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Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3382805 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #69839 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/69839) diff --git a/old/69839-0.txt b/old/69839-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index b503c5b..0000000 --- a/old/69839-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,12100 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Piccinino, Volume 01 (of 2), by -George Sand - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The Piccinino, Volume 01 (of 2) - The masterpieces of George Sand, volume 7 - -Author: George Sand - -Translator: G. Burnham Yves - -Illustrator: Oreste Cortazzo - -Release Date: January 19, 2023 [eBook #69839] -[Most recently updated: January 31, 2023] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Dagny and Laura Natal Rodrigues (Images generously made - available by Hathi Trust Digital Library.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PICCININO, VOLUME 01 (OF -2) *** - - - THE MASTERPIECES OF - - GEORGE SAND - - - - - AMANDINE LUCILLE AURORE DUPIN, - BARONESS DUDEVANT - - - - - VOLUME VII - - - - - THE PICCININO - - THE LAST OF THE ALDINIS - - - - - The Masterpieces of George Sand - Amandine Lucille Aurore Dupin, Baroness - Dudevant, _NOW FOR THE FIRST - TIME COMPLETELY TRANSLATED - INTO ENGLISH THE PICCININO, AND THE LAST OF THE - ALDINIS BY G. BURNHAM IVES_ - - _WITH SIX PHOTOGRAVURES AFTER PAINTINGS BY - ORESTE CORTAZZO._ - - - - -_VOLUME I_ - - - - -_PRINTED ONLY FOR SUBSCRIBERS BY -GEORGE BARRIE & SON -PHILADELPHIA_ - - - - -[Illustration: _EXAMINING THE ABBÉ'S PAPERS._ - -_He opened and ran through several other papers -which mentioned none but unknown names, and -which Mila burned without looking at them._] - - - - -CONTENTS -INTRODUCTION -CHAPTER -I. THE TRAVELLER -II. THE TRAVELLER'S STORY -III. MONSIGNORE -IV. MYSTERIES -V. THE CASINO -VI. THE STAIRCASE -VII. A GLANCE -VIII. THE INTRUDER -IX. MILA -X. PROBLEM -XI. THE GROTTO OF THE NAIAD -XII. MAGNANI -XIII. AGATHA -XIV. BARBAGALLO -XV. ROMANTIC LOVE -XVI. CONCLUSION OF MAGNANI'S STORY -XVII. THE CYCLAMEN -XVIII. THE MONKS -XIX. YOUTHFUL LOVES -XX. BEL PASSO AND MAL PASSO -XXI. FRA ANGELO -XXII. THE FIRST STEP ON THE MOUNTAIN -XXIII. THE DESTATORE -XXIV. IL PICCININO -XXV. THE DESTATORE'S CROSS -XXVI. AGATHA -XXVII. DIPLOMACY -XXVIII. JEALOUSY -XXIX. APPARITIONS -XXX. THE FALSE MONK -XXXI. WITCHCRAFT -XXXII. THE ESCALADE -XXXIII. THE RING -XXXIV. AT THE FOUNTAIN -XXXV. THE COAT OF ARMS - - - - -LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS - -THE PICCININO - -VOLUME I - -EXAMINING THE ABBÉ'S PAPERS - -THE CARDINAL'S ESCORT - -THE BALL AT THE PALMAROSA PALACE - -AFTER THE FÊTE - -THE CONFERENCE WITH THE PICCININO - -MILA SURPRISED AT THE FOUNTAIN - - - - -INTRODUCTION - - -_The Piccinino_ is an imaginary tale, which does not attempt either to -depict any precise period of history or to describe accurately any -country. It is a study in color, dreamed rather than felt, wherein -correct strokes are few and, as it were, accidental. The scene of this -romance might have been placed anywhere else under the skies of Southern -Europe, and my sole reason for selecting Sicily was that I happened to -have a collection of fine engravings before my eyes at that moment. - -I had always been conscious of a longing to draw my little brigand -chief, as others have done. The brigand chief who formed the principal -motive of so many novels and melodramas under the Empire, under the -Restoration, and even in romantic literature, always proved generally -entertaining, and the principal interest always attached to that -awe-inspiring and mysterious personage. It was most ingenuous on the -part of the public, but so it was. Whether the type was -terror-inspiring, as in the case of Byron's brigands, or, like those of -Cooper, deserving of the Monthyon prize for virtue, it was enough that -those heroes of despair should have legitimately earned the halter or -the galleys, for every tender-hearted and virtuous reader to love them -devotedly from the first page, and to offer up prayers for the success -of their undertakings. Why, then, should I, on the pretext of being a -reasonable person, have deprived myself of the pleasure of creating one -of them according to my fancy? - -Being fully persuaded that the brigand chief had become a part of the -public domain, and belonged to every novelist, as do all other classical -types, I determined to try at least to make that personage, occupying as -he does so abnormal a position, possible and true to life in his -character. Such a mystery envelops Byron's pirates that one would not -dare to question them, and that one fears or pities them without knowing -them. Indeed we may as well say at once that it is by virtue of that -unexplained mystery that they appeal to us; but I am not Byron, and my -novels are not poems. I desired, for my own part, to draw a perfectly -intelligible character, encompassed by romantic circumstances, who is -somewhat exceptional in himself, but with whom my indulgent reader can -become acquainted, little by little, as with any ordinary mortal. - - GEORGE SAND - -Nohant, April 22, 1853. - - - - -THE PICCININO - - - - -TO MY FRIEND - -_EMMANUEL ARAGO_ - -IN MEMORY OF A PLEASANT EVENING - - - - -I - -THE TRAVELLER - - -The region called _piedimonta_, which surrounds the base of Ætna, and -of which Catania forms the portion nearest the level of the sea, is, -according to the declared opinions of all travellers, the loveliest -country in the whole world. It is that fact which impels me to place -there the scene of a story which was recently told me, but of which I -was forbidden to reveal the real _locus_ or the real characters. -Therefore, dear reader, pray take the trouble to transport yourself in -imagination to the district called Valdemona, or _Valley of the Demons_. -It is a beautiful spot, which, however, I do not propose to describe in -great detail, for a sufficiently good reason: namely, that I am not -familiar with it, and one cannot depict very faithfully what one knows -only by hearsay. But there are so many excellent books of travel that -you can consult! unless, indeed, you prefer to go thither in person, -which I would that I, too, might do, to-morrow, provided that it was not -with you, reader; for, in presence of the marvellous beauties of that -spot, you would rebuke me for having described it so ill, and there is -nothing more disagreeable than a travelling companion who is constantly -preaching at you. - -In default of something better, my fancy is impelled to lead you rather -far away, beyond the mountains, and to leave in peace for a time the -quiet country districts wherein I usually like to frame my tales. The -moving cause of this fancy is exceedingly puerile, but I propose to tell -it to you. - -I do not know whether you remember, assuming that you do me the honor to -read me, that I placed before you last year a novel entitled _The Sin of -Monsieur Antoine_, the scene of which was laid on the banks of the -Creuse, and especially among the ruins of the ancient château of -Châteaubrun. Now that château exists, and I drive thither at least -once in every year, although it is about ten leagues from my own home. -This year I was very coldly received by the old peasant woman who has -charge of the ruins. - -"Look you!" she cried, in her half-Berrichon, half-Marchois patois, "I -don't think much of you; my name is not _Janille_, but _Jennie_. I -haven't got any daughter, and I don't lead my master round by the nose. -My master don't wear a blouse; you lied about him. I never saw him in a -blouse, etc., etc. I don't know how to read, but I do know that you've -been writing lies about my master and me. I have no liking for you now." - -This harangue apprized me that there still lives, not far from the ruins -of Châteaubrun, an old man named Châteaubrun, who never wears a -blouse. That is all that I know about him. - -But it proved to me that I must needs be most circumspect when writing -of La Marche and Berry. That was at least the tenth time that something -of that sort had happened to me, and every time persons bearing the name -of some of my characters, or living in the localities I have described, -have flown into a passion with me and accused me of slandering them, not -deigning to believe that I took their names by chance, and that I did -not know of their existence. - -To give them time to become calm again, before I return to that region, -I propose to make an excursion to Sicily. But how shall I avoid making -use of a name that belongs to some inhabitant or some portion of that -celebrated island? A Sicilian hero cannot be called Durand or Wolf, nor -do I find on the map of the country any name which rhymes with Pontoise -or Baden-Baden. I really must baptize my actors and my stage with names -that have some rhyme in _a_, _o_ or _i_. I will take those which are -easiest to pronounce, so far as is possible, without much heed to -geographical accuracy, declaring beforehand that I do not know a cat in -Sicily, even by reputation; so that I cannot possibly intend to point at -any particular person. - -Having made this statement, I am free to choose, and the choice of names -is the most embarrassing question that confronts a novelist who wishes -to become sincerely attached to the characters he creates. In the first -place, I need a princess who has a resounding name, one of those which -give you an exalted idea of the person who bears it; and there are such -lovely names in that country! Acalia, Madonia, Valcorrente, Valverde, -Primosole, Tremisteri, etc.--they all ring true on the ear, like perfect -chords. But if perchance there has ever happened in any of the patrician -families which bear the names of those seignorial localities, an -adventure like that which I am about to describe--a delicate adventure, -I confess--why, I am sure to be accused once more of evil-speaking or -calumny. Luckily, Catania is very far away; my novels do not, in all -probability, pass the lighthouse of Messina, and I trust that the new -pope will do in charity what his predecessor did without knowing why: -that is to say, keep me in the Index; then I shall be entirely at -liberty to speak of Italy, certain that Italy, and with still stronger -reason Sicily, will never suspect it. - -Consequently my princess shall be called the Princess of Palmarosa. I -defy you to find sweeter sounds or a more flowery meaning in any name in -any novel. And now for her Christian name, we must think of that. We -will call her Agatha, because St. Agatha is the revered patron saint of -Catania. But I will urge the reader to pronounce the name _Agata_, even -if I should happen inadvertently to write it in French, otherwise he -will miss the local coloring. - -My hero's name shall be Michelangelo Lavoratori, but we must never -confound him with the illustrious Michelangelo Buonarotti, who died at -least two hundred years before my man's birth. - -As for the period in which the events are supposed to take -place--another unpleasant incident of the beginning of a novel--you are -entirely at liberty to select it yourself, dear reader. But inasmuch as -our characters will be actuated by ideas now in circulation in the -world, and as it would be impossible for me to speak to you as I should -like to do of the men of past ages, I fancy that the story of the -Princess Agatha of Palmarosa and Michelangelo Lavoratori belongs -somewhere between 1810 and 1840. Fix the precise year, day, and hour at -which we begin our narrative to suit yourself; it is a matter of -indifference to me, for my novel is neither historical nor descriptive, -nor does it pride itself at all upon being exact in either respect. - -On the day in question--it was in autumn and broad daylight, if you -please--Michelangelo Lavoratori was descending diagonally across the -gorges and ravines which alternate with each other from the slopes of -Ætna to the fertile plain of Catania. He was coming from Rome; he had -crossed the Strait of Messina, he had followed the highroad as far as -Taormina. There, intoxicated by the grandeur of the spectacle which his -eyes beheld in all directions, and uncertain whether to choose the -seashore or the mountains, he had gone forward to some extent at random, -torn between his impatience to embrace his father and sister, whom he -had not seen for a year, and the temptation to go a little nearer the -gigantic volcano, compared to which it seemed to him, as to Spallanzani, -that Vesuvius is simply a parlor volcano. - -As he was alone and on foot, he had lost his way more than once in that -wild region, intersected by vast streams of lava which form on all sides -steep mountains and valleys filled with luxuriant vegetation. One -travels far and makes very little progress when he must constantly -ascend and descend over a distance quadrupled in length by natural -obstacles. Michel had taken two days to travel the ten leagues, more or -less, which lie between Taormina and Catania as the crow flies; but at -last he was drawing near his journey's end, indeed, he had arrived; for, -after crossing the Cantaro and passing through Mascarello, Piano-Grande, -Valverde, and Mascalucia, he had at last left Santa-Agata on his right -and Ficarazzi on his left. Therefore he was only about a mile from the -suburbs of the city; if he had walked a quarter of an hour more, he -would have reached the end of the adventures of a pedestrian journey, -during which, despite the fascination and the enthusiastic admiration -which such natural scenery inspires in a young artist, he had suffered -considerably from heat in the ravines, from cold on the mountain-tops, -from hunger, and from fatigue. - -But, as he skirted the wall of a vast park, on the slope of the last -hill which he still had to cross, and as, with his eyes fixed on the -city and the harbor, he quickened his pace to make up for lost time, he -stumbled over the stump of an olive-tree. The pain caused by the blow -was most acute; for, after two days' travelling over sharp slag, and -pozzuolana as hot as red-hot ashes, his shoes were sadly worn and his -feet cruelly bruised and sore. - -Being compelled to stop, he found himself in front of a niche in the -wall, containing a madonna. This little chapel, sheltered by a stone -projection and provided with a bench, offered a hospitable resting-place -to wayfarers, and to beggars, monks, and others a convenient station at -the very door of the _villa_, of which our traveller could descry the -handsome buildings through the orange-trees planted in a triple row -along an avenue of considerable length. - -Michel, more annoyed than cast down by this sudden hurt, dropped his -travelling satchel, seated himself on the bench, and rubbed his injured -foot, but soon forgot it to lose himself in meditation. - -In order that the reader may understand the reflections which his -surroundings suggested to the young man, it is essential that I should -introduce him somewhat more fully. Michel was eighteen years of age and -was a student of painting at Rome. His father, Pier-Angelo Lavoratori, -was a mere dauber, a decorator, but very skilful in his line. And, as is -well known, in Italy the artisans whose business it is to cover walls -and ceilings with frescoes are almost all genuine artists. Whether from -tradition, or from natural good taste, they produce some very attractive -decorations; and in the most modest abodes, even in wretched taverns, -the eye is charmed by wreaths and rosework done in a fascinating style, -or it may be by borders simply, the coloring of which is happily -contrasted with the dull tints of the panels and wainscoting. These -frescoes are sometimes executed as perfectly as our wall-papers, and -they are much superior to them, in this respect, that one detects in -them the greater ease of manner of work done by hand. Nothing can be -more dismal than the stiff and regular decorations produced by -machinery. The beauty of Chinese vases, and, indeed, of Chinese work in -general, is attributable to that capricious air of spontaneity which the -human hand alone can impart to its work. Grace, freedom, boldness, the -unexpected, and even ingenuous awkwardness are, in decoration, elements -of charm which we are losing day by day, as we depend more and more upon -the resources of machinery and looms. - -Pier-Angelo was one of the most rapid and ingenious of these -decorators--_adornatori_. He was a native of Catania, and had reared his -family there until the period of Michel's birth, when he abruptly left -his province and settled in Rome. The reason he assigned for this -voluntary exile was that his family was increasing in size, that there -was too much competition in Catania, and that consequently his work no -longer sufficed for his needs; wherefore he proposed to seek his fortune -elsewhere. But people said under their breath that he had fled from the -resentment of certain all-powerful patricians who were devoted to the -court of Naples. - -Everyone knows the bitter hatred of that conquered and down-trodden -people for the government on the other side of the strait. The Sicilian, -proud and revengeful, rumbles incessantly like his volcano, and -sometimes erupts. It was whispered that Pier-Angelo had been involved in -an attempt at a popular uprising, and that he had been obliged to fly, -carrying with him his brushes and his household goods. To be sure, his -social and kindly temperament seemed to contradict such a supposition; -but the lively imaginations of the good people of the suburb of Catania -must needs devise an extraordinary motive for the disappearance of one -so loved and regretted by all his confrères. - -At Rome he was hardly more fortunate, for he had the sorrow of losing -all his children there except Michel; and ere long his wife died in -giving birth to a daughter, whose young brother was her godfather, and -who received the name of Mila, a contraction of Michelangela. - -Having lost these two children, Pier-Angelo, albeit more melancholy, was -much more at ease financially, and by dint of earnest work, he succeeded -in giving his son an education far superior to that which he had himself -received. He displayed a predilection for that boy which almost amounted -to weakness, and Michel, although poor and obscure, was a veritable -spoiled child. - -Now, Pier-Angelo had spurred on his other sons to work, and had imparted -to them early in life the ardor which was consuming him. But, whether -because they had succumbed to excessive toil for which they had not -received from Heaven the same aptitude and strength as their father, or -because Pier-Angelo, finding his family reduced to three persons, no -longer deemed it necessary to have assistance, it is certain that he -seemed more anxious to handle tenderly the health of his last remaining -son, than to provide him betimes with a means of livelihood. - -Nevertheless, the child loved painting, and in play produced fruit, -flowers, and birds, in which the coloring was exquisite. One day he -asked his father why he never introduced figures in his frescoes. - -"What do you say? figures?" replied the good man, who had an abundance -of common sense: "one must paint very beautiful ones, or else let them -alone. Figure painting is beyond such talent as I have been able to -acquire, and whereas people think well of my garlands and arabesques, I -should be very sure of making connoisseurs laugh if I should attempt to -represent limping cupids or hump-backed nymphs dancing on my ceilings." - -"Suppose I should try!" said the child, whom nothing daunted. - -"Try on paper, and however successful you may be for your years, you -will soon see that you must learn before you know." - -Michel tried. Pier-Angelo showed his son's sketches to some -connoisseurs, and to some painters too, who saw that the child had much -talent, and that it would be well for him not to be confined too closely -to the drudgery of mixing colors. Thereupon, Pier-Angelo determined to -make a painter of him, sent him to one of the best studios in Rome, and -relieved him entirely from preparing colors and daubing walls. - -"One of two things will happen," he said to himself with good reason; -"either the child will become a master, or, if he has only trifling -talent, he will come back to the trade of decorating with knowledge that -I do not possess, and he will be a workman of the first order in his -line. In either case he will have a freer and more comfortable life than -mine." - -Not that Pier-Angelo was dissatisfied with his lot. He was blest with -that improvidence, that recklessness, one might say, which are -characteristic of the most laborious and most robust men. He always -relied upon destiny, perhaps because he relied most of all upon his -strong arms and his courage. But as he was a very shrewd and intelligent -observer, he had already detected in Michel the gleam of a spark of -ambition which his other children had never had. He drew the conclusion -that the measure of happiness with which he had been content would not -suffice for that more delicately balanced organism. Tolerant to excess, -and thoroughly convinced that every man has aptitudes which no other man -can estimate accurately, he respected Michel's impulses and inclinations -as manifestations of the will of Heaven, and therein was no less -imprudent than generous. - -For that blind complaisance was certain to lead, and did in fact lead to -this result--that Michelangelo became accustomed never to suffer, never -to be thwarted, and to look upon his own personality as more important -and more interesting than that of other people. He often mistook his -caprices for desires, and his desires for rights. Moreover, he was -attacked early in life by the disease peculiar to fortunate mortals, -that is to say, the fear that they may not always be so fortunate; and -in the midst of his progress he was often paralyzed by the fear of -failing. A vague disquietude seized upon him, and as he was naturally -energetic and bold, it sometimes made him sullen and irritable. - -But we shall obtain a better conception of his character by following -him in the reflections he made at the gates of Catania, in the little -chapel in which he had taken his seat. - - - - -II - -THE TRAVELLER'S STORY - - -I have forgotten to tell you, and it is important that you should know, -why Michel had been separated from his father and sister for a year -past. - -Although he earned his living readily at Rome, and despite his happy -temperament, Pier-Angelo had never been able to accustom himself to -living abroad, far from his cherished fatherland. Like the genuine -islander he was, he regarded Sicily as a land favored by Heaven in every -respect, and the mainland as a place of exile. When the Catanians speak -of the terrible volcano which overwhelms and ruins them so often, they -carry love of country so far as to say: _Our Ætna_!--"Ah!" said -Pier-Angelo, on the day that he passed near the lava fields of Vesuvius, -"if you had seen our famous Catanian wave! that was grand and wonderful! -You would never dare to mention yours again!" He referred to the -terrible eruption of 1669, which sent a river of fire to the very centre -of the city, and destroyed half of the population and buildings. The -destruction of Pompeii and Herculaneum seemed to him a jest.--"Psha!" he -would say proudly, "I have seen bigger earthquakes! You should come to -our home if you want to know what an earthquake is!" - -In fact, he sighed incessantly for the moment when he could see again -his dear furnace and its beloved gate of hell. - -When Michel and Mila, who were accustomed to his cheerful humor, saw -that he was pensive and downcast, they were grieved and disturbed, as -always happens with respect to persons with whom mental depression is a -rare phenomenon. Thereupon he confessed to his children that he was -thinking of his native land. "If I were not in excellent health," he -said, "and if I did not constantly argue with myself, homesickness would -have killed me long ago." - -But when his children spoke to him of returning to Sicily, he would wave -his hands in a significant way, as if to say: "I cannot cross the strait -again; I should escape Charybdis only to fall into Scylla." - -Once or twice he inadvertently said to them: "Prince Dionigi died a long -while ago, but his brother Hieronymo is still living." And when his -children questioned him as to what reason he had to fear Prince -Hieronymo, he shook his finger and said: "Hush! I should not even have -mentioned those princes before you." - -But it happened one day that Pier-Angelo, being at work in a certain -palace in Rome, picked up a newspaper which he found on the floor, and -showing it to Michel, who had looked in upon him on his way from the -Museum of Painting, he exclaimed: "What a misfortune it is for me not to -know how to read! I will bet that there is news from my dear Sicily in -this paper. Look, look, Michel, what is this word here? I would swear -that it was Catania. Yes, yes, I can read that name! Come, look and tell -me what is going on at Catania in these days." Michel glanced at the -paper, and saw that it was proposed to light the principal streets of -Catania with hydrogen gas. - -"Great Heaven!" ejaculated Pier-Angelo; "think of seeing Ætna by -gaslight! How beautiful that will be!" - -And he threw his cap up to the ceiling in his joy. - -"There is more news," said the young man, looking over the paper. "The -Prince-Cardinal Hieronymo of Palmarosa has been obliged to suspend the -exercise of the important functions which the Neapolitan government has -entrusted to him. His eminence has been stricken by paralysis, and his -life is deemed to be in danger. Pending a definite decision from the -medical profession concerning the mental and physical condition of that -noble personage, the government has entrusted his functions temporarily -to his excellency, the Marquis of----" - -"What do I care to whom?" cried Pier-Angelo, snatching the paper from -his son's hands with extraordinary excitement, "Prince Hieronymo is off -to join his brother Dionigi in the tomb, and we are saved!"--Then, after -trying to spell out Prince Hieronymo's name for himself, as if he feared -that his son might have made a mistake, he returned the journal to him -and bade him read the paragraph again, very carefully and very slowly. - -When this was done, Pier-Angelo crossed himself devoutly. - -"O Providence!" he cried, "Thou hast permitted old Pier-Angelo to -witness the extinction of his persecutors, and to return to his native -city! Embrace me, Michel! this event is of no less importance to you -than to me. Whatever happens, remember that Pier-Angelo Lavoratori has -been a good father to you!" - -"What do you mean, father? Are you still in any danger? If you must -return to Sicily, I will go with you." - -"We will talk of that later, Michel. Meanwhile, silence!--Forget -everything, even the words that have escaped me." - -Two days later, Pier-Angelo folded his tents and started for Catania -with his daughter. He would not consent to take Michel, despite the -latter's earnest entreaties. - -"No," he said, "I am not certain that I shall be able to settle at -Catania, for I had the papers read to me again this morning, and they -don't say that Cardinal Hieronymo is dead. They don't mention him at -all. A personage so favored by the government, and so rich, could not -recover or die without a great sensation. So I conclude that he is still -alive, but that he is a little better. His temporary substitute is a -most excellent nobleman, a true patriot, and a friend of the people. I -have nothing to fear from the police so long as we have him to deal -with. But if by a miracle this Prince Hieronymo should come back to life -and health, I should have to return to Rome at once; and in that case -what good would it have done to make you take this journey, which would -interrupt your studies?" - -"But," said Michel, "why not wait until this prince's fate is decided, -before you start yourself? I have no idea what you have to fear from him -and from your presence in Catania, father; for you have never chosen to -explain yourself clearly in that respect; but it alarms me to have you -start, all alone but for this child, for a land where you are not -certain of being well received. I know that the police officials of -absolute governments are suspicious and troublesome; and if you had -nothing worse to fear than a temporary imprisonment, even then what -would become of our little Mila, all alone in a city where you no longer -have any acquaintances? Let me go with you, in heaven's name! I will be -Mila's protector and defender, and when I see that you are comfortably -settled and in no danger, then I will return to Rome and resume my -studies, if you care to remain in Sicily." - -"Yes, Michel, I know, I understand," replied Pier-Angelo. "You have no -wish to remain in Sicily, and your youthful ambition would be -ill-content with a long stay in an island which you believe to be -destitute of all resources and monuments of art. You are mistaken; we -have such noble monuments! Palermo fairly swarms with them. Ætna is the -grandest spectacle that nature can offer to a painter, and we have -painters, too. Morales filled our fatherland with masterpieces worthy to -be compared with those of Rome and Florence!" - -"Excuse me, father," said Michel, smiling, "Morales is not to be -compared with Raphael, Michelangelo, or any of the masters of the -Florentine school." - -"What do you know about it? That is just like children. You have never -seen his great works, his best pieces; you will see them in Sicily. And -such a climate! such skies! such fruit! A veritable land of promise!" - -"Very well, father, permit me to go there with you," said Michel. "That -is precisely what I ask." - -"No, no!" cried Pier-Angelo, earnestly. "I forgot myself in sounding the -praises of Catania, and I do not want you to go there with me now. I -know that your loving heart and your anxiety for us urge you to it; but -I know also that your real inclination does not lie that way. I want the -desire to come to you naturally, when the hour of your destiny has -struck, and when you will kiss the soil of your fatherland with love, -instead of treading it, as you would do to-day, with disdain." - -"These reasons are of little weight, father, in view of the anxiety I -shall feel during your absence. I prefer to be bored and waste my time -in Sicily, rather than to let you go there without me and pass my time -here dreaming of dangers and disasters." - -"Thanks my child, and farewell!" said the old man, embracing him -affectionately. "If I must tell you explicitly, I cannot take you. Here -is half of all the money I possess; be careful of it until I am able to -send you more. You can depend upon it that I shall not waste my time at -Catania, and that I will work energetically to procure the means for you -to continue your painting. I shall need time for the journey and to get -settled; after which I shall find plenty of work, for I had many friends -and patrons in my country, and I know that I shall find some of them -there still. Do not dream of dangers and disasters. I will be prudent; -and although duplicity and fear are not my ordinary failings, I have too -much Sicilian blood in my veins not to be able to display the cunning of -an old fox, at need. I know Ætna as well as I know my own pocket, and -its ravines are deep enough to keep a poor fellow like me hidden for a -long while. Besides, I have maintained friendly relations with my -kinsfolk, as you know. I have a brother a Capuchin, who is a _great -man_. Mila will find shelter and protection with them, if need be. I -will write to you--that is to say your sister will write for me--as -often as possible, and you shall not be left long in uncertainty as to -our fate. Do not mention the names of the Princes of Palmarosa, unless -we mention them to you first." - -"And meanwhile," said Michel, "shall I not know what I have to fear or -to hope from these princes?" - -"You? nothing, upon my word," replied Pier-Angelo; "but you do not know -Sicily; you would not have the prudence that is absolutely necessary in -countries that are subjected to foreigners. You have the ideas of a -young man, all the ardent ideas which circulate here in Rome, under the -cloak of lax administration, but which, in Sicily, are hidden and held -in reserve under the ashes of the volcanoes. You would compromise me, -and they would manufacture a conspiracy against the court of Naples out -of a single phrase thoughtlessly uttered by you in your fervent -liberalism. Farewell once more; do not detain me. I must see my country -once more! You have no idea what it means to me to have been born at -Catania, and to have been away eighteen years; or, rather, you do not -understand it, for it is true that you were born at Catania yourself, -and that the story of my exile is the story of yours! But you were -brought up at Rome, and you look upon Rome as your country, alas!" - -A month later Michel received, by the hand of a mechanic who arrived in -Rome from Sicily, a letter from Mila, which informed him that their -journey was most successful; that they had been welcomed with open arms -by their relations and former friends; that Pier-Angelo had found work -and valuable patronage; but that the cardinal was still living, although -not greatly to be feared, because he had withdrawn from the world and -from public affairs. However, Pier-Angelo did not wish Michel to join -him, for no one knew _what might happen_. - -Until then Michel had been depressed and anxious, for he loved his -father and sister dearly; but, as soon as his mind was at rest with -respect to them, he involuntarily rejoiced that he was at Rome and not -at Catania. His life there had been very pleasant since his father had -permitted him to devote himself to painting. Favored by his masters, who -were attracted to him not only because of his happy aptitude, but also -because of a certain elevation of mind and of language above his years -and his condition, received in the society of young men much richer and -more aristocratic than he--and we must admit that he was much more -accessible to their advances than to those of the sons of artisans, his -equals--he devoted his leisure to the cultivation of his brain and the -enlargement of his circle of ideas. He read rapidly and greedily, he -frequented the theatres, he conversed with artists; in a word, he -prepared himself wonderfully well for a free and noble existence, to -which, however, he was by no means certain that he could properly -aspire. - -For the resources of the poor painter in distemper, who sent half of his -wages to him, were not inexhaustible. Illness might put an end to them -at any time, and painting is so serious and profound an art that one -must study many years before one can hope to make profitable use of it. - -This thought terrified Michel, and sometimes cast him into the deepest -dejection. "O father!" he was saying to himself, when we met him at the -gate of a palace near his native town: "Did you not, through excessive -affection for me, do yourself as well as me a great injury, by urging me -on in the pathway of ambition? I do not know if I shall succeed, yet I -feel that it will be very hard for me to resume the life which you lead, -and for which fortune destined me. I am not so strong as you; I am a -degenerate in the matter of physical strength, which is the stamp of -nobility of our race. I cannot walk, I am fatigued beyond measure by -what would be simply healthy exercise for you, at sixty years of age. -And here am I used up, wounded in the foot, by my own fault, by reason -of my absent-mindedness or my awkwardness. And yet I was born among -these mountains, and I see children running over these sharp lava beds -as I would walk on a carpet. Yes, my father was right, this is a -beautiful fatherland; one may well be proud of having issued like the -lava, from the sides of yonder terrible mountain! But one should be -wholly, not half worthy of such a glorious origin. He should be a great -man and fill the world with peals of thunder and lightning flashes; or -else he should be a stout-hearted peasant or a determined brigand, and -live in the desert, without other resource than a carbine and a pitiless -heart. That too is a poetic destiny. But it is too late for me; I have -learned too many things, I know the laws, society and mankind too well. -That which is heroism in these artless and uncivilized mountaineers -would be cowardice and crime in me. My conscience would reproach me for -having succeeded in attaining grandeur by genius and the gifts of -civilization, and for having relapsed, from impotence, to a condition of -brigandage. So I should have to live an obscure, insignificant life!" - -Let us leave Michel for a little while to nurse and rub his aching foot, -and inform the reader why, despite his love for Rome and the pleasant -days he passed there, he found himself now at the gates of Catania. - -From month to month his sister had written to him, at her father's -dictation: "You cannot come yet, and we cannot make any decision -concerning our own future. The sick man is as well as a man can be who -has lost the use of his arms and his legs. But his head still lives and -retains a remnant of power. Here is some money; be careful of it, my -child; for, although I have all the work I want, wages are lower here -than at Rome." - -Michel tried to be careful of the money, which represented to him the -sweat of his father's brow. He quivered with shame and dismay when his -young sister, who worked at spinning silk--a very common industry in -that part of Sicily,--secretly added a gold piece to her father's -remittance. Evidently the poor child subjected herself to great -privations to obtain for her brother the wherewithal to amuse himself -for an hour. Michel vowed that he would not touch those gold pieces, but -would save them and carry back to Mila all her little savings. - -But Michel loved pleasure; he craved a certain amount of luxury, and he -did not know how to save. He had princely tastes, that is to say, he -loved to give, and rewarded handsomely any _facchino_ who brought him a -picture or a letter. And then too, painting materials are very -expensive. Again, when Michel was in the company of wealthy young men, -he would have blushed not to pay his scot like the rest. So that he ran -in debt to a small amount, albeit very large for the budget of a poor -decorator. There came a time when, the debt imitating the snow-ball, it -became necessary for him either to fly in disgrace or to resign himself -to take up some more humble occupation than historical painting. -Trembling with rage and grief, Michel sacrificed the gold pieces which -he had determined to carry back to Mila some day. But, finding that he -was still far from solvent, he confessed everything in a letter to his -father, blaming himself with something very like despair. A week later a -banker forwarded to the young man the sum necessary to pay his debt, and -to live some time longer on the same footing. Then came a letter from -Mila, who said, still at Pier-Angelo's dictation: "A kind friend lent me -the money I have sent to you; but I shall have to work six months to -repay the loan. Try, my son, not to run in debt again until then, for if -you do we shall have arrears of indebtedness which we can never -discharge." - -Although Michel had never been reprimanded by his father, he expected -something in the nature of a rebuke this time. When he realized the -excellent man's inexhaustible kindness and philosophic courage, he was -heartbroken, and though unable to blame himself for errors into which -his position had irresistibly led him, he did blame himself, as for a -crime, for having accepted that too brilliant position. He formed a -mighty resolution, and was assisted in carrying it out by the idea that -he was consummating a great sacrifice, and that if he had not the making -of a great painter in him, he had at all events the heroism of a great -character. Thus vanity had much to say in this effort of his will, but -it was an ingenuous and noble vanity. He paid his debts and bade his -friends farewell, announcing his purpose to abandon painting and to work -with his father at his trade. - -Then, without informing his father of his coming, he packed in a bag a -few choice clothes, a sketch-book, and a number of boxes of -water-colors, not realizing that those symbols of luxury and art showed -that he carried the thought of luxury and art with him; and he started -for Catania, where we have seen him on the point of arriving. - - - - -III - -MONSIGNORE - - -Despite this heroic renunciation of all the dreams of his youth, poor -Michel experienced at that moment a sort of grief-stricken dismay. The -journey had diverted his thoughts from the consequences of his -sacrifice. The sight of Ætna had exalted his imagination. The joy he -felt at the thought of seeing his excellent father and his dear little -sister had sustained his courage. But this unlucky accident of a -trifling wound in the foot, and the necessity of halting for an instant, -gave him leisure for reflection for the first time since he had left -Rome. - -Moreover, that was an exceedingly solemn moment to his youthful mind. He -saw before him the domes of his native city, one of the loveliest cities -in the world, even to him who comes from Rome, and the one of all others -whose location is most imposing to the eye. - -This city, so many times devastated by the volcano, is not very ancient, -and the style of the seventeenth century, which prevails in its -buildings, has not the grandeur or the pure taste of earlier periods. -Nevertheless, Catania, built upon an extensive plan and of antique -spaciousness, is of a Greek type, taken as a whole. The sombre color of -the lava from which it has risen again and again after being swallowed -up by it, as if it had found the seeds of renewed life in its own ashes, -after the manner of the phœnix, the open plain which surrounds it, and -the cruel reefs of lava which have taken root in its harbor, as if to -darken with their stern shadow even the shimmer of the waves--everything -about the city is majestic and melancholy. - -But it was not the aspect of the place that engrossed the thoughts of -our young traveller. His own plight made it seem to him more gloomy and -terror-inspiring than it had been made by the passage of the flames that -belched forth from the cave of the Cyclops. He saw before him a place of -trials and of expiation, in face of which a cold perspiration burst from -every pore. It was there that he was about to bid farewell to the world -of art, to the society of enlightened men, to unchecked reveries, and to -the studious leisure of the artist summoned to an exalted destiny. It -was there that he must resume, after ten years of a highly-favored -existence, the artisan's apron, the hateful sizing-pot, the conventional -festoon, the decoration of reception rooms and corridors. And, worse -than all the rest, it was there that he would have to work twelve hours -a day and go to bed exhausted, lacking time and strength to read or muse -in a picture gallery; there that he must resign himself to do without -other society than that of the Sicilian common people, so poor and so -unclean that the poetic charm of his features and his intellect could -scarcely penetrate the rags and degradation of poverty. In a word, the -gate of Catania was, to that poor exile, the gate of the accursed city -described by Dante. - -At the thought, a torrent of tears, long held in check or turned aside, -rushed from his eyes, and whoever had seen him thus, young, comely, -pale, seated outside the gate of a palace, with his hand lying -carelessly upon his injured foot, would inevitably have thought of the -gladiator of old, wounded in combat, but weeping for his defeat rather -than for the pain. - - -[Illustration: _THE CARDINAL'S ESCORT._ - -_The bells of a number of mules ascending the -hill, and the appearance of a strange caravan coming -directly toward him, forcibly changed the current of -Michelangelo Lavoratori's reflections._] - - -The bells of a number of mules ascending the hill, and the appearance of -a strange caravan coming directly toward him, forcibly changed the -current of Michelangelo Lavoratori's reflections. The mules were superb -creatures, richly caparisoned and decorated with plumes. On their long -purple saddle-cloths gleamed the insignia of the cardinalate, the triple -cross of gold, surmounted by the little hat and tassels. They were laden -with baggage and led by servants dressed in black, with gloomy, -suspicious faces; then came abbés and other ecclesiastics, with black -short-clothes, red stockings and large silver buckles on their shoes; -some on horseback, others in litters. A very stout individual, in a -black coat, with his hair in a bag, a diamond on his finger, and a sword -at his side, rode gravely upon a magnificent ass. From his air of -importance, somewhat more candid than the crafty expressions of the -churchmen who surrounded him, he could readily be identified as his -eminence's physician. He escorted his eminence himself, who was carried -in a chair, or rather in a great box, by two powerful men, beside whom -walked four relay bearers. The whole procession consisted of about forty -persons, and the uselessness of each one of them could be measured by -the rapt meditation and humility depicted on his face. - -Michel, deeply interested in the passage of this procession which -surpassed all that Rome had to offer in that direction, that was most -classic and superannuated, rose and stood near the gateway, in order to -obtain a nearer view of the principal personage's face. He was the -better able to gratify his curiosity, as the bearers halted in front of -the enormous gilded gate, while a sort of abbé, with a repulsive -countenance, dismounted and opened the gate himself with an air of -authority and a peculiar smile. - -The cardinal was a man far advanced in years, who had once been -corpulent and florid, but was now pale and emaciated, as the result of -gradual and cruel decay. The skin upon his face, once tightly stretched, -now relaxed, hung in innumerable folds, and imparted to the face a -strong resemblance to a field furrowed by the passage of a torrent. -Despite these ghastly evidences of decomposition, there was a trace of -imperious beauty upon those lifeless features, which could not or would -not make the faintest movement, but amid which two great black eyes -still glowed, the last sanctuary of a stubborn vitality. - -The contrast between the stern, piercing glance and the corpse-like face -impressed Michel so strongly that he could not avoid a feeling of -respect, and he instinctively bared his head before that feeble remnant -of a powerful will. Everything that indicated a forceful, imperious -nature produced its effect upon that young man's imagination, because he -was himself ambitious of power and authority, and, except for the gleam -of those tyrannical eyes, it is doubtful if it would have occurred to -him to remove his straw hat. - -But, as his modest garb and his dusty shoes indicated a man of the -people rather than a great painter in embryo, the cardinal's people and -the cardinal himself naturally expected to see him kneel, which he did -not do, and his neglect scandalized them terribly. - -The cardinal was the first to notice it, and as his bearers were about -to pass through the gate, he made a sign with his eyebrows which was -instantly read by his physician, who rode always beside him, and was -ordered to keep his eyes always fixed upon those of his eminence. - -The doctor had just enough wit to understand from the cardinal's -expression that he wished to manifest some desire or other; so he -ordered a halt, and advised Abbé Ninfo, his eminence's secretary, the -same who had opened the gate with his own hand, and with a key taken -from his own pocket. The abbé hastened forward, as he had done before, -and placed his body in front of the door of the chair in such way as to -conceal it from the rest of the procession. Thereupon there took place -between his eminence and him a mysterious dialogue, so mysterious that -no one could say whether his eminence made himself understood by speech, -or simply by the play of his features. Ordinarily the paralytic -dignitary uttered nothing more than unintelligible grunts, which became -a frightful roar when he was angry; but Abbé Ninfo understood those -grunts so well, when assisted by his eminence's expressive glance and -his intimate knowledge of his character and designs, that he interpreted -his master's wishes and ordered them executed with an intelligence, a -rapidity and a careful attention to details which bordered on the -marvellous. Indeed it seemed altogether too supernatural to be accepted -as genuine by the other subordinate priests, and they declared that his -eminence had retained the power of speech, but that by virtue of the -most profound diplomacy, he preferred not to use that power except with -Abbé Ninfo. Doctor Recuperati asserted however that his eminence's -tongue was paralyzed as completely as his arms and legs, and that the -only living portions of his being were the organs of the brain and of -the digestion. "With those," he said, "a man may live to be a hundred -years old, aye, and shake the world, as Jupiter shook Olympus, simply by -contracting his eyebrow." - -The result of the strange dialogue between Abbé Ninfo's sharp eyes and -the eloquent eyebrows of his eminence, was that the abbé turned -suddenly to Michel and motioned to him to draw near. Michel was strongly -tempted to do nothing of the sort, and to compel the abbé to walk to -him; but the Sicilian spirit suddenly awoke in him, and he stood on his -guard. He recalled all that his father had told him of the dangers to be -dreaded from the wrath of a certain cardinal, and, although he could not -tell whether the man before him was paralyzed or not, it suddenly -occurred to him that he might very well be Cardinal Hieronymo, of -Palmarosa. Thereupon he determined to dissemble, and he approached the -gilded, decorated chair adorned with his eminence's crest. - -"What are you doing at this gate?" the abbé demanded in a surly tone. -"Are you of the household?" - -"No, your excellency," replied Michel, with apparent tranquillity, -although he was tempted to strike his questioner. "I am passing by." - -The abbé glanced into the chair, and apparently he was given to -understand that it was useless to intimidate wayfarers, for he suddenly -changed his tone and manner as he turned again to Michel. - -"My friend," he said benignantly, "you seem unfortunate; are you a -mechanic?" - -"Yes, your excellency," said Michel, resolved to speak as little as -possible. - -"And you are fatigued? you have come a long distance?" - -"Yes, your excellency." - -"But you are strong for your years. How old are you?" - -"Twenty-one." - -Michel could safely risk that falsehood; for, although he had as yet no -beard on his chin, he had attained his full growth, and his active and -restless brain had already caused him to lose the first bloom of youth. -In this last reply he complied with a special injunction which his -father had laid upon him when they parted, and which came to his mind -most opportunely: "If you come to Sicily to join me one day or another," -said old Pier-Angelo, "remember that, until you have actually joined me, -you must not say a word of truth in reply to people who seem to you -curious and inquisitive. Tell them neither your name, nor your age, nor -your profession, nor mine, nor whence you come, nor whither you are -going. The police are more meddlesome than shrewd. Lie boldly and have -no fear." - -"If my father should hear me," thought Michel, after he had thus -distinguished himself, "he would be satisfied with me." - -"It is well," said the abbé, and he stepped away from the prelate's -door, so that the latter could see the poor devil who had thus attracted -his attention. Michel's eyes met the moribund's terrible glance, and he -thereupon felt more distrust and aversion than respect for that narrow -and despotic brow. Warned by an inward presentiment that he was in a -dangerous position, he changed the customary expression of his face, and -substituting sheepishness for pride therein, he bent his knee, hung his -head in order to escape the prelate's scrutiny, and pretended to await -his benediction. - -"His eminence blesses you mentally," said the abbé, after consulting -the cardinal's eyes, and he motioned to the bearers to go forward. - -The chair passed through the gateway and proceeded slowly along the -avenue. - -"I would like well to know," thought Michel, as he looked after the -procession, "whether my instinct deceived me, or whether that man is the -enemy of my family." - -He was about to continue his journey, when he observed that Abbé Ninfo -had not followed the cardinal, but was waiting until the last mule had -passed, in order to lock the gate and restore the key to his pocket. -This strange caretaking on the part of a man so close to the cardinal -was well calculated to make an impression on him, and the keen, sidelong -glance which that unattractive personage stealthily bestowed upon him -impressed him even more. - -"It is evident that I am already watched in this unhappy country," he -thought; "and that my father did not dream of the enmities against which -he warned me to be on my guard." - -The abbé motioned to him to come to the gate just as he withdrew the -key. Michel, persuaded that he must play his part more carefully than -ever, approached with an air of humility. - -"Here, my boy," said the abbé, offering him a small coin, "here is -something with which to refresh yourself at the first tavern, for you -seem to be very much fatigued." - -Michel repressed a thrill of indignation. He accepted the insult, put -out his hand and thanked the abbé humbly; then he ventured to say: - -"I am grieved that his eminence did not deign to give me his blessing." - -This well-acted bathos dispelled the abbe's suspicions. - -"Console yourself, my child," he said, in a nonchalant tone; "Divine -Providence has been pleased to deprive our holy cardinal of the use of -his limbs. Paralysis permits him to bless the faithful only with his -mind and heart." - -"May God cure and preserve him!" rejoined Michel; and he went his way, -very certain now that he was not mistaken, and that he had had a lucky -escape from a perilous meeting. - -He had not taken ten steps down the hill-side when, as he turned a -corner, he found himself face to face with a man who was close upon him -before either of them recognized the other, so little did they expect to -meet at that moment. Suddenly they both cried out at once and clung -together in a passionate embrace. Michel was in his father's arms. - -"O my child! my dear child! you, in this place!" cried Pier-Angelo. -"What joy and what anxiety for me! But joy carries the day and makes me -braver in spirit than I was a moment since. I was thinking of you and -saying to myself: 'It is lucky that Michel is not here, for our affairs -might well become serious.'--But here you are, and I cannot help being -the happiest of men." - -"Never fear, father," Michel replied; "I became prudent as soon as I set -my foot on my native soil. I have just met our enemy face to face; he -questioned me, and I lied in a way to do your heart good." - -Pier-Angelo turned pale.--"Who? who?" he exclaimed; "the cardinal?" - -"Yes, the cardinal in person, the paralytic in his great gilt box. It -must be the famous Prince Hieronymo, who was the terror of my childhood, -and who seemed to me all the more terrible because I did not know the -cause of my fear. Well, dear father, I assure you that even if he still -has the will to do harm, he has not the power, for all varieties of -infirmity seem to have conspired together to crush him. I will tell you -of our interview; but tell me first of my sister, and let us go at once -and surprise her." - -"No, Michel, no, the most important thing is for you to tell me how you -happened to see the cardinal so close. Let us go into this clump of -trees; I am not at all easy in my mind. Tell me, tell me quickly! He -spoke to you, you say? Is it certain that he spoke?" - -"Let me reassure you, father, he cannot speak." - -"Are you sure of it? You told me that he questioned you." - -"I was questioned in his behalf, I suppose; but, as I observed -everything with perfect coolness, and as that caricature of an abbé who -acts as his interpreter is too thin to conceal the whole interior of the -chair, I saw plainly that his eminence spoke with his eyes only. -Moreover, his eminence is stone deaf, for when I told my age, which the -abbé asked me for some unknown reason, I saw the abbé lean toward -monsignore and hold up his ten fingers twice over, and then the thumb of -his right hand." - -"Dumb, helpless, and deaf to boot! I breathe again. But how old did you -say you were? Twenty-one?" - -"You told me to lie as soon as I set foot in Sicily." - -"It is well, my child; Heaven aided and inspired you in that encounter." - -"I think so, but I should be much more certain of it if you would tell -me how the cardinal can be interested to know whether I am eighteen or -twenty-one." - -"That question cannot interest him in any way," said Pier-Angelo, with a -smile. "But I am overjoyed to find that you remembered my advice and -that you have suddenly acquired this prudence, of which I didn't believe -you to be capable. But tell me again, what did Abbé Ninfo--for it must -have been he, I am sure; was he very ugly?" - -"Frightful; he squints and has a flat nose." - -"That's the man! What else did he ask you? your name, or your province?" - -"No, no other direct question, except as to my age, and my brilliant -reply to that seemed to satisfy him so entirely that he turned his back, -promising me his eminence's blessing." - -"And his eminence didn't give it to you? he didn't raise his hand?" - -"The abbé himself told me a little later that his eminence was entirely -deprived of the use of his limbs." - -"What! that man spoke to you again? that fiend of hell came back to -you?" - -As he spoke, Pier-Angelo scratched the back of his neck, the only spot -on his head where his restless hand could find any hair. It was a sign -with him of great perturbation of spirit. - - - - -IV - -MYSTERIES - - -When Michel had told the story of his adventure to the most trivial -detail, and Pier-Angelo had admired and applauded his hypocrisy, the -young man said: - -"Now, father, pray tell me how it happens that you live here, without a -mask and under your own name, without being molested, whereas I, -immediately upon my arrival, must resort to stratagem and stand on my -guard?" - -Pier-Angelo seemed to hesitate a moment, then replied: - -"Why, it is a very simple matter, my child! I was charged with being a -conspirator long ago; I was put in prison, and probably escaped the -gallows by flight. The formal prosecution had already been begun. That -is all forgotten, and although the cardinal must have known my name and -my face at the time, it would seem that I have changed greatly, or else -his memory is much impaired, for he has seen me here, and must have -heard my name mentioned, without recognizing me and without the faintest -indication that he recalled the old affair; that was a test which I was -resolved to make. I was summoned by Abbé Ninfo to work in the -cardinal's palace; I went there boldly, after taking measures to ensure -Mila's safety in case I should be cast into prison without process. The -cardinal saw me and did not recognize me. Abbé Ninfo knows nothing -about me; so that I am, or at all events I was, free from anxiety on my -own account, and was just about to write you to come and see me, when it -began to be rumored in the city, a few days ago, that his eminence was -visibly improved, so much so that he was going to pass some time at his -country house at Ficarazzi yonder; you can see the palace from here, on -the hillside." - -"Then the villa a few steps away, where I just saw the cardinal enter, -is not his own residence?" - -"No; it belongs to his niece, Princess Agatha. Doubtless he thought that -he would make a détour and call upon her as he passed; but this same -visit worries me. I know that she was not expecting it--that she had -made no preparations to receive her uncle. He must have wanted to give -her an unpleasant surprise, for he surely knows that there is no reason -whatever why she should be fond of him. I greatly fear that this is a -cloak for some wicked design. In any event, this sudden activity on the -part of a man who, for a whole year, has only moved about in a wheeled -chair up and down a gallery in his city palace, gives me food for -thought, and I say that we must pay close attention to everything now." - -"But after all, father, all this does not tell me what danger there can -be for me personally! I was barely six months old, I believe, when I -left Sicily; I fancy that I was not implicated in the conspiracy in -which you were involved?" - -"No, of course not; but new-comers are watched. Every man of the people, -young, intelligent and from across the strait, is assumed to be -dangerous, permeated with the new ideas. A single word from your lips, -spoken in presence of a spy, or extorted from you by an informer, would -be enough to put you in prison; and when I went to claim you as my son, -it would be vastly worse if that wicked cardinal should by any chance be -restored to health and to the exercise of power. Then he might remember -that I was accused long ago, and he would apply to us, by way of -sentence, the proverb: 'Like father, like son.' Now do you understand?" - -"Yes, father, I will be prudent. Rely on me." - -"That is not enough. I must be perfectly sure of the cardinal's state of -health. I do not propose to let you enter Catania until I know what to -expect." - -"But what will you do to find out, father?" - -"I will remain in hiding here with you until we have seen the cardinal -and his procession start for Ficarazzi. It won't be long. If it is true -that he is deaf and dumb, he will not have a long interview with his -niece. As soon as we no longer run the risk of meeting him there, we -will go to the Palmarosa palace, where I am at work now. I will conceal -you in some corner; then I will go and consult the princess." - -"Is the princess in your interest, then?" - -"She is my most powerful and most generous patron. She employs me a -great deal, and I hope that, thanks to her, we shall not be persecuted." - -"Oh! father, was it she who gave you the money which enabled me to pay -my debts?" - -"Lent it my boy, lent it. I knew well enough that you would not accept -alms, but she gives me so much work that I can pay her gradually." - -"You may say: 'Soon,' father, for I am here! I have come to pay my debt -to you; my journey has no other purpose." - -"What, my dear child! have you sold a picture? have you earned some -money?" - -"Alas! no. I am not yet skilful enough or well enough known to earn -money. But I have arms, and I know enough to paint frescoes for -decoration. We will work together, my dear father, and I shall never -again have to blush to think that I am leading the life of an artist, -while you are wearing out your strength to gratify my misplaced tastes." - -"Are you in earnest, Michel?" cried the old man. "You really mean to be -a workman?" - -"I am fully determined upon it. I have sold my canvases, my engravings, -my books. I have given up my lodgings, thanked my teacher, bade farewell -to friends, to Rome, to glory. It was a little hard," added Michel, -feeling that his eyes were filling with tears; "but embrace me, father; -tell me that you are content with your son, and I shall be proud of what -I have done!" - -"Embrace me, my dear boy!" replied the old decorator, pressing his son -to his heart, and blending his own tears with his. "It is a fine thing, -a noble thing that you have done, and God will reward you abundantly for -it, I promise you. I accept your sacrifice, but let us understand each -other: it is for a time only, for a time which we will make as short as -possible by working rapidly to pay our debt. The experience will be -useful to you, and your genius will grow instead of being extinguished. -Between us, thanks to the excellent princess, who will pay us well, we -shall soon have earned money enough for you to return to your real -painting, without remorse and without imposing any privation on me. That -is agreed. Now let us speak of your sister. She is a perfect prodigy of -wit, that little girl. And how she has grown and how beautiful she is! -so beautiful that it's enough to frighten a poor devil of a father like -me." - -"I propose to remain a workman," said Michel, "for with a modest but -sure livelihood I can succeed in establishing my sister in life -according to her rank. Poor dear angel! Think of her sending me her -little earnings! And I, poor wretch, intended to bring them back to her -and was forced to sacrifice them! Ah! it is horrible, yes, detestable, -to try to become an artist when one has poor relations!" - -"We will speak of this again, and I will find a way to revive your taste -for your destiny, my child. But, hark! I hear the gate creaking--the -cardinal is leaving the villa; let us not show ourselves; we shall soon -see them going down on our right. You say that Ninfo opened the gate -himself with a key that he had? It is very strange, and very disturbing -too, to find that the good princess is not safe in her own house, that -these people have false keys to violate her privacy unexpectedly, and -that they evidently suspect her, since they spy upon her in this way!" - -"But of what can they possibly suspect her?" - -"Why, suppose it were only of protecting people whom they persecute! You -assure me that you have become prudent, and in any event you will -understand the importance of what I am going to tell you. You know -already that the Palmarosas were entirely devoted to the court of -Naples; that Prince Donigi, the oldest of the family, Princess Agatha's -father, and brother of the cardinal, was the wickedest Sicilian that was -ever known, the enemy of his fatherland and the persecutor of his -compatriots; and that, too, not from cowardice, like those who go over -to the side of the conqueror, nor from greed, like those who sell -themselves; he was rich and fearless; but he did it from ambition, from -his passion for domineering, in short, from an inborn wickedness that -was in his blood and caused him to take the keenest delight in -terrifying, tormenting, and humbling his neighbor. He was omnipotent in -the time of Queen Caroline, and, until it pleased God to rid us of him, -he inflicted all the harm he possibly could upon the patriotic nobles -and the poor devils who loved their country. His brother continued that -wrong-doing; but now he is going, too; and if the dying lamp still casts -a faint gleam, it is simply a proof that it is dying. Then all the -clientage of the Palmarosas, among the people of Catania, and especially -in the suburb where we live, will be able to breathe freely. There are -no more males in the family, and all the vast property, of which the -cardinal still has the income of a large part, will fall into the hands -of a single heiress, Princess Agatha. She is as good as her relations -have been bad, and her heart is in the right place. She is Sicilian to -the marrow and detests the Neapolitans! She will have great influence -when she is entirely in control of her property and her acts. If God -would permit her to marry and take into her house some worthy nobleman -as right-minded as she, that would change the tone of the administration -somewhat, and better our lot!" - -"Is the princess a young woman?" - -"Yes, still young, and might marry as well as not; but she has always -refused to do it thus far, in the fear, so far as I can understand, that -she would not be free to choose for herself.--But here we are close to -the park," added Pier-Angelo; "we may meet somebody, so let us talk of -indifferent matters only. I urge you, my child, to use here nothing but -the Sicilian dialect, which we very wisely used at Rome so long. You -have not forgotten your native language, I trust, since we parted?" - -"No, indeed," replied Michel. - -And he began to talk Sicilian with great volubility, to convince his -father that there was nothing about him to indicate the foreigner. - -"That is very good," said Pier-Angelo; "you have not the slightest -accent." - -They had made a détour and entered the park by a gate at a considerable -distance from that at which Michel had encountered Monsignore Hieronymo; -the gate was open and the numerous marks on the gravel indicated that -many men, horses, and wagons habitually passed in and out. - -"You will see here a great hurly-burly, most contrary to the ordinary -habits of the household," said the old painter to his son. "I will -explain it to you. But let us say nothing yet, that is the safest way. -Do not look about you too much, nor have the surprised air of a -new-comer. And, first of all, hide that travelling-bag among the rocks -near the waterfall; I shall remember the place. Rub your shoes in the -grass, so that you won't look like a traveller. Why, I believe you are -limping, are you hurt?" - -"Nothing, nothing, a little fatigue." - -"I am going to take you to a place where you can rest without being -disturbed by anyone." - -Pier-Angelo made several détours in the park, leading his son through -shady paths, and thus they reached the palace without meeting anyone, -although they heard a great deal of noise, which increased as they drew -near. They entered a corridor on the lower floor and walked rapidly by -an enormous room, filled with workmen and materials of all sorts, -assembled there for some incomprehensible purpose. The men were so busy -and making so great an uproar that they did not notice Michel and his -father. Michel had no time to understand what he saw. His father had -instructed him to follow him step by step, and he walked so fast that -the young traveller, utterly exhausted as he was, found it difficult to -keep pace with him in the narrow halls and steep stairways. - -Their journey through that labyrinth of secret passages seemed very long -to Michel. At last Pier-Angelo took a key from his pocket and opened a -small door on a dark corridor. Thereupon they found themselves in a long -gallery, adorned with statues and pictures. But the blinds were drawn -everywhere, and it was so dark that Michel could distinguish nothing. - -"You can take a nap here," said his father, after he had carefully -locked the little door and removed the key; "I am going to leave you -here; I will return as soon as possible, and then I will tell you what -we are to do." - -He walked the whole length of the gallery, and, raising a portière -embroidered with armorial bearings, pulled a bell-cord. In a few seconds -a voice answered inside, and a dialogue followed, in so low a tone, that -Michel could not hear a word. At last, a mysterious door was partly -opened, and Pier-Angelo disappeared, leaving his son in the darkness, -chill, and silence of that great empty room. - -At times, however, the echoing voices of the men at work below, the -sound of the saw and the hammer, snatches of song, laughter, and oaths -reached his ears. But the noises gradually died away as darkness -approached, and, after two hours, the most absolute silence reigned in -that unfamiliar abode in which Michel found himself imprisoned, dying of -hunger and weariness. - -Those two hours of suspense would have seemed very long to him if sleep -had not come to his aid. Although his eyes had become accustomed to the -darkness of the gallery, he made no attempt to inspect the objects of -art which it contained. He had dropped upon a rug, and fell into a sort -of lethargy, interrupted sometimes by the tumult below, and the -uneasiness which one feels when sleeping in a strange place. At last, -when nightfall was followed by the cessation of the work, he slept -soundly. - -But a strange cry, which seemed to come from one of the rose-shaped -openings which supplied the gallery with ventilation, woke him abruptly. -He instinctively raised his head and fancied that he saw a faint light -on the ceiling. The figures painted thereon seemed to move for an -instant. Another cry, fainter than the first, but so peculiar that -Michel was perturbed by it and moved to the lowest depths of his being, -sounded over his head. Then the light vanished. The silence and darkness -became so intense that he wondered if he had not dreamed. - -Another quarter of an hour passed, during which Michel, excited by what -had just happened, did not think of going to sleep again. He feared that -his father was in some danger which he could not define. He was -horrified at the thought that he himself was a captive and unable to -assist him. He examined all the doors and found them all securely -locked. He dared not make any noise, for, after all, it was a woman's -voice that he had heard, and he could not understand what connection -there could be between that cry and his own situation or Pier-Angelo's. - -At last the mysterious door opened, and Pier-Angelo appeared, carrying a -candle whose flickering light imparted a fantastic appearance to the -statues upon which it fell one after another. When he stood beside -Michel, he said in a low voice: "We are saved; the cardinal is in his -dotage, and Abbé Ninfo knows nothing of our affairs. The princess, for -whom I was compelled to wait a long while, because she had people about -her, is of the opinion that we should make no sort of mystery about you. -She thinks that that would be worse than simply to announce your return -without any affectation. So we will go back to your sister, who is -undoubtedly anxious because I am so late. But we have quite a little -walk, and I suppose you are dying of hunger and thirst. The steward of -the household, who is very kind to me, told me to take you to a little -buttery, where we shall find something to eat." - -Michel followed his father to a room which had on one side a glass door -with a curtain covering the glass outside. This room, which was in no -wise remarkable, was lighted by several candles, a fact which astonished -Michel somewhat. Pier-Angelo, observing his surprise, said that it was a -room where the princess's first lady's-maid came every night to -superintend the preparation of her mistress's supper. With that he -unceremoniously began to open cupboards and take out cold meats, -preserves, wine, fruit, and innumerable delicacies which he placed -helter-skelter on the table, laughing at each new discovery he made in -those inexhaustible cupboards--all to the unbounded amazement of Michel, -who failed to recognize his father's customary discretion and pride. - - - - -V - -THE CASINO - - -"Well," said Pier-Angelo, "don't you propose to help me? You sit there -with your arms folded and allow your father to wait on you! Do at least -take the trouble to eat and drink yourself!" - -"Excuse me, dear father, you seem to me to do the honors of the house -with a self-possession which I admire, but which I should not dare to -imitate. You also seem to me to be very much at home here." - -"I am more comfortable here than at home," rejoined Pier-Angelo, -nibbling at the wing of a chicken, and offering the other wing to his -son. "Don't expect me to give you such suppers often. But make the most -of this one without false shame; I told you that the majordomo -authorized me to do this." - -"The majordomo is simply a higher servant who pilfers like all the -others, and invites his friends to make themselves comfortable at his -mistress's expense. Excuse me, father, but this supper is distasteful to -me; my appetite has all disappeared at the thought that we are stealing -the princess's supper; for these Japanese plates filled with delicious -sweetmeats were not intended for our mouths, nor even for that of his -highness the majordomo." - -"Well, if I must tell you, that is true; but it was the princess herself -who bade me eat her supper, because she is not hungry to-night, and she -supposed that you would have some reluctance to sup with her servants." - -"Your princess is extraordinarily kind," said Michel, "and shows a most -exquisite delicacy of feeling with respect to me! I confess that I -should not care to eat with her lackeys. But, father, if you do it, if -it is the custom of the house, and a necessity of my new position, I -will be no more fastidious than you, and will accustom myself to it. But -how did it ever occur to the princess to spare me that petty annoyance -to-night?" - -"Because I spoke to her about you. As she is particularly interested in -me, she asked me many questions about you, and, when she learned that -you were an artist, she declared that she would treat you as an artist, -and that she would find an artist's work for you in her house, in short, -that she would show you all the consideration you could possibly -desire." - -"She is a very generous and very thoughtful lady," rejoined Michel, with -a sigh, "but I will not abuse her good-nature. I should blush to be -treated as an artist, side by side with my father the artisan. No, no, I -am an artisan myself, neither more nor less. I prefer to be treated like -my fellows, and if I eat here to-night, I propose to eat to-morrow where -my father eats." - -"It is well, Michel; those are noble sentiments. I drink your health! -This Syracuse wine gives me courage, and makes the cardinal seem no more -formidable than a mummy to me! But what are you looking at so intently?" - -"It seems to me that that curtain behind the glass keeps moving. There -is certainly some prying servant there who doesn't like to see us eating -such a delicious supper in his place. Ah! it will be very disagreeable -to have to deal with those people all the time! They must be carefully -handled, of course, for they can do us an ill turn with their masters, -and deprive an honest artisan, who happens to offend them, of a good -customer." - -"That is true, generally speaking, but there is nothing of the sort to -be feared here. I have the princess's confidence; I deal with her -directly and without any orders from the majordomo. And, then, her -servants are excellent fellows. Come, eat in peace, and don't keep -looking at that curtain, which the wind is blowing." - -"I assure you, father, that it isn't the wind, unless Zephyr has a -pretty little white hand with a diamond ring on the finger." - -"In that case it must be the princess's first lady's-maid. She must have -heard me tell her mistress that you were a well-favored youth, and she -is curious to see you. Sit round this way, so that she can gratify her -curiosity." - -"I am much more anxious to go and see Mila, father, than to be seen by -her ladyship the first lady's-maid. I have eaten my fill; let us go." - -"I will not go until I have applied once more to this excellent wine for -courage and strength. Drink with me again, Michel! I am so happy to be -with you, that I would get drunk if I had the time!" - -"And I am happy too, father; but I shall be still more so when we are at -home with my sister. I do not feel so much at ease as you do in this -mysterious palace: it seems to me that I am watched, or that some one -here is afraid of me. There is a silence and solitude here which do not -seem natural to me. People do not walk and show themselves as they do in -other places. We are stealthy in our movements, and we are being -stealthily watched. Anywhere else I would break a pane of glass to see -what there is behind that curtain--and just now, in the gallery, I had a -terrible shock. I was awakened by a cry, such a cry as I never heard -before." - -"A cry, really? How does it happen that I heard nothing of the sort, -although I was very near you, in the same part of the palace? You must -have dreamed it!" - -"No! no! I heard it twice; a faint cry, it is true, but so vibrating, so -peculiar that my heart beats fast when I think of it." - -"Ah! that is just like your romantic mind! Now I recognize you, Michel; -it delights my heart, for I was afraid that you had become too -reasonable. However, I am sorry, for the sake of your adventure, to be -obliged to tell you what I think about it, which is that her highness's -first lady's-maid must have seen a spider or a mouse as she passed -through one of the corridors that surround the great gallery of -paintings. Whenever she sees one of those creatures, she utters -frightful shrieks, and I take the liberty of laughing at her." - -This prosaic explanation annoyed the young artist a little. He hurried -his father, who was inclined to forget himself over the Syracuse wine, -and half an hour later he was in his sister's arms. - -The next day Michelangelo Lavoratori was installed with his father at -the Palmarosa palace, to work industriously there the rest of the week. -The work in progress was the decoration of the enormous ball-room -constructed of wood and canvas for the occasion, adjoining the peristyle -of that beautiful country-seat, and opening on the gardens on every -side. The princess, who ordinarily lived in strict retirement, was about -to give a magnificent fête, in which all the wealthy and noble -inhabitants of Catania and of the neighboring villas were to take part. -Her reason for this departure from her usual mode of life was as -follows: - -Every year the first society of that neighborhood co-operated to give a -subscription ball for the benefit of the poor, and each proprietor of a -spacious house, whether in the city or the country, was supposed to lend -it in his turn, and to pay a portion of the expenses of the fête when -the circumstances would permit. - -Although the princess was exceedingly charitable, her taste for -seclusion had led her to defer offering her palace; but her turn had -come at last. She had most generously assumed the whole burden of the -fête, agreeing to pay all the expenses of the ball, including the -decorations of the ball-room, music, etc. By reason of her generosity, -the sum realized for the poor promised to be quite handsome, and, as the -Villa Palmarosa was the most superb residence in the province, and all -the preparations were on a magnificent scale, the fête promised to be -the most brilliant one ever seen. - -The house was full of workmen, who had been at work a fortnight on the -ball-room, under the direction of Barbagallo the majordomo, a man of -wide experience in such matters, and under the preponderating influence -of Pier-Angelo Lavoratori, whose taste and skill were already well known -and highly esteemed throughout the province. - -On the first day, Michel, true to his agreement and resigned to his lot, -made garlands and arabesques with his father and the apprentices in his -employ; but his probation was confined to that day, for on the following -morning Pier-Angelo informed him that the princess wished him to -undertake the painting of allegorical figures on the ceiling and canvas -walls of the ball-room. The selection and size of the subjects was left -to his discretion; he was requested simply to make haste and to have -confidence in himself. That task did not require the care and finish of -a durable work; but it opened a wide field to his imagination, and when -he realized that he was in possession of that vast space, upon which he -was at liberty to cast his fancies without restraint, he had a moment of -genuine bliss, and he was more intoxicated than ever with his profession -of artist. - -His enthusiasm for the commission was greatly increased when the -princess sent word to him, through his father, that, if his work was -simply passable, it would be accepted as full payment of the sum lent to -Pier-Angelo for him; but that, if it earned the praise of connoisseurs, -he should be paid double. - -Thus Michel was on the point of becoming free in any event, and perhaps -rich for a year to come, if he displayed any talent at all. - -A single apprehension, but a very weighty one, chilled his joy; the day -for the ball was fixed, and it was not in the princess's power to -postpone it. A week remained, only a week! For an experienced decorator -that was enough, but for Michel, who had never done anything of the sort -on a large scale, and who could not refrain from looking upon it as a -matter in which his self-esteem was deeply involved, it was so little -that he shuddered at the bare thought. - -Luckily for him, having worked with his father in his boyhood, and -having watched him work a thousand times since, the processes of -water-color work were familiar to him, as well as the geometrical -principles of decoration; but when he attempted to select his subjects, -he was oppressed by the superabundance of his ideas, and the prodigality -of his imagination put him on the rack. He passed two nights drawing his -compositions, and all day on his scaffolding, adjusting them to the -space at his command. He did not think of sleeping or eating, or even of -improving his acquaintance with his young sister, until his work was -definitely laid out. At last it was done, and he transferred his labors -to the courtyard of an old ruined chapel in the centre of the park, -where his canvas ceiling, forty feet long, was stretched on the ground. -There, assisted by several zealous apprentices, who handed him his -colors all ready for use, and walking barefooted over his mythological -sky, he prayed to the muses to impart to his trembling hand the -necessary skill and boldness; and at last, armed with a gigantic brush, -which might fitly have been called a broom, he sketched his Olympus and -worked with so much fire and hope that the canvas was ready to be put in -place two days before the ball. - -He had still to superintend its removal and installation, and to retouch -such parts as were necessarily damaged in that process. And then he also -had to assist his father, who, having been delayed by him, still had -many borders of wainscots and cornices to finish. - -That week passed like a dream to Michel, and the few moments of repose -in which he indulged seemed to him delicious beyond words. The villa was -wonderfully beautiful inside as well as outside. The gardens and the -park gave one an idea of the earthly paradise. Nature is so teeming in -that country, the flowers so beautiful and sweet, the vegetation so -luxuriant, the streams so clear and swift, that art has little to do in -order to create fairyland around the palaces there. Not that blocks of -lava and vast fields of ashes do not, here and there, present the image -of desolation beside the Elysian Fields. But those horrors add to the -charm of the oases which the volcanic flames have spared. - -Villa Palmarosa, situated on the slope of a hill whose rugged summit was -exposed to the ravages of Ætna, had existed for centuries amid -continual disasters which it had been privileged to contemplate -undisturbed. The palace was very old, of a graceful type of -architecture, borrowed from Saracen models. The ball-room, which now -concealed the façade of the ground-floor, presented a striking contrast -to the dark coloring and severe decorations of the upper floors. Within, -the contrast was even more striking. While all was uproar and confusion -on the ground floor, all was tranquillity, order and mystery on the -floor above, where the princess lived. At meal times Michel entered that -silent portion of the mansion, for the little room with the glass door, -where he had supped with his father on the first evening, was reserved -for him, as a special and mysterious favor. They were all alone there, -and if the curtain moved again, the movement was so slight that Michel -could not be certain that he had inspired a romantic passion in the -first lady's-maid's breast. - -The palace being built against the cliff, the princess's apartments were -on a level with terraces embellished with flower-beds and fountains; and -by descending a narrow flight of steps, boldly cut in the lava, one -could reach by that means the park and the open country. Once Michel -wandered into those Babylonian flower-gardens suspended over a -terrifying abyss. He saw the windows of the princess's boudoir, which -was two hundred feet above the main entrance of the palace, and yet she -could go out of doors to walk without descending a single step. Such -boldness of conception and such charm in the construction of a dwelling -made him giddy both physically and mentally. But he never saw the queen -of that enchanted abode. At the times when he went up to her apartments -she was taking a siesta or receiving visits from her intimate friends in -the salons on the second floor. - -This Sicilian custom of living on the upper floors, to enjoy the fresher -air and more perfect quiet, is found in several Italian cities. These -private apartments, generally small and quiet, are sometimes called the -_Casino_, and, with their private gardens, form, as it were, a distinct -dwelling above the main palace. This of which we are speaking was set -back from the front and side walls of the lower building by the width of -a very broad terrace, so that it was concealed, and, as it were, -isolated. At the back it formed a building of a single story, on the -level of the flower-garden, since the lower edifice was built against -the cliff. Viewing it from that side, one would have said that a stream -of lava had flowed against the palace and hardened there, and had -blotted out one whole side of it up to the level of the Casino. But the -villa had been constructed in that way to avoid danger from fresh -eruptions. Looking at it from the direction of Ætna, one would have -taken it for a small summer-house perched on top of a rock. Not until -you had made the circuit of that mass of volcanic débris did you -discover a magnificent palace, consisting of three great structures, one -upon another, and climbing the hill backward, so to speak. - -Under any other circumstances Michel would have been curious to know if -this lady, who was said to be lovely and gracious, was, poetically -speaking, worthy to inhabit so noble an abode; but his imagination, -engrossed by the hurried work which had been entrusted to him, paid -little heed to other things. - -He felt so fatigued when he laid aside his rough brush for an instant, -that he was compelled to fight against drowsiness in order not to -prolong his siesta beyond half an hour. Indeed, he was so afraid that -the zeal of his companions might abate, that he took that brief interval -of rest by stealth in the gallery of paintings, where his father would -lock him in, and where it seemed that no one ever set foot. Two or three -times he lacked courage to go and pass the night in the suburb of -Catania, although his house was among the first on the road from the -villa, and he consented to allow his father to procure a bed for him in -the palace. When he did return to the wretched hovel where Mila bloomed -like a rose under glass, he neither saw nor comprehended anything that -took place about him. He confined himself to kissing his sister and -telling her that he was glad to see her, but he had no time to -scrutinize her or to talk with her. - -The day before the fête was a Sunday. It only remained to give a last -glance and a finishing touch to the work. He determined to dress with -some care and to stroll about the city after escorting Mila to the -evening service. He soon learned the location of the principal churches, -squares, and buildings. Lastly, his father introduced him to several of -his friends and relations, who welcomed him cordially, and with whom he -strove to be amiable. But the contrast between that environment and the -society he had frequented at Rome made him sad in spite of himself, and -he retired early, longing for the morrow; for, in presence of his work, -and under the spell of the noble edifice in which he labored, he forgot -that he was of the common people, and remembered only that he was an -artist. - -At last that day of hope and dread arrived, the day on which Michel's -work was to be applauded or ridiculed by the élite of Sicilian society. - - - - -VI - -THE STAIRCASE - - -"What! no farther advanced than this?" cried the majordomo, in despair, -rushing in among the workmen. "Great God! what are you thinking of? The -clock will strike seven in a moment; at eight the carriages will begin -to arrive, and half of this room is not yet draped!" - -As this apostrophe was addressed to no person in particular, no one -replied, and the workmen continued to work with more or less speed, each -according to the measure of his strength and his skill. - -"Room, room for the flowers!" cried the controller of that notable -branch of the establishment. "Put a hundred boxes of camellias in rows -along the benches!" - -"How do you expect to arrange your boxes of flowers before the carpets -are down?" queried Master Barbagallo, with a profound sigh. - -"And where do you expect me to put my boxes and flower-pots?" retorted -the head gardener. "Why haven't your upholsterers finished their work?" - -"Ah! there you are! why haven't they?" said the other, in a tone of -intense indignation. - -"Room! room for my ladders!" cried another voice; "the orders are that -everything must be lighted at eight o'clock sharp, and that doesn't give -me any too much time to light so many chandeliers. Room, room, I say!" - -"Painters, take away your ladders," cried the upholsterers, in their -turn; "we can do nothing as long as you are in the way." - -"Such confusion, such an uproar, it's a second Tower of Babel," muttered -the majordomo, wiping his brow. "I did all that I could to see that -everything was done at the proper time; I warned everyone more than a -hundred times; and here you are, all in a muddle, disputing the ground -with one another, in one another's way, and making no progress at all. -It is hopeless! it is disgusting!" - -"Whose fault is it?" said the man with the flowers. "Can I put my -wreaths on bare walls and my flowerpots on rough boards?" - -"And can I climb up to the ceiling," said the man with the candles, "if -my ladders are taken away to lay carpets? Do you take my men for bats, -do you want me to make thirty honest fellows break their necks?" - -"How do you expect my men to lay their carpets," said the chief -upholsterer, in his turn, "if the painters don't take away their -ladders?" - -"And how do you expect our ladders to be taken away if we are still on -them?" shouted one of the painters. - -"The fault is all yours, you daubers!" cried the frantic majordomo; "or, -rather, your master is the only culprit," he added, noticing that the -young man whom he addressed glared fiercely at him at the epithet of -dauber. "It's that old madman of a Pier-Angelo, who is not even here to -direct you, I'll wager. Where can he be? At the nearest wineshop, I'll -stake my head!" - -A voice, still full and resonant, broke forth at the highest point of -the ceiling with the refrain of an old ballad, and, on looking up, the -wrathful majordomo saw the glistening bald head of the -decorator-in-chief. Evidently the old man was laughing at the majordomo, -and, being master of the field, proposed to put the finishing touches to -his work at his leisure. - -"Pier-Angelo, my friend," said the other, "you are making sport of us! -That is too bad of you. You act like an old spoiled child, as you are; -but we shall lose patience at last. This is no time to laugh and sing -your drinking-songs." - -Pier-Angelo did not deign to reply; he simply shrugged his shoulders as -he talked with his son, who was even higher up than he, shading the -dress of a dancing-girl of Herculaneum, who swam in a blue canvas sky. - -"There are enough figures, enough folds and shading!" cried the -majordomo, beside himself. "Who in the devil will ever look up there, to -see if there's anything wrong with your divinities in the firmament? The -general effect is there, and that's all that is necessary. Come, come -down, you old fox, or I'll shake the ladder you are standing on." - -"If you touch my father's ladder," exclaimed young Michel, in a voice of -thunder, "I will crush you with this chandelier. No jests of that sort, -Signor Barbagallo, or you will be sorry for them." - -"Let him talk, and go on with your work," said old Pier-Angelo, calmly. -"Disputing takes time; don't waste your breath in empty words." - -"Go down, father, go down," said the young man. "I am afraid that in -this confusion they may give you a fall; I shall finish in a moment. Go -down, I entreat you, if you expect me to retain my presence of mind." - -Pier-Angelo descended the ladder slowly; not that he had lost, at sixty -years of age, the strength and agility of youth, but in order to make -the time that his son required to complete his work seem less long. - -"What folly, what trifling!" said the majordomo to the old man. "You -work over these temporary canvases as if they were to be exhibited in a -museum, whereas they will be rolled up and stored in a garret to-morrow, -and will have to be covered with different figures for the next fête! -Who will thank you for it? Who will pay the slightest attention to -them?" - -"Not you; everybody knows that," retorted the young painter, -contemptuously, from the top of his ladder. - -"Hush, Michel, and attend to your work," said his father. "Everyone -takes pride in doing the best he can," he added, looking at the steward. -"There are some who take pride in claiming the credit of all our labors! -Come! the upholsterers may begin. Give me a hammer and some nails, you -fellows! As I have delayed you, it's no more than fair that I should -help you." - -"Always a good comrade!" said one of the upholsterers, handing the old -painter some tools. "Come, Master Pier-Angelo, let art and trade lend -each other a hand! One must be mad to get into trouble with you." - -"Oh! yes," grumbled Barbagallo, who, contrary to his customary reserved -and courteous habit, was in a savage humor that evening; "that's the way -everybody pays court to the obstinate old fool, and he doesn't care a -fig how much trouble he makes for others." - -"Instead of grumbling, you ought to help at the nailing, or by lighting -the candles," said Pier-Angelo, with a mocking air. "But, psha I you are -afraid you might spoil your satin breeches and tear your ruffles." - -"Master Pier-Angelo, you are altogether too familiar, and I swear that I -will never employ you after to-day." - -"God grant it!" retorted the other with his accustomed phlegm, -accompanying himself with sturdy, measured blows of the hammer upon the -nails which he drove in quick succession; "but, on the very next -occasion, you will come and implore me, and say that nothing can be done -without me; and I, as usual, shall forgive your impertinence." - -"Well!" said the majordomo to Michel, as he came slowly down his ladder, -"is it done at last? That is very fortunate! Quick! quick! help the -upholsterers, or the gardeners, or the lamplighters. Do something to -make up for lost time." - -Michel eyed the majordomo with a haughty air. He had so entirely -forgotten even the idea of becoming a mere workman, that he could not -imagine how that subordinate could venture to order him to take part in -tasks unconnected with his special duties; but, just as he was about to -make a sharp retort, he heard his father's voice calling him. - -"Come, Michel, bring us some nails here, and help these good fellows, -who won't finish in time without us." - -"Nothing can be fairer," the young man replied. "I may not be very -skilful at that work, but I have good strong arms for stretching. Come, -what must I do? Tell me, you fellows!" - -"Good!" exclaimed Magnani, a young journeyman upholsterer, outspoken and -full of animation, who lived next door to the Lavoratori family in the -suburb. "Be a good comrade like your father, whom everybody loves, and -you will be loved as he is. We have been told that, because you had -studied painting at Rome, you were inclined to be a little conceited, -and you certainly do go about the city in a coat that is hardly fitted -for an artisan. You have a very pleasing face, to be sure, but people -blame you for being ambitious." - -"Where would be the harm?" rejoined Michel, working industriously beside -Magnani. "Who is not entitled to be ambitious?" - -"I like the frankness of your reply, but every man who wishes to be -admired should begin by winning affection." - -"Am I hated, pray, in this country, where I have just arrived, and where -I know no one as yet?" - -"It is your own country; you were born here, your family is well known -here, and your father highly esteemed; and the very reason that -everybody has their eyes fixed on you is that you have just arrived. -People think you a comely fellow, well dressed and well built. So far as -I am able to judge, you have talent, the figures you have sketched and -colored up yonder are not mere vulgar daubs. Your father is proud of -you, but that is no reason why you should be proud of yourself. You are -still a child, you are several years younger than I; you have almost no -beard on your chin; you have never had an opportunity to furnish proofs -of courage and virtue. When you have suffered a little because of the -hardships of your condition in life, without complaining, then we will -forgive you for carrying your head high and swaying from your hips up as -you cross the street, with your cap over one ear. Otherwise we shall -tell you that you are trying to impose on us, and that if you are not an -artisan, but an artist, you had better ride in a carriage and not look -the young men of your own rank in the face; for, you see, your father is -a workman like us; he has talent in his line, and it may be more -difficult to paint flowers, fruit, and birds on a cornice than to hang -draperies at a window and arrange colors to harmonize in furnishing a -room. But the difference isn't so great that we are not cousins-german -in trade. I do not think that I am any better than the carpenter or -mason; why do you think yourself above me?" - -"I have no such thought," Michel replied; "God preserve me from it!" - -"In that case, why didn't you come to our artisans' ball last night? I -know that your cousin Vincenzo wanted to bring you, and you refused." - -"Do not form a bad opinion of me for that, my friend; it may be that I -am of a melancholy and unsociable temperament." - -"I don't believe it. Your face says the contrary. Forgive me for -speaking to you without ceremony; it is because I like you that I -reproach you in this way. But our carpet is all nailed here; we must go -somewhere else." - -"Two or three of you to each chandelier!" cried the head lamplighter to -his men; "you will never finish if you scatter so!" - -"I say! I am all alone!" cried Visconti, one of the lighters, a stout -fellow and fond of the bottle, who, having a little wine in his brain -already, did not hold the lighted match within two inches of the candle. -Michel, impressed by the lesson Magnani had given him, placed a stool -under the chandelier and attempted to assist Visconti. - -"Ah! that is right!" said the latter; "Master Michel's a good fellow, -and he will have his reward. The princess pays well, and moreover she -wants everybody to enjoy themselves in her house on fête days. There -will be a supper for us after the dessert of the nobility's supper, and -there'll be no lack of good wine. I have already had a little on account -as I passed through the pantry." - -"And so you are burning your fingers!" said Michel, with a smile. - -"Perhaps your hand won't be as steady as it is now, two or three hours -later," retorted Visconti; "for you will come to supper with us, won't -you, young man? Your father will sing us his old ballads, which are -always good for a laugh. There'll be more than a hundred of us at table -at once! Ah! what a lark we will have!" - -"Make room, make room!" cried a tall footman, with gold lace on all the -seams of his livery; "the princess is coming to see if everything is -ready. Make haste, stand aside! Don't shake the carpets so hard, you -raise a dust. I say! you lighters up there, don't drop the wax so! take -away your tools, make a passage!" - -"Well," said the majordomo, "now you will hold your peace, I trust, you -workmen! Come, make haste; if you are late, at least act as if you were -hurrying. I won't be responsible for the rebuke you are going to -receive. I am very sorry for you. But it's your own fault; I can't -justify you. Ah! Master Pier-Angelo, this time you have no excuse for -coming to beg for compliments." - -These words reached young Michel's ears, and all his pride reawoke in -his heart. The idea that his father could _beg for_ compliments and -receive reproaches was intolerable to him. If he had not as yet been -able to see the princess, he could fairly say that he had made no -attempt to see her. He was not one of those who run eagerly at the heels -of a wealthy and powerful person, to feast that person's eyes with the -spectacle of puerile and servile admiration. But this time he stooped as -he stood on the stool, seeking with his eyes that haughty personage who, -according to Master Barbagallo, would in a moment humiliate an -assemblage of intelligent and willing mechanics with a gesture or a -word. He remained in that position, considerably above the level of the -crowd, in order to see better, but all ready to jump down, rush to his -old father's side, and answer for him if, in a spasm of too great -affability, the heedless old man should allow himself to be insulted. - -The vast apartment which they were hastening to complete was nothing -more than an immense garden terrace, covered on the outside with such a -wilderness of foliage, garlands and streamers, that one might have taken -it for an enormous bower after the style of Watteau. Within, movable -floors had been laid on the gravel. Three great marble fountains, -decorated with mythological characters, were not at all in the way in -that extemporized ball-room, but formed its most beautiful decoration. -There was sufficient room to promenade and to dance between those -graceful piles. They discharged their jets of limpid water into -veritable thickets of flowers, beneath the resplendent glare of the -great chandeliers, which spangled them with sparks of light. Benches, -arranged as in an ancient amphitheatre, dotted with rose-bushes here and -there, provided numerous seats for the guests and did not impede the -circulation. - -The ceiling was so high that the main stairway of the palace, an -admirable piece of architecture, adorned with antique statues and jasper -urns of the most beautiful patterns, was wholly within the ball-room. -The white marble stairs were newly covered with a purple carpet, and the -lackeys who preceded the princess having swept back the crowd of -workmen, there was a solemn void about the foot of the staircase. -Everybody instinctively held his peace in anticipation of a majestic -spectacle. - -The workmen, impelled by a feeling of curiosity, ingenuous and -respectful in some, mocking and indifferent in others, all fixed their -eyes on the great carved doors at the top of the staircase. Michel felt -that his heart was beating fast, but it was with anger no less than with -impatience. "Who in God's name are these nobles and wealthy mortals," he -said to himself, "that they walk so proudly over the altars and -platforms that our degraded hands construct for them? A goddess of -Olympus would hardly be worthy to appear in such state, at the summit of -such a temple, to the base mortals prostrate at her feet! Oh! insolence, -falsehood and mockery! It may be that the woman who is about to come -forth before my eyes is a woman of narrow mind, of ordinary parts; and -yet all these bold, strong men, uncover at her approach!" - -Michel had asked his father very few questions concerning Princess -Agatha's tastes and character; and even those few questions Pier-Angelo -had answered, especially of late, in an absent-minded way, as his custom -was when anyone introduced a subject foreign to the train of thought -induced by his work. But Michel was proud, and the thought that he was -about to be brought face to face with some one prouder than himself -aroused a feeling of anger and something like hatred in his heart. - - - - -VII - -A GLANCE - - -When the Princess of Palmarosa appeared at the top of the stairs, Michel -thought that he saw before him a girl of fifteen, she was so lithe and -slender in figure and in attitude; but, at each stair that she -descended, he discovered an additional year upon her brow; and when he -saw her near at hand, he concluded that she was about thirty. That did -not prevent her from being beautiful; not resplendent and superb, but -pure and sweet, like the bunch of white cyclamen she carried in her -hand. She had a reputation for grace and charm rather than for beauty; -for she had never been a coquette, and did not seek to create a -sensation. Many much less beautiful women had kindled passions because -they had chosen so to do. Princess Agatha had never furnished food for -gossip, and if there had ever been any profound emotion in her life, -society had never had any positive knowledge of it. - -She was very charitable, indeed, it might be said that her only -occupation was the distribution of alms; but it was done without parade -or ostentation, and she was not called the mother of the poor. In a -majority of cases the people whom she assisted did not know the source -of the assistance they received. She was not a very regular attendant at -church, although she did not avoid religious services. She had artistic -tastes, and surrounded herself most discerningly with the most beautiful -objects and the noblest minds. But she did not shine in the centre of -her social system, nor did she make a pedestal of her connections or her -wealth. In everything it seemed that she preferred to do as all the -world did, and that, whether from apathy, from good taste, or from -inward timidity, she had made it an object in life never to attract -notice. There never was a more inoffensive woman. People esteemed her, -loved her without enthusiasm, appreciated her worth without jealousy. -But was she appreciated at her true worth? That is something that it -would have been difficult to say. She was not supposed to have a great -intellect. The highest praise that her oldest friends bestowed upon her -was to say that she was an absolutely reliable person and of a very even -disposition. - -All this could be readily seen in the first glance that one cast upon -her, and young Michel, as he watched her descend the staircase with -careless grace, felt his aversion vanish with his dread. It was -impossible to retain a feeling of irritation in presence of so pure, and -calm, and sweet a face. But, as he had prepared, in his anger, to defy -the awe-inspiring glance of a domineering and splendid beauty, he felt -as if his mind were relieved of a great weight when he saw an ordinary -woman. He had an instinctive feeling that, even if she came to scold, -she would have neither the energy, nor, perhaps, the spirit to be -insulting. His heart became calmer, and he gazed at her with increasing -tranquillity, as if the refreshing fluid emanating from a serene mind -had found its way from her to him. - -She was richly but simply dressed in a heavy silk gown of a dull milky -white, without ornament. A small circle of diamonds embellished her -glossy black hair, parted in bands over a smooth, pure forehead. -Doubtless she could have worn richer jewels, but her coronet was a work -of art of most excellent workmanship, and did not weary her small, -admirably poised head with a dragging weight. Her shoulders, half bare, -had lost the interesting thinness of early youth, and had not yet -attained the luxuriant rotundity of the third or fourth youth. There -were still some delicate lines in her figure, and in her every movement -a careless suppleness, which seemed to be unaware of its own existence -and to pose for no one. - -With the end of her fan she slowly waved aside the footman and the -majordomo, who were exerting themselves to make room for her, and passed -before them, stepping easily and without awkward haste over the boards -and rolls of carpet which still lay in her path; and with a sort of -heedlessness, humble or lordly, as you please, allowing the long folds -of her beautiful white silk dress to drag in the dust left by the feet -of the mechanics. With no sign of repugnance, perhaps without observing -them, she brushed against the perspiring workmen, who could not step -aside quickly enough. She passed through a group of gardeners, who were -moving huge boxes, and did not seem to notice or to be disturbed by the -danger of being crushed or wounded. She returned the salutations of -those who saluted her, without the slightest assumption of superiority -or patronage, and when she was in the midst of the swarm of men, boards, -ladders, and canvas, she halted very calmly, looked about to see what -was finished and what was not, and said in a mild and encouraging voice: - -"Well, _gentlemen_, do you hope to have everything finished in time? We -have barely half an hour." - -"I will answer for everything, my dear princess," replied Pier-Angelo, -approaching her with a cheerful air; "don't you see that I am putting my -hand to everything?" - -"In that case, I have no fear," said she, "and I rely also upon -everybody here. It would be a pity to leave such a beautiful piece of -work unfinished. I am exceedingly pleased. It is all conceived with -taste and executed with great care. I thank you very much for the pains -you have taken to do the work well, _gentlemen_, and this fête will -redound to your glory." - -"My son Michel will have his share in it, I trust," rejoined the old -decorator; "will your ladyship deign to permit me to present him to you? -Come, Michel, come and kiss the princess's hand, my son; she is a kind -princess, you see!" - -Michel did not move a muscle to approach them. Although the way in which -the princess had _scolded_ his father had touched him and won his heart, -he was by no means inclined to humble himself before her. He was well -aware that the Italian custom of kissing a lady's hand denotes either -the respectful homage of a friend or the prostration of an inferior, -and, having no right to claim the former title, he did not choose to -descend to the other. He removed his velvet cap and stood erect, -affecting to look the princess in the face with perfect self-possession. - -Thereupon she fixed her eyes upon him, and, whether because her features -wore an expression of kindness and cordiality in contrast to the -careless good-nature of her manners, or because Michel was assailed by a -strange hallucination, he was stirred to the lowest depths of his being -by that unexpected glance. It seemed to him that a searching flame, -intense and penetrating, entered his very soul from the great lady's -soft eyes; that an ineffable affection, coming forth from that unknown -heart, had taken possession of his whole being; in short, that the -Princess Agatha said to him in language more eloquent than any human -words: "Come to my arms, come to my heart!" - -Michel, bewildered, fascinated, beside himself, shuddered, turned pale, -approached with an involuntary, convulsive movement, tremblingly took -the princess's hand, and, as he was about to put it to his lips, raised -his eyes once more to hers, thinking that he had been mistaken, and that -he could in that way put an end to a dream that was at once painful and -delicious. But those pure and limpid eyes expressed a love so absolute -and so trustful that he lost his head, felt that his senses were leaving -him, and fell as if crushed at the signora's feet. - -When he recovered his presence of mind, the princess was already several -steps away. She walked on, followed by Pier-Angelo, and when they were -alone at the farther end of the room, they seemed to be discussing some -detail of the fête. Michel was ashamed; his emotion rapidly vanished in -face of the thought that he had presented to all his companions a -spectacle of incredible weakness and presumption; but, as the princess's -kind words had electrified them all, and as they had all resumed their -labor with a sort of joyful frenzy, they sang and hammered, and bustled -about him, and his adventure was a mere incident, lost, or at least not -understood, in the crowd. Some had noticed, with a smile, that he bowed -lower than he needed to do, and that it was apparently an aristocratic -and gallant habit which he had brought from abroad with his haughty air -and his fine clothes. Others thought that he had stumbled over a board -when he was about to bow, and that his awkwardness had caused his -confusion. - -Magnani alone had watched him closely and half guessed the truth. - -"Michel," he said, after a few moments, when their work had brought them -together once more, "you seem very timid, but I believe that you are -insanely bold. It is certain that the princess thought you a handsome -fellow, and that she looked at you in a certain way which might have -meant something very different on the part of any other woman; but do -not be too presumptuous, my boy; this excellent princess is a virtuous -lady; she has never been known to have a lover, and if she chose to take -one, it isn't at all likely that she would begin with a little painter -in distemper, when so many illustrious noblemen ----" - -"Hush, Magnani," said Michel, vehemently; "your jests wound me, and I -have never given you the right to laugh at me in this way; I won't -endure it." - -"Come, no temper," rejoined the young journeyman; "I have no intention -of offending you, and when a man has arms like mine, he would be a -coward to insult a boy like you. Besides, I am not naturally unkind, and -as I told you before, if I speak frankly to you, it is because I am -inclined to like you. I feel that you have a mind superior to mine, -which attracts and charms me. But I also feel that you have a weak -character and a wild imagination. If you have more intelligence and more -refinement, I have more common sense and experience. Do not take my -reflections in bad part. You have no friends among us as yet, and you -could already reckon more than one enmity prepared to break out, if you -should incline to see what is going on around you. I may be able to be -of service to you in some way, and if you listen to my warning, you will -avoid many vexations which you do not foresee. Come, Michel, do you -scorn me, and reject my friendship?" - -"On the contrary, I request it," replied Michel, moved and completely -conquered by Magnani's frankness; "and I propose to show myself worthy -of it by justifying myself. I know nothing, I believe nothing, I think -nothing of the princess. For the first time in my life I see so great a -lady at close quarters, and ----. But why do you smile?" - -"You stop to ask about my smile to avoid finishing your sentence. I will -finish it for you. You find that a great lady is something divine, and -you fall madly in love with her. You love grandeur! I understood that -perfectly the first time I saw you." - -"No, no!" cried Michel, "I have not fallen in love; I do not know this -woman, and, as for her grandeur, I do not know in what it consists. You -might as well say that I am in love with her palace, her dress, or her -diamonds, for thus far I have seen no other signs of superiority, except -excellent taste, in which we assist her materially, it seems to me, as -well as her jeweller and her dressmaker." - -"As you know nothing more of her, that is well said," rejoined Magnani; -"but in that case will you explain to me why you nearly fainted when you -kissed her hand?" - -"Do you explain it to me, if you can; for my part, I have no idea. I -knew that ladies had a way of using their eyes which was bolder than -that of a courtesan, and at the same time more contemptuous than that of -a nun. Yes, I had noticed that; and that blending of seduction and pride -drove me wild when I happened, against my will, to touch elbows with any -of them in a crowd. And that is why I hated great ladies. But this one -has a glance which resembles no other woman's. I could not undertake to -say whether it is voluptuous languor or good-humored torpor; but no -woman ever looked at me so, and ---- what can you expect, Magnani? I am -young and impressionable, and it gave me the vertigo; that is all. I am -not intoxicated with vanity, I swear, for I am perfectly certain that -she would have looked at you in the same way if chance had placed your -face before her instead of mine." - -"I don't believe it," replied Magnani, pensively. - -He had dropped his hammer and seated himself on a bench. He seemed to be -struggling painfully to solve a problem. - -"Ah! young men!" exclaimed old Pier-Angelo, as he passed them; "you are -chattering and not working; only the old men know how to work fast." - -Touched by the rebuke, Michel hastened to assist his father, after -whispering to his new friend that they would resume their conversation -later. - -"Your best course," said Magnani, in an undertone, with a strange -expression, "will be to think as little as possible about it." - -Michel loved his father fervently, and with good reason. Pier-Angelo was -a man of spirit, of courage, and of sound sense. An artist in his way, -he followed the good old traditions in his work, and was not irritated -by the innovations that he saw all about him. On the contrary, he very -quickly assimilated such progressive ideas as he was made to understand. -He was an easy-going, jovial mortal, optimistic in general, tolerant in -particular cases, almost never ascribing evil intentions, but never -paltering with them when it was no longer possible for him to entertain -his generous illusions. A straightforward, simple, unselfish soul, -content with little, entertained by everything, loving work for himself, -and money for others, that is to say, living from day to day, and unable -to deny his neighbor anything. - -Providence had given the impulsive Michel the only guide he could ever -have accepted; for that young man was entirely different from his father -in several respects. He was restless, suspicious, slightly egotistical, -with a decided tendency toward ambition, instability and anger. And yet -his also was a noble nature, because it was sincerely in love with the -noble and the great, and surrendered enthusiastically when its -confidence was justified. But it is beyond question that his temperament -was less happy than it might have been, that his active and inquisitive -intellect often fed upon itself; and that his sensitive and excitable -mind sometimes made a desperate onslaught on the tranquillity of his -heart. - -If a rough hand, the heavy hand of a mechanic desperately bent upon -money-making, or subject to all the jealous indignation peculiar to the -republican spirit, had undertaken to mould young Michel's mobile nature -and discontented mind, it would have driven them to exasperation and -would speedily have shattered or destroyed them. The improvident and -cheerful temper of Pier-Angelo had acted as a counterpoise and sedative -upon his passionate instincts. He rarely talked the language of cold -reason to him, and never thwarted his fickle inclinations. But the -fearless heedlessness of certain natures has a sympathetic effect which -makes us blush for our weaknesses, and acts upon us more powerfully by -example, by precepts nobly and simply put in execution, than all the -speeches and sermons in the world could do. It was by this means that -Pier-Angelo, while seeming to accede to Michel's desires and caprices, -still exerted the only ascendancy to which he could have been induced to -submit. - - - - -VIII - -THE INTRUDER - - -Once more, when he saw his father doing the work of two, Michel was -ashamed of his absent-mindedness, and hastened to assist him. There was -still a temporary staircase to be erected at one side of the ball-room, -to communicate with a gallery on the floor above, and afford the -anticipated crowd an additional artery of circulation. - -They could already hear numerous carriages rumbling in the distance over -that magnificent street which is proudly called the _Ætnean Road_, and -which passes through Catania in a straight line, from the water's edge -to the foot of Ætna; as if, to quote a traveller, "the people who had -erected their superb palaces along that road had intended to afford the -angry volcano a way befitting its majesty." - -At critical moments, when the time is too short, when the hours seem -rather to gallop than to walk, when human forces are at odds with the -impossible in some feverish toil, very few men are endowed with -sufficient strength of will to retain the hope of triumphing at last. At -such moments it is simply a matter of quadrupling one's own faculties -and performing a miracle. Most of the workmen were utterly discouraged -and proposed to abandon that temporary structure and to conceal the -opening with flowers and pictures; in short, to inflict upon the -organizers of the fête the unpleasant surprise of a departure from -their plans. Pier-Angelo revived the courage of those who seemed -well-disposed, and set to work. Michel performed prodigies in the way of -assisting them; and in ten minutes, the task which it was said would -take two hours was completed as if by magic. - -"Michel," then said the old man, wiping his head, which was bald to the -base of the skull, "I am satisfied with you, and I see that you are a -good workman; which, in my eyes, is an indispensable qualification for -any man who wishes to become a great artist. Everyone cannot work fast, -and most of those who make haste do bad work. We must not despise them -for that. In the ordinary course of affairs all work requires coolness, -calculation, orderly management, foresight, in short, common sense--yes, -even in loading a cart with stones, there are a thousand ways of going -about it and only one right way. One man will take too many on his -shovel, another not enough; one lifts his arm too high and throws the -stones over the cart, another doesn't lift it high enough and throws -them among the wheels. Have you never compared one thing with another -and reflected, as you watched the simple work of the fields? Have you -seen men digging? In that, as in everything else, there is one good -workman to twenty bunglers. And who can say that the man who does as -much work with the spade as four others, without tiring himself out and -without losing a second, is not a superior man, who would do more -difficult things admirably? Tell me, what do you think about it? For my -part, I have always had that thought in my mind, and by watching the -girls picking strawberries on the mountain, I can pick out the one who -will best manage her house and bring up her children someday. Do you -think I am talking nonsense? Answer me." - -"I think that you are right, father," Michel replied, with a smile; "to -work quickly and well, one must combine presence of mind with an ardent -will; he must have fever in his blood and a clear head. He must be able -to think and act simultaneously. No, that power certainly is not given -to everyone; and it is a painful thing to see so many feeble and -incompetent organizations in proportion to the small number of placid -and powerful ones. Alas! I am alarmed for myself, notwithstanding the -praise you have just given me, for I rarely feel in that powerful and -productive humor, and if I was in that humor just now, I owe it to your -example." - -"No, no, Michel, no example is of any use to the impotent. Poor -creatures! they do what they can, and that is an excellent reason why -those who are stronger and more capable should make it their duty to -relieve them. Do you not feel glad and proud to have done it?" - -"You are right, father! you can find the noble and praiseworthy aspect -of my instincts better than I can myself. Ah! Pier-Angelo, you do not -know how to read, and you have had me taught a thousand things that you -do not know. And yet you are the light of my mind, and, at every step I -take, I feel that you are helping to open a blind man's eyes." - -"That is well said!" cried honest Pier-Angelo, with artless joy. "I wish -that could be written down. It reminded me of when the actors recite -noble sentences on the stage. Let us see, how did you say it? repeat it -for me. You called me by my name, as if I were not here, and you were -thinking aloud of your old friend. Oh! I love fine words, that I do! -_Pier-Angelo, you do not know how to write_--you began so. And then you -compared yourself to a blind man whose light I was--I, a poor ignorant -fellow, whose heart sees clear for you, Michel, none the less. I wish I -could write poetry in pure Tuscan; but I only know how to improvise in -my Sicilian dialect, in which, provided you rhyme in _i_ and _u_ you can -always succeed in producing something that resembles poetry. If I could -I would write a beautiful ballad about the love and modesty of a son who -attributes to his old simpleton of a father all that he discovers about -himself; a ballad! there is nothing in the world more perfect than a -good ballad. I know a great many of them, but there are very few with -which I am perfectly satisfied. I would like to be able to supply -something that is lacking in them all. That reminds me that I shall have -to sing to-night at supper. Hum! after swallowing such a lot of dust! -but there will be plenty of good wine for the workmen to drink. Don't -you mean to come? Evidently you don't like to drink with everybody. -Perhaps you are right. They say that you are proud; but, on the other -hand, you are sober and dignified. You must do what suits you. After -all, it's of no use for you to talk, you will never be a simple mechanic -like me, whatever you may do. You help me at my work now, and that is -well done. But once our little debts are paid, you will return to Rome, -for I propose that you shall continue the noble studies that attract you -so." - -"Ah! father, every word you say goes to my heart. Our little debts! it -was I who contracted them, not only for useful studies, but for foolish -diversions and insane, childish vanities. And when I think that each -year I pass at Rome costs you the whole avails of your toil!" - -"Even so! for whom should I earn money, if not for my son?" - -"But you rob yourself!" - -"Of nothing at all. I find friendship and confidence wherever I am -employed; and except a little good wine, which is an old man's milk, and -which is neither scarce nor dear in our blessed climate, thank God! I -need nothing. What does a man of my age require? Must I think of the -future? Your sister is industrious; she will find a good husband. Is not -my present lot what my lot will be to my last hour? There is nothing new -for me to learn which I can put to any use. Why should I hoard money? to -hoard it for your maturer years would be absurd; it would simply be -depriving your youth of the means of developing and making sure of the -future." - -"Alas! it is the thought of your future that terrifies me, father! An -old man's future is loss of strength, infirmity, neglect, destitution! -And suppose all your sacrifices were wasted! Suppose I should prove to -be devoid of virtue, intelligence, courage, talent! Suppose I should not -succeed in making my fortune, in finding a good husband for my sister, -and in assuring your comfort and security in your old age!" - -"Nonsense! nonsense! it is insulting Providence to doubt yourself when -you are conscious of being disposed to do what is right. Besides, let us -put everything in the worst light, and you will see that nothing is -lost. I will assume that you are simply an ordinary artist; you will -still earn your living, and as you do not lack wit, you will know how to -be contented with such pleasures as are within your reach. You will do -like me, who, although I have never been rich, have never considered -myself poor, because my wants have never exceeded my resources. That is -a philosophy with which you are not familiar as yet, because you are at -the age of expansive desires and expansive hopes; but it will come to -you if your plans fail. Mind you, I do not admit that they can fail. -That is why I do not preach moderation to you now. Power is still -better. The man who aims true at the ring with his lance is drunk with -joy. He carries off the prize, and congratulates himself on having had -the courage to compete. But he who has broken several lances with no -result goes away saying: 'My luck is bad; I will not try again.' And he -too is pleased that he has profited by experience and has had the -courage to read himself a salutary lesson. But the evening breeze dries -the perspiration on my old forehead a little too quickly; I am going to -the pantry to eat and drink. As there is nothing more for you to do -here, you may as well get our tools together and go home." - -"And when will you come home, father?" - -"Ah! Michel, I don't know when or how! it will depend on how much I -enjoy the supper. You know that I am very sober, generally speaking, and -drink only to quench my thirst; but if they lead me on to laugh and -sing, and chatter, I get excited and have paroxysms of merriment and -poetic enthusiasm which carry me off to the moon; and then it's of no -use to talk to me about going to bed. Don't be anxious about me. I shall -not fall down in a corner, I am not a beastly sot; my drunkenness is -that of brilliant minds, on the contrary, and I never act more -reasonably than when I am a little mad; that is to say, I shall be at -work again here at daylight to-morrow, to assist in undoing all we have -done this week, and I shall be less tired than if I had passed the night -in my bed." - -"You must despise me for being unable to find in wine the superhuman -strength that it gives you!" - -"You have never cared to try!" cried the old man; and he added -instantly: "and you have done well! because at your age it is an -unnecessary stimulant. Ah! when I was young the lightest glance from a -woman would have given me more strength than the whole of the princess's -cellar would give me at this moment! Well, good-night, my boy." - -As he spoke, Pier-Angelo started up the wooden staircase he had helped -to put in place, for he and his son had been talking in the garden, -where he had thrown himself on the turf to recover his breath. Michel -detained him, and, instead of leaving him, said with inexplicable -emotion: - -"Father, are you entitled to remain at the ball after the invited guests -have arrived?" - -"Why, surely," replied Pier-Angelo, surprised by the young man's manner. -"Several of us were selected from each branch of trade, about a hundred -men in all, to see that nothing goes wrong during the festivity. In the -midst of so much commotion, a board may give way, or a piece of canvas -get loose and take fire from the candles; a thousand accidents always -have to be guarded against, and a certain number of tried arms always -kept in readiness to repair them. We may have nothing to do; and in that -case we shall pass the night merrily at table; but, whatever happens, we -are at hand. Moreover, we have the right to go everywhere, in order to -have an eye upon everything and to prevent fire, confusion, the bad -smell from the candles that go out, the fall of a picture, a chandelier, -a vase, heaven knows what! We are always wanted, and we make a circuit -of the rooms, turn and turn about, if for nothing more than to prevent -pickpockets from creeping in." - -"And you are paid to do this servant's work?" - -"We are paid if we choose. To those who do it purely from good-will the -princess always makes some acceptable present, and for old friends like -me she always has a pleasant word and some delicate little attention. -And then, even if it brought me in nothing, isn't it my duty to place my -foresight, my activity, and my loyalty at the service of a woman whom I -esteem as much as I esteem her? I have no need of her assistance as yet; -but I have seen how she helps those who get into difficulty, and I know -that she would dress my wounds with her own hands if I were wounded." - -"Yes, yes, I know all about that," rejoined Michel, gloomily; -"benevolence, charity, pity, alms-giving!" - -"Come, come! Master Pier-Angelo," said a valet, who passed them at that -moment, "it is time to change your clothes. Take off your apron, the -guests are arriving; go to the dressing-room, or to the buffet first, if -you like." - -"True," said Pier-Angelo, "we are a little untidy to rub elbows with -such beautiful gowns. Farewell, Michel, I am going to beautify myself. -Go home and rest." - -Michel glanced at his own clothes, which were soiled and torn in a -thousand places. His pride returned; he slowly descended the steps -leading to the main ball-room and walked across it, amid the resplendent -groups which were beginning to appear. A young man who entered as Michel -was going out jostled him roughly. Michel was on the point of flying -into a rage; but he restrained himself when he saw that the young man in -question was as distraught as he. - -He was a youth of some twenty-five years, of small stature and with a -most attractive face. And yet, both in his face and bearing there was -something peculiar which attracted Michel's attention, although he could -not explain to his own satisfaction why he should take an interest in -the stranger. It is certain, however, that there must have been -something unusual about him, for the door-keeper to whom he had handed -his card of admission glanced several times from him to the card and -from the card to him, as if he wished to make sure that it was all -right. He had not taken three steps into the room when other people -turned their eyes upon him as if by virtue of a contagious impulse, and -Michel, still standing by the door, heard a lady say to the gentleman -who escorted her: - -"Who is that man? I do not know him." - -"Nor do I," was the reply; "but what do you expect? In a company so -numerous as this is likely to be, do you fancy that you will not meet -many strange faces?" - -"Of course, I expect to," replied the lady, "and we shall see, in this -ball for which anyone can buy a ticket, a mixture that will amuse us. To -begin with, I am amused by this person who has just come in, and has -stopped short under the first chandelier, as if he were looking for his -road through this huge room. Just look at him! it is very curious; he's -a handsome fellow!" - -"Really, you are very much engrossed by that youth," said her escort, -who, whether lover or husband, knew Sicilian womankind by heart. And so, -instead of looking at the man to whom his attention was directed, he -looked behind, to see whether, while his attention was attracted in one -direction, someone on the other side did not hand her a note or exchange -a meaning glance with her. But, whether because she was really virtuous, -or by mere chance, she was sincere at that moment and looked at no one -but the stranger. - -Michel did not go away, and yet he had ceased to think of the reckless -youth who had jostled him; he had espied, at the end of the ball-room, a -white dress and a coronet of diamonds which twinkled like pale stars. He -had seen the princess only an instant, and there were many other women -at the ball in white dresses, many other diadems of precious stones. -However, he was not mistaken as to her identity, and he could not take -his eyes from her. - -The lady and gentleman who had noticed the arrival of the unknown young -man walked away, and Michel heard other voices at his side. - -"I have seen that face somewhere, I don't know where," said a lady. - -A pale, lovely young woman, who was walking with the last speaker, -exclaimed, in a tone which aroused Michel from his reverie: - -"Ah! great God! what a resemblance!" - -"Why! what is the matter, my dear?" - -"Nothing; a memory, a resemblance; but it is not the same----" - -"What are you talking about, pray?" - -"I will tell you later. First of all, look at that man." - -"That short young man? I certainly don't know him." - -"Nor do I; but he bears a most appalling resemblance to a man who----" - -Michel heard no more; the beautiful young woman had lowered her voice as -she walked on. - -Who could that man be who had just come in, and who already produced -such a marked sensation? Michel looked at him and saw that he was -retracing his steps as if he intended to go out; but he halted in front -of him and said in a voice as soft as a woman's: "My friend, will you be -kind enough to tell me which of all the ladies who are already here is -Princess Agatha de Palmarosa?" - -"I have no idea," replied Michel, impelled by an instinctive feeling of -distrust and jealousy. - -"Then you do not know her?" queried the stranger. - -"No, signor," replied Michel, dryly. - -The stranger entered the ball-room and plunged into the crowd, which was -rapidly increasing. Michel looked after him and observed something -peculiar in his carriage. Although he was dressed in the height of -fashion, and with an elaborateness which bordered on bad taste, he -seemed ill at ease in his clothes, like a man who had never before worn -a black coat and close-fitting breeches. And yet there was in his manner -a something haughty and distinguished which did not denote the petty -bourgeois in his Sunday garb. - -As Michel turned to go away at last, he saw that the halberdier who was -guarding the door was equally engrossed by the stranger's appearance. - -"I don't know," he was saying to Barbagallo, the majordomo, who had just -accosted him, apparently to question him; "I know a peasant who looks -like him, but it isn't the man." - -A third retainer came up and said: - -"That must be the Greek prince who arrived yesterday, or one of his -escort." - -"Or else some follower of the Egyptian envoy," said the halberdier. - -"Or else," added Barbagallo, "some Levantine merchant. When those people -leave off their native costume and dress in the European style, you -can't recognize them. Did he buy his ticket at the door? You mustn't -allow anybody to do that." - -"He had his ticket in his hand; I saw him present it all open, and the -door-keeper said: 'Her Highness's signature.'" - -Michel had not listened to this discussion; he was already well on his -way to Catania. - -He returned to his humble abode and sat down on his bed; but he forgot -to lie down. As he threw back his hair, the weight of which made his -forehead hot, he saw a small flower fall. It was a white cyclamen -blossom. How had it broken off and clung to his hair? There was no -reason for much surprise or uneasiness. The place where he had worked -and hustled about, gone hither and thither a thousand times, was so -thickly strewn with flowers of all sorts. - -But Michel did not remember that. He simply remembered the enormous -bouquet of cyclamen which the Princess of Palmarosa carried when he had -stooped tremblingly and kissed her hand. He put the flower to his lips; -it exhaled an intoxicating odor. He took his head in both hands. It -seemed to him that he was going mad. - - - - -IX - -MILA - - -The mental disturbance which our young painter experienced at that -moment was due to two causes, one an absurd sort of jealousy, which had -taken possession of him like an attack of fever, with respect to -Princess Agatha; the other, a feeling of disquiet, because he had failed -to obtain that noble person's approval of his paintings. Of course it -was not mere love of gain, the desire to be paid more or less -handsomely, which worked upon him thus. So long as he had been engrossed -by the fever of production, he had given very little thought to the -subject of the signora's personal opinion; he had thought only of -succeeding, of satisfying himself; then, having almost succeeded in his -own eyes, and having not as yet seen his mysterious patroness, he had -wondered, with more hope than alarm, whether he should find enough -enlightened judges in that province to establish his reputation upon an -undertaking of that sort. In short, he had had so much to do up to the -last moment that he had not had time to analyze his anxiety. - -When he was quite alone, he found that he was strangely disturbed by the -knowledge that people were passing judgment on his work, and that he -could not be there. What prevented him? No orders related to his humble -position in society, but a poignant false shame, which he did not feel -the strength to overcome. - -And yet Michel was not cowardly, either as a man or as an artist. -Despite his youth he had already reflected deeply concerning his future -prospects, and he had already reviewed concisely enough the list of -successes and reverses connected with his destiny. Feeling that he was -seized with faint-heartedness at the outset, he was surprised, and tried -to fight against himself. But the more he questioned himself, the more -fully he recognized his weakness, but would not avow its cause. -Therefore we will give the reader that information. - -At the bottom of this depression and alarm there lay a feeling of -uncertainty as to the opinion the princess had formed concerning him. -Pier-Angelo had told him that morning that during Sunday her highness -had inspected the ball-room; but that, as he was not present, he did not -know what she had said. Master Barbagallo, being in ill-humor because of -the numerous vexations attendant upon the fête, had spoken very coldly -to him on the subject, but had not said that the princess seemed -dissatisfied or that she criticised anything. Whereupon honest -Pier-Angelo had added, with his usual confidence: "Never fear, she knows -what is what. It is impossible that she should not be satisfied beyond -what she expected." Michel had surrendered to that confidence without -paying much heed to the question whether it was justified. He had said -to himself that, even if the princess were not a connoisseur, there -would soon be enough connoisseurs about her to guide her judgment. - -Moreover, he was afraid of everybody now because he was afraid of the -princess. She had looked at him in a way that had completely upset him; -but she had said nothing to him; not a word of praise or encouragement -had accompanied that glance, which was more than kind, it is true, but -for that very reason incomprehensible. And suppose he had been mistaken -touching the expression of her face! suppose that, when she thus fixed -her lovely, joy-laden eyes upon him, she was thinking of some entirely -different person--her lover, perhaps, for she must have a lover, -whatever Magnani might say! - -At the bare idea Michel felt faint and sick; he fancied that he saw the -princess leaning on the arm of the fortunate mortal for whose sake she -pretended to entertain no thought of marriage. They were glancing -absently at the young painter's work, and smiling as they looked into -each other's eyes, as if to say: - -"What does it matter to us? nothing is beautiful, nothing exists for us, -except ourselves." - -Weary of suffering so entirely without reason, Michel thought to conquer -and tranquillize himself by adopting a superb resolution. - -"I will go to bed," he said to himself, "and sleep like a prince, like a -hero, while people are criticising me, disputing and perhaps getting -excited about me in yonder palace. To-morrow morning, father will come -and wake me, and tell me whether I have won the laurel wreath or have -been hissed. What does it matter to me, after all?" - -It mattered so little to him, in very truth, that, instead of -undressing, he dressed to go to the ball. In a most extraordinary fit of -abstraction, he arranged his beautiful hair, which would have been a bit -too long for a strictly fashionable patrician, but which formed a -beautiful frame for his intelligent and impassioned face. He removed -with the greatest care all traces of toil; he donned his finest linen -and his best clothes; and when he had glanced at his little mirror, he -decided, and with good reason, that no guest at the princess's ball -would present a more distinguished figure than he. - -Having thus prepared for bed, he left the house, and when he had taken -ten steps out of doors, he discovered that an inexplicable preoccupation -was leading him in the direction of the Palmarosa palace. Indignant with -himself, he returned, took off his coat, tossed it on the bed, opened -his window and sat beside it, torn between the heroic determination to -retire and the irresistible temptation to go and witness the fête. - -The countless lights of the palace twinkled before his eyes, the notes -of the orchestra reached his ears through the echoing night. Carriages -were rolling in all directions; no one was asleep in the city or the -outlying country. Indeed, it was not nine o'clock, and Michel felt -little inclined to sleep. He closed his window and started to take up a -book; but the cyclamen, which he had tossed upon the table in an -outburst of anger against himself, was the only object within his reach. - -Thereupon it seemed to him that, through the delicate and penetrating -odor of musk exhaled by the pink-tipped petals of that pretty little -flower, he saw palpable images take shape and gather about him. Women, -lights, flowers, gushing waters, diamonds with a bluish gleam; and with -the things which seemed real, fanciful things were mingled as in a -dream. Lovely dancing-girls of antique times, whom Michel had painted on -the ceiling, stood forth gracefully from the canvas, and, raising their -azure and purple tunics above their knees, glided through the crowd, and -cast upon him as they passed lewd glances and mysterious smiles. Drunk -with desire, he followed them, and lost them, and found them again, -seizing one by her floating girdle, another by her transparent _peplum_, -but exhausting himself in vain efforts, in vain entreaties, to detain -them and give them substance. - -Then a white female passed slowly and took sole possession of his -vagrant passion. She stopped in front of him and gazed at him, at first -with stony eyes, which gradually became animated and ended by flashing -flames, whereby he felt that he was being consumed. Lying motionless at -her feet, he saw her stoop over him. He fancied that he felt her breath -upon his brow; but instantly the giddy band of Latin harlots entangled -him in a network of multi-colored tunics and whirled him upward toward -the ceiling. Then he found himself alone on his ladder, smeared with -paint, covered with dirt, exhausted, gasping for breath, in a ghastly -solitude, dimly lighted by a vague gleam of daylight. Silence hovered -over the cold, deserted rooms; naught remained of his vision save a -little broken flower, whose fragrance he had exhausted by inhaling it. - -This hallucination became so painful that Michel, in terror, pushed the -cyclamen away once more, thinking that there must be something soporific -or poisonous in its exhalations. But he could not make up his mind to -destroy it. He placed it in a glass of water and opened his window -again. - -"Why suffer thus without reason and without any object?" he said to -himself; "is it a woman's glance, or the distant view of a great fête, -that makes my disordered imagination run riot thus? Very well! if the -mad creature is untamable, let her have her way; doubtless the spectacle -of what really is will either extinguish her frenzy or furnish it with -fresh food. I shall either become calm, or suffer in some new way; what -does it matter!" - -"What is the trouble, that you are talking to yourself so, Michel?" said -a soft voice, while at the same time the door of his little chamber -opened behind him. And Michel, turning his head, saw his little sister -Mila, who approached him on tiptoe, with bare feet and her body wrapped -in a _piddemia_--a brown cloak worn by the women of the people. - -No one in the world was so pretty, so sweet, and so lovable as Mila. -Michel had always loved her dearly. And yet her appearance at that -moment caused him some vexation. - -"What are you doing here, little one?" he said; "why aren't you asleep?" - -"Asleep already!" she said, "when I hear carriages rumbling through the -streets and see the princess's palace shining yonder like a star? Oh! I -cannot sleep! Our father made me promise to go to bed as usual, and not -to go running about the palace with the other girls, to try to look at -the fête through the open doors. So I went to bed, and although those -violins, which you can hear from here, made my heart beat time, I was -determined to go to sleep, when my friend Nenna came and asked me to go -with her." - -"And you mean to go, Mila? to disobey your father? to loiter about that -house, which is all surrounded by servants, beggars and vagabonds, with -a hare-brained creature like Nenna? You shall not do it, I forbid you!" - -"Oh! you needn't put on those high and mighty paternal airs, my dear -brother," retorted Mila, in an offended tone. "Do you suppose I am mad -enough to listen to Nenna? I sent her away; she is a long way from here, -and I was going to sleep again when I heard you walking about and -talking. I thought father was with you; but I saw through the crack of -the door that you were alone, and then ----" - -"Then you came in here to chatter, in order to avoid going to sleep, -eh?" - -"It is true that I have no desire to go to bed so early, and father -didn't forbid me to listen and look on from a distance at what is going -on up there! Oh! how beautiful it must be! You can see much better from -your window than from mine, Michel; do let me feast my eyes on that -beautiful bright light!" - -"No, little one. The wind is cool to-night, and you have almost no -clothes on. I am going to shut the window and go to bed. Go and do the -same; good-night." - -"You are going to bed; and have just dressed yourself! what did you do -it for, pray? Michel, you are deceiving me, you are going to see the -ball, you are going in! I will bet that you are invited, and that you -won't tell me so!" - -"Invited! they don't invite people like us to such grand affairs, my -poor dear! When we enter that palace, we go as workmen, not as friends." - -"What difference does that make, so long as you're there? Then you are -going? Oh! how I would like to be in your place!" - -"Why, what is the meaning of this frantic desire to see this fête?" - -"To see what is beautiful, Michel, isn't that all? When you draw a -beautiful figure, I take more pleasure in looking at it, perhaps, than -you do who drew it." - -"But if you were there, it would be on condition that you were hidden in -some hole, for if they saw you, they would turn you out; you could not -even show yourself, much less dance!" - -"Very true; but I should see the others dance, and that would be much." - -"You are a child. Good-night." - -"I see that you aren't willing to take me!" - -"No, surely not; I can't. They would turn you out, and I should have to -break the head of some insolent lackey for insulting you when you were -on my arm." - -"What! isn't there some little corner no bigger than your hand, where I -could hide? I am so small! Look, Michel, I could get into your cupboard. -Anyway, you could take me to the door without taking me in, and father -would not be angry to know that I was there with you." - -Michel preached a beautiful sermon to Mila on the subject of childish -curiosity, and the violent instinctive longing which she felt to -intoxicate herself with the spectacle of patrician grandeur. He forgot -that he was consumed by the same longing, and that he was anxious to be -alone so that he might give way to it. - -Mila listened to reason when Michel told her that he was going to assist -his father to overlook the decorations of the ball; but she heaved a -deep sigh, none the less. - -"Well," she said, tearing herself away from the window, "it's no use to -think any more about it. However, it's my own fault; for if I had had -any idea that I should be so wild to go, I could very easily have asked -the princess to invite me." - -"Now you are going mad again, just as I thought you were becoming -reasonable, Mila! As if the princess could have invited you, even if she -had taken it into her head to do it!" - -"Why, of course she could; isn't she the mistress of her own house?" - -"Even so! what would all those ancient dowagers, all those august -blockheads say, if they should see little Mila, with her velvet jacket -and striped skirt, dancing about among their noble dolls of daughters?" - -"Let me tell you, that I might perhaps cut a better figure than all of -them, young and old!" - -"That is no reason." - -"I know that; but the princess is a queen in her house, and I will bet -that she will invite me to the first ball she chooses to give." - -"You will ask her to, I suppose?" - -"To be sure! I know her, and she is very fond of me; she is a friend of -mine." - -As she said this, Mila drew herself up and assumed an air of importance, -so comical and so fascinating that Michel laughed and kissed her. - -"I like to see, Mila," he said, "that you have no suspicion of anything. -And why should I deceive you? You will lose soon enough the trustful -illusions of your age of gold! But, since you know this beautiful -princess so well, pray tell me something about her, my dear little -sister; tell me how it happens that you are so intimately acquainted -with her, without my knowing anything about it?" - -"Aha! Michel, you are curious to know that, now! But since you have -shown so little eagerness to question me, you will kindly wait a little -longer, until it pleases me to answer you." - -"So it's a secret, is it?" - -"Perhaps! what do you care?" - -"I care very little, in truth, to know anything whatsoever concerning -this princess. She has a fine palace, I work there, she pays me, and I -care little about anything else for the moment. But nothing that -interests my little Mila can be indifferent to me, nor should it be -hidden from me, in my opinion." - -"Now you are flattering me to make me speak. Well, I will not speak, -there! But I will show you something that will make you open your eyes. -See, what do you say to this pretty thing?" - -And Mila took from her bosom a locket surrounded by large diamonds. - -"They are fine stones," she said, "and worth I don't know how much -money. Enough to provide me with a marriage portion if I chose to sell -them; but I will never part with them, because they came from my best -friend." - -"And that friend is the Princess of Palmarosa?" - -"Yes, Agatha Palmarosa; don't you see her cipher engraved on the gold of -the locket?" - -"Yes, that is true! But what is there inside this priceless trinket?" - -"Hair, lovely light chestnut hair, with a touch of gold, naturally -curly, and so fine!" said the girl, opening the locket. "Isn't it soft -and glossy?" - -"That isn't the princess's, for hers is black." - -"So you have seen her, after all?" - -"Yes, I just caught a glimpse of her. But tell me, Mila, whose hair you -wear against your heart, and in such a valuable locket?" - -"How inquisitive you are! you are blind and dull, too, like all -inquisitive people. Don't you recognize it? Don't you remember where I -got it?" - -"No, indeed, I do not." - -"Well, put it against yours and you will recognize it, although your -head has grown a little darker in a year." - -"Dear little sister! yes, I do remember now that you cut it from my head -the day you left Rome--and you have kept it all this time!" - -"I used to carry it in a little black bag. My friend Agatha asked of -what saint I carried a relic in my scapulary, and when I told her that -it was my darling and only brother's hair, she took it and said she -would send it back to me the next day; and the next day she sent me by -father this lovely locket filled with your hair. However, some of it was -missing. The jeweller who put it inside either stole it or lost it." - -"Lost it, that may be," said Michel, with a smile; "but as for stealing -it! This hair has no value to anyone but you, Mila!" - - - - -X - -PROBLEM - - -"But, after all, what is the source of this friendship of the princess -for you," continued Michel, after a pause; "what have you ever done for -her that she should make you such presents?" - -"Nothing at all. Father, who is on excellent terms with her, took me to -the palace one day to present me to her. She took a fancy to me; she -paid me all sorts of attentions; she asked me for my friendship, and I -promised it and gave it to her at once. I passed the day all alone with -her, walking about her villa and the gardens. Since then I go there when -I choose, and I am always sure of being well received." - -"And you go often?" - -"I have never been but twice, for it isn't long since I first knew her. -I know that the palace has been turned upside down this last week by the -preparations for the ball, and I was afraid of being in poor Agatha's -way when, of course, she had a thousand things to do. But I shall go in -two or three days." - -"So that is the whole of the mystery, is it? Why did you need so much -urging to tell it?" - -"Oh! because the princess said to me when I came away: 'Mila, please -don't tell anyone about the delightful day we have passed together and -the friendship we have formed. I have my reasons for asking you to keep -it secret. You shall know them later, and I know that I can rely on your -promise if you will give it to me.'--As you can imagine, Michel, I did -not refuse it." - -"Very good; but you are breaking your word now." - -"No, I am not. You are not _anybody_ to me, and, of course, the princess -didn't suppose I would have any secrets from my father or my brother." - -"Does my father know all this, then?" - -"Certainly, I told him about it at once." - -"And he was neither surprised nor disturbed by this whim of the -princess?" - -"Why surprised, please? It is your surprise that is very strange and a -little impertinent, Michel. Am I not capable of inspiring friendship, -even in a princess? And why disturbed? Is not friendship a good and -pleasant thing?" - -"Still, my child, I am, if not disturbed, at all events astonished at -this friendship. Tell me this, which may explain it in some measure. Has -our father rendered Princess Agatha some great service?" - -"He has done much beautiful decorating in the palace. He has made some -superb foliage in the dining-room among other things." - -"I have seen all that; but he is well paid. The princess has taken a -liking to him because of his zeal and disinterestedness, I suppose?" - -"Yes, that must be it. Isn't it true that anybody who knows father for a -little time loves him?" - -"That is so. Then it is because of our excellent father that you arouse -so much interest in this great lady!" - -"Oh! Michel, she isn't a great lady, I tell you! she's a good woman, a -kind, lovely woman." - -"And what could she find to say to you, my child, for a whole day?" - -"She asked me a thousand questions, about myself and father and you, -about our life in Rome, your occupations, our home life and our tastes. -I really believe that she made me tell our whole history day by day, -ever since I was born; I talked so much that I was tired out that -evening." - -"It seems that this lady is terribly inquisitive; for what does it all -matter to her?" - -"Now you mention it, I believe that she is a little inquisitive; but it -is a pleasure to answer her questions; she listens to you with so much -interest, and she is so pleasant! Come, don't speak ill of her, or I -shall be angry with you!" - -"Very well, let us say no more about her; God forbid that I should teach -you distrust and dread, my lovely angel heart! Go to bed, now; father is -waiting for me. To-morrow we will talk again of your adventure, for -surely this great friendship with a beautiful princess is a marvellous -adventure in a life like yours--although she no more thinks of you now -than of the last pair of slippers she wore. No matter! don't put on that -injured air. It may be that, some day when she is lonely and idle, the -Princess of Palmarosa will send for you, to be entertained again by your -prattle." - -"You don't know what you are saying, Michel. The princess is not idle, -and if you insist upon taking it this way, I will tell you that, -kind-hearted as she is, she has the reputation of being decidedly cold -with people of our station. Some say that she is proud, others that she -is timid. The fact is that she always speaks pleasantly and courteously -to the workmen and servants who come in contact with her, but that she -speaks to them so little, so little!--that she is noted for it, and that -some people who have worked for her for years have never known the sound -of her voice and have hardly seen her in her own house. So that her -friendship for father and me is no commonplace thing; it is genuine -friendship, and your mockery will never prevent me from relying upon it. -Good-night, Michel; I am not very well pleased with you to-night; I -never saw you with this sarcastic air before. You talk as if you meant -to say that I am only a little girl and no one can love me!" - -"That is not my thought, so far as I myself am concerned, at all events! -for, little slip of a girl as you are, I adore you!" - -"What did you say, brother? You adore me? that is a lovely word. Kiss -me." - -The child threw herself into his arms. Michel embraced her lovingly, and -as she laid her lovely brown head on his shoulder, he kissed the long -hair that fell over the girl's half uncovered back. - -But suddenly he pushed her away with a painful shudder. All the burning -thoughts that had excited his brain an hour earlier recurred to his mind -with the vividness of remorse, and it seemed to him that his lips were -no longer pure enough to bless his little sister. - -He was no sooner alone than he rushed through the door of the old house -in which he lived, without pausing to close that of his room. To tell -the truth, he paid no heed to the distance he travelled, and, still -haunted by his dreams, he fancied that he stepped directly from the -landing of his attic to the marble peristyle of the villa. And yet it -was nearly a mile from the last houses of the suburb of Catania to the -gateway of the palace. - -The first face upon which his eyes fell as he was about to enter the -ball-room was that of the stranger to whom his attention had been -attracted as he went away. The young man was walking slowly from the -room, wiping his forehead with a handkerchief trimmed with lace. Michel, -puzzled by his conduct, and wondering if it were not a woman in -disguise, resolutely accosted him. - -"Well, my friend," he said, "did you succeed in seeing Princess Agatha?" - -The stranger, who seemed absorbed by his thoughts, raised his head -abruptly, and darted at Michel a glance instinct with such inexplicable -distrust, and even malevolence, that the young painter felt a sort of -cold shiver run down his back. It was not the glance of a woman, but of -a forceful and hot-tempered man. The feeling of hostility is unfamiliar -to youthful hearts, and Michel's contracted as with a sudden pang. It -seemed to him that the stranger instinctively felt for a knife in his -gold embroidered satin waistcoat, and he followed his movements with -surprise. - -"How does it happen?" said the other, in the same soft voice, in marked -contrast to his angry, threatening manner, "that you were a mechanic a -short time ago, and that now you are a gentleman?" - -"The fact is that I am neither one nor the other," replied Michel, with -a smile; "I am an artist employed in the palace. Do you feel more at -ease? my question seems to have disturbed you greatly. However, one -question deserves another. Did you not ask me one without knowing me?" - -"Do you mean to jest, signor?" retorted the stranger, who spoke in -excellent Italian, without any accent to justify the Greek or Egyptian -antecedents suggested by Barbagallo. - -"Not in the least," replied Michel, "and, as for my accosting you, pray -pardon an impulsive exhibition of curiosity entirely free from -malevolent intention." - -"Curiosity! why curiosity?" rejoined the unknown, clenching his teeth -and crowding his words together in peculiarly Sicilian fashion. - -"Faith! I have no idea," replied Michel. "We have had enough discussion -over a thoughtless word; I had no purpose of offending you. If your -displeasure continues, do not look about for pretexts to begin a -quarrel, for I have no intention of avoiding it." - -"Are not you the one who seeks to quarrel with me?" rejoined the -stranger, with a glance more threatening than the first. - -"On my word, signor, you are mad," said Michel, with a shrug. - -"You are right," retorted the unknown, "for I stand here listening to -the idle talk of a fool." - -The words had no sooner passed his lips than Michel rushed at him with a -sudden determination to strike him. But, fearing lest he might strike a -woman, for the stranger's sex still seemed to him very doubtful, he -paused; and he congratulated himself when he saw that problematical -personage turn upon his heel and vanish so quickly that Michel could not -determine in what direction he had gone, and concluded that he had been -dreaming again. - -"Surely I am beset by phantoms to-night," he said to himself. But as -soon as he found himself in presence of real mortals, he recovered the -notion of reality. He was asked for his card of admission. He gave his -name. - -"Ah! Michel," said the door-keeper, "I did not know you. How fine you -are! You look like an invited guest. Go in, my boy, and pay close -attention to the lights. The pretty stuff that you have hung over our -heads would take fire so quickly! It seems that you are coming in for a -deal of praise. Everybody says that the figures are done by a master -hand." - -Michel was offended at being addressed thus familiarly by a servant, -offended at being assigned to the duties of fireman, and secretly -delighted nevertheless at having obtained a triumph which was already -the talk of the antechamber. - -He glided into the crowd, hoping to pass through unnoticed and to reach -some secluded corner where he could see and hear at his ease; but there -were so many people in the great ball-room that they brushed against one -another and trod on one another's feet. He was carried to the other end -of the vast structure before he realized the impetus that the compact -mass had imparted to him; and thus he arrived at the foot of the great -staircase. Not until then was he able to stop, gasping for breath, and -open his eyes, nostrils, ears, and mind, to the enchanting spectacle of -the fête. - -Being somewhat above the flower-bedecked benches, he could see at a -glance both the dances in progress about the fountains, and the -spectators who jostled and squeezed one another to watch the dances. The -noise and glare and commotion were well adapted to dazzle and bewilder -a more mature brain than Michel's. What an array of lovely women, -marvellous jewels, white shoulders and resplendent head-dresses! What -majestic or alluring charms! What merriment, feigned or genuine! What -airs of languor, counterfeited or ill dissembled! - -Michel was intoxicated for an instant; but when his eyes began to see -more clearly and to separate the countless details of the scene,--when -he asked himself which of all those women would be, in his mind, an -ideal model,--he looked up at the ideal figures he had painted in the -ceiling, and was better satisfied, vain-glorious youth, with his own -work than with God's. - -He had dreamed of perfect beauty. He believed that he had found it in -the creations of his brush. He was probably mistaken; for it is -impossible to create a divine image without giving it human features, -and nothing on earth is blessed with absolute perfection. However that -may have been, Michel, still faltering and awkward in his art in several -respects, had approached as nearly as possible to perfect beauty in his -types. That was what impressed all those who examined his work; above -all, that was what impressed him when he sought among real persons the -personification of his ideas. Among the whole number he saw only two or -three women who seemed truly beautiful, and even those two or three he -would have liked to hold against his canvas, in order to take away from -one or give to another a certain outline or a certain coloring, wherein -they seemed to him to lack fullness or purity. - -He was perfectly cool,--cool as an artist analyzing a figure,--and he -realized that the human countenance made up for its shortcomings in the -way of perfection of feature solely by the expression of life. - -"I have drawn more beautiful faces," he said to himself, "but they are -not true. They do not think, they do not breathe, they do not love. It -would be better that they should be less beautiful and more animate. -When I roll up these canvases to-morrow, I will destroy them all, and -then I will change them, and, it may be, overturn all the ideas which -have guided me hitherto." - -And he abandoned the quest for ideal perfection of form among the living -dancers whom he was studying, to watch their movements, their grace, the -attitudes of the body, the expression of the glance and smile; in a -word, the secret of life. - -Enchanted at first, he felt that he grew cold once more as he analyzed -each being by itself. In all probability there are many ingenuous souls -among women and among men; but there are very few ingenuous faces to be -found at a ball in fashionable society. People there assume expressions -which are almost always at variance with their characters, whether they -are seeking to attract or to shun attention. Michel fancied that he -could see that some were hypocritically concealing their vanity, while -others arrogantly flaunted it; that this girl, who desired to seem -amorous, was cold and blasé; that the gayety of that other was dismal, -and the melancholy of a third a pretence. A parvenu strove to assume the -air of a man of noble birth; a noble strove to adopt the bearing of a -man of the people. Everybody posed more or less. The most humble tried -to seem self-possessed, and even touching timidity struggled to avoid -the awkwardness which triumphed over its efforts. - -Michel saw several young mechanics of his acquaintance pass. They were -performing the duties which they had undertaken, and they attracted -attention by their manly appearance and by a touch of picturesqueness in -their holiday attire. The majordomo had evidently selected them from -among the most _presentable_, and they were well aware of it; for they, -too, posed artlessly: one put forward each shoulder in turn to display -its enormous breadth; another made the most of every inch of his great -stature as he passed many a diminutive great personage; a third elevated -the arch of his eyebrows to show the fair dames an eye as bright as a -carbuncle. - -Michel was surprised to see those honest fellows transform themselves -so, and sacrifice the advantages of their natural dignity or their -attractive exterior by an affectation, perhaps involuntary, but -certainly ridiculous.--"I knew," he thought, "that all men eagerly -sought approbation, to whatever class or profession they might belong. -But why does this craving to attract attention suddenly deprive us of -the charm or the dignity of our manners? Can it be that the desire is -over-eager, or that the object is contemptible? Must beauty necessarily -be unconscious of itself in order to lose nothing of its splendor? Or am -I alone endowed with this intolerable clearness of vision? Where is the -intense enjoyment that I expected to find here? Instead of following -with interest the actions of other people, I am exerting myself to pass -judgment in cold blood on everything that meets my eye, and to deprive -myself of any external enjoyment!" - -By dint of watching so closely and making so many comparisons, Michel -had forgotten the main object of his presence at the ball. He remembered -at last that he was especially desirous to study calmly a certain -figure, and he was about to ascend the great staircase and wander about -the interior of the palace, where all the rooms were open and lighted, -When, happening to turn his head, he saw close at hand a detail of the -decorations of which he had forgotten to observe the effect. - -It was a rockwork grotto, which formed a recess of considerable size -under the staircase. He had himself decorated with shellwork, branches -of coral and picturesque plants, that cool retreat, at the farther end -of which an alabaster naiad poured water from her urn into a huge shell, -always brimming full of clear running water. - -The taste Michel had displayed in all the details entrusted to him had -induced the majordomo to allow him to arrange many things as he chose; -and as this naiad had impressed him as a charming creation, he had taken -pleasure in placing in her grotto the prettiest vases, the daintiest -garlands and the finest rugs. He had spent a full hour surrounding the -mother-of-pearl shell with a border of moss, as fine and soft as velvet, -in selecting and arranging in graceful and charming disorder bunches of -iris and water-lilies, and those long ribbon-like leaves which harmonize -so perfectly with the undulating movement of running water. - -Now the grotto was lighted by a pale light concealed behind the foliage; -and as everybody was intent upon watching the dance, the entrance was -unobstructed. Michel entered stealthily; but he had not taken three -steps when he saw a person seated, or rather reclining, in the -half-light, at the naiad's feet. He hastily concealed himself behind a -jutting rock, and was about to retire; but an irresistible fascination -detained him. - - - - -XI - -THE GROTTO OF THE NAIAD - - -Princess Agatha was reclining on a divan of dark velvet, where her -graceful and noble figure resembled a ghost in the moonlight. Michel -could see her profile in the dim light, and the reflection of the -candles behind her outlined with admirable distinctness features as -delicate and pure as a young maid's. Her long full white gown assumed -all the shades of the opal in that soft light, and the diamonds in her -coronet shot flames of changing hue, now like the sapphire and again -like the emerald. Michel lost altogether the idea that he had formed of -her age when he first saw her. It seemed to him that she was a child, -and when he remembered that he had believed her to be above thirty, he -asked himself whether she was thus transfigured by a celestial radiance -or by a gleam from hell, wherewith she was able, like a sorceress, to -envelop herself in order to deceive the senses. - -She seemed fatigued and depressed. But her attitude was modest and her -expression serene. She was inhaling the perfume of her bouquet of -cyclamen and playing idly with her fan. Michel gazed at her a long time -before he heard, or, at least, attached a meaning to the words she was -saying. She seemed to him lovelier than any of the beauties he had been -scrutinizing so closely, and he could not understand the unmixed, -boundless admiration which she aroused in him. He strove in vain to -examine her features in detail and analyze her charms; he could not -succeed. She seemed to be floating in a magic fluid which protected her -from being studied like other women. From time to time, thinking that he -understood her, he closed his eyes and tried to sketch her portrait in -his memory, to draw her in imagination, in strokes of flame, on the -black veil which he spread before his own eyes by lowering his lids. But -he saw naught but confused lines, and could not conjure up any distinct -face. He was compelled to reopen his eyes in haste and gaze at her with -anxiety, with intense delight, and above all, with surprise. - -For there was a something indescribable about her. She was perfectly -natural; of all the women Michel had seen, she alone seemed to have no -thought of herself; she had assumed no studied air or manner; she did -not know, or did not choose to know, what people thought of her, what -they felt as they looked at her; she had the tranquillity of a mind -disassociated from all human things, and the entire freedom from -constraint that she might have had in absolute solitude. - -And yet she was arrayed like a genuine princess; she was giving a ball, -she displayed her magnificence, she played her rôle of a great lady and -of a woman of the world, like any other, to all appearance. Why then -that madonna-like air, that inward meditation, or that rapt -contemplation of a soul above human vanities? - -She was a living enigma to the young artist's restless imagination. -Something still more strange perplexed him beyond measure; and that was -that it seemed to him that he had not seen her that day for the first -time. - -Where could he have seen her before? In vain did he rack his memory. -When he arrived at Catania her very name was strange to him. A person of -such exalted rank, and so remarkable by reason of her wealth, her -beauty, and her reputation for virtue, could not have come to Rome -_incognito_. Michel cudgelled his brain. He could recall no occasion -when he could have seen her; especially as when he looked at her, he had -a feeling, not that he had known her slightly, but that he had known her -intimately and for a long time, ever since he was born. - -When he had exhausted his memory, he said to himself that there must be -some abstract reason for that sensation. It must be due to the fact that -she was the ideal type of beauty of which he had always dreamed, but -which he had never been able to grasp and produce. That was a poetic -commonplace. He was fain to be content with it for lack of a better. - -But the princess was not alone, for she was talking; and Michel soon -discovered that she was tête-à-tête with a man. That was certainly a -reason to impel him to withdraw, but it was difficult to do so. To -preserve the mysterious obscurity of the grotto and exclude the -brilliant light of the ball-room, the entrance had been masked by a -heavy blue velvet curtain, which our inquisitive hero, by the merest -chance, had drawn aside a little way when he entered, without attracting -the attention of the two persons who were talking there. The entrance to -the grotto being only half as wide as the grotto itself, formed a frame, -not of artificial rocks, as would have been the case with us, in our -imitations of _rococo_, but of genuine blocks of lava, vitrified, and of -divers shades of color, curious and valuable specimens collected long -before in the very crater of the volcano to be set like jewels in the -masonry. This beautiful door-frame protruded far enough into the grotto -to conceal Michel, who was able to see because of its uneven surface. -But, in order to go out, he must raise the curtain again, and he could -hardly hope that both the princess and her companion would be -sufficiently engrossed not to notice him. - -Michel thought of all this too late to avert the consequences of his -imprudence. It was too late for him to go out naturally, as he had -entered. Moreover he was nailed to his place by the most intense -curiosity and anxiety. Doubtless that man was the princess's lover. - -He was a man of about thirty-five years, tall, and with a grave, sweet -face, wonderfully handsome and regular. In his manner, as he sat facing -Agatha at a distance, which indicated something betwixt respect and -intimacy, there was nothing to criticise; but when Michel had recovered -his presence of mind sufficiently to listen to the words that fell upon -his ears, he fancied that he could detect an indication of mutual -affection in this observation of the princess: - -"Thank heaven it has not yet occurred to anyone to raise the curtain and -discover this delightful retreat; although I might naturally take some -pride in bringing my guests here,--for it is beautifully decorated -to-night,--I would like to pass the night here all alone, or with you, -marquis, while the fête and the dancing and the tumult run their course -behind the curtain." - -The marquis replied, in a tone which did not indicate a presumptuous -man: - -"You should have had the grotto closed altogether by a door to which you -alone had a key, and have transformed it into a private salon, whither -you could come from time to time to obtain some repose from the heat, -the glare and the compliments. You are not accustomed to society now, -and you were over-confident of your strength. You will be terribly tired -to-morrow." - -"I am already; but it was not the crowd and the noise that broke me down -so in an instant." - -"I understand that, my dear friend," said the marquis, pressing Agatha's -hand fraternally in his. "Try to think of something else, at least for a -few hours, so that your preoccupation may not be manifest; for you -cannot escape people's eyes, and, outside of this grotto, you have not -left yourself a single corner of your whole palace where you can take -refuge without running the gauntlet of obsequious salutations, -inquisitive glances--" - -"And trite remarks with which I am already sated," added the princess, -struggling to smile. "How can anyone be fond of society, marquis? Can -you understand it?" - -"I can understand it in the case of people who are satisfied with -themselves, and who think that it is always an advantage to exhibit -themselves." - -"To my mind, the ball is delightful thus, at a distance, when we cannot -see it or be seen. There is something piquant--almost poetic--in the -buzzing, this distant music that we hear, and in the idea that people -are being amused or bored outside, and that we are not compelled to take -any part in it." - -"But it is reported to-day that you are about to become reconciled to -society, and that this magnificent fête, which you are giving for love -of good works, will incline you to give or to see others. In short, they -say that you are going to change all your habits and reappear in the -world, like a star too long eclipsed." - -"And why do people say such an extraordinary thing?" - -"Ah! in order to answer that question, I should have to constitute -myself the echo of all the laudations to which you refused to listen; -and I am not in the habit of telling you even the truth when it bears a -resemblance to insipid compliments." - -"I do you that justice, and I authorize you to-night to repeat all that -you have heard." - -"Very well! People say that you are still lovelier than all those women -who take pains to appear lovely; that you outshine the most brilliant -and most admired women by a certain charm peculiar to yourself, and by -an air of noble simplicity which wins all hearts. They are beginning -anew to be surprised that you live in solitude, and--must I tell -everything?" - -"Yes, absolutely everything." - -"They say--I heard it with my own ears as I brushed against people who -had no idea that I was so near: 'What strange whim prevents her marrying -the Marquis della Serra?'" - -"Go on, go on, marquis; say on; have no fear. They say, doubtless, that -I am the more ill-advised in that you are my lover?" - -"No, signora, they do not say that," replied the marquis, in a -chivalrous tone; "and they will not say it, so long as I have a tongue -to deny it, and an arm to avenge your honor." - -"Dear and generous friend!" exclaimed the princess, offering him her -hand; "you take that too seriously. I will wager that everybody believes -and says that we love each other." - -"They may believe and say that I love you, for that is the truth; and -the truth always comes out sooner or later. That is why people know also -that you do not love me." - -"Noble heart! But, now less than ever---- To-morrow I will talk to you -more freely on this subject than I have ever done. I will tell you -everything. This is neither a fitting time nor place. I must return to -the ball, where it is probable that my long absence causes surprise." - -"Are you sufficiently rested and calm?" - -"Yes; now I can resume my mask of impassibility." - -"Ah! it costs you little to assume it, terrible woman!" cried the -marquis, rising and pressing convulsively to his breast the arm that she -had passed through his. "You are as invulnerable in the depths of your -heart as you are on the surface." - -"Do not say that, marquis," said the princess, detaining him and looking -at him with a clear penetrating glance that sent a thrill through -Michel's whole being. "At this solemn moment of my life, that is a stab -of which you do not realize the depth. To-morrow, for the first time in -the twelve years that we have known without comprehending each other, -you will comprehend me perfectly! Come," she added, shaking her lovely -head, as if to banish serious thoughts, "let us go and dance! But first -let us say good-night to the naiad, so lovely in this light, and to this -charming grotto, which will soon be desecrated by the indifferent -multitude." - -"Was it old Pier-Angelo who decorated it so beautifully?" inquired the -marquis, turning toward the naiad. - -"No," replied the princess, "_it was he!_" - -And hurrying from the room, as if impelled by a courageous resolution, -she suddenly drew the curtain aside and threw it upon Michel, who, by -unhoped-for good-fortune, was thus doubly concealed when she passed very -near him. - -As soon as the disquietude due to his own situation as an interloper was -dispelled, he entered the grotto, and finding that he was quite alone -there, he sank upon the divan, beside the place the princess had -occupied. All that he had heard had agitated him strangely; but all the -reflections in which he might have indulged were overshadowed by the -last words that extraordinary woman had uttered. - -Those words might have been an enigma to an absolutely humble and -innocent young man: "_No, it was not Pier-Angelo; it was he!_" What a -mysterious reply, or what extraordinary abstraction! But to Michel it -was not abstraction: that _he_ did not relate to Pier-Angelo, but to -himself. To the princess, therefore, he was a person whom it was not -necessary to call by name, and she spoke of him in that concise and -emphatic way to a man who was in love with her. - -That inexplicable sentence, and the reticence which had preceded it, her -refusal to admit that she loved the marquis, that _solemn moment of her -life_ to which she had referred, that terrible shock which she said that -she had had during the evening, that important confidential -communication which she was to make the next day--did all of these -relate to Michel? - -When he remembered the inexplicable glance she had bestowed upon him -when she saw him for the first time before the opening of the ball, he -was tempted to give way to the most insane presumptions. It is true -that, while she was talking with the marquis, there had been a moment -when her dreamy eyes had shone with no less extraordinary brilliancy; -but it seemed to Michel that their expression was not the same as when -they had looked into his. Glance for glance, he preferred the one that -had fallen to him. - -Who could describe the marvellous and gorgeous romances which that rash -youth's brain developed during the next quarter of an hour? They were -all built upon the same foundation, the unheard-of genius of a young -artist who was ignorant of his own powers, and who had suddenly revealed -them in a brilliant and extensive piece of decorative work. The lovely -princess for whom that masterly work was undertaken had come often, by -stealth, to observe its progress, and during the week that the artist -had spent in the enchanted palace, taking his siesta and eating at -certain hours, in certain mysterious rooms, this invisible fairy had -come to gaze upon him, sometimes from behind a curtain, sometimes from a -rose-window in the wall. She had been smitten with love for his person -or with admiration for his talents--at any rate with an infatuation of -some sort for him; and that sentiment was so intense that she could not -summon the necessary self-possession to manifest it by words. Her glance -had revealed everything to him in spite of herself; and how should he, -trembling and bewildered as he was, find a way to tell her that he had -understood her? - -He had reached that point when the Marquis della Serra, the princess's -adorer, suddenly reappeared before him and surprised him holding in his -hands the fan the princess had left on the divan, and gazing at it -without seeing it. - -"I beg your pardon, my dear child," said the marquis, saluting him with -charming courtesy, "but I am compelled to deprive you of that object, -for which a lady has sent me. But if the Chinese pictures on this fan -interest you, I can place at your disposal a collection of interesting -vases and images from which you will be at liberty to choose." - -"You are much too kind, signor marquis," replied Michel, offended by an -air of benevolence in which he fancied that he could detect an -impertinent assumption of superiority; "the fan does not interest me, -and Chinese painting is not to my taste." - -The marquis perceived Michel's irritation, and rejoined with a smile: - -"Presumably you have seen only coarse specimens of the art of that -people; but there are colored drawings, which, despite the elementary -simplicity of the process, are worthy to be compared with the Etruscan -vases in purity of outline and delightful artlessness of subjects. I -shall be happy to show you those that I own. It is a small pleasure -which I should be glad to afford you, but which would by no means pay my -debt to you, for I have taken very great pleasure in looking at your -paintings." - -The marquis's tone was so sincere, and his face wore such an -unmistakable expression of kindliness, that Michel, attacked on his weak -side, could not refrain from saying ingenuously what he felt. - -"I fear," he said, "that your lordship desires to encourage me by more -indulgence than I deserve; for I cannot suppose that you would stoop to -make sport of a young artist at the outset of his career." - -"God forbid, my young friend!" replied the marquis, holding out his hand -with an irresistibly cordial air. "I know your father too well and -esteem him too highly not to be predisposed in your favor; that much I -must admit; but I can say to you in all sincerity that your paintings -disclose genius and give promise of talent. You see, I do not flatter -you; there are still great faults in your work, due to inexperience or -to overheated imagination: but there is a stamp of grandeur and -originality of conception which can neither be acquired nor lost. Work, -work, my young Michelangelo, and you will deserve the noble name you -bear." - -"Are others of your opinion, signor marquis?" queried Michel, strongly -tempted to introduce the princess's name in the conversation. - -"I think that everybody shares my opinion. Your defects are criticised -indulgently, your good qualities warmly praised; people are not -surprised at your brilliant performance when they learn that you are -from Catania and the son of Pier-Angelo Lavoratori, an excellent -workman, full of fire and spirit. We are loyal compatriots hereabout, -Michelangelo! We rejoice at the triumphs won by a child of the country, -and everyone generously claims a share in them. We esteem so highly -those who are born on our beloved soil, that we forget all distinctions -of rank, and nobles and peasants, artists and artisans, mutually -overlook their ancient prejudices and unite their prayers in a fervent -desire for national unity." - -"Oho!" thought Michel, "the marquis is talking politics to me! I don't -know his opinions. Perhaps, if he has guessed the princess's feelings, -he proposes to try to ruin me! I will not trust him.--Will your lordship -tell me," he said aloud, "if the Princess of Palmarosa has deigned to -look at my paintings, and if she is not altogether dissatisfied with my -work?" - -"The princess is enchanted, do not doubt it, my dear fellow," replied -the marquis, with extraordinary warmth; "and if she knew that you were -here she would come and tell you so herself. But she is too much engaged -at this moment for you to obtain speech of her. To-morrow, I doubt not, -she will give you the praise that you deserve, and you will lose nothing -by waiting. By the way," he said, turning again as he was about to leave -the grotto, "will you come and see my Chinese paintings, and some other -pictures not altogether without merit? I shall be delighted to see you -often. My country house is close at hand." - -Michel bowed, as if to thank him and accept his invitation; but, -although he could not help being flattered by the marquis's gracious -manner toward him, he was depressed, crushed as it were. Evidently the -marquis was not jealous of him. He was not even disturbed. - - - - -XII - -MAGNANI - - -Nothing is so mortifying as to have believed, though it were only for a -single hour, in the reality of a romantic, intoxicating adventure, and -to discover that you have simply been dreaming an absurd dream. Each new -reflection in which our young artist indulged cooled his brain and led -him back to the dismal field of probabilities. Upon what foundation had -he built so many castles in Spain? Upon a glance which he had doubtless -misinterpreted, and upon a remark which he must have misunderstood. All -the convincing arguments which offered a flat contradiction to his -extravagant conceit stood like a mountain in his path, and he felt that -he was falling back from heaven to earth. - -"I am very foolish," he said to himself, "to give all my thoughts to a -problematical pair of eyes and to unintelligible words from a woman whom -I do not know, and whom consequently I do not love, when I have far more -important matters on hand. I must go and see if this marquis did not -deceive me, and if everybody really considers that my paintings show -genius in default of science. And yet," he continued, as he left the -grotto, "there is something that savors of mystery at the bottom of all -this, none the less. How does this marquis know me, when I never saw -him? How does it happen that he accosted me without hesitation, with -such familiarity, and called me by my Christian name, as if we were old -friends? To be sure, he may have been at some window, or in a church, or -on the public square on the day I walked through the city with my -father; or when I was looking at the aërial gardens of the Semiramis -who employs me, he may have been in one of those boudoirs, apparently so -tightly closed, whose windows look in that direction, and where he is -allowed, doubtless, to go and sigh hopelessly for her lovely capricious -eyes." - -Michel walked through the crowd, and attracted no one's attention. His -features were not known, although his name had been on many lips, and -people talked freely of his work in his very ears. - -"That is promising," said some. - -"He still has much to learn," said others. - -"There is much imagination and good taste; it pleases the eye and -interests the mind." - -"True, but some of the arms are too long, and the legs too short; the -foreshortening shows extreme ignorance; the figures are making -impossible gestures." - -"Agreed, but graceful, none the less. I tell you that this boy, for they -say he is a mere child, will go a long way." - -"He is a child of our city." - -"Indeed! well, he will go around it and no farther," retorted a -Neapolitan. - -From first to last Michelangelo Lavoratori heard more kindly praise than -bitter criticism; but he felt many thorns while plucking many roses, and -he realized that success is a sweetmeat in which there is a plentiful -supply of gall. He was depressed at first; then, folding his arms across -his breast, and contemplating his work, without listening farther to the -opinion of others, he took account of its merits and defects with an -impartiality which triumphed over his self-love. - -"They are all right," he said. "It promises, but pays nothing in -advance. I have already made up my mind to destroy these canvases when I -store them in the storerooms of the palace, and I will do better -hereafter. I have made an experiment upon myself, which I do not regret, -although I am not very well satisfied with it; but I shall know how to -profit by it, and whether this undertaking is favorable to my fortunes -or not, it shall be to my talent." - -Having recovered all his lucidity of thought, and reflecting that he was -not one of those patrons who assisted the poor by purchasing a card of -admission, Michel determined to abstain from watching the fête and to -walk about alone in some quiet corner of the palace until he felt -absolutely calm and disposed to go home and to bed. His reason had -returned, but the fatigue of the preceding days had left a touch of -feverish excitement in his blood and in his nerves. He bent his steps -toward the Casino, whence he could go out upon the natural terraces of -the mountain. - -The whole of that magnificent abode was illuminated and adorned with -flowers; the public were allowed free access to every part; but, after -once making the tour of the upper floors, the crowd ceased to go -thither. The bulk of the spectacle, the dancing, music, bustle, youth -and love, were below, in the great temporary ball-room. No one remained -in the upper galleries, on the graceful staircases, or in the vast -apartments, save an occasional majestic or mysterious group of solemn -personages discussing affairs of state, or great coquettes collecting -and detaining by their refined conversation certain chosen men around -their chairs. - -Toward midnight all those who had not a direct interest in the affair, -or were not enjoying themselves, took their leave, and, the concourse -becoming less numerous, the fête was more enjoyable and more beautiful -to the eye. - -Michel reached the princess's aërial garden by a small secret -staircase. At that elevation the breeze was very cool, and he felt -exceedingly refreshed and comfortable as he sat on the top step of that -staircase, near a fragrant flower-bed. The garden was deserted. Through -the silver gauze curtains he could see the interior of the princess's -apartments, also deserted. But Michel was not long alone; Magnani joined -him. - -Magnani was one of the handsomest young men among the mechanics of the -city. He was industrious, intelligent, high-spirited, and honest. Michel -did not attempt to combat the friendly feeling he inspired, and in his -company forgot the embarrassment and distrust which he had felt from the -beginning with all the workmen with whom his father's position had -compelled him to associate. He suffered, poor boy, after years of -leisure, to be thrown with young men who were inclined to be a little -rough and noisy, who reproached him for looking down on them, and whom -he made vain efforts to look upon as his equals. - -He confessed everything to Magnani, whom he saw to be the most -intelligent of them all, and in whose hearty outspokenness there was -nothing offensive or tyrannical. He confided to him all the ambitions, -all the weaknesses, all the intoxicating emotions, all the sufferings, -in a word, all the little secrets of his young heart. Magnani understood -him, excused him and talked sensibly to him. - -"You are not wrong in my eyes, Michel," he said; "inequality of rank is -the law of society; everyone wishes to rise, no one wishes to descend. -If it were otherwise the people would remain in the brute stage. But the -people aspire to grow, thank God! and they do grow, whatever may be done -to prevent them. I myself strive to succeed, to possess something, to -reach a point where I shall not always have to obey, in a word, to be -free! But whatever happiness I may attain, it seems to me that I ought -not to forget the point from which I started. Unjust chance compels many -men to remain in poverty who deserve as well as I, perhaps much better, -to escape from it. That is why I shall never despise those whom I leave -behind me, and shall not cease to love them with all my heart and aid -them with all my power. - -"I know that you shun your brothers in rank without despising them, -without hating them; you do not enjoy yourself with them, and yet you -would do them a favor on occasion; but beware! there is a touch of -ill-advised pride in this sort of patronizing affection, and, although -the day may come when it will be all right, remember that at the present -time it may well seem misplaced. You have more intelligence and more -knowledge of life than most of us, I agree; but is that a very real -superiority? Will not any poor devil who happens to have more wisdom, -virtue, or courage than you be entitled to consider himself your equal -at least, even if his speech is abrupt and his language vulgar? - -"It will happen more than once in your career as an artist that you will -have to endure patiently the impertinence of the rich; indeed, if I am -not mistaken, an artist's life is likely to be a constant struggle to -shelter his individual merit from the contempt of the imaginary merit -attached to birth, power, and wealth. However, you are aiming for that -social level, without fear or shame; you accept the challenge in -advance, you propose to measure strength with the bitter vanity of the -great; how does it happen, pray, that that seems less offensive and less -unpleasant than the harmless familiarity of the humble? I could more -readily excuse the affront of an ignorant man than that of a coxcomb, -and I should feel more at ease amid the fisticuffs of my companions, -than when exposed to the graceful witticisms of my alleged superiors. - -"Is it ennui that drives you away from us? Is it because we have few -ideas and little skill in expressing them? But perhaps we have something -else which would interest you if you understood it. The simplicity which -characterizes us has its noble side, which should arouse respect and -emotion in those who have lost it. Is it the faults or the vices that -are found among us that make you sick at heart? But are the upper -classes exempt from these same vices, which it pains me to see, and -which I am constantly on my guard against? Because they conceal them -better, or because in them debauchery of the mind colors and quickens -that of the body, does it follow that their vices are more estimable? In -vain do they, the fortunate ones of the age, cover their tracks; their -sins, their crimes become known to us, and often, almost always in fact, -they seek their confederates or their victims among us. - -"Go on, Michel, work, hope, rise, but let it not be at the expense of -the spirit of justice and kindness; for in that case, although you might -grow in the opinion of some, you would descend proportionately in the -esteem of the majority." - -"All that you say is true and wise," Michel replied, "but is the -conclusion well drawn? Ought I to pursue the career of art, and at the -same time associate exclusively, or at least by preference, with these -mechanics among whom fate willed that I should be born? If you reflect, -you will see that that is inconsistent, that the great works of art are -in the hands of the rich, that they alone own, purchase, and order -pictures, statues, urns, carvings, and engravings. To be employed by -them, one must needs live with them and as they live; otherwise -oblivion, obscurity and poverty are the lot of genius. Our ancestors, -the noble artists of the Renaissance and the Middle Ages, were artists -and artisans at once. Their position was well-defined, and was more or -less brilliant according to their talent. To-day all is changed. Artists -are more numerous and the rich are less powerful and magnificent. Taste -has become corrupted, the Mæcenases are no longer connoisseurs. Fewer -palaces are built; for one great collection that is formed, thirty are -sold piecemeal to pay debts, or because the heirs of the great families -prefer cash to monuments of genius. It is no longer enough, therefore, -to be a man of superior talent in order to find employment and honor in -one's profession. Chance, and, even more frequently, intrigue, cause -some to float, while others, who it may be are of far greater worth, are -submerged. - -"However, I do not trust to chance, and my pride refuses to stoop to -intrigue. What shall I do, then? Shall I wait until some collector's eye -is attracted by a decorative figure, broadly conceived, on sized canvas, -and he is so impressed by it that he comes next day to the wineshop to -hunt me up and order a picture? Such good fortune may occur once in a -hundred times; but even then, on the day when it occurs to me, I shall -owe my bread to the patronage of the rich man, who is beginning to be -interested in me. Sooner or later I must bow before him and beg him to -recommend me to others. Would it not be better for me, at the earliest -possible moment, as soon as I am sure of myself, to quit the ladder and -the apron, to assume the external aspect of a man who does not beg, and -to present myself, with my head erect, among the rich? If I go out of -the wineshop arm-in-arm with the merry knights of the saw and trowel, it -is evident that I cannot enter the palace as a guest, but as a paid -workman; and at this moment, if I should venture to accost one of these -lovely women and ask her to dance, I should be spat upon and turned out -of doors within a quarter of an hour. The time must come, however, when -they will make overtures to me, and when my talent will be a title -capable of contending on equal terms with that of duke or marquis for -the triumphs of this world. But only on condition that my habits and my -manners bear the stamp and seal of aristocracy. I must be what they call -a man of good breeding; otherwise it would avail me nothing to be a man -of genius; no one would believe it. - -"I shall not make my way as an artist, therefore, except by destroying -the artisan in me. I must succeed in becoming the free possessor of my -own works, and in selling them as an owner does, instead of executing -them like a day-laborer. Well! for that I must have reputation, and in -these days reputation does not go about looking for an artist in his -garret; he is obliged to acquire it himself by his own exertions, -consorting with those who award it, demanding it as a right and not -imploring it as alms. Tell me, Magnani, how I am to escape this dilemma! -And yet it pains me terribly, I assure you, to think that I must in some -sense deny the race of my fathers, and that I must submit to be accused -of idiocy and impudence by men whose brother and friend I feel that I -am. You see that I must go away from a country where my father's -popularity would make this separation more offensive to others and more -painful to myself than elsewhere. I came here to perform a duty--to -expiate my heedlessness at Rome; but when my task is done, I must return -thither, and from there travel the world over, in the disguise, perhaps -premature, of a free man. If I do not do it, farewell to my whole -future; I may as well renounce it to-day." - -"Yes! yes! I understand," said Magnani; "you must set yourself free at -any price. The journeyman's work is slavery; the work of an artist is -the title of manhood. You are right, Michel; it is your right, -consequently your duty and your destiny. But how dismal and cruel the -destiny of an intelligent man is! One must cast off his family, leave -his native land, act a sort of comedy to induce strangers to accept him -as one of themselves, assume a mask in order to receive the laurel -wreath, take up arms against the poor who condemn him and the rich who -are loath to receive him! Why, it is horrible! it is enough to disgust -one with glory! In God's name, what is glory that one should purchase it -at that price?" - -"Glory, as it is commonly understood, is nothing at all, I agree," -replied Michel, warmly, "if it is nothing more than the trifling noise a -man may make in the world. Shame to him who denies his blood and -sacrifices his affections to gratify his vanity! But glory, according to -my conception, is not that! It is the manifestation and development of -the genius one bears within oneself. In default of enlightened judges, -warm admirers, stern critics, and even jealous detractors--in default of -opportunity to enjoy all the advantages, to receive all the counsels, to -undergo all the persecution which follow in the wake of renown--genius -withers and dies in discouragement, apathy, doubt or ignorance of -itself. Thanks to all the triumphs, all the struggles, all the wounds -which await us in a lofty career, we acquire the power to make the most -glorious use of our capabilities, and to leave a deep, ineffaceable, -forever fruitful trace in the world of thought. Ah! he who truly loves -his art desires glory for his works, not in order that his name may -live, but that his art may not die. And what would it matter to me that -I had not the art of my patron saint Michelangelo, if I should leave to -posterity an anonymous work worthy to be compared to the _Last -Judgment_! To make oneself talked about is more often a source of -martyrdom than of intoxicating pleasure. The serious-minded artist seeks -that martyrdom and endures it patiently. He knows that it is the harsh -condition of his success; and his success, not in being applauded and -understood by all, but in producing and leaving behind him something in -which he himself has faith. But what is the matter, Magnani? You are -sad, and you are not listening to me." - - - - -XIII - -AGATHA - - -"Yes, I am listening to you, Michel, I am listening attentively," -Magnani replied, "and I am sad because I feel the force of your -reasoning. You are not the first person with whom I have talked of these -matters. I have known more than one young mechanic who aspired to drop -his trade, to become a merchant, lawyer, priest or artist; and it is -true enough that the number of these deserters increases every year. -Whoever feels that he possesses intelligence instantly becomes conscious -of ambition; and hitherto I have fought such tendencies vigorously in -others and in myself. My parents, who are proud and obstinate like the -prudent, hard-working old people that they are, taught me, as a -religious precept, to remain true to family traditions--to the customs -of my rank; and my heart approved of that strict and simple code of -morals. That is why I have resolved not to seek success outside of my -trade, though I sometimes have to crush my own impulses. That is why I -have always roughly trampled upon the self-love of my young comrades as -soon as I saw it sprouting; that is why my first words of sympathy and -regard for you were warnings and reproaches. It seems to me now that, -until I had you to deal with, I was in the right, because the others -were really vain, and their vanity tended to make them selfish and -ungrateful. So that I felt fully justified in rebuking them, laughing at -them and preaching to them by turns. But with you I feel that I am weak, -because you are stronger than I in theory. You depict art in such grand -and beautiful colors, you feel so strongly the noble character of your -mission, that I dare not oppose you any longer. It seems to me that you -have a right to break down every obstacle in order to succeed, even your -heart, as I broke mine in order to remain obscure. And yet my conscience -is not satisfied with this solution. It does not seem to me to be a -solution. Come, Michel, you are more learned than I; tell me which of us -is wrong before God!" - -"My friend, I believe that we are both right," replied Michel. "I -believe that at this moment we represent between us what is taking -place, contradictorily but simultaneously, in the minds of the common -people in all civilized nations. You plead for sentiment. Your paternal -feeling is holy and sacred. It is opposed to my idea; but my idea is -grand and true; it is as sacred in its passion for combat, as your -sentiment in its theory of renunciation and silence. You are following -your duty, I am enforcing my right. Bear with me, Magnani, for I respect -you, and each of our ideals is incomplete until it is completed by the -other." - -"Yes, you speak of abstract ideas," rejoined Magnani, thoughtfully, "and -I think that I understand you; but in the concrete the question is not -solved. The society of the present day is struggling between two reefs, -resignation and resistance. Through love for my class I choose to suffer -and protest with it. From the same motive, perhaps, you choose to fight -and triumph in its name. These two methods of action seem to exclude and -condemn each other. Before the divine tribunal which will prevail, -sentiment or idea? You say, both. But on earth, where men are not -governed by divine laws, how can we possibly make those two extremes -harmonize? I seek in vain a means." - -"But why seek it?" said Michel; "it does not exist on earth at this -moment. The people may free themselves and make themselves famous as a -whole by glorious battles, by good morals, by civic virtues, but each -individual of the people has his individual destiny; the destiny of the -man who feels that he was born to touch hearts is to live on fraternal -terms with the simple; of him who feels that his calling is to enlighten -men's minds, to seek light, though it be in solitude, though it be among -the enemies of his race. The great masters of art worked, from a -material standpoint, for wealth, but, from a moral standpoint, for all -mankind; for the poorest of the poor can obtain from their works a -revelation and appreciation of the beautiful. Let every man follow his -inspiration therefore, and bow to the mysterious designs of Providence -with respect to him! My father loves to sing rollicking ballads in -taverns; he electrifies his companions with them; the stories that he -tells sitting on a bench at a street corner, his cheery humor, and his -ardor in singing or in the common toil inspire all those who see and -hear him. Heaven has endowed him with the power of acting directly, by -the simplest means, on the vital fibres of his brethren, zeal in labor, -expansiveness in the hours of rest. For my part, I have a liking for -solitary temples, sumptuous, dark old palaces, venerable masterpieces, -studious reverie, the refined enjoyments of art. The society of -patricians has no terrors for me. I consider them too degenerate to be -feared; their names have for me a poesy which makes of them mere -figures, ghosts, if you choose, and I love to walk smiling among those -ghosts who do not frighten me. I love the dead; I live with the past; -and from the past I acquire my idea of the future; but I confess that I -have but little notion of the present, that the precise moment of my -existence has no existence for me, because I am always delving in the -past, and pushing all realities forward. In that way I transform them -and idealize them. You see that I should not reach the same ends as my -father and you, even if I used the same means. It is not in me to do -it." - -"Michel," said Magnani, striking his forehead, "you have won! I must -absolve you and spare you my remonstrances henceforth! But I am -suffering, I am suffering terribly! Your words cause me very great -pain!" - -"How so, my dear Magnani?" - -"That is my secret, and yet I tell it to you without betraying its -sanctity. Can you possibly suppose that I have not some legitimate -ambition, some secret, deep-rooted desire to set myself free from the -servitude in which I live? Don't you know that all men have at the -bottom of their hearts the desire to be happy? And do you suppose that -the consciousness of a joyless duty causes me to wallow in delight? - -"Listen and judge of my martyrdom. I have loved madly for five years a -woman whose rank in society places her as far above me as heaven is -above the earth. Having always considered it impossible that she should -ever bestow so much as a compassionate glance upon me, I cultivated a -sort of gloomy satisfaction in my suffering, my poverty, my forced -nullity among my fellowmen. With a bitter feeling at my heart, I -determined not to imitate those who are determined to succeed and who -expose themselves to the risk of being scoffed at from above and from -below. If I were one of them, I thought, perhaps the day would come when -I might gallantly raise to my lips the hand of her whom I adore. But as -soon as I opened my mouth to reveal the mystery of my passion, I should -undoubtedly be spurned, laughed at, trampled under foot; I prefer to -remain lost in the dust of my trade, and never to carry my insane -presumption so far as her feet. I prefer that she should continue to -believe it impossible that I could ever dream of aspiring to her. At all -events, while I wear the livery of the mechanic, she will respect the -suffering of which she knows nothing; she will not intensify it by -discovering it, by blushing because she inspired it, by deeming it -necessary to protect herself from it. Now, she passes me as she passes -anything which is of no consequence to her, but which she does not -consider that she has the right to spurn and crush. She bows to me, -smiles at me, and speaks to me as to a being of a different nature from -her own: that instinct is not manifest, but it is in her; I feel it and -I understand it. At all events, she does not think of humiliating me, -she would not do it; and the less reason I have for priding myself upon -the possibility of pleasing her, the less do I fear that she will insult -me by her pity. All this would change if I were a painter or a poet, if -I could present her with her portrait done by my trembling hand, or with -a sonnet indited by me in her honor; she would smile differently, she -would speak differently. There would be reserve, mockery, or compassion -in her kindness, according as I should have succeeded or failed in my -artistic efforts. Oh! how far that would remove me from her, how much -lower it would leave me than I now am! I prefer to be the mechanic who -renders her a service by selling her the use of his arms, rather than -the beginner in art to be patronized as a weakling or pitied as a -madman!" - -"I approve what you have done," said Michel, who had become pensive in -his turn. "I like your pride, and I think that it would be a good -example to follow even in my position and with the projects which I -entertain, if I were tempted to seek love beyond certain obstacles, -which, though absurd, are enormous!" - -"Oh! it is very different with you, Michel. The obstacles which would -exist between you and a great lady to-day will quickly be surmounted, -and, as you yourself have said, the day will come when those women will -make advances to you. Those words, which escaped from your heart, seemed -to me presumptuous and absurd at first. Now that I understand you they -seem perfectly natural and legitimate to me. Yes, you will win the favor -of women of the most exalted rank, because you are in the bloom of -youth, because your beauty is of a refined and somewhat effeminate type, -which gives you a resemblance to the men who are born to a life of -idleness; because you are accustomed to fashionable society, because you -have the instinct of good manners and seem perfectly at home in the -clothes you wear; for all these things, added to genius and success, are -essential to induce proud women to overlook the artist's plebeian -origin. Yes, you will be able to appear a man in their eyes, while I -should disguise myself to no purpose; I should never be anything but a -mechanic, and my rough shell would show in spite of me. It is too late -for me to begin: I am twenty-six years old! But I thrill with strange -emotion when I think that, five years ago, when I was still as pliable -as wax, if someone had encouraged and ennobled in my eyes the instincts -that were springing to life within me, if someone had spoken to me as -you have just done, I might have followed a course not unlike yours, and -have started upon a soul-stirring career! My mind was open to the -sentiment of the beautiful; I could sing like the nightingale, without -understanding my own notes, but with the power of untaught inspiration. -I could read, understand, and remember many books; I understood nature, -too; I could read in the sky and in the broad expanse of the sea, in the -verdure of the forests and the blue-capped mountains. It seems to me -that I might have been a musician, or a poet, or a landscape painter. -And love was already speaking to my heart; already she had appeared to -me from whom I cannot detach my thoughts. What a stimulus for me if I -had surrendered to my violent temptations!--But I forced them all back -into my heart, fearing to be false to my kindred and friends, fearing to -degrade myself in their eyes and my own by seeking to rise. I have -inured myself to work; my hands have become callous, and my mind as -well. My chest has increased in size, it is true, and my heart has kept -pace with it, like a polypus which feeds upon me and absorbs all my -vitality; but my brow has retreated, I am sure of it; my imagination has -collapsed; poesy is dead within me; I have nothing left except the -reasoning power, loyalty, resolution, and self-sacrifice--that is to -say, suffering! Ah! Michel, spread your wings and leave this land of -sorrows! fly, like a bird, to the domes of palaces and temples, and from -that height look down upon this wretched people, grovelling and groaning -at your feet. Pity me at least, love me if you can, and never do -anything which can lower you in your own eyes." - -Magnani was deeply moved; but suddenly his emotion changed its nature; -he started, hastily turned his head and put his hand on the branches of -a dense clump of rose myrtle, which masked a dark recess in the wall -behind him. That curtain of verdure, which he put aside with a -convulsive movement, concealed the entrance to a secret passage, which, -as it presumably led only to the servants' quarters, was not open to the -princess's guests. Michel, surprised at Magnani's movement, glanced into -the passage, which was dimly lighted by a dying lamp, the farther end -being in total darkness. It seemed to him that he saw a white figure -gliding through the shadows, but it was so vague that it was hardly -perceptible, and it might have been an illusion caused by the sudden -introduction of a brighter light when the bushes were put aside. He was -about to enter; but Magnani detained him, saying: - -"We have no right to watch what takes place in the reserved portions of -this sanctuary. My first curious movement was made without reflection; I -thought that I heard a light step close beside me, and--I was dreaming, -doubtless!--I fancied that I saw this bush move. But it was an illusion -due to the fear that seized upon me at the thought that I was on the -point of letting my secret pass my lips. I must leave you, Michel; these -outpourings of the heart are dangerous, they upset me; I feel that I -must withdraw into myself and give my reason time to allay the tempests -raised in my breast by your words and your example." - -Magnani hurried away, and Michel returned to the ball. The confession of -his young companion, that he was beset by an insane love for a great -lady, had reawakened in him an emotion which he thought that he had -conquered. He hovered about the dancers, trying to divert his thoughts, -for he felt that his folly was as dangerous for the moment as Magnani's. -Many years must pass before he could consider that his genius had placed -him on the level of the most exalted social ranks; so that he derived an -agonizing sort of amusement from watching the youngest of the dancers -and dreamily seeking among them one whom he might some day gaze upon -with eyes inflamed with love and presumption. Probably he did not -discover her, for he transferred his fancy from one to another, and, as -one risks nothing by being hard to please in that variety of castles in -Spain, he continued to seek, and to discuss with himself the comparative -merits of those youthful beauties. - -But in the midst of these aberrations of his brain he suddenly saw the -Princess of Palmarosa pass. He had been careful hitherto to remain at -some distance from the dancing groups, and to keep well out of sight -behind the benches of the amphitheatre; now he involuntarily approached; -and, although the crowd was not dense enough to justify or conceal his -presence, he walked on until he was almost in the front row, among -persons each nobler and richer than his neighbor. This time his -instinctive pride did not warn him of the perils of his situation. An -invincible magnet drew him on and detained him: the princess was -dancing. - -Doubtless it was for form's sake, to satisfy the proprieties, or from -good nature, for she simply walked, and did not seem to take the -slightest pleasure in it. But she walked better than the others danced, -and, without a thought of striving to be graceful, she displayed every -variety of grace. That woman really possessed an extraordinary charm -which penetrated like a subtle perfume, and finally dominated or effaced -everything about her. One would have said that she was a queen in the -midst of her court, in some kingdom where moral and physical perfection -reigned. - -It was the chastity of the celestial virgins with their omnipotent -serenity--a pallor in nowise extreme or sickly--which denoted the -absence of intense emotions. People said that the secret of that -mysterious life was either systematic abstinence from excitement or -extraordinary indifference. And yet her appearance was not that of a -lifeless statue. Kindness of heart lent animation to her somewhat -absent-minded glance and gave an indescribable sweetness to her faint -smile. - -In the glare of those countless lights she appeared to Michel an -entirely different woman from her he had seen in the grotto an hour -earlier, when the peculiar light or his own imagination had made her -appear a little terrifying to him. Now her indifference was calm rather -than depressed, habitual rather than forced. She had recovered just -enough animation to vanquish the heart and leave the passions -undisturbed. - - - - -XIV - -BARBAGALLO - - -If Michel could have removed his eyes from the object of his -contemplation, he would have seen his father playing a flageolet in the -orchestra a few steps away. Pier-Angelo had a passion for art in any -form in which he could assimilate it. He loved and understood music, and -played several instruments by instinct in almost perfect tone and time. -Having attended to several details of the fête which had been placed -under his supervision, and having nothing more to do, he had been unable -to resist the desire to mingle with the musicians, who knew him well, -and who took pleasure in his gayety, his attractive, kindly face, and -the enthusiasm with which he produced from time to time a shrill -_ritornello_ on his instrument. When the minstrel whose place he had -taken returned from the buffet, Pier-Angelo seized upon the vacant -cymbals, and, toward the end of the quadrille, was sawing with great -delight the heavy strings of the bass-viol. - -He was enchanted above all things to play for the princess, who, having -espied his bald head on the platform among the orchestra, bestowed upon -him from a distance a smile and an imperceptible friendly nod which the -old man stored away in his heart. Michelangelo would have considered -perhaps that his father gave his time too lavishly to the service of his -dear patroness, and did not maintain strictly enough his dignity as an -artisan. But at that moment Michel, who believed that he had forgotten -or been cured of the effect of Princess Agatha's glance, had fallen so -completely under its influence that he cared for nothing but to -encounter it again. - -His only fine clothes, which a lingering remnant of ineradicable -aristocratic feeling had led him to bring through the gorges of Ætna in -a travelling-bag slung over his shoulder, were of fashionable cut and in -good taste. His face, too, was so handsome and so noble that there -certainly was nothing to which exception could be taken in his person or -in his dress. And yet his presence in the circle immediately surrounding -the princess had, for some moments past, offended the eyes of Master -Barbagallo, the majordomo of the palace. - -That individual, ordinarily the mildest and most humane of men, had -nevertheless his antipathies and his spasms of comical indignation. He -had recognized Michel's talent; but the young man's impatient air when -he ventured to address some trivial remark to him, and the small respect -he had seemed to entertain for his authority, had caused the majordomo -to look upon the painter with distrust and something like aversion. -According to his ideas--and he had made a special study of titles and -heraldry--nobody was noble but the _nobles_, and he looked upon all -other classes of society with silent but unconquerable disdain. He was -shocked and offended, therefore, to see the haughty palace of his -masters thrown open to what he called a mob--tradesmen, lawyers, -Jewesses, suspicious travellers, students, petty officers; in a word, to -anyone who chose to pay a gold-piece for the privilege of dancing in the -princess's quadrille. This subscription fête was a new invention, -imported from abroad, and it overturned all his notions of decorum. - -The retirement in which the princess had always lived had assisted this -worthy majordomo to retain all his illusions and all his prejudices -touching the excellence of castes. That is why he became more and more -distressed, restless and morose as the night advanced. He had seen the -princess promise a contra-dance to a young lawyer who had had the -audacity to invite her; and when he saw Michelangelo Lavoratori gazing -at her at such close quarters with enraptured eyes, he wondered if that -dauber of canvas would not also enter the lists to dance with her. - -"The world has turned upside down in twenty years, I see," he said to -himself; "if such a ball as this had been given here in Prince Dionigi's -time, things would have been managed differently. Each class would have -kept apart from the rest; they would have formed different groups, and -no group would have mingled with its superiors or inferiors. But here -all ranks are jumbled together; it's a bazar--an infernal revel!--But, -by the way," it occurred to him, "what is that little painter doing -here? He didn't pay any money; he has not even the right which anyone -can buy to-day, alas! at the door of the noble Palmarosa palace. He is -only admitted here as a workman. If he chooses to play the tambourine -beside his old father, or look after the lamps, let him stand back from -where he is now. I will take down his conceit a peg, and it won't do him -any good to play at being a great painter. I'll send him back to his -sizing. It's a little lesson that I owe him, as his old madman of a -father spoils him and doesn't know how to manage him." - -Armed with this noble resolution, Messire Barbagallo, who dared not -approach the princess's circle himself, tried to attract Michel's -attention from a distance by making innumerable signs, of which the -young man remained utterly unconscious. Thereupon the majordomo, seeing -that the contra-dance was nearly at an end, and that the princess could -not fail to see young Lavoratori, who had planted himself so audaciously -in her path, determined to accomplish his purpose by a coup d'état. He -glided among the spectators like a hunting-dog in a field of grain, and, -gently passing his arm through the young man's, he tried to lead him -aside without any noise or disturbance. - -At that moment Michel had met the glance from the princess which he had -been seeking and awaiting so long. - -That glance had thrilled him like an electric shock, veiled though it -was by instinctive prudence; and when he felt some one grasp his arm, -without deigning to turn his head to ascertain with whom he had to do, -he repelled with an energetic dig of the elbow the indiscreet hand that -had touched him. - -"What are you doing here, Master Michel?" said the indignant majordomo -in his ear. - -"What business is it of yours?" he replied, turning his back and -shrugging his shoulders. - -"You ought not to be here," replied Barbagallo, on the point of losing -patience, but restraining himself sufficiently to speak in a low tone. - -"It is all right for you to be here, I suppose!" replied Michel, glaring -at him with eyes inflamed with wrath, hoping to get rid of him by -intimidation. - -But Barbagallo had a certain courage of his own; he would have submitted -to be spat upon rather than fail in the smallest degree in what he -conceived to be his duty. - -"I am doing my duty," he said; "go and do yours. I am sorry to disturb -you; but everyone must keep in his place. Oh! don't be insolent! Where -is your card of admission? You haven't one, I know. If you are allowed -to see the fête, it is only on condition that you look after the buffet -or the lights, like your father; let us see, what were you told to do? -Go and find the butler, and he will tell you what to do; and if he -doesn't need you, go away, instead of staring ladies out of -countenance." - -Master Barbagallo continued to speak so low that nobody could hear him -save Michel; but his wrathful eyes and his convulsive gestures were -eloquent enough, and people were already beginning to look at them. -Michel had fully determined to retire, for he knew that he had no way of -resisting the order. The idea of striking an old man was most -distasteful to him, and yet never before had the blood of the common -people itched more fiercely in the hollow of his hand. He would have -yielded smilingly to an impertinence couched in polite phraseology; but, -not knowing what to do to rescue his dignity from that absurd attack, he -felt as if he should die of rage and shame. - -Barbagallo was already threatening, under his breath, to call for help -to overcome his resistance. The persons who were nearest them glanced -with an expression of satirical surprise at this strange young man at -odds with the majordomo of the palace. The ladies gathered up their -skirts and drew back into the crowd, to be farther away from him. They -thought that he might be a pickpocket who had found his way into the -ball-room, or some insolent intriguer who was about to cause a scandal. - -But just as poor Michel was on the point of swooning with wrath and -shame, for the blood was already roaring in his ears, and his legs were -giving way, a faint cry, not two yards away, drove all the blood back to -his heart. It seemed to him that he had heard that cry before, a cry of -grief, surprise and affection, all in one, in the midst of his sleep on -the evening of his arrival at the palace. Obeying an instinctive impulse -of confidence and hope, which he could not explain to himself, he turned -in the direction of that friendly voice and darted forward at random, as -if to seek refuge on the breast from which it issued. Suddenly he found -himself close beside the princess, with his hand in hers, which pressed -it tremblingly but warmly. That movement and that expression of their -mutual emotion were as rapid as the lightning flash. The amazed -spectators opened a passage for the princess, who walked across the -hall, leaning upon Michel, leaving her partner in the middle of his -final bow, the majordomo in utter dismay, wishing that he could sink -through the floor, and the spectators laughing at the good man's -discomfiture, and concluding that Michel was some young foreigner of -distinction recently arrived at Catania, to whom the princess made haste -to atone, with graceful tact and without useless words, for her -majordomo's blunder. - - -[Illustration: _THE BALL AT THE PALMAROSA -PALACE._ - -_When Signora Agatha reached the foot of the -great staircase, where there were few people, she -had recovered her tranquillity; but Michel was -trembling more than ever._] - - -When Signora Agatha reached the foot of the great staircase, where there -were few people, she had recovered her tranquillity; but Michel was -trembling more than ever. - -"Doubtless she is going to show me the door herself," he thought, -"without allowing anyone to divine her purpose. She is too great and too -kind not to rescue me from the insults of her servants and the contempt -of her guests; but the advice she is going to give me will be none the -less deadly. This probably means the ruin of all my future prospects, -and the wreck of the life I have dreamed of will lie here on the -threshold of her palace." - -"Michelangelo Lavoratori," said the princess, putting her bouquet to her -face to deaden the sound of her voice, which might have reached some ear -on the alert with curiosity, "I have discovered to-day that you are a -genuine artist, and that a noble career lies open before you. A few more -years of earnest work, and you may become a master. Then the world will -receive you, as you deserve to be received to-day, for the man who has -nothing more than well-founded hopes of his personal glory is at least -the equal of those who have only the memory of the glory of their -ancestors. But tell me if you are in haste to make your appearance in -this society which you have seen to-night, and whose spirit you can -already divine? If you wish it, I have but to say a word, to raise my -hand. All the connoisseurs here noticed your figures, and asked me your -name, your age, and your antecedents. I have only to present you to my -friends, to declare that you are an artist, and from this day you will -be so considered, and practically emancipated from your present social -position. Your father's humble profession, far from injuring you, will -be an added source of interest; for the world is always surprised to see -a poor man born with genius, as if artistic genius had not always sprung -from the common people, and as if our caste were still fruitful in -superior men. Answer me, Michel; do you wish to sup to-night at my -table, by my side, or do you prefer to sup in the buttery, beside your -father?" - -This last question was put so concisely that Michel thought that he -could read his sentence in it. "This is either a delicately administered -but most severe lesson that I am receiving," he thought, "or else it is -a test. I will come forth pure!"--And at once recovering his wits, which -had been violently agitated a moment before, he replied proudly: - -"Signora, most fortunate are they who sit at your side and whom you -treat as friends! But the first time that I sup with persons in -aristocratic society, it will be at my own table, with my father sitting -opposite me. That is equivalent to saying that it will never happen, or -that, in any event, many years still separate me from glory and wealth. -Meanwhile, I will sup with my father in the buttery of your palace, to -prove to you that I am not proud and that I accept your invitation." - -"Your reply gratifies me," said the princess; "continue to be a man of -spirit, Michel, and destiny will smile upon you; remember that I predict -it!" - -As she spoke, she looked him in the face, for she had dropped his arm -and was about to leave him. Michel was dazzled by the flames that gushed -from her eyes, usually so soft and dreamy, but animated for him -alone--that was certain now--with an irresistible affection. And yet he -was not disturbed by it as before. Either it was a different expression, -or he had misunderstood it at first. What he had taken for passion was -affection, rather, and the desire which had swept over him like a flood -changed to a sort of enthusiastic adoration, as chaste as she who -inspired it. - -"But listen," added the princess, motioning to the Marquis della Serra, -who passed at that moment, to give her his arm, and thus admitting him -to a share in the conversation: "although there is nothing humiliating -to a sagacious mind in eating in the buttery, and although there is -nothing intensely exhilarating in supping in the salon, I desire that -you should do neither. I have reasons for that which are entirely -personal to you, and which your father must have explained to you. You -have already attracted attention to-day by your work. Avoid showing -yourself freely for a few days more, but without concealing yourself -with an affectation of mystery, which course would have its dangers. I -could have wished that you had not come to this fête. You should have -understood why I did not order a card of admission to be given to you; -and your father tried to remove any desire that you might have to be -present by telling you that, if you remained, you would be charged with -some duty which would not suit you. Why did you come? Tell me frankly: -are you very fond of spectacles like this? You must have seen as -beautiful ones at Rome?" - -"No, signora, I have never seen any that were beautiful at all, for you -were not present." - -"He wishes to make me believe," said the princess, with a smile of the -utmost amiability, addressing the marquis, "that he came to the ball on -my account. Do you believe it, marquis?" - -"I am sure of it," replied the marquis, pressing Michel's hand -affectionately. "Let us see, Master Michelangelo, when are you coming to -see my pictures and dine with me?" - -"He also declares," said the princess, hastily, "that he will never dine -with people of our sort without his father." - -"Why this exaggerated timidity, pray?" said the marquis, fixing his eyes -upon Michel's with an expression of penetrating intelligence, in which a -touch of severity was mingled with kindliness; "can it be that Michel is -afraid that you or I would make him blush because he is not yet as -respectable as his father? You are young, my boy, and no one can expect -to find in you the virtues for which the noble-hearted Pier-Angelo is -admired and loved; but your intelligence and your excellent sentiments -are enough to justify you in going anywhere with confidence, without -being compelled to efface yourself in your father's shadow. However, -have no fear; your father has already promised to come to dine with me -the day after to-morrow. Will it be convenient for you to accompany him -on that day?" - -Michel having accepted, struggling the while to conceal his confusion -and surprise beneath an affected ease of manner, the marquis added: - -"Now allow me to tell you that we shall dine together on the sly: your -father was accused of conspiracy long ago; I am an object of suspicion -to the government; we still have enemies who may accuse us again of -conspiring." - -"Well, good-night, Michelangelo, we shall meet again soon," said the -princess, observing Michel's bewilderment; "be charitable enough to -believe that we know how to appreciate real merit, and that we did not -wait for yours to be revealed before discovering your father's. Your -father has been our friend for many years, and if he does not eat at my -table every day, it is because I fear to expose him to persecution by -his enemies by making him conspicuous." - -Michel was perturbed and out of countenance, although he would not for -anything in the world have given the impression that he was dazzled by -the sudden favors of fortune; but at heart he felt humiliated rather -than overjoyed by the affectionate lesson he had received. "For it was a -lesson," he said to himself, when the princess and the marquis, being -accosted by other guests, had walked away, after bidding him good-night -with a friendly nod; "these wise and philosophical grandees gave me to -understand clearly enough that their affability is a mark of homage -bestowed upon my father rather than myself. I am invited on his account, -not he on mine; so that it is not my merit which procures me these marks -of distinction, but my father's virtuous qualities. O God! forgive me -for the proud thoughts that led me to desire to enter upon my career -apart from him! I was mad, I was wicked; I have received a most useful -lesson from these great nobles, upon whom I sought to impose respect for -my origin, and who have, or pretend to have, a more heartfelt respect -for it than I have myself." - -But the young artist's wounded pride soon recovered from this blow. "I -have it!" he cried, after musing a few moments. "These people are deep -in politics. They are still conspiring. Probably they did not even take -the trouble to look at my paintings, or else they know nothing about -art. They pet and flatter my father, who is one of their tools, and they -are trying to gain possession of me, too. Ah well! if they wish to -arouse Sicilian patriotism in my bosom, let them go about it in a -different way and not attempt to exploit my youth without advantage to -my reputation! I see their object; but they shall learn to know me. I am -willing to be the victim of a noble cause, but not the dupe of other -people's ambition." - - - - -XV - -ROMANTIC LOVE - - -"But," said Michel to himself, "are the patricians all alike in this -island? Does the age of gold still flourish in Catania, and do the -servants alone retain the pride of prejudice?" - -The majordomo had just passed and saluted him with a depressed and -crestfallen air. Doubtless he had been reprimanded, or expected to be. - -Michel was passing through the dressing-room, resolved to go home, when -he saw Pier-Angelo holding the wadded great-coat of an old noble in a -light wig, who was feeling about for the arm-holes, shaking as with -palsy. Michel blushed at that sight, and quickened his pace. In his -opinion, his father was much too good-natured, and the man who allowed -himself to be waited upon thus gave an explicit contradiction to the -conjectures in which he had just been indulging concerning the -noble-hearted generosity of the great. - -But he did not escape the humiliation he shunned. "Ah!" cried -Pier-Angelo, "there he is, monsignor! Look, you were asking me if he was -a handsome boy; look at him!" - -"Ah! upon my word, the rascal is well turned, and no mistake!" said the -old noble, standing in front of Michel, and eying him from head to foot, -as he wrapped his coat about him. "I am much pleased with your -decorative work, my boy; I noticed it particularly. I was just telling -your father, whom I have known a long while, that you will deserve to -succeed him some day in his trade; and if you don't go about town too -much, you'll never land in the gutter. At all events, if you ever do get -there, it will be your own fault. Call my carriage for me. Be quick; -there is quite a cool wind to-night, and it's a bad thing when one has -just been in such a suffocating crowd." - -"A thousand pardons, your excellency," rejoined Michel, frantic with -rage. "I am afraid of the wind myself." - -"What does he say?" the old man asked Pier-Angelo. - -"He says that your excellency's carriage is at the door," replied Pier, -struggling hard to keep from roaring with laughter. - -"Very good; I will hire him by the day, with you, when I have work for -you." - -"Oh! father!" cried Michel, as soon as the old nobleman had gone, "how -can you laugh? That impertinent man treats you like a footman, and you -accept such treatment with a smile!" - -"It makes you angry," said Pier, "but why? I am laughing at your anger -and not at the goodman's lack of ceremony. Didn't I promise to help the -people of the house in every way? I happen to be here; he asks me for -his great-coat; he is old, infirm, foolish--three reasons why I should -take pity on him. And why should I despise him, pray?" - -"Because he despises you!" - -"According to your ideas, but not according to his conception of the -things of this world. He is an old devotee, formerly a great rake. In -the old days he seduced the daughters of the common people; to-day he -bestows alms on the poor mothers. God will forgive him for his early -sins, beyond any doubt. Why should I be more straitlaced than the good -Lord! I tell you that the differences which social customs create among -men are neither so important nor so real as you think, my child. They -are all disappearing little by little, and if those who are inordinately -sensitive would be a little less stiff, all those barriers would soon be -nothing but empty words. For my part I laugh at those who consider -themselves so much better than I am, and I never lose my temper. It is -not in any man's power to humiliate me, so long as I am at peace with my -conscience." - -"Do you know, father, that you are invited to dine with the Marquis -della Serra on the day after to-morrow?" - -"Yes, that is understood," replied Pier-Angelo, coolly. "I accepted this -invitation because he is not tiresome like most of the great nobles. Ah! -what a price some of them would have to pay me to induce me to pass a -couple of hours with them! But the marquis is a man of intellect. Do you -mean to go there with me? Don't accept unless you choose, Michel; do you -understand? You must not stand on ceremony with any one if you wish to -retain your openness of heart." - -There was evidently a wide difference between Pier-Angelo's idea of the -honor conferred upon him by such an invitation and the idea that Michel -had conjured up of his triumphal entrance into society. Intoxicated at -first by what had seemed to him to be love on the part of the princess; -then bewildered by the amiability of the marquis, which tended to -diminish the force of the portent, but did not explain it; and, lastly, -irritated by the insolence of the man in the great-coat, he did not know -which way to turn. His theories concerning the victories of talent fell -to the ground before the heedless simplicity of his father, who accepted -everything--homage and disdain--with placid gratitude or satirical -amusement. - -At the doors of the palace Michel met Magnani, who was also going away. -But, after walking a few steps, the two young men, revived by the -morning air, determined, instead of going to bed, to skirt the hill and -watch the rising of the sun, which was just beginning to whiten the -sides of Ætna. They paused on a small hill, about the half height of -Ætna itself, and seated themselves on a picturesque spot, having at -their right the Villa Palmarosa, still gleaming with light and echoing -with the strains of the orchestra; on their left the towering cone of -the volcano, with the vast slopes forming an amphitheatre of verdure, -rocks and snow to the summit. It was a strange and superb spectacle. -Everything was ill-defined in that boundless expanse, and the -_piedimonta_ could hardly be distinguished from the upper belt, called -_nemorosa_ or _silvosa_. But while the dawn, reflected in the sea, -suffused the lower portion of the picture with a pale, vague light, the -bold, jagged edges and immaculate snow of the peak were sharply outlined -against the transparent atmosphere of the night, which was still a deep -blue and studded with stars about the giant's head. - -The sublime tranquillity, the imposing serenity of the towering peaks, -presented a marked contrast to the commotion all about the palace. The -music, the shouts of the servants, the rumbling of the carriages, -seemed, in the presence of placid, silent Ætna, a satirical epitome of -human life as compared with the mysterious abyss of eternity. As the -light grew stronger the peaks became less distinct, and the gorgeous -streamer of reddish smoke that had cut the deep blue sky became blue -itself, and wound upward like an azure serpent against an opal -background. - -Then the picture changed, and the contrast was reversed. The commotion -and noise rapidly subsided about the palace, and the horrors of the -volcano became visible; the formidable inequalities of its surface, its -yawning chasms, and all the marks of desolation it had left upon the -soil from its crater to its base, even beyond the point from which -Michel and Magnani were gazing at it, even to the very seashore, where -Catania lies, imprisoned by countless blocks of lava as black as ebony. -That awe-inspiring marvel of nature seemed to be defied and insulted by -the joyous airs which the orchestra was playing, softly now, and by the -fast-dying illuminations which crowned the main façade of the palace. -Now and again the music and the candles seemed to make an effort to -revive. Evidently some indefatigable dancers compelled the musicians to -shake off their torpor. Perhaps the burnt-out candles set fire to their -collars of pink paper. One would have said, watching that brilliant and -echoing structure, that the heedless gayety of youth was struggling -against the prostration of sleep or the languor of sensual desire, while -the undying scourge of that sublime country sent its blazing smoke into -the air, a menace of destruction which could not always be defied with -impunity. - -Michelangelo Lavoratori was absorbed by the spectacle of the volcano, -Magnani's eyes were fixed more frequently on the villa. Suddenly he -uttered an exclamation, and his young friend, following the direction of -his glance, saw a white figure which seemed to be floating in space. It -was a woman walking slowly on the high terrace of the palace. - -"She, too," cried Magnani, involuntarily, "is watching the sun rise over -the mountain. She, too, is musing, and, it may be, sighing!" - -"Who?" queried Michel, whose mind had hardened itself somewhat to eject -its own chimera. "Are your eyes sharp enough to see from here whether it -is Princess Agatha or her maid who is taking the air on the terrace?" - -Magnani hid his face in his hands and made no answer. - -"Come, my friend," said Michel, obeying a sudden inspiration, "be frank -with me. The great lady with whom you are in love is the Princess -Agatha?" - -"Well, why should I not admit it?" rejoined the young mechanic, in a -profoundly sorrowful tone; "it may be that I shall soon repent of having -confided to a child whom I hardly know a secret which I have never -allowed those who should be my best friends to suspect. There must be -some fateful reason for this longing to unbosom myself which has -suddenly drawn me toward you. Perhaps it is the late hour, the fatigue, -the excitement caused by the music and lights and perfumes; I do not -know. Perhaps, rather, it is because I feel that you are the only person -here who is capable of understanding me, and that you are mad enough -yourself not to be too severe upon my madness. Well, yes, I love her! I -fear her, I hate her, and I adore her all at once--that woman who is -unlike all other women, whom no one knows, and whom I do not know -myself." - -"I certainly shall not laugh at you, Magnani; I pity you, I understand -you and I love you, because I think that I can detect a certain -similarity between you and me. I, too, am excited by the perfumes, the -intense brilliancy of that ball, and the noisy dance-music, in which my -imagination detects such an undertone of gloom and melancholy through -its false liveliness. I, too, feel over-excited and a little mad at this -moment. I fancy that there is some deep mystery in our sympathetic -feeling for each other." - -"Because we both love her!" cried Magnani, beside himself. "Why, Michel, -I guessed it from the first glance you bestowed upon her; you, too, love -her! But you are loved by her, or will be, and she will never love me!" - -"Loved, I shall be loved, or am already! What are you saying, Magnani? -you are raving!" - -"Listen to me; I must tell you how this disease took possession of me, -and perhaps you will understand what is taking place in yourself. Five -years ago my mother was ill. The doctor who attended her, for charity's -sake, had almost given her up; her case seemed hopeless. I was sitting -with my face in my hands, weeping bitterly, at the gate of our little -garden, which opens on a street which is almost always deserted, and -which ends in the fields on the outskirts of the town. A woman wrapped -in a cloak passed the gate and stopped: 'Young man,' she said, 'why do -you grieve so? what can I do to lighten your sorrow?'--It was almost -dark and her face was hidden; I could not see her features, and her -voice, which was extremely sweet, was unfamiliar to me. But her -pronunciation and her manner convinced me that she did not belong to our -class. - -"'Signora,' I replied, rising, 'my poor mother is dying. I ought to be -with her, but, as she is fully conscious and I have reached the end of -my courage, I came outside to weep, so that she should not hear me. I am -going back to her, for it is cowardly to weep like this.' - -"'Yes,' she said, 'we must have enough courage to lend some to those who -are struggling in the death agony. Go back to your mother; but tell me -first if all hope is lost? has she no doctor?' - -"'The doctor has not been to-day, and I understand that he can do -nothing more.' - -"She asked me the doctor's name and my mother's, and when I answered, -she said: 'What! has she grown so much worse during the night? he told -me last evening that he still hoped to save her.' - -"These words, which she involuntarily let fall did not lead me to think -that it was the Princess of Palmarosa who was speaking to me. I did not -then know what many people do not know to-day, that that charitable -woman paid several doctors to attend the poor of the city, the suburbs, -and the country; that, without ever appearing in person, unwilling to -receive the reward of her good works in the esteem and gratitude of -others, she gave the most assiduous and careful attention to all the -details of our hardships and our necessities. - -"I was too much engrossed by my grief to pay the same attention to her -words that I afterwards paid to them. I left her; but when I entered my -poor invalid's room, I saw that the veiled lady had followed me. She -approached my mother's bed without speaking, took her hand and held it a -long time, leaned over her, looked into her eyes, listened to her -breathing, and finally said in my ear: 'Young man, your mother is not so -ill as you think. She still has some strength and vitality. The doctor -did wrong to give up hope. I will send him to you and I am sure that he -will save her.' - -"'Who is this woman?' my mother asked in a feeble voice; 'I do not -recognize you, my dear, but I recognize everybody else here.' - -"'I am a neighbor of yours,' replied the princess, 'and I came to tell -you that the doctor is coming soon.' - -"She went out, and my father at once exclaimed: 'That woman is the -Princess Agatha! I recognized her perfectly.' - -"We could not believe my father; we supposed that he was mistaken, but -we did not have time to discuss the question much. Mother said that she -felt better, and the doctor soon arrived, ordered other remedies, and -left us, saying that she was saved. - -"And so she was; and since then she has always insisted that the veiled -lady she saw at her death-bed was her patron saint, who had appeared to -her just as she was praying to her, and that the breath of that blessed -spirit had restored her life as by a miracle. We cannot disabuse my dear -mother's mind of that pious and poetic idea, and my brothers and -sisters, who were children then, share it with her. The doctor always -pretended that he didn't know what we meant when we talked about a woman -in a black _mazzaro_, who had just entered the house and gone out again, -saying that he was coming, and that my mother was saved. - -"They say that the princess requires absolute secrecy from all those -whom she employs in her good works, and indeed they go so far as to say -that her modesty in that respect amounts to a mania. Her secret was kept -for many years; but the truth always comes out at last, and now many -know that she is the hidden providence of the unfortunate. But see the -injustice and absurdity of human judgments! Some of our people declare -that she once committed a crime, and made a vow to atone for it; that -her noble and saintly life is a self-imposed, terrible penance; that in -her heart she hates all mankind so bitterly that she will never exchange -a sympathetic word with those whom she assists; but that the fear of -everlasting punishment impels her to devote her life to works of -charity. Isn't it horrible to form such judgments? And yet that is what -I have heard said, in a very low tone, it is true, by old women who have -called to see my mother in the evening, and it is sometimes repeated by -younger people, who are impressed by these extraordinary conjectures. -For my own part, I was fully convinced that I had not seen a phantom, -and although my father, fearing lest he might lose the princess's -good-will if he betrayed her incognito, dared not repeat that it was she -who had appeared to us, he said it at first so naturally and so -confidently that I could not doubt it. - -"As soon as my mother was convalescent, I went and offered to pay the -doctor for his services; but he refused my money, as did the druggist. -They replied to my questions according to the lesson that had been -taught them, that a secret association of wealthy and devout people paid -them for their trouble and outlay." - - - - -XVI - -CONCLUSION OF MAGNANI'S STORY - - -"My brain began to work," said Magnani, continuing his narrative. "As -the grief that had overwhelmed me gave place to joy, the romantic -portion of my adventure recurred to my memory. The slightest details -stood out distinctly and assumed an intoxicating charm. That woman's -soft voice, her graceful figure, her noble carriage, her white hand, -were constantly in my mind. A ring which she wore, of a curious shape, -had attracted my attention when she felt my poor mother's pulse. - -"I had never entered the Palmarosa palace. It is not open to strangers -or to inquisitive natives, like most of the ancient abodes of our -patricians. The princess has lived in retirement there, hidden from the -world, so to speak, ever since her father's death, receiving very few -visitors, going out only at night, and that very rarely. I had to watch -for an opportunity to see her near at hand, for I was determined to see -her with the eyes which I had for her alone thenceforth. I had never -desired before that time to see her features, and she had shown them so -seldom in ten years that the people of the suburb had forgotten them. -When she rode out the shades were lowered, and when she went to church -her head was completely enveloped in her black mantilla. Indeed, it was -commonly said among us that she had once been very beautiful, but that -she had had a scrofulous eruption on her face which made her so -frightful that she preferred not to show herself. - -"All this was simply vague rumor, for my father and other mechanics whom -she employed laughed at these stories, and declared that she was the -same as always. But my youthful brain was affected, none the less, by -these contradictory reports, and my desire to see that woman was blended -with an indefinable dread which prepared me by slow degrees for the -madness of falling in love with her. - -"One fact in particular added to my ardent longing. My father, who went -often to the palace, as a simple journeyman, to assist the master -upholsterer to hang and drape curtains and the like, refused to take me -there with him, although I was accustomed to go everywhere else with -him. He had often put me off with excuses which I accepted without -examining them; but when my longing to find my way into that sanctuary -became overpowering, he was compelled to admit that the princess did not -like to see young people in her house, and that the master upholsterer -carefully excluded them when he went there with his workmen. This -extraordinary restriction served only to inflame my desire. One morning -I resolutely took my hammer and my apron and entered the Palmarosa -palace, carrying a prie-Dieu covered with velvet, which my father had -just finished in his employer's workshop. I knew that it was made for -Signora Agatha; I consulted nobody, but took possession of it and -started. - -"That was five years ago, Michel! The palace which you see at this -moment, so resplendent, with its doors wide open, and filled with -people, was just the same a month ago as it was at the time of which I -am telling you, just the same as it had then been during the five years -that had passed since she was left an orphan and mistress of her own -life, and as it probably will be again to-morrow. It was a tomb in which -she seemed to have buried herself alive. All the treasures to-day spread -out for everyone to see were buried in darkness under layers of dust, -like relics of the dead in a tomb. Two or three servants, dismal and -silent, walked noiselessly through the long galleries closed to the -sunlight and the outer air. On all sides thick curtains hanging before -the windows, doors which refused to swing on their rusty hinges, an air -of solemn neglect, statues standing erect in the shadow like ghosts, -family portraits that followed you with their eyes with a distrustful -air. I was frightened, and yet I walked on. The house was not so -jealously guarded as I expected. It had invisible sentinels in its -reputation for inhospitable gloom and the dread of its loneliness. I -carried thither the insane audacity of my twenty years, the ill-fated -rashness of a heart enamored in anticipation, and rushing headlong to -its destruction. - -"By a chance which seemed like fatality, I was not questioned by anyone. -The few servants of that dismal abode did not see me, or did not think -of preventing me from proceeding, relying, perhaps, upon some Cerberus -nearer to the person of their mistress, whose duty it was to guard the -door of her apartments, and who, by some miracle, happened not to be -there. - -"Instinct or destiny guided me. I passed through several rooms, I put -aside heavy, dust-covered portières; I passed through one more open -door and found myself in a very richly furnished room, where a -full-length portrait of a man occupied a panel of the wall directly -opposite me. I stopped. That portrait sent a shudder through my veins. I -recognized it from my father's description of the original, whose -character was then a much more common subject of anecdote and gossip -among our people than the peculiarities of the princess. It was the -portrait of Dionigi Palmarosa, Princess Agatha's father, and I must tell -you something of that terrible man, Michel; for it may be that you have -not as yet heard his name in this country, where nobody mentions it -except in fear and trembling. Indeed, I see that I should have mentioned -him to you before, for the hatred and terror which his memory inspires -would have explained to you in some measure the distrust, and even -malevolence with which his daughter, despite all her virtues, is -regarded by some persons of our station in life. - -"Prince Dionigi was a fierce, despotic, cruel and overbearing man. The -pride of birth made him almost insane, and every indication of spirit or -of resistance on the part of his inferiors was punished with incredible -arrogance and severity. Vindictive to excess, he had, it was said, -killed his wife's lover with his own hand, and worried her to death, -poor creature, in a sort of captivity. He was bitterly detested by his -equals, and still more bitterly by the poor, whom he assisted, however, -on occasion, with lordly liberality, but in such a humiliating way that -one felt degraded by his benefactions. - -"Now you will understand better the small degree of sympathy which his -daughter has acquired. It seems to me that the constraint in which she -passed her early youth, under the iron rule of such a detestable father, -may well explain her reserved disposition, and what I may call the -premature withering or repression of her heart. Doubtless she is afraid -of reawakening antipathies connected with the name she bears, by -entering into relations with other people; and if she avoids intercourse -with her fellow men, it is for reasons which should arouse the -compassion and deep interest of fair-minded persons. - -"A single other fact will serve to exhibit Prince Dionigi's disposition. -About fifteen or sixteen years ago, I think--it is all very vague in my -boyish memories,--a young mountaineer in his service, being maddened -beyond endurance by the harshness of his language, ventured, they say, -to shrug his shoulders as he held the stirrup for the prince to dismount -from his horse. He was a worthy, honest fellow, but proud and of violent -temper. The prince struck him a vicious blow. Thereafter they hated each -other intensely, and the groom--his name was Ercolano--left the -Palmarosa palace, saying that he knew the great secret of the family and -that he would soon have his revenge. What was that secret? He had no -time to reveal it, and no one ever knew what he had to reveal; for they -found Ercolano the next morning on the seashore, murdered, with a dagger -bearing the Palmarosa arms in his breast. His relations dared not demand -justice, they were poor!" - -Magnani had reached this point when the white figure they had seen -wandering about the terrace crossed the flower-garden once more and went -inside. Michel shuddered from head to foot. - -"I don't know why your story has such an effect upon me," he said. "I -seem to feel the cold blade of that dagger in my breast. That woman -terrifies me. A strange superstition is creeping into my mind. A person -cannot have a murderer's blood in her veins without having either a -wicked heart or an unhinged mind. Give me a chance to breathe, Magnani, -before you finish your story." - -"The painful emotion that you feel, the dark thoughts that come to your -mind," rejoined Magnani, "all fell to my lot at sight of Dionigi's -portrait; but I passed on and through another door; the staircase -leading to the casino was before me, and I found myself in the -princess's oratory, where I set down the prie-Dieu and looked about me. -No one there! I had no excuse for going farther; the mistress of that -depressing mansion had evidently gone out. So I must needs retire -without seeing her, lose the benefit of my audacity, and perhaps never -again have the courage or the opportunity. - -"It occurred to me to make a noise to attract her attention, in case she -were in the adjoining room; for I was certainly in her apartments, I -could not doubt it. I took my hammer and struck the gilt nails of the -prie-Dieu, as if I were putting the finishing touch to it. - -"My stratagem succeeded.--'Who is there? who is making such a noise?' -said a faint voice, with a pure and distinct enunciation which left no -doubt in my mind of the identity of that voice with that of the -mysterious visitor whose accents had not ceased to echo in my heart like -an ineffably sweet melody. - -"I walked toward a velvet portière and raised it with the determination -born of a last hope. I saw a woman reclining on a couch, in a bedroom -sumptuously furnished in antique style: it was the princess; I had -roused her from her siesta. - -"My appearance terrified her beyond words; she leaped into the middle of -the room as if she would fly. Her lovely face, whose gentle and somewhat -languid serenity I had been able to contemplate with admiration for a -second, was distorted by childish, incredible terror. - -"I hastened to retrace the steps I had taken.--'I beg your excellency -not to be frightened,' I said: 'I am only a poor upholsterer's -apprentice, an awkward lout, ashamed of my mistake. I thought that your -highness was out, and I was working here----' - -"'Go away!' she exclaimed, 'go away!' - -"And with a gesture in which there was more bewilderment and dismay than -sternness and anger, she pointed to the door. - -"I attempted to go, but I seemed to be rooted to the floor as in a -dream. Suddenly I saw the princess, who had risen with extraordinary -vehemence, turn as pale as a lovely lily; her breathing ceased; her head -fell back; her arms dropped at her sides. She would have fallen to the -floor had I not rushed to her and caught her in my arms. - -"She had lost consciousness. I placed her on her couch, I was so -bewildered that it did not occur to me to call for help. Indeed what -would have been the use of ringing? Everybody was asleep or attending to -his special duty in that house, where silence and solitude alone seemed -to be absolute masters. May God forgive me! Twenty times since then I -have been tempted to enter her service as a footman! - -"Oh! Michel, it would be impossible for me to tell you to-day what took -place within me during the two or three minutes that that woman lay -stretched out like a dead woman before my eyes, with her lips as white -and dry as pure wax, her eyes half-open, but strange and expressionless, -her dark hair falling over her brow on which the cold perspiration stood -in beads, and all that exquisite, refined beauty, above all comparison -in my thought. It was not the intoxicating flame of a gross animal -passion that was kindled in my plebeian blood. It was adoration, as pure -and timid and refined and mysterious as the being who inspired it. I -felt an irresistible longing to prostrate myself at the feet of a dead -and gone martyr, for I thought that she was dead, and it seemed as if my -soul were ready to leave the earth with hers. - -"I dared not touch her; I did not know what to do to restore her. I had -no voice with which to call for help. I was motionless in my perplexity, -as one is when struggling violently in a horrible dream. At last a phial -fell under my hand, I know not how. She recovered consciousness little -by little, looked at me without seeing me, not understanding or seeking -to understand who I could be. At last she raised herself on her elbow -and seemed to be collecting her thoughts. - -"'Who are you, my friend?' she said, seeing me on my knees by her side, -'and what do you want? You seem to feel very sorrowful.' - -"'Ah! yes, your highness, God is my witness that I am very unhappy to -have frightened you so.' - -"'You did not frighten me,' she said, with an evident embarrassment -which astonished me. 'Did I cry out?--Ah! yes,' she continued, with a -shudder, yielding once more to an impulse of distrust or alarm.--'I was -asleep; you came in; you frightened me. I do not like to be surprised in -that way. But did I say anything unkind to you, that you weep?' - -"'No, your highness,' I replied; 'you fainted, and I would rather have -died than have caused you this discomfort.' - -"'Am I alone here, pray?' she cried in a tone of distress that tore my -heart. 'Can anybody who pleases enter my apartments and insult me?'--She -rose and ran to her bell-rope. She seemed desperate--beside herself. Her -words and her excitement had affected me so painfully that it did not -occur to me to fly. And yet, if she had rung--if anyone had come--I -should have been treated like a criminal. But she stopped, and the -expression of her face told me the truth at once concerning her -disposition. - -"It was a blending of unhealthy suspicion and sympathetic kindliness. -She had been so wretchedly unhappy in her early youth--so everyone said! -At all events, she could not have been ignorant of her father's -execrable character. She may have witnessed some murder in her -childhood. Who knows what scenes of violence and terror have been -enacted behind the thick walls of that dumb mansion? It was by no means -impossible that she might have acquired therefrom some mental malady of -which I had just witnessed an outbreak; and yet what angelic sweetness -her glance expressed when she dropped the bell-cord, apparently overcome -by my humble attitude and the grief by which I was overwhelmed! - -"'You came in here by chance, did you not?' she said. 'You did not know -that it is a whim of mine not to like new faces; or, if you did know it, -you had the courage to disregard my orders, because you have had some -misfortune which I can lighten? I have seen you somewhere; I have a -vague remembrance of your features. Your name is----?' - -"'Antonio Magnani, your highness. My father works here sometimes.' - -"'I know him; he has some little means. Is he sick? Has he run in debt?' - -"'No, signora,' I replied, 'I do not ask alms, although you are the only -person on earth from whom I could accept alms without blushing. I have -long wished to see you; not to beg from you, but to bless you. You saved -my mother; you encouraged me. You leaned over her pillow; you restored -my hope and her life. That is certain; of course you do not remember it, -but I shall never forget it. May God reward you for what you did for us! -That is all I wanted to say to your highness; and now I will go away, -begging you not to blame anyone, for the fault is entirely mine.' - -"'I will not tell anyone that you came into my house in spite of my -orders,' she said. 'Your employer and your father would reprove you for -it. Nor do you say that you saw me in such a fright. People would say -that I am mad, as they say now, I believe, and I do not much like to -have people talk about me. As for your thanks, I do not deserve them. -You are mistaken; I never did anything for you, my child.' - -"'Oh! I am not mistaken, your highness; I should have known you among a -thousand. The heart has instincts deeper and truer than the senses. You -do not wish your benefactions to be discovered, so I do not speak of -them. I do not intend to thank you for paying the doctor; no, you are -rich, and it is easy for you to give. But you are not obliged to love -and pity those whom you help. And yet you pitied me when you saw me -weeping at the door of the house where my mother lay dying, and you -loved my mother when you leaned over her bed of pain.' - -"'But I tell you again, my child, that I do not know your mother.' - -"'That is possible; but you knew that she was sick. You wished to see -her, and charity was in your very glance--how ardent at that -moment!--since your glance, your voice, your touch, your breath, cured -her as by a miracle. My mother was conscious of it; she remembers it; -she thinks that it was an angel who appeared to her; she addresses her -prayers to you because she thinks that you are in Heaven. But I was sure -that I should find you on earth, and should have an opportunity to thank -you.' - -"Princess Agatha's cold and impassive face relaxed as if involuntarily. -It lighted up for an instant with a warm glow of sympathy, and I saw -that treasures of kindliness were contending in that suffering heart -against a painful misanthropical propensity.--'Well,' she said, with a -divine smile, 'I see, at all events, that you are a good son and adore -your mother. God grant that I may in truth have brought her good -fortune! but I believe that God alone deserves thanks. Thank Him and -worship Him, my child; He alone understands and can relieve certain -sorrows, for men cannot do much for one another. How old are you?' - -"I was twenty at that time. She listened to my reply, and said, looking -at me as if she had not yet noticed my features: 'True, you are older -than I thought. You can come and work here when you choose. I am -accustomed to your face now, and it will not startle me again; but -another time do not wake me suddenly by hammering in my ears in that -way, for I am always depressed and nervous when I wake. That is my -disease!' - -"While she was speaking, and while she looked after me as I walked -toward the door, her eyes expressed this thought: 'I do not offer you my -assistance in life, but I will keep my eye on you, as I do on so many -others, and I will find ways to serve you without your knowledge; and I -will take measures to avoid having to listen to your thanks again.' - -"Yes, Michel, that is what was said by that face, at once angelic and -cold, maternal and unfeeling; a terrible enigma, which I have never been -able to solve, and which I am less able to solve to-day than ever." - - - - -XVII - -THE CYCLAMEN - - -Magnani ceased to speak, and it did not occur to Michel to question him. -But at last the young painter, coming to himself, asked his friend for -the rest of his story. - -"My story is at an end," replied Magnani. "Ever since that day I have -been admitted to the palace as a workman. I have often seen the -princess, but I have never spoken to her." - -"How does it happen, then, that you love her? for you do not know her? -you do not know her real opinions?" - -"I thought that I had guessed them. But, during this last week, when she -has seemed inclined to emerge suddenly from her tomb, throw open her -house, and take part in social life; especially to-day, when she has -been going about and conversing familiarly with people of our station, -with kindly words and cordial invitations--for I overheard the -conversation that you had with her and the Marquis della Serra on the -main staircase; I was close at hand,--I no longer know what to think of -her. Yes, even recently I thought that I had fathomed her character. -Twice a year, in spring and autumn, I have come here with other workmen, -I have seen her pass from time to time, walking slowly, with an -absent-minded, melancholy, yet perfectly tranquil air. If she sometimes -seemed downcast and distressed, the serenity of her glance was not -disturbed. She always bowed to us collectively with greater courtesy -than persons of her rank ordinarily show to us. Sometimes she would -exchange with the master upholsterer or my father a few pleasant words, -equally free from pride and from warmth. She seemed to feel an -instinctive respect for their years. I was the only young workman -admitted to her house, but she never seemed to pay the slightest -attention to me. She did not avoid my glances, but met them without -seeing them. - -"At certain times, however, I noticed that she saw many more things than -she seemed to see; and that people who complained, even when she did not -seem to hear them, obtained justice or help at once, without knowing -whose was the mysterious hand put forth over them. You see, she conceals -her boundless charity as other people conceal their shameful -selfishness. And you ask me how it happens that I love her! Her virtue -arouses my admiration, and the dumb despair which seems to be crushing -her inspires in my heart profound and affectionate compassion. To admire -and to pity--is not that to adore? The pagans, who have left so many -magnificent ruins on our soil, sacrificed to their gods, all radiant -with strength and glory and beauty; but they did not love them; and we -Christians have felt the light of faith pass from our minds into our -hearts, because God was shown to us in the guise of a bleeding, -tear-bedewed Christ. Ah! yes, I do love that woman, who has paled, like -a flower of the woods, beneath the terrible shadow of paternal tyranny. -I do not know the story of her infancy, but I divine the misery of her -girlhood. They say that, when she was fourteen, her father, being unable -to force her to marry in accordance with the views dictated by his pride -and ambition, to which he proposed to sacrifice her, confined her for a -long time in a secluded room of yonder palace, and that she suffered -there from hunger, thirst, heat, neglect, and despair. Nothing definite -has ever been known about it. Another version of the story also gained -currency; it was said that she was in a convent; but the terror-stricken -air of her servants said plainly enough that her disappearance was a -part of some unjust and unnatural punishment. - -"When Dionigi died, his heiress reappeared in the palace, with an old -aunt who was little better than he, but who allowed her to breathe a -little more freely. They say that at that time again she had several -brilliant offers of marriage, but that she obstinately refused, thereby -much angering the princess, her aunt. Her death put an end at last to -her niece's persecutions, and at the age of twenty she found herself -alone and free in the house of her fathers. But it was evidently too -late for her to rouse from the state of prostration to which so much -sorrow had brought her. She had lost the strength and the desire to be -happy. She was torpid, a little inclined to be morose, and seemingly -incapable of inviting the affection of others. She gained the affection, -however, of some persons of her own rank, and it is certain that the -Marquis della Serra, whom she refused to marry when he entered the lists -several years ago, has never ceased to love her ardently. Everybody says -so, and I know it; I will tell you how. - -"Although I pride myself, without undue boasting, on being a good -workman, I confess that when I am in the palace, I am, in spite of -myself, the slowest of the slow. I am excited and perturbed. The ring of -the hammers irritates my nerves, as if I were a silly girl; I am -overcome by the heat at the slightest exertion with my arms. Every -moment of the time I either have a feeling that I am going to faint, or -am tempted to creep into dark corners, crouch there out of sight, and -allow myself to be left behind. I surprise myself listening, prowling, -spying. I no longer dare to go into the princess's oratory or her -bedroom alone. Oh! no; although I know the road perfectly well. My -respect is stronger now than my insane and restless passion! But if I -can breathe the perfume that escapes through the chinks of the door of -her boudoir; if I can hear, even at a distance, the sound of her light -footsteps, which I know so well--then I am content, I am drunk with joy. - -"Thus I have heard, I dare not say involuntarily--for if chance placed -me within earshot, my will was not strong enough to prevent me from -listening,--more than one interview between the princess and the -marquis. How often have I been consumed by frantic jealousy? but I have -acquired certain knowledge that he is only her friend, a loyal, -respectful, submissive friend. - -"One day, among others, they had a conversation, every word of which, I -believe, is engraved with fatal distinctness on my memory. - -"The princess was saying when I entered the adjoining room: - -"'Oh! why question me so persistently? You know, my friend, that I am -absurdly impressionable; that the thought of the past freezes my blood, -and that, if I could make up my mind to speak of it--I believe, yes, I -believe that I should go mad!' - -"'Very well, very well,' he cried, 'let us not speak of it, let us be -content with our tranquil friendship. Look at that lovely sky and those -sweet cyclamens, which seem to smile in your hands.' - -"'These flowers do not smile,' she replied, 'you do not understand their -language, and I can tell you why I love them. It is because they are in -my eyes the emblem of my life and the image of my heart. See how -curiously limp they are; they are pure and fresh and fragrant; but is -there not something unhealthy and decrepit in the inversion and -unnatural upturning of their petals?' - -"'It is true,' said the marquis, 'they have a sort of dishevelled look; -they grow as a general rule on windswept peaks. One would say that they -were trying to fly away from their stalks as if there were nothing to -hold them, and that nature had provided them with wings like -butterflies.' - -"'And yet they do not fly away,' continued the princess; 'they are -firmly attached to their stalks. Although apparently fragile, there are -no hardier plants, and the most violent winds never strip them of their -petals. While the rose succumbs to a hot day, and strews the burning -earth with its leaves, the cyclamen is obstinate, and lives many days -and nights in retirement, and, as it were, shrunken into itself: it is a -flower that has no youth. You probably have never seen it just as it is -opening. I have patiently watched that mysterious process; when the bud -opens, the petals are rolled tightly together and separate with an -effort. The first one that frees itself stretches out like a bird's -wing, then throws itself backward and resumes its twisted position. -Another follows, and the flower, almost before it is open, is already -tremulous and wrinkled, as if it were about to die of old age. That is -its way of living, and it lives a long while so. Ah! it is a melancholy -flower, and that is why I carry it everywhere.' - -"'No, no, it does not resemble you,' said the marquis, 'for its -uncovered breast exhales its fragrance freely to all the winds of -heaven, whereas your heart is mysteriously closed, even to the most -discreet and least exacting affection!' - -"They were interrupted; but I knew enough. Ever since that day, I too -have loved the cyclamen, and I always cultivate it in my little garden; -but I dare not pluck the flowers and smell them. Their odor makes me ill -and drives me mad!" - -"It is the same with me," said Michel. "Yes, it is a dangerous odor! But -I no longer hear the carriages, Magnani. Doubtless the palace will soon -be closed. I must go and join my father, for he must be tired out, -whatever he may say, and he may need my help." - -They walked in the direction of the ball-room. It was deserted; Visconti -and his fellow-servants were extinguishing the candles which were still -carrying on the struggle against the daylight. - -"Why this fête after all?" said Magnani, as he glanced about that -immense hall, whose height seemed to be doubled by the darkness -overhead, while the bluish rays of dawn crept sadly into the lower -portions through the open doors. "The princess might have helped the -poor in other ways, and I cannot yet understand why she submitted to -make this public demonstration of charity when she had always done good -so mysteriously hitherto. What miraculous change has taken place in our -reserved benefactress's existence? Instead of rejoicing at it, I, -although I would give my life for her, am hurt by it, and cannot think -of it without bitterness. I loved her as she was; I cannot understand -her when she is cured, consoled, and effusive. Is everybody to know her -and to love her now? People will no longer say that she is mad, that she -once committed a crime, that she is concealing a horrible secret, that -she is ransoming her soul by pious works, although she detests mankind! -Madman that I am! I am afraid of being cured myself, and I am jealous of -the happiness that she may have recovered! Tell me, Michel, do you -suppose that she has made up her mind to love the Marquis della Serra, -and that she will invite the court, the city, and the country, to -celebrate her betrothal magnificently under her own roof? She gave a -royal fête to-day; perhaps she will give a popular fête to-morrow. She -is making her peace with everybody; great and small will make merry at -her wedding! Ah! there will be dancing there! what fun for us, eh? and -how kind the princess is!" - -Michel remarked his companion's bitterness and irony; but although he -was conscious of a thrill of strange emotion at the idea of Agatha's -marriage to the marquis, he put all the more restraint upon himself. He, -too, had been struck to the heart, but the shock was too recent for him -to dare, or to deign, to give the name of love to his feeling. Magnani's -madness served as a warning to him. He pitied him, but there seemed to -him to be in that young man's abnormal position something humiliating to -which he did not choose to subject himself. - -"Come to your senses, my friend," he said. "Such a beautiful fête, at -night, has a tendency to excite one, especially when one is only a -spectator. But here comes the sun above the horizon, and it should -dispel all phantoms and all visions. I feel as if I had just waked from -a fantastic dream. Listen! The birds are singing outside; there is -nothing here but dust and smoke. I am very sure that your madness is not -so absorbing every hour of your life as you fancy at this moment of -excitement and unreserve. I will wager that when you have slept two -hours you will return to your work feeling like a different man. For my -part, I already feel the salutary effect of real life, and I promise you -that the next time we see the spectre pass close to us, I will not try -to dispute her glance with you." - -"Her glance!" cried Magnani, bitterly, "her glance! Ah! you remind me of -the glance she bestowed upon you, before the ball opened, the first time -she saw your face. My God! what an expression! If it had fallen upon me, -just once in my life, I would have killed myself instantly, in order not -to live any more upon certainty and cold reason, after such an illusion, -such delirious joy. And you, Michel, felt the consuming fire that she -communicated to you. You were scorched by it for an instant, and, but -for my mockery, you would still gloat over it with rapture. But what -does it matter to me now? I see clearly that she has lost her mind; that -she has deprived her solitary sorrow of its sanctity; that she loves -someone, you or the marquis--what matter which? Why this special display -of friendship for your father, whom she hardly knew a year ago? My -father has worked for her ever since she was born, and she barely knows -his name. Does she propose to cap the climax of her eccentric life by an -act of downright insanity? Does she propose to atone for her father's -tyranny and unpopularity by marrying a child of the people--a mere boy?" - -"You are the one who is mad," said Michel, disturbed and almost angry. -"Go and get a breath of fresh air, Magnani, and don't involve me in the -vagaries that your excitement suggests to you. Signora Agatha is -sleeping peacefully at this moment, remembering neither your name nor -mine. If she honored me with a kindly glance, it was because she loves -painting and is pleased with my work.--Look, my friend," added the young -artist, pointing to the figures of his fresco, upon which a rosy beam of -the morning sun shone through the open windows. "There are the only -intoxicating realities of my life. Let the lovely princess marry the -Marquis della Serra. I shall be very glad; he is a courteous gentleman, -and I like his face. I, when I choose, will paint a more perfect and -less problematical divinity than the pale-cheeked Agatha." - -"You, wretched boy? Never!" exclaimed Magnani, indignantly. - -"I agree that she is beautiful," rejoined Michel, with a smile. "I have -scrutinized her, and I have profited by that scrutiny. I have obtained -from her all that I should never ask her for, the spectacle of her grace -and her charms, to reproduce them and idealize them at my pleasure." - -"I have always been told that artists had hearts of ice," said Magnani, -staring at Michel in blank amazement. "You have seen the storm which -drives me wild, and you remain cold--you laugh at me! Ah! I blush to -think that I have betrayed my madness to you, and I am going away to -hide my head!" - -Magnani disappeared, frantic with excitement, and Michel was left alone -in the almost deserted ball-room. Visconti was extinguishing the last -candles, and Pier-Angelo, before taking his leave, was assisting to -restore order temporarily in that structure which was to be entirely -removed before evening. - -Michel also assisted, but languidly. His own reflections having cooled -his excitement, he felt utterly exhausted, mentally and physically. - -Magnani's abrupt outbreak disturbed him. He reproached himself because, -after undergoing in silence the rebound of the young mechanic's -agitation, he had not succeeded better in sympathizing with his trouble, -but had allowed him to go away uncomforted. On the other hand, he could -not avoid a slight feeling of irritation. It seemed to him that Magnani -had carried his effusiveness too far in seeking to convince him that he, -Michel, was the object of a sudden passion on the part of the princess. -It was so absurd, so improbable, that Michel, who was more -self-possessed, more of a man of the world at eighteen than Magnani -could ever be, shrugged his shoulders pityingly. - -And yet, self-esteem is such a persistent and impertinent adviser that -Michel now and again heard a voice within him saying: "Magnani has -guessed aright. Jealousy gives him a keenness of vision which you -yourself have not. Agatha loves you; she took fire at first sight. And -why should she not love you?" - -Michel was intoxicated and abashed at once by these flushes of vanity -which rose to his cheeks. He was in haste to return home and recover his -tranquillity altogether with sleep. And yet he desired to wait for his -father, who was still at work, zealous and indefatigable, attending to a -thousand minute details, a thousand apparently unnecessary precautions. - -"Patience!" said the excellent Pier-Angelo. "I shall have finished in a -minute; but I want our dear princess to be able to sleep in peace, and I -don't propose that anybody shall come here and make a racket before -to-night. Above all things, I don't propose to leave a single candle -lighted in any corner. Now is the time when there is most danger of -fire! Look! that idiot of a Visconti has left the lamp in the grotto -burning; I can see it from here. Go and put it out, Michel, and take -care not to spill oil on the couch." - -Michel went into the grotto of the naiad; but, before extinguishing the -lamp, he could not resist the temptation to gaze for a moment at the -beautiful statue, the lovely foliage with which he had decorated it, and -the couch whereon he had seen Agatha as in a dream. "How young she -looked and how lovely she was!" he thought; "and how that man who loves -her gazed at her, with an adoration which betrayed itself in spite of -him, and which infected the most immaterial portion of my heart! I -noticed others during the ball who stared at her with an insolence born -of desire, which made my whole being quiver with indignation! All these -great nobles love her, each in his own way, and she loves no one of -them!" - -And Agatha's glance passed through his memory like a lightning-flash, -its dazzling brilliancy putting to flight all reason, all fear of -ridicule, all self-distrust. - -While musing thus, he had extinguished the lamp, and had sunk upon the -cushions of the divan, expecting that his father would call him and that -he might enjoy one last moment of comfort before leaving that -fascinating grotto. - -But fatigue overpowered him. He could contend no longer against the -chimeras of his imagination. Half-reclining comfortably on the couch, -and alone for the first time in twenty-four hours, he rapidly lost -consciousness. For one moment he dreamed with his eyes open. The next -moment he was sleeping soundly. - - - - -XVIII - -THE MONKS - - -How many minutes,--or was it seconds only?--passed while Michel was -overpowered by that irresistible lassitude, he had no idea. The power of -the imagination, when transported into the domain of dreams, travels so -fast and surmounts so many obstacles at a single bound, that time is an -inadequate measure of it, especially in the first sleep. - -Michel had a strange dream. A woman softly entered the grotto, walked to -where he sat, leaned over him and gazed at him for a long time; he felt -her fragrant breath caress his brow, he fancied that he felt also the -fire of her glance fastened passionately upon him. But he could not see -her, for it was dark in the grotto, and, moreover, it was impossible for -him to raise his heavy eyelids; but it was Agatha; Michel's heart, -inflamed by that woman's presence, told him so plainly enough. - -At last, as he tried to rouse himself in order to speak to her, she -placed her cool, soft lips on his forehead and imprinted a kiss thereon, -so long, but so light, that he could not summon the strength to reply to -it, overcome as he was by joy, and at the same time by the fear that it -was only a dream. - -"But it is a dream, alas! it is nothing but a dream," he said to -himself, still sleeping; and yet the fear of waking caused him to wake. -So it is that, in sleep, the instinctive, frantic desire to prolong the -illusion causes it to vanish more quickly. - -But what a strange and persistent dream! Michel, with his eyes open, -sitting half erect, supported by his trembling arm, saw and heard that -woman fly. The curtain at the entrance of the grotto being lowered, he -could distinguish only an indistinct figure; he felt the touch of a silk -dress; the curtain opened and closed again so quickly that it seemed to -him that the phantom passed through without touching it. - -He started to follow her; but all his blood rushed back to his heart so -violently that he could not stand erect, but was compelled to fall back -on the divan, and it was a full minute before he was able to rush to the -blue velvet portière that separated him from the ball-room. - -He drew it aside with a convulsive gesture and found himself face to -face with his father, who said, with a jocose and placid air: - -"So it seems that we have been having a nap, eh, my boy? Now, everything -is in order; let us go home and see if little Mila is awake." - -"Mila?" cried Michel, "is Mila here, father?" - -"It may well be that she isn't far away," replied the old man. "I'll bet -that she hasn't closed her eyes all night; she was so anxious to come to -see the ball! But I forbade her to leave the house before daylight." - -"It is daylight now," said Michel, "and Mila is probably here! Tell me, -father, did some woman, my sister, perhaps, just come into the grotto?" - -"Did you dream it? I saw no one. To be sure, my eyes weren't looking in -that direction all the time, and I saw some striped skirts prowling -about outside, which meant that some curious creatures had stolen into -the garden. Can Mila have come in while my back was turned?" - -"Why, this very instant, father, just as you came to the opening, -someone went out, a woman; I am certain of it!" - -"You are talking at random now, for I saw nothing but my shadow on the -curtain. Come, you need a good nap, let us go home. They are just -closing the last door. If your sister is here we shall find her." - -Michel was about to follow his father; but as he was turning away he saw -something glistening in the grotto and was led to cast a last glance -inside. Was it a spark that had fallen on the carpet, near the couch? He -stooped: it was a piece of jewelry, which he picked up and examined by -daylight. It was the gold locket, surrounded with diamonds and bearing -the princess's crest, which she had given Mila. He opened it to make -sure that it was the same. He recognized a lock of his own hair inside. - -"I knew that Mila came into the grotto," he said to his father, as they -walked toward the garden; "she gave me a kiss which woke me." - -"She evidently must have gone in there," rejoined Pier-Angelo, -indifferently; "but I didn't see her." - -At that instant Mila emerged from a clump of magnolias, and came -forward, laughing and capering, to meet her father, whom she kissed -affectionately, as she did Michel. - -"It is high time for you to come home and rest," she said; "I came to -tell you that your breakfast is waiting. I was so impatient to see you! -Are you terribly tired, father, dear?" - -"Not at all," the good man replied, "I am used to these things, and a -sleepless night is all pleasure when you sup till morning. Your -breakfast will go begging, Mila; but your brother here is asleep on his -legs. Come, children; let us be off; see, they are closing the garden -gates now." - -But, instead of continuing to close the gates, the servants suddenly -threw them wide open again, and Michel saw a procession of monks file -in, monks of divers orders, all carrying wallets and purses; they were -the begging brothers of all the mendicant orders, which have numerous -establishments in Catania and its neighborhood. They were making their -usual round and had come to collect for their respective communities the -broken meat left from the fête. Some two score of them passed slowly -through the gate; most of them had asses to carry away the avails of -their quest. There was something so surprising and comical in their -obsequious manner and their solemn bearing when they entered the -gardens, escorted by their asses,--strange guests at a ball--that -Michel, diverted from his emotion, had much ado to keep from laughing. - -But no sooner were they fairly inside the gates than they broke ranks, -and, shaking off their consequential, discreet manner, began to run -toward the ball-room, each striving to outstrip his neighbors, beating -their asses to make them move faster, hurrying, jostling, and freely -exhibiting their greed and their jealousy. They overran the ball-room, -almost breaking down the fragile doors, and attempted to ascend the main -staircase of the peristyle, or to force their way into the kitchens. But -the butler and his _officers_, being prepared for the assault, and -knowing their ways, had carefully barricaded all the issues; they -brought forth the fragments destined for the monks, and distributed them -as impartially as possible. There were dishes of meat, remnants of -pastry, pitchers of wine, and even pieces of glass and porcelain which -had been broken during the fête, and which the good monks put together -with great care and mended most skilfully, for the adornment of their -own sideboards, or to sell to collectors. They quarrelled over the booty -with little decency, reviled the servants for not giving them all that -they were entitled to, for treating one better than another, for failing -in respect for the patron saints of their convents. They even threatened -them with the infirmities which those saints were supposed to be -especially skilful in curing when the afflicted person had acquired -their good-will. - -"Bah! what a miserable ham you have given me!" cried one. "You are -already deaf in one ear; you can depend upon it that before long you -will not be able to hear the thunder with the other." - - -[Illustration: _AFTER THE FÊTE._ - -"_Here's a bottle half empty!" cried another. -"No prayers will be said for you under our roof, -and you'll never be cured of the stone, if you take -that terrible disease._"] - - -"Here's a bottle half empty!" cried another. "No prayers will be said -for you under our roof, and you'll never be cured of the stone, if you -take that terrible disease." - -Others plied their trade gayly, with jests that made the distributors -laugh, and they showed so much wit and good-nature that the servants -secretly slipped the best pieces into their wallets. - -At Rome Michel had seen dandified Capuchins, redolent with perfume under -their frocks, and displaying their sandals, with poetic gravity, in -close proximity to the Holy Father's consecrated slipper. The -poverty-stricken Sicilian monks seemed to him very indecent, very -laughable, and ever so little cynical, when they swooped down upon the -crumbs of that feast like a flock of greedy crows and chattering -magpies. He was attracted, however, by the high-spirited and intelligent -faces of some of them. It was the Sicilian common people again, in the -sack-cloth of the cloister--a noble race which bends beneath the yoke -but cannot be broken. - -The young artist had returned to the ball-room to look on at this -curious spectacle, and he watched its various incidents with the -attention of a painter who turns everything to his own profit. He -noticed especially one of the monks, whose hood was pulled down to the -end of his beard, and who did not beg. He kept apart from the others, -and walked about the room as if he were more interested in the place -where the fête had been given than in the possible benefit he might -derive from it. Michel tried several times to see his features, and to -judge therefrom whether the intelligent mind of an artist or the regrets -of a man of the world were concealed beneath that monkish garb. He saw -him stealthily put aside his hood but once, and then he was impressed by -his repulsive ugliness. At the same instant the monk turned his eyes -upon him with an expression of malevolent curiosity; and instantly -looked away as if he feared to be surprised staring at other people. - -"I have seen that ugly face somewhere," said Michel to his sister, who -was standing by his side. - -"Do you call that a face?" replied the girl. "I saw nothing but a goat's -beard, the eyes of an owl, and a nose that looked like an old crushed -fig. You won't paint his portrait, I hope?" - -"You said just now, Mila, that you knew several of these monks from -having seen them begging in our suburb; have you ever met that fellow?" - -"I don't think so; but, if you are anxious to find out his name, it will -be very easy, for here is a brother who will tell me." - -And the girl ran to meet a monk who was the last to arrive, without a -wallet, and without an ass, but with a little purse simply. He was a -tall, handsome man, of uncertain age; his beard was still as black as -ebony, although his crown of hair was beginning to turn gray. The -keenness of his black eyes, the noble contour of his aquiline nose, and -the smile that played about his red lips, indicated robust health, -conjoined with an amiable and decided character. He had neither the -unhealthy thinness nor the absurd obesity of most of his brethren. His -chestnut-colored frock was neat and clean, and he wore it with a -majestic air. He won Michel's confidence at the first glance; but it -angered the young man to see Mila almost throw her arms about the -Capuchin's neck, and take his beard in her two little hands, laughing -and pretending that she proposed to kiss him whether he would or not. - -"Come, come, little one, softly, softly," said the monk, pushing her -away with fatherly gentleness. "No matter if I am your uncle, a monk -musn't be kissed." - -Thereupon, Michel bethought him of the Capuchin Paolo-Angelo, of whom -his father had so often spoken to him, and whom he had never seen. _Fra -Angelo_ was Pier-Angelo's brother in affection not less than by birth. -He was the youngest of Michel's uncles. His intellect and the dignity of -his character made him the pride of the family, and as soon as -Pier-Angelo saw him, he ran to Michel to introduce him. - -"Brother," said the old decorator, pressing the Capuchin's hand warmly, -"give my son your blessing; I should have brought him to your convent to -ask it before this if we had not been employed here a little beyond our -strength." - -"My child," said Fra Angelo to his nephew, "I give you the blessing of a -kinsman and a friend; I am happy to see you, and your face pleases me." - -"I can say the same," replied Michel, putting his hand in his uncle's. - -But, to manifest his affection, the good monk, who had the muscles of an -athlete, squeezed his fingers so hard that the young man thought for a -moment that the bones were broken. He did not wish to let it appear that -that caress was a little too rough; but the perspiration stood out on -his forehead, and he said to himself with a smile, that a man of the -build of his uncle, the Capuchin, was better adapted to demand alms than -to beg. - -But, as strength and gentleness almost always go hand in hand, Fra -Angelo approached the distributor of alms with a self-restraint and -reserve as marked as the eagerness and persistence of his fellows. He -saluted him with a smile, opened his purse without deigning to put out -his hand, and closed it without looking to see what had been put in it, -muttering a very laconic sentence of thanks; after which he returned to -his brother and nephew, refusing to burden himself with provisions of -any sort. - -"In that case," said a very pious footman, "you have not enough money!" - -"Do you think so?" rejoined the monk. "I have no idea. However little it -may be, the convent must needs be satisfied with it." - -"Do you wish me to go and demand more for you, my brother? If you will -promise to pray for me every day this week, I will make them give you -more." - -"Oh! don't take that trouble," replied the dignified Capuchin, with a -smile; "I will pray for you _gratis_, and my prayers will be worth all -the more. Your mistress, Princess Agatha, gives enough in charity, and I -come to her house only in obedience to my orders." - -"Uncle," said little Mila, in an undertone, "there is a brother of your -order yonder, whose face puzzles my father and brother. They think that -he looks like somebody else." - -"Somebody else? Whom do you mean?" - -"Look at him," said Pier-Angelo. "Michel is right, he has a bad face. -You must know him. He is standing all alone, over there under the -musicians' platform." - -"So far as his figure and his carriage are concerned, I don't recognize -him as any brother of our convent. And yet he wears the frock of a -Capuchin. But why does he interest you?" - -"Because it seems to us," said Pier, lowering his voice, "that he -resembles Abbé Ninfo." - -"In that case, off with you," said Fra Angelo, hastily. "I will go and -speak to him, and I will soon find out who he is and what he is here -for." - -"Yes, yes, let us go," said Pier-Angelo. "Go first, children. I will -follow you." - -Michel put his sister's arm through his, and they were soon on the way -to Catania. - -"It seems that this Abbé Ninfo wishes us ill," said Mila to her -brother, "and has the power to injure us. Do you know why, Michel?" - -"Not very well; but I am suspicious of a man who disguises himself, -apparently for the purpose of spying. Whether we are concerned or -somebody else, mystery conceals evil projects." - -"Psha!" said the heedless Mila, after a moment's silence, "perhaps he is -only a monk, like the rest. He stood apart and lurked in corners, as -some of them often do after the crowd has passed, on days of processions -or feast-days, to see if they can't find some jewel that somebody has -lost. Then they pick it up without a word and carry it to their convent, -to be surrendered to its owner in consideration of a round sum for one -or two masses, or to be used in unearthing some love secret; for these -good fathers are very inquisitive, as a general rule!" - -"You don't love the monks, do you, Mila? You are only half a Sicilian?" - -"That depends. I love my uncle and those who are like him." - -"By the way," said Michel, reminded by the words _lost jewel_ of the -adventure which the Capuchins had driven from his mind; "you had been in -the ball-room, hadn't you, a moment before I met you in the garden?" - -"No," she replied; "if you had not taken me in with you to watch the -monks beg, I never should have dreamed of going in. Why do you ask me -that? I saw the ball-room all finished before the fête. What do I care -to see an empty room where no one is dancing? It was the ball, the -dancing, the dresses, that I wanted to see! But you wouldn't take me -even as far as the door last night!" - -"Why not tell me the truth when the matter is of no importance? There is -nothing out of the way, my dear little sister, in your having come to -the naiad's grotto to wake me just now." - -"Father says that you are asleep on your legs, Michel, and I see that he -is quite right. I will take my oath that since yesterday morning, when I -brought you the leaves you asked me to pick, I have not been inside the -grotto." - -"Ah! Mila, this is too much. You used not to tell falsehoods, and I am -sorry to see that you have that wretched habit now." - -"Hush, brother, you insult me," said Mila, proudly withdrawing her arm. -"I have never lied, and I shall not begin to-day, just to please you." - -"Little sister," rejoined Michel, walking after her and quickening his -pace to keep up with her, for she was hurrying on ahead, hurt and -grieved, "will you please show me the locket Princess Agatha gave you?" - -"No, Master Michelangelo," retorted the girl, "you are not worthy to -look at it. In the days when I cut a lock of your hair to wear upon my -heart, you were not unkind as you have become since." - -"If I were in your place," said Michel, ironically, "I would take the -locket from my bosom and throw it in the face of the unkind brother who -teases me so!" - -"Here! take it!" said Mila, pulling the locket from her bosom, and -handing it to Michel with an angry gesture; "you can take back your -hair, I don't care for it any longer. But return me the locket; I care -for that because it was given me by somebody kinder than you." - -"Two lockets just alike!" said Michel to himself, placing them side by -side in his hand; "is this the sequel of my vision?" - - - - -XIX - -YOUTHFUL LOVES - - -Michel dared not ask his sister for the explanation of such a prodigy. -He ran and shut himself up in his little room, and, seating himself upon -his bed, instead of going to sleep, he opened and compared those two -precisely similar trinkets and their contents. They were absolutely -indistinguishable, as were the two locks of hair; so that, after Michel -had examined and handled them a long while, he no longer knew which -belonged to his sister. Thereupon he recalled a remark of hers, which -had made little impression upon him, although it had seemed somewhat -strange to him for an instant. Mila declared that the lock of hair she -had entrusted to the princess had diminished by one half in the -jeweller's hands. - -It was not possible to explain that curious fact. The princess did not -know Michel, she had never seen him; he had not returned to Catania when -she had taken Mila's scapulary and exchanged it for this beautiful -locket. It is difficult to believe that a woman can fall in love with a -man simply at sight of a lock of his hair. Michel cudgeled his brains to -no purpose. He could think of no explanation save this, which was far -from satisfactory to his intense curiosity: perhaps the princess had at -some time been attached to someone whose hair was of precisely the same -shade and texture as Michel's. She wore it in a locket. Observing Mila's -fervent adoration of that relic of her brother, she had ordered a locket -just like her own, and had given it to her. - -But how impossible are the probabilities of life to a mind of eighteen -years! Michel thought it much more probable that he had been loved -unseen; and when he was overcome by sleep, the two lockets were still in -his half-open hand. - -When he awoke about noon, he found only one of them; the other had -probably fallen among the bedclothes. He pulled his bed to pieces and -turned it upside down; passed an hour searching in all the cracks of his -floor, and all the folds of his clothes, which lay on a chair by his -pillow. One of the two talismans had disappeared. - -"This is a trick of Signorina Mila," he thought. His door closed with a -latch only, and the girl was singing over her work in the room -adjoining. - -"Ah! you are up at last!" she said with a pout, when he appeared in her -presence. "That is very lucky! Now will you kindly return my locket?" - -"I should say, my dear, that you came and took it while I was asleep." - -"Why, you have it in your hand!" she cried, seizing his hand -unexpectedly. "Come, open your fingers, or I will prick them with my -needle." - -"I will do it," he said, "but this locket isn't yours. You have already -taken the one that belongs to you." - -"Really!" said Mila, snatching the trinket from her brother's hand, for -he made little resistance, but watched her closely; "this is not mine? -Do you think I can be mistaken?" - -"In that case you have the other, Mila." - -"What other? Have you one also? I don't know anything about that; but -this is mine. Here is the princess's crest. It is my property; it is my -souvenir. Take back your hair. If we are at odds, I am willing you -should; but this locket shall never leave me again." - -And she replaced it in her bosom, by no means resolved to take out the -hair, for which she cared more than she chose to admit in her childish -wrath. - -Michel returned to his room. The other locket must be there. There was -so much candor and confidence in Mila's expression and her words! But he -found nothing, and so he determined to search his sister's room as soon -as she had gone out. Meanwhile, he tried to make peace with her. He -coaxed and cajoled her, and, vowing that all that had happened was only -a jest on his part, reproached her with being proud and sensitive. - -Mila consented to make peace and to kiss her brother; but she continued -to be somewhat downcast, and her lovely cheeks were tinged with a less -delicate flush than usual. - -"You chose a bad time to tease me," she said. "There are days when one -does not feel in the mood to endure raillery, and I thought that you -were teasing me on purpose to make sport of my disappointment." - -"Your disappointment, Mila!" cried Michel, pressing her to his heart -with a smile. "Have you been disappointed? Because you didn't see the -ball last night, I suppose? Oh! you are a very unfortunate little girl, -and no mistake!" - -"In the first place, Michel, I am not a little girl. I shall soon be -fifteen, and I am old enough to have disappointments. As for the ball, I -cared very little about it; and now that it's over, I don't think about -it at all." - -"What is this great sorrow, then? Do you want a new dress?" - -"No." - -"Your nightingale isn't dead?" - -"Don't you hear him singing?" - -"Perhaps our neighbor Magnani's big tom-cat has eaten up your -turtle-dove?" - -"I would like to see him try it! I tell you that I don't bother my head -about Signor Magnani or his cat." - -The tone in which she uttered Magnani's name made Michel prick up his -ears, and, upon glancing at his little sister's face, he saw that she -had her eyes fixed, not upon her work--although her head was bent--but -upon a wooden gallery where Magnani usually worked, opposite Mila's -chamber. At that moment Magnani was walking along his gallery. He did -not look at Mila's window, and Mila did not look at her work. - -"Mila, my darling child," said Michel, taking both her hands and kissing -them, "do you see that young man with the absent-minded air?" - -"Well," Mila replied, as the blood came and went in her cheeks, "what -about him?" - -"I want to tell you, my child, that if your heart is ever inclined to -love, you must not think of that young man." - -"What nonsense!" said the girl, shaking her head and trying hard to -laugh. "He is the last man of whom I should ever think, I tell you -that!" - -"Then you will be exceedingly wise," rejoined Michel, "for Magnani's -heart is not free; he has long been in love with another woman." - -"That doesn't concern me, and is of no possible interest to me," said -Mila; and, bending over her work, she turned her wheel swiftly. But -Michel was pained to see two great tears fall upon her skein of silk. - -Michel's heart was very tender. He understood the feeling of shame by -which his young sister was overwhelmed, and which added a fresh pang to -those from which he himself was suffering. He saw the superhuman efforts -that the poor child made to stifle her sobs and overcome her confusion. -He felt that that was not the moment to humiliate her more by insisting -upon an explanation. - -So he pretended to see nothing; and, thinking that he would reason with -her when she was more self-possessed, he left the room where she was -working. - -But he was so excited himself that he could not stay in his own room. He -made one last, fruitless search, and, abandoning the hope of finding the -vanished talisman,--hoping that it would appear when he was not thinking -about it, as often happens in the case of lost articles,--he determined -to go and see Magnani and make peace with him; for they had parted in -anger, and Michel, unable to avoid a secret feeling of pride in the -thought that the princess was madly in love with him, felt that his -generous solicitude for his unfortunate rival redoubled. - -He crossed the yard and entered Magnani's father's workroom on the -ground floor. But he looked in vain for Antonio in his room. His old -mother told him that he had gone out a moment before; but could not tell -him in what direction he had gone. Michel thereupon strolled into the -country, half thinking of overtaking him, half absorbed by his own -musings. - -Meanwhile Magnani, impelled by the same feelings of loyalty and regard, -had determined to go and see Michel. His modest dwelling had a second -exit, and the one that he took led less directly, through a dark and -narrow passage at the rear of the other two houses, to the poor, -old-fashioned house which Pier-Angelo occupied with his children. - -Thus the two young men did not meet. Magnani went upstairs and looked -into a large, bare, dilapidated room, where he saw Pier-Angelo stretched -out on his cot-bed, in a deep sleep which the emotions of love and youth -no longer disturbed. - -Thereupon Magnani climbed the staircase, or rather the ladder leading to -the attics, and entered Michel's chamber, which adjoined Mila's. - -Michel's door was open; Magnani went in, and, finding no one there, was -about to go out again, when the cyclamen, which Michel had carefully -placed in an old Venetian glass of curious workmanship, caught his eye. -Unquestionably Magnani was the soul of probity, the incarnation of -scrupulous honor; and yet it is not certain that, if he had dreamed that -that flower had fallen from the princess's bouquet, he would not have -stolen it. But it did not occur to him; he concluded simply that Michel, -like himself, had a passion for the cyclamen. - -Suddenly Magnani was roused from his contemplation by a sound which -startled him. Somebody was weeping in the adjoining room. He heard sobs, -stifled but heart-rending, behind the partition, not far from the door -between the two rooms. Magnani was well aware that Mila lived on that -floor. He had often nodded to her smilingly from his gallery, when he -saw her, blooming with youth and beauty, at her window. But, as she had -made no impression on his heart, and as he had never spoken to her -except as to a child, he did not consider at that moment the exact -location of her attic, nor indeed did he think of her at all. To be sure -there was nothing masculine in her manner of weeping, but in Michel's -voice there were some tones so youthful and so soft that it might well -be he who was mourning so. Magnani thought only of his young comrade, -and, full of solicitude for him, hastily opened the door and entered -Mila's room. - -At sight of him the girl uttered a loud shriek and fled to the farthest -corner of her room, hiding her face. - -"Mila, my dear little neighbor," cried honest Magnani, standing -respectfully near the door, "forgive me, do not be afraid of me; I made -a mistake, I heard someone weeping as if his heart would break, and I -thought it was your brother. I didn't stop to think, but rushed in here, -in my anxiety--but, great heaven, my dear child, why are you weeping -so?" - -"I am not weeping," replied Mila, stealthily wiping her eyes, and -pretending to look for something in an old chest of drawers against the -wall; "you are entirely mistaken. I thank you, Signor Magnani; but leave -me, you ought not to come into my room like this." - -"True, true, I know it, I am going away, Mila; and yet I don't dare to -leave you thus, you are too much overcome, I can see. I am afraid you -are sick. Let me go and wake your father, so that he can come and -comfort you." - -"No, no! do not think of it! I don't want you to wake him!" - -"But, my dear ----" - -"No, I tell you, Magnani; you would make me much worse if you should -cause my father that trouble." - -"But what is the matter, Mila? Your father has not been scolding you, -has he? You never deserve to be scolded! And he is so kind, so gentle, -he loves you so dearly!" - -"Oh! no, indeed, he never said a word to me except words of love and -kindness. You see that you are dreaming, Magnani; I have no sorrow, I -was not weeping." - -"Why, I can see from here that your face is swollen and your eyes red, -my dear girl. What heart-breaking grief can one have at your age, -lovely, and beloved by all, as you are?" - -"Don't laugh at me, I beg you," said Mila, proudly. But she turned pale, -and trying to sit down calmly, fell sobbing upon her chair. - -Magnani had so little suspicion that he could possibly be anything more -than a friend in her eyes, and his feeling for her was so placid that he -no longer thought of leaving her. He approached her without any other -emotion than affectionate interest, sat down at her feet on a cushion of -plaited straw, and, taking her hand in his, questioned her with an -assumption of something like paternal authority. - -Poor Mila was so perturbed that she had not the strength to repel him. -It was the first time that he had ever spoken to her so near and with -such evident affection. Oh! how happy she would have been but for the -fatal words that Michel had said to her! But those words were still -ringing in her ears, and Mila was too proud to allow her secret to be -suspected. She made a mighty effort, and answered with a smile that her -trouble was a matter of little importance, and was due simply to a -little quarrel she had had with her brother. - -"Michel quarrel with you, my poor angel?" said Magnani, watching her -carefully; "is it possible? Oh! no! you are mistaken. Michel loves you -more than all the world, and he is quite right. If you had quarreled, he -would be here, as I am, at your feet, and much more eloquent than I to -comfort you; for he is your brother, and I am only your friend. But, -however that may be, I am going to find him; I will scold him roundly, -if he is in the wrong. But it will be enough for him to see you cast -down and changed as you are, to make him much unhappier than you." - -"Magnani," said Mila, detaining him as he rose, "I forbid you to go and -find Michel. That would be giving too much importance to a piece of -childish folly. Pay no more attention to it, and do not speak of it to -him or to my father. I assure you that I have already forgotten it, and -that my brother and I will be entirely reconciled to-night." - -"If it is only a childish quarrel," said Magnani, sitting down beside -her, "why, your susceptibilities are altogether too keen, my dear Mila. -I have sisters too, and when I was not so sensible as I am now, when I -was Michel's age, I used to tease them a little. But they didn't cry; -they paid back my mischief with interest, and I always came out second -best." - -"That was because they had spirit, and apparently I haven't enough to -defend myself," replied Mila, sadly. - -"You have a great deal of spirit, Mila, I have noticed that; you are not -Pier-Angelo's daughter and Michel's sister for nothing, and you have a -better education than the other young women of your station. But you -have more heart than spirit, since you can defend yourself only with -your tears!" - -Magnani's praise comforted and pained the girl at the same time. She was -flattered to find that, while not seeming to pay any heed to her, he had -observed her closely enough to be able to do her justice. But the -tranquil kindliness of his manner told her plainly enough that Michel -had not deceived her. - - - - -XX - -BEL PASSO AND MAL PASSO - - -Suddenly Mila formed a firm resolution; for, as Magnani had truly said, -she was superior to most of the young girls of her class in education, -and Pier-Angelo had cultivated in her mind ideas as noble as his own. -She had, in addition, a tincture of youthful enthusiasm, blended with -the habit of courage and self-sacrifice, which her good taste and -ingenuousness led her to conceal beneath apparent heedlessness. It is -the acme of stoicism to be able to sacrifice oneself with a smile on -one's face, and with no outward indication of suffering. - -"My dear Magnani," she said, rising with her accustomed serenity of -expression, "I thank you for your friendly interest in me; you have done -me good, and I feel perfectly calm. Let me work now, for I didn't do my -_day's work_ in the night, as you did; I must do my stint and earn my -wages. Go away, so that people may not say that I am lazy, and that I -waste my time chattering with the neighbors." - -"Good-bye, Mila," replied the young man. "I pray God to restore your -peace of mind to-day, and to make you happy all the days of your life." - -"Thanks, Magnani," said Mila, offering him her hand. "I rely upon your -friendship from this day." - -The air of noble resolution with which that girl, so crushed by grief a -moment before, offered him her hand, and the tone in which she -pronounced the word friendship, like an heroic farewell to all her -illusions, were not understood by Magnani; and yet there was in that -gesture and that tone something that moved him deeply, although he could -not guess the cause. Mila was transformed before him in the twinkling of -an eye; she no longer seemed a charming child, she was serious and -beautiful as a woman. - -He took that little hand in his hard and powerful one, which did not -hesitate to seal the friendly compact by a fraternal grasp, but which -trembled suddenly at the touch of a hand as soft and dainty as a -princess's; for Mila was very careful of her person, and knew how to be -at once industrious and refined in her occupations. - -Magnani fancied that he held Agatha's hand, which, by a strange caprice -of fortune, he had touched once in his life. He felt a sudden wave of -emotion, and drew Pier-Angelo's daughter to his heart as if to give her -a brotherly kiss. He dared not do it; but she offered her forehead -innocently, saying to herself that it would be the first and the last, -and that she would cherish its memory as the symbol of an everlasting -farewell to all her hopes. - -Magnani had been living for five years under a self-imposed law of -absolute chastity. It was as if he had taken an oath to imitate Agatha's -exceptionally austere mode of life, and, engrossed by a fixed idea, had -determined to waste away by slow degrees, knowing naught of love or -marriage. He had never kissed a woman, not even his sisters, since he -had carried in his heart that chimera of a hopeless passion. It may be -that he had made a vow to that effect in some moment of painful -agitation. But he forgot that grim vow when he felt young Mila's lovely -dark head resting trustfully against his breast. He gazed at her for an -instant, and those limpid black eyes, in which there was an expression -of grief and courage which he could not understand, cast him into a sort -of delirium of surprise and passion. His lips did not touch Mila's brow; -they turned away trembling from her bright red lips, and rested upon her -soft brown neck, perhaps a second or two longer than was absolutely -necessary to cement a bond of fraternity. - -Mila turned pale, her eyes closed, and a sorrowful sigh escaped from her -broken heart. Magnani, shocked beyond measure, placed her upon a chair -and fled, overwhelmed with dismay, astonishment, and, perhaps, remorse. - -Mila, being left alone, was very near fainting; she staggered to the -door and bolted it; then she knelt on the floor beside her bed, hid her -face in her hands, and remained there absorbed by her suffering. But she -had ceased to weep, and grief gave place to an excitement instinct with -strenuous and ardent aspirations. Pier-Angelo's optimism, that faith in -destiny which is a sort of superstition in stout hearts, awoke within -her. She rose, rearranged her hair, looked in her mirror, and said -aloud, as she resumed her work: - -"I don't know why, nor when, nor how, but he shall love me; I have a -right to desire it, I do desire it, and God will assist me!" - -When Michel returned, he found her tranquil and lovely, gazing intently -at a copy of the _Virgin of the Chair_, which he had made for her with -much care, and which she had hung, not in her alcove, but above her -mirror. He congratulated himself that he had allowed her to give way -freely to her first outburst of grief, and that she had recovered her -strength of will in her solitary meditation. He almost reached her side -before she heard him; but she saw his face in the glass as he leaned -over her to kiss her on the neck. - -"Kiss me there," she said, offering him her cheek, "but never on my -neck!" - -"Why that prohibition for your brother, little madcap?" - -"It is a whim of mine," she said. "You are beginning to have a beard and -I don't want you to scratch my skin." - -"Ah! you flatter me exceedingly," laughed Michel; "that fear does too -much honor to my budding moustache! I had no idea that it could frighten -anybody as yet! But do you care less for the smoothness of your cheek -than of your pretty neck, little Mila? Is that because you have just -been admiring this beautiful Madonna's neck?" - -"Perhaps so!" she said. "It is very beautiful, really, and I would like -to resemble that face in every feature." - -"I should judge that you were making the attempt before your mirror. -These are very profane ideas to indulge in before that holy image!" - -"No, Michel," replied Mila, gravely. "There is nothing profane in my -conception of her beauty. I have never understood it as I have to-day, -and I fancied that no one had ever been able to create so beautiful a -face as Princess Agatha's. But I see now that Raphael went farther. He -gave his Madonna more strength of character, if not more tranquillity. -That divine face is intensely alive; it has a great deal of will; it is -sure of itself. She is the most virtuous, but, also, the most loving of -women. She seems to say: 'Love me because I love you.'" - -"Well, well, Mila, where did you find that?" cried Michel, looking at -his sister in surprise. "I fancied I was dreaming as I listened to you!" - -The conversation of the two children was interrupted by the arrival of -their father. He came to suggest to Michel that they should go and -demolish the ball-room. All the workmen who had taken part in building -it had agreed to meet at three o'clock in the afternoon, to rid the -palace of that temporary structure. - -"I know," said Pier-Angelo, "that the princess is anxious to preserve -your frescoes on canvas, and I want you to help me roll them up and -carry them safely to one of the galleries of the palace." - -Michel followed his father, but they were no sooner outside the city -than the old man stopped. - -"My boy," he said, "I am going to the villa alone, for I must talk a -moment with the princess about that infernal abbé, who disguises -himself as a monk to spy upon something or somebody in her house. Do you -walk about two miles to the northwest, following the path that begins -here, and turning neither to right nor left. In an hour you will reach -the Capuchin convent of Bel Passo, where your uncle Fra Angelo told me -that he would wait for you till sunset. He has satisfied himself that -the suspicious monk whom we pointed out to him was no other than Ninfo, -and, without deigning to inform me what he supposes his designs to be, -he told me that he wished to have a serious talk with you. I suspect -that your uncle knows more than we do about the cardinal's condition and -the abbé's plans; but he is a man of sense and foresight. He has -probably made inquiries during the morning, and I shall be very glad to -have his opinion." - -Michel followed the path, and, after an hour's walk through the most -beautiful country that the mind can conceive, he reached the gate of his -uncle's convent. - -This convent was situated on a hill above a small village in the -cultivated district, gay with flowers and dotted with country houses, -which lies at the foot of Ætna. The building was sheltered by the great -trunks of venerable trees, and the garden, exposed to the African sun, -commanded a magnificent view bounded by the sea. - -This romantic spot, strewn with formidable masses of lava, bore two -names which had been given it in turn, and which, in view of the -uncertainty as to which it was more likely to retain, were bestowed upon -it indifferently at the time of which we write. The location being -superb, the soil fertile, and the climate mild and agreeable, it had -been called on general principles _Bel Passo_. Then had come the -terrible eruptions of Ætna and Monte-Rosso, which had overwhelmed and -ruined it; whereupon it had been christened _Mal Passo_. Then, as time -passed on, the village and convent were rebuilt, the lava broken up, -cultivation resumed, and they gradually reverted to the original -complimentary name. But these two contrasting designations were still -confused in the memories and the customs of the people. The old men, who -had seen their country in its primitive splendor, said _Bel Passo_, as -did the children, who had seen it only after it had emerged from chaos, -and had been restored to life, as it were. But the men who had seen the -spectacle of the catastrophe and experienced its disastrous results in -their early years--who had had no other cradle than toil and terror, and -were just beginning to obtain some result from their labors--called it -_Mal Passo_ more frequently than _Bel Passo_. - -For a very long time that gorge had changed its name thus, twice or -thrice in a century, according to circumstances; an example of the -heedless courage of the human race, which builds its nest beside the -broken branch, and continues to love and beautify and sing the praises -of the domain which it has with difficulty reconquered from the tempests -of yesterday. - -However, this spot afforded equal justification for both of the names -which disputed possession of it. It was an epitome of all the horrors -and all the charms of nature. Where the river of fire had poured its -destructive waves, the ridges of lava, the gray wastes of slag, the -ruins of the former soil, upturned, flooded or baked, recalled the evil -days, when the population was reduced to begging, and wives and mothers -were in mourning; Niobe changed to stone at the sight of her murdered -children. But near at hand old fig-trees, reanimated by the passage of -the flame, had put forth new branches, and strewed with their succulent -fruit the new grass and the worn-out soil, newly steeped in the most -generous juices. - -Everything that did not lie directly in the path of the molten -lava--everything that was saved by an inequality of the ground--had -benefited by the destruction that had passed so near. So it is with -mankind, and death everywhere makes room for life. Michel noticed that, -in some places, one of two twin trees had disappeared as if carried away -by a cannon-ball, and displayed its charred stump beside the proud trunk -which seemed to tower triumphantly over its ruins. - -He found his uncle occupied in breaking away the rock to enlarge a bed -planted with flourishing vegetables. The garden had been dug out of -solid lava. The paths were covered with mosaics of enamelled porcelain, -and the beds of vegetables and flowers, cut from the very heart of the -rock, and made of earth brought from elsewhere, resembled gigantic boxes -buried to the edges. To make the resemblance more striking, between the -beds and the porcelain paths they had left the black lava, as it were a -border of box or thyme, and at each corner of the beds it had been -fashioned into a ball, the sacramental ornament of our orange-tree -boxes. - -It will be seen, therefore, that nothing could be neater or more ugly, -more symmetrical or more depressing, in a word, more monastical than -that garden, an object of pride and affection to the good monks. But the -beauty of the flowers, the splendor of the bunches of grapes which -enveloped heavy pillars of lava, the soft murmur of the fountain, which -sent forth a thousand silvery threads to refresh each plant in its rocky -cell, and above all, the view from that terrace with its southern -exposure, afforded ample compensation for the melancholy effect of such -hard and patient toil. - -Fra Angelo, armed with an iron sledge hammer, had removed his frock in -order to be more free in his movements. Clad only in a short brown -jacket, he displayed the mighty muscles of his hairy arms in the -sunlight, and at every blow that he dealt the rocky mass, shivering it -into fragments, he gave a sort of savage grunt. But, when he saw the -young artist, he drew himself up and showed a mild and serene -countenance. - -"You come just in time, young man," he said. "I was thinking about you, -and I have many questions to ask you." - -"I thought, uncle, that you had, on the contrary, many things to tell -me." - -"Yes, doubtless I should have, if I knew what sort of man you are; but, -except for the tie of relationship that unites us, you are a stranger to -me; and, whatever your father may say, blinded perhaps by his affection, -I do not know whether you are really a man. What do you think of the -position in which you find yourself?" - -"To avoid my having to answer your questions by asking others, you would -do well, perhaps, my dear uncle, to put them clearly in the first -instance. When I know what my position is, I shall be able to tell you -what I think of it." - -"Then you know nothing of the secrets in which you are concerned?" said -the Capuchin, examining Michel with a stern and searching gaze; "you -have not even a suspicion of them? You have never guessed anything? -Nobody has ever told you anything?" - -"I know that my father was involved in a political conspiracy long ago, -about the time of my birth, I think. But at that time I was quite unable -to decide whether he was in the right or in the wrong. Since then he has -never explained his position to me in that respect." - -"He lacks confidence in you, then, or you take little interest in his -welfare?" - -"I have questioned him at times; he has always answered evasively. I -have never drawn therefrom, as you do, uncle, the conclusion that he -distrusted me; that would have seemed impossible to me; but I have -always thought that, having really had a hand in the business, he was -bound by oaths, as is the case in all secret societies. So I should have -thought that I failed in the respect I owe him, if I had questioned him -farther." - -"That is well said; but does it not conceal a profound indifference -touching the affairs of your native country, and a selfish disregard of -the sacred cause of its liberty?" - -Michel was a little embarrassed by this question, so concisely put. - -"Come," continued Fra Angelo, "answer without fear, I am only asking for -the truth." - -"Very well, I will answer you, uncle," said Michel, meeting the monk's -cold glance, which distressed him in spite of himself, for he would have -liked to have the regard of that man, whose face, voice, and bearing -commanded his respect and sympathy. "I will tell you what I think, since -you wish to know it, and also what I am, at the risk of losing your -good-will. Convince me that the cause of liberty, so far as Italy and -Sicily are concerned, is really the cause of the men who are deprived of -liberty, and you will see that I will devote myself to it, I do not say -with enthusiasm, but with frantic zeal. But alas! hitherto I have always -seen men sacrifice themselves simply to change masters, while the noble -and wealthy classes used them for their own profit, in the name of this -or that idea. That is why, while I am not indifferent to the spectacle -of the misery and oppression of my fellow-countrymen, I have never -chosen to conspire under the auspices and for the benefit of the -patricians, who are so eager in inciting us to conspire." - -"O mankind! O mankind! _everyone for himself_ will always be your -motto!" cried the Capuchin, springing to his feet as if beside himself -with indignation; then, resuming his seat with a strange and bitter -laugh, he added, looking at Michel with an ironical expression: "Signor -prince, _excellenza_, you are pleased to make sport of us, I judge!" - - - - -XXI - -FRA ANGELO - - -The Capuchin's strange outbreak caused Michel the most profound -embarrassment; but, being determined to maintain his independence and -sincerity, he affected a tranquillity which he did not feel. - -"Why do you call me _prince_ and _excellenza_, my dear uncle?" he said, -forcing himself to smile; "is it because I spoke like a patrician?" - -"Precisely; every one for himself, I tell you!" replied Fra Angelo, -resuming his melancholy gravity. "If that is the spirit of the age which -you have been studying at Rome, if that is the new philosophy upon which -the young men in other lands are fed, we have not seen the end of our -misfortunes, and we can continue to tell our beads in silence. Alas! -alas! here is a fine state of affairs! the children of our people will -not stir for fear of saving their former masters with them, and the -patricians will not dare to lift a finger for fear of being devoured by -their former slaves! God save the mark! Meanwhile, the foreign tyranny -laughs and grows fat upon our spoils; our mothers and sisters ask alms -or prostitute themselves; our brothers and our friends die on dung-heaps -or on the gallows! It is a noble spectacle, and I am amazed, -Michelangelo, that you came from Rome, where you had before your eyes -naught but the splendors of the Holy See and the masterpieces of art, to -contemplate our poor Sicily, with her population of beggars, her ruined -nobles, her lazy or brutalized monks! Why did you not take a pleasure -trip to Naples? you would have seen wealthier nobles there and a more -opulent government, made so by the taxes which are causing us to die of -starvation; a more tranquil people, who worry but little over the fate -of their neighbors. 'What do we care for Sicily? it is a conquered -country and its people are not our brothers.'--That is what they say at -Naples. Go to Palermo, where they will tell you that Catania is not to -be pitied and can save itself unassisted, with its silk worms. Go to -Messina, where they will tell you that Messina is no part of Sicily, and -that they have no use for its bad counsels and its evil spirit. Go to -France; the newspapers there say every day that pious, cowardly peoples -like us deserve their fate. Go to Ireland; they will tell you that they -want no help from the heretics of France. Go everywhere, and everywhere -you will find yourself well abreast of the ideas of your time; for -people will say to you everywhere what you just said: 'Everyone for -himself!'" - -Fra Angelo's words, his tone and his countenance made a deep impression -upon Michel, and he was honest enough to confess it to himself at once. -The artistic chord was struck, and what would have seemed to him in any -other man mere sophistry and declamation, seemed simple and mighty in -the mouth of that monk. - -"My father," he said with ingenuous candor, "it may be that you are -right to scold me as you do. I have no idea at all; and yet I might -offer, in defence of my scepticism, many arguments which come and go in -my mind as I listen to you. It does not seem to me that I am as wicked -and as contemptible as you think. But with you I am much more eager to -improve myself than to defend myself. Please go on." - -"Yes, yes, I understand," rejoined Fra Angelo, proudly. "You are a -painter, and you are studying me; that is all. This language seems -strange to you in the mouth of a monk, and you are thinking of nothing -but the picture you will paint of St. John preaching in the wilderness!" - -"Do not laugh at me, I entreat you, uncle; you do not need to do it to -show me that you have more wit and learning than I. You chose to -question me; I told you my thought honestly. I hate oppression, whether -it appears in the shape of the past or the present. I should not like to -be the mere instrument of another man's passions and to sacrifice my -future as an artist to the reconstruction of the fortunes and honors of -a few great families who are naturally ungrateful and instinctively -despotic. I believe that a revolution in such a country as ours would -have no other result. I feel that I am man enough to take a gun to -defend my father's life and my sister's honor. But, when it comes to -joining some mysterious society, whose members act with their eyes -closed, and see neither the hand that guides them nor the goal toward -which they are proceeding--unless you can prove to me forcibly and -convincingly that it is my duty--I will not do it, though you were to -curse me, my dear uncle, or to make sport of me, which is much worse." - -"What makes you think that I want you to join anything of that sort?" -said Fra Angelo, with a shrug. "I admire your distrustful nature. I like -to see that your first feeling with regard to your father's brother is -the fear of being tricked by him. I wanted to know you, young man, and I -am very much cast down by what I know of you." - -"What do you know of me, pray?" cried Michel, testily. "Come, try me in -proper form, and let me know what my crimes are." - -"Your whole crime consists in not being the man you should be," replied -Fra Angelo; "and that is very unfortunate for us." - -"I understand no better." - -"I know that you cannot understand what I am thinking at this moment! -otherwise you would not have spoken so before me." - -"In heaven's name, explain yourself," said Michel, unable to endure -these attacks any longer. "It seems to me that we are fighting a duel in -the darkness. I cannot parry your blows, and I apparently strike you -when I am trying to defend myself. With what do you reproach me, or what -do you ask of me? If I am a man of my time and of my class, is it my -fault? I have just stepped foot for the first time on this island -devoted to the worship of the past. I am not an atheist, but I am not -pious. I do not believe in the superiority of certain classes, nor in -the necessary inferiority of my own. I do not feel that I am the born -servant of the old patricians, the old prejudices, and the old -institutions of my native land. I place myself on a level with the -haughtiest and most venerated heads, in order to pass judgment on them, -so that I may know whether I should bend my head before true merit, or -protect myself against unwarranted prestige. That is the whole of it, -uncle, I give you my word. Now you know me. I admire what is noble, -great and sincere before God. My heart is susceptible of affection and -my mind prostrates itself before virtue. I love art, and I am ambitious -of renown, I agree; but I love serious art and seek pure renown. I will -not sacrifice any one of my duties to them; but I will not accept false -duties, and I will spurn false principles. Am I a miserable wretch for -that? and must I, in order to have the honor of being a true Sicilian, -become a monk in your convent, or a brigand on the mountain?" - -Michel's spirited outburst did not displease the Capuchin. He listened -to it with interest, and his face softened. But the young man's last -words produced the effect of an electric shock upon him. He leaped up -from his bench, and seizing Michel's arm with that herculean strength of -which he had given him a specimen in the morning, exclaimed: "What is -that metaphor? What are you talking about?" - -But, observing Michel's air of stupefaction at this new outbreak, he -began to laugh: "Well, even if you do know it--even if your father has -told you--what does it matter? Other people know it, and I am none the -worse off. Well, my child, you have unconsciously used a very powerful -illustration; it was what one might call the marrow of the truth. All -men are not made to be fed upon it; there are milder and more digestible -truths which suffice for the majority. But to those who desire to be -absolutely logical in their opinions and their acts, what seems to you a -paradox is the merest commonplace. You look at me in amazement? I tell -you that you did, without knowing it, speak like an oracle when you said -that, in order to have the honor of being a true Sicilian, one must be a -monk in my convent, or a brigand on the mountain. I should prefer that -you would be one or the other, rather than a cosmopolitan artist as you -aspire to be. Listen to a story, and try to understand it: - -"There was once in Sicily a poor devil, but blessed with a vivid -imagination and a certain amount of courage, who, being unable to endure -the disasters by which his country was overwhelmed, took his gun one -fine morning and went into the mountains, resolved to lose his own life, -or to destroy one by one as many of the enemy as possible, pending the -day when he could fall upon them in a body with the outlaws whom he -joined. They formed a large and select band. Their leader was a noble, -the last descendant of one of the greatest families of the -country--Prince Cæsar de Castro-Reale. Remember that name. You may -never have heard it, but a time will come when it will have more -interest for you. - -"In the woods and mountains the prince had taken the name of -_Destatore_,[1] by which name he was known, loved, and feared for ten -years, nobody suspecting that he was the young and brilliant nobleman -who had run through his fortune at Palermo, and led a most dissipated -life with his friends and mistresses. - -"Before speaking of the poor devil who turned brigand from patriotic -despair, I must say a few words of the noble patrician who had become a -leader of brigands for the same reason. It will assist you to a -knowledge of your country and your countrymen. _Il Destatore_ was a man -of thirty years, handsome, well-educated, lovable, brave and -generous,--he had all the characteristics of a hero; but he was -persecuted and crushed by the Neapolitan government, who detested him -particularly because of the influence he exerted over the common people. -He resolved to put an end to the life he was leading, to consume the -balance of his fortune, which was reduced every day by taxes to the -profit of the enemy; in short, to drown his sorrow in drunkenness, and -to kill himself or brutalize himself in debauchery. - -"He succeeded only in ruining himself. His robust health withstood all -sorts of excess, his sorrow survived his dissipation, and when he found -that, instead of falling asleep, he became intensely excited in his -cups, that a frantic rage took possession of him, and that it would be -necessary for him to run a sword through his body, or, as he said, to -eat à la Neapolitan, he disappeared and became a bandit. He was -supposed to have been drowned, and his inheritance never caused his -nephews any great embarrassment or afforded much profit to the -authorities. - -"Thereafter he was a tiger, a devouring lion, who spread terror through -the country districts and avenged his fatherland in the bloodiest way. -The poor devil whom I mentioned at the outset of my story became -passionately attached to him, and served him with fanatical loyalty. He -never stopped to think whether he was _worshipping the past_, or bending -the knee to a man who deemed himself superior to him, but who was only -his equal before God; whether he was fighting and risking his life for -the benefit of a _master_, who might prove to be _ungrateful and -despotic_; whether, after destroying the foreign tyranny, as they hoped -to do, they would fall again under the yoke of the _old prejudices_, the -_old abuses_, the nobles, and the monks. No, all those shades of -distrust were too subtle for such a straightforward and simple mind as -his. To beg would have seemed a degradation to him in those days; and as -for work! why he had never done anything in his life but work, and work -zealously, for he loved work, and was not afraid of it. But I do not -know whether you have noticed as yet that in Sicily every man does not -work who wants to. Although we have the richest and most fertile soil in -the world, taxation has destroyed commerce, agriculture, all the -industries and all the arts. The man of whom I speak had sought the -hardest, roughest, varieties of labor in the salt marshes, in the mines, -even in the very bowels of the earth, which, on the surface, was -devastated and neglected. Work was lacking everywhere, and all the -enterprises in which he had been employed being abandoned, one after -another, he was reduced to begging alms of his fellows who were as badly -off as he, or to stealing. He preferred to _take_ openly. - -"But in the _Destatore's_ band they took with discernment and justice. -They maltreated and held to ransom none but enemies of the country or -traitors. They had a secret understanding with every well-meaning or -unfortunate man. They hoped to form a party large enough to attempt to -seize one of the three principal cities, Palermo, Catania, or Messina. - -"But Palermo, before placing confidence in us, demanded that we should -be led by a noble; and as the _Destatore_ was supposed to be an -adventurer of low birth, he was rejected. If he had told his true name, -it would have been worse. He was execrated throughout the country for -his previous conduct, and that was a difficulty for which he could blame -no one but himself. - -"At Messina our proposals were rejected, on the plea that the Neapolitan -government had done great things for the commerce of that city, and -that, all things considered, peace at any price, with flourishing trade -and the hope of growing rich, was preferable to a patriotic war with -confusion and anarchy. At Catania they told us that they could not do -anything without the concurrence of Messina, and would not do anything -without that of Palermo. In fact they definitely refused to assist us in -any way; and, after putting us off from year to year, they informed us -that the trade of brigand had gone out of fashion, and that it was very -bad taste to persist in it when we could sell out to the government and -make our fortunes in its service. They forgot to add, it is true, that, -in order to resume his place in society, it would have been necessary -for the Prince of Castro-Reale to become the enemy of his country and -accept some military or civil post, the duties of which consisted in -dispersing insurrections with cannon, and in pursuing, denouncing, and -hanging his old comrades. - -"The _Destatore_, seeing that his mission was at an end, and that, in -order to live by his gun, he must thenceforth prey upon his -fellow-countrymen, fell into a state of profound depression. Wandering -among the wildest ravines on the island, and making bold forays, -sometimes to the very gates of the cities, he lived for a time upon -foreign travellers who were rash enough to visit the island. That trade -was not worthy of him, for those foreigners were, for the most part, -entirely free from blame for our ills, and so utterly incapable of -defending themselves, that it was a pity to rob them. The brave fellows -who followed him were disgusted with such wretched business, and every -day brought its quota of desertions. To be sure those scrupulous fellows -did worse when they left him; for some, being frowned upon everywhere, -relapsed into idleness and poverty; others were forced to join the -forces of the government, who considered them good soldiers, and made -gendarmes and spies of them. - -"Thus there remained with the _Destatore_ only the more determined -malefactors, who robbed and murdered, without scrutiny, everyone who -came in their way. A single one was still honest, and refused to take -part in this highwayman's business. It was the poor devil whose story I -am telling you. Nor on the other hand would he leave his unfortunate -captain; he loved him, and his heart was broken at the idea of -abandoning him to traitors who would murder him some fine morning when -they had no one to rob, or would force him into useless crimes for their -own gratification. - -"The _Destatore_ did full justice to his poor friend's devotion. He had -appointed him his lieutenant--an absurd title in a band which now -consisted of only a handful of knaves. He still allowed him to tell him -the truth sometimes, and to give him good advice; but as a general rule -he drove him away angrily, for the leader's temper became more and more -soured from day to day, and the savage virtues which he had acquired in -the days of enthusiasm and gallant exploits gave way to the vices of the -past, children of despair, ill-omened guests which resumed possession of -his storm-beaten soul. - -"Drunkenness and lust took possession of him, as in the early days of -idleness and discouragement. He fell below himself, and one day--an -accursed day, which will never be blotted from my memory--he committed a -terrible crime, a dastardly, detestable crime! If I had witnessed it, I -would have killed him on the spot. But the _Destatore's_ last remaining -friend did not learn of it until the next day; and on that next day he -left him, after bitterly upbraiding him for his infamy. - -"Thereupon that poor devil, having no one to love, and being unable to -do anything for his unhappy country, began to wonder what was going to -become of him. His heart, still ardent and youthful, turned toward -religion, and being of the opinion that an honest monk, thoroughly -imbued with the ideas of the Bible, might do a good work, preach virtue -to the powerful, give instruction and assistance to the poor and the -ignorant, he assumed the frock of a Capuchin, received the lesser -orders, and retired to this convent. He accepted the duty of mendicancy -imposed upon his order, as an expiation of his sins, and found it -preferable to pillage, in that he applied thereafter to the rich in -behalf of the poor, without violence and without cunning. It is inferior -in a certain sense; it is less sure and less expeditious. But, all -things considered, a man who wants to do the greatest possible amount of -good should be a brigand in his youth; and he who simply wants to do the -least possible harm should be a monk in his old age: you said so -yourself. - -"There is my story; do you understand it?" - -"Perfectly, uncle; it is very interesting indeed, and, in my eyes, the -principal hero of the romance is not the Prince of Castro-Reale, but the -monk who is speaking to me." - - -[Footnote 1: He who slumbers not.] - - - - -XXII - -THE FIRST STEP ON THE MOUNTAIN - - -Fra Angelo and his nephew were silent for a few moments. The monk was -absorbed by the bitter yet glorious memories of his younger days. Michel -gazed at him with delight; and, no longer wondering at the martial air -and muscular strength concealed beneath the frock, mused with the -admiration of an artist upon the strange poesy of that life of devotion -to a single idea. If there was something abnormal and, to a certain -extent, entertaining in the history of the Capuchin, who still boasted -of his life as a bandit and seriously regretted it, there was something -truly noble in the way in which the ex-brigand preserved his individual -dignity, compromised as it had been in such extraordinary adventures. -Dagger or crucifix in hand, slaying traitors in the forest or begging -for the poor at the gates of palaces, he was always the same, proud, -ingenuous, unbending in his ideas, seeking to do good by the most -vigorous methods, detesting cowardly acts with such intensity that he -was still quite capable of punishing them with his own hand, utterly -unable to understand the selfish motives by which the world is governed, -or to believe that any man would not be ready at any moment to attempt -the impossible rather than palter with the expedients suggested by cold -circumspection. - -"Why do you admire the secondary hero of my story?" he said to his -nephew when he emerged from his reverie. "Self-sacrifice and patriotism -must amount to something in your eyes, for that man had no other motive, -and, in the present state of society, would have been only a poor -fool--perhaps a lunatic." - -"Yes, uncle, sincere devotion and the sacrifice of one's whole -individuality to an idea are noble things, and if I had known you in -those days--if I had been a man grown--I should probably have followed -you into the mountains. I might have been less devotedly attached than -you were to the Prince of Castro-Reale, but I trust I should have had -the same illusions and the same love for the cause of my country." - -"Really, young man?" said Fra Angelo, fixing his penetrating eyes upon -Michel's face. - -"Really, uncle," the young man replied, proudly raising his head, and -sustaining that searching glance with the assurance of conviction. - -"And is it too late now to attempt anything, my poor boy?" said Fra -Angelo, with a sigh. "Has the time passed when we can believe in the -triumph of the truth, and is the new society, which I have had no better -chance to study in my cloister than in my bandit's cave, determined to -allow itself to be crushed forever?" - -"I hope not, uncle. If I thought so, it seems to me that I should no -longer have any blood in my veins, inspiration in my brain, or love in -my bosom, and that I should no longer be capable of being an artist. But -still we must recognize the fact that society is not what it must have -been in this island at the beginning of your enterprise. Even if it has -taken some steps toward intellectual discoveries, it is certain that the -impulses of the heart have lost their energy." - -"And you call that progress?" exclaimed the Capuchin, sorrowfully. - -"No, far from it," Michel replied; "but how can those who are born -during this state of society breathe any other air than that in which -they were born, or entertain other ideas than those which have been -forced into them? Must we not yield to the evidence, and bend our necks -to the yoke of reality? Did not you yourself, my excellent uncle, when -you passed from the exciting life of a free adventurer to the inflexible -discipline of the cloister, did not you find that society was not what -you thought, and that it was no longer possible to effect anything by -violence?" - -"Alas! that is true!" replied the monk. "During the ten years that I -passed in the mountains, I did not know what revolutions were taking -place in the manners of civilized mankind. When the _Destatore_ had sent -me into the cities with his agents, to try to make satisfactory terms -with the nobles whom he had known as loyal patriots, and with the rich -and well-educated middle class citizens whom he had known as ardent -liberals, I was forced to the conviction that those people were no -longer the same, that they had brought up their children with other -ideas, that they no longer cared to risk their fortunes and their lives -in those hazardous undertakings in which only faith and enthusiasm can -perform miracles. Yes, yes, the world had progressed--backward, -according to my idea. People no longer talked of anything but making -money, of fighting monopolies, of establishing competition, of founding -new industries. They all deemed themselves rich already, they were in -such haste to become so, and the government could purchase whomsoever it -pleased, by the promise of the most trifling privilege. Yes, they had -but to promise, to hold out hopes of fortune, and the most ardent -patriots pounced upon those hopes, saying: 'industry will give us back -our liberty!' - -"The common people also believed it, and every employer could bring his -employés to the feet of the new masters, the poor creatures imagining -that their arms were about to bring them in millions. It was a sort of -fever, a universal mania. I sought men, I found only machines. I talked -of the fatherland and honor, they replied by discussing sulphur and silk -weaving. I went away disheartened, but uncertain, not daring to censure -too severely what I had seen, and saying to myself that it was not for -me, ignorant and uncivilized as I was, to pass judgment upon the new -resources which these mysterious discoveries were going to create for my -country. - -"But since then, great heaven! I have seen the result of these fine -promises so far as the common people are concerned! I have seen some -shrewd fellows restore their own fortunes by ruining their friends and -paying court to the ruling powers. I have seen many families of petty -tradespeople attain great wealth; but I have seen honorable men -persecuted more and more; I have seen, especially, and I see now every -day, more beggars and more poor wretches without bread, without homes, -without education, without a future. And I ask myself what good you have -done with your new ideas, your progress, your theories of equality! You -despise the past, you spit upon the old abuses, and you have killed the -future by creating new abuses more monstrous than the old. The best -among you, the young men, are on the alert for the revolutionary -doctrines of nations more advanced than ours. You consider yourselves -highly enlightened, very strong, when you can say: 'No more nobles, no -more priests, no more convents, no more of anything connected with the -past!' And you do not see that you no longer have the poesy, the faith -and the pride which gave life to the past. - -"Let us see!" added the Capuchin, folding his arms over his heaving -breast, and eyeing Michel with a half fatherly, half bullying, air: "you -are a very young man, a child! You consider yourself very clever, -because you know what people say and think in society at this moment. -You look at this stupid monk, who passes the day breaking rock in order -to set out an extra row of peppers or tomatoes on the lava next year, -and you say: - -"'That's a strange way for a man to pass his life! And yet this man was -neither lazy nor dull. He might have been a lawyer or a tradesman, and -have earned money like other men. He might have married, had children, -and taught them to hold their own in society. He preferred to bury -himself alive in a convent and beg! It is because he is under the -influence of the past, and has always been the dupe of the old chimeras -and old superstitions of his country!' - -"Very good! now, do you know what I think as I look at you? I say to -myself: 'Here is a young man who has come much in contact with the minds -of other men, who has very quickly thrown off the fetters of his class, -who does not choose to share the sufferings of his native country, the -labors of his kinsmen. He will succeed; he is a handsome youth, keener -and more logical in his ideas and his words at eighteen than I was at -thirty. He knows a multitude of things which had seemed useless to me -and which I did not even suspect, until the leisure of the cloister -enabled me to educate myself a little. He stands there, smiling at my -enthusiasm, and, mounted on his sound sense, his premature experience, -his knowledge of men, and his profound study of the science of personal -interest, looks upon me in his mind as a teacher looks upon his pupil. -He is the mature man; and I, an old brigand and old monk, am the -fearless youth, the blind and artless child! Strange transposition! He -represents the new generation, all for gold and glory; and I the dust of -ruins, the silence of the tomb!' - -"Very good! but let the tocsin sound, let the volcano rumble, let the -people roar, let that black point which we see in the roadstead, and -which is the ship of State, bristle with guns to destroy the city at the -first breath of aspiration toward liberty; let the brigands come down -from the mountains, let the flames soar aloft to the clouds; and in that -last convulsion of the dying fatherland, the young artist will take his -brushes, he will go and take his seat upon a hill, out of all danger, -and he will paint a picture, saying to himself: 'What an unfortunate -people, and what a magnificent spectacle! I must hasten to put it on -canvas! in an instant this people will have ceased to exist, its last -hour is striking!' - -"Whereas the old monk will take his gun, which is not yet rusty; he will -turn his sleeves back to the shoulder, and without stopping to ask -himself what will be the result of it all, he will rush into the -scrimmage and will fight for his countrymen until his crushed and -trampled body no longer resembles a human being. And I would rather die -so, boy, than survive, as you will do, the destruction of my race!" - -"My father! my father! do not believe it," cried Michel, conquered and -carried off his feet by the Capuchin's exaltation. "I am not a coward! -and if my Sicilian blood flowed sluggishly on foreign soil, it is -quickened by the fiery breath which your breast exhales. Do not crush me -beneath that terrible malediction! Take me in your arms and set me on -fire with your flames. With you I feel really alive, and this new life -intoxicates and enraptures me!" - -"Good! here is an honest impulse at last!" said the monk, embracing him. -"I like this better than the fine theories concerning art which you have -persuaded your father to respect blindly." - -"Forgive me, uncle," rejoined Michel, with a smile, "I do not surrender -on that point. I will maintain with my last breath the dignity and -importance of art. You said just now that in the midst of civil war I -would coolly go and sit down in a corner, to paint episodes of the -conflict instead of fighting. I would fight, I beg you to believe, and I -would fight hard if the object were to drive out the enemy. I would -gladly lay down my life; glory would come to me more quickly so than I -shall attain it by studying painting, and I love glory: in that respect -I fear that I am incorrigible. But if I were in truth doomed to survive -the downfall of my people after fighting in vain for their triumph, it -is probable that I should collect my painful reminiscences and paint -many pictures, to reproduce and perpetuate the memory of those bloody -catastrophes. The more excited and desperate I was, the better and more -striking my work would be. It would speak to men's hearts; it would -arouse admiration for our heroism, pity for our misfortunes, and I -assure you that it might prove that I had served our cause better with -my brush than I had done with my gun." - -"Very good! very good!" rejoined the monk, with an ingenuous outburst of -sympathy. "That is well said and well thought. We have a brother here -who is a sculptor, and I consider that his work is no less useful to the -cause of religion than mine is to the convent when I break up this lava. -But that brother has faith, and he can carve the features of the Blessed -Madonna without lowering the idea that we form of her. You will paint -fine pictures, Michel; but only on the condition that you have taken -part in the battle with heart and hand, and have been a zealous actor, -not an unmoved spectator of events." - -"Now we are altogether in accord, my father; there is no genius in art -without conviction and without emotion: but as there is nothing more for -us to dispute about, if you are content with me at last, pray tell me -what is going on, and wherein you expect my assistance. Are we on the -eve of some important undertaking?" - -Fra Angelo was so excited that he had lost all notion of his -surroundings. Suddenly his gleaming eyes filled with tears, his heaving -breast fell with a deep sigh, his hands, which quivered as if they were -feeling for pistols in his belt, fell back upon the cord around his -waist and touched his chaplet. - -"Alas! no," he said, glancing about with startled eyes, like a man -suddenly aroused from sleep, "we are on the eve of nothing, and it may -be that I shall die in my cell without ever renewing the priming of my -gun. It was all a dream which you shared with me for an instant; but do -not regret it, young man, it was a noble dream, and that instant, which -did me inestimable good, may have made you a better man. The result of -it has been that I know you and esteem you. Now we are friends for life -and death. Let us not despair of anything. Look at Ætna! it is peaceful -and radiant; it is hardly smoking, and does not make a sound. To-morrow, -perhaps, it may belch forth its burning lava again and utterly destroy -the ground on which we stand. It is the emblem and the image of the -Sicilian people, and the hour for _Vespers_ may strike in the midst of -dancing or of slumber. But the sun is sinking, and I have no more time -to waste before telling you what I have to tell that concerns you. It is -a matter entirely personal to you, of which I desired to speak with you, -and it is a very serious matter. You cannot extricate yourself from it -without my assistance and that of certain other persons who, like -myself, are prepared to risk their liberty, their honor, and their -lives, to save you." - -"Is it possible, uncle?" cried Michel; "can I not take the risk alone? -must you be involved in the mysterious perils which surround me without -my knowledge? Is it not my father alone who is in danger, and cannot I -save him?" - -"Your father is in danger, too, but in less danger than you. Do not -question me, but believe me. As I have told you, I detest unnecessary -violence, but I shrink from nothing which is right and necessary. I must -assist you, and I will assist you. You and your father can do nothing -without the Capuchin of Ætna and the remnant of the _Destatore's_ band. -We are all ready. You will forgive me if, before assuming such grave -risks, I desired to ascertain how far you were deserving of the devotion -of which you are to reap the benefits. If you had proved to be an -egotist simply, I would have assisted you to escape; but, if you are -worthy of the name of Sicilian, we will assist you to triumph over -destiny." - -"And you will not explain ----" - -"I will explain nothing that it is not necessary for you to know. I am -not allowed to do otherwise; and you must remember one thing, namely, -that by seeking to find out more than I am able to tell you, you will -simply increase our risks and add to the complications of your own -situation. Come, do me the favor to rely upon your uncle, and to -overcome the vain and restless curiosity of childhood. Try to become a -man between now and this evening, for this evening it may be necessary -to act." - -"I will ask but one thing of you, uncle, and that is to provide for my -father's safety and my sister's before thinking of me." - -"That is all done, my boy; at the first signal your father will seek -refuge in the mountains, and your sister with the lady who gave a ball -last night. Ah! the bell is ringing for service. I am going to ask the -superior's permission to go out with my nephew on some family business. -Wait for me at the door of our chapel." - -"And suppose he should refuse you?" - -"He would compel me to disobey him, which would grieve me deeply, I -confess, not because of the penance to-morrow, but because I do not like -to fail in my duty. The old soldier looks upon his orders as the supreme -law." - -Five minutes later, Fra Angelo joined Michel again at the door of the -church. - -"Granted," he said, "but I am commanded, in order to pay my debt to God, -to perform an act of faith and say a short prayer before the altar of -the Virgin. As I am excused from attending the evening services, the -least I can do is to ask pardon from my greatest superior. Come and pray -with me, young man; it can do you no harm, and will give you strength." - -Michel followed his uncle to the foot of the altar. The setting sun made -the stained-glass windows glow as with fire, and strewed with sapphires -and rubies the flagged floor on which the Capuchin knelt. Michel knelt -beside him, and watched him as he prayed with simple fervor. A -flame-colored pane, whose reflection fell upon his shaven head, made it -appear luminous and, as it were, aflame. The young painter was seized -with respect and enthusiastic admiration as he looked upon that noble, -strong and ingenuous face, which humbled itself in all sincerity in -prayer; and he, too, moved to the depths of his heart, prayed for his -country, his family and himself, with a simple faith and candor which he -had not known since his childhood. - - - - -XXIII - -THE DESTATORE - - -"May I venture to ask you where we are going, uncle?" queried Michel, -when they had taken a dark and narrow path which led among the old -olive-trees on the mountain. - -"Certainly," replied Fra Angelo; "we are going to call upon the last -real brigand in Sicily." - -"There are some left then?" - -"A few, although sadly deteriorated. They are still ready to fight for -their country, and they keep alive the last spark of the sacred flame. -However, I ought to tell you that they are a sort of cross between the -gallant fellows of long ago, who scrupulously refrained from taking a -hair from the head of a good patriot, and the cutthroats of the present -day, who kill and rob everyone they meet. These men discriminate when -they can; but, as their business has become very bad, and as the police -are more to be feared than in my time, they cannot always choose; so -that I do not hold them up as beyond reproach; but, such as they are, -they still have certain virtues which we should seek in vain elsewhere: -fidelity to their oaths, remembrance of past services, the revolutionary -spirit, love of country; in a word, all that remains of the chivalrous -spirit of our old bands still casts a faint gleam in the hearts of a few -poor fellows, who live by themselves, a half-sedentary, half-wandering -life. That is to say, they are settled in villages or in the open -country; they have their families there, and in some cases are supposed -to be peaceable husbandmen, submissive to the law, and having no quarrel -with the _campiere_.[2] If any of them are suspected, or, perhaps, -involved in some trouble, they are more wary, do not go to see their -wives or children except at night, or else remove their homes to some -almost inaccessible location. But the man whom we are going to see is -still free from any direct persecution. He lives openly in a neighboring -village, and can go where he pleases. You will not regret having made -his acquaintance, and I give you leave to study his character, for he is -a very interesting and remarkable person." - -"Should I be too inquisitive if I asked you to tell me a little -something about him beforehand?" - -"Certainly you ought to be told about him, and I will tell you. But it -is a momentous secret to place in your keeping, Michel, and it makes it -necessary for me to tell you another story. Do you know that I am going -to place in your hands the fate of a man whom the police are hunting -with all the energy and skill of which they are capable, and whose -features and true name they have never succeeded in finding out in the -six or seven years that have passed since he took up the _Destatore's_ -work? Tell me, my boy, have you never heard of the _Piccinino_ and his -band since you have been in Sicily?" - -"It seems to me that I have. Yes, yes, uncle, my sister Mila has some -fantastic stories about this Piccinino, who is the principal subject of -conversation among the young silk-weavers of Catania. He is a -redoubtable brigand, they say, who kidnaps women and kills men at the -very gates of the city. I have never believed these fables." - -"There is some truth at the bottom of all the popular legends," rejoined -the monk. "The Piccinino exists and plies his trade. There are two men -in him--the man whom the _campieri_ pursue in vain, and the man whom no -one dreams of suspecting. The man who leads hazardous expeditions and -assembles, at a mysterious signal, all the _nottoloni_[3] of any -consequence, scattered all over the island, to employ them in more or -less worthy enterprises; and the man who lives not far from this place, -in a pretty country house, free from all molestation, and with the -reputation of an intelligent, peaceably disposed man, opposed to bloody -strife and advanced opinions. Well, within an hour you will be in that -man's presence, you will know his true name, you will know his features, -and you will share with only two other persons outside of the band which -he commands the responsibility of his secret. You see that I treat you -as a man, my child, but one cannot realize the danger of another person -until he has himself been exposed to it. Henceforth you will have to pay -with your life for the slightest indiscretion, and, in addition, to -commit something more than a dastardly act, a horrible crime, of which -you will soon know the extent." - -"All these warnings are unnecessary, uncle; it is enough for me to know -that it would be an abuse of confidence." - -"I believe it, and yet I am not so sure of your prudence that I do not -feel that I must tell you everything which may increase it. Your father, -Princess Agatha, perhaps your sister, and myself beyond any -question--all of us--will have sacrificed life and honor for you, if you -are false to the oath I require of you. Swear, therefore, upon all that -you hold most sacred--upon the Holy Gospel--never to betray, even on the -scaffold, the true name of the Piccinino." - -"I swear it, uncle. Are you satisfied?" - -"Yes." - -"And will the Piccinino have the same confidence in my oath that you -have?" - -"Yes, although confidence is not a failing of his. But when I told him -of your visit, I gave him guarantees which could not fail to satisfy -him." - -"Very good! Now tell me what the relations are to be between this man -and myself?" - -"Patience, boy! I promised you another story, and here it is: - -"The _Destatore_ having become addicted to wine in his last years----" - -"So the _Destatore_ is dead, is he, uncle? You did not tell me of his -death." - -"I will tell you about it, although it is a very painful subject to me! -I told you of an abominable crime that he committed. He surprised and -carried off a girl,--a mere child,--who was walking with a nurse in this -neighborhood, and set her free again in two hours. But, alas! two hours -too late! No one witnessed his infamous act, but that very evening he -boasted of it to me and sneered at my indignation. I was beside myself -with horror and wrath, so that I cursed him, consigned him to the -furies, and abandoned him to enter this convent, where I soon took the -vows. I loved that man. I had been for many years under his influence; -and when I saw him ruining and degrading himself, I feared that I might -be led to follow his example. I determined to place between him and -myself an insurmountable barrier. I became a monk; that was one of the -most potent reasons for my decision. - -"My desertion affected him more deeply than I expected. He came secretly -to Bel Passo and resorted to every expedient--prayers and threats--to -induce me to return. He was eloquent, because he had an ardent and -sincere heart, despite his vagaries. I was inexorable, however, and I -did my utmost to convert him. I am not eloquent; I was even less so at -that time; but I felt so intensely all that I said to him--and faith had -taken so strong a hold upon my heart--that my arguments made a profound -impression upon him. I induced him to repair his crime as far as -possible by marrying the innocent victim of his violence. I went to her -by night and obtained her consent to look once more upon the detested -brigand's features. They were married that night, secretly but legally, -in the chapel before the altar where you prayed just now with me. And -when he saw that beautiful, pale-cheeked, terrified maiden, the Prince -of Castro-Reale was seized with remorse, and began to love her who was -destined always to abhor him! He entreated her to fly with him, and, -irritated by her refusal, thought of abducting her. But I had given that -child my word, and she displayed a strength of character and a pride far -beyond her years. She told him that she would never see him again; and -clinging to my gown and our prior's--a worthy man who carried all his -secrets with him to the grave--she cried: 'You swore that you would not -leave me alone with that man a minute, and would take me back to the -door of my home as soon as the marriage ceremony was finished. Do not -desert me, or I will beat out my brains on the steps of your church!' - -"She would have done as she said, the noble-hearted girl! But I had -sworn! I took her home in safety, and she never saw the _Destatore_ -again. - -"As for him, his suffering was beyond words. Resistance inflamed his -passion, and, for the first time in his life, he who had seduced and -abandoned so many women learned what love is. But he also learned what -remorse is, and from that day his mind was diseased. I hoped that he -would be truly converted. I had no thought of making a monk of him like -myself, but I wanted him to take up his old work, to renounce useless -crimes, debauchery and folly. I tried to convince him that, if he should -become once more the avenger of his country and the soul of our hope of -deliverance, his young wife would forgive him and consent to share his -painful but glorious destiny. Doubtless I myself would have thrown my -frock to the dogs and followed him. - -"But, alas! it would be too easy for men to mend their ways if crime and -vice would relax their grasp upon their victims as readily as we desire. -The _Destatore_ was no longer himself; he had become too thoroughly the -man of the past. The remorse that I aroused in him disturbed his reason -without appeasing his savage instincts. Sometimes a raving madman, -sometimes timid and superstitious, he would pray one day in our humble -chapel, bathed in tears; and the next day would return to his vomit--as -the Scripture says. He tried to kill all his companions; he tried to -kill me. He committed many more excesses, and one morning--it is hard -for me to carry my story through to the end, Michel, it gives me so much -pain!--one morning he was found dead at the foot of a cross, not far -from our convent. He had blown out his brains with a pistol!" - -"That was a horrible fate," said Michel, "and I do not know whether it -is the tone of your voice, uncle, or the ghastly memories of the place -where we are, but my emotions at this moment are most painful. It may be -that I heard my father tell the story in my childhood, and that the -memory of the terror it caused me then is revived by your words." - -"I do not believe that your father ever mentioned it to you," said the -Capuchin, after an interval of dismal silence. "I only speak of it -because I must, my child; for the remembrance is more painful to me than -to anybody on earth, and the place where we now are is by no means -calculated to arouse cheerful thoughts in my mind. See, yonder is the -cross whose base was drenched with his blood, and there I found him -lying, sadly disfigured. It was I who dug his grave with my own hands -under yonder rock in the bottom of the ravine. It was I who said the -prayers which anybody else would have refused to say for him. - -"Poor Castro-Reale, poor captain, poor fellow!" continued the Capuchin, -baring his head and extending his arm in the direction of a great black -rock which lay on the brink of the stream about fifty feet below the -road. "May God, who is inexhaustible mercy and infinite kindness, -forgive the errors of your life, as I forgive the sorrow you caused me! -I no longer remember aught save your years of valor; your noble deeds, -your lofty sentiments, and the ardent aspirations which we shared. God -will not be more severe than a poor fellow like me, will he, Michel?" - -"I do not believe in the everlasting resentment of the supreme and -perfect Being who governs the world," replied the young man. "But let us -go on, uncle; I am cold here, and I prefer to confess the strange -weakness that I feel rather than remain an instant longer at the foot of -this cross. I am afraid!" - -"I had rather see you tremble than laugh in this spot!" replied the -monk. "Come, give me your hand, and let us go on." - -They walked for some time in silence; then Fra Angelo, as if he wished -to divert Michel's thoughts, continued thus: "After the death of the -_Destatore_, many people, women especially,--for he had seduced more -than one--hurried to his hiding-place, hoping to obtain possession of -what money he might have left there for the children whose father he -was, or was supposed to be; but on the very morning of his suicide he -had taken the booty remaining from his last expeditions and carried it -to that one of his mistresses whom he loved best, or, to speak more -accurately, whom he hated least; for, although he had many flames, he -inspired even more, and all those women, forming a sort of ambulatory -harem, annoyed and irritated him beyond measure. They all wanted him to -marry them, for they did not know that he was married. Melina, of -Nicolosi, alone never burdened him with her reproaches or her demands. -She had loved him sincerely; she had abandoned herself to him without -resistance and without ulterior motives; she had given him a son whom he -preferred to the twelve or fifteen bastards who were reared under his -name among the mountains. Most of those bastards are still living, and -boast, rightly or wrongly, that they belong to him. All are brigands to -a greater or less extent. But the one whom the _Destatore_ never denied, -who resembles him in every feature, although his is a much reduced and -blurred impression of the father's masculine and energetic beauty; the -one who has grown to manhood with the design of succeeding to his work, -with protection and resources to which the others can lay no claim, that -one is the son of Melina, the young man whom we shall see very soon; he -is the leader of the brigands to whom I have referred, some of whom are, -as a matter of fact, his brothers; finally, he is the man whom you are -to know under his true name, Carmelo Tomabene, who is also known as _The -Piccinino_." - -"And the girl whom Castro-Reale abducted, whom you married to him--will -you not tell me her name, uncle?" - -"Her name and her story are a secret which only three persons know -to-day, she, myself, and one other. Stop there, Michel; no more -questions on that subject. Let us return to the Piccinino, son of the -Prince of Castro-Reale and of the peasant girl of Nicolosi. - -"This intrigue of the _Destatore_ was several years prior to his crime -and his marriage. The treasure he left was not very considerable; but, -as everything is relative, it was a fortune to Melina. She brought up -her son as if she intended that he should rise above his position; in -the bottom of her heart she longed to make a priest of him, and for -several years I was his tutor and his guide. But he was barely fifteen -years old when, having lost his mother, he left our convent and led a -wandering life until he attained his majority. He had always cherished -the idea of hunting up his father's former companions, and organizing a -new band with their aid; but, from respect for his mother's wishes, for -I ought to say that he really loved her, he had worked to acquire an -education as if he had, in fact, intended to devote himself to the -priestly profession. When he had recovered his liberty, he made use of -it without informing me of his purpose. He had always supposed that I -would blame him. Later, he was compelled to entrust his secret to me and -seek my advice. - -"I was not sorry, I confess, to be rid of the guardianship of that young -wolf, for he was the most untamable creature that I ever met. As -fearless as his father, and even more intelligent, he is by instinct so -cautious and cunning, and elusive, that I was uncertain at times whether -I was dealing with the vilest of hypocrites or with the shrewdest -diplomatist who ever tangled up the affairs of empires. He is a strange -mixture of perfidy and honor, of magnanimity and vindictiveness. He has -a portion of his father's virtues and good qualities. His vices and -failings are of a different sort. Like his father, he is loyal in -friendship, and his oath is sacred; but while his father, even when -carried away by fierce passions, was always a true believer, and indeed -devout in the depths of his heart, the son, if I am not mistaken, and if -he has not changed, is the most placid and coolest atheist that ever -lived. If he has passions, he gratifies them so secretly that they -cannot be discovered. I know of but one, and that I have made no attempt -to overcome,--it is hatred of the foreigner and love of country. That -love is so intense that he carries it even to love of locality. Far from -being a spendthrift like his father, he is economical and orderly, and -owns a pretty little estate at Nicolosi, with a garden and some land, -where he lives almost always alone, to all appearance, when he is not on -some secret expedition in the mountains. But he arranges his absences -with so much caution, and receives his friends with so much mystery, -that no one ever knows whether he is away from the house, or in his -garden, smoking and reading. In order to preserve this skilfully managed -freedom of action, he makes a practice of not replying or showing -himself when anyone knocks at his door. So that, when he is ten leagues -away, no one can say that he is not kept within the walls of his -fortress by a fit of unsociability. - -"He has retained the costume, and, so far as appears, the habits of a -wealthy peasant, and, although he is very well educated and very -eloquent on occasion, although he is fitted for any career, and capable -of distinguishing himself in many, he has such aversion for society and -the laws by which it is governed among us, that he prefers to remain a -bandit. To be simply a _villano_[4] in easy circumstances would not -satisfy him. He is energetic and ambitious, he has a genius for the -ruses of warfare, and a passion for adventures. Although it is a part of -his plan to conceal his shrewdness and his learning, those qualities -reveal themselves in spite of him, and he has great influence in his -village. He is looked upon there as an original character, but they -think highly of his advice, and consult him on every subject. He has -made it his duty to oblige everybody, because it is his policy to have -no enemies. He explains his frequent absences and the numerous visits he -receives as being connected with a small business in grain, which -requires journeys into the interior and somewhat extensive connections. -He carefully conceals his patriotism, but he investigates and knows all -about other people's, and at the first real uprising, he would have but -to wave his hand to raise the whole population of the mountain, and the -mountain would march with him." - -"I can understand that this man is a hero in your eyes, uncle, while you -have difficulty in esteeming one whose qualities are so faintly outlined -as mine." - -"I esteem the quality of words, not their number," replied the Capuchin. -"You have said two or three words which satisfy me, and as for my hero, -as you call him, he is so far from being lavish with them that I have -had to judge him by deeds rather than by speech. I, myself, rarely speak -of matters upon which I feel very strongly, and if you find me prolix -to-day, it is because I am obliged to tell you in two hours what I have -had no chance to tell you in the eighteen years that you have been in -this world, a stranger to me. However, reserve is not a defect in my -eyes. I loved Castro-Reale as I shall never love anybody else; and we -passed whole days together, by ourselves, without speaking a word. He -was suspicious, as every true Sicilian should be, and so long as he -distrusted himself and others, he had a noble heart and a noble spirit." - -"The young man we are going to see must be very deeply attached to you, -uncle, since you are sure of finding him prepared to receive me?" - -"If he loves anyone on earth, I am that one, although I scolded and -worried him well when he was my pupil. However, I am not perfectly -certain that he will grant what I have to ask him in your behalf. He -will have to overcome some repugnance; but I hope for the best." - -"Doubtless he knows all that you will not allow me to know myself of my -affairs and my destiny?" - -"He? he knows nothing whatsoever of them, and he shall know nothing -before you do. The little that you are both to know for the present, I -will tell you both. After that, it may be that the Piccinino will guess -more than he should. His penetration is very keen; but whatever he may -guess, he will never tell you; and he will never ask you what he wants -to find out; my mind is at rest so far as that is concerned. Now, -silence; we are coming out of the woods into a cultivated and settled -part of the mountain. We must be seen by as few people as possible on -our way to the place where our man awaits us." - -They walked silently and cautiously along hedges and clumps of trees, -keeping in the shadow and avoiding trodden paths; and in the gathering -dusk they soon reached the Piccinino's abode. - - -[Footnote 2: The gendarmes or police of the island.] - -[Footnote 3: People who attend to their business by night.] - -[Footnote 4: That is to say, a _villain_ or serf.] - - - - -XXIV - -IL PICCININO - - -On that side of the mountain which Fra Angelo and Michel had been -constantly ascending for two hours, the large, thickly populated village -of Nicolosi is the last civilized point at which the traveller who -wishes to visit the top of Ætna stops for breath before entering the -grand and imposing region of forests. This second belt is called -_Silvosa_ or _Nemorosa_, and the cold is intense there. The vegetation -then becomes depressingly wild and more sparse, until it finally -disappears altogether under lichens and heaps of gravel, beyond which -all is snow, sulphur, and smoke. - -Nicolosi and the magnificent landscape surrounding it were already -enveloped in the evening mist when Michel tried to form some idea of the -place where he was. The imposing mass of Ætna was of the same uniform -shade, and he could barely distinguish, a mile above him, the frowning -peak of _Monte-Rosso_, that subaltern volcano, one of the twenty or -thirty sons of Ætna, extinct or recently opened furnaces, which rear -their heads like a battery of artillery at its foot. It was Monte-Rosso -that opened its black maw, less than two centuries ago, to vomit forth -that death-dealing lava with which the bottom of the bay of Catania is -still furrowed. To-day the peasants raise grapes and olives on débris -which seems to be burning still. - -The Piccinino's house stood by itself on the mountain, about half a mile -from the village, from which it was separated by a steep ravine; it was -on the uppermost edge of a fertile tract, where the atmosphere was soft -and balmy. A few hundred feet higher it began to be cold, and the -terrors of the desert were foreshadowed by the absence of tilled land, -and by ridges of lava so numerous and so broad that the mountain seemed -inaccessible in that direction. Michel observed that the situation was -particularly favorable to the purposes of a man who was half citizen, -half outlaw. At home, he could enjoy all the comforts of life; on -leaving his home, he at once escaped from the presence of his fellow-men -and the requirements of the law. - -The hill, the slope of which was very abrupt on one side, but gentle and -fertile on the other, was covered to its very summit with luxuriant -vegetation, whose mysterious exuberance was sedulously fostered by an -industrious and intelligent hand. Carmelo Tomabene's garden was renowned -for its beauty and the great abundance of its fruits and flowers. But -its entrance was jealously guarded, and it was enclosed on all sides by -high verdure-covered palisades. The house, which was of considerable -size and well built, although without apparent striving for effect, -stood upon the site of a small abandoned fort. Some fragments of thick -walls, and the base of a square tower, which had been utilized to -strengthen and enlarge the new building, which bore the marks of -extensive repairs, gave to the modest structure an air of solidity, and -of semi-rustic, semi-seignoral importance. However, it was simply the -dwelling of a well-to-do farmer, although one felt that a man of refined -habits and tastes might find life enjoyable therein. - -Fra Angelo approached the gate, and pulled a bell-cord, which, starting -among the honeysuckles in which the gate was embowered, followed a long -vine-clad arbor and was connected with a bell inside the house; but the -sound of the bell was so deadened that it could not be heard outside. -The cord was not visible amid the foliage, and one needed to be -previously cognizant of its existence to make use of it. The monk pulled -the cord three times, at carefully measured intervals; then five times, -then twice, then three times again; after which he folded his arms for -five minutes, when he repeated the signals in the same order and with -the same care. One ring more or less and the mysterious proprietor might -have allowed them to wait all night without admitting them. - -At last the garden gate was opened. A small man, wrapped in a cloak, -approached, took Fra Angelo by the hand, whispered to him for some -moments, then turned to Michel, bade him enter, and walked before them, -after closing the gate. They walked through the long arbor which formed -a cross extending the whole length and width of the garden, and entered -the house through a sort of rustic porch formed of large pillars covered -with vine and jasmine. Their host then ushered them into a large room, -neatly and simply furnished, where everything indicated regularity and -sobriety on the part of the owner. There he invited them to sit, and, -stretching himself out on an enormous couch covered with red silk, -coolly lighted his cigar; then, without any demonstration of -friendliness toward the monk, he waited for him to speak. He showed no -impatience, no curiosity. He gave his whole attention to removing his -brown cloak lined with pink, carefully folding it, and rearranging his -silk sash, as if he desired to be perfectly comfortable while listening -to what they had to say to him. - -But what was Michel's surprise when he finally recognized in the young -_villano_ of Nicolosi the stranger who had caused a momentary sensation -at the princess's ball, and with whom he had exchanged a few far from -friendly words on the stoop of the palace! - -He was disturbed by the thought that that incident was unlikely to -dispose in his favor the man at whose hands he was about to ask a -service. But the Piccinino did not seem to recognize him, and Michel -concluded that it would be as well not to remind him of that unpleasant -incident. - -He had plenty of leisure to examine his features and to seek therein -some indication of his character. But it was impossible for him to -detect any trace of emotion, of determination, of any human feeling, on -that impassive and expressionless face. It was not even impertinent, -although his attitude and his silence might seem to denote a purpose to -display contempt. - -The Piccinino was a young man of about twenty-five years. His short -stature and slender figure justified the sobriquet which had been given -him, and to which he submitted with more coquetry than vexation.[5] It -is impossible to imagine a more slender and delicate, and, at the same -time, more perfect figure, than that young man's. Admirably -proportioned, and modelled like an antique bronze, he made up for his -lack of muscular strength by extreme suppleness. He was reputed to be -without a compeer in all bodily exercises, although he was dependent -solely upon his address, his coolness, his agility, and the unerring -accuracy of his glance. No one could tire him at walking, or overtake -him at running. He climbed precipices with the self-possession of a -chamois; he was as good a shot with the rifle as with the pistol or the -sling; and in all sports of that sort he was so sure of winning all the -prizes that he had ceased to take the trouble to compete. He was an -excellent horseman and a fearless swimmer; in fact, there was no method -of locomotion or of fighting in which he was not certain to display a -marked superiority to anyone who ventured to try conclusions with him. -Being fully alive to the advantages of physical strength in a -mountainous country, and with the life of an adventurer before him, he -had striven in early years to acquire what nature seemed to have denied -him in that regard. He had exercised and developed his muscles with -incredible energy and persistence, and had succeeded in making his -fragile frame the trusty slave and obedient instrument of his will. - -And yet, seeing him reclining thus upon his couch, one might have taken -him for a sickly or indolent woman. Michel did not know that, after -travelling twenty leagues on foot during the day, he systematically -rested for a certain number of hours, and that he had watched and -studied himself so closely in every respect that he knew exactly how -many moments he must pass in a horizontal position in order to escape -the annoyance of a lame back and legs. - -His face was of a peculiar type of beauty: it was the Siculo-Arabian[6] -type in all its purity. Extraordinary sharpness of outline, a somewhat -exaggerated oriental profile, long, languishing, velvety black eyes, a -shrewd and lazy smile, a wholly feminine grace, and an indefinable -gentleness and coldness which it was impossible to explain at the first -glance. - -The Piccinino was dressed with extreme care and scrupulous neatness. He -wore the picturesque costume of the peasants of the mountain, but it was -made of fine, light materials. His breeches, short and tight-fitting, -were of a soft woollen fabric, with silk stripes, yellow and brown. His -bare leg, white as alabaster, was visible above his scarlet -_spadrilles_. His shirt was of embroidered linen, trimmed with lace, and -afforded a glimpse of a heavy gold chain, intertwined with hair, upon -his breast. His sash was of green silk stitched with silver. He was -arrayed from head to foot in smuggled garments, or something worse; for -if you had examined the marks on his linen, you might have convinced -yourself that it came from the last valise he had robbed. - -While Michel was contemplating with admiration, mingled with some inward -irony, the ease with which that well-favored youth rolled a cigarette of -Algerian tobacco in his fingers, slender and tapering as a Bedouin's, -Fra Angelo, who seemed neither surprised nor annoyed by his reception, -made a circuit of the room, bolted the door, and, having inquired if -they were quite alone in the house, to which query the Piccinino replied -in the affirmative with a nod, he began thus: - -"I thank you, my son, for not compelling me to wait for this -appointment. I have come to ask a favor at your hands: are you able and -willing to devote a few days to it?" - -"A few days?" repeated the Piccinino, in such a soft voice that Michel -was fain to glance anew at the muscles of steel in his legs in order to -be sure that it was not a woman who spoke; but the tone of the voice -signified too clearly to be misunderstood: "You are jesting!" - -"I said a few days," rejoined the monk, calmly. "You will have to go -down the mountain, follow this young man, my nephew, to Catania, and -stay by him until you have succeeded in relieving him from an enemy who -is tormenting him." - -The Piccinino turned slowly toward Michel, and stared at him as if he -had not previously seen him; then, taking from his belt a richly-mounted -stiletto, he presented it to him with an almost imperceptible smile of -irony and contempt, as if to say: "You are old enough and strong enough -to defend yourself." - -Michel, annoyed at being placed in such a position, was about to make a -sharp retort, when Fra Angelo cut him short, placing his iron hand on -his shoulder. - -"Be quiet, my boy," he said; "you do not know what I am talking about, -and there is no occasion for you to speak. My friend," he continued, -addressing the bandit, "if my nephew were not a man and a Sicilian, I -should not introduce him to you. I am going to tell you what we expect -of you, unless you tell me beforehand that you cannot or will not help -us." - -"Padre Angelo," replied the bandit, taking the monk's hand, and putting -it to his lips with a caressing gesture and an affectionate glance that -changed the character of his face entirely, "whatever you may ask, I am -always willing to do for you. But no man can do all that he is willing -to do. So I must know what it is." - -"A man annoys us." - -"I understand." - -"We do not wish to kill him." - -"You are unwise." - -"By killing him we ruin ourselves; by putting him out of the way we are -saved." - -"He is to be kidnapped then?" - -"Yes, but we do not know how to go about it." - -"What! _you_ do not know, Padre Angelo?" said the Piccinino with a -smile. - -"I should have known in the old days," replied the Capuchin. "I had -friends and places of shelter. Now, I am a monk." - -"You are foolish," rejoined the bandit with undisturbed tranquillity. -"So, I am to kidnap a man, am I? Is he very stout, very heavy?" - -"He is very light," replied the monk, who apparently understood that -metaphor, "and no one will give you a ducat for his skin." - -"In that case, good-evening, father; I can't take him alone and put him -in my pocket like a handkerchief. I must have men, and they are not to -be had for nothing, as in your day." - -"You don't understand me; you may fix the compensation of your men -yourself, and they shall be paid." - -"Do you make yourself responsible for that, father?" - -"I do." - -"You alone?" - -"I alone. And, so far as you are concerned, if the affair had not been a -magnificent one, I should not have selected you." - -"Well, we will see about it next week," rejoined the bandit, in order to -obtain more ample information as to the profits of the affair. - -"In that case, we will say nothing more about it," said the monk, hurt -by his distrust; "we must go forward at once or not at all." - -"At once? What about a chance to collect my men, persuade them, and give -them their instructions?" - -"You can do it to-morrow morning, and to-morrow night they can be at -their posts." - -"I see that you are in no great hurry, or you would have told me to -start to-night. If you can wait until to-morrow, you can wait a -fortnight." - -"No; for I intend to take you away with me now, send you to a certain -villa where you will talk with one of the persons interested in the -success of the affair, and give you until to-morrow night to inspect the -locality, become acquainted with all necessary details, set up your -batteries, notify your men, station them, arrange for allies in the -citadel. Bah! it is more time than you need! At your age I wouldn't have -asked your father for half of it." - -Michel saw that the Capuchin had touched the right chord at last; for -when he was appealed to as the son of the Prince of Castro-Reale, a -title which nobody dared or chose to give him openly, the Piccinino -started, sat up and sprang to his feet as if he were ready to start at -once. But suddenly he put his hand to his leg and fell back on the -couch. - -"It is impossible," he said, "I am in too much pain." - -"What is the matter?" asked Fra Angelo. "Are you wounded? Is that spent -ball of last year still troubling you? In the old days we used to march -with bullets in our bodies. Your father did thirty leagues without -thinking of having the one extracted that he received in the thigh at -Leon-Forte; but the young men of to-day need a year to be cured of a -bruise." - -Michel thought that his uncle had gone a little too far, for the -Piccinino resumed his recumbent attitude with a gesture of profound -indignation, stretched himself on his back, puffed away at his -cigarette, and maliciously left to the good priest the embarrassing -necessity of continuing the conversation. - -But Fra Angelo was perfectly sure that the idea of a supply of ducats -had appealed to the young bandit's unsentimental mind, and he continued -without the slightest hesitation: - -"I give you half an hour, my son, if you absolutely need it; half an -hour is a long while for the blood that flows in your veins! then we -will all three start." - -"Who is this youngster, pray?" said the Piccinino, indicating Michel -with the end of his finger, but without removing his eyes from the wall. - -"He is my nephew, as I have told you; and Fra Angelo's nephew is to be -relied on. But he doesn't know the country, and has not the necessary -connections for an affair of this sort." - -"Is the _signorino_ afraid of compromising himself?" - -"No, signor!" cried Michel, irritated beyond endurance, and unable to -bear longer the bandit's insolence and the restraint which his uncle -imposed upon him. The bandit turned, looked him in the face with his -long eyes, which seemed to turn up a little toward the temples, and -whose mocking expression was sometimes intolerable. But when he saw -Michel's animated face and pale lips, he assumed a more amiable -expression, albeit a little suspicious still, and said, offering him his -hand: - -"Let us be friends, at all events, until we have no other enemies on our -hands; that is our wisest course." - -As Michel was seated at some distance, he would have had to rise to take -that hand, extended with a kingly gesture. He smiled and did not move, -at the risk of displeasing his uncle and losing the fruit of their -expedition. - -But the monk was not sorry to see Michel adopt that attitude with -respect to the bandit. The latter understood that he had no -weak-spirited creature to deal with, and, rising with an effort, he went -to him and took his hand. - -"You are cruel, my young master," he said, "to refuse to take two steps -toward a man who is completely tired out. You haven't travelled twenty -leagues to-day, and you insist upon my starting off again when I have -had barely two hours' rest!" - -"At your age," said the unrelenting monk, "I used to walk twenty leagues -a day, and not take time to sup before starting again. Well, have you -decided? Shall we start?" - -"You care a good deal about it, don't you? Are you personally interested -in the affair?" - -"I care about it as I do about my everlasting salvation, and the affair -is of the deepest interest to the persons who are dearer to me than -anybody else on earth since your father died. My brother is in danger, -as well as this excellent young man, for whom I demand your sincere and -loyal friendship." - -"Have I not shaken his hand?" - -"Therefore I count upon you. When I see that you are ready, I will tell -you something that will be a more enticing bait to you than gold or -glory." - -"I am ready. Is it an enemy of the country who is to be killed?" - -"I told you that there is nobody to be killed; you forget that I serve -the God of peace and mercy. But there is some one to be thwarted, some -one whose treacherous plans must be utterly foiled; and that man is a -spy and a traitor." - -"His name?" - -"Will you come?" - -"Am I not on my feet?" - -"Abbé Ninfo." - -The Piccinino began to laugh, a silent laugh in which there was -something ghastly. - -"May I be permitted to thwart him?" he asked. - -"Morally, yes. But not a drop of blood must be shed!" - -"Morally! good, I will exert my wits. Courage is not current coin with -that fellow; but as we have made our bargain, or nearly so, it is time -to explain to me the motive of this abduction." - -"I will explain it to you, and you can reflect upon it as we walk." - -"Impossible. I cannot do two things at once. I reflect only when my body -is at rest." - -And he coolly lay down again after relighting his cigarette. - -Fra Angelo saw clearly enough that he would not allow himself to be led -into action with his eyes closed. - -"You know," he said, with no indication of impatience, "that Ninfo is -the tool, the spy, the inseparable companion of a certain cardinal?" - -"Hieronymo de Palmarosa?" - -"You know also that my older brother, Pier-Angelo, was forced to leave -Sicily eighteen years ago?" - -"I know it. It was his own fault! My father was still alive. He might -have joined him instead of abandoning his country." - -"You are mistaken; your father was dead. You were an infant, I was a -monk! There was nothing to be done here." - -"Go on." - -"My brother returned, as you know, a year ago; and his son, Michelangelo -here, returned a week ago." - -"What for?" - -"To assist his father in his trade and his country on occasion. But -there is already a denunciation hanging over him as well as over his -father. The cardinal still has his memory, and does not forgive. Ninfo -is prepared to act in his name." - -"What are they waiting for?" - -"I don't know why the cardinal is waiting so long before dying, but I -can say that Ninfo is waiting for the cardinal's death." - -"Why?" - -"In order to seize his papers before there is time to put seals on them -and notify his heiress." - -"Who is the heiress?" - -"Princess Agatha de Palmarosa." - -"Ah! yes," said the bandit, changing his position, "a beautiful woman, -so they say." - -"That has nothing to do with the affair. But do you understand now why -it is necessary that Abbé Ninfo should disappear during the cardinal's -last moments?" - -"So that he cannot seize the papers, you said. He may cheat Princess -Agatha out of important documents, abstract a will. It is a serious -matter for her. She is very rich, is she not? Thanks to her father's and -uncle's _loyal opinions_, the government has left her all her property, -and does not crush her life out with forced contributions." - -"She is very rich, so that it is a great opportunity for you, for she is -no less generous than rich." - -"I understand. And then, she is a very beautiful woman!" - -His insistence upon that consideration sent a shudder of anger through -Michel's veins; the bandit's impertinence seemed intolerable to him; but -Fra Angelo was not disturbed by it. He believed that it was simply a -trick of the Piccinino's, to conceal his rapacity beneath an air of -gallantry. - -"So I am to act for your brother and nephew incidentally," continued the -bandit, "while in reality I am to rescue the Princess of Palmarosa's -future fortune by laying hands upon the suspicious person of Abbé -Ninfo? Is that it?" - -"That is it," the monk replied. "The signora has to look out for her -interests, and I for my family. That is why I have advised her to seek -your assistance, and why I consented to convey her request." - -The Piccinino seemed to reflect a moment; then, suddenly throwing -himself back on his cushions, he exclaimed, in a voice broken by peals -of hearty laughter: - -"A most excellent story! This is one of the most attractive adventures -in which I have ever taken part!" - - -[Footnote 5: The Piccinino is a friendly diminutive which the -mountaineers might well have given him because of his small size. But -the phrase _piccin-piccino_ signifies the act of hiding in order to -prove an _alibi_.] - -[Footnote 6: That is to say, modified Arabian, as found in Sicily.] - - - - -XXV - -THE DESTATORE'S CROSS - - -This outburst of merriment, which seemed exceedingly insolent to Michel, -alarmed the monk at last; but, giving him no time to question him, the -Piccinino resumed his seriousness as abruptly as he had laid it aside. - -"The affair becomes clearer," he said. "One point is still obscure; why -does Ninfo wait for the cardinal to die before denouncing your kinsmen?" - -"Because he knows that the princess is their protector," the Capuchin -replied; "that she has affection and esteem for the honest old artisan -who has been working in her palace for a year past, and that, to save -them from persecution, she would allow herself to be bled by that -infamous priest. So he says to himself that when the cardinal is dead he -will have that noble lady's fate in his hands absolutely, and that he -will be at liberty to ruin her to his own profit. Doesn't it seem better -to you that the Princess Agatha, who is a good Sicilian, should inherit -the cardinal's property peaceably, and recompense handsomely the -services of a gallant fellow like yourself, than that she should spend -her money to buy the silence of a venomous reptile like Ninfo?" - -"That is my opinion. But how can you be sure that the will has not been -already abstracted? - -"We know on good authority that it cannot have been yet." - -"I must be certain of it! for I don't choose to exert myself, and then -obtain nothing that is of any value." - -"What does it matter if your pay is the same?" - -"Ah! Brother Angelo," said the Piccinino, rising on his elbow and -assuming an air of pride which made his listless eyes gleam for an -instant, "for what do you take me? It seems to me that you have -forgotten me in some measure. Am I a _bravo_, to be paid by the job or -by the day? I have always flattered myself upon being a loyal friend, a -man of honor, a devoted partisan; and lo and behold! apparently ashamed -of the pupil you trained, you treat me like a mercenary, ready to do -anything for a little gold! Disabuse yourself of that idea, in God's -name. I do justice fortuitously, as my father did; and if I sometimes -work on different lines from those he followed--if, conforming to the -spirit of the age we live in, I use my shrewdness more often than my -courage--I am none the less high-spirited and independent. Being more -useful and more in request than a notary, lawyer or doctor, if I put a -high price on my services, or give them _gratis_, according to the means -of those who seek them, I have no love for my art and no respect for my -own intelligence. I shall never waste my time and trouble in earning -money without guarding the interests of my clients; and, just as the -famous advocate refuses to undertake a cause which he is sure of losing, -just as a captain refuses to risk his men in an unnecessary action, just -as an honest doctor ceases his visits when it is no longer in his power -to relieve his patient, so do I, my father, refuse your offers, for they -do not satisfy my conscience." - -"There was no need of your saying all that to me," said Fra Angelo, -still as calm as ever. "I know what sort of man you are, and I should -consider that I degraded myself by seeking the aid of a man whom I did -not esteem." - -"In that case," replied the Piccinino, with increasing excitement, "why -do you lack confidence in me? Why do you tell me only a part of the -truth?" - -"You want me to tell you where the cardinal's will is concealed? That I -do not know, nor have I ever thought of asking." - -"That is impossible." - -"I swear to you before God, boy, that I have no idea. I know that it is -out of Ninfo's reach for the present, and that he cannot obtain -possession of it while the cardinal lives except with his assent." - -"And how do you know that he has not already given his assent?" - -"The Princess Agatha is certain of it. She told me so, and that was -enough for me." - -"But suppose it isn't enough for me? Suppose I have no confidence in -that woman's shrewdness and foresight? Don't you know that women have no -talent whatever for that sort of thing? Have they any other talent in -the way of divining or pretending than the talent they place at the -service of love?" - -"You have become very learned on this subject, and I have continued to -be quite ignorant; however, my friend, if you desire to know further -details, ask the princess herself for them, and you will probably be -satisfied. I intended to put you in communication with her to-night." - -"To-night? in direct communication? Shall I be able to talk with her -alone?" - -"Surely, if you consider it necessary to the success of our -undertaking." - -The Piccinino turned abruptly to Michel, and looked at him without -saying a word. - -The young artist was unable to sustain that gaze without distress. The -adventurer's manner of speaking of Agatha had already irritated him -exceedingly, and to keep himself in countenance he was forced to take a -cigarette which the bandit suddenly offered him with an ironical and -quasi-patronizing air. - -The Piccinino had risen, and seemed to have fully made up his mind to -go. He began to unbuckle his sash, shaking and stretching his legs like -a hunting-dog preparing for the chase. - -He passed into another room, and soon returned, dressed with more care -and more simply. He had covered his bare legs with long gaiters of white -wool like those worn by the Italian mountaineers. But all the buttons, -from ankle to knee, were of fine gold. He had put on the twofold -doublet, the outer one of green velvet embroidered with gold; the inner -one shorter, and less full, and of fashionable cut, was of lilac watered -silk, embroidered with silver. A white leather belt encircled his supple -waist; but, instead of the copper buckle, he wore a superb clasp of -antique coraline, richly mounted. No weapons were visible, but there -could be no question that he was provided with most adequate means of -defence. Finally, he had exchanged his showy cloak for the classic cloak -of black woollen cloth, lined with white, and covered his head with the -pointed hood that gives the aspect of monks or ghosts to all the -mysterious figures that one meets on mountain paths. - - -[Illustration: _THE CONFERENCE WITH THE -PICCININO._ - -_"Come" he said, looking himself over in a large -mirror that hung against the wall; "I can appear -before a woman now without frightening her. What -do you think about it, Michelangelo Lavoratori?_"] - - -"Come," he said, looking himself over in a large mirror that hung -against the wall; "I can appear before a woman now without frightening -her. What do you think about it, Michelangelo Lavoratori?" - -And, heedless of the impression that that conceited tone might produce -on the young artist, he set about closing his house with the utmost -care. After which, he gayly passed his arm through Michel's, and started -off so swiftly that the others had difficulty in keeping pace with him. - -When they had passed Nicolosi, Fra Angelo, stopping at a place where two -paths converged, took leave of his young friends, to return to his -monastery, advising them not to lose time escorting him thither. - -"The leave granted me expires in half an hour," he said. "It may be that -I shall have many other favors to ask within a short time, and I must -not abuse this one. Yonder is the direct road to the Villa Palmarosa -without passing Bel Passo. You do not need me to be introduced to the -princess's presence. She has been notified and she expects you. Here is -a key to the park, Michel, and one to the little garden outside the -Casino. You know the staircase cut in the rock. You must ring twice, -thrice and once at the small gilt gate at the top. Until then avoid -being seen, and make sure that nobody is following you. When the maid -comes to open the gate leading into the private garden, your countersign -will be _Blessed Madonna of Bel Passo_. Do not lose these keys, Michel. -Within a few days all the locks have been changed secretly, and the new -ones are so complicated, that unless he applies to the locksmith who -furnished them, and who is incorruptible, it will be impossible -henceforth for Ninfo to get into the villa by means of false keys. One -word more, my children. If any unforeseen occurrence should make my -presence urgently necessary during the night, the Piccinino knows my -cell and how to get into the convent." - -"I should say as much!" said the bandit, when they had left the -Capuchin; "I have indulged in enough escapades at night and returned -just before dawn often enough, to know how to climb the walls of the -convent of Mal Passo. Well, my friend, we no longer have to be careful -of good Brother Angelo's legs; we will run a bit on this slope, and you -will be kind enough not to lag behind, for I am not inclined to follow -beaten paths. It is not my custom, and the way the crow flies is much -safer and more expeditious." - -As he spoke he darted in among the rocks which descended abruptly to the -bed of the stream, as if he proposed to jump over. It was a very bright -night, as almost all nights are in that beautiful climate. But the moon, -which was just rising and casting huge shadows across the ravines, made -everything uncertain and deceptive to the eye. If Michel had not kept -close to his guide, he would have been completely at a loss what course -to take among masses of lava and steep cliffs which it seemed impossible -to climb. Although the Piccinino was perfectly familiar with the -practicable spots, there were some so dangerous and difficult that -Michel would have refused to take the risk, except for the fear of being -considered cowardly and awkward. But the rivalry of self-love is a spur -which increases a man's faculties tenfold, and, at the risk of killing -himself twenty times over, the young artist followed the bandit without -stumbling and without uttering a word which betrayed his discomfort and -his distrust. - -We say distrust, because he soon felt sure that all this trouble and -contempt of danger did not shorten their road. It might be a malicious -device on the part of the adventurer to test his strength, his agility, -and his courage, or an attempt to elude him. He was almost convinced of -it, when, after half an hour of this wild chase, and after thrice -crossing the same winding stream, they found themselves in the bottom of -a ravine which Michel thought that he recognized as one that he and the -Capuchin had skirted on the higher land on their way to Nicolosi. He did -not choose to make that suggestion; but he involuntarily paused a moment -to look at the stone cross at the foot of which the _Destatore_ had -blown out his brains, and which stood out against the sky on the edge of -the ravine. Then, looking about, he recognized the block of black lava -which Fra Angelo had pointed out to him from a distance, and which -served as a monument to the bandit chief. It was only a few steps away, -and the Piccinino had walked thither and was standing beside the rock, -with folded arms, in the attitude of a man stopping to take breath. - -What could have been the Piccinino's idea in making that dangerous and -useless détour in order to pass his father's grave? Could he be -ignorant of the fact that he was buried there? or was he less reluctant -to walk over his remains than to pass the cross which had witnessed his -suicide? Michel dared not question him upon so painful and delicate a -subject; he too, stopped, said nothing, and wondered why he had felt -such a painful thrill when Fra Angelo had told him of the _Destatore's_ -tragic end. He knew himself well enough to be sure that he was neither -cowardly nor superstitious, and at that moment he felt perfectly calm -and superior to all vain terrors. He had no other sensation than a sort -of disgust and indignation at the appearance of the young bandit, who -was leaning against the fatal rock and tranquilly striking his flint to -light a fresh cigarette. - -"Do you know what this stone is?" demanded the extraordinary young man, -abruptly; "and do you know what happened at the foot of yonder cross -that cuts the moon in two from where we stand?" - -"I do know," replied Michel, coldly; "but I hoped for your sake that you -did not know." - -"Ah! you are like Padre Angelo, are you?" rejoined the bandit, -carelessly; "you are surprised that, when I pass this spot I don't drop -on my knees and recite an _oremus_ for my father's soul? In order to go -through with that classic ceremony three beliefs are requisite, none of -which I have: first, that there is a God; second, that man has an -immortal soul; third, that my prayers can serve the slightest purpose in -case my father's soul is undergoing merited punishment. You consider me -impious, I presume? I will bet that you are as much so as I am, and that -if it weren't for the respect of other men and a sort of hypocritical -sense of propriety to which everybody, even the man of intellect, feels -bound to submit, you would say that I am perfectly right!" - -"I shall never submit to any hypocritical sense of propriety," replied -Michel. "I believe firmly and sincerely in the three things in which you -boast that you do not believe." - -"Ah! then you are horrified by my atheism?" - -"No, for I choose to believe that it is involuntary, and I have no right -to be scandalized by an error, when my own mind certainly is not open to -the absolute truth in many other respects. I am not a devotee, that I -should blame and condemn those who don't think as I do. But I will tell -you frankly that there is one sort of atheism which appals and disgusts -me: that is atheism of the heart, and I am very much afraid that yours -does not flow from the inclination of your mind alone." - -"Good! good! go on!" said the Piccinino, surrounding himself with clouds -of tobacco smoke, with a careless vivacity, perhaps a little forced. -"You think that I have a heart of stone, because I do not shed torrents -of tears to my father's memory over this rock, which I am forced to pass -every day, and on which I have sat a hundred times?" - -"I know that you lost him when you were so young that you could not -regret his companionship. I know that you must be accustomed, almost -indifferent, to the gloomy memories connected with this spot. I say -everything to myself to excuse your lack of feeling, but it does not -justify in my eyes the species of bravado with which you place before -me, designedly, I believe, the strange spectacle. I never knew your -father, and had no tie of kinship with him, and yet the fact that my -uncle loved him dearly and that a portion of his life was made -illustrious by patriotic and valorous deeds is enough to inspire me with -profound respect beside his grave, and to make me feel distressed and -offended by your attitude at this moment." - -"Master Michel," said the Piccinino, abruptly throwing away his -cigarette and turning upon him with a threatening gesture, "it seems to -me that you are a very strange young man to dare to rebuke me in this -way, considering our position with respect to each other. You forget, I -fancy, that I know your secrets, that I am at liberty to be your friend -or your enemy; in short, that, at this moment, in this solitude, in this -infernal spot where I may not be so entirely cold-blooded as you think, -your life is in my hands!" - -"The only thing that I have any reason to fear," rejoined Michel, -calmly, "is that I may play the pedagogue inopportunely. That part is -not suited to my years or my tastes. I will remind you, therefore, that -if you had not incited my comments by a sort of persistence in -questioning me, I should have spared you the infliction. As for your -threats, I will not say that I consider myself able to defend myself as -powerfully and calmly as you would be likely to attack me. I know that, -at a whistle from you, an armed man would start up from behind every -rock in the neighborhood. I trusted to your word, and I did not arm -myself to walk with a man who offered me his hand, saying: 'Let us be -friends.' But if my uncle is mistaken with respect to your loyalty, and -if you have led me into a trap, or--as I should prefer to believe for -your own sake--if the effect of this spot is to disturb your mind and -make you irresponsible, I will none the less tell you what I think, and -I will not stoop to flatter the shortcomings upon which you seem to -plume yourself for my benefit." - -As he concluded, Michel opened his cloak to show the bandit that he had -not even a knife upon his person, then sat down, facing him, and looking -him in the eye with the utmost coolness. It was the first time he had -ever been in such a position, for which he had certainly had no time to -prepare himself, and from which he was not at all sure of extricating -himself unharmed; for as the moon, emerging from behind the _Destatore's -Cross_, fell full upon the young bandit's face, Michel was no longer in -doubt as to the ferocity and treachery of his expression. Nevertheless -Pier-Angelo's son, the nephew of the intrepid Capuchin of Bel Passo, -felt that his heart was untouched by fear, and that the first serious -danger which threatened his young life found him proud and undaunted. - -The Piccinino, seeing how near he was, and that his own face was so -illuminated by the moon, tried for a moment the terrifying effect of his -tiger-like eyes; but having failed to make Michel lower his, and -detecting no sign of poltroonery in his face or attitude, he suddenly -sat down beside him and took his hand. - -"Upon my word," he said, "although I do my utmost to despise you and -hate you, I cannot succeed; I fancy that you have sufficient penetration -to guess that I would rather kill you than save you, as I have -undertaken to do. You are an embarrassment to me in respect to certain -illusions which you can readily imagine: you balk me in certain hopes -which I cherished, and which I am by no means inclined to renounce. But -I am not bound by my word simply, but by a certain sympathetic feeling -for you which I cannot shake off. I should lie if I said that I love -you, and that it is a pleasant occupation to me to defend your life. But -I esteem you, and that is a good deal. I assure you, you did well to -answer me as you did; for now I can confess to you that this place -sometimes brings on fits of madness; and I have formed terrible -resolutions here on many a momentous occasion. You were not safe with me -a moment ago; and I should not care to hear you utter a certain name -again. Let us not stay here any longer, and do you take this stiletto, -which I offered you once before. A Sicilian ought always to be ready to -use it, and to my mind it is utterly insane to go about unarmed in the -position you are in." - -"Let us go," said Michel, mechanically taking the proffered dagger. "My -uncle says that time is important, and that they are waiting for us." - -"Waiting for _us_?" cried the bandit, leaping to his feet. "Waiting for -you, you mean! Damnation! I wish that yonder cross and this stone might -both sink into the ground! Young man, you may believe that I am an -atheist, and that my heart is hard; but if you think it is of -ice----Here, put your hand to it, and learn that desire and will have -their seat there as well as in the brain!" - -He seized Michel's hand roughly, and held it to his breast. It was -heaving with palpitations of such violence that one would have said that -it was on the point of bursting. - -But when they had quitted the ravine, and had left the _Destatore's -Cross_ behind them, the Piccinino began to hum, in a voice as sweet and -pure as the breath of the night, a ballad in the Sicilian dialect, of -which the refrain was: - -"Wine makes madness, love makes folly; my nectar is the blood of -cowards, my mistress is my rifle." - -After this outburst of bravado, addressed to himself as well as to the -ears of any Neapolitan police who might happen to be within hearing, the -Piccinino began to talk with Michel in a remarkably self-possessed and -tranquil strain. He discussed fine arts, literature, external politics, -and the news of the day, with as much freedom, courtesy, and refinement -as if they were in a salon or on a public promenade, and as if neither -of them had any momentous affair on hand, any exciting subject to -engross his thoughts. - -Michel soon realized that the Capuchin had in no wise exaggerated his -pupil's varied knowledge and great talents. In the matter of the dead -languages and classical subjects, Michel was quite unable to hold his -own, for he had had neither the means nor the leisure to go to college -before embracing an artistic career. The Piccinino, seeing that he was -familiar only with translations of the texts which he quoted with an -unfailing accuracy of memory, fell back upon history, modern literature, -Italian poetry, novels, and the stage. Although Michel had read very -extensively for one of his years, and although he had, as he himself put -it, polished and sharpened his mind, hastily, by assimilating everything -that came within his reach, he found that the peasant of Nicolosi, in -the intervals between his hazardous expeditions, in the solitude of his -shady garden, had made even better use of his time than he. It was -wonderful to see a man who could not walk in boots, or breathe in a -cravat, who had never been down to Catania ten times in his life, who -lived in retirement on his mountain, and had never seen the world or -come in contact with cultivated minds, but who had acquired by reading, -reasoning, or the divination of a keen intellect, full knowledge of the -modern world in its most trivial details, as he had acquired in the -cloister knowledge of the ancient world. No subject was unfamiliar to -him; he had learned all by himself several living languages, and he -ostentatiously talked with Michel in pure Tuscan, to show him that no -one at Rome could speak or pronounce it more correctly and melodiously. - -Michel took so much pleasure in listening and replying to him, that he -forgot for a moment the distrust which so complicated a mind and a -character so difficult to define naturally inspired in him. He made the -rest of the journey almost unconsciously, for they were then following -a smooth and safe road; and when they arrived at the park of Palmarosa, -he started with surprise at the thought of finding himself so soon in -Princess Agatha's presence. - -Thereupon all that had happened to him during and after the ball passed -through his memory like a series of strange dreams. A delicious emotion -stole over him, and he no longer felt very indignant or very much -horrified at the pretensions of his companion, as he reflected upon -those which he himself cherished. - - - - -XXVI - -AGATHA - - -Michel himself opened the little gate at which the path which they had -followed came to an end, and, having crossed the park diagonally, stood -at the foot of the staircase cut in the steep rock. The reader will not -have forgotten that the Palmarosa palace was built against a precipitous -slope, and formed three distinct buildings, which ascended the mountain -backward, so to speak; that the topmost floor, called the Casino, being -more isolated and cooler than the others, was occupied, according to the -invariable custom of the country, by the most distinguished person in -the family; that is to say, the mistress's apartments were on a level -with the summit of the cliff, which was transformed into a garden, of -small extent but most charming, at a great height, and on the opposite -side from the main façade of the lower floors. There the princess lived -in retirement, as in a luxurious hermitage, having no need to descend -the staircase of her palace, or to be seen by her servants, when she -chose to take a walk in the fresh air. - -Michel had previously seen this sanctuary, but very hurriedly, as we -know; and when he was sitting there with Magnani during the ball, he was -so excited and talking so earnestly that he had not observed its -arrangement and its surroundings. - -When he came out upon that terrace with the Piccinino, after scaling the -cliff, he obtained a better idea of its location, and observed that it -was so disposed that it was in fact a little fortress. The staircase cut -in the rock was much better adapted for a means of exit than of -entrance; it was so crowded between two walls of lava, and so steep, -that a woman's hand could easily have hurled back an insolent or -dangerous visitor. Moreover, there was on the last stair, with nothing -in the way of a landing between, a small gilt gate, unusually high and -narrow, hung between two slender marble columns as smooth as the masts -of a ship. On the outer side of both these columns was the sheer -precipice, with nothing to grasp except heavy iron scroll-work in the -style of the seventeenth century, fashioned to represent fantastic -dragons, bristling with spikes in every direction; a decoration that -served a double purpose, and was very difficult to surmount when one had -no purchase and a precipice under his feet. - -This fortification, if we may so describe it, was not without its -utility in a region where brigands from the mountain carried on their -operations in the valleys and the plain, even to the very gates of the -cities. Michel observed the defences with the satisfaction of a jealous -lover, but the Piccinino glanced at them with an air of contempt, and -even went so far as to say, while they were ascending the staircase, -that it was a sugar-plum citadel, which would be very effective at a -dessert. - -Michel rang the prescribed number of times, and the gate was immediately -opened. A veiled woman stood there, impatiently awaiting them. In the -darkness, she seized Michel's hand as he entered the garden, and the -young artist, recognizing the Princess Agatha by that gentle pressure, -trembled and lost his head, so that the Piccinino, who did not lose his, -quietly removed the key which Michel had placed in the lock as he rang -the bell. The bandit placed it in his belt after closing the gate, and -when Michel remembered his oversight, it was too late to repair it. They -had all three entered the princess's boudoir, and that was not the -moment to seek a quarrel with a man so entirely free from timidity as -the _Destatore's_ son. - -Agatha had been warned and as fully advised as possible of the character -and habits of the man with whom it was necessary for her to enter into -relations; she was too much of a Sicilian to have any serious prejudices -against the profession of bandit, and she was determined to make the -greatest pecuniary sacrifices in order to make certain of the -Piccinino's services. Nevertheless, she felt, at sight of him, a painful -emotion which she had difficulty in concealing from him; and when he -kissed her hand, gazing at her with his bold and mocking eyes, she was -conscious of a painful feeling of discomfort, and her face changed -perceptibly, although she was able to maintain an affable and courteous -demeanor. - -She knew that her first care must be to flatter the adventurer's secret -vanity, by showing him much consideration and calling him _captain_ to -his heart's content. So she did not fail to bestow that title upon him -as she invited him to sit at her right hand, while there was a more -familiar kindliness in her manner of waving Michel to a chair partly -behind her, near the back of her couch. Then, leaning toward him without -looking at him, and resting her elbow close to his shoulder, as if to be -prepared to call his attention by a movement apparently accidental, she -attempted to enter upon the business before them. - -But the Piccinino, noticing this manœuvre, and apparently considering -that he was too far away from her, left his chair and unceremoniously -seated himself beside her, on the sofa. - -At that moment the Marquis della Serra, who had probably been waiting in -an adjoining room for the conversation to begin, entered noiselessly, -saluted the bandit with silent courtesy, and sat down near Michel, after -shaking hands with him. Michel felt reassured by the presence of the man -whom he could not help looking upon as his rival. He had already begun -to wonder if he should not soon be tempted to throw the Piccinino out of -the window; and as such an exploit might well have some serious result, -he hoped that the bandit would be so far restrained by the marquis's -grave face and dignified bearing, that he would not dare to overstep the -limits of propriety. - -The Piccinino knew that he ran no risk of being betrayed by the Marquis -della Serra; indeed it pleased him to see that great nobleman offer him -pledges of the alliance about to be made with him, to which the marquis -must necessarily become a party. - -"So the Marquis della Serra, too, is my friend and my accomplice?" he -said to Agatha, in a reproachful tone. - -"Signor Carmelo," replied the marquis, "you doubtless know that I was a -near kinsman of the Prince of Castro-Reale, and that, consequently, I am -your near kinsman. I was very young when the _Destatore's_ true name was -discovered by the police of Catania, and perhaps you are aware that I -rendered the outlaw some important services at that time." - -"I am familiar with my father's story," replied the young bandit, "and -it is enough for me to know that the Marquis della Serra has transferred -to me the good-will with which he honored him." - -Gratified in his vanity, resolved not to play a ridiculous rôle, and -equally resolved to make everybody's will bend beneath his own, the -Piccinino desired to carry out his purpose with spirit and good taste. -So he speedily assumed a graceful and dignified attitude on the sofa, -and imparted to his insolent and lustful glance an expression of -benignant and almost respectful interest. - -The princess broke the ice, and set forth the business in hand -concisely, in almost the same words that Fra Angelo had used to induce -the young wolf to leave his den. The Piccinino listened to her -exposition, and his face did not betray the profound incredulity that -lay behind his apparent attention. - -But when the princess had finished, he coolly renewed his question as to -the will, and declared that, in case it had already been abstracted, the -kidnapping of Abbé Ninfo would seem to him a very tardy precaution, and -his own intervention a source of useless trouble and _expense_. - -Princess Agatha had not been horribly unhappy to no purpose. She had -learned to detect the wiles of concealed passions, and her skill in that -respect was not derived from her simple and straightforward mind, but -acquired at her own expense in her relations with natures directly -contrary to her own. So she very soon concluded that the _captain's_ -scruples were feigned, and that he had some secret motive which it was -most essential to discover. - -"Signor captain," she said, "if you have formed that opinion of my -position, we must stop here, for I have asked to see you much more for -the purpose of obtaining your advice than of telling you my ideas. -However, be good enough to listen to some details which it was not in -Fra Angelo's power to give you. - -"My uncle the cardinal has made a will in which he constitutes me his -sole heir; and it was only about ten days ago that, on his way from -Catania to his villa of Ficarazzi, where he now is, he made a détour in -order to pay me a visit which I did not expect. I found my uncle in the -same physical condition as when I saw him a little while before, at -Catania; that is to say, helpless, deaf, and unable to speak distinctly -enough to make himself understood without the assistance of Abbé Ninfo, -who knows or guesses his desires with rare sagacity--unless he -interprets or translates them to suit himself with unmeasured insolence! -However, on that occasion, Abbé Ninfo seemed to me to follow my uncle's -wishes in every respect; for the object of that visit was to show me the -will, and to inform me that the cardinal's affairs were in perfect -order." - -"Who showed you the will, signora?" said the Piccinino; "for his -eminence cannot move his arm or his hand at all, can he?" - -"Patience, captain, I will not omit any detail. Doctor Recuperati, the -cardinal's physician, had charge of the will, and I understood clearly -enough, from my uncle's glances and his excitement, that he did not wish -that document to leave his hands. Two or three times Abbé Ninfo came -forward to take it, on the pretext of handing it to me, and my uncle -glared at him with his terrible eyes and roared like a dying lion. The -doctor replaced the will in his portfolio and said to me: 'I beg that -your ladyship will not share his eminence's anxiety. However great the -esteem and confidence inspired by Abbé Ninfo, this paper having been -entrusted to my keeping, no other person than myself--not even the Pope -or the king--shall touch a document of so much importance to you.' -Doctor Recuperati is an honorable, incorruptible man, and as firm as a -rock in emergencies." - -"True, signora," said the bandit, "but he is stupid, and Abbé Ninfo is -not." - -"I am well aware that Abbé Ninfo is audacious enough to invent some -sort of a fable and lead the excellent doctor into a commonplace trap. -That is why I have requested you, captain, to remove that hateful -schemer from the scene for a time." - -"I will do it, if it is not too late; for I should not care to risk my -bones for nothing, and especially to endanger my reputation for talent, -for which I care more than for my life. Once more, signora, do you think -that it is not too late to resort to this expedient?" - -"If it is too late, captain, it has been so not more than two hours," -replied Agatha, observing him closely; "for, two hours ago, I paid a -visit to my uncle, and the doctor, at a sign from him, showed me the -paper once more, in Abbé Ninfo's presence." - -"And it was the same?" - -"Absolutely the same." - -"There was no codicil in Ninfo's favor?" - -"Not a word had been changed or added. The priest himself, who blandly -pretends to be interested in my behalf, and whose every sidelong glance -seems to say to me: 'You will have to pay me for my zeal,' insisted on -my re-reading the paper carefully." - -"And you did it?" - -"I did it." - -The Piccinino, in view of the princess's self-possession and -tranquillity, began to form a more exalted idea of her merit; for -hitherto he had seen in her nothing more than a seductive and charming -woman. - -"I am very well satisfied with these explanations," he said; "but, -before taking any steps, I must know something more. Are you quite sure, -signora, that within the last two hours Abbé Ninfo has not taken Doctor -Recuperati by the throat and extorted that paper from him?" - -"How can I know, captain? You alone can tell me, when you have consented -to begin your secret investigation. However, the doctor is a strong and -brave man, and his simplicity would not go so far as to allow himself to -be robbed by a weak, chicken-hearted creature like Abbé Ninfo." - -"But what would prevent Ninfo, who is a scoundrel of the first order, -and has relations with all the greatest villains in the country, from -hiring a _bravo_, who, for an _honorable_ reward, may have lain in wait -for the doctor and murdered him--or who is all ready to do it at this -moment?" - -The tone in which the Piccinino presented this suggestion caused the -three persons who were listening to him a painful shock. - -"Poor doctor!" cried the princess, turning pale; "can it be that such a -crime has been planned or executed? In heaven's name, explain yourself, -signor captain!" - -"Never fear, signora, that crime has not been committed; but it might -have been, for it was determined upon." - -"In that case, signor," said the princess, seizing both the bandit's -hands with a gesture of entreaty, "pray go at once. Save the life of an -honorable man, and make sure of the person of a vile knave, capable of -any crime." - -"And suppose the will falls into my hands during the battle?" said the -bandit, rising but not releasing the princess's hands, which he had -seized in a firm grasp as soon as they touched his. - -"The will, signor captain?" she replied, energetically. "Of what moment -is half of my fortune, when it is a question of saving victims from the -assassin's dagger? I care not what happens to the will. Seize the -monster who covets it. Ah! if I thought that I could satisfy his -resentment by giving it up to him, he might long ago have looked upon -himself as its undisturbed possessor!" - -"But suppose that I become its possessor?" said the adventurer, -fastening his lynx eyes on Agatha's; "that would not suit Ninfo, who -knows very well that his eminence is in no condition to make or even to -dictate another. But would you, signora, who have been imprudent enough -to tell me what I did not know, who have informed me to what a -ridiculous custodian a document of so great importance has been -entrusted--would you be perfectly at ease?" - -The princess had understood for a long time that the bandit would do -nothing unless he could see a possibility of obtaining possession of the -will to his own advantage. She had powerful reasons for being ready to -sacrifice it to him, and to hand over an enormous sum to him without -regret, when he should come to bargain with her for the restitution of -her proof of inheritance; for everybody knew, and the bandit, who seemed -to have studied the affair so carefully beforehand, probably was not -ignorant of the fact, that there was an earlier will in the hands of a -notary, which disinherited Agatha in favor of a distant relation. In a -paroxysm of hatred and resentment against his niece, the cardinal had -made that first will, and had made no secret of the fact. To be sure, -when he became so ill, and received from her marks of sincere respect -and affection, he had made different arrangements. But he had left the -previous will in existence, in case it should be his pleasure to destroy -the new one. When the wicked have a good impulse, they always leave a -door open for the return of their evil genius. - -Agatha had already made up her mind with respect to the Piccinino's -ambitions; but by the way in which he allowed them to appear, she -understood that there was a large admixture of vanity in his avarice, -and she had the fortunate inspiration to gratify both of the bandit's -passions at the same time. - -"Signor de Castro-Reale," she said, making an effort to pronounce a name -that she abhorred, and to confer it upon him as a title rightfully -belonging to the _Destatore's_ natural child, "the will would be so safe -in your hands, that I should be glad if I could place it there myself." - -Agatha had conquered. The bandit's head was completely turned, and -another passion, which was contending with greed in his heart, gained -the upper hand in a twinkling. He put both of the signora's trembling -hands to his lips and bestowed upon them a kiss so long and so -passionate that Michel and the marquis himself shuddered. Another hope -than that of wealth took possession of the Piccinino's brain. A violent -passion had sprung to life within him on the night of the ball, when he -saw her admired and coveted by so many men whom she did not even deign -to notice, himself included; for she believed that she had never seen -him before this interview, although he hoped that she was simply -pretending not to recognize his face. - -He had been incited especially by the apparent hopelessness of such a -conquest. Although somewhat disdainful and apparently chaste with the -women of his own station, the Piccinino had the appetites of a wild -beast; but vanity filled so large a place in all his instincts that he -rarely had an opportunity to satisfy them. This time the opportunity was -still uncertain, but the prospect was most intoxicating to his -enterprising, obstinate nature, fruitful in expedients, and enamored of -difficult exploits, reputed to be impossible. - -"Well, signora," he cried at last, in a chivalrous tone, "your -confidence in me proceeds from a noble heart, and I will not fail to -justify it. Have no fear for Doctor Recuperati: he is in no danger -whatsoever. It is quite true that Abbé Ninfo made a bargain this very -day with a certain man, who promised to murder him; but, not only does -the abbé propose to wait until the cardinal is on his death-bed, which -is not the case as yet, but the dagger which is to strike your friend -will not leave its sheath without my permission. There is no reason for -such great haste, therefore, and I can safely return to my mountain for -a few days. Ninfo is to come in person to advise us of the favorable -moment to bury the knife in the good doctor's ample waistcoat, and, when -that moment comes, instead of performing that agreeable duty, we will -seize the abbé's person, begging him to enjoy the mountain air with us -until it shall please your ladyship to restore his liberty." - -The princess, who had been perfectly self-possessed thus far, became -perturbed and replied in a quivering voice: - -"I thought, captain, that you knew of another circumstance which makes -us all very impatient to know that Abbé Ninfo is on the mountain. -Doctor Recuperati is not the only one of my friends who is in danger, -and I instructed Fra Angelo to tell you our other reasons for desiring -to be rid of his presence forthwith." - -The catlike Piccinino had not finished playing with the victim he -coveted. He pretended not to understand or not to remember that Michel -and his father were principally interested in the abbé's abduction. - -"I think," he said, "that your highness exaggerates the dangers of -Ninfo's presence about the cardinal. You must be aware that his eminence -has the most profound contempt for that underling; that he can hardly -endure his presence, although he realizes the advantage of having so -zealous and quick-witted an interpreter; in short, that the cardinal, -while he may need his services, will never allow him to meddle with his -affairs. Your highness knows that there is a small legacy for the poor -abbé in the will, and I fancy that you will not stoop to contest the -payment of it." - -"No, surely not!" replied the princess, surprised to find that the -bandit was so familiar with the contents of the will; "but it is not the -paltry fear that the abbé may obtain more or less money from the -cardinal that I have in my mind at this moment, I assure you. I have -already told you, captain, and Fra Angelo also must have told you, that -his brother and nephew are in great danger so long as Abbé Ninfo is in -a position to injure them with my uncle, the cardinal, and the -Neapolitan police." - -"Ah!" said the crafty Piccinino, putting his hand to his forehead, "I -had forgotten that, and yet it is a matter of importance to you, -princess, I agree. Indeed I have several things to tell you in that -connection which you do not know. But it is a very delicate subject," he -said, feigning hesitation, "and it would be difficult for me to explain -myself in the presence of the two gentlemen who honor me with their -attention." - -"You can say anything before the Marquis della Serra and Michelangelo -Lavoratori," said the princess, somewhat alarmed. - -"No, signora, I know my duty too well to do so, and my respect for you -is too great to allow me to forget the proprieties to that point. If -your highness is disposed to listen to me without witnesses, I will -inform you of what has been planned and determined upon. If not," he -added, pretending to be preparing to go, "I will go and wait at Nicolosi -until you deign to advise me of the day and hour when it will be -agreeable to you to listen to me." - -"At once, signor, at once," rejoined the princess hastily. "I am more -interested and more alarmed because the lives of my friends are -endangered for my sake than by any question of money. Come," she added, -rising, and resolutely placing her arm in the bandit's, "we will talk in -my flower-garden, and these gentlemen will await us here. Stay, stay, my -friends," she said to the marquis and Michel, who would have retired, -although the idea of that tête-à-tête caused them both an indefinable -dread; "I really need a breath of fresh air, and Signor de Castro-Reale -is kind enough to offer me his arm." - -Michel and the marquis, as soon as they were alone, looked at each other -as if they had had the same thought, and, hastening each to a window, -stood where they would not lose sight of the princess for an instant, -although they could not overhear a conversation from which she herself -seemed content to exclude them. - - - - -XXVII - -DIPLOMACY - - -"How did it happen, dear princess," said the bandit, in a careless tone, -as soon as he and Agatha were in the garden, arm-in-arm, "that you were -imprudent enough to try to make me speak of Michel in presence of a -cicisbeo so valuable to you as the Marquis della Serra? Your highness -forgets one thing: that if I know the secrets of Villa Ficarazzi, I -probably know those of Villa Palmarosa as well, since Abbé Ninfo -maintains an equally assiduous surveillance over both houses." - -"So Abbé Ninfo has seen you first, eh, captain?" rejoined the princess, -trying to assume an equally unembarrassed tone; "and he took you into -his confidence in order to obtain your services in his interest?" - -Agatha knew very well what to think in that respect. Certainly, if she -had not discovered that the abbé had already sought the Piccinino's -assistance in abducting, or perhaps murdering Michel, she would not have -thought it necessary to resort to him in order to procure the abduction -of the abbé. But she was careful not to allow her real motive to be -discovered. She desired that the bandit's self-love should be flattered -by what he might consider an instinctive impulse on her part. - -"From whatever source I derive my information," he replied, with a -smile, "I leave it to you to judge of its accuracy. The last time that -the cardinal came to visit your highness, there was a young man at the -gate of your park whose distinguished features and bearing were in -striking contrast with his costume, which was covered with dust and worn -by a long journey. What caprice induced the cardinal to examine that -young man and to insist upon questioning him? that is something which -Ninfo himself does not know and has commissioned me to find out, if -possible. One thing is certain: that the mania, which has beset the -cardinal for a long time, of inquiring the name and age of all the young -men of the lower classes whose faces attract his attention, has survived -the loss of activity and memory. It is as if he still retained a sort of -vague distrust, a relic of his exalted police functions; and his -imperative glance commands Abbé Ninfo to ask questions and report to -him. It is true that when the abbé showed him the written result of his -investigation, he seemed to take no interest in it; in like manner, -whenever the abbé annoys him with his impertinent requests or -insinuating questions, his eminence, after reading the first words, -closes his eyes angrily, to show that he doesn't wish to be fatigued any -more. Perhaps your highness did not know these details, which Doctor -Recuperati knows nothing of; for, during the few hours' sleep which the -excellent doctor is permitted to enjoy, the watchfulness of the devoted -servants with whom Your Highness has surrounded the cardinal does not -avail to prevent Ninfo from entering his room, waking him without -ceremony, and placing before him certain written sentences from which he -hopes for favorable results. When the cardinal is awakened in this way, -his pain and his anger make his mind momentarily more lucid than usual; -he reads, seems to understand, and tries to utter words of which an -occasional syllable is intelligible to his persecutor; but almost -immediately he collapses again, and the feeble flame of his life is so -much nearer extinction." - -"So that villain has ceased to be a mere flatterer and spy, to become my -unfortunate uncle's torturer and assassin?" cried the princess, -indignantly. "You must see, signor captain, that he must be delivered -from him at once, and that I need no other motive for desiring that he -be taken out of our way." - -"Pardon me, signora," rejoined the bandit, obstinately. "If I had not -informed you of these things, you would still have personal motives of -even greater weight, which you do not choose to tell me, but which I -have learned from Ninfo. I never enter into an affair without making -myself thoroughly acquainted with it; and it sometimes falls to my lot, -as you see, to question both parties. Permit me to continue my -disclosures, therefore, and I trust that they will lead to disclosures -on your part. - -"Abbé Ninfo did not examine very closely or ask many questions of the -individual at your highness's park gate. After a moment, seeing that the -cardinal continued somewhat agitated by the encounter, as if the young -man's face had aroused memories which he could not arrange and -place,--for his eminence often wears himself out, it seems, in such -painful mental toil,--the abbé retraced his steps and examined the -young man more carefully. The young man evidently had some reason for -being on his guard, for he deceived the abbé, who really took him for a -poor devil, and even gave him alms. But two days later, the abbé, -having, for the purpose of spying, disguised himself as a workman -employed in the preparations for your ball, soon discovered that his -poor devil was a brilliant artist, very much petted and favored by your -highness, and by no means in a position to accept alms at the gate of a -palace, since he is the son of a well-to-do artisan, Pier-Angelo -Lavoratori. - -"On the night succeeding this discovery, the abbé did not fail to place -before Monsignor Hieronymo a sheet of paper containing this information -in large letters. But by dint of trying to tighten the last remaining -chords of the instrument, the abbé broke them. The cardinal did not -understand. The names of Pier-Angelo and Michelangelo Lavoratori -conveyed no meaning to him. He muttered a violent oath because Ninfo -disturbed his slumber. And so," added the Piccinino, with malicious -significance, "the fears which your highness entertains, or pretends to -entertain, with respect to Pier-Angelo are entirely without foundation. -Although the cardinal long ago prosecuted that excellent man as a -conspirator, he has so completely forgotten him that even Ninfo has no -hope of reviving the memory of an affair of which he himself knows -nothing, and your protégé is in no danger from any denunciation by -him, at present." - -"I breathe again," said the princess, allowing the bandit to take her -hand in his, and even responding to his pressure, with generous -confidence. "Your words do me good, captain, and I bless you for having -confidence enough in me to reveal the truth to me. That was my whole -fear; but, since the cardinal remembers nothing and the abbé knows -nothing, I trust to your sagacity for the rest. Look you, captain, it -seems to me this is what we have to do. Do you find in your fertile -genius some method of obtaining possession of the will, and see that the -abbé is informed of it, so that there will be no further occasion for -him to persecute the worthy doctor; then keep the abbé's attention -diverted so that he will allow my unfortunate uncle to die in peace. -That will conclude by diplomatic methods an affair in which I have -feared that blood might be shed over paltry questions of money." - -"Your excellency goes very fast!" rejoined the Piccinino. "The abbé -cannot be put to sleep so easily with regard to another subject, which -it is impossible for me, despite my respect, my awe and my -embarrassment, to pass over in silence." - -"Speak, speak!" said Agatha, hastily. - -"Very well, since your highness authorizes me to do so, and does not -choose to understand a hint, I will tell you that Abbé Ninfo, while in -quest of political intrigues which he has not succeeded in discovering, -has put his hand upon a love affair which he has turned to his -advantage." - -"I do not understand," said the princess, with an air of sincerity that -startled the adventurer. - -"Can Ninfo have been gulling me," he thought, "or is this woman strong -enough to hold her own against me? We will see." - -"Signora," he said, in a honeyed tone, holding Agatha's hand against his -breast, "you will detest me, I suppose. However, I must serve you -against your will by telling you what I know. The abbé discovered that -Michelangelo was admitted every day at certain hours to the private -apartment in your Casino; that he did not eat with your servants or with -the other workmen, but with you, in secret; in a word, that, when he -took his siesta, he rested from his artistic labors in the arms of the -loveliest and most lovable of women." - -"It is false!" cried the princess; "it is an abominable falsehood. I -treated that young man with the distinction which I considered that I -owed to his talent and his ideas. He ate with his father in a room next -to mine, and took his siesta in my picture gallery. Abbé Ninfo did not -watch very closely, or he might have told you that Michel, being utterly -tired out, passed two or three nights under my roof." - -"He told me that, too," replied the Piccinino, who always chose to seem -to know beforehand what anyone told him. - -"Very well, Signor de Castro-Reale," said Agatha, in a firm voice, -looking him full in the face, "there is no doubt about the fact; but I -can swear upon my mother's soul and your mother's that that young man -never saw me until the day of the ball, when his father first introduced -him to me, in presence of two hundred mechanics. I talked to him during -the ball, on the main staircase, and the Marquis della Serra, who was -escorting me, complimented him, as I did myself, upon his paintings. -From that moment down to this very evening Michel had never seen me; ask -himself! You are not a man whom one can deceive, captain; use your -perspicacity, and I will trust it." - -The Piccinino quivered with pleasure at this concise declaration, made -with the assurance which truth alone can give, and he pressed Agatha's -hand against his breast with such force that she detected his sentiments -at last. She had a moment of terror, augmented by a ghastly -reminiscence. But she realized, in a flash, the full extent of the -dangers to which Michel had been exposed, and, postponing the matter of -her own safety to a more favorable season, she determined to deal -tenderly with Carmelo Tomabene's pride. - -"What motive could Abbé Ninfo have had in telling us that extraordinary -story?" he exclaimed. - -Agatha fancied that she could understand that the abbé had detected the -violent passion for herself by which she saw at last that the bandit was -possessed, and that he had endeavored to incite him to vengeance by his -tale of intrigue. "If that is so," she thought, "I will use the same -weapons, vile Ninfo, since you have been kind enough to furnish me with -them." - -"Listen, captain," she said; "you who know men so well and read so -readily the innermost folds of the conscience, must have discovered -that, in addition to all his manifest vices, the abbé is an insatiable -libertine? Do you suppose that he has confined himself to coveting my -inheritance? did he not let you see that it was not for money alone that -he would try to sell me a part of it if he should succeed in obtaining -possession of it?" - -"Yes!" cried the Piccinino, this time with the utmost sincerity; "I -thought that I could detect revolting desires and hopes on the part of -that monster of ugliness and lust. His affected incredulity concerning -the possibility of resistance by a woman, in such cases, is simply an -attempt to console himself when he thinks of his own physical and moral -ugliness. Yes, yes, I suspected it in spite of his hypocrisy. I will not -say that he loves you; that would be a profanation of the word love; but -he desires you, and he is jealous. Jealous, do I say! Ah! that word -again is too respectable! Jealousy is the passion of young hearts, and -his is decrepit. He suspects and detests everybody about you. In fact, -he has devised an infernal method of conquering you: judging rightly -that the desire to ransom your inheritance would not suffice, and -supposing that you loved this young artist, he has determined to use him -as a hostage and to compel you to purchase at his own price the life and -liberty of Michelangelo." - -"I ought to have expected that," replied the princess, affecting an air -of contemptuous tranquillity, although her whole body was bathed in cold -perspiration. "And so he selected you, captain, as his associate in an -undertaking worthy of those men who devote themselves to the most -hideous of all trades, the mere name of which is so degrading that no -true woman could bear to speak it in any tongue! It seems to me that -that mark of confidence on the part of the excellent Abbé Ninfo merits -a somewhat severe punishment at your hands!" - -Agatha had touched the right chord. The abbé's execrable projects, -which had previously moved the young bandit to nothing more than -satirical contempt, appeared to him now in the light of a personal -insult and kindled the thirst for vengeance in him. So true is it that -love, even in a wild, unbridled heart, arouses the sentiment of manly -dignity. - -"Severe punishment!" he said, in a deep voice, with clenched teeth; "he -shall have it!--But," he added, "have no further anxiety about anything, -signora; deign to place your fate in my hands unreservedly." - -"My fate is already in your hands, captain," replied Agatha; "my -fortune, my reputation, and the lives of my friends: think you that I -have an anxious air?" - -And she looked him through and through with a profound gaze, wherein she -was so happily inspired by the superior sagacity of the courageous -woman, that the Piccinino felt its influence and found that respect and -awe were mingled with his passion.--"Ah! you romantic woman," he -thought, "you have not outgrown the belief that a bandit chief must be a -stage hero or a chevalier of the Middle Ages! And here am I compelled to -play that part for your pleasure! Very well, I will play it. Nothing is -difficult to him who has read much and reasoned much.--Indeed, why -should I not be a hero in good earnest?" he said to himself, as he -walked silently beside that trembling woman whom he believed to be so -trustful and confiding, pressing her arm to his side with his own -trembling arm. "If I have not deigned to be one hitherto, it is simply -because the opportunity has never offered, and my essays at grandeur -would have been absurd. With such a woman as this, the game is well -worth the candle, and I cannot believe that it is difficult to be -sublime when the reward is destined to be so sweet. It is an undertaking -founded upon a selfish motive more elevated, but no less substantial or -less logical than others." - -Before assuming definitively the attitude of the princess's true knight, -he determined to do away with a lingering remnant of distrust, and he -was almost ingenuous in seeking to cure himself of it. - -"The only weakness of which I am conscious," he said, "is the dread of -playing a ridiculous rôle. Ninfo wished me to play an infamous one, he -shall be punished for it; but if your highness really loves that young -man--why, that young man also will have reason to regret having deceived -me!" - -"How am I to understand you?" rejoined Agatha, leading him into the ray -of light which the chandelier in her boudoir cast into the garden; "I do -really love Michelangelo, Pier-Angelo, and Fra Angelo, as devoted -friends and estimable men. To rescue them from the enmity of a villain I -would give all the money that anyone might ask. But look at me, captain, -and look at that young man musing yonder behind that window. Do you -consider that there can possibly exist a bond based upon impure passion -between two persons of our respective ages and conditions? You do not -know my character. Nobody has ever understood it. Will you be the first -one to do it justice? I wish it might be so, for I care very much for -your esteem, and I should think that I was wholly undeserving of it if I -entertained for that child sentiments which I feared to allow you to -detect." - -As she spoke, Agatha, who had dropped the bandit's arm, took it again to -return to the boudoir; and he was so grateful to her for that mark of -trustful friendship, of which she desired Michel and the marquis to be -witnesses, that he felt intoxicated and, as it were, beside himself with -joy. - - - - -XXVIII - -JEALOUSY - - -Neither the marquis nor Michel had heard a word of the conversation we -have reported. But the first was tranquil in his mind, the other was -not. The marquis, having assured himself that the princess was calm, had -no fear that she incurred any immediate danger with the brigand; whereas -Michel, not being familiar with her character, suffered keenly at the -bare thought that the Piccinino might, in his speech, have gone beyond -the bounds of respect. His suffering was intensified when he saw the -Piccinino's face as he returned to the boudoir. - -That face, ordinarily so indifferent and composed, was, as it were, -illuminated by confidence and joy. The little man seemed to have grown a -cubit taller, and his black eyes flashed flames which one would not have -believed could be kindled in a head so cool and calculating. - -No sooner had the princess, who was somewhat fatigued from having walked -a long while in a small space, seated herself on the couch, to which he -escorted her with the most dignified courtesy, than he fell, rather than -sat down upon a chair, on the other side of the small boudoir, but with -his face turned toward her as if he had stationed himself there to gaze -at her in the glare of the chandelier. In truth, the Piccinino, after -having enjoyed in the garden the sweetness of her voice, the flattering -significance of her words, and the softness of her hand, desired, in -order to put the finishing touch to the sensuous delight which he had -felt for the first time in his life, to gaze at her at his leisure, -without the labor of speech or of thought. He fell into a silent -meditation, more eloquent than Michel could have desired. He feasted his -bold eyes with the sight of that exquisite and fascinating woman, whom -it seemed to him that he already possessed, as with a treasure which he -had stolen, and which he took pleasure in gloating over, as it lay -gleaming before him. - -The young painter's distress was intensified by the fact that, under the -mysterious influence of that all-pervading passion, which but just born -was already spreading with the rapidity of a conflagration, the bandit -acquired a strange power of fascination. His exquisite beauty shone -forth like a star emerging from the vapors on the horizon. All that was -unusual in the outlines of his features and disquieting in their veiled -expression gave way to a subtle charm, an overpowering effusiveness, -albeit silent, and, as it were, overwhelmed by its own ardor. He was -lying back in his chair, but no longer affected indifference or -absent-mindedness. His hanging arms, his bent back, his eyes, glistening -and fascinated, and fixed intently on the princess, indicated that he -was shattered, as it were, by the explosion of a force unknown to -himself, and drowned in the anticipated joys of his triumph. Michel was -afraid of him for the first time. He would still have defied him -fearlessly in the ill-omened solitude of the _Destatore's Cross_; but in -that room, radiant with a strange ecstasy, he seemed too overpowering -for any woman to escape the fascination of that basilisk glance. - -However, Agatha did not seem to notice it, and whenever he turned his -eyes from the bandit to her, he found her apparently calm and -undisturbed, having no thought either of attacking or of defending -herself. - -"My friends," she said, after pausing a moment to take breath, "we can -say good-night and separate with our minds at rest. I place my full -confidence in this new friend whom Providence, acting through the wisdom -of Fra Angelo, has sent to us. You will share my confidence when I tell -you that he knew beforehand, and knew far better than ourselves, what we -had to fear and to hope." - -"It is a decidedly interesting affair, it is true," said the Piccinino, -making an effort to emerge from his dreaming; "and it is time that this -young man should know why I roared with laughter when he came to see me. -You will laugh too, I hope, Master Michelangelo, when you learn that you -came and entrusted your fate to a man who had been strenuously urged, an -hour earlier, to do you a bad turn; and if I were not calm and prudent -in such affairs, if I believed blindly the words of those who came to -consult me, while you were urging me in her highness's behalf to kidnap -Abbé Ninfo, I should have seized you and thrown you into my cellar, -securely bound and gagged, at the request of Abbé Ninfo. I see by your -manner that you would have resisted vigorously. Oh! I know that you are -brave, and I fancy that you are stronger than I. You have an uncle who -has kept his muscles in play so persistently for twenty years past, -breaking stone, that he cannot have lost any of the strength which -caused him to be called _Iron Arm_ when he plied another trade on the -mountain; but, when one is engaged in a matter of great political -moment, one takes precautions, and I had but to touch a little bell to -have my house surrounded by determined men, who would not have afforded -you even the pleasure of resistance." - -Having spoken thus, his eyes fixed upon Michel with a playful -expression, the Piccinino turned again to the princess. She had -concealed her pallor behind her fan, and when the brigand met her eyes, -they were armed with a tranquil expression which dispelled the last -traces of his ironical humor. The secret pleasure which it always -afforded him to frighten those who ventured into his presence -disappeared before that womanly glance, which seemed to say to him: "You -shall not do it, I forbid you." - -So that he at once assumed an expression of hearty good-will, and said -to Michel: - -"You see, my young friend, that I had my reasons for insisting upon an -explanation of the affair, and for not being in too much of a hurry. Now -that I am convinced that honor and truth are on one side, infamy and -falsehood on the other, my choice is made, and you can sleep with both -eyes shut. I propose to go with you to Catania," he added, addressing -Michel in an undertone, "where I must arrange the worthy abbé's -departure for to-morrow. But I absolutely require two hours' rest. Can -you promise me a corner in your house where I can sleep soundly for two -hours without danger of being seen? For my features are hardly known in -the city, and I do not wish them to become known there until it is -necessary. Tell me, can I enter your house without fear of inquisitive -eyes, especially women's eyes?" - -"I have a young sister who is moderately inquisitive," replied Michel -smiling; "but she will be in bed at this time of night. Trust me, as I -trusted you; I will give you my own bed, and sit up in the room if you -wish." - -"I accept," said the bandit, who, while talking with Michel, was trying -to overhear the words, unimportant in themselves, which the princess was -exchanging with the marquis, in order not to embarrass the conversation -between the two young men. Michel observed that, notwithstanding the -Piccinino's assertion that he could not do two things at once, he did -not lose a gesture, a word, or a movement of Agatha's, while he was -talking with him. - -When he was assured of the two hours' absolute rest which was, he said, -indispensable to put him in a condition to act intelligently, the -Piccinino rose and prepared to retire. But the coquettish moderation -with which he arranged his cloak about his flexible figure, the languid -grace of his preoccupied air during that momentous operation, and the -imperceptible quivering of his silky black moustache, showed plainly -enough that he went away with regret, and after the manner of a man who -is striving to dispel the mists of drunkenness in order to return to -work. - -"You do not wish to be seen?" said Agatha; "then step into the marquis's -carriage with Michel. He will drive you to the outskirts of the city, -and you can slip through the narrow streets." - -"Many thanks, signora!" replied the bandit. "I have no desire to take -your servants and the signor marquis's into my confidence. To-morrow -morning Abbé Ninfo, whose discernment exceeds their discretion, would -learn that a mountaineer came out of your apartments whom nobody had -seen go in; and the excellent abbé, thinking that that performance -savored somewhat of the _bravo_, would insult me by withdrawing the -confidence with which he honors me. I must be his fidus Achates and his -very good friend for twelve hours more. I will go out with Michel as I -came." - -"And when shall I see you again?" said Agatha, courageously offering him -her hand, despite the lustful flame in his unshrinking eyes. - -"You will not see me again," he replied, putting one knee to the floor -and kissing her hand with a sort of frenzy in marked contrast to the -humility of his attitude, "until your orders are carried out. I cannot -fix the day and hour, but I will answer for the safety of all your -friends--even the stout doctor--with my life! I know the way to your -Casino. When I ring _one_, _three_ and _seven_ at the gate of your -flower-garden, will your ladyship deign to admit me to your presence?" - -"You can rely upon it, captain," she replied, giving no sign of the -alarm caused her by that request. - -The Marquis della Serra did not fail to take his leave at the same time -that the two young men went from the boudoir into the garden. His -respect for the princess was so punctilious that he would not for the -world have assumed the attitude of a favored lover. But he descended the -staircase of the palace slowly, still disturbed in mind, and ready to go -up again at the slightest noise. - -On leaving the garden, the Piccinino locked the gate himself and handed -the key to Michel, reproaching him for his carelessness. - -"Except for me," he said, "this all-important key--this key that cannot -be replaced--would have been left in the lock." - -A moment's self-possession, before entering the boudoir, had sufficed -for the bandit to take the impression of the key on a lump of wax which -he always carried with him for emergencies. - -They had no sooner started down the staircase cut in the rock than -Agatha's maid, who was entirely devoted to her, came to her and said: - -"The young man whom your highness sent for is waiting in the picture -gallery." - -Agatha put her finger to her lips to warn the maid to speak lower on -such occasions, and went down to the floor below, where Magnani had been -waiting more than half an hour. - -Poor Magnani had been more dead than alive since he received the -princess's mysterious message. Being very different from the Piccinino, -he was so far from entertaining the slightest hope that he imagined the -worst that could possibly happen. "I must have made a terrible mistake," -he said to himself, "in confiding to Michel the secret of my folly. He -probably talked about it with his sister, and Mila has seen the -princess, who treats her like a spoiled child. The chatter of that girl, -who cannot understand the gravity of such a disclosure, terrified and -disgusted the princess. But why not banish me without any explanation? -What can she say to me that will not be horribly painful and uselessly -cruel?" - -That hour of suspense seemed to him a century. He was cold; he felt as -if he should die, when the secret door of the gallery opened -noiselessly, and he saw Agatha approaching him, pale with the excitement -through which she had just passed, and diaphanous in her white lace -cape. The enormous gallery was lighted only by a single glass lamp. It -seemed to him that the princess did not walk, but that she glided toward -him, after the manner of a ghost. - -She approached without hesitation, and offered him her hand as if he -were an intimate friend. And, as he hesitated to give her his, thinking -that he was dreaming, fearing that he might misunderstand the meaning of -that gesture, she said to him in a soft but firm voice: - -"Give me your hand, my child, and tell me if you still feel for me the -friendship which you once expressed when you thought that you owed me -some gratitude for your mother's cure. Do you remember? I have never -forgotten that generous outburst of your heart!" - -Magnani could not reply. He dared not put Agatha's hand to his lips. He -pressed it gently in his as he bent over it. She felt that he was -trembling. - -"You are very timid," she said; "I hope that if you are afraid of me -there is no touch of distrust in your fear. I must speak to you quickly; -do you answer in the same way. Are you disposed to do me a very great -favor, at the risk of your life? I ask it in your mother's name!" - -Magnani fell on his knees. Only with his eyes, which were streaming with -tears, could he testify his enthusiasm and his devotion. Agatha -understood him. - -"You must return to Catania," she said; "run until you overtake two men -who have just left here and who will not have five minutes' start of -you. One is Michelangelo Lavoratori; you can readily recognize him in -the moonlight. The other is a mountaineer wrapped in his cloak. Follow -them without seeming to watch them, but do not lose sight of them. At -the least suspicious gesture on that man's part, you will hurl yourself -upon him and throw him down. You are strong," she added, touching the -young artisan's robust arm; "but he is active and cunning. Be on your -guard! See, here is a dagger; use it only in self-defence. That man is -either my enemy or my preserver, I do not know which. Spare his life, if -possible. Fly with Michel, if you can thereby avoid a bloody battle. You -live in the same house with Michel, do you not?" - -"Almost, signora." - -"Be where you can assist him at the first alarm. Do not go to bed; pass -the night as near his room as you can. The man I speak of will go away -before daylight; do not leave your house and do not let Michel go away -unless you go together, always together, do you understand? And be ready -until I give different orders. To-morrow I will explain everything to -you; I will see you. Rely upon me, from this day forth, as a second -mother. Come, my child, follow me; I will put you on the track of Michel -and his companion." - -She took him by the arm and hastily led him up to the Casino, which they -passed through without a word. She opened the garden gate, and pointing -to the staircase in the rock, "Go," she said, "celerity, caution, and -your noble heart, the heart of a man of the people, for your friend's -buckler!" - -Magnani descended the stairs as swiftly and noiselessly as an arrow. He -wasted no time in reflection, nor did he exhaust the force of his -determination by worrying. He did not even ask himself the question -whether Michel was his fortunate rival, and whether he should not be -tempted to run him through the heart. Impelled by the magic force which -Agatha's hand and breath had given him, he was all ready to lay down his -life for that favored child of fortune, and he felt no more regret than -hesitation at the thought of sacrificing himself thus. Nay, more, he was -happy and proud to obey the woman he loved, and her words rang in his -heart like a voice from Heaven. - -He was soon in the fields and discovered two men walking along a path. -He recognized Michel; he recognized the mountaineer's cloak. He took -pains not to show himself; but he measured with a glance the distance -and the obstacles that he would have to pass over in case of an alarm. -The mountaineer stopped for a moment, talking earnestly. Magnani, with a -determined effort of strength and activity, which under other -circumstances would have been beyond the power of man, reached a point -sufficiently near to overhear him, and found that he was talking of love -and poetry. - -He allowed them to gain on him again, and, gliding through a narrow path -among the blocks of lava that lay in great heaps at the entrance to the -city, he arrived before them in the yard of the adjoining houses -occupied by his family and Michel's. He watched his young friend and his -suspicious guest enter the house. Then Magnani made the circuit of the -houses, looking for a place where he could pass the night, unseen, but -within hearing of the slightest noise, the slightest commotion inside. - - - - -XXIX - -APPARITIONS - - -Pier-Angelo had been notified by the princess and by a message from the -monk of Mal Passo, that he must not be alarmed by his son's absence, and -that, in case of danger, the young man would pass the night either at -the convent with his uncle, or in the Marquis della Serra's palace. The -princess would have preferred the latter course; but the necessity of -showing absolute confidence in the brigand, concerning whose -sensitiveness Fra Angelo had fully informed her, had triumphed over her -anxiety. With great foresight she had sent for Magnani, and we have seen -that she was justified in her reliance upon that excellent young man. - -Pier-Angelo, naturally optimistic, and reassured by the message he had -received, had gone to bed and was making up for the fatigue of the ball -like a man who knows how to use time to advantage. Mila had also gone to -her room; but she was not asleep. She had passed the afternoon with the -princess, and, upon being questioned by her concerning her friends, had -spoken of Antonio Magnani among others with a warmth which would have -betrayed the secret of her heart, even if Agatha had not been watchful -and penetrating. It was the favorable account the girl had given of her -young neighbor which had finally led the princess to call upon him for -aid in the embarrassment of her situation. She had said to herself that -Magnani might well become Mila's husband some day, and that nothing -could be more natural, therefore, than that he should have a share in -shaping Michelangelo's destiny. She had entrusted Mila with the message -to Magnani to come to her that night, and poor Magnani, on receiving the -message, had nearly fainted. Should we not rather say _poor Mila_? But -Mila had attributed the young man's confusion to his timidity alone. -Agatha was the last person whom she would have suspected of being her -rival, not that she was not in her eyes the loveliest of women, but -because, in a pure heart, there is no room for jealousy of the persons -whom one loves. On the contrary, the true-hearted child was happy in the -mark of esteem and confidence with which her dear Agatha had honored -Magnani. She was proud of it for his sake, and would have liked to be -able to carry him such messages every day. - -But the princess had thought that she ought not to conceal from Mila the -fact that Michel was necessarily involved in an adventure in which he -might incur some danger, and that Magnani would assist him to defend -himself. - -So Mila was anxious; she had said nothing to her father of her fears; -but she had been out more than ten times on the road to the villa, -listening to noises in the distance, watching all the passers-by, and -returning to the house each time more distressed and alarmed than -before. At last, when eleven o'clock struck, she dared not go out again, -but remained in her room, sometimes at the window, where she tired her -eyes staring to no purpose, sometimes beside her bed, where she fell on -her knees, depressed beyond measure, with her face buried in the pillow. -At times her pulses throbbed so violently that she mistook the throbbing -for a noise by her side. Then she would start and raise her head, and, -hearing nothing, try to pray. - -At last, about midnight, she thought that she heard distinctly a faint -sound of irregular footsteps in the yard. She looked and fancied that -she saw a shadow glide along the wall and disappear in the darkness. It -was Magnani; but she could not distinguish any well-defined form, and -was not sure that she had not been deceived by her own imagination. - -A few moments later two men stole noiselessly up the outside staircase -of the house. Mila had begun to pray again, and did not hear them until -they were under her window. She ran to the window, and seeing only the -tops of their heads, as she was directly above them, she had no doubt -that they were her brother and Magnani returning together. She hastily -rearranged her lovely hair, which had fallen over her shoulders, and -hurried to meet them. But as she passed into Michel's chamber, the outer -door of that chamber opened, and she found herself face to face with -Michel and a man who was fully a head shorter than Antonio Magnani. - -The Piccinino, whose features were hidden by the hood of his cloak, -hastily drew back and closed the door, saying: "You probably did not -expect your mistress to-night, Michel. Under any other circumstances it -would give me great pleasure to see her, for she seemed to be as -beautiful as the Madonna; but at this moment you will oblige me greatly -if you can send her away without letting her see me." - -"Have no fear," replied the young artist. "This woman is my sister, and -I will send her back to her own room. Stay here a moment, behind the -door." - -"Mila," he said, entering the room again and holding the door between -his companion and himself, "you seem to have taken a mania for sitting -up late like a night-bird. Go back to your own room, my dear love, I am -not alone. One of father's apprentices has asked me to take him in, and -I am going to share my bed with him. You must see that you shouldn't -stay here another moment, unless you want to be seen with your hair and -dress in disorder." - -"I will go," said Mila; "but tell me first, Michel, whether Magnani came -home with you?" - -"What does it matter to you?" rejoined Michel, testily. Mila heaved a -profound sigh, and returned to her room, where she threw herself on her -bed, quite disheartened, but determined to pretend to be asleep, and to -listen to everything that was said in the adjoining room. Perhaps -something had happened to Magnani; her brother's abrupt manner seemed to -her of evil augury. - -As soon as the Piccinino found himself alone with Michel, he asked him -to throw the bolts and to place a mattress from the bed against the thin -warped door of the adjoining room, through which the light could be seen -and their voices heard. When that was done, he asked him to make sure -that his father was asleep, or, if he were still awake, to wish him -good-night, so that the old man might not take it into his head to come -upstairs. As he spoke, the bandit unceremoniously threw himself on -Michel's bed, having first removed his rich doublet, and, covering his -head with his cloak, seemed determined not to lose an instant in going -to sleep. - -Michel went downstairs as he was requested; but he was no sooner on the -staircase than the young outlaw sprang to his feet as swiftly and -lightly as a bird, threw the mattress aside, drew the bolt, and -approached Mila's bed, beside which her little lamp was still burning. - -Mila heard him come in; but she supposed that Michel had come to make -sure that she was in bed. It did not occur to her that another could -have the audacity to enter her room thus, and, like a child who is -afraid of being scolded, she closed her eyes and lay perfectly still. - -The Piccinino had never seen a beautiful woman without being disturbed -and restless until he had examined her carefully, in order that he might -cease to think of her if her beauty was imperfect, or cast his net over -her if her style of beauty succeeded in inflaming his disdainful heart, -a strange compound of love and indolence, energy and torpor. Few men of -twenty-five have lived so chaste and self-restrained a life as the -bandit of Ætna; but few imaginations are so fertile as his was in -dreams of pleasure and in boundless appetites. It seemed that he was -always seeking to kindle his passions in order to test their intensity, -but that he abstained from gratifying them most of the time, fearing -lest his enjoyment might fall short of the idea he had conceived of it. -Certain it is that on the few occasions on which he had given way, he -had been profoundly depressed afterwards, and had reproached himself for -having expended so much exertion for a pleasure so soon exhausted. - -Perhaps he had other reasons for wishing to see Michel's sister's -features without Michel's knowledge. However that may be, he gazed at -her attentively for a moment, and, enraptured by her beauty, her -youthful grace, and her air of innocence, he asked himself whether he -would not do better to love that fascinating child rather than a woman -older than himself and doubtless more difficult to persuade. - -At that moment Mila, weary of feigning sleep, and more eager for news of -Magnani than afraid of her brother's reproaches, opened her eyes and saw -the stranger leaning over her. She saw his eyes gleaming under his hood, -and, terror-stricken, she was on the point of crying out, when he put -his hand over her mouth. - -"Child," he said in a low voice, "if you say a word, you are lost. Hush, -and I will go away. Come, come, my lovely angel," he added, in a -caressing tone, "don't be afraid of the friend of your family; before -long perhaps you will thank him for having disturbed your sleep." - -And, being unable to resist an insane impulse of coquetry, of a sort -that often caused him suddenly to forget his resolutions and his -cautious instincts, he threw back his hood and disclosed his beautiful -features, made still more beautiful by a sweet and winning smile. The -innocent Mila thought that she had had a vision. The diamonds that -sparkled on the young man's breast so heightened the general effect that -she did not know whether it was an angel or a prince in disguise who -stood before her. Bewildered, hesitating, she smiled back at him, half -fascinated, half terrified. Thereupon he lifted a heavy tress of her -black hair, which had fallen over her shoulders, and put it to his lips. -Fear gained the upper hand. Again Mila attempted to cry out. The -stranger flashed such a terrible glance at her that her voice failed -her. He put out the lamp, returned to Michel's room, bolted the door, -and replaced the mattress; then, throwing himself on the bed and -concealing his face, he seemed to be sleeping soundly when Michel -returned. All this had happened in less time than it has required to -tell it. - -But, for the first time in his life, perhaps, the Piccinino could not -compel sleep to deaden the activity of his thoughts. His imagination was -an unbroken steed, with whom he had fought so many battles that he -believed that he had placed a curb in his mouth forever. But the curb -was broken, and that powerful will, exhausted in trivial combats, no -longer sufficed to control fierce instincts too long held in check. He -was between two violent temptations, which appeared to him in the shape -of two women almost equally desirable, and whom the detestable Ninfo had -practically offered to share with him. Michel was the hostage whom he -had in his hands, and for whose ransom he could demand and perhaps -obtain everything. - -To be sure, he no longer believed in Agatha's passion for the young -artist; but he had seen her utter indifference as to the matter of -money, when it was a question of saving her friends from perils that -threatened them. Was she so disinterested as to think that she ought to -sacrifice something more than her fortune to ransom her protégé? -Probably not; so that the bandit must rely upon his individual powers of -seduction, and he saw in Michel only a means of gaining access to her so -that he might exert those powers. - -As for the young sister, it seemed to him an easier matter to overcome -so innocent a child, not only because of the more direct affection which -she undoubtedly entertained for her brother, but also because of her -inexperience and the purity of her imagination, which he had tested with -a glance. - -In respect to youthful charm and mere physical beauty, Mila far -surpassed Agatha; but Agatha was a princess, and the instinct of vanity -was strong in the bastard of Castro-Reale. She was supposed never to -have had a lover, she seemed prudent and strong. She had had twenty -years or more to practise self-defence and to repel the assaults of the -passions she had inspired; for she was at least thirty years old, and in -the fiery climate of Sicily, where plants mature in less time than they -require in France to put forth buds, a girl of ten is almost a woman. - -It was, therefore, a most glorious conquest to dream about, and for that -reason most intoxicating. But there was also the fear of failure, and -Carmelo thought that in that case he should die of shame and rage. He -had never known pain; it was a word almost devoid of meaning to him -until that moment. He was beginning to discover that one can suffer for -other causes than anger and ennui. As he lay awake, he watched Michel -without his knowledge. He saw him sit down at his table and take his -head in his hands, in an attitude of the most complete discouragement. - -Michel was profoundly depressed. All his dreams had vanished like smoke. -His situation seemed to him sufficiently elucidated by the conversation -he had had with the bandit as they returned from the villa. To test him, -the Piccinino had repeated Abbé Ninfo's calumnies, pretending to -believe them and generously to take Michel's part. The young painter's -noble and upright heart had rebelled against a suspicion which assailed -the princess's dignity; his denials and his manner of describing his -first interview with her in the ball-room had corresponded so closely -with the way in which the princess herself had represented the facts to -the bandit, that the latter, after a more searching and subtle -examination than that of an inquisitor, had ended by becoming convinced -that there was nothing criminal in the princess's relations with the -artist. - -Thereupon, seeing that there was a background of unhappiness to Michel's -modesty and loyalty, the Piccinino had concluded that, if the princess -did not love him, he wished that she might, and that he had fallen in -love with her at first sight. He remembered Michel's abrupt and ironical -reply to himself during the ball, and he took a cruel delight in making -him feel that he could not hope to be loved by such a woman. It even -occurred to him to admit that he questioned him only to test the -refinement of his nature, and he ended by repeating word for word what -Agatha had said when she pointed to Michel at the window of the boudoir: -"Look at that young man and tell me if there can possibly be any -wrongful relations between two persons of our respective ages and -conditions." Then he added, pressing Michel's hand as they entered the -city: "My child, I am pleased with you; for any other man, at your age, -would have seized the opportunity to pose as the hero of a mysterious -adventure with that adorable woman. Now I see that you are already a -serious-minded man, and I can say to you in confidence that she has made -an ineffaceable impression on me, and that I shall be like a stone in -the crater of the volcano until I have seen her again." - -The tone in which the Piccinino proclaimed, so to speak, this -confession, combined with the remembrance of his enraptured face and his -triumphant attitude when he returned to the boudoir with Agatha, alarmed -Michel beyond expression. He had not felt obliged in conscience to tell -him what illusions he had cherished, what he had thought that he could -read in certain glances, still less what had taken place--and he did not -believe that it was altogether a dream--in the grotto of the naiad. -Indeed, he would have considered it his bounden duty to deny it with all -his strength if his rival could have suspected it. But all his phantoms -of pride and happiness took flight before Agatha's cold words, repeated -in a dry, cutting tone by the Piccinino. But one point remained obscure -in his situation. That was the peculiarly warm affection of the princess -for his father and sister. But how could he attribute the honor of that -affection to himself? It was based upon an ancient political connection -or upon gratitude for some service rendered by Pier-Angelo. -Pier-Angelo's son was subjected to the dangers of that connection at the -same time that he shared its benefits. When that debt of the heart was -paid, it was impossible that Michel could arouse any further interest in -the generous patroness of his family. The mysteries that had fascinated -him fell back into the domain of reality, and instead of the pleasant -labor of combating charming illusions, he had the mortification of -feeling that he had combated them unsuccessfully and the pain of being -unable to revive them. - -"Why should I be jealous of the insolent joy that shone in the eyes of -that bandit?" he said to himself in dire distress. "Have I any business -even to consider the question whether his strange manner caused the -princess pleasurable or painful emotion? What have she and I in common? -What am I to her? Pier-Angelo's son! And he, this bold-faced adventurer, -is her mainstay and her savior. He will soon have a claim upon her -gratitude--perhaps upon her esteem and affection; for it rests only with -him to acquire them. He loves her, and if he is not mad he will find -some way or other to make her love him. But how can I earn any title to -her distinction? Of what consequence are the embryotic products of my -art in comparison with the energetic assistance which she demands? It -seems to me that she looks upon me as a child, since, instead of calling -me to her aid, and entrusting to me some mission of importance to her -interests and her personal safety, she does not even consider me capable -of defending my own life. She considers me so weak or so timid that in -this hour of our common danger she has sought the intervention of a -stranger--an ally more dangerous than useful, it may be. O my God! how -far she is from looking upon me as a man! Why did she not simply say to -me: 'Your father and I are threatened by an enemy. Drop your brushes, -take a dagger; defend your father or avenge me!' Fra Angelo reproached -me for my indifference; but, instead of correcting it, they actually -treat me like a child whom they pity, and whose life they save without -troubling themselves about his heart!" - -While he abandoned himself to these melancholy reflections, Michelangelo -felt as if his heart were breaking, and finding in front of him the -sprig of cyclamen, which was still living in its Venetian glass, he let -a scalding tear fall upon it. - - - - -XXX - -THE FALSE MONK - - -Mila had been so astonished and alarmed by the appearance of the -Piccinino that she could not possibly sleep. The fact that alarmed her -most was that she no longer heard conversation in the adjoining room, -and that she could not make sure that her brother was there. She was -unwilling to go to bed, and, after a few moments, as her reflections -served only to increase her terror, she rose and opened another door of -her chamber which opened on an outer gallery, or rather a dilapidated -corridor sheltered by an awning, and ending in a staircase which served -as a means of communication between her room and those of the other -occupants of the house. Mila had never opened that door at night, but -this time she went out on the gallery, having fully determined to seek -refuge with her father and to sit in his chamber until daylight. - -But she had barely taken three steps when a new cause of alarm brought -her to a standstill. A man was leaning against the wall of the gallery -as motionless as a robber on the watch. - -She was about to fly, when a voice said in a whisper: "Is that you, -Mila?" And as the man walked toward her she recognized Magnani. - -"Don't be afraid," he said. "I am watching here by order of a person who -is dear to you. Doubtless you know why, as you transmitted her message -to me?" - -"I know that my brother has been in danger this evening," replied the -girl; "but it seems that you are not the only one whom our dear princess -has stationed beside him to defend him. There is another young man in -his room, whom I do not know." - -"I know it, Mila; but that young man is the very one who is under -suspicion; and I must stand guard as near as possible to the place where -he is sleeping, until he has left the house." - -"But you are a long way from him!" exclaimed Mila, in dismay, "and my -brother might be murdered and you not hear it from here." - -"But what am I to do?" replied Magnani. "I could not get any nearer to -his room. He took pains to lock the door at the foot of the other -staircase. So I am here; and I have my eyes and ears open, I assure -you!" - -"I will watch, too," said the girl, resolutely, "and you can sit up with -me, Magnani. Come into my room. Even though people should speak ill of -us, if we were seen, even if my father and brother should scold me -severely, it makes no difference to me! I am only afraid of the man who -is locked into Michel's room with him, or alone--for they put a mattress -against my door, and I cannot find out whether Michel is really there. I -am afraid for Michel; I am afraid for myself." - -And she told how the bandit had entered her room when Michel was -apparently not there to oppose his entrance. - -Magnani, being unable to explain such an extraordinary occurrence, -accepted Mila's suggestion without hesitation. He entered her room, -leaving the door of the gallery ajar, in order that he might retire -unseen if need were, but all ready to burst in Michel's door at the -slightest alarming noise. - -When he had listened coolly and cautiously, with his eye and ear glued -to the partition, he said to Mila, beckoning her to the side of the room -farthest from the door, and speaking very low: - -"Set your mind at rest; they are not so well barricaded that I could not -see Michel sitting at his table, apparently deep in meditation. I could -not make out the other one, but I promise you that they cannot make a -movement which I shall not hear, and that their bolt will not hold a -second against my fist. I am armed; so don't be afraid any more, my dear -Mila." - -"No, no, I am not afraid," she said. "Since you have been here, I have -recovered the use of my mind. Before you came, I was like a madwoman; I -neither saw nor heard anything except through a veil. Have you had no -accident, run no risk yourself to-night, Magnani?" - -"None at all; but what are you looking for, Mila? You will make a noise -fumbling in that drawer." - -"No, no," she said. "I am getting a weapon too, for I feel as brave as a -lion with you." - -And she held up an ebony spindle, carved and mounted in silver, the -stout, sharp point of which might at need serve the purpose of a -stiletto. - -"When our dear princess gave me this to-day," she said, "she had no -suspicion that I might perhaps use it to defend my brother. But tell me, -Magnani, how did the princess receive you, and how did she explain these -mysteries which are happening all about us, and which I do not -understand at all? We can safely talk here in this doorway; no one will -hear us and it will help to make the time seem shorter and less dull." - -She sat down on the step outside the door that opened on the gallery. -Magnani sat beside her, ready to fly if any inquisitive individual -should approach, ready to show himself if Michel's guest made any sign -of hostility. They talked in very low tones, and their whispered words -expired in the open air, nor did either of the two become so engrossed -as to fail to pause and listen intently at the slightest sound. - -When Magnani had told Mila what little he knew, she lost herself in vain -conjectures as to the identity of that handsome young man, whose -expression was at once sweet and fear-inspiring, who styled himself, -when speaking with her, the friend of the family, and of whom the -princess had said to Magnani: "He is either our savior or our -enemy."--And, when Magnani urged her not to try to fathom a secret which -the princess and her family apparently deemed it necessary to conceal -from her, she replied: "Do not think that I am consumed by silly -childish curiosity! No, I have not that wretched failing. But I have -been afraid all day long, and yet I am not timid, either. Something -incomprehensible is going on about me, and I, too, believe that I am -threatened by enemies whom I do not know. I do not dare to mention the -subject to my father or to the princess; I am afraid that if they -undertake to look out for me, too, they will neglect a part of the -precautions demanded by their own safety. But I must think about -defending myself; to-morrow, when you go to your work and my father and -brother have gone out, I shall begin to tremble again for them, for you -and for my self." - -"I shall not go to work to-morrow, Mila," said Magnani. "The princess -ordered me not to leave your brother, whether he remains at home or goes -out. She did not mention you, which fact makes me almost certain that -you are not included in the secret persecution at which she has taken -fright. But, whatever happens, I shall not stir from here, without -having made sure that no one can come and frighten you." - -"Listen," she said, "I am going to tell you what happened to me to-day. -You know that we often have in our yard some of those begging brothers, -who annoy everybody, even the poor people, and whom you cannot get rid -of without giving them something. Well, one of them came just after -Michel and my father had left the house, and I never saw a monk so -persistent, and so bold, and so inquisitive. Just fancy that, when he -saw me working at my window, he took up his station just below it, and -there he stood, staring at me with a gaze that embarrassed me, although -I tried not to meet his eyes. I tossed him some bread in order to get -rid of him. He didn't condescend to pick it up. 'Young woman,' he said, -'that is not the way people give alms to a brother of my order. They -take the trouble to go downstairs to him and to commend themselves to -his prayers, instead of tossing him a crust as if he were a dog. You are -not a pious maid, and your parents have brought you up badly. I am sure -that you are not a native?' - -"I made the mistake of answering him. He had put me in a bad humor with -his sermon, and he was so ugly, so dirty, so insolent, that I could not -help exhibiting my disgust. It seemed to me that I recognized him as a -man I had seen in the morning at the Palmarosa palace. My brother was -disturbed by his face at that time, and questioned my uncle Fra Angelo -about him. He sent us away in haste, promising to find out who he was, -for he did not recognize him as a Capuchin, and my father said that he -resembled a certain Abbé Ninfo, who bears us a grudge, apparently. -However, either it was not the same man, or else he had changed his -disguise; for he wore the costume of a bare-footed Carmelite when he -came here; and, instead of a thick, curly black beard, he had a red -beard, as short and stiff as a wild boar's hair. He was even more -horrible in that dress, and if it was not the same man, why, I can -safely say that I have seen to-day the two most repulsive monks in -Valdemona." - -"And you were imprudent enough to talk with him?" said Magnani. - -"Talk is not the word; I requested him to carry his preaching somewhere -else, saying that I had no time to go down to him or to listen to his -reprimands; that, if he did not consider my alms worthy of his -acceptance, he could give it to the first poor person he met, and that, -if he was born proud, he had made a great mistake in becoming a -mendicant." - -"Doubtless he was irritated by your replies?" - -"No, for if I had seen that he was mortified or angry, charity or -prudence would have kept me from saying so much. But, instead of -continuing to scold me, he began to smile; a ghastly sort of smile, to -be sure, but not resentful. - -"'You are an amusing child,' he said, 'and I forgive your lack of -propriety because of your wit and your black eyes.' - -"I ask you if it was not very wicked for a monk to pay any attention to -the color of my eyes? I told him that he might stay a year under my -window before I would look to see what color his were. He called me a -flirt; a strange word, isn't it, in the mouth of a man who ought not -even to know that there is such a word? I closed my window, but when I -opened it a quarter of an hour later, being unable to endure the -stifling heat in my room when the sun is high, he was still looking at -me. I refused to talk to him any more. He told me that he would stay -there until I gave him something better than bread; that he knew that I -wasn't a poor girl; that I had a beautiful pin of chased gold in my -hair, and that he would gladly accept that, unless I preferred to give -him a lock of hair in its place. And he followed that up with such -absurd and extravagant compliments that I believed and still believe he -was laughing at me, and that it was his spiteful and unseemly way of -venting his anger. - -"As there were people in the house, particularly your father and one of -your brothers, whom I could see working in their rooms within reach of -my voice, I was not alarmed by that wretched monk's strange remarks and -impertinent glances; I answered only by making fun of him, and, to get -rid of him, I promised to give him something on condition that he would -go away at once. He declared that he had the right to accept or refuse -my offering, and that, if I would let him choose, he would be very -modest and would not ruin me.--'What do you want,' I said, 'a skein of -silk to mend your ragged frock?'--'No,' he replied, 'it's too badly -spun.'--'Do you want my scissors to cut your beard, which is growing all -awry?'--'No, for I might perhaps use it to cut off the rosy tip of that -impertinent little tongue.'--'A needle, then, to sew up your mouth, -which doesn't know what it says?'--'No, for I am afraid that your needle -has no sharper point than your epigrams.' - -"We jested thus for some time; although he annoyed me, he made me laugh; -for it seemed to me that his manner had become more fatherly than -threatening, that he was really a monk, one of those persistent jokers -such as we all know, who obtain by teasing what they cannot extort by -prayer; and lastly, I discovered that he was very bright, and I did not -put a stop to that childish badinage so soon as I should have done. I -took from the wall a little mirror about the size of my hand, of no -value, which he had noticed hanging by my window, as to which he asked -me how many hours a day I passed consulting it. I lowered it to him by a -silk thread, saying that he would certainly enjoy looking at himself in -it much more than I had enjoyed having his face before my eyes so long. - -"He seized it eagerly and kissed it, exclaiming in a tone which -frightened me: 'Has it retained a reflection of your beauty, O dangerous -maiden? Just a reflection! that is very little, but if I could fix it -there, I would never take my lips from it.' - -"'Fie!' I said, drawing back from the window, 'those words dishonor the -frock you wear, and such jesting does not befit a monk.' - -"I closed my window again and came to this door where we are now, and -opened it so that I could breathe while I worked. But I had not been -there five minutes when I saw the Capuchin before me. He had presumed to -enter the house, I don't know how; for I had locked the outer door, and -he must either have been prowling around in the adjoining house, or have -known all the ins and outs of this one.--'Go away,' I said to him; 'no -one has a right to enter a house in this way, and if you come near my -door, I will call my father and brother, who are in the next room.' - -"'I know perfectly well that they are not there,' he replied, with a -hateful laugh, 'and as for the neighbors, it would do no good to call -them, for I should be far away before they could get here. What makes -you afraid of me, young woman? I only wanted to have a nearer view of -your soft eyes and your red lips; Raphael's Madonna is a mere -maid-servant compared with you. Come, don't be afraid of me'--and, as he -spoke, he held the door open, which I tried to shut in his face.--'I -would give my life for a kiss from you; but if you refuse me that, give -me at least the rose that perfumes your breast; I shall die of joy -dreaming that ----' - -"I heard no more, for he had let the door go and tried to seize me in -his arms. In spite of my terror, I had more presence of mind than he -expected; for I stepped quickly to one side, slammed the door in his -face, and as he was a little bewildered by the blow, I took advantage of -it to run through Michel's room. I ran downstairs at the top of my -speed, and didn't stop until I was in the street, for there was no -neighbor near enough to depend upon. When I was among the people in the -street, I was no longer afraid of the monk, but I wouldn't have come -back to my room for anything on earth. I walked to Villa Palmarosa, and -didn't feel entirely at ease until the princess had taken me into her -room. I passed the rest of the day there, and did not come home until -father was ready. But I dared not say anything about what had happened, -for the reason I have given you--and if I must be entirely frank, -because I felt that I had been imprudent to joke with that wretched -begging monk, and that I deserved some blame for it. A rebuke from my -father would almost kill me; but from Princess Agatha--why, I would -rather be damned at once and forever!'" - -"Dear child, as you are so afraid of reproaches, I will keep your -secret," said Magnani, "and I will not venture to make the slightest -comment." - -"On the contrary, I beg you to comment as severely as you please, -Magnani. It will not humiliate me from you. I am not presumptuous enough -to think that you like me, and I know that my childish faults will not -cause you the slightest distress. It is because I know how dearly my -father and Princess Agatha love me that I dread so to grieve them. But -you can say whatever you please to me, for you will simply laugh at my -foolishness." - -"So you think me very indifferent, do you?" said Magnani, upon whom this -story of the monk had had a singularly disquieting and disturbing -effect. - -Then, surprised at the question that had escaped him, he rose and went -on tiptoe to listen at Michel's door. He thought that he could hear the -regular breathing of a sleeping person. The Piccinino had in fact -succeeded finally in allaying the tumult of his thoughts, and Michel, -overcome by weariness, was dozing in his chair, with his head resting on -his hands. - -Magnani returned to Mila; but he dared not sit beside her again. "And I -too," he thought, ashamed, and as it were, afraid of himself, "I am a -monk consumed by my imagination and excited by enforced continence. This -child is too lovely, too pure, too trustful, to live thus the -untrammelled neglected life of girls of our station; no one can look at -her without emotion, whether he be a monk doomed to celibacy or a man -hopelessly in love with another woman. I would like to have my hands on -that vile monk and break his neck; and yet I too quiver at the thought -that this unsuspecting maiden is in this room, alone with me, in the -silence of night, ready to seek shelter in my arms at the slightest -alarm!" - - - - -XXXI - -WITCHCRAFT - - -Magnani tried to divert his thoughts by talking of the princess with -Mila. The innocent girl lured him into it, and he accepted that subject -of conversation as a preservative. It will be seen that a strange -revolution had taken place in two days in the young man's mental -condition, since he had already reached the point of looking upon his -love for Agatha as a duty, or as what the doctors call a depurative. - -If he had been certain that the princess loved Michel, of which fact he -was persuaded at times, with a feeling of utter stupefaction, he would -have been almost entirely cured of his own mad passion. For he had given -it so exalted a place in his thoughts that, as he had lost hope, so he -had almost reached the point where he desired nothing. His passion had -become a sort of pious habit, so ideal that it no longer touched the -earth, and that by returning it, Agatha might have destroyed it -instantly. Assume that she loved any man on earth, even the man who -cherished so exalted an adoration for her, and she became in his eyes -simply a woman, whose influence he could combat. That was the result of -five years' suffering without the slightest presumption, and without a -moment's intermission. In a heart of such strength and purity, the -utmost order had prevailed amid the effervescence of a passion which -resembled a beginning of madness; and it was precisely that circumstance -which might be Magnani's salvation. Efforts to deaden his pain would -have served only to excite him more, and after indulging in vulgar -pleasures, he would have returned to his chimera with more suffering and -more weakness; whereas by abandoning himself without resistance, without -desire for repose, and without terror, to a martyrdom which might be -everlasting, he had allowed the flame to become concentrated in one -spot, where it burned dully, not fanned from without, and deprived of -any fresh sustenance. - -Thus Magnani had reached that critical moment when a man must be cured -or die, without any transition. He did not appreciate it, but it -certainly was a fact, for his senses were awaking from a long period of -numbness, and Agatha, far from contributing to the awakening, was the -only woman to whom he would have blushed to attribute in his thoughts -the perturbation that he felt. - -Little by little, he leaned toward the girl in order not to lose a -single one of her words, and he ended by sitting down beside her, and -asking her why it had occurred to her to talk of him with Princess -Agatha. - -"Why, it is very simple," replied Mila; "she led me to do it by asking -me which of the young mechanics of my acquaintance Michel had been most -intimate with since he had arrived in the island; and as I hesitated -between you and one or two of father's apprentices who assisted Michel, -and whom he seemed to like, the princess herself said: - -"'Perhaps you are not sure, Mila, but I would be willing to wager that -it is a certain Magnani, who works for me, and of whom I think very -highly. During the ball they sat in my garden together, and I was very -near them--just behind the myrtle bush. I had gone there to rest, and -was almost in hiding, in order to escape for an instant the torture of -such a long performance. I overheard their conversation, which -interested and touched me to the last degree. Your brother has a noble -mind, Mila, but your neighbor Magnani has a great heart. They talked of -art and work, of ambition and duty, of happiness and virtue. I admired -the artist's ideas, but I fell in love with the artisan's sentiments. -For your young brother's sake, I hope that Magnani will always be his -best friend, the confidant of all his thoughts, and his adviser in the -delicate emergencies of his life. You can advise him to that effect from -me, if he happens to mention me to you; and if you tell either of them -that I listened to the sincere outpouring of their thoughts, you will -not fail to tell them also that I was a discreet listener, for there -came a time when Magnani seemed on the point of disclosing to -Michelangelo some personal matter which I did not choose to overhear. I -retired hastily at the first word,'--Is all that accurate, Magnani? Do -you remember the subject of your conversation with Michel in the garden -of the Casino?" - -"Yes, yes," sighed Magnani, "it is all true; indeed, I noticed when the -princess retired, although it would never have occurred to me that it -was she who was listening to us." - -"At all events, you ought to be proud of it, Magnani, and very glad of -it, since what you said made her feel so much friendship and esteem for -you. I even thought that I could see that she preferred your way of -thinking to my brother's, and that she looked upon you as the wiser and -better of the two, although she says that she has felt the same motherly -interest in the welfare of both of you from that moment. Couldn't you -repeat to me all the beautiful words which the princess so enjoyed -hearing? I should be very glad to have the benefit of them, for I am a -poor little girl, with whom Michel himself hardly deigns to talk -seriously." - -"My dear Mila," said Magnani, taking her hand, "honor to the man whom -you consider worthy to form your heart and your mind! But, even if I -could remember all that Michel and I said to each other in that garden, -I should not presume to think that it would benefit you in any way. -Aren't you better than either of us? And as for wit, which of us can -have more than you?" - -"Oh! now you are laughing at me! Princess Agatha has more than all three -of us together, nor do I think that even my father has any more than she -has. Ah! if you knew her as well as I do, Magnani! Such a head and -heart! such charm! such kindness! I could pass my whole life listening -to her; and, if my father and she would allow it, I would like to be her -servant, although obedience is not my leading characteristic." - -Magnani was silent for a few moments. He could not succeed in -disentangling his thoughts in his excitement. Hitherto Agatha had seemed -to him so far above all praise that he was indignant and hurt when -anyone ventured to say that she was lovely, charitable and sweet. He -preferred to listen to those who said that she was ugly and mad, when -they did not know her and had never seen her. They at all events said -nothing about her in which there was the slightest sense, whereas the -others praised her too feebly, and annoyed Magnani beyond words by their -inability to comprehend her. But on Mila's lips Agatha lost nothing of -the idea he had formed of her. Only Mila seemed to him pure enough to -utter her name without profaning it, and because she shared his -adoration, she was almost equal to his idol in his eyes. - -"Dear Mila," he said at last, still holding her hand, which he had -forgotten to give back to her, "to love and to understand as you do -indicates a great mind. But what did you say about me to the princess? -Ought I not to ask you?" - -Mila blessed the darkness, which concealed her blushes, and she grew -bolder as a timid woman gradually becomes intoxicated by the assured -impunity of a masquerade. - -"I am really afraid that it will be indiscreet in me to repeat it to -you," she said, "and I should not dare to do it!" - -"So you said unkind things about me, did you, naughty Mila?" - -"No; for Princess Agatha had said so much good of you that it would have -been impossible for me to think any evil of you. I cannot look at -anything except through her eyes. But I let out something which Michel -told me in confidence." - -"Really? I don't know what you mean." - -Mila noticed that Magnani's hand trembled. She ventured to strike a -decisive blow. - -"Well," she said, in an artless, almost indifferent tone, "I told the -princess that you were really very kind, very pleasant and very learned; -but that one had either to know you very well, or else guess at you in -order to find it out!" - -"Because ----?" - -"Because you were in love, and that made you so melancholy that you -lived almost entirely alone, buried in meditation." - -Magnani trembled. - -"It was Michel who told you that!" he said, in a changed tone that made -Mila's heart bleed. "And doubtless he betrayed my confidence to the -end," he added; "he told you the name----" - -"Oh! Michel is incapable of betraying anybody's confidence," she -replied, struggling to maintain her courage at the level of the crisis -she had provoked; "and I, Magnani, am incapable of leading my brother on -to such a base thing. Besides, why should I be at all interested, I -should like to know?" - -"Of course, it must be a matter of entire indifference to you," replied -Magnani, completely crushed. - -"Indifference is not the word," she said; "I have much esteem and -friendship for you, Magnani, and I pray for your happiness. But I am -interested in my own happiness, too, so that I have no time to be idle -and pry into other people's secrets." - -"Your happiness! At your age, Mila, happiness is love; so you are in -love, too, are you?" - -"In love? why not? Do you consider me too young to think about such -things?" - -"Ah! my dear child, you are at the age when one should think about such -things, for at my age love is despair." - -"Why, is your love not returned? I was not mistaken in thinking that you -are unhappy?" - -"No, my love is not returned," he replied, dejectedly, "and never will -be; I have never even dreamed that it would." - -A more romantic and more experienced woman than Mila might have looked -upon that admission as a definitive obstacle to all hope; but her ideas -of life were more simple and more logical: "If he has no hope, he will -recover," she thought. - -"I pity you deeply," she said to Magnani, "for it is such great -happiness to feel that one is loved, and it must be so ghastly to love -all by oneself!" - -"You will never know such a misfortune," Magnani replied; "and the man -you love should be the most grateful and the proudest of men!" - -"I am satisfied with him," she said, gratified to feel that jealousy was -beginning to make itself felt in the young man's perturbed heart; "but -listen, Magnani! there is a noise in my brother's room." - -Magnani ran to the other door; but, while he was making vain efforts to -distinguish the nature of the noises Mila had heard, she heard other -noises in the yard. She looked through the blind, and, beckoning to -Magnani, pointed out to him Michel's mysterious guest, who was gliding -toward the street so lightly and adroitly, that unless one had a -delicate ear and keen eye and was on the alert, expecting to see him, it -would have been impossible to detect his movements. - -Even Michel had not been roused from the light doze into which he had -fallen. - -Mila was still very ill at ease, although Magnani urged her to take some -rest, promising that he would remain in the yard or in the gallery, and -that Michel should not leave the house without him. As soon as Magnani -had left her, she fell upon a chair and drew her table noisily along the -floor, so that she might hear Michel wake and move about in his turn. - -The young man soon entered her room, after noticing with amazement that -the Piccinino's light body had left little more impression on his bed -than if he had been a spectre. He found little Mila still up, and -reproved her for her wilful sleeplessness. But she explained her reasons -for anxiety; and, without mentioning Magnani, for the princess had -enjoined upon her not to let Michel know of his presence, she told him -of the Piccinino's strange and impudent visit to her room. She also told -him something of her experience with the monk, and made him promise that -he would not leave her during the morning, and that, if he were summoned -by the princess later in the day, he would not go out without letting -her know, because she was determined to seek shelter with some friend -and not remain alone in the house. - -Michel readily agreed. He was utterly unable to understand the bandit's -conduct on that occasion. But we can imagine that such an audacious -performance, taken in connection with the impertinence of the pretended -monk, left him in a decidedly uncomfortable frame of mind. - -When he returned to his chamber, after barricading the door of the -gallery with his own hands in order to protect his sister against any -fresh attack, he looked about for the cyclamen upon which he had gazed -so sorrowfully as he sat beside his table. But the cyclamen had -disappeared. The Piccinino had noticed that the princess, as on the -evening of the ball, had a bouquet of cyclamen in her hand or close at -hand, and that she seemed to have contracted the habit of playing with -that bouquet even more than with her fan, the inseparable companion of -all the women of the South. He had also noticed that Michel treasured -one of those flowers, and that he had drawn it toward his face several -times, then hastily pushed it away, during the first agitated moments of -his vigil. He had divined the mysterious charm attached to that plant, -and before leaving the room he had maliciously taken it from the glass -upon which Michel's inert hand still rested. He threw the little flower -into the sheath of his dagger, saying to himself: "If I stab anyone -to-day, perhaps this memento of the lady of my thoughts will remain in -the wound." - -Michel tried to follow the Piccinino's example, that is to say, to -recover his lucidity of thought by enjoying an hour or two of real -sleep. He had insisted that Mila should go to bed, and, in order to make -surer that she was adequately guarded, he left the door open between -their rooms. He slept heavily, as young men of his age do, but his sleep -was disturbed by confused and distressing dreams, an inevitable -consequence of his present position. When he woke, shortly after -daylight, he tried to collect his thoughts, and first of all he looked -to see if he had not dreamed of the abstraction of the precious -cyclamen. - -His surprise was unbounded when he saw that the glass, empty when he -fell asleep, was filled with freshly gathered cyclamens. - -"Mila," he said, seeing that his sister was already up and dressed, "you -have cheerful and poetic ideas, I see, despite our anxieties and -dangers. These flowers are almost as lovely as you; but they can never -replace the one I have lost." - -"You imagined," she said, "that I had taken it or tipped over the glass -after your extraordinary friend went away; you almost scolded me, and -you refused to remember that I had never so much as thought of putting -my foot inside your _mysterious_ chamber! Now, you accuse me of -replacing it with others, which is no less absurd; for where could I -have got them? Am I not barricaded on the gallery side? Haven't you my -key under your pillow? Unless, indeed, these pretty little flowers grow -on my pillow, which is possible--in a dream." - -"Mila, you persist in jesting on all subjects and at all seasons. You -may have had this bouquet last night. Weren't you at Villa Palmarosa in -the afternoon?" - -"For heaven's sake, don't these flowers grow anywhere but in Princess -Agatha's boudoir? I understand now why you are so fond of them. Where, -pray, did you pick the one that you looked for so long this morning, -instead of going straight to bed?" - -"I picked it in my hair, little one, and I believe that my brains left -my head with it." - -"Ah! very good; now I understand why you talk nonsense." - -Michel could find out nothing more. Mila was as calm and smiling when -she woke as she had been disturbed and fearful when she fell asleep. He -obtained nothing from her but quips of the sort in which she was -proficient, always possessed of some metaphorical meaning, and instinct -with a sort of childish charm. - -She asked him for the key of her room, and while he was dressing, lost -in thought, she attended to her household duties with her usual activity -and lightness of heart. She flew about the corridors and stairways, -singing like the morning lark. Michel, as melancholy as the winter sun -on the ice-fields at the pole, heard the floors creaking under her agile -feet, heard her merry laugh as she received her father's kiss on the -floor below, heard her ascend the stairs to her room, like a well-aimed -arrow, then go down again to the fountain to fill the graceful earthen -jugs, which are made at Siacca, after Moorish models, and are commonly -used by the people of those regions; heard her salute the neighbors with -kindly pleasantries, and play with the half naked children who were -already beginning to roll about on the flagstones in the yard. - -Pier-Angelo was also dressing, more rapidly and in more cheerful mood -than Michel. Like Mila, he sang, but in a deeper and more martial voice, -as he shook his brown, red-lined jacket. He was interrupted at times by -a lingering remnant of drowsiness, and yawned over the words of his -ballads, then finished the refrain triumphantly. That was his way of -waking, and he never sang better, in his own ears, than when his voice -failed him. - -"Happy heedlessness of truly popular natures!" said Michel to himself, -as he leaned on his window-sill, half-dressed. "One would say that -nothing unusual was taking place in my family, that we were not -surrounded by enemies and snares; that my sister slept as usual last -night, that she knows nothing of love without hope, of the danger of -being beautiful and poor in view of the schemes of vicious minds, and of -the other danger that she may be deprived at any moment of her natural -protectors. My father, who must know everything, acts as if he suspected -nothing. In this wretched climate everything is forgotten or takes on an -entirely different aspect in the twinkling of an eye. The volcano, -tyranny, persecution--nothing interrupts the songs and laughter. At -noon, overwhelmed by the heat, they all sleep and seem like corpses. The -cool evening air revives them like vigorous plants. Terror and rashness, -grief and joy, succeed one another with them like the waves on the -shore. Let one of the chords of the heart be relaxed, and twenty others -wake to new life, just as the taking of a flower from a glass of water -causes a whole bouquet to appear there! I alone, amid these -incomprehensible transformations, am always on the alert, but always -serious; my thoughts are always lucid, but always gloomy. Ah! would that -I had remained the child of my caste and the man of my native land!" - - - - -XXXII - -THE ESCALADE - - -The group of houses of which Michel's formed a part was shabby and ugly -in reality, but exceedingly picturesque. Built upon blocks of lava, and -in part constructed of the same lava, those rough structures bore traces -of the last earthquakes which had overturned them. The lower floors, -which were bolted to the solid rock, retained an unmistakable flavor of -antiquity; and the upper portions, erected in haste after the disaster, -or already shaken by later shocks, even now had a decrepit look: huge -cracks, roofs with a threatening pitch, and dangerous staircases, the -rails of which were all awry. Wild vines inextricably tangled about the -ragged protuberances of cornices and awnings, prickly aloes, crushing by -their weight the old terra-cotta urns, and encroaching with their rough -branches upon the little terraces which hovered in the most insane way -upon the highest points of those tumble-down buildings; white linen, or -garments of gaudy hue hanging from all the windows, or flying about like -banners on lines stretched from house to house: all this formed a -strange, bold picture. One could see children playing and women working -almost among the clouds, on narrow platforms surrounded by pigeons and -swallows, and barely protected, away up there in space, by a few black, -worm-eaten rails, which it seemed that the first gust of wind would blow -away. The slightest change of level in that volcanic soil, the slightest -convulsion in that gorgeous but ill-omened landscape, and the torpid or -reckless occupants of those houses would be engulfed in a raging hell, -or swept away as the leaves are by the tempest. - -But danger acts upon men's minds in proportion to its distance. In the -midst of actual security, the idea of a catastrophe presents itself -under terror-inspiring colors. When one is born, breathes and lives in -the midst of actual danger, under a never-ceasing threat, the -imagination becomes deadened, fear loses its keen edge, and there ensues -a strange repose of mind which resembles torpor rather than courage. - -Although the picture we have described possessed a genuine poetic charm, -in its very shabbiness and its disorder, Michel had not yet detected it. -He had passed his childhood at Rome, in houses more solidly constructed -at all events and of a neater aspect, if not more sumptuous, and his -thoughts always aspired to the splendor of palaces. His father's abode, -that hovel in which Pier-Angelo had lived ever since his childhood, and -to which he had returned with so much love in his heart, seemed to young -Michel nothing more than a pestiferous den which he would have been glad -to see return to the lava from which it had come forth. In vain did -Mila, in marked contrast to her neighbors, keep their little quarters -almost fastidiously neat and clean. In vain was their staircase -embellished with the loveliest flowers. In vain did the bright morning -sun draw broad lines of gold athwart the shadows of the black lava and -upon the heavy arches of the recessed portions of the building. Michel -thought of nothing but the grotto of the naiad, the marble fountains of -the Palmarosa palace, and the porch where Agatha had appeared to him -like a goddess in the doorway of her temple. - -At last, after bestowing one regretful thought upon his recent chimera, -he was ashamed of his dejection. "I came to this country, when my father -hadn't sent for me," he said to himself, "and my uncle the monk -convinced me that I must submit to the drawbacks of my position and -accept its duties. I subjected myself to a most severe test when I -turned my back upon Rome and the hope of glory to become an obscure -workingman in Sicily. The test would have been too mild and too short -if, at the outset, being loved or admired at first sight by a great and -noble lady, I had had only to stoop and pick up laurel crowns and -piastres. Instead of that, I must be a good son and a good brother, and, -moreover, a stout-hearted man, to defend at need the honor of my family. -I am well assured that the signora's esteem and my own, perhaps, can be -had only at that price. Very well, I will accept my destiny cheerfully, -and learn to endure without regret what my nearest and dearest endure so -courageously. I will be a man in advance of my years, and lay aside the -overpetted personality of my youth. If I have anything to blush for, it -is for having been a spoiled child so long, and for having failed to see -that it would soon be my duty to assist and protect those who devoted -themselves to me so unselfishly." - -This determination restored peace to his heart. His father's songs and -little Mila's seemed to him the sweetest of melodies. - -"Yes, yes," he said to himself, "sing on, happy birds of the South, pure -as the sky that looked down upon your birth! This merriment is the -indication of a perfectly clear conscience, and laughter well befits -you, who have never had an idea of evil! Ah! my old father's dear old -ballads, which have allayed the anxieties of his life and lessened the -fatigue of his labor--I should listen to them with respect instead of -smiling at their simplicity! And my young sister's merry laughter I -should welcome with affectionate delight as a proof of her courage and -her innocence! Away with my selfish dreams and my unfeeling curiosity! I -will go through the storm with you, and will enjoy as you do a burst of -sunlight between two clouds. My careworn brow is an insult to your -candor--black ingratitude for your kindness. I propose to be your staff -in distress, your comrade in toil, and your boon companion in joy! - -"Sweet and melancholy flowers," he added, stooping fondly over the -bouquet of cyclamen, "whatever hand plucked you, whatever the sentiment -of which you are a pledge, my breath, aflame with evil desires, shall -sully you no more. If I sometimes lay bare my heart, as you do, I pray -that it may be as pure as your calices; and if it bleeds, as you seem to -bleed, I pray that virtue may exhale from its wounds, even as fragrance -exhales from your bosom." - -Immediately after forming these excellent resolutions, made more -seductive by this vein of poetic imagery, young Michel completed his -toilet without further dallying, and made haste to join his father, who -was already at work mixing colors to _patch_ the paint at Villa -Palmarosa in many places where it had been marred by the chandeliers and -decorations of the ball. - -"Here," said the goodman, handing him a large purse of Tunisian silk, -filled with gold pieces; "here is the pay for your beautiful ceiling." - -"It is too much by half," said Michel, examining the beautifully -embroidered and shaded purse with much more interest than its contents. -"Our debt to the princess is not yet discharged, and I propose that it -shall be this very day." - -"It is, my child." - -"Then it must have been paid out of your wages, not out of mine. For if -I know how to estimate the contents of a purse, there is more here than -I propose to accept. Father, I do not propose that you shall work for -me. No, I swear by your gray hairs that you shall never work for your -son again, for it is his turn to work for you. Nor do I intend to accept -alms from Princess Agatha; I have had enough of such patronage and -generosity." - -"You know me well enough," replied Pier-Angelo, with a smile, "to -believe that, far from interfering with your pride and your dutiful -sentiments, I shall always encourage them. Take my advice, therefore, -and accept this money. It is honestly yours; it costs me nothing, and -the person who gives it to you is at liberty to place what estimate she -pleases on the merits of your work. That is the difference that there -will always be between you and your father, Michel. An artist has no -fixed price. A single day of inspiration may make him rich. Whereas, a -deal of hard work is not enough to raise us mechanics out of the slough -of poverty. But God, in His mercy, has given us compensations. The -artist conceives and brings forth his works with much pain. The mechanic -performs his task with laughter and a song. I am so accustomed to that, -that I wouldn't exchange my trade for yours." - -"Let me at least derive from mine such pleasure as it is capable of -affording me," said Michel. "Take this purse, father, and let nothing -ever be taken from it for my use. It is my sister's marriage portion; it -is the interest on the money she lent me when I was at Rome; and if I -never earn enough to make her richer, let her at least have the benefit -of my day of success. O father!" he cried, seeing that Pier-Angelo was -unwilling to accept his sacrifice, "do not refuse me; you will break my -heart! Your blind affection has almost corrupted my nature. Help me to -cease to be the selfish creature that you would have made me. Encourage -my good impulses, instead of robbing me of their fruit. It comes only -too late." - -"True, my boy, I ought to do it," said Pier-Angelo, deeply touched; "but -consider that this is no mere commonplace sacrifice of money that you -propose to make. If it were simply a matter of depriving yourself of -some little pleasure, it would be of little consequence, and I should -not hesitate. But your artistic future, the cultivation of your -intellect, the very essence of your life, are contained in this little -silk net! It means a year of study in Rome! And who knows when you will -be able to earn as much more? Perhaps the princess won't give any more -balls. The other nobles are neither so rich nor so generous as she. Such -opportunities are not often met with, and are very likely not to happen -twice in a lifetime. I am growing old; I may fall from my ladder -to-morrow and cripple myself; then how would you resume the life of an -artist? Aren't you at all alarmed at the idea that, for the pleasure of -giving your sister a marriage portion, you run the risk of becoming a -mechanic again, and remaining a mechanic all your life?" - -"So be it!" exclaimed Michel; "that no longer frightens me, father. I -have reflected. It seems to me that there is as much honor and pleasure -in being a mechanic as in being rich and proud. I love Sicily! Is it not -my native land? I do not propose to leave my sister again. She needs a -protector until she is married, and I propose that she shall be able to -make her choice deliberately. You are old, you say! you may be crippled -to-morrow! Well then! who would take care of you, pray,--who would -support you, who would comfort you,--if I were away? Would it be -possible for my sister to do it when she has a family of her own? A -son-in-law? but why should I leave it for another to fulfill my duties? -Why should he steal my honor and my glory? for this is wherein I choose -to establish them henceforth, and my chimeras have given place to -reality. Tell me, father, am not I, too, in a cheerful mood this -morning? Would you like me to sing a second to the old ballad you were -singing just now? Do I seem to you to have the despairing look of a man -who is sacrificing himself? Do you not love me, I pray to know, that you -refuse to be my employer?" - -"Very well!" replied Pier-Angelo, gazing at him with glistening eyes, -and with a trembling of the hands that indicated extraordinary emotion. -"You are a man of heart! and I shall never regret what I have done for -you!" - -As he spoke, Pier-Angelo removed his cap, uncovering his bald head, and -stood erect in the attitude, at once proud and respectful, of an old -soldier before his young officer. It was the first time in his life that -he had adopted the more formal mode of address with Michel,[7] and that -change, which might have seemed to denote coldness and dissatisfaction -in other fathers, assumed in his mouth a peculiarly affectionate and -majestic meaning. It seemed to the young painter that he had been hailed -as a man by his father at last, and that that form of address--that -uncovered head and those few calm and serious words--rewarded and -honored him more abundantly than the most eloquent academic eulogy. - -While they worked together, Mila busied herself preparing their -breakfast. She went back and forth from one room to another, but passed -more frequently than was absolutely necessary along the gallery of which -we have spoken. She had a secret reason for this. Magnani's chamber, -which, to tell the truth, was only a wretched garret with a window in -which there was no glass--the warm climate making that luxury -unnecessary for people in good health--was at the corner of the house -nearest to the gallery, and by leaning over the rail one could talk with -a person who happened to be sitting at the window of that modest -apartment. Magnani was not in his room; he only passed the night there, -and at daylight went to his work elsewhere, or worked out-of-doors on -the gallery opposite the one on which Mila often sat at her work. From -there she could watch him without looking at him, for hours at a time, -and not lose a single one of his movements, although she did not seem to -lift her eyes from her work. - -But on this morning she walked back and forth to no purpose. He was not -on the gallery, although he had promised her, as well as the princess, -not to go away from home. Had he allowed himself to be overcome by -sleep, after two sleepless nights? That was hardly consistent with what -she knew of his stoical determination and of his inexhaustible strength. -Doubtless he was breakfasting with his parents. But Mila, who had -stopped more than once to listen to the tumultuous voices of the Magnani -family, could not distinguish the grave, manly tones which she knew so -well. - -She looked at the window of his garret. The room was dark and empty as -usual. Magnani had no luxurious habits as Michel had, and he had always -crushed within himself any craving for refinement in his surroundings. -Whereas Pier-Angelo and his daughter, in anticipation of the cardinal's -death and the young painter's arrival, had made ready for that beloved -child a neat, clean, airy attic chamber, furnished with the best that -they could spare from their own furniture, Magnani slept on a rug thrown -on the floor by his window, to make the most of the little air which -could find its way in through that loophole, recessed as it was between -two walls. The only embellishment which he had introduced consisted of a -box which he had placed on the outer edge of that yawning aperture, and -in which he had sown a few pretty convolvuli which formed a frame of -fresh flowers for the window. - -He watered them every day; but during the last forty-eight hours he had -been so engrossed that he had forgotten them; the pretty white bells had -closed and drooped languidly upon their half-withered leaves. - -Mila, carrying one of her earthen jugs perched lightly on her head, an -enormous braid of hair thrice twisted acting as a cushion, noticed that -her neighbor's convolvuli were dying of thirst; that would have afforded -a pretext for speaking to him if he had been anywhere about; but there -was nobody in that retired and sheltered corner. Mila tried, by -stretching her arm over the rail, to reach the poor plants and give them -a few drops of water. But her arm was too short, and the jug did not -reach the box. Children cannot bear the impossible, and when they have -undertaken a thing they go on with it at the peril of their lives. How -many times have we climbed upon a window to reach a swallow's nest, and -counted with the tips of our fingers the little warm eggs on their bed -of down! - -Little Mila spied a stout branch of grapevine which hung along the wall -like a bell-rope and was twisted about the rail of the gallery. To climb -over the rail and cling to the vine did not seem to her very difficult. -In this way she reached the window. But, as she raised her lovely arm to -water the convolvuli, a strong hand seized her slender wrist, and a -brown face, wearing a smile that displayed two rows of large white -teeth, stooped toward hers. - -Magnani, not wishing to sleep, nor, on the other hand, to seem to be -watching what was taking place in the house, as Agatha had ordered, had -lain down on his rug to rest his weary limbs. But his mind and his eyes -were wide open, and, at every risk, he had seized that stealthy arm -whose shadow passed across his face. - -"Let me go, Magnani," said the girl, more deeply moved by the meeting -than by the risk she might be incurring; "you will throw me down! this -vine is giving way under me." - -"Throw you down, my dear child!" replied the young man, passing a -powerful arm about her waist. "Unless this arm is cut off, and then the -other, you shall never fall!" - -"Never? that is saying a good deal, for I love to climb, and you won't -always be with me." - -"Happy the man who will be with you always and everywhere, sweet little -Mila! But what are you doing here with the birds?" - -"I saw from my window that this lovely plant was thirsty. See how its -pretty head droops and how its leaves are falling. I thought that you -were not here, and I was going to give the poor roots something to -drink. Here is the jug. You can bring it back to me by and by. I am -going back to my work." - -"Already, Mila?" - -"Especially as I am very uncomfortable perched up here. I have had -enough of it. Let me go, so that I can return the way I came." - -"No, no, it is too dangerous. The vine is bending, and my arms aren't -long enough to hold you till you reach the gallery. Let me lift you in -here, Mila, and then you can go out through my chamber." - -"I can't do that, Magnani; the neighbors would say unkind things of me, -if they saw me go into your room either by the window or by the door." - -"Very well, stay there, hold on tight; I will come out through the -window and help you to go back." - -But it was too late: the vine suddenly gave way; Mila shrieked, and if -Magnani had not grasped her with both hands and seated her on the edge -of the window, crushing his dear convolvuli a little in the act, she -would have fallen. - -"Now," he said, "my imprudent young lady, you cannot go out any other -way than through my room. Come in quickly, for I hear steps under the -gallery, and no one has seen you yet." - -He drew her hastily into his poor room, and she walked to the door as -swiftly as she had come in through the window; but the door was ajar, -and as she looked out she saw that the door of the cobbler's room on the -same landing was wide open, and that the cobbler himself, the most -evil-tongued of all the neighbors, was sitting there, singing over his -work, so that it was impossible to go out without exposing herself to -his unpleasant witticisms. - - -[Footnote 7: That is to say, had called him _you_ instead of _thou_.] - - - - -XXXIII - -THE RING - - -"There!" said the girl, closing the door with a touch of vexation, "the -evil spirit has a grudge against me! Just because I took it into my head -to water a poor flower, I am in danger of being torn to pieces by evil -tongues and scolded by my father--and above all by Michel, who is such a -tease with me!" - -"Dear child," said Magnani, "people would not dare to speak of you as -they speak of others; you are so different from all the other girls in -our suburb! Everybody loves you and respects you as no one of them will -ever be loved and respected. Besides, as it is on my account--or rather -on account of my poor flowers--that you have run this risk, you need not -have the slightest fear. Woe to the man who dares to speak ill of you!" - -"All the same, I shall never dare to pass that horrible cobbler." - -"You are quite right. It is his breakfast time. His wife has called him -twice already. He will go directly. Wait here a few seconds, perhaps a -minute--especially as I should like to say a word to you, Mila." - -"What have you to say to me, pray?" she replied, taking a chair which he -offered her, and which was the only one in the room. She was trembling -with violent inward excitement, but she affected a careless air which -her position seemed to impose upon her. It was not that she was afraid -of Magnani; she knew him too well to fear that he would take advantage -of the tête-à-tête; but she feared, more than ever before, that he -would guess the secret of her heart. - -"I don't know just what I have to say to you," rejoined Magnani. "It -seemed to me that it would be for you to say something to me." - -"I!" cried proud little Mila, rising. "I have nothing to say to you, I -give you my word, Signor Magnani!" - -And she was about to leave the room, preferring the gossip of the -neighborhood to the danger of being found out by the man she loved, when -Magnani, surprised by her movement, and observing her sudden flush, -began to suspect the truth. - -"Dear Mila," he said, placing himself in front of the door, "one -moment's patience, I beg you. Do not let people see you, and do not be -angry with me if I detain you a moment. The consequences of a pure -accident may be very serious to a man who is determined to kill or be -killed to defend the honor of a woman." - -"In that case, do not speak so loud," said Mila, struck by Magnani's -expression; "for that miserable cobbler may overhear us. I know," she -continued, allowing him to lead her back to her chair, "that you are -brave and generous, and that you would do for me what you would do for -your own sister. But I am not anxious that that should happen, for you -are not my brother, and you cannot justify me by fighting my battles. -People would say all the more evil of me, or else we should be compelled -to marry, which would not suit either of us." - -Magnani gazed into Mila's black eyes, and, seeing how proud they were, -he speedily renounced the presumptuous idea that had caused him both -fear and pleasure as it flashed through his mind. - -"I understand perfectly well that you do not love me, my dear Mila," he -said with a sad smile. "I am not lovable, and it would be the most -melancholy thing on earth, after being compromised by me, to pass your -life with such an unsociable being." - -"That is not what I meant to say," replied the crafty maiden. "I have -much esteem and friendship for you; I have no reason for concealing that -fact from you; but I have an inclination for another. That is why I am -so distressed and tremble so at being shut up in this room with you." - -"If that is so, Mila," said Magnani, bolting his door and closing the -window-shutter so hastily that he nearly consummated the ruin of his -convolvulus, "let us take all necessary precautions to prevent anyone -knowing that you are here. I swear to you that you shall go out without -anybody suspecting it, though I have to put all the neighbors out of the -way by force--though I have to stand guard until night." - -Magnani tried to be playful, and imagined that he was very much relieved -to find that he was not called upon to defend himself against Mila's -love; but it saddened him to hear the girl declare her affection for -another, and his candid face expressed, despite his efforts, a painful -disappointment. Had she not previously confessed it to him during their -long vigil, and had she not by that confidence invested him in a certain -sense with the duties of a brother? He was determined to execute -worthily that sacred mission; but how did it happen that a moment before -it had startled him to see her in anger, and why had his heart, -nourished so long upon an insane and bitter passion, felt suddenly -revivified and rejuvenated by the unexpected presence of this child who -had entered through his window like a sunbeam? - -Mila was stealthily watching him. She saw that she had struck home. "O -untamed heart," she said to herself, with silent but intense joy, "I -have you now; you shall not escape me." - -"My dear neighbor," said the artful minx, "pray do not be offended at -what I have just told you, and do not look upon it as an affront to your -merit. I know that any other than myself would be flattered to be -compromised by you, with the hope of becoming your wife; but I am -neither a liar nor a flirt. I am in love, and, as I have confidence in -you, I tell you of it. I know that it cannot cause you any pain, since -you have given up all thought of marriage, and since you detest all -women, except a single one who is not myself." - -Magnani made no reply. The cobbler was still singing. "It is my fate," -thought Magnani, "not to be loved by any woman and never to be cured of -my love." - -Mila, inspired by that species of divination which love gives to women, -even to those who have had no experience and have read but little, said -to herself--and justly--that Magnani, being stimulated in his passion by -suffering and absence of hope, would be alarmed and repelled at the idea -of love being offered to him unasked--a too-ready, alluring love; -consequently she represented herself as invulnerable and protected -against him by another attachment. In that way she lured him by making -him suffer, and that was, in truth, the only way in which he could be -lured. By changing the form of his torture, she paved the way for his -cure. - -"Mila," he said to her at last, pointing to a heavy ring of chased gold -which he wore on his finger, and which she had already noticed, "can you -tell me the source of this beautiful present?" - -"That?" she said, looking at the ring with feigned astonishment. "It is -impossible for me to tell you anything about it. But I no longer hear -your neighbor; farewell. By the way, Magnani, you look very tired. You -were resting when I came in; you would do well to rest a little more. -None of us are in any danger at this moment. I am not, because my father -and brother are about the house. They are not, because it is broad -daylight and the house is full of people. Sleep, my dear neighbor. If it -is only for an hour, that will give you strength to go on with your -rôle of guardian of the family." - -"No, no, Mila. I shall not sleep, and, indeed, I have no desire to; for, -say what you will, there are some strange, inexplicable things still -going on in this house. I confess that I lost myself a moment, just as -day was breaking. You were asleep; you were locked into your room; the -man in the cloak had gone. I had sat down under your gallery, saying to -myself that the first step that shook it would wake me instantly if I -should happen to fall asleep. And thereupon I did actually fall asleep. -For five minutes perhaps, not more, for it was not perceptibly lighter -when I woke again. Well! when I opened my eyes, I fancied that I saw a -corner of a dress or a black veil, which flitted by me and disappeared -like a flash. I made a vague, fruitless effort to seize that vision with -the hand that lay half open on the bench at my side. But in my hand, or -beside it--I don't know which--was an object which I dropped at my feet, -and instantly picked up again: it was this ring. Have you any idea to -whom it belongs?" - -"Such a fine ring cannot belong to anyone in the house," Mila replied; -"but I think I know it." - -"And I know it, too," said Magnani; "it belongs to Princess Agatha. For -five years I have seen it on her finger, and it was there the day she -came into my mother's room." - -"It is a ring that came to her from her own mother, she told me so! But -how does it happen to be on your hand to-day?" - -"I relied upon you to explain that prodigy to me, Mila; that is what I -wanted to ask you." - -"Upon me? Why upon me?" - -"You are the only one in this house in whom the princess is sufficiently -interested to have given her so handsome a present." - -"And if she had given it to me," she said, in a superb and mocking tone, -"do you suppose that I would have deprived myself of it in your favor, -Signor Magnani?" - -"No, surely not; you should not and would not have done it; but you -might have passed along the gallery and dropped it, for I was just under -the rail." - -"No, I did not! Besides, didn't you see a black dress beside you? Am I -dressed in black?" - -"I thought, however, that you might have gone down into the yard during -that moment that I was asleep, and that, to punish me or to make sport -of me, you played that joke on me. If that is the case, Mila, you must -agree that the punishment was too light, and you ought to have poured -water on my face instead of keeping it for my flowers. But take your -ring, I don't want to keep it any longer. It wouldn't be a suitable -thing for me to wear, and I should be afraid of losing it." - -"I swear to you that that ring was never given to me, that I did not go -into the yard while you were asleep; and I will not take what belongs to -you." - -"As it is impossible that Princess Agatha should have come here this -morning----" - -"Oh! to be sure, that is impossible!" said Mila, with mischievous -gravity. - -"And yet she did come here!" said Magnani, thinking that he could read -the truth in her gleaming eyes. "Yes, yes, Mila, she came here this -morning! You are impregnated with the perfume that her clothes exhale; -either you touched her cape, or she kissed you, not more than an hour -ago." - -"Great heaven!" thought the girl, "how well he knows everything that has -any connection with Princess Agatha! how shrewdly he guesses, when she -is in question! Suppose it were she with whom he is in love? Well! God -grant that it may be, for she will help me to cure him; she loves me so -dearly!" - -"You don't answer me, Mila," continued Magnani. "Since you are found -out, confess." - -"I do not even know what you said," she replied; "I was thinking about -something else--about going away!" - -"I will help you; but first I will beg you to put this ring on your -finger so that you may return it to Princess Agatha; for she surely lost -it when she passed me." - -"And supposing that she did come here, which is absurd, my dear -neighbor, why should she not have made you this present?" - -"Because she must know me well enough to be sure that I would not accept -it." - -"You are proud!" - -"Very proud, you have said it, my dear Mila! It is not in the power of -any person to put a material price on the devotion which my heart gives -joyfully. I can conceive that a great nobleman may present a gold chain -or a diamond to the artist who has delighted him for an hour by his -genius, but I could never understand why he should want to pay the man -of the people from whom he feels justified in asking a proof of -affection. Moreover, that would not be the case here. In notifying me -that your brother was in some danger, Princess Agatha simply pointed out -to me a duty, which I should have performed as zealously if anyone else -had given me the same warning. It seems to me that I am sufficiently her -friend and your father's, and I might also venture to say yours, to be -ready to stand guard, to fight, and to go to prison for one of you, -without being hired to do so by anyone. Don't you believe it, Mila?" - -"I do believe it, my friend," she replied; "but I believe also that you -misinterpret this gift altogether, if it is a gift. Princess Agatha -knows better than you or I that friendship is not to be bought with -money and jewels. But she probably feels, as you and I do, that when -friendly hearts unite to aid one another, esteem and sympathy increase -in proportion to the zeal which each one displays. In many cases a ring -is a pledge of friendship, not payment for service rendered; for you -have rendered the princess a service by protecting us, that is certain; -although I do not know how it comes about, her cause is bound up with -ours, and our enemies are hers. If you reflect on what I have told you, -you will realize that this ring has a sentimental value in the -princess's eyes, not a material value, as you say; for it is a trinket -not especially valuable in itself." - -"You told me that it came to her from her mother, did you not?" said -Magnani, deeply moved. - -"And you yourself noticed that she always wore it! If I were in your -place, and were sure that that ring had been given to me, I would never -part with it. I would not wear it on my finger, where it would attract -too much attention from envious creatures, but on my heart, where it -would be like a blessed relic." - -"In that case, my dear Mila," said Magnani, touched by the extreme -delicacy with which the girl tried to allay the bitterness of his heart, -and to make him accept her rival's gift with pleasure, "in that case, -take this ring back to her, and if she really meant to give it to me, if -she insists upon my keeping it, I will keep it." - -"And you will wear it on your heart as I told you?" asked Mila, looking -him through and through with courageous but anxious eyes. "Remember," -she added, vehemently, "that it is the pledge of a patron saint; that -the woman whom you love, whoever she may be, cannot deserve that you -should sacrifice it to her, and that it would be far better to throw it -into the sea than to profane it by an act of ingratitude!" - -Magnani was dazzled by the flame that flashed from Mila's great black -eyes. Did she guess the truth? Perhaps! but if she simply relied upon -Magnani's gratitude for the woman who had saved his mother, she was no -less noble and generous in seeking to procure for him the pleasure of -believing in that good fairy's friendship. He began to feel infected by -the chaste and deep-rooted ardor which she carried concealed in her -heart, and that proud and passionate heart revealed itself against its -will, amid its efforts to subdue itself or to keep quiet. - -An impulsive outburst of gratitude and tenderness brought Magnani to his -knees at the girl's feet. - -"Mila," he said, "I know that Princess Agatha is a saint, and I do not -know whether my heart is worthy to receive a relic from her. But I do -know that there is but a single other heart in the world to which I -would be willing to entrust it; so never fear; no woman, except you, -will ever seem to me pure enough to wear this ring. Put it on your -finger now, in order to give it back to the princess or to keep it for -me." - -Mila, when she had returned to her room, had a moment's dizziness, as if -she were going to faint. Her heart throbbed wildly with mingled feelings -of consternation and delirious joy. At last she heard her father, who -was impatient for his breakfast, crying: - -"Well, little one, we are hungry, and thirsty above all! for it's hot -already and the paints make your throat dry." - -Mila hastened to wait upon them; but when she placed her jug on the -table at which they were breakfasting, she noticed that it was empty. -Michel offered to go and refill it, after making fun of her -absent-mindedness. Sensitive to the reproof, and making it a point of -honor to be her old father's only servant, Mila snatched the jug from -him and ran lightly to the fountain. - -This fountain was a beautifully clear spring which gushed from the very -heart of the lava, in a soft of cliff behind the house. It not -infrequently happens in those regions overrun by lava, that springs -become choked up by volcanic matter and disappear, to appear again after -the lapse of several years. The people dig in search of the former bed. -They find that the water has broken out a passage under the cold fires -of the volcano, and, as soon as it is given an opportunity, it rushes to -the surface, as pure and healthful as before. The one which bathed the -base of Pier-Angelo's house bubbled up at the bottom of a deep -excavation that had been made in the rock, to which a picturesque -staircase led. It formed a little basin for the laundresses, and a -quantity of white linen, hung upon all the walls of the grotto, kept it -constantly dark and cool there. Pretty Mila, as she tripped up and down -that steep staircase ten times a day, with her jug upon her head, was a -most perfect model for those classical figures which the painters of the -last century inevitably placed in all their Italian landscapes; and in -truth what more natural accessory, what more charming _local color_ -could one give to those pictures than the faces and costumes, the -majestic yet sprightly attitudes of those graceful, brown nymphs? - - - - -XXXIV - -AT THE FOUNTAIN - - -When Mila descended the staircase cut in the rock, she saw a man sitting -on the edge of the spring, but was not alarmed. Her heart was all full -of love and hope, and the recollection of the dangers that threatened -her was powerless to affect her. Even when she reached the brink of the -spring, this man, whose back was turned to her, and whose head and body -were enveloped in the long hooded cape which the common people wear,[8] -did not arouse her suspicions; but when he turned and asked her in a -soft voice if she would permit him to drink from her jug, she started; -for it seemed to her that she recognized the voice, and she noticed that -there was no one in sight, either above or below the fountain; that not -a child was playing on the staircase as usual, in fact, that she was -alone with this stranger, whose voice terrified her. - -She pretended not to have heard him, hastily filled her jug, and -prepared to go up again. But the stranger, reclining on the stones, -either to bar her way or perhaps to rest more comfortably, said to her -in the same caressing tone: - -"Rebecca, will you refuse a drop of water to Jacob, the friend and -servant of the family?" - -"I do not know you," replied Mila, trying to assume a calm and -indifferent tone. "Can you not put your lips to the cascade? You can -drink from it much better than from a jug." - -The stranger calmly passed his arms around Mila's legs, and compelled -her to lean on his shoulder to avoid falling. - -"Let me go," she said, terrified and angry, "or I will call for help. I -have no time to jest with you, and I am not one of those who dally with -every strange man they see. Let me go, I tell you, or I will shriek." - -"Mila," said the unknown, throwing back his hood, "I am no stranger to -you, although it is not long since we became acquainted. We have -relations together which it is not in your power to break off, and which -it is your duty not to refuse to recognize. The life, fortune, and honor -of those who are dearest to you on earth rest on my zeal and my loyalty. -I have something to say to you; give me your jug, so that if anyone is -watching it will not seem unnatural that you should have stopped here a -moment with me." - -On recognizing the mysterious guest of the previous night, Mila was -subjugated as it were by a sort of dread not unmingled with respect. For -we must tell the whole truth: Mila was a woman, and the Piccinino's -beauty, his youth, his expression and his soft voice did not fail to -exert a secret influence upon her sensitive and slightly romantic -instincts. - -"My lord," she said to him, for it was impossible not to take him for a -nobleman in disguise, "I will obey you; but do not detain me by force, -and speak more quickly, for this situation is not without danger to us -both." - -She handed him her jug, from which he drank without haste; for, -meanwhile, he held the girl's lovely bare arm in his hand and gazed upon -its beautiful shape, pressing it at the same time to force her to tip -the jug gradually, as he quenched his real or pretended thirst. - -"Now, Mila," he said, covering his face, which he had left uncovered for -her to admire, "listen to me! The monk who frightened you yesterday will -come here again as soon as your father and brother have gone out: they -are to dine to-day with the Marquis della Serra. Do not try to keep them -at home on any account; if they should stay at home, if they should see -the monk, if they should try to drive him away, it would be the signal -for some disaster which I could not prevent. If you are prudent and -devoted to your family, you will even spare the monk the danger of -showing himself in your house. You will come here as if to wash; I know -that, before going into the house, he will prowl about here and will try -to surprise you outside of your yard, for he is afraid of the neighbors. -Do not be afraid of him; he is a coward, and he will never attempt to -use violence with you in broad daylight, or when he is in any danger of -being discovered. He will talk to you again of his ignoble desires. Cut -the conversation short; but pretend that you have changed your mind. -Tell him to go away because you are watched; but make an appointment -with him for twenty o'clock[9] at a place which I will indicate, and -whither you must go alone, an hour earlier. I will be there. You will -run no risk therefore. I will take charge of the monk, and you will -never hear of him again. You will be delivered from a detestable -persecutor, Princess Agatha will no longer be in danger of being -dishonored by shocking calumnies; your father will no longer have the -threat of imprisonment hanging over him, and your brother Michel that of -the assassin's dagger." - -"Great God! great God!" said Mila, panting with fear and surprise, "this -monk is so ill-disposed toward us and able to injure us so! Is he Abbé -Ninfo?" - -"Speak lower, girl, and do not let that accursed name reach the ears -that surround you to-day. Be calm; seem to know nothing and to be doing -nothing. If you say a word of all this to anybody, no matter who it may -be, you will be prevented from saving those whom you love. You will be -told to distrust me, because your own prudence and strength of will are -distrusted. Who knows if I shall not be taken for your enemy? I am not -afraid of anyone, but I am afraid that my friends will destroy -themselves by their indecision. You alone can save them, Mila! Will you -do it?" - -"Yes, I will," she said; "but what will become of me if you are -deceiving me? if you do not keep the appointment?" - -"Why, don't you know who I am?" - -"No, I do not know; no one was willing to tell me." - -"Look at me, then; venture to examine me carefully, and you will know me -better from my face than all those people do who have spoken to you -about me." - -He put aside his hood, and was able to give to his handsome face so -reassuring and affectionate and gentle an expression, that the -simple-hearted Mila yielded to its dangerous influence. - -"It seems to me," she said, with a blush, "that you are kind and honest; -if the devil is in you, he has put on the mask of an angel." - - -[Illustration: _MILA SURPRISED AT THE FOUNTAIN._ - -_She handed him her jug, from which he drank -without haste; for, meanwhile, he held the girl's -lovely bare arm in his hand and gazed upon its -beautiful shape, pressing it at the same time to force -her to tip the jug gradually, as he quenched his real -or pretended thirst._] - - -The Piccinino closed his hood to conceal the sensuous gratification -afforded him by that artless confession from the loveliest lips in the -world. - -"Very well," he replied, "follow your instinct. Obey only the promptings -of your heart; let me tell you, moreover, that your uncle at Bel Passo -brought me up as his son, that your dear Princess Agatha has placed her -fortune and her honor in my hands, and that, if she were not a woman, -that is to say a bit of a prude, she would have made this most essential -appointment with Abbé Ninfo." - -"But I am a woman too," said Mila, "and I am afraid. Why is this -appointment so essential?" - -"Don't you know that I am to kidnap Abbé Ninfo? How can I seize him in -the streets of Catania, or at the gates of Villa Ficarazzi? Must I not -lure him out of his den, and lead him into a trap? His evil fate -ordained that he should fall insanely in love with you." - -"Oh! don't use the word love in connection with such a man; it makes me -shudder. And you want me to make a pretence of encouraging him! I shall -die of shame and disgust." - -"Farewell, Mila," said the bandit, pretending to rise. "I see that you -are a woman like other women, after all, a weak, vain creature, who -thinks only of saving herself, utterly heedless of the calumnies and -blows that may fall upon the heads which should be most sacred to her!" - -"No, no, I am not like that!" she replied proudly. "I will sacrifice my -life in this experiment; as for my honor, I shall find a way to die -before it is stained." - -"Good, good, my brave girl! Now you are talking as Fra Angelo's niece -should talk. You see that I am perfectly undisturbed on your account, -however, because I know that you are in no danger." - -"But are not you in danger, my lord? If you fall, who will protect me -against this monk?" - -"A dagger thrust--not in your beautiful bosom, my poor angel, as you -threaten, but in the throat of a vile beast, who is not worthy to die by -a woman's hand, and who will never expose himself to that risk." - -"Where must I agree to meet him?" - -"At Nicolosi, at the house of Carmelo Tomabene, farmer, who, you will -tell him, is your friend and kinsman. You will add that he is absent, -that you have the keys of his house, and that there is a large sheltered -garden which he can enter, unseen by anyone, by going down through the -ravine of the _Destatore's Cross_. Can you remember all that?" - -"Perfectly; and will he go?" - -"He will go without any doubt, and without a suspicion that this Carmelo -Tomabene is on very intimate terms with a certain Piccinino, who is said -to be a leader of bandits, and to whom, only yesterday, he offered a -princely fortune on condition that he would kidnap your brother and at -need murder him." - -"Blessed Madonna, protect me! The Piccinino! I have heard of him; he is -a terrible man. Will he be there with you? I should die of fright if I -saw him!" - -"And yet," said the bandit, overjoyed to find that Mila knew so little -of what was going on, "I will wager that, like all the girls in the -neighborhood, you are dying with the longing to see him." - -"I should rather like to see him, because they say he is so ugly! But I -should want to be sure that he did not see me!" - -"Never fear; there will be nobody but myself at the farmer's house in -Nicolosi. Tell me, are you afraid of me too, child that you are? Have I -a very dreadful, very wicked look?" - -"No, indeed you have not! But why must I keep the appointment? Won't it -be enough if I send the abbé--I mean the monk?" - -"He is suspicious, like all criminals; he will never go into Carmelo -Tomabene's garden unless he sees you walking there all alone. By going -there an hour in advance of the time fixed, you run no risk of meeting -him on the road; at all events, go by the Bel Passo road, which you -probably know better than the other. Have you ever been to Nicolosi?" - -"Never, my lord; is it a very long way?" - -"Too far for your little feet, Mila; but you can cling to a mule's back, -can't you?" - -"Oh! yes, I think so." - -"You will find a perfectly safe, gentle beast behind Villa Palmarosa. A -child will bring it to you, with a white rose for countersign. Drop the -reins on the trusty creature's neck, and have no fear, but let him go as -fast as he will. In less than an hour he will bring you to my gate, -without once missing the way or taking a false step, however horrible -the road he selects may seem to you. You won't be afraid, Mila?" - -"And suppose I should meet the abbé?" - -"Lash your beast, and don't be afraid that anyone will overtake you." - -"But if I am to go by way of Bel Passo, you will surely allow my uncle -to escort me?" - -"No, your uncle has business elsewhere for the same good cause; but, if -you notify him, he will insist upon accompanying you. If he sees you, he -will follow you, and our whole undertaking will have come to naught. I -have no time to tell you more. I think that I hear some one calling you. -You hesitate; does that mean that you refuse?" - -"I am not hesitating; I will go! My lord, do you believe in God?" - -This abrupt and ingenuous question made the Piccinino turn pale and -smile at the same time. - -"Why do you ask me that?" he said, pulling his hood over his face. - -"Ah! you know why?" said she. "God hears and sees everything. He -punishes falsehood and assists innocence!" - -Again they heard Pier-Angelo's voice, calling his daughter. - -"Go," said the Piccinino, supporting her with his hands, to assist her -to mount the staircase quickly; "remember, if a single word escapes you, -we are lost." - -"You too?" - -"I too!" - -"That would be a pity," thought Mila, turning at the top of the -staircase to cast a last glance at the comely stranger, of whom it was -impossible not to make a hero and a friend of the first order, and whom, -in her joyous imagination, she placed beside Agatha. He had such a soft -voice and such a sweet smile! His tone was so noble, his authoritative -air so convincing! "I will be brave and discreet," she said. "I am only -a little girl, and yet I am the one who is to save everybody's life!" In -all times, alas! the sparrow has yielded to the fascination of the -vulture. - -In all this the Piccinino gave way to an inborn passion for increasing -the difficulties of an adventure to his profit, or simply for amusement. -To be sure, he had no better way of enticing Abbé Ninfo to his house -than by offering a bait to his lust. But he might well have chosen some -other woman than the innocent Mila to play, with the aid of some slight -resemblance or of a similar costume, the part of the person who was to -appear in his garden. The abbé was sometimes insultingly suspicious, -because he was a horrible coward; but, blinded by ridiculous -presumption, and impelled by lecherous impatience, he would have fallen -into the trap. A little violence, a man stationed behind the gate, would -have sufficed to place him in the bandit's hands. There were many other -ruses to which the Piccinino was accustomed to resort, and which might -have succeeded as well; for the abbé, with all his scheming, his -inquisitiveness, his incessant espionage, his impudent falsehoods and -his shameless persistence, was a villain of the lowest order, and the -stupidest and least adroit man on earth. People are too much afraid of -knaves as a general rule; they do not know that the majority of them are -fools. Abbé Ninfo would not have had to take half the trouble to do -twice the harm, if he had had ever so little intelligence and real -penetration. - -For instance, we have seen that he was always beside the truth in his -discoveries. He had assumed innumerable disguises and invented a -thousand time-worn methods of watching what was taking place at Villa -Palmarosa; and he was thoroughly persuaded that Michel was the -princess's lover. He was a hundred leagues from suspecting the nature of -the tie between them. He might easily have deceived Doctor Recuperati, -whose unswerving uprightness lacked foresight and intelligence; and yet, -desiring to steal the will from him, he had delayed from day to day, and -had never succeeded in gaining his confidence in the slightest degree. -It was impossible for him to play for five minutes the rôle of a -well-meaning man, his face bore so unmistakably the stamp of unalloyed -and unbounded baseness. - -His vices embarrassed him, as he himself admitted, even proclaimed, when -he was intoxicated. Dissolute, avaricious, and so intemperate that he -fuddled his brain when lucidity was most essential to him, he had -conducted a difficult intrigue to a successful end. The cardinal had for -a long time made use of him as a police agent for whom no task was too -vile, and he had never valued him except as a tool of the lowest order. -In his days of cynical wit, the prelate had branded him with an epithet -which we shall not attempt to translate, and from which he had never -been able to rise. - -Thus he had had no share in the family affairs and secrets of State -which had filled the life of Monsignor Hieronymo. The contempt which he -inspired in his master had survived his loss of memory, and the aged -prelate, paralyzed and almost in his dotage, was not even afraid of him, -and recovered the power of speech with him only to call him by the -degrading sobriquet which he had previously bestowed on him. - -Another proof of the abbé's idiocy was his cherished conviction that he -could seduce all the women who aroused his desires. - -"With a little money and a lot of lies," he would say, "with threats, -compliments and promises, a man can obtain the proudest or the humblest -of them." - -Consequently he flattered himself that he could obtain a share of -Agatha's fortune by effecting the removal of the man whom he presumed to -be her lover. He was capable of but one thing, of placing Michel at the -muzzle of a bandit's gun, and shouting _fire_! in a moment of -disappointed vanity and greed; he would not have dared to kill him -himself, just as he would not have dared to do violence to Mila, if she -had threatened him with nothing more than a pair of scissors. - -But, abject wretch that he was, he had a certain power for evil; it did -not spring from him, the villainy of other men had invested him with it. -The Neapolitan police lent him its dastardly and odious assistance when -he requested it. He had caused many innocent victims to be exiled, -ruined, or cast into dungeons, and he might very well have seized Michel -without having recourse to the brigands of the mountain. But he wished -to be able to surrender him, at need, for a heavy ransom, and he wished -to have the terms of ransom discussed by avowed brigands, whose interest -it would be not to betray him. His whole rôle consisted in seeking out -the _bravi_ and saying to them: "I have discovered a love intrigue which -is worth something. Do the job, and we will divide the profits." - -But herein again he had been gulled. A shrewd _bravo_, who _worked_ in -the city under the Piccinino's direction, and who would not have -presumed to do anything without consulting him, had deceived the abbé -by inviting him to a rendezvous at which he had not seen the real -Piccinino, who was present, however, behind a partition. The Piccinino -had thereupon threatened to break the head of the first of the two -accomplices who should say a word or take a step without orders from -him, and they knew that he was a man to keep his word. Indeed, the young -adventurer governed his band with such extraordinary skill, with a -mixture of gentleness and despotism so well blended, that his father had -not been so loved and dreaded as he was, although, to be sure, he had -acted upon a larger scale and his enterprises had been more extensive. -He could be perfectly at ease, therefore; his secrets would not have -been revealed under torture, and he was able to gratify the caprice -which he frequently had, of carrying out entirely alone, without a -confidant and without assistance, an undertaking in which he had no need -of using main force, but only of craft and strategy. - -That is why the Piccinino, sure of the success of his plan, which was of -the simplest, chose to blend with it, on his own account, poetic, -strange, and romantic incidents, or real passions, according to his -whim. His vivid imagination and his cold nature involved him constantly -in contradictory enterprises, from which he was always able to extricate -himself, thanks to his great intelligence and his self-control. He had -always sailed his craft so skilfully that, outside of his accomplices -and the very small number of his intimate friends, no one could have -proved that the famous captain, Piccinino, natural son of the -_Destatore_, and the placid villager Carmelo Tomabene were one and the -same man. The latter also was supposed to be a son of Castro-Reale; but -there were so many others in the mountains who prided themselves upon -that perilous origin! - - -[Footnote 8: It is a double woolen _surtout_, of several different -colors inside and out. It is worn as a protection against the sun's heat -as well as against the cold.] - -[Footnote 9: That is to say, four hours before nightfall.] - - - - -XXXV - -THE COAT OF ARMS - - -Thus the one really formidable enemy of the Lavoratori family, had he -chosen to assume that character, was the Piccinino; but Mila had no -suspicion of it, and Fra Angelo relied upon that element of heroism -which formed, if we may so express it, half of his ward's character. The -worthy monk was not free from anxiety, none the less; he had hoped that -he would soon see him again, and have an opportunity to make sure of his -disposition in the matter: but he had waited and sought in vain. He was -beginning to wonder if he had not turned the wolf into the sheepfold, -and if it were not a great mistake to act in concert with men who were -capable of doing what one would not be willing to do oneself. - -He went to Villa Palmarosa at the usual hour for the daily siesta, and -found Agatha preparing to enjoy the delights of that moment of repose so -essential to Southern peoples. - -"Set your mind at rest, my dear padre," she said, "my anxiety vanished -with the daylight. At dawn I was so far from confident concerning your -ward's purposes, that I went myself to make sure that he had not -murdered Michel during the night. But the child was sleeping quietly and -the Piccinino had already gone." - -"You went yourself to investigate, signora? What will the people in the -suburb say of such a proceeding?" - -"They will never know anything about it, I trust. I was alone and on -foot, entirely covered by an old-fashioned _mazzaro_[10] and, if I met -any persons who know me, they certainly did not recognize me. However, -my good padre, I no longer have any serious fears. The abbé knows -nothing." - -"You are sure of it?" - -"I am perfectly sure, and the cardinal is as incapable of remembering -anything whatsoever, as the doctor represented him to be. Nevertheless, -the abbé has evil projects on hand. Would you believe that he supposes -Michel to be my lover?" - -"And the Piccinino believed it?" said the monk, in dismay. - -"He believes it no longer," replied Agatha. "I received a note from him -this morning in which he gives me his word that I can be perfectly at -ease; that the abbé will be in his power in the course of the day, and -that until then he will find a way to keep him so busy that we shall -hear nothing from him. So I breathe freely, and have only one subject of -anxiety; that is, to know how I am to escape the intimacy of Captain -Piccinino hereafter, for he threatens to become too attentive. But we -will talk of that later; sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof; -and if, after all, it should become necessary for me to tell him the -truth--You do not think him the man to abuse it, do you?" - -"I know that he is the man to pretend that he proposes to take advantage -of and abuse every opportunity; but have the courage to treat him always -as a paragon of sincerity and generosity, and you will see that he will -try to live up to the character, and will do it, in spite of the devil." - -The princess and the Capuchin talked together for a long while, and -mutually informed each other of all that they knew. After which, Fra -Angelo went down to Catania to cancel Magnani's orders, to make another -appointment with him to meet Agatha, and to take his place as escort to -Michel and his father to the Marquis della Serra's palace; for, in spite -of everything, Fra Angelo did not like the idea of their being alone in -the country, so long as he himself had not seen the _Destatore's_ son. - -We will follow these three members of the Lavoratori family to the -marquis's villa, leaving Mila in anxious expectation of the monk's -visit, while Magnani, working on the gallery opposite her room, was far -from suspecting that, after asking his assistance, she was watching for -an opportunity to steal out of sight. She had promised her father to go -and dine with her friend Nenna, as soon as she had washed and ironed a -veil which she said that she must have to wear. Everything happened as -her unknown friend had predicted. She saw the monk at the fountain, and -had no need to feign a most intense fear of being taken by surprise, for -she asked herself in dire distress what Magnani would think of her if, -after what she had told him, he should see her voluntarily talking with -that miserable wretch. - -To avoid the necessity of speaking to him and looking at his disgusting -face, she tossed him a written paper which he read with the utmost -delight; then he went away, throwing her kisses which made her quiver -with disgust and indignation. - -At that moment her father, brother, and uncle, having no shadow of -suspicion of the perils to which the poor child was about to expose -herself for them, entered the Della Serra palace. That sumptuous -dwelling, more modern than that of Palmarosa, from which it was -separated only by their respective great parks and a narrow valley -covered with gardens and grass, was filled with artistic objects, -statues, urns, and magnificent paintings, which the marquis had -collected with the enthusiasm of an earnest and enlightened connoisseur. -He came forward in person to meet the Angelos, shook hands with them -cordially, and, pending the dinner-hour, took them all over his noble -residence, showing to them and explaining courteously, and with no less -wit than good sense, the masterpieces of art with which it was -embellished. Pier-Angelo, although a simple decorator, had excellent -taste, and a due appreciation of the beautiful in art. He was peculiarly -susceptible to the charm of all those marvellous things with which he -was already familiar, and his artless yet profound reflections enlivened -the most serious conversation instead of lowering its tone. Michel was a -little embarrassed at first in the marquis's presence; but as he soon -discovered that his father's natural and unconstrained manner seemed to -a man of sense like the marquis in unexceptionable taste and most -becoming, he felt more at ease; and finally, when he found himself -sitting at a table laden with silver plate, decorated as handsomely and -with as great an abundance of flowers as for the entertainment of the -most illustrious guests, he forgot his prejudices, and talked as freely -and interestingly as if he had been the marquis's own son or nephew. - -A single thing disturbed him strangely during the dinner: the expression -and attitude which he attributed to the marquis's servants; I say which -he attributed, because he dared not look at them. He had dined many a -time at the tables of the rich when he was in Rome, especially after his -father returned to Catania, and he no longer had a family to keep him at -home and prevent his seeking the society of the fashionable youth of the -city. So that he did not fear any affront for himself; but, as it was -the first time that he and his father had been invited to dine abroad -with a patrician, he suffered torments at the idea that the lackeys -might shrug their shoulders and pass the dishes rudely to the excellent -old man. - -In truth those lackeys might well have had a feeling of anger and -contempt, having seen Pier-Angelo on his ladder so many times in that -same palace, and treated him as their equal. - -Nevertheless, whether because the marquis had prepared them by a word or -two of kindly and straightforward explanation calculated to flatter and -soothe the sensitive self-love of men of that class, or because -Pier-Angelo was so great a favorite with all who knew him that even -footmen laid aside their customary pride in his favor, they served him -with much deference. Michel observed it at last, when his father, -turning to an old servant who was filling his glass, said to him with a -smile: - -"Many thanks, old fellow; you wait on me like a friend. I'll do as much -for you when I have the chance." - -Michel flushed and glanced at the marquis, who smiled with a touched and -gratified air. The old servant also smiled at Pier-Angelo with a -friendly glance. - -After the dessert was removed, the marquis was informed that Master -Barbagallo, the princess's majordomo, was waiting in one of the rooms of -the palace to show him a picture. They found him in conference with Fra -Angelo, whose sobriety and restless activity made him impatient of a -long sitting at table, and who had asked leave to walk about the grounds -immediately after the first course. - -At first, the marquis went alone to Barbagallo, to ask if he had any -private message for him from the princess; and when they had exchanged -in an undertone a few words which seemed to be of no importance, to -judge by their faces, the marquis returned to Michel and said, putting -his arm through his: - -"Perhaps it will afford you some pleasure to see my family portraits, -which are in a separate gallery, and which I had forgotten to show you. -Don't be alarmed at the multitude of ancestors assembled under my roof. -You can look them over at a glance, and I will call your attention -particularly only to those which are the work of some great master. -However, it is an interesting collection of costumes, which a historical -painter might consult with advantage. But, before going in, let us cast -a glance at this one which Master Barbagallo has brought to us, having -just disinterred it in the lofts of Villa Palmarosa.--My dear child," he -added, in a low voice, "pray bestow a greeting on the poor majordomo, -who is outdoing himself in reverences, being ashamed, doubtless, of his -behavior to you at the princess's ball." - -Michel at last noticed the majordomo's advances, and replied to them -without resentment. Since he had become reconciled to his position and -to himself, he felt that he was cured of his over-sensitiveness, and -believed, with his father, that no impertinence can reach the man who -possesses his own esteem. - -"This which I present to your excellency," said the majordomo to the -marquis, "is a very much dilapidated Palmarosa; but, although the -inscription had almost disappeared, I have succeeded in deciphering it, -and here it is on a bit of paper." - -"What!" said the marquis, with a smile, "you succeeded in reading that -this swashbuckler was a captain in the reign of King Manfred, and that -he accompanied John of Procida to Constantinople? That is wonderful. For -myself, I read the original inscription with the eyes of faith!" - -"You can be perfectly sure that I am not mistaken," replied Barbagallo. -"I knew this gallant captain well, and I have been trying for a long -time to find his portrait." - -Pier-Angelo roared with laughter. - -"Ah! so you lived in those days!" he said; "I knew that you were older -than I am, Master Barbagallo, but I didn't suppose that you saw our -Sicilian Vespers!" - -"Would that I had not seen it!" exclaimed Fra Angelo, with a sigh. - -"I must explain Master Barbagallo's learning, and the interest he takes -in my family gallery," said the marquis to Michel. "He has passed his -life in this labor of patience, and no one is so familiar as he with -Sicilian genealogies. My family was connected by marriage in the past -with the Princess of Palmarosa's, and even more closely with the family -of Castro-Reale, of which you have doubtless heard." - -"I heard a great deal about it yesterday," replied Michel, with a smile. - -"Very good; when I became the last heir of that family, after the death -of the famous prince known as the _Destatore_, all that came to me by -that succession--to which I gave very little thought, I promise you--was -a collection of ancestors which I did not even care to unpack, but which -Master Barbagallo, being enamored of curios of that sort, took pains to -clean and classify, and to hang in their proper order in the gallery you -are about to inspect. There were already in that gallery, in addition to -my own direct ancestors, a goodly number of ancestors of the Palmarosa -line, and Princess Agatha, who cares nothing for collections of the -sort, sent me hers, saying that it would be better to collect them in a -single place. That gave Master Barbagallo a very long and difficult -task, which he executed with honor to himself. Come, all of you, for I -have many characters to present to Michel, and it may be that he will -need his father's and uncle's assistance to hold his own against so many -dead men." - -"I retire, in order not to impose my presence upon your lordships," said -Master Barbagallo, after accompanying them to the gallery to deposit his -Sicilian captain; "I will return some other time to put my picture in -place; unless the signor marquis desires that I should give Master -Michelangelo Lavoratori, whose very humble servant I am to-day and -always, the history of the originals of these portraits." - -"What, signor majordomo," laughed Michel, "you know the story of all -these characters? There are more than three hundred of them!" - -"There are five hundred and thirty, your lordship, and I not only know -their names and all the incidents of their lives, with their precise -dates, but I also know the name, age, and sex of all the children who -died before their features were reproduced, to be transmitted to -posterity. There have been three hundred and twenty-seven, including -those born dead. I have omitted none but those that never were -baptized." - -"That is marvellous!" said Michel; "but if I had been in your place, -having such a memory, I should have preferred to learn the history of -the human race rather than that of a single family." - -"The human race doesn't interest me," replied the majordomo, gravely. -"His excellency, Prince Dionigi de Palmarosa, father of the present -princess, did not entrust me with the duty of teaching his children -history. But, as I loved to be occupied, and as I had much time to -myself, in a house where no banquets or parties have been given for two -generations, he advised me, for amusement, to make a summary of the -history of his family, which was scattered through a multitude of -manuscript folio volumes, which you can see in the library at Palmarosa, -and all of which I examined and studied to the last letter." - -"And did it really amuse you?" - -"Much, Master Pier-Angelo," the majordomo solemnly replied to the old -painter's jocose question. - -"I see," rejoined Michel, ironically, "that your lordship is no ordinary -steward, and that you are far more cultivated than your duties require." - -"My duties, while not brilliant, have always been very pleasant," -replied the majordomo, "even in Prince Dionigi's day, and he was -pleasant to nobody but me. He had much consideration, almost friendship -for me, because I was an open book which he could consult at any hour -concerning his ancestors. As for the princess, his daughter, as she is -kind to everybody, I cannot but be happy with her. I do almost exactly -as I choose, and there are only three things about her that grieve me, -and those are her giving up her family gallery, her never consulting her -genealogical tree, and her not deigning to investigate the science of -heraldry. And yet it is a delightful science, and one which ladies used -to cultivate with success." - -"And now it is a part of the stock in trade of decorators and gilders of -wood," said Michel, laughing anew. "They are attractive ornaments of -which the bright colors and the flavor of the days of chivalry please -the eye and the imagination; that is all." - -"That is all?" rejoined the scandalized steward; "pardon me, your -lordship, that is not all. Heraldry is history written in hieroglyphics -_ad hoc_. Alas! the time will soon come, perhaps, when we shall know how -to read this mysterious writing better than the sacramental characters -which cover the tombs and monuments of Egypt! And yet what profound and -ingeniously expressed meaning there is in that figurative language! To -place upon a seal, upon the bezel of a ring the whole history of one's -own race--is not that the result of a marvellous art? And what more -concise and more impressive signs have civilized people ever used?" - -"What he says is not without a basis of reason and common sense," said -the marquis, in an undertone, addressing Michel. "But you listen to him -with a disdainful expression which impresses me, young man. Come! say -all that you think; I would like to hear it, in order to ascertain -whether you have good reason for laughing at the nobility with a touch -of bitterness, as you seem inclined to do. Do not be embarrassed; I will -listen to you as calmly and disinterestedly as yonder dead men, who look -down upon us with lifeless eyes, from their frames blackened by the -lapse of time." - - -[Footnote 10: A black silk cloak, which covers the whole body and the -head.] - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PICCININO, VOLUME 01 (OF -2) *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ -concept and trademark. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Piccinino, Volume 01 (of 2)</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:1em;'>The masterpieces of George Sand, volume 7</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: George Sand</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Translator: G. Burnham Yves</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Illustrator: Oreste Cortazzo</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: January 19, 2023 [eBook #69839]<br> -[Most recently updated: January 31, 2023]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Dagny and Laura Natal Rodrigues (Images generously made available by Hathi Trust Digital Library.)</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PICCININO, VOLUME 01 (OF 2) ***</div> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="500" alt="500"> -</div> - -<h1>THE MASTERPIECES OF -<br> -GEORGE SAND</h1> - -<p><br><br></p> - -<h2>AMANDINE LUCILLE AURORE DUPIN,<br> -BARONESS DUDEVANT</h2> - -<p><br><br></p> - -<h3>VOLUME VII</h3> - -<p><br><br></p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h2>The Masterpieces of George Sand<br> -Amandine Lucille Aurore Dupin, Baroness<br> -Dudevant, <i>NOW FOR THE FIRST<br> -TIME COMPLETELY TRANSLATED<br> -INTO ENGLISH THE PICCININO,<br> -AND THE LAST OF THE<br> -ALDINIS BY G. BURNHAM IVES</i></h2> - -<p><br><br></p> - -<h3><i>WITH TWELVE PHOTOGRAVURES AFTER PAINTINGS BY<br> -ORESTE CORTAZZO.</i></h3> - -<p><br><br></p> - -<h3><i>VOLUME I</i></h3> - -<p><br><br></p> - -<h4><i>PRINTED ONLY FOR SUBSCRIBERS BY<br> -GEORGE BARRIE & SON<br> -PHILADELPHIA</i></h4> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> -<a id="frontispiece"></a> -<br> -<img src="images/frontispiece.jpg" width="400" alt="400"> -<div class="caption"> -<p><i>EXAMINING THE ABBÉ'S PAPERS.</i></p> -<p class="smaller"> -<i>He opened and ran through several other papers -which mentioned none but unknown names, and -which Mila burned without looking at them.</i></p> -</div></div> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4>CONTENTS</h4> -<p class="nind"><a href="#INTRODUCTION">INTRODUCTION</a><br> -CHAPTER<br> -I. <a href="#chap01">THE TRAVELLER</a><br> -II. <a href="#chap02">THE TRAVELLER'S STORY</a><br> -III. <a href="#chap03">MONSIGNORE</a><br> -IV. <a href="#chap04">MYSTERIES</a><br> -V. <a href="#chap05">THE CASINO</a><br> -VI. <a href="#chap06">THE STAIRCASE</a><br> -VII. <a href="#chap07">A GLANCE</a><br> -VIII. <a href="#chap08">THE INTRUDER</a><br> -IX. <a href="#chap09">MILA</a><br> -X. <a href="#chap10">PROBLEM</a><br> -XI. <a href="#chap11">THE GROTTO OF THE NAIAD</a><br> -XII. <a href="#chap12">MAGNANI</a><br> -XIII. <a href="#chap13">AGATHA</a><br> -XIV. <a href="#chap14">BARBAGALLO</a><br> -XV. <a href="#chap15">ROMANTIC LOVE</a><br> -XVI. <a href="#chap16">CONCLUSION OF MAGNANI'S STORY</a><br> -XVII. <a href="#chap17">THE CYCLAMEN</a><br> -XVIII. <a href="#chap18">THE MONKS</a><br> -XIX. <a href="#chap19">YOUTHFUL LOVES</a><br> -XX. <a href="#chap20">BEL PASSO AND MAL PASSO</a><br> -XXI. <a href="#chap21">FRA ANGELO</a><br> -XXII. <a href="#chap22">THE FIRST STEP ON THE MOUNTAIN</a><br> -XXIII. <a href="#chap23">THE DESTATORE</a><br> -XXIV. <a href="#chap24">IL PICCININO</a><br> -XXV. <a href="#chap25">THE DESTATORE'S CROSS</a><br> -XXVI. <a href="#chap26">AGATHA</a><br> -XXVII. <a href="#chap27">DIPLOMACY</a><br> -XXVIII. <a href="#chap28">JEALOUSY</a><br> -XXIX. <a href="#chap29">APPARITIONS</a><br> -XXX. <a href="#chap30">THE FALSE MONK</a><br> -XXXI. <a href="#chap31">WITCHCRAFT</a><br> -XXXII. <a href="#chap32">THE ESCALADE</a><br> -XXXIII. <a href="#chap33">THE RING</a><br> -XXXIV. <a href="#chap34">AT THE FOUNTAIN</a><br> -XXXV. <a href="#chap35">THE COAT OF ARMS</a></p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - - -<h4>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS -<br> -THE PICCININO -<br> -VOLUME I</h4> - -<p class="nind"> -<a href="#frontispiece">EXAMINING THE ABBÉ'S PAPERS</a><br> - -<a href="#figure01">THE CARDINAL'S ESCORT</a><br> - -<a href="#figure02">THE BALL AT THE PALMAROSA PALACE</a><br> - -<a href="#figure03">AFTER THE FÊTE</a><br> - -<a href="#figure04">THE CONFERENCE WITH THE PICCININO</a><br> - -<a href="#figure05">MILA SURPRISED AT THE FOUNTAIN</a></p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="INTRODUCTION">INTRODUCTION</a></h4> - -<p> -<i>The Piccinino</i> is an imaginary tale, which does not attempt either to -depict any precise period of history or to describe accurately any -country. It is a study in color, dreamed rather than felt, wherein -correct strokes are few and, as it were, accidental. The scene of this -romance might have been placed anywhere else under the skies of Southern -Europe, and my sole reason for selecting Sicily was that I happened to -have a collection of fine engravings before my eyes at that moment. -</p> -<p> -I had always been conscious of a longing to draw my little brigand -chief, as others have done. The brigand chief who formed the principal -motive of so many novels and melodramas under the Empire, under the -Restoration, and even in romantic literature, always proved generally -entertaining, and the principal interest always attached to that -awe-inspiring and mysterious personage. It was most ingenuous on the -part of the public, but so it was. Whether the type was -terror-inspiring, as in the case of Byron's brigands, or, like those of -Cooper, deserving of the Monthyon prize for virtue, it was enough that -those heroes of despair should have legitimately earned the halter or -the galleys, for every tender-hearted and virtuous reader to love them -devotedly from the first page, and to offer up prayers for the success -of their undertakings. Why, then, should I, on the pretext of being a -reasonable person, have deprived myself of the pleasure of creating one -of them according to my fancy? -</p> -<p> -Being fully persuaded that the brigand chief had become a part of the -public domain, and belonged to every novelist, as do all other classical -types, I determined to try at least to make that personage, occupying as -he does so abnormal a position, possible and true to life in his -character. Such a mystery envelops Byron's pirates that one would not -dare to question them, and that one fears or pities them without knowing -them. Indeed we may as well say at once that it is by virtue of that -unexplained mystery that they appeal to us; but I am not Byron, and my -novels are not poems. I desired, for my own part, to draw a perfectly -intelligible character, encompassed by romantic circumstances, who is -somewhat exceptional in himself, but with whom my indulgent reader can -become acquainted, little by little, as with any ordinary mortal. -</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 60%;">GEORGE SAND</p> - -<p> -Nohant, April 22, 1853. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4>THE PICCININO</h4> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4>TO MY FRIEND</h4> - -<h3><i>EMMANUEL ARAGO</i></h3> - -<h4>IN MEMORY OF A PLEASANT EVENING</h4> - - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap01"></a>I -<br><br> -THE TRAVELLER -</h4> - -<p> -The region called <i>piedimonta</i>, which surrounds the base of Ætna, -and of which Catania forms the portion nearest the level of the sea, is, -according to the declared opinions of all travellers, the loveliest -country in the whole world. It is that fact which impels me to place -there the scene of a story which was recently told me, but of which I -was forbidden to reveal the real <i>locus</i> or the real characters. -Therefore, dear reader, pray take the trouble to transport yourself in -imagination to the district called Valdemona, or <i>Valley of the -Demons</i>. It is a beautiful spot, which, however, I do not propose to -describe in great detail, for a sufficiently good reason: namely, that I -am not familiar with it, and one cannot depict very faithfully what one -knows only by hearsay. But there are so many excellent books of travel -that you can consult! unless, indeed, you prefer to go thither in -person, which I would that I, too, might do, to-morrow, provided that it -was not with you, reader; for, in presence of the marvellous beauties of -that spot, you would rebuke me for having described it so ill, and there -is nothing more disagreeable than a travelling companion who is -constantly preaching at you. -</p> -<p> -In default of something better, my fancy is impelled to lead you rather -far away, beyond the mountains, and to leave in peace for a time the -quiet country districts wherein I usually like to frame my tales. The -moving cause of this fancy is exceedingly puerile, but I propose to tell -it to you. -</p> -<p> -I do not know whether you remember, assuming that you do me the honor to -read me, that I placed before you last year a novel entitled <i>The Sin of -Monsieur Antoine</i>, the scene of which was laid on the banks of the -Creuse, and especially among the ruins of the ancient château of -Châteaubrun. Now that château exists, and I drive thither at least -once in every year, although it is about ten leagues from my own home. -This year I was very coldly received by the old peasant woman who has -charge of the ruins. -</p> -<p> -"Look you!" she cried, in her half-Berrichon, half-Marchois patois, "I -don't think much of you; my name is not <i>Janille</i>, but <i>Jennie</i>. -I haven't got any daughter, and I don't lead my master round by the nose. -My master don't wear a blouse; you lied about him. I never saw him in a -blouse, etc., etc. I don't know how to read, but I do know that you've -been writing lies about my master and me. I have no liking for you now." -</p> -<p> -This harangue apprized me that there still lives, not far from the ruins -of Châteaubrun, an old man named Châteaubrun, who never wears a -blouse. That is all that I know about him. -</p> -<p> -But it proved to me that I must needs be most circumspect when writing -of La Marche and Berry. That was at least the tenth time that something -of that sort had happened to me, and every time persons bearing the name -of some of my characters, or living in the localities I have described, -have flown into a passion with me and accused me of slandering them, not -deigning to believe that I took their names by chance, and that I did -not know of their existence. -</p> -<p> -To give them time to become calm again, before I return to that region, -I propose to make an excursion to Sicily. But how shall I avoid making -use of a name that belongs to some inhabitant or some portion of that -celebrated island? A Sicilian hero cannot be called Durand or Wolf, nor -do I find on the map of the country any name which rhymes with Pontoise -or Baden-Baden. I really must baptize my actors and my stage with names -that have some rhyme in <i>a</i>, <i>o</i> or <i>i</i>. I will take -those which are easiest to pronounce, so far as is possible, without -much heed to geographical accuracy, declaring beforehand that I do not -know a cat in Sicily, even by reputation; so that I cannot possibly -intend to point at any particular person. -</p> -<p> -Having made this statement, I am free to choose, and the choice of names -is the most embarrassing question that confronts a novelist who wishes -to become sincerely attached to the characters he creates. In the first -place, I need a princess who has a resounding name, one of those which -give you an exalted idea of the person who bears it; and there are such -lovely names in that country! Acalia, Madonia, Valcorrente, Valverde, -Primosole, Tremisteri, etc.—they all ring true on the ear, like -perfect chords. But if perchance there has ever happened in any of the -patrician families which bear the names of those seignorial localities, -an adventure like that which I am about to describe—a delicate -adventure, I confess—why, I am sure to be accused once more of -evil-speaking or calumny. Luckily, Catania is very far away; my novels -do not, in all probability, pass the lighthouse of Messina, and I trust -that the new pope will do in charity what his predecessor did without -knowing why: that is to say, keep me in the Index; then I shall be -entirely at liberty to speak of Italy, certain that Italy, and with -still stronger reason Sicily, will never suspect it. -</p> -<p> -Consequently my princess shall be called the Princess of Palmarosa. I -defy you to find sweeter sounds or a more flowery meaning in any name in -any novel. And now for her Christian name, we must think of that. We -will call her Agatha, because St. Agatha is the revered patron saint of -Catania. But I will urge the reader to pronounce the name <i>Agata</i>, -even if I should happen inadvertently to write it in French, otherwise he -will miss the local coloring. -</p> -<p> -My hero's name shall be Michelangelo Lavoratori, but we must never -confound him with the illustrious Michelangelo Buonarotti, who died at -least two hundred years before my man's birth. -</p> -<p> -As for the period in which the events are supposed to take -place—another unpleasant incident of the beginning of a -novel—you are entirely at liberty to select it yourself, dear -reader. But inasmuch as our characters will be actuated by ideas now in -circulation in the world, and as it would be impossible for me to speak -to you as I should like to do of the men of past ages, I fancy that the -story of the Princess Agatha of Palmarosa and Michelangelo Lavoratori -belongs somewhere between 1810 and 1840. Fix the precise year, day, and -hour at which we begin our narrative to suit yourself; it is a matter of -indifference to me, for my novel is neither historical nor descriptive, -nor does it pride itself at all upon being exact in either respect. -</p> -<p> -On the day in question—it was in autumn and broad daylight, if you -please—Michelangelo Lavoratori was descending diagonally across the -gorges and ravines which alternate with each other from the slopes of -Ætna to the fertile plain of Catania. He was coming from Rome; he had -crossed the Strait of Messina, he had followed the highroad as far as -Taormina. There, intoxicated by the grandeur of the spectacle which his -eyes beheld in all directions, and uncertain whether to choose the -seashore or the mountains, he had gone forward to some extent at random, -torn between his impatience to embrace his father and sister, whom he -had not seen for a year, and the temptation to go a little nearer the -gigantic volcano, compared to which it seemed to him, as to Spallanzani, -that Vesuvius is simply a parlor volcano. -</p> -<p> -As he was alone and on foot, he had lost his way more than once in that -wild region, intersected by vast streams of lava which form on all sides -steep mountains and valleys filled with luxuriant vegetation. One -travels far and makes very little progress when he must constantly -ascend and descend over a distance quadrupled in length by natural -obstacles. Michel had taken two days to travel the ten leagues, more or -less, which lie between Taormina and Catania as the crow flies; but at -last he was drawing near his journey's end, indeed, he had arrived; for, -after crossing the Cantaro and passing through Mascarello, Piano-Grande, -Valverde, and Mascalucia, he had at last left Santa-Agata on his right -and Ficarazzi on his left. Therefore he was only about a mile from the -suburbs of the city; if he had walked a quarter of an hour more, he -would have reached the end of the adventures of a pedestrian journey, -during which, despite the fascination and the enthusiastic admiration -which such natural scenery inspires in a young artist, he had suffered -considerably from heat in the ravines, from cold on the mountain-tops, -from hunger, and from fatigue. -</p> -<p> -But, as he skirted the wall of a vast park, on the slope of the last -hill which he still had to cross, and as, with his eyes fixed on the -city and the harbor, he quickened his pace to make up for lost time, he -stumbled over the stump of an olive-tree. The pain caused by the blow -was most acute; for, after two days' travelling over sharp slag, and -pozzuolana as hot as red-hot ashes, his shoes were sadly worn and his -feet cruelly bruised and sore. -</p> -<p> -Being compelled to stop, he found himself in front of a niche in the -wall, containing a madonna. This little chapel, sheltered by a stone -projection and provided with a bench, offered a hospitable resting-place -to wayfarers, and to beggars, monks, and others a convenient station at -the very door of the <i>villa</i>, of which our traveller could descry the -handsome buildings through the orange-trees planted in a triple row -along an avenue of considerable length. -</p> -<p> -Michel, more annoyed than cast down by this sudden hurt, dropped his -travelling satchel, seated himself on the bench, and rubbed his injured -foot, but soon forgot it to lose himself in meditation. -</p> -<p> -In order that the reader may understand the reflections which his -surroundings suggested to the young man, it is essential that I should -introduce him somewhat more fully. Michel was eighteen years of age and -was a student of painting at Rome. His father, Pier-Angelo Lavoratori, -was a mere dauber, a decorator, but very skilful in his line. And, as is -well known, in Italy the artisans whose business it is to cover walls -and ceilings with frescoes are almost all genuine artists. Whether from -tradition, or from natural good taste, they produce some very attractive -decorations; and in the most modest abodes, even in wretched taverns, -the eye is charmed by wreaths and rosework done in a fascinating style, -or it may be by borders simply, the coloring of which is happily -contrasted with the dull tints of the panels and wainscoting. These -frescoes are sometimes executed as perfectly as our wall-papers, and -they are much superior to them, in this respect, that one detects in -them the greater ease of manner of work done by hand. Nothing can be -more dismal than the stiff and regular decorations produced by -machinery. The beauty of Chinese vases, and, indeed, of Chinese work in -general, is attributable to that capricious air of spontaneity which the -human hand alone can impart to its work. Grace, freedom, boldness, the -unexpected, and even ingenuous awkwardness are, in decoration, elements -of charm which we are losing day by day, as we depend more and more upon -the resources of machinery and looms. -</p> -<p> -Pier-Angelo was one of the most rapid and ingenious of these -decorators—<i>adornatori</i>. He was a native of Catania, and had -reared his family there until the period of Michel's birth, when he -abruptly left his province and settled in Rome. The reason he assigned -for this voluntary exile was that his family was increasing in size, -that there was too much competition in Catania, and that consequently -his work no longer sufficed for his needs; wherefore he proposed to seek -his fortune elsewhere. But people said under their breath that he had -fled from the resentment of certain all-powerful patricians who were -devoted to the court of Naples. -</p> -<p> -Everyone knows the bitter hatred of that conquered and down-trodden -people for the government on the other side of the strait. The Sicilian, -proud and revengeful, rumbles incessantly like his volcano, and -sometimes erupts. It was whispered that Pier-Angelo had been involved in -an attempt at a popular uprising, and that he had been obliged to fly, -carrying with him his brushes and his household goods. To be sure, his -social and kindly temperament seemed to contradict such a supposition; -but the lively imaginations of the good people of the suburb of Catania -must needs devise an extraordinary motive for the disappearance of one -so loved and regretted by all his confrères. -</p> -<p> -At Rome he was hardly more fortunate, for he had the sorrow of losing -all his children there except Michel; and ere long his wife died in -giving birth to a daughter, whose young brother was her godfather, and -who received the name of Mila, a contraction of Michelangela. -</p> -<p> -Having lost these two children, Pier-Angelo, albeit more melancholy, was -much more at ease financially, and by dint of earnest work, he succeeded -in giving his son an education far superior to that which he had himself -received. He displayed a predilection for that boy which almost amounted -to weakness, and Michel, although poor and obscure, was a veritable -spoiled child. -</p> -<p> -Now, Pier-Angelo had spurred on his other sons to work, and had imparted -to them early in life the ardor which was consuming him. But, whether -because they had succumbed to excessive toil for which they had not -received from Heaven the same aptitude and strength as their father, or -because Pier-Angelo, finding his family reduced to three persons, no -longer deemed it necessary to have assistance, it is certain that he -seemed more anxious to handle tenderly the health of his last remaining -son, than to provide him betimes with a means of livelihood. -</p> -<p> -Nevertheless, the child loved painting, and in play produced fruit, -flowers, and birds, in which the coloring was exquisite. One day he -asked his father why he never introduced figures in his frescoes. -</p> -<p> -"What do you say? figures?" replied the good man, who had an abundance -of common sense: "one must paint very beautiful ones, or else let them -alone. Figure painting is beyond such talent as I have been able to -acquire, and whereas people think well of my garlands and arabesques, I -should be very sure of making connoisseurs laugh if I should attempt to -represent limping cupids or hump-backed nymphs dancing on my ceilings." -</p> -<p> -"Suppose I should try!" said the child, whom nothing daunted. -</p> -<p> -"Try on paper, and however successful you may be for your years, you -will soon see that you must learn before you know." -</p> -<p> -Michel tried. Pier-Angelo showed his son's sketches to some -connoisseurs, and to some painters too, who saw that the child had much -talent, and that it would be well for him not to be confined too closely -to the drudgery of mixing colors. Thereupon, Pier-Angelo determined to -make a painter of him, sent him to one of the best studios in Rome, and -relieved him entirely from preparing colors and daubing walls. -</p> -<p> -"One of two things will happen," he said to himself with good reason; -"either the child will become a master, or, if he has only trifling -talent, he will come back to the trade of decorating with knowledge that -I do not possess, and he will be a workman of the first order in his -line. In either case he will have a freer and more comfortable life than -mine." -</p> -<p> -Not that Pier-Angelo was dissatisfied with his lot. He was blest with -that improvidence, that recklessness, one might say, which are -characteristic of the most laborious and most robust men. He always -relied upon destiny, perhaps because he relied most of all upon his -strong arms and his courage. But as he was a very shrewd and intelligent -observer, he had already detected in Michel the gleam of a spark of -ambition which his other children had never had. He drew the conclusion -that the measure of happiness with which he had been content would not -suffice for that more delicately balanced organism. Tolerant to excess, -and thoroughly convinced that every man has aptitudes which no other man -can estimate accurately, he respected Michel's impulses and inclinations -as manifestations of the will of Heaven, and therein was no less -imprudent than generous. -</p> -<p> -For that blind complaisance was certain to lead, and did in fact lead to -this result—that Michelangelo became accustomed never to suffer, -never to be thwarted, and to look upon his own personality as more -important and more interesting than that of other people. He often -mistook his caprices for desires, and his desires for rights. Moreover, -he was attacked early in life by the disease peculiar to fortunate -mortals, that is to say, the fear that they may not always be so -fortunate; and in the midst of his progress he was often paralyzed by -the fear of failing. A vague disquietude seized upon him, and as he was -naturally energetic and bold, it sometimes made him sullen and -irritable. -</p> -<p> -But we shall obtain a better conception of his character by following -him in the reflections he made at the gates of Catania, in the little -chapel in which he had taken his seat. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap02"></a>II -<br><br> -THE TRAVELLER'S STORY -</h4> - -<p> -I have forgotten to tell you, and it is important that you should know, -why Michel had been separated from his father and sister for a year -past. -</p> -<p> -Although he earned his living readily at Rome, and despite his happy -temperament, Pier-Angelo had never been able to accustom himself to -living abroad, far from his cherished fatherland. Like the genuine -islander he was, he regarded Sicily as a land favored by Heaven in every -respect, and the mainland as a place of exile. When the Catanians speak -of the terrible volcano which overwhelms and ruins them so often, they -carry love of country so far as to say: <i>Our Ætna</i>!—"Ah!" said -Pier-Angelo, on the day that he passed near the lava fields of Vesuvius, -"if you had seen our famous Catanian wave! that was grand and wonderful! -You would never dare to mention yours again!" He referred to the -terrible eruption of 1669, which sent a river of fire to the very centre -of the city, and destroyed half of the population and buildings. The -destruction of Pompeii and Herculaneum seemed to him a jest.—"Psha!" -he would say proudly, "I have seen bigger earthquakes! You should come to -our home if you want to know what an earthquake is!" -</p> -<p> -In fact, he sighed incessantly for the moment when he could see again -his dear furnace and its beloved gate of hell. -</p> -<p> -When Michel and Mila, who were accustomed to his cheerful humor, saw -that he was pensive and downcast, they were grieved and disturbed, as -always happens with respect to persons with whom mental depression is a -rare phenomenon. Thereupon he confessed to his children that he was -thinking of his native land. "If I were not in excellent health," he -said, "and if I did not constantly argue with myself, homesickness would -have killed me long ago." -</p> -<p> -But when his children spoke to him of returning to Sicily, he would wave -his hands in a significant way, as if to say: "I cannot cross the strait -again; I should escape Charybdis only to fall into Scylla." -</p> -<p> -Once or twice he inadvertently said to them: "Prince Dionigi died a long -while ago, but his brother Hieronymo is still living." And when his -children questioned him as to what reason he had to fear Prince -Hieronymo, he shook his finger and said: "Hush! I should not even have -mentioned those princes before you." -</p> -<p> -But it happened one day that Pier-Angelo, being at work in a certain -palace in Rome, picked up a newspaper which he found on the floor, and -showing it to Michel, who had looked in upon him on his way from the -Museum of Painting, he exclaimed: "What a misfortune it is for me not to -know how to read! I will bet that there is news from my dear Sicily in -this paper. Look, look, Michel, what is this word here? I would swear -that it was Catania. Yes, yes, I can read that name! Come, look and tell -me what is going on at Catania in these days." Michel glanced at the -paper, and saw that it was proposed to light the principal streets of -Catania with hydrogen gas. -</p> -<p> -"Great Heaven!" ejaculated Pier-Angelo; "think of seeing Ætna by -gaslight! How beautiful that will be!" -</p> -<p> -And he threw his cap up to the ceiling in his joy. -</p> -<p> -"There is more news," said the young man, looking over the paper. "The -Prince-Cardinal Hieronymo of Palmarosa has been obliged to suspend the -exercise of the important functions which the Neapolitan government has -entrusted to him. His eminence has been stricken by paralysis, and his -life is deemed to be in danger. Pending a definite decision from the -medical profession concerning the mental and physical condition of that -noble personage, the government has entrusted his functions temporarily -to his excellency, the Marquis of——" -</p> -<p> -"What do I care to whom?" cried Pier-Angelo, snatching the paper from -his son's hands with extraordinary excitement, "Prince Hieronymo is off to -join his brother Dionigi in the tomb, and we are saved!"—Then, after -trying to spell out Prince Hieronymo's name for himself, as if he feared -that his son might have made a mistake, he returned the journal to him -and bade him read the paragraph again, very carefully and very slowly. -</p> -<p> -When this was done, Pier-Angelo crossed himself devoutly. -</p> -<p> -"O Providence!" he cried, "Thou hast permitted old Pier-Angelo to -witness the extinction of his persecutors, and to return to his native -city! Embrace me, Michel! this event is of no less importance to you -than to me. Whatever happens, remember that Pier-Angelo Lavoratori has -been a good father to you!" -</p> -<p> -"What do you mean, father? Are you still in any danger? If you must -return to Sicily, I will go with you." -</p> -<p> -"We will talk of that later, Michel. Meanwhile, silence!—Forget -everything, even the words that have escaped me." -</p> -<p> -Two days later, Pier-Angelo folded his tents and started for Catania -with his daughter. He would not consent to take Michel, despite the -latter's earnest entreaties. -</p> -<p> -"No," he said, "I am not certain that I shall be able to settle at -Catania, for I had the papers read to me again this morning, and they -don't say that Cardinal Hieronymo is dead. They don't mention him at -all. A personage so favored by the government, and so rich, could not -recover or die without a great sensation. So I conclude that he is still -alive, but that he is a little better. His temporary substitute is a -most excellent nobleman, a true patriot, and a friend of the people. I -have nothing to fear from the police so long as we have him to deal -with. But if by a miracle this Prince Hieronymo should come back to life -and health, I should have to return to Rome at once; and in that case -what good would it have done to make you take this journey, which would -interrupt your studies?" -</p> -<p> -"But," said Michel, "why not wait until this prince's fate is decided, -before you start yourself? I have no idea what you have to fear from him -and from your presence in Catania, father; for you have never chosen to -explain yourself clearly in that respect; but it alarms me to have you -start, all alone but for this child, for a land where you are not -certain of being well received. I know that the police officials of -absolute governments are suspicious and troublesome; and if you had -nothing worse to fear than a temporary imprisonment, even then what -would become of our little Mila, all alone in a city where you no longer -have any acquaintances? Let me go with you, in heaven's name! I will be -Mila's protector and defender, and when I see that you are comfortably -settled and in no danger, then I will return to Rome and resume my -studies, if you care to remain in Sicily." -</p> -<p> -"Yes, Michel, I know, I understand," replied Pier-Angelo. "You have no -wish to remain in Sicily, and your youthful ambition would be -ill-content with a long stay in an island which you believe to be -destitute of all resources and monuments of art. You are mistaken; we -have such noble monuments! Palermo fairly swarms with them. Ætna is the -grandest spectacle that nature can offer to a painter, and we have -painters, too. Morales filled our fatherland with masterpieces worthy to -be compared with those of Rome and Florence!" -</p> -<p> -"Excuse me, father," said Michel, smiling, "Morales is not to be -compared with Raphael, Michelangelo, or any of the masters of the -Florentine school." -</p> -<p> -"What do you know about it? That is just like children. You have never -seen his great works, his best pieces; you will see them in Sicily. And -such a climate! such skies! such fruit! A veritable land of promise!" -</p> -<p> -"Very well, father, permit me to go there with you," said Michel. "That -is precisely what I ask." -</p> -<p> -"No, no!" cried Pier-Angelo, earnestly. "I forgot myself in sounding the -praises of Catania, and I do not want you to go there with me now. I -know that your loving heart and your anxiety for us urge you to it; but -I know also that your real inclination does not lie that way. I want the -desire to come to you naturally, when the hour of your destiny has -struck, and when you will kiss the soil of your fatherland with love, -instead of treading it, as you would do to-day, with disdain." -</p> -<p> -"These reasons are of little weight, father, in view of the anxiety I -shall feel during your absence. I prefer to be bored and waste my time -in Sicily, rather than to let you go there without me and pass my time -here dreaming of dangers and disasters." -</p> -<p> -"Thanks my child, and farewell!" said the old man, embracing him -affectionately. "If I must tell you explicitly, I cannot take you. Here -is half of all the money I possess; be careful of it until I am able to -send you more. You can depend upon it that I shall not waste my time at -Catania, and that I will work energetically to procure the means for you -to continue your painting. I shall need time for the journey and to get -settled; after which I shall find plenty of work, for I had many friends -and patrons in my country, and I know that I shall find some of them -there still. Do not dream of dangers and disasters. I will be prudent; -and although duplicity and fear are not my ordinary failings, I have too -much Sicilian blood in my veins not to be able to display the cunning of -an old fox, at need. I know Ætna as well as I know my own pocket, and -its ravines are deep enough to keep a poor fellow like me hidden for a -long while. Besides, I have maintained friendly relations with my -kinsfolk, as you know. I have a brother a Capuchin, who is a <i>great -man</i>. Mila will find shelter and protection with them, if need be. I -will write to you—that is to say your sister will write for -me—as often as possible, and you shall not be left long in -uncertainty as to our fate. Do not mention the names of the Princes of -Palmarosa, unless we mention them to you first." -</p> -<p> -"And meanwhile," said Michel, "shall I not know what I have to fear or -to hope from these princes?" -</p> -<p> -"You? nothing, upon my word," replied Pier-Angelo; "but you do not know -Sicily; you would not have the prudence that is absolutely necessary in -countries that are subjected to foreigners. You have the ideas of a -young man, all the ardent ideas which circulate here in Rome, under the -cloak of lax administration, but which, in Sicily, are hidden and held -in reserve under the ashes of the volcanoes. You would compromise me, -and they would manufacture a conspiracy against the court of Naples out -of a single phrase thoughtlessly uttered by you in your fervent -liberalism. Farewell once more; do not detain me. I must see my country -once more! You have no idea what it means to me to have been born at -Catania, and to have been away eighteen years; or, rather, you do not -understand it, for it is true that you were born at Catania yourself, -and that the story of my exile is the story of yours! But you were -brought up at Rome, and you look upon Rome as your country, alas!" -</p> -<p> -A month later Michel received, by the hand of a mechanic who arrived in -Rome from Sicily, a letter from Mila, which informed him that their -journey was most successful; that they had been welcomed with open arms -by their relations and former friends; that Pier-Angelo had found work -and valuable patronage; but that the cardinal was still living, although -not greatly to be feared, because he had withdrawn from the world and -from public affairs. However, Pier-Angelo did not wish Michel to join -him, for no one knew <i>what might happen</i>. -</p> -<p> -Until then Michel had been depressed and anxious, for he loved his -father and sister dearly; but, as soon as his mind was at rest with -respect to them, he involuntarily rejoiced that he was at Rome and not -at Catania. His life there had been very pleasant since his father had -permitted him to devote himself to painting. Favored by his masters, who -were attracted to him not only because of his happy aptitude, but also -because of a certain elevation of mind and of language above his years -and his condition, received in the society of young men much richer and -more aristocratic than he—and we must admit that he was much more -accessible to their advances than to those of the sons of artisans, his -equals—he devoted his leisure to the cultivation of his brain and the -enlargement of his circle of ideas. He read rapidly and greedily, he -frequented the theatres, he conversed with artists; in a word, he -prepared himself wonderfully well for a free and noble existence, to -which, however, he was by no means certain that he could properly -aspire. -</p> -<p> -For the resources of the poor painter in distemper, who sent half of his -wages to him, were not inexhaustible. Illness might put an end to them -at any time, and painting is so serious and profound an art that one -must study many years before one can hope to make profitable use of it. -</p> -<p> -This thought terrified Michel, and sometimes cast him into the deepest -dejection. "O father!" he was saying to himself, when we met him at the -gate of a palace near his native town: "Did you not, through excessive -affection for me, do yourself as well as me a great injury, by urging me -on in the pathway of ambition? I do not know if I shall succeed, yet I -feel that it will be very hard for me to resume the life which you lead, -and for which fortune destined me. I am not so strong as you; I am a -degenerate in the matter of physical strength, which is the stamp of -nobility of our race. I cannot walk, I am fatigued beyond measure by -what would be simply healthy exercise for you, at sixty years of age. -And here am I used up, wounded in the foot, by my own fault, by reason -of my absent-mindedness or my awkwardness. And yet I was born among -these mountains, and I see children running over these sharp lava beds -as I would walk on a carpet. Yes, my father was right, this is a -beautiful fatherland; one may well be proud of having issued like the -lava, from the sides of yonder terrible mountain! But one should be -wholly, not half worthy of such a glorious origin. He should be a great -man and fill the world with peals of thunder and lightning flashes; or -else he should be a stout-hearted peasant or a determined brigand, and -live in the desert, without other resource than a carbine and a pitiless -heart. That too is a poetic destiny. But it is too late for me; I have -learned too many things, I know the laws, society and mankind too well. -That which is heroism in these artless and uncivilized mountaineers -would be cowardice and crime in me. My conscience would reproach me for -having succeeded in attaining grandeur by genius and the gifts of -civilization, and for having relapsed, from impotence, to a condition of -brigandage. So I should have to live an obscure, insignificant life!" -</p> -<p> -Let us leave Michel for a little while to nurse and rub his aching foot, -and inform the reader why, despite his love for Rome and the pleasant -days he passed there, he found himself now at the gates of Catania. -</p> -<p> -From month to month his sister had written to him, at her father's -dictation: "You cannot come yet, and we cannot make any decision -concerning our own future. The sick man is as well as a man can be who -has lost the use of his arms and his legs. But his head still lives and -retains a remnant of power. Here is some money; be careful of it, my -child; for, although I have all the work I want, wages are lower here -than at Rome." -</p> -<p> -Michel tried to be careful of the money, which represented to him the -sweat of his father's brow. He quivered with shame and dismay when his -young sister, who worked at spinning silk—a very common industry in -that part of Sicily,—secretly added a gold piece to her father's -remittance. Evidently the poor child subjected herself to great -privations to obtain for her brother the wherewithal to amuse himself -for an hour. Michel vowed that he would not touch those gold pieces, but -would save them and carry back to Mila all her little savings. -</p> -<p> -But Michel loved pleasure; he craved a certain amount of luxury, and he -did not know how to save. He had princely tastes, that is to say, he -loved to give, and rewarded handsomely any <i>facchino</i> who brought him -a picture or a letter. And then too, painting materials are very -expensive. Again, when Michel was in the company of wealthy young men, -he would have blushed not to pay his scot like the rest. So that he ran -in debt to a small amount, albeit very large for the budget of a poor -decorator. There came a time when, the debt imitating the snow-ball, it -became necessary for him either to fly in disgrace or to resign himself -to take up some more humble occupation than historical painting. -Trembling with rage and grief, Michel sacrificed the gold pieces which -he had determined to carry back to Mila some day. But, finding that he -was still far from solvent, he confessed everything in a letter to his -father, blaming himself with something very like despair. A week later a -banker forwarded to the young man the sum necessary to pay his debt, and -to live some time longer on the same footing. Then came a letter from -Mila, who said, still at Pier-Angelo's dictation: "A kind friend lent me -the money I have sent to you; but I shall have to work six months to -repay the loan. Try, my son, not to run in debt again until then, for if -you do we shall have arrears of indebtedness which we can never -discharge." -</p> -<p> -Although Michel had never been reprimanded by his father, he expected -something in the nature of a rebuke this time. When he realized the -excellent man's inexhaustible kindness and philosophic courage, he was -heartbroken, and though unable to blame himself for errors into which -his position had irresistibly led him, he did blame himself, as for a -crime, for having accepted that too brilliant position. He formed a -mighty resolution, and was assisted in carrying it out by the idea that -he was consummating a great sacrifice, and that if he had not the making -of a great painter in him, he had at all events the heroism of a great -character. Thus vanity had much to say in this effort of his will, but -it was an ingenuous and noble vanity. He paid his debts and bade his -friends farewell, announcing his purpose to abandon painting and to work -with his father at his trade. -</p> -<p> -Then, without informing his father of his coming, he packed in a bag a -few choice clothes, a sketch-book, and a number of boxes of -water-colors, not realizing that those symbols of luxury and art showed -that he carried the thought of luxury and art with him; and he started -for Catania, where we have seen him on the point of arriving. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap03"></a>III -<br><br> -MONSIGNORE -</h4> - -<p> -Despite this heroic renunciation of all the dreams of his youth, poor -Michel experienced at that moment a sort of grief-stricken dismay. The -journey had diverted his thoughts from the consequences of his -sacrifice. The sight of Ætna had exalted his imagination. The joy he -felt at the thought of seeing his excellent father and his dear little -sister had sustained his courage. But this unlucky accident of a -trifling wound in the foot, and the necessity of halting for an instant, -gave him leisure for reflection for the first time since he had left -Rome. -</p> -<p> -Moreover, that was an exceedingly solemn moment to his youthful mind. He -saw before him the domes of his native city, one of the loveliest cities -in the world, even to him who comes from Rome, and the one of all others -whose location is most imposing to the eye. -</p> -<p> -This city, so many times devastated by the volcano, is not very ancient, -and the style of the seventeenth century, which prevails in its -buildings, has not the grandeur or the pure taste of earlier periods. -Nevertheless, Catania, built upon an extensive plan and of antique -spaciousness, is of a Greek type, taken as a whole. The sombre color of -the lava from which it has risen again and again after being swallowed -up by it, as if it had found the seeds of renewed life in its own ashes, -after the manner of the phœnix, the open plain which surrounds it, and -the cruel reefs of lava which have taken root in its harbor, as if to -darken with their stern shadow even the shimmer of the -waves—everything about the city is majestic and melancholy. -</p> -<p> -But it was not the aspect of the place that engrossed the thoughts of -our young traveller. His own plight made it seem to him more gloomy and -terror-inspiring than it had been made by the passage of the flames that -belched forth from the cave of the Cyclops. He saw before him a place of -trials and of expiation, in face of which a cold perspiration burst from -every pore. It was there that he was about to bid farewell to the world -of art, to the society of enlightened men, to unchecked reveries, and to -the studious leisure of the artist summoned to an exalted destiny. It -was there that he must resume, after ten years of a highly-favored -existence, the artisan's apron, the hateful sizing-pot, the conventional -festoon, the decoration of reception rooms and corridors. And, worse -than all the rest, it was there that he would have to work twelve hours -a day and go to bed exhausted, lacking time and strength to read or muse -in a picture gallery; there that he must resign himself to do without -other society than that of the Sicilian common people, so poor and so -unclean that the poetic charm of his features and his intellect could -scarcely penetrate the rags and degradation of poverty. In a word, the -gate of Catania was, to that poor exile, the gate of the accursed city -described by Dante. -</p> -<p> -At the thought, a torrent of tears, long held in check or turned aside, -rushed from his eyes, and whoever had seen him thus, young, comely, -pale, seated outside the gate of a palace, with his hand lying -carelessly upon his injured foot, would inevitably have thought of the -gladiator of old, wounded in combat, but weeping for his defeat rather -than for the pain. -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> -<a id="figure01"></a> -<br> -<img src="images/figure01.jpg" width="300" alt="300"> -<div class="caption"> -<p><i>THE CARDINAL'S ESCORT.</i></p> -<p class="smaller"> -<i>The bells of a number of mules ascending the -hill, and the appearance of a strange caravan coming -directly toward him, forcibly changed the current of -Michelangelo Lavoratori's reflections.</i></p> -</div></div> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -The bells of a number of mules ascending the hill, and the appearance of -a strange caravan coming directly toward him, forcibly changed the -current of Michelangelo Lavoratori's reflections. The mules were superb -creatures, richly caparisoned and decorated with plumes. On their long -purple saddle-cloths gleamed the insignia of the cardinalate, the triple -cross of gold, surmounted by the little hat and tassels. They were laden -with baggage and led by servants dressed in black, with gloomy, -suspicious faces; then came abbés and other ecclesiastics, with black -short-clothes, red stockings and large silver buckles on their shoes; -some on horseback, others in litters. A very stout individual, in a -black coat, with his hair in a bag, a diamond on his finger, and a sword -at his side, rode gravely upon a magnificent ass. From his air of -importance, somewhat more candid than the crafty expressions of the -churchmen who surrounded him, he could readily be identified as his -eminence's physician. He escorted his eminence himself, who was carried -in a chair, or rather in a great box, by two powerful men, beside whom -walked four relay bearers. The whole procession consisted of about forty -persons, and the uselessness of each one of them could be measured by -the rapt meditation and humility depicted on his face. -</p> -<p> -Michel, deeply interested in the passage of this procession which -surpassed all that Rome had to offer in that direction, that was most -classic and superannuated, rose and stood near the gateway, in order to -obtain a nearer view of the principal personage's face. He was the -better able to gratify his curiosity, as the bearers halted in front of -the enormous gilded gate, while a sort of abbé, with a repulsive -countenance, dismounted and opened the gate himself with an air of -authority and a peculiar smile. -</p> -<p> -The cardinal was a man far advanced in years, who had once been -corpulent and florid, but was now pale and emaciated, as the result of -gradual and cruel decay. The skin upon his face, once tightly stretched, -now relaxed, hung in innumerable folds, and imparted to the face a -strong resemblance to a field furrowed by the passage of a torrent. -Despite these ghastly evidences of decomposition, there was a trace of -imperious beauty upon those lifeless features, which could not or would -not make the faintest movement, but amid which two great black eyes -still glowed, the last sanctuary of a stubborn vitality. -</p> -<p> -The contrast between the stern, piercing glance and the corpse-like face -impressed Michel so strongly that he could not avoid a feeling of -respect, and he instinctively bared his head before that feeble remnant -of a powerful will. Everything that indicated a forceful, imperious -nature produced its effect upon that young man's imagination, because he -was himself ambitious of power and authority, and, except for the gleam -of those tyrannical eyes, it is doubtful if it would have occurred to -him to remove his straw hat. -</p> -<p> -But, as his modest garb and his dusty shoes indicated a man of the -people rather than a great painter in embryo, the cardinal's people and -the cardinal himself naturally expected to see him kneel, which he did -not do, and his neglect scandalized them terribly. -</p> -<p> -The cardinal was the first to notice it, and as his bearers were about -to pass through the gate, he made a sign with his eyebrows which was -instantly read by his physician, who rode always beside him, and was -ordered to keep his eyes always fixed upon those of his eminence. -</p> -<p> -The doctor had just enough wit to understand from the cardinal's -expression that he wished to manifest some desire or other; so he -ordered a halt, and advised Abbé Ninfo, his eminence's secretary, the -same who had opened the gate with his own hand, and with a key taken -from his own pocket. The abbé hastened forward, as he had done before, -and placed his body in front of the door of the chair in such way as to -conceal it from the rest of the procession. Thereupon there took place -between his eminence and him a mysterious dialogue, so mysterious that -no one could say whether his eminence made himself understood by speech, -or simply by the play of his features. Ordinarily the paralytic -dignitary uttered nothing more than unintelligible grunts, which became -a frightful roar when he was angry; but Abbé Ninfo understood those -grunts so well, when assisted by his eminence's expressive glance and -his intimate knowledge of his character and designs, that he interpreted -his master's wishes and ordered them executed with an intelligence, a -rapidity and a careful attention to details which bordered on the -marvellous. Indeed it seemed altogether too supernatural to be accepted -as genuine by the other subordinate priests, and they declared that his -eminence had retained the power of speech, but that by virtue of the -most profound diplomacy, he preferred not to use that power except with -Abbé Ninfo. Doctor Recuperati asserted however that his eminence's -tongue was paralyzed as completely as his arms and legs, and that the -only living portions of his being were the organs of the brain and of -the digestion. "With those," he said, "a man may live to be a hundred -years old, aye, and shake the world, as Jupiter shook Olympus, simply by -contracting his eyebrow." -</p> -<p> -The result of the strange dialogue between Abbé Ninfo's sharp eyes and -the eloquent eyebrows of his eminence, was that the abbé turned -suddenly to Michel and motioned to him to draw near. Michel was strongly -tempted to do nothing of the sort, and to compel the abbé to walk to -him; but the Sicilian spirit suddenly awoke in him, and he stood on his -guard. He recalled all that his father had told him of the dangers to be -dreaded from the wrath of a certain cardinal, and, although he could not -tell whether the man before him was paralyzed or not, it suddenly -occurred to him that he might very well be Cardinal Hieronymo, of -Palmarosa. Thereupon he determined to dissemble, and he approached the -gilded, decorated chair adorned with his eminence's crest. -</p> -<p> -"What are you doing at this gate?" the abbé demanded in a surly tone. -"Are you of the household?" -</p> -<p> -"No, your excellency," replied Michel, with apparent tranquillity, -although he was tempted to strike his questioner. "I am passing by." -</p> -<p> -The abbé glanced into the chair, and apparently he was given to -understand that it was useless to intimidate wayfarers, for he suddenly -changed his tone and manner as he turned again to Michel. -</p> -<p> -"My friend," he said benignantly, "you seem unfortunate; are you a -mechanic?" -</p> -<p> -"Yes, your excellency," said Michel, resolved to speak as little as -possible. -</p> -<p> -"And you are fatigued? you have come a long distance?" -</p> -<p> -"Yes, your excellency." -</p> -<p> -"But you are strong for your years. How old are you?" -</p> -<p> -"Twenty-one." -</p> -<p> -Michel could safely risk that falsehood; for, although he had as yet no -beard on his chin, he had attained his full growth, and his active and -restless brain had already caused him to lose the first bloom of youth. -In this last reply he complied with a special injunction which his -father had laid upon him when they parted, and which came to his mind -most opportunely: "If you come to Sicily to join me one day or another," -said old Pier-Angelo, "remember that, until you have actually joined me, -you must not say a word of truth in reply to people who seem to you -curious and inquisitive. Tell them neither your name, nor your age, nor -your profession, nor mine, nor whence you come, nor whither you are -going. The police are more meddlesome than shrewd. Lie boldly and have -no fear." -</p> -<p> -"If my father should hear me," thought Michel, after he had thus -distinguished himself, "he would be satisfied with me." -</p> -<p> -"It is well," said the abbé, and he stepped away from the prelate's -door, so that the latter could see the poor devil who had thus attracted -his attention. Michel's eyes met the moribund's terrible glance, and he -thereupon felt more distrust and aversion than respect for that narrow -and despotic brow. Warned by an inward presentiment that he was in a -dangerous position, he changed the customary expression of his face, and -substituting sheepishness for pride therein, he bent his knee, hung his -head in order to escape the prelate's scrutiny, and pretended to await -his benediction. -</p> -<p> -"His eminence blesses you mentally," said the abbé, after consulting -the cardinal's eyes, and he motioned to the bearers to go forward. -</p> -<p> -The chair passed through the gateway and proceeded slowly along the -avenue. -</p> -<p> -"I would like well to know," thought Michel, as he looked after the -procession, "whether my instinct deceived me, or whether that man is the -enemy of my family." -</p> -<p> -He was about to continue his journey, when he observed that Abbé Ninfo -had not followed the cardinal, but was waiting until the last mule had -passed, in order to lock the gate and restore the key to his pocket. -This strange caretaking on the part of a man so close to the cardinal -was well calculated to make an impression on him, and the keen, sidelong -glance which that unattractive personage stealthily bestowed upon him -impressed him even more. -</p> -<p> -"It is evident that I am already watched in this unhappy country," he -thought; "and that my father did not dream of the enmities against which -he warned me to be on my guard." -</p> -<p> -The abbé motioned to him to come to the gate just as he withdrew the -key. Michel, persuaded that he must play his part more carefully than -ever, approached with an air of humility. -</p> -<p> -"Here, my boy," said the abbé, offering him a small coin, "here is -something with which to refresh yourself at the first tavern, for you -seem to be very much fatigued." -</p> -<p> -Michel repressed a thrill of indignation. He accepted the insult, put -out his hand and thanked the abbé humbly; then he ventured to say: -</p> -<p> -"I am grieved that his eminence did not deign to give me his blessing." -</p> -<p> -This well-acted bathos dispelled the abbe's suspicions. -</p> -<p> -"Console yourself, my child," he said, in a nonchalant tone; "Divine -Providence has been pleased to deprive our holy cardinal of the use of -his limbs. Paralysis permits him to bless the faithful only with his -mind and heart." -</p> -<p> -"May God cure and preserve him!" rejoined Michel; and he went his way, -very certain now that he was not mistaken, and that he had had a lucky -escape from a perilous meeting. -</p> -<p> -He had not taken ten steps down the hill-side when, as he turned a -corner, he found himself face to face with a man who was close upon him -before either of them recognized the other, so little did they expect to -meet at that moment. Suddenly they both cried out at once and clung -together in a passionate embrace. Michel was in his father's arms. -</p> -<p> -"O my child! my dear child! you, in this place!" cried Pier-Angelo. -"What joy and what anxiety for me! But joy carries the day and makes me -braver in spirit than I was a moment since. I was thinking of you and -saying to myself: 'It is lucky that Michel is not here, for our affairs -might well become serious.'—But here you are, and I cannot help being -the happiest of men." -</p> -<p> -"Never fear, father," Michel replied; "I became prudent as soon as I set -my foot on my native soil. I have just met our enemy face to face; he -questioned me, and I lied in a way to do your heart good." -</p> -<p> -Pier-Angelo turned pale.—"Who? who?" he exclaimed; "the cardinal?" -</p> -<p> -"Yes, the cardinal in person, the paralytic in his great gilt box. It -must be the famous Prince Hieronymo, who was the terror of my childhood, -and who seemed to me all the more terrible because I did not know the -cause of my fear. Well, dear father, I assure you that even if he still -has the will to do harm, he has not the power, for all varieties of -infirmity seem to have conspired together to crush him. I will tell you -of our interview; but tell me first of my sister, and let us go at once -and surprise her." -</p> -<p> -"No, Michel, no, the most important thing is for you to tell me how you -happened to see the cardinal so close. Let us go into this clump of -trees; I am not at all easy in my mind. Tell me, tell me quickly! He -spoke to you, you say? Is it certain that he spoke?" -</p> -<p> -"Let me reassure you, father, he cannot speak." -</p> -<p> -"Are you sure of it? You told me that he questioned you." -</p> -<p> -"I was questioned in his behalf, I suppose; but, as I observed -everything with perfect coolness, and as that caricature of an abbé who -acts as his interpreter is too thin to conceal the whole interior of the -chair, I saw plainly that his eminence spoke with his eyes only. -Moreover, his eminence is stone deaf, for when I told my age, which the -abbé asked me for some unknown reason, I saw the abbé lean toward -monsignore and hold up his ten fingers twice over, and then the thumb of -his right hand." -</p> -<p> -"Dumb, helpless, and deaf to boot! I breathe again. But how old did you -say you were? Twenty-one?" -</p> -<p> -"You told me to lie as soon as I set foot in Sicily." -</p> -<p> -"It is well, my child; Heaven aided and inspired you in that encounter." -</p> -<p> -"I think so, but I should be much more certain of it if you would tell -me how the cardinal can be interested to know whether I am eighteen or -twenty-one." -</p> -<p> -"That question cannot interest him in any way," said Pier-Angelo, with a -smile. "But I am overjoyed to find that you remembered my advice and -that you have suddenly acquired this prudence, of which I didn't believe -you to be capable. But tell me again, what did Abbé Ninfo—for it must -have been he, I am sure; was he very ugly?" -</p> -<p> -"Frightful; he squints and has a flat nose." -</p> -<p> -"That's the man! What else did he ask you? your name, or your province?" -</p> -<p> -"No, no other direct question, except as to my age, and my brilliant -reply to that seemed to satisfy him so entirely that he turned his back, -promising me his eminence's blessing." -</p> -<p> -"And his eminence didn't give it to you? he didn't raise his hand?" -</p> -<p> -"The abbé himself told me a little later that his eminence was entirely -deprived of the use of his limbs." -</p> -<p> -"What! that man spoke to you again? that fiend of hell came back to -you?" -</p> -<p> -As he spoke, Pier-Angelo scratched the back of his neck, the only spot -on his head where his restless hand could find any hair. It was a sign -with him of great perturbation of spirit. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap04"></a>IV -<br><br> -MYSTERIES -</h4> - -<p> -When Michel had told the story of his adventure to the most trivial -detail, and Pier-Angelo had admired and applauded his hypocrisy, the -young man said: -</p> -<p> -"Now, father, pray tell me how it happens that you live here, without a -mask and under your own name, without being molested, whereas I, -immediately upon my arrival, must resort to stratagem and stand on my -guard?" -</p> -<p> -Pier-Angelo seemed to hesitate a moment, then replied: -</p> -<p> -"Why, it is a very simple matter, my child! I was charged with being a -conspirator long ago; I was put in prison, and probably escaped the -gallows by flight. The formal prosecution had already been begun. That -is all forgotten, and although the cardinal must have known my name and -my face at the time, it would seem that I have changed greatly, or else -his memory is much impaired, for he has seen me here, and must have -heard my name mentioned, without recognizing me and without the faintest -indication that he recalled the old affair; that was a test which I was -resolved to make. I was summoned by Abbé Ninfo to work in the -cardinal's palace; I went there boldly, after taking measures to ensure -Mila's safety in case I should be cast into prison without process. The -cardinal saw me and did not recognize me. Abbé Ninfo knows nothing -about me; so that I am, or at all events I was, free from anxiety on my -own account, and was just about to write you to come and see me, when it -began to be rumored in the city, a few days ago, that his eminence was -visibly improved, so much so that he was going to pass some time at his -country house at Ficarazzi yonder; you can see the palace from here, on -the hillside." -</p> -<p> -"Then the villa a few steps away, where I just saw the cardinal enter, -is not his own residence?" -</p> -<p> -"No; it belongs to his niece, Princess Agatha. Doubtless he thought that -he would make a détour and call upon her as he passed; but this same -visit worries me. I know that she was not expecting it—that she had -made no preparations to receive her uncle. He must have wanted to give -her an unpleasant surprise, for he surely knows that there is no reason -whatever why she should be fond of him. I greatly fear that this is a -cloak for some wicked design. In any event, this sudden activity on the -part of a man who, for a whole year, has only moved about in a wheeled -chair up and down a gallery in his city palace, gives me food for -thought, and I say that we must pay close attention to everything now." -</p> -<p> -"But after all, father, all this does not tell me what danger there can -be for me personally! I was barely six months old, I believe, when I -left Sicily; I fancy that I was not implicated in the conspiracy in -which you were involved?" -</p> -<p> -"No, of course not; but new-comers are watched. Every man of the people, -young, intelligent and from across the strait, is assumed to be -dangerous, permeated with the new ideas. A single word from your lips, -spoken in presence of a spy, or extorted from you by an informer, would -be enough to put you in prison; and when I went to claim you as my son, -it would be vastly worse if that wicked cardinal should by any chance be -restored to health and to the exercise of power. Then he might remember -that I was accused long ago, and he would apply to us, by way of -sentence, the proverb: 'Like father, like son.' Now do you understand?" -</p> -<p> -"Yes, father, I will be prudent. Rely on me." -</p> -<p> -"That is not enough. I must be perfectly sure of the cardinal's state of -health. I do not propose to let you enter Catania until I know what to -expect." -</p> -<p> -"But what will you do to find out, father?" -</p> -<p> -"I will remain in hiding here with you until we have seen the cardinal -and his procession start for Ficarazzi. It won't be long. If it is true -that he is deaf and dumb, he will not have a long interview with his -niece. As soon as we no longer run the risk of meeting him there, we -will go to the Palmarosa palace, where I am at work now. I will conceal -you in some corner; then I will go and consult the princess." -</p> -<p> -"Is the princess in your interest, then?" -</p> -<p> -"She is my most powerful and most generous patron. She employs me a -great deal, and I hope that, thanks to her, we shall not be persecuted." -</p> -<p> -"Oh! father, was it she who gave you the money which enabled me to pay -my debts?" -</p> -<p> -"Lent it my boy, lent it. I knew well enough that you would not accept -alms, but she gives me so much work that I can pay her gradually." -</p> -<p> -"You may say: 'Soon,' father, for I am here! I have come to pay my debt -to you; my journey has no other purpose." -</p> -<p> -"What, my dear child! have you sold a picture? have you earned some -money?" -</p> -<p> -"Alas! no. I am not yet skilful enough or well enough known to earn -money. But I have arms, and I know enough to paint frescoes for -decoration. We will work together, my dear father, and I shall never -again have to blush to think that I am leading the life of an artist, -while you are wearing out your strength to gratify my misplaced tastes." -</p> -<p> -"Are you in earnest, Michel?" cried the old man. "You really mean to be -a workman?" -</p> -<p> -"I am fully determined upon it. I have sold my canvases, my engravings, -my books. I have given up my lodgings, thanked my teacher, bade farewell -to friends, to Rome, to glory. It was a little hard," added Michel, -feeling that his eyes were filling with tears; "but embrace me, father; -tell me that you are content with your son, and I shall be proud of what -I have done!" -</p> -<p> -"Embrace me, my dear boy!" replied the old decorator, pressing his son -to his heart, and blending his own tears with his. "It is a fine thing, -a noble thing that you have done, and God will reward you abundantly for -it, I promise you. I accept your sacrifice, but let us understand each -other: it is for a time only, for a time which we will make as short as -possible by working rapidly to pay our debt. The experience will be -useful to you, and your genius will grow instead of being extinguished. -Between us, thanks to the excellent princess, who will pay us well, we -shall soon have earned money enough for you to return to your real -painting, without remorse and without imposing any privation on me. That -is agreed. Now let us speak of your sister. She is a perfect prodigy of -wit, that little girl. And how she has grown and how beautiful she is! -so beautiful that it's enough to frighten a poor devil of a father like -me." -</p> -<p> -"I propose to remain a workman," said Michel, "for with a modest but -sure livelihood I can succeed in establishing my sister in life -according to her rank. Poor dear angel! Think of her sending me her -little earnings! And I, poor wretch, intended to bring them back to her -and was forced to sacrifice them! Ah! it is horrible, yes, detestable, -to try to become an artist when one has poor relations!" -</p> -<p> -"We will speak of this again, and I will find a way to revive your taste -for your destiny, my child. But, hark! I hear the gate creaking—the -cardinal is leaving the villa; let us not show ourselves; we shall soon -see them going down on our right. You say that Ninfo opened the gate -himself with a key that he had? It is very strange, and very disturbing -too, to find that the good princess is not safe in her own house, that -these people have false keys to violate her privacy unexpectedly, and -that they evidently suspect her, since they spy upon her in this way!" -</p> -<p> -"But of what can they possibly suspect her?" -</p> -<p> -"Why, suppose it were only of protecting people whom they persecute! You -assure me that you have become prudent, and in any event you will -understand the importance of what I am going to tell you. You know -already that the Palmarosas were entirely devoted to the court of -Naples; that Prince Donigi, the oldest of the family, Princess Agatha's -father, and brother of the cardinal, was the wickedest Sicilian that was -ever known, the enemy of his fatherland and the persecutor of his -compatriots; and that, too, not from cowardice, like those who go over -to the side of the conqueror, nor from greed, like those who sell -themselves; he was rich and fearless; but he did it from ambition, from -his passion for domineering, in short, from an inborn wickedness that -was in his blood and caused him to take the keenest delight in -terrifying, tormenting, and humbling his neighbor. He was omnipotent in -the time of Queen Caroline, and, until it pleased God to rid us of him, -he inflicted all the harm he possibly could upon the patriotic nobles -and the poor devils who loved their country. His brother continued that -wrong-doing; but now he is going, too; and if the dying lamp still casts -a faint gleam, it is simply a proof that it is dying. Then all the -clientage of the Palmarosas, among the people of Catania, and especially -in the suburb where we live, will be able to breathe freely. There are -no more males in the family, and all the vast property, of which the -cardinal still has the income of a large part, will fall into the hands -of a single heiress, Princess Agatha. She is as good as her relations -have been bad, and her heart is in the right place. She is Sicilian to -the marrow and detests the Neapolitans! She will have great influence -when she is entirely in control of her property and her acts. If God -would permit her to marry and take into her house some worthy nobleman -as right-minded as she, that would change the tone of the administration -somewhat, and better our lot!" -</p> -<p> -"Is the princess a young woman?" -</p> -<p> -"Yes, still young, and might marry as well as not; but she has always -refused to do it thus far, in the fear, so far as I can understand, that -she would not be free to choose for herself.—But here we are close to -the park," added Pier-Angelo; "we may meet somebody, so let us talk of -indifferent matters only. I urge you, my child, to use here nothing but -the Sicilian dialect, which we very wisely used at Rome so long. You -have not forgotten your native language, I trust, since we parted?" -</p> -<p> -"No, indeed," replied Michel. -</p> -<p> -And he began to talk Sicilian with great volubility, to convince his -father that there was nothing about him to indicate the foreigner. -</p> -<p> -"That is very good," said Pier-Angelo; "you have not the slightest -accent." -</p> -<p> -They had made a détour and entered the park by a gate at a considerable -distance from that at which Michel had encountered Monsignore Hieronymo; -the gate was open and the numerous marks on the gravel indicated that -many men, horses, and wagons habitually passed in and out. -</p> -<p> -"You will see here a great hurly-burly, most contrary to the ordinary -habits of the household," said the old painter to his son. "I will -explain it to you. But let us say nothing yet, that is the safest way. -Do not look about you too much, nor have the surprised air of a -new-comer. And, first of all, hide that travelling-bag among the rocks -near the waterfall; I shall remember the place. Rub your shoes in the -grass, so that you won't look like a traveller. Why, I believe you are -limping, are you hurt?" -</p> -<p> -"Nothing, nothing, a little fatigue." -</p> -<p> -"I am going to take you to a place where you can rest without being -disturbed by anyone." -</p> -<p> -Pier-Angelo made several détours in the park, leading his son through -shady paths, and thus they reached the palace without meeting anyone, -although they heard a great deal of noise, which increased as they drew -near. They entered a corridor on the lower floor and walked rapidly by -an enormous room, filled with workmen and materials of all sorts, -assembled there for some incomprehensible purpose. The men were so busy -and making so great an uproar that they did not notice Michel and his -father. Michel had no time to understand what he saw. His father had -instructed him to follow him step by step, and he walked so fast that -the young traveller, utterly exhausted as he was, found it difficult to -keep pace with him in the narrow halls and steep stairways. -</p> -<p> -Their journey through that labyrinth of secret passages seemed very long -to Michel. At last Pier-Angelo took a key from his pocket and opened a -small door on a dark corridor. Thereupon they found themselves in a long -gallery, adorned with statues and pictures. But the blinds were drawn -everywhere, and it was so dark that Michel could distinguish nothing. -</p> -<p> -"You can take a nap here," said his father, after he had carefully -locked the little door and removed the key; "I am going to leave you -here; I will return as soon as possible, and then I will tell you what -we are to do." -</p> -<p> -He walked the whole length of the gallery, and, raising a portière -embroidered with armorial bearings, pulled a bell-cord. In a few seconds -a voice answered inside, and a dialogue followed, in so low a tone, that -Michel could not hear a word. At last, a mysterious door was partly -opened, and Pier-Angelo disappeared, leaving his son in the darkness, -chill, and silence of that great empty room. -</p> -<p> -At times, however, the echoing voices of the men at work below, the -sound of the saw and the hammer, snatches of song, laughter, and oaths -reached his ears. But the noises gradually died away as darkness -approached, and, after two hours, the most absolute silence reigned in -that unfamiliar abode in which Michel found himself imprisoned, dying of -hunger and weariness. -</p> -<p> -Those two hours of suspense would have seemed very long to him if sleep -had not come to his aid. Although his eyes had become accustomed to the -darkness of the gallery, he made no attempt to inspect the objects of -art which it contained. He had dropped upon a rug, and fell into a sort -of lethargy, interrupted sometimes by the tumult below, and the -uneasiness which one feels when sleeping in a strange place. At last, -when nightfall was followed by the cessation of the work, he slept -soundly. -</p> -<p> -But a strange cry, which seemed to come from one of the rose-shaped -openings which supplied the gallery with ventilation, woke him abruptly. -He instinctively raised his head and fancied that he saw a faint light -on the ceiling. The figures painted thereon seemed to move for an -instant. Another cry, fainter than the first, but so peculiar that -Michel was perturbed by it and moved to the lowest depths of his being, -sounded over his head. Then the light vanished. The silence and darkness -became so intense that he wondered if he had not dreamed. -</p> -<p> -Another quarter of an hour passed, during which Michel, excited by what -had just happened, did not think of going to sleep again. He feared that -his father was in some danger which he could not define. He was -horrified at the thought that he himself was a captive and unable to -assist him. He examined all the doors and found them all securely -locked. He dared not make any noise, for, after all, it was a woman's -voice that he had heard, and he could not understand what connection -there could be between that cry and his own situation or Pier-Angelo's. -</p> -<p> -At last the mysterious door opened, and Pier-Angelo appeared, carrying a -candle whose flickering light imparted a fantastic appearance to the -statues upon which it fell one after another. When he stood beside -Michel, he said in a low voice: "We are saved; the cardinal is in his -dotage, and Abbé Ninfo knows nothing of our affairs. The princess, for -whom I was compelled to wait a long while, because she had people about -her, is of the opinion that we should make no sort of mystery about you. -She thinks that that would be worse than simply to announce your return -without any affectation. So we will go back to your sister, who is -undoubtedly anxious because I am so late. But we have quite a little -walk, and I suppose you are dying of hunger and thirst. The steward of -the household, who is very kind to me, told me to take you to a little -buttery, where we shall find something to eat." -</p> -<p> -Michel followed his father to a room which had on one side a glass door -with a curtain covering the glass outside. This room, which was in no -wise remarkable, was lighted by several candles, a fact which astonished -Michel somewhat. Pier-Angelo, observing his surprise, said that it was a -room where the princess's first lady's-maid came every night to -superintend the preparation of her mistress's supper. With that he -unceremoniously began to open cupboards and take out cold meats, -preserves, wine, fruit, and innumerable delicacies which he placed -helter-skelter on the table, laughing at each new discovery he made in -those inexhaustible cupboards—all to the unbounded amazement of -Michel, who failed to recognize his father's customary discretion and -pride. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap05"></a>V -<br><br> -THE CASINO -</h4> - -<p> -"Well," said Pier-Angelo, "don't you propose to help me? You sit there -with your arms folded and allow your father to wait on you! Do at least -take the trouble to eat and drink yourself!" -</p> -<p> -"Excuse me, dear father, you seem to me to do the honors of the house -with a self-possession which I admire, but which I should not dare to -imitate. You also seem to me to be very much at home here." -</p> -<p> -"I am more comfortable here than at home," rejoined Pier-Angelo, -nibbling at the wing of a chicken, and offering the other wing to his -son. "Don't expect me to give you such suppers often. But make the most -of this one without false shame; I told you that the majordomo -authorized me to do this." -</p> -<p> -"The majordomo is simply a higher servant who pilfers like all the -others, and invites his friends to make themselves comfortable at his -mistress's expense. Excuse me, father, but this supper is distasteful to -me; my appetite has all disappeared at the thought that we are stealing -the princess's supper; for these Japanese plates filled with delicious -sweetmeats were not intended for our mouths, nor even for that of his -highness the majordomo." -</p> -<p> -"Well, if I must tell you, that is true; but it was the princess herself -who bade me eat her supper, because she is not hungry to-night, and she -supposed that you would have some reluctance to sup with her servants." -</p> -<p> -"Your princess is extraordinarily kind," said Michel, "and shows a most -exquisite delicacy of feeling with respect to me! I confess that I -should not care to eat with her lackeys. But, father, if you do it, if -it is the custom of the house, and a necessity of my new position, I -will be no more fastidious than you, and will accustom myself to it. But -how did it ever occur to the princess to spare me that petty annoyance -to-night?" -</p> -<p> -"Because I spoke to her about you. As she is particularly interested in -me, she asked me many questions about you, and, when she learned that -you were an artist, she declared that she would treat you as an artist, -and that she would find an artist's work for you in her house, in short, -that she would show you all the consideration you could possibly -desire." -</p> -<p> -"She is a very generous and very thoughtful lady," rejoined Michel, with -a sigh, "but I will not abuse her good-nature. I should blush to be -treated as an artist, side by side with my father the artisan. No, no, I -am an artisan myself, neither more nor less. I prefer to be treated like -my fellows, and if I eat here to-night, I propose to eat to-morrow where -my father eats." -</p> -<p> -"It is well, Michel; those are noble sentiments. I drink your health! -This Syracuse wine gives me courage, and makes the cardinal seem no more -formidable than a mummy to me! But what are you looking at so intently?" -</p> -<p> -"It seems to me that that curtain behind the glass keeps moving. There -is certainly some prying servant there who doesn't like to see us eating -such a delicious supper in his place. Ah! it will be very disagreeable -to have to deal with those people all the time! They must be carefully -handled, of course, for they can do us an ill turn with their masters, -and deprive an honest artisan, who happens to offend them, of a good -customer." -</p> -<p> -"That is true, generally speaking, but there is nothing of the sort to -be feared here. I have the princess's confidence; I deal with her -directly and without any orders from the majordomo. And, then, her -servants are excellent fellows. Come, eat in peace, and don't keep -looking at that curtain, which the wind is blowing." -</p> -<p> -"I assure you, father, that it isn't the wind, unless Zephyr has a -pretty little white hand with a diamond ring on the finger." -</p> -<p> -"In that case it must be the princess's first lady's-maid. She must have -heard me tell her mistress that you were a well-favored youth, and she -is curious to see you. Sit round this way, so that she can gratify her -curiosity." -</p> -<p> -"I am much more anxious to go and see Mila, father, than to be seen by -her ladyship the first lady's-maid. I have eaten my fill; let us go." -</p> -<p> -"I will not go until I have applied once more to this excellent wine for -courage and strength. Drink with me again, Michel! I am so happy to be -with you, that I would get drunk if I had the time!" -</p> -<p> -"And I am happy too, father; but I shall be still more so when we are at -home with my sister. I do not feel so much at ease as you do in this -mysterious palace: it seems to me that I am watched, or that some one -here is afraid of me. There is a silence and solitude here which do not -seem natural to me. People do not walk and show themselves as they do in -other places. We are stealthy in our movements, and we are being -stealthily watched. Anywhere else I would break a pane of glass to see -what there is behind that curtain—and just now, in the gallery, I had -a terrible shock. I was awakened by a cry, such a cry as I never heard -before." -</p> -<p> -"A cry, really? How does it happen that I heard nothing of the sort, -although I was very near you, in the same part of the palace? You must -have dreamed it!" -</p> -<p> -"No! no! I heard it twice; a faint cry, it is true, but so vibrating, so -peculiar that my heart beats fast when I think of it." -</p> -<p> -"Ah! that is just like your romantic mind! Now I recognize you, Michel; -it delights my heart, for I was afraid that you had become too -reasonable. However, I am sorry, for the sake of your adventure, to be -obliged to tell you what I think about it, which is that her highness's -first lady's-maid must have seen a spider or a mouse as she passed -through one of the corridors that surround the great gallery of -paintings. Whenever she sees one of those creatures, she utters -frightful shrieks, and I take the liberty of laughing at her." -</p> -<p> -This prosaic explanation annoyed the young artist a little. He hurried -his father, who was inclined to forget himself over the Syracuse wine, -and half an hour later he was in his sister's arms. -</p> -<p> -The next day Michelangelo Lavoratori was installed with his father at -the Palmarosa palace, to work industriously there the rest of the week. -The work in progress was the decoration of the enormous ball-room -constructed of wood and canvas for the occasion, adjoining the peristyle -of that beautiful country-seat, and opening on the gardens on every -side. The princess, who ordinarily lived in strict retirement, was about -to give a magnificent fête, in which all the wealthy and noble -inhabitants of Catania and of the neighboring villas were to take part. -Her reason for this departure from her usual mode of life was as -follows: -</p> -<p> -Every year the first society of that neighborhood co-operated to give a -subscription ball for the benefit of the poor, and each proprietor of a -spacious house, whether in the city or the country, was supposed to lend -it in his turn, and to pay a portion of the expenses of the fête when -the circumstances would permit. -</p> -<p> -Although the princess was exceedingly charitable, her taste for -seclusion had led her to defer offering her palace; but her turn had -come at last. She had most generously assumed the whole burden of the -fête, agreeing to pay all the expenses of the ball, including the -decorations of the ball-room, music, etc. By reason of her generosity, -the sum realized for the poor promised to be quite handsome, and, as the -Villa Palmarosa was the most superb residence in the province, and all -the preparations were on a magnificent scale, the fête promised to be -the most brilliant one ever seen. -</p> -<p> -The house was full of workmen, who had been at work a fortnight on the -ball-room, under the direction of Barbagallo the majordomo, a man of -wide experience in such matters, and under the preponderating influence -of Pier-Angelo Lavoratori, whose taste and skill were already well known -and highly esteemed throughout the province. -</p> -<p> -On the first day, Michel, true to his agreement and resigned to his lot, -made garlands and arabesques with his father and the apprentices in his -employ; but his probation was confined to that day, for on the following -morning Pier-Angelo informed him that the princess wished him to -undertake the painting of allegorical figures on the ceiling and canvas -walls of the ball-room. The selection and size of the subjects was left -to his discretion; he was requested simply to make haste and to have -confidence in himself. That task did not require the care and finish of -a durable work; but it opened a wide field to his imagination, and when -he realized that he was in possession of that vast space, upon which he -was at liberty to cast his fancies without restraint, he had a moment of -genuine bliss, and he was more intoxicated than ever with his profession -of artist. -</p> -<p> -His enthusiasm for the commission was greatly increased when the -princess sent word to him, through his father, that, if his work was -simply passable, it would be accepted as full payment of the sum lent to -Pier-Angelo for him; but that, if it earned the praise of connoisseurs, -he should be paid double. -</p> -<p> -Thus Michel was on the point of becoming free in any event, and perhaps -rich for a year to come, if he displayed any talent at all. -</p> -<p> -A single apprehension, but a very weighty one, chilled his joy; the day -for the ball was fixed, and it was not in the princess's power to -postpone it. A week remained, only a week! For an experienced decorator -that was enough, but for Michel, who had never done anything of the sort -on a large scale, and who could not refrain from looking upon it as a -matter in which his self-esteem was deeply involved, it was so little -that he shuddered at the bare thought. -</p> -<p> -Luckily for him, having worked with his father in his boyhood, and -having watched him work a thousand times since, the processes of -water-color work were familiar to him, as well as the geometrical -principles of decoration; but when he attempted to select his subjects, -he was oppressed by the superabundance of his ideas, and the prodigality -of his imagination put him on the rack. He passed two nights drawing his -compositions, and all day on his scaffolding, adjusting them to the -space at his command. He did not think of sleeping or eating, or even of -improving his acquaintance with his young sister, until his work was -definitely laid out. At last it was done, and he transferred his labors -to the courtyard of an old ruined chapel in the centre of the park, -where his canvas ceiling, forty feet long, was stretched on the ground. -There, assisted by several zealous apprentices, who handed him his -colors all ready for use, and walking barefooted over his mythological -sky, he prayed to the muses to impart to his trembling hand the -necessary skill and boldness; and at last, armed with a gigantic brush, -which might fitly have been called a broom, he sketched his Olympus and -worked with so much fire and hope that the canvas was ready to be put in -place two days before the ball. -</p> -<p> -He had still to superintend its removal and installation, and to retouch -such parts as were necessarily damaged in that process. And then he also -had to assist his father, who, having been delayed by him, still had -many borders of wainscots and cornices to finish. -</p> -<p> -That week passed like a dream to Michel, and the few moments of repose -in which he indulged seemed to him delicious beyond words. The villa was -wonderfully beautiful inside as well as outside. The gardens and the -park gave one an idea of the earthly paradise. Nature is so teeming in -that country, the flowers so beautiful and sweet, the vegetation so -luxuriant, the streams so clear and swift, that art has little to do in -order to create fairyland around the palaces there. Not that blocks of -lava and vast fields of ashes do not, here and there, present the image -of desolation beside the Elysian Fields. But those horrors add to the -charm of the oases which the volcanic flames have spared. -</p> -<p> -Villa Palmarosa, situated on the slope of a hill whose rugged summit was -exposed to the ravages of Ætna, had existed for centuries amid -continual disasters which it had been privileged to contemplate -undisturbed. The palace was very old, of a graceful type of -architecture, borrowed from Saracen models. The ball-room, which now -concealed the façade of the ground-floor, presented a striking contrast -to the dark coloring and severe decorations of the upper floors. Within, -the contrast was even more striking. While all was uproar and confusion -on the ground floor, all was tranquillity, order and mystery on the -floor above, where the princess lived. At meal times Michel entered that -silent portion of the mansion, for the little room with the glass door, -where he had supped with his father on the first evening, was reserved -for him, as a special and mysterious favor. They were all alone there, -and if the curtain moved again, the movement was so slight that Michel -could not be certain that he had inspired a romantic passion in the -first lady's-maid's breast. -</p> -<p> -The palace being built against the cliff, the princess's apartments were -on a level with terraces embellished with flower-beds and fountains; and -by descending a narrow flight of steps, boldly cut in the lava, one -could reach by that means the park and the open country. Once Michel -wandered into those Babylonian flower-gardens suspended over a -terrifying abyss. He saw the windows of the princess's boudoir, which -was two hundred feet above the main entrance of the palace, and yet she -could go out of doors to walk without descending a single step. Such -boldness of conception and such charm in the construction of a dwelling -made him giddy both physically and mentally. But he never saw the queen -of that enchanted abode. At the times when he went up to her apartments -she was taking a siesta or receiving visits from her intimate friends in -the salons on the second floor. -</p> -<p> -This Sicilian custom of living on the upper floors, to enjoy the fresher -air and more perfect quiet, is found in several Italian cities. These -private apartments, generally small and quiet, are sometimes called the -<i>Casino</i>, and, with their private gardens, form, as it were, a -distinct dwelling above the main palace. This of which we are speaking -was set back from the front and side walls of the lower building by the -width of a very broad terrace, so that it was concealed, and, as it -were, isolated. At the back it formed a building of a single story, on -the level of the flower-garden, since the lower edifice was built -against the cliff. Viewing it from that side, one would have said that a -stream of lava had flowed against the palace and hardened there, and had -blotted out one whole side of it up to the level of the Casino. But the -villa had been constructed in that way to avoid danger from fresh -eruptions. Looking at it from the direction of Ætna, one would have -taken it for a small summer-house perched on top of a rock. Not until -you had made the circuit of that mass of volcanic débris did you -discover a magnificent palace, consisting of three great structures, one -upon another, and climbing the hill backward, so to speak. -</p> -<p> -Under any other circumstances Michel would have been curious to know if -this lady, who was said to be lovely and gracious, was, poetically -speaking, worthy to inhabit so noble an abode; but his imagination, -engrossed by the hurried work which had been entrusted to him, paid -little heed to other things. -</p> -<p> -He felt so fatigued when he laid aside his rough brush for an instant, -that he was compelled to fight against drowsiness in order not to -prolong his siesta beyond half an hour. Indeed, he was so afraid that -the zeal of his companions might abate, that he took that brief interval -of rest by stealth in the gallery of paintings, where his father would -lock him in, and where it seemed that no one ever set foot. Two or three -times he lacked courage to go and pass the night in the suburb of -Catania, although his house was among the first on the road from the -villa, and he consented to allow his father to procure a bed for him in -the palace. When he did return to the wretched hovel where Mila bloomed -like a rose under glass, he neither saw nor comprehended anything that -took place about him. He confined himself to kissing his sister and -telling her that he was glad to see her, but he had no time to -scrutinize her or to talk with her. -</p> -<p> -The day before the fête was a Sunday. It only remained to give a last -glance and a finishing touch to the work. He determined to dress with -some care and to stroll about the city after escorting Mila to the -evening service. He soon learned the location of the principal churches, -squares, and buildings. Lastly, his father introduced him to several of -his friends and relations, who welcomed him cordially, and with whom he -strove to be amiable. But the contrast between that environment and the -society he had frequented at Rome made him sad in spite of himself, and -he retired early, longing for the morrow; for, in presence of his work, -and under the spell of the noble edifice in which he labored, he forgot -that he was of the common people, and remembered only that he was an -artist. -</p> -<p> -At last that day of hope and dread arrived, the day on which Michel's -work was to be applauded or ridiculed by the élite of Sicilian society. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap06"></a>VI -<br><br> -THE STAIRCASE -</h4> - -<p> -"What! no farther advanced than this?" cried the majordomo, in despair, -rushing in among the workmen. "Great God! what are you thinking of? The -clock will strike seven in a moment; at eight the carriages will begin -to arrive, and half of this room is not yet draped!" -</p> -<p> -As this apostrophe was addressed to no person in particular, no one -replied, and the workmen continued to work with more or less speed, each -according to the measure of his strength and his skill. -</p> -<p> -"Room, room for the flowers!" cried the controller of that notable -branch of the establishment. "Put a hundred boxes of camellias in rows -along the benches!" -</p> -<p> -"How do you expect to arrange your boxes of flowers before the carpets -are down?" queried Master Barbagallo, with a profound sigh. -</p> -<p> -"And where do you expect me to put my boxes and flower-pots?" retorted -the head gardener. "Why haven't your upholsterers finished their work?" -</p> -<p> -"Ah! there you are! why haven't they?" said the other, in a tone of -intense indignation. -</p> -<p> -"Room! room for my ladders!" cried another voice; "the orders are that -everything must be lighted at eight o'clock sharp, and that doesn't give -me any too much time to light so many chandeliers. Room, room, I say!" -</p> -<p> -"Painters, take away your ladders," cried the upholsterers, in their -turn; "we can do nothing as long as you are in the way." -</p> -<p> -"Such confusion, such an uproar, it's a second Tower of Babel," muttered -the majordomo, wiping his brow. "I did all that I could to see that -everything was done at the proper time; I warned everyone more than a -hundred times; and here you are, all in a muddle, disputing the ground -with one another, in one another's way, and making no progress at all. -It is hopeless! it is disgusting!" -</p> -<p> -"Whose fault is it?" said the man with the flowers. "Can I put my -wreaths on bare walls and my flowerpots on rough boards?" -</p> -<p> -"And can I climb up to the ceiling," said the man with the candles, "if -my ladders are taken away to lay carpets? Do you take my men for bats, -do you want me to make thirty honest fellows break their necks?" -</p> -<p> -"How do you expect my men to lay their carpets," said the chief -upholsterer, in his turn, "if the painters don't take away their -ladders?" -</p> -<p> -"And how do you expect our ladders to be taken away if we are still on -them?" shouted one of the painters. -</p> -<p> -"The fault is all yours, you daubers!" cried the frantic majordomo; "or, -rather, your master is the only culprit," he added, noticing that the -young man whom he addressed glared fiercely at him at the epithet of -dauber. "It's that old madman of a Pier-Angelo, who is not even here to -direct you, I'll wager. Where can he be? At the nearest wineshop, I'll -stake my head!" -</p> -<p> -A voice, still full and resonant, broke forth at the highest point of -the ceiling with the refrain of an old ballad, and, on looking up, the -wrathful majordomo saw the glistening bald head of the -decorator-in-chief. Evidently the old man was laughing at the majordomo, -and, being master of the field, proposed to put the finishing touches to -his work at his leisure. -</p> -<p> -"Pier-Angelo, my friend," said the other, "you are making sport of us! -That is too bad of you. You act like an old spoiled child, as you are; -but we shall lose patience at last. This is no time to laugh and sing -your drinking-songs." -</p> -<p> -Pier-Angelo did not deign to reply; he simply shrugged his shoulders as -he talked with his son, who was even higher up than he, shading the -dress of a dancing-girl of Herculaneum, who swam in a blue canvas sky. -</p> -<p> -"There are enough figures, enough folds and shading!" cried the -majordomo, beside himself. "Who in the devil will ever look up there, to -see if there's anything wrong with your divinities in the firmament? The -general effect is there, and that's all that is necessary. Come, come -down, you old fox, or I'll shake the ladder you are standing on." -</p> -<p> -"If you touch my father's ladder," exclaimed young Michel, in a voice of -thunder, "I will crush you with this chandelier. No jests of that sort, -Signor Barbagallo, or you will be sorry for them." -</p> -<p> -"Let him talk, and go on with your work," said old Pier-Angelo, calmly. -"Disputing takes time; don't waste your breath in empty words." -</p> -<p> -"Go down, father, go down," said the young man. "I am afraid that in -this confusion they may give you a fall; I shall finish in a moment. Go -down, I entreat you, if you expect me to retain my presence of mind." -</p> -<p> -Pier-Angelo descended the ladder slowly; not that he had lost, at sixty -years of age, the strength and agility of youth, but in order to make -the time that his son required to complete his work seem less long. -</p> -<p> -"What folly, what trifling!" said the majordomo to the old man. "You -work over these temporary canvases as if they were to be exhibited in a -museum, whereas they will be rolled up and stored in a garret to-morrow, -and will have to be covered with different figures for the next fête! -Who will thank you for it? Who will pay the slightest attention to -them?" -</p> -<p> -"Not you; everybody knows that," retorted the young painter, -contemptuously, from the top of his ladder. -</p> -<p> -"Hush, Michel, and attend to your work," said his father. "Everyone -takes pride in doing the best he can," he added, looking at the steward. -"There are some who take pride in claiming the credit of all our labors! -Come! the upholsterers may begin. Give me a hammer and some nails, you -fellows! As I have delayed you, it's no more than fair that I should -help you." -</p> -<p> -"Always a good comrade!" said one of the upholsterers, handing the old -painter some tools. "Come, Master Pier-Angelo, let art and trade lend -each other a hand! One must be mad to get into trouble with you." -</p> -<p> -"Oh! yes," grumbled Barbagallo, who, contrary to his customary reserved -and courteous habit, was in a savage humor that evening; "that's the way -everybody pays court to the obstinate old fool, and he doesn't care a -fig how much trouble he makes for others." -</p> -<p> -"Instead of grumbling, you ought to help at the nailing, or by lighting -the candles," said Pier-Angelo, with a mocking air. "But, psha I you are -afraid you might spoil your satin breeches and tear your ruffles." -</p> -<p> -"Master Pier-Angelo, you are altogether too familiar, and I swear that I -will never employ you after to-day." -</p> -<p> -"God grant it!" retorted the other with his accustomed phlegm, -accompanying himself with sturdy, measured blows of the hammer upon the -nails which he drove in quick succession; "but, on the very next -occasion, you will come and implore me, and say that nothing can be done -without me; and I, as usual, shall forgive your impertinence." -</p> -<p> -"Well!" said the majordomo to Michel, as he came slowly down his ladder, -"is it done at last? That is very fortunate! Quick! quick! help the -upholsterers, or the gardeners, or the lamplighters. Do something to -make up for lost time." -</p> -<p> -Michel eyed the majordomo with a haughty air. He had so entirely -forgotten even the idea of becoming a mere workman, that he could not -imagine how that subordinate could venture to order him to take part in -tasks unconnected with his special duties; but, just as he was about to -make a sharp retort, he heard his father's voice calling him. -</p> -<p> -"Come, Michel, bring us some nails here, and help these good fellows, -who won't finish in time without us." -</p> -<p> -"Nothing can be fairer," the young man replied. "I may not be very -skilful at that work, but I have good strong arms for stretching. Come, -what must I do? Tell me, you fellows!" -</p> -<p> -"Good!" exclaimed Magnani, a young journeyman upholsterer, outspoken and -full of animation, who lived next door to the Lavoratori family in the -suburb. "Be a good comrade like your father, whom everybody loves, and -you will be loved as he is. We have been told that, because you had -studied painting at Rome, you were inclined to be a little conceited, -and you certainly do go about the city in a coat that is hardly fitted -for an artisan. You have a very pleasing face, to be sure, but people -blame you for being ambitious." -</p> -<p> -"Where would be the harm?" rejoined Michel, working industriously beside -Magnani. "Who is not entitled to be ambitious?" -</p> -<p> -"I like the frankness of your reply, but every man who wishes to be -admired should begin by winning affection." -</p> -<p> -"Am I hated, pray, in this country, where I have just arrived, and where -I know no one as yet?" -</p> -<p> -"It is your own country; you were born here, your family is well known -here, and your father highly esteemed; and the very reason that -everybody has their eyes fixed on you is that you have just arrived. -People think you a comely fellow, well dressed and well built. So far as -I am able to judge, you have talent, the figures you have sketched and -colored up yonder are not mere vulgar daubs. Your father is proud of -you, but that is no reason why you should be proud of yourself. You are -still a child, you are several years younger than I; you have almost no -beard on your chin; you have never had an opportunity to furnish proofs -of courage and virtue. When you have suffered a little because of the -hardships of your condition in life, without complaining, then we will -forgive you for carrying your head high and swaying from your hips up as -you cross the street, with your cap over one ear. Otherwise we shall -tell you that you are trying to impose on us, and that if you are not an -artisan, but an artist, you had better ride in a carriage and not look -the young men of your own rank in the face; for, you see, your father is -a workman like us; he has talent in his line, and it may be more -difficult to paint flowers, fruit, and birds on a cornice than to hang -draperies at a window and arrange colors to harmonize in furnishing a -room. But the difference isn't so great that we are not cousins-german -in trade. I do not think that I am any better than the carpenter or -mason; why do you think yourself above me?" -</p> -<p> -"I have no such thought," Michel replied; "God preserve me from it!" -</p> -<p> -"In that case, why didn't you come to our artisans' ball last night? I -know that your cousin Vincenzo wanted to bring you, and you refused." -</p> -<p> -"Do not form a bad opinion of me for that, my friend; it may be that I -am of a melancholy and unsociable temperament." -</p> -<p> -"I don't believe it. Your face says the contrary. Forgive me for -speaking to you without ceremony; it is because I like you that I -reproach you in this way. But our carpet is all nailed here; we must go -somewhere else." -</p> -<p> -"Two or three of you to each chandelier!" cried the head lamplighter to -his men; "you will never finish if you scatter so!" -</p> -<p> -"I say! I am all alone!" cried Visconti, one of the lighters, a stout -fellow and fond of the bottle, who, having a little wine in his brain -already, did not hold the lighted match within two inches of the candle. -Michel, impressed by the lesson Magnani had given him, placed a stool -under the chandelier and attempted to assist Visconti. -</p> -<p> -"Ah! that is right!" said the latter; "Master Michel's a good fellow, -and he will have his reward. The princess pays well, and moreover she -wants everybody to enjoy themselves in her house on fête days. There -will be a supper for us after the dessert of the nobility's supper, and -there'll be no lack of good wine. I have already had a little on account -as I passed through the pantry." -</p> -<p> -"And so you are burning your fingers!" said Michel, with a smile. -</p> -<p> -"Perhaps your hand won't be as steady as it is now, two or three hours -later," retorted Visconti; "for you will come to supper with us, won't -you, young man? Your father will sing us his old ballads, which are -always good for a laugh. There'll be more than a hundred of us at table -at once! Ah! what a lark we will have!" -</p> -<p> -"Make room, make room!" cried a tall footman, with gold lace on all the -seams of his livery; "the princess is coming to see if everything is -ready. Make haste, stand aside! Don't shake the carpets so hard, you -raise a dust. I say! you lighters up there, don't drop the wax so! take -away your tools, make a passage!" -</p> -<p> -"Well," said the majordomo, "now you will hold your peace, I trust, you -workmen! Come, make haste; if you are late, at least act as if you were -hurrying. I won't be responsible for the rebuke you are going to -receive. I am very sorry for you. But it's your own fault; I can't -justify you. Ah! Master Pier-Angelo, this time you have no excuse for -coming to beg for compliments." -</p> -<p> -These words reached young Michel's ears, and all his pride reawoke in -his heart. The idea that his father could <i>beg for</i> compliments and -receive reproaches was intolerable to him. If he had not as yet been -able to see the princess, he could fairly say that he had made no -attempt to see her. He was not one of those who run eagerly at the heels -of a wealthy and powerful person, to feast that person's eyes with the -spectacle of puerile and servile admiration. But this time he stooped as -he stood on the stool, seeking with his eyes that haughty personage who, -according to Master Barbagallo, would in a moment humiliate an -assemblage of intelligent and willing mechanics with a gesture or a -word. He remained in that position, considerably above the level of the -crowd, in order to see better, but all ready to jump down, rush to his -old father's side, and answer for him if, in a spasm of too great -affability, the heedless old man should allow himself to be insulted. -</p> -<p> -The vast apartment which they were hastening to complete was nothing -more than an immense garden terrace, covered on the outside with such a -wilderness of foliage, garlands and streamers, that one might have taken -it for an enormous bower after the style of Watteau. Within, movable -floors had been laid on the gravel. Three great marble fountains, -decorated with mythological characters, were not at all in the way in -that extemporized ball-room, but formed its most beautiful decoration. -There was sufficient room to promenade and to dance between those -graceful piles. They discharged their jets of limpid water into -veritable thickets of flowers, beneath the resplendent glare of the -great chandeliers, which spangled them with sparks of light. Benches, -arranged as in an ancient amphitheatre, dotted with rose-bushes here and -there, provided numerous seats for the guests and did not impede the -circulation. -</p> -<p> -The ceiling was so high that the main stairway of the palace, an -admirable piece of architecture, adorned with antique statues and jasper -urns of the most beautiful patterns, was wholly within the ball-room. -The white marble stairs were newly covered with a purple carpet, and the -lackeys who preceded the princess having swept back the crowd of -workmen, there was a solemn void about the foot of the staircase. -Everybody instinctively held his peace in anticipation of a majestic -spectacle. -</p> -<p> -The workmen, impelled by a feeling of curiosity, ingenuous and -respectful in some, mocking and indifferent in others, all fixed their -eyes on the great carved doors at the top of the staircase. Michel felt -that his heart was beating fast, but it was with anger no less than with -impatience. "Who in God's name are these nobles and wealthy mortals," he -said to himself, "that they walk so proudly over the altars and -platforms that our degraded hands construct for them? A goddess of -Olympus would hardly be worthy to appear in such state, at the summit of -such a temple, to the base mortals prostrate at her feet! Oh! insolence, -falsehood and mockery! It may be that the woman who is about to come -forth before my eyes is a woman of narrow mind, of ordinary parts; and -yet all these bold, strong men, uncover at her approach!" -</p> -<p> -Michel had asked his father very few questions concerning Princess -Agatha's tastes and character; and even those few questions Pier-Angelo -had answered, especially of late, in an absent-minded way, as his custom -was when anyone introduced a subject foreign to the train of thought -induced by his work. But Michel was proud, and the thought that he was -about to be brought face to face with some one prouder than himself -aroused a feeling of anger and something like hatred in his heart. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap07"></a>VII -<br><br> -A GLANCE -</h4> - -<p> -When the Princess of Palmarosa appeared at the top of the stairs, Michel -thought that he saw before him a girl of fifteen, she was so lithe and -slender in figure and in attitude; but, at each stair that she -descended, he discovered an additional year upon her brow; and when he -saw her near at hand, he concluded that she was about thirty. That did -not prevent her from being beautiful; not resplendent and superb, but -pure and sweet, like the bunch of white cyclamen she carried in her -hand. She had a reputation for grace and charm rather than for beauty; -for she had never been a coquette, and did not seek to create a -sensation. Many much less beautiful women had kindled passions because -they had chosen so to do. Princess Agatha had never furnished food for -gossip, and if there had ever been any profound emotion in her life, -society had never had any positive knowledge of it. -</p> -<p> -She was very charitable, indeed, it might be said that her only -occupation was the distribution of alms; but it was done without parade -or ostentation, and she was not called the mother of the poor. In a -majority of cases the people whom she assisted did not know the source -of the assistance they received. She was not a very regular attendant at -church, although she did not avoid religious services. She had artistic -tastes, and surrounded herself most discerningly with the most beautiful -objects and the noblest minds. But she did not shine in the centre of -her social system, nor did she make a pedestal of her connections or her -wealth. In everything it seemed that she preferred to do as all the -world did, and that, whether from apathy, from good taste, or from -inward timidity, she had made it an object in life never to attract -notice. There never was a more inoffensive woman. People esteemed her, -loved her without enthusiasm, appreciated her worth without jealousy. -But was she appreciated at her true worth? That is something that it -would have been difficult to say. She was not supposed to have a great -intellect. The highest praise that her oldest friends bestowed upon her -was to say that she was an absolutely reliable person and of a very even -disposition. -</p> -<p> -All this could be readily seen in the first glance that one cast upon -her, and young Michel, as he watched her descend the staircase with -careless grace, felt his aversion vanish with his dread. It was -impossible to retain a feeling of irritation in presence of so pure, and -calm, and sweet a face. But, as he had prepared, in his anger, to defy -the awe-inspiring glance of a domineering and splendid beauty, he felt -as if his mind were relieved of a great weight when he saw an ordinary -woman. He had an instinctive feeling that, even if she came to scold, -she would have neither the energy, nor, perhaps, the spirit to be -insulting. His heart became calmer, and he gazed at her with increasing -tranquillity, as if the refreshing fluid emanating from a serene mind -had found its way from her to him. -</p> -<p> -She was richly but simply dressed in a heavy silk gown of a dull milky -white, without ornament. A small circle of diamonds embellished her -glossy black hair, parted in bands over a smooth, pure forehead. -Doubtless she could have worn richer jewels, but her coronet was a work -of art of most excellent workmanship, and did not weary her small, -admirably poised head with a dragging weight. Her shoulders, half bare, -had lost the interesting thinness of early youth, and had not yet -attained the luxuriant rotundity of the third or fourth youth. There -were still some delicate lines in her figure, and in her every movement -a careless suppleness, which seemed to be unaware of its own existence -and to pose for no one. -</p> -<p> -With the end of her fan she slowly waved aside the footman and the -majordomo, who were exerting themselves to make room for her, and passed -before them, stepping easily and without awkward haste over the boards -and rolls of carpet which still lay in her path; and with a sort of -heedlessness, humble or lordly, as you please, allowing the long folds -of her beautiful white silk dress to drag in the dust left by the feet -of the mechanics. With no sign of repugnance, perhaps without observing -them, she brushed against the perspiring workmen, who could not step -aside quickly enough. She passed through a group of gardeners, who were -moving huge boxes, and did not seem to notice or to be disturbed by the -danger of being crushed or wounded. She returned the salutations of -those who saluted her, without the slightest assumption of superiority -or patronage, and when she was in the midst of the swarm of men, boards, -ladders, and canvas, she halted very calmly, looked about to see what -was finished and what was not, and said in a mild and encouraging voice: -</p> -<p> -"Well, <i>gentlemen</i>, do you hope to have everything finished in time? -We have barely half an hour." -</p> -<p> -"I will answer for everything, my dear princess," replied Pier-Angelo, -approaching her with a cheerful air; "don't you see that I am putting my -hand to everything?" -</p> -<p> -"In that case, I have no fear," said she, "and I rely also upon -everybody here. It would be a pity to leave such a beautiful piece of -work unfinished. I am exceedingly pleased. It is all conceived with -taste and executed with great care. I thank you very much for the pains -you have taken to do the work well, <i>gentlemen</i>, and this fête will -redound to your glory." -</p> -<p> -"My son Michel will have his share in it, I trust," rejoined the old -decorator; "will your ladyship deign to permit me to present him to you? -Come, Michel, come and kiss the princess's hand, my son; she is a kind -princess, you see!" -</p> -<p> -Michel did not move a muscle to approach them. Although the way in which -the princess had <i>scolded</i> his father had touched him and won his -heart, he was by no means inclined to humble himself before her. He was -well aware that the Italian custom of kissing a lady's hand denotes either -the respectful homage of a friend or the prostration of an inferior, -and, having no right to claim the former title, he did not choose to -descend to the other. He removed his velvet cap and stood erect, -affecting to look the princess in the face with perfect self-possession. -</p> -<p> -Thereupon she fixed her eyes upon him, and, whether because her features -wore an expression of kindness and cordiality in contrast to the -careless good-nature of her manners, or because Michel was assailed by a -strange hallucination, he was stirred to the lowest depths of his being -by that unexpected glance. It seemed to him that a searching flame, -intense and penetrating, entered his very soul from the great lady's -soft eyes; that an ineffable affection, coming forth from that unknown -heart, had taken possession of his whole being; in short, that the -Princess Agatha said to him in language more eloquent than any human -words: "Come to my arms, come to my heart!" -</p> -<p> -Michel, bewildered, fascinated, beside himself, shuddered, turned pale, -approached with an involuntary, convulsive movement, tremblingly took -the princess's hand, and, as he was about to put it to his lips, raised -his eyes once more to hers, thinking that he had been mistaken, and that -he could in that way put an end to a dream that was at once painful and -delicious. But those pure and limpid eyes expressed a love so absolute -and so trustful that he lost his head, felt that his senses were leaving -him, and fell as if crushed at the signora's feet. -</p> -<p> -When he recovered his presence of mind, the princess was already several -steps away. She walked on, followed by Pier-Angelo, and when they were -alone at the farther end of the room, they seemed to be discussing some -detail of the fête. Michel was ashamed; his emotion rapidly vanished in -face of the thought that he had presented to all his companions a -spectacle of incredible weakness and presumption; but, as the princess's -kind words had electrified them all, and as they had all resumed their -labor with a sort of joyful frenzy, they sang and hammered, and bustled -about him, and his adventure was a mere incident, lost, or at least not -understood, in the crowd. Some had noticed, with a smile, that he bowed -lower than he needed to do, and that it was apparently an aristocratic -and gallant habit which he had brought from abroad with his haughty air -and his fine clothes. Others thought that he had stumbled over a board -when he was about to bow, and that his awkwardness had caused his -confusion. -</p> -<p> -Magnani alone had watched him closely and half guessed the truth. -</p> -<p> -"Michel," he said, after a few moments, when their work had brought them -together once more, "you seem very timid, but I believe that you are -insanely bold. It is certain that the princess thought you a handsome -fellow, and that she looked at you in a certain way which might have -meant something very different on the part of any other woman; but do -not be too presumptuous, my boy; this excellent princess is a virtuous -lady; she has never been known to have a lover, and if she chose to take -one, it isn't at all likely that she would begin with a little painter -in distemper, when so many illustrious noblemen ——" -</p> -<p> -"Hush, Magnani," said Michel, vehemently; "your jests wound me, and I -have never given you the right to laugh at me in this way; I won't -endure it." -</p> -<p> -"Come, no temper," rejoined the young journeyman; "I have no intention -of offending you, and when a man has arms like mine, he would be a -coward to insult a boy like you. Besides, I am not naturally unkind, and -as I told you before, if I speak frankly to you, it is because I am -inclined to like you. I feel that you have a mind superior to mine, -which attracts and charms me. But I also feel that you have a weak -character and a wild imagination. If you have more intelligence and more -refinement, I have more common sense and experience. Do not take my -reflections in bad part. You have no friends among us as yet, and you -could already reckon more than one enmity prepared to break out, if you -should incline to see what is going on around you. I may be able to be -of service to you in some way, and if you listen to my warning, you will -avoid many vexations which you do not foresee. Come, Michel, do you -scorn me, and reject my friendship?" -</p> -<p> -"On the contrary, I request it," replied Michel, moved and completely -conquered by Magnani's frankness; "and I propose to show myself worthy -of it by justifying myself. I know nothing, I believe nothing, I think -nothing of the princess. For the first time in my life I see so great a -lady at close quarters, and ——. But why do you smile?" -</p> -<p> -"You stop to ask about my smile to avoid finishing your sentence. I will -finish it for you. You find that a great lady is something divine, and -you fall madly in love with her. You love grandeur! I understood that -perfectly the first time I saw you." -</p> -<p> -"No, no!" cried Michel, "I have not fallen in love; I do not know this -woman, and, as for her grandeur, I do not know in what it consists. You -might as well say that I am in love with her palace, her dress, or her -diamonds, for thus far I have seen no other signs of superiority, except -excellent taste, in which we assist her materially, it seems to me, as -well as her jeweller and her dressmaker." -</p> -<p> -"As you know nothing more of her, that is well said," rejoined Magnani; -"but in that case will you explain to me why you nearly fainted when you -kissed her hand?" -</p> -<p> -"Do you explain it to me, if you can; for my part, I have no idea. I -knew that ladies had a way of using their eyes which was bolder than -that of a courtesan, and at the same time more contemptuous than that of -a nun. Yes, I had noticed that; and that blending of seduction and pride -drove me wild when I happened, against my will, to touch elbows with any -of them in a crowd. And that is why I hated great ladies. But this one -has a glance which resembles no other woman's. I could not undertake to -say whether it is voluptuous languor or good-humored torpor; but no -woman ever looked at me so, and —— what can you expect, -Magnani? I am young and impressionable, and it gave me the vertigo; that -is all. I am not intoxicated with vanity, I swear, for I am perfectly -certain that she would have looked at you in the same way if chance had -placed your face before her instead of mine." -</p> -<p> -"I don't believe it," replied Magnani, pensively. -</p> -<p> -He had dropped his hammer and seated himself on a bench. He seemed to be -struggling painfully to solve a problem. -</p> -<p> -"Ah! young men!" exclaimed old Pier-Angelo, as he passed them; "you are -chattering and not working; only the old men know how to work fast." -</p> -<p> -Touched by the rebuke, Michel hastened to assist his father, after -whispering to his new friend that they would resume their conversation -later. -</p> -<p> -"Your best course," said Magnani, in an undertone, with a strange -expression, "will be to think as little as possible about it." -</p> -<p> -Michel loved his father fervently, and with good reason. Pier-Angelo was -a man of spirit, of courage, and of sound sense. An artist in his way, -he followed the good old traditions in his work, and was not irritated -by the innovations that he saw all about him. On the contrary, he very -quickly assimilated such progressive ideas as he was made to understand. -He was an easy-going, jovial mortal, optimistic in general, tolerant in -particular cases, almost never ascribing evil intentions, but never -paltering with them when it was no longer possible for him to entertain -his generous illusions. A straightforward, simple, unselfish soul, -content with little, entertained by everything, loving work for himself, -and money for others, that is to say, living from day to day, and unable -to deny his neighbor anything. -</p> -<p> -Providence had given the impulsive Michel the only guide he could ever -have accepted; for that young man was entirely different from his father -in several respects. He was restless, suspicious, slightly egotistical, -with a decided tendency toward ambition, instability and anger. And yet -his also was a noble nature, because it was sincerely in love with the -noble and the great, and surrendered enthusiastically when its -confidence was justified. But it is beyond question that his temperament -was less happy than it might have been, that his active and inquisitive -intellect often fed upon itself; and that his sensitive and excitable -mind sometimes made a desperate onslaught on the tranquillity of his -heart. -</p> -<p> -If a rough hand, the heavy hand of a mechanic desperately bent upon -money-making, or subject to all the jealous indignation peculiar to the -republican spirit, had undertaken to mould young Michel's mobile nature -and discontented mind, it would have driven them to exasperation and -would speedily have shattered or destroyed them. The improvident and -cheerful temper of Pier-Angelo had acted as a counterpoise and sedative -upon his passionate instincts. He rarely talked the language of cold -reason to him, and never thwarted his fickle inclinations. But the -fearless heedlessness of certain natures has a sympathetic effect which -makes us blush for our weaknesses, and acts upon us more powerfully by -example, by precepts nobly and simply put in execution, than all the -speeches and sermons in the world could do. It was by this means that -Pier-Angelo, while seeming to accede to Michel's desires and caprices, -still exerted the only ascendancy to which he could have been induced to -submit. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap08"></a>VIII -<br><br> -THE INTRUDER -</h4> - -<p> -Once more, when he saw his father doing the work of two, Michel was -ashamed of his absent-mindedness, and hastened to assist him. There was -still a temporary staircase to be erected at one side of the ball-room, -to communicate with a gallery on the floor above, and afford the -anticipated crowd an additional artery of circulation. -</p> -<p> -They could already hear numerous carriages rumbling in the distance over -that magnificent street which is proudly called the <i>Ætnean Road</i>, and -which passes through Catania in a straight line, from the water's edge -to the foot of Ætna; as if, to quote a traveller, "the people who had -erected their superb palaces along that road had intended to afford the -angry volcano a way befitting its majesty." -</p> -<p> -At critical moments, when the time is too short, when the hours seem -rather to gallop than to walk, when human forces are at odds with the -impossible in some feverish toil, very few men are endowed with -sufficient strength of will to retain the hope of triumphing at last. At -such moments it is simply a matter of quadrupling one's own faculties -and performing a miracle. Most of the workmen were utterly discouraged -and proposed to abandon that temporary structure and to conceal the -opening with flowers and pictures; in short, to inflict upon the -organizers of the fête the unpleasant surprise of a departure from -their plans. Pier-Angelo revived the courage of those who seemed -well-disposed, and set to work. Michel performed prodigies in the way of -assisting them; and in ten minutes, the task which it was said would -take two hours was completed as if by magic. -</p> -<p> -"Michel," then said the old man, wiping his head, which was bald to the -base of the skull, "I am satisfied with you, and I see that you are a -good workman; which, in my eyes, is an indispensable qualification for -any man who wishes to become a great artist. Everyone cannot work fast, -and most of those who make haste do bad work. We must not despise them -for that. In the ordinary course of affairs all work requires coolness, -calculation, orderly management, foresight, in short, common -sense—yes, even in loading a cart with stones, there are a -thousand ways of going about it and only one right way. One man will -take too many on his shovel, another not enough; one lifts his arm too -high and throws the stones over the cart, another doesn't lift it high -enough and throws them among the wheels. Have you never compared one -thing with another and reflected, as you watched the simple work of the -fields? Have you seen men digging? In that, as in everything else, there -is one good workman to twenty bunglers. And who can say that the man who -does as much work with the spade as four others, without tiring himself -out and without losing a second, is not a superior man, who would do -more difficult things admirably? Tell me, what do you think about it? -For my part, I have always had that thought in my mind, and by watching -the girls picking strawberries on the mountain, I can pick out the one -who will best manage her house and bring up her children someday. Do you -think I am talking nonsense? Answer me." -</p> -<p> -"I think that you are right, father," Michel replied, with a smile; "to -work quickly and well, one must combine presence of mind with an ardent -will; he must have fever in his blood and a clear head. He must be able -to think and act simultaneously. No, that power certainly is not given -to everyone; and it is a painful thing to see so many feeble and -incompetent organizations in proportion to the small number of placid -and powerful ones. Alas! I am alarmed for myself, notwithstanding the -praise you have just given me, for I rarely feel in that powerful and -productive humor, and if I was in that humor just now, I owe it to your -example." -</p> -<p> -"No, no, Michel, no example is of any use to the impotent. Poor -creatures! they do what they can, and that is an excellent reason why -those who are stronger and more capable should make it their duty to -relieve them. Do you not feel glad and proud to have done it?" -</p> -<p> -"You are right, father! you can find the noble and praiseworthy aspect -of my instincts better than I can myself. Ah! Pier-Angelo, you do not -know how to read, and you have had me taught a thousand things that you -do not know. And yet you are the light of my mind, and, at every step I -take, I feel that you are helping to open a blind man's eyes." -</p> -<p> -"That is well said!" cried honest Pier-Angelo, with artless joy. "I wish -that could be written down. It reminded me of when the actors recite -noble sentences on the stage. Let us see, how did you say it? repeat it -for me. You called me by my name, as if I were not here, and you were -thinking aloud of your old friend. Oh! I love fine words, that I do! -<i>Pier-Angelo, you do not know how to write</i>—you began so. And -then you compared yourself to a blind man whose light I was—I, a -poor ignorant fellow, whose heart sees clear for you, Michel, none the -less. I wish I could write poetry in pure Tuscan; but I only know how to -improvise in my Sicilian dialect, in which, provided you rhyme in -<i>i</i> and <i>u</i> you can always succeed in producing something that -resembles poetry. If I could I would write a beautiful ballad about the -love and modesty of a son who attributes to his old simpleton of a -father all that he discovers about himself; a ballad! there is nothing -in the world more perfect than a good ballad. I know a great many of -them, but there are very few with which I am perfectly satisfied. I -would like to be able to supply something that is lacking in them all. -That reminds me that I shall have to sing to-night at supper. Hum! after -swallowing such a lot of dust! but there will be plenty of good wine for -the workmen to drink. Don't you mean to come? Evidently you don't like -to drink with everybody. Perhaps you are right. They say that you are -proud; but, on the other hand, you are sober and dignified. You must do -what suits you. After all, it's of no use for you to talk, you will -never be a simple mechanic like me, whatever you may do. You help me at -my work now, and that is well done. But once our little debts are paid, -you will return to Rome, for I propose that you shall continue the noble -studies that attract you so." -</p> -<p> -"Ah! father, every word you say goes to my heart. Our little debts! it -was I who contracted them, not only for useful studies, but for foolish -diversions and insane, childish vanities. And when I think that each -year I pass at Rome costs you the whole avails of your toil!" -</p> -<p> -"Even so! for whom should I earn money, if not for my son?" -</p> -<p> -"But you rob yourself!" -</p> -<p> -"Of nothing at all. I find friendship and confidence wherever I am -employed; and except a little good wine, which is an old man's milk, and -which is neither scarce nor dear in our blessed climate, thank God! I -need nothing. What does a man of my age require? Must I think of the -future? Your sister is industrious; she will find a good husband. Is not -my present lot what my lot will be to my last hour? There is nothing new -for me to learn which I can put to any use. Why should I hoard money? to -hoard it for your maturer years would be absurd; it would simply be -depriving your youth of the means of developing and making sure of the -future." -</p> -<p> -"Alas! it is the thought of your future that terrifies me, father! An -old man's future is loss of strength, infirmity, neglect, destitution! -And suppose all your sacrifices were wasted! Suppose I should prove to -be devoid of virtue, intelligence, courage, talent! Suppose I should not -succeed in making my fortune, in finding a good husband for my sister, -and in assuring your comfort and security in your old age!" -</p> -<p> -"Nonsense! nonsense! it is insulting Providence to doubt yourself when -you are conscious of being disposed to do what is right. Besides, let us -put everything in the worst light, and you will see that nothing is -lost. I will assume that you are simply an ordinary artist; you will -still earn your living, and as you do not lack wit, you will know how to -be contented with such pleasures as are within your reach. You will do -like me, who, although I have never been rich, have never considered -myself poor, because my wants have never exceeded my resources. That is -a philosophy with which you are not familiar as yet, because you are at -the age of expansive desires and expansive hopes; but it will come to -you if your plans fail. Mind you, I do not admit that they can fail. -That is why I do not preach moderation to you now. Power is still -better. The man who aims true at the ring with his lance is drunk with -joy. He carries off the prize, and congratulates himself on having had -the courage to compete. But he who has broken several lances with no -result goes away saying: 'My luck is bad; I will not try again.' And he -too is pleased that he has profited by experience and has had the -courage to read himself a salutary lesson. But the evening breeze dries -the perspiration on my old forehead a little too quickly; I am going to -the pantry to eat and drink. As there is nothing more for you to do -here, you may as well get our tools together and go home." -</p> -<p> -"And when will you come home, father?" -</p> -<p> -"Ah! Michel, I don't know when or how! it will depend on how much I -enjoy the supper. You know that I am very sober, generally speaking, and -drink only to quench my thirst; but if they lead me on to laugh and -sing, and chatter, I get excited and have paroxysms of merriment and -poetic enthusiasm which carry me off to the moon; and then it's of no -use to talk to me about going to bed. Don't be anxious about me. I shall -not fall down in a corner, I am not a beastly sot; my drunkenness is -that of brilliant minds, on the contrary, and I never act more -reasonably than when I am a little mad; that is to say, I shall be at -work again here at daylight to-morrow, to assist in undoing all we have -done this week, and I shall be less tired than if I had passed the night -in my bed." -</p> -<p> -"You must despise me for being unable to find in wine the superhuman -strength that it gives you!" -</p> -<p> -"You have never cared to try!" cried the old man; and he added -instantly: "and you have done well! because at your age it is an -unnecessary stimulant. Ah! when I was young the lightest glance from a -woman would have given me more strength than the whole of the princess's -cellar would give me at this moment! Well, good-night, my boy." -</p> -<p> -As he spoke, Pier-Angelo started up the wooden staircase he had helped -to put in place, for he and his son had been talking in the garden, -where he had thrown himself on the turf to recover his breath. Michel -detained him, and, instead of leaving him, said with inexplicable -emotion: -</p> -<p> -"Father, are you entitled to remain at the ball after the invited guests -have arrived?" -</p> -<p> -"Why, surely," replied Pier-Angelo, surprised by the young man's manner. -"Several of us were selected from each branch of trade, about a hundred -men in all, to see that nothing goes wrong during the festivity. In the -midst of so much commotion, a board may give way, or a piece of canvas -get loose and take fire from the candles; a thousand accidents always -have to be guarded against, and a certain number of tried arms always -kept in readiness to repair them. We may have nothing to do; and in that -case we shall pass the night merrily at table; but, whatever happens, we -are at hand. Moreover, we have the right to go everywhere, in order to -have an eye upon everything and to prevent fire, confusion, the bad -smell from the candles that go out, the fall of a picture, a chandelier, -a vase, heaven knows what! We are always wanted, and we make a circuit -of the rooms, turn and turn about, if for nothing more than to prevent -pickpockets from creeping in." -</p> -<p> -"And you are paid to do this servant's work?" -</p> -<p> -"We are paid if we choose. To those who do it purely from good-will the -princess always makes some acceptable present, and for old friends like -me she always has a pleasant word and some delicate little attention. -And then, even if it brought me in nothing, isn't it my duty to place my -foresight, my activity, and my loyalty at the service of a woman whom I -esteem as much as I esteem her? I have no need of her assistance as yet; -but I have seen how she helps those who get into difficulty, and I know -that she would dress my wounds with her own hands if I were wounded." -</p> -<p> -"Yes, yes, I know all about that," rejoined Michel, gloomily; -"benevolence, charity, pity, alms-giving!" -</p> -<p> -"Come, come! Master Pier-Angelo," said a valet, who passed them at that -moment, "it is time to change your clothes. Take off your apron, the -guests are arriving; go to the dressing-room, or to the buffet first, if -you like." -</p> -<p> -"True," said Pier-Angelo, "we are a little untidy to rub elbows with -such beautiful gowns. Farewell, Michel, I am going to beautify myself. -Go home and rest." -</p> -<p> -Michel glanced at his own clothes, which were soiled and torn in a -thousand places. His pride returned; he slowly descended the steps -leading to the main ball-room and walked across it, amid the resplendent -groups which were beginning to appear. A young man who entered as Michel -was going out jostled him roughly. Michel was on the point of flying -into a rage; but he restrained himself when he saw that the young man in -question was as distraught as he. -</p> -<p> -He was a youth of some twenty-five years, of small stature and with a -most attractive face. And yet, both in his face and bearing there was -something peculiar which attracted Michel's attention, although he could -not explain to his own satisfaction why he should take an interest in -the stranger. It is certain, however, that there must have been -something unusual about him, for the door-keeper to whom he had handed -his card of admission glanced several times from him to the card and -from the card to him, as if he wished to make sure that it was all -right. He had not taken three steps into the room when other people -turned their eyes upon him as if by virtue of a contagious impulse, and -Michel, still standing by the door, heard a lady say to the gentleman -who escorted her: -</p> -<p> -"Who is that man? I do not know him." -</p> -<p> -"Nor do I," was the reply; "but what do you expect? In a company so -numerous as this is likely to be, do you fancy that you will not meet -many strange faces?" -</p> -<p> -"Of course, I expect to," replied the lady, "and we shall see, in this -ball for which anyone can buy a ticket, a mixture that will amuse us. To -begin with, I am amused by this person who has just come in, and has -stopped short under the first chandelier, as if he were looking for his -road through this huge room. Just look at him! it is very curious; he's -a handsome fellow!" -</p> -<p> -"Really, you are very much engrossed by that youth," said her escort, -who, whether lover or husband, knew Sicilian womankind by heart. And so, -instead of looking at the man to whom his attention was directed, he -looked behind, to see whether, while his attention was attracted in one -direction, someone on the other side did not hand her a note or exchange -a meaning glance with her. But, whether because she was really virtuous, -or by mere chance, she was sincere at that moment and looked at no one -but the stranger. -</p> -<p> -Michel did not go away, and yet he had ceased to think of the reckless -youth who had jostled him; he had espied, at the end of the ball-room, a -white dress and a coronet of diamonds which twinkled like pale stars. He -had seen the princess only an instant, and there were many other women -at the ball in white dresses, many other diadems of precious stones. -However, he was not mistaken as to her identity, and he could not take -his eyes from her. -</p> -<p> -The lady and gentleman who had noticed the arrival of the unknown young -man walked away, and Michel heard other voices at his side. -</p> -<p> -"I have seen that face somewhere, I don't know where," said a lady. -</p> -<p> -A pale, lovely young woman, who was walking with the last speaker, -exclaimed, in a tone which aroused Michel from his reverie: -</p> -<p> -"Ah! great God! what a resemblance!" -</p> -<p> -"Why! what is the matter, my dear?" -</p> -<p> -"Nothing; a memory, a resemblance; but it is not the same——" -</p> -<p> -"What are you talking about, pray?" -</p> -<p> -"I will tell you later. First of all, look at that man." -</p> -<p> -"That short young man? I certainly don't know him." -</p> -<p> -"Nor do I; but he bears a most appalling resemblance to a man -who——" -</p> -<p> -Michel heard no more; the beautiful young woman had lowered her voice as -she walked on. -</p> -<p> -Who could that man be who had just come in, and who already produced -such a marked sensation? Michel looked at him and saw that he was -retracing his steps as if he intended to go out; but he halted in front -of him and said in a voice as soft as a woman's: "My friend, will you be -kind enough to tell me which of all the ladies who are already here is -Princess Agatha de Palmarosa?" -</p> -<p> -"I have no idea," replied Michel, impelled by an instinctive feeling of -distrust and jealousy. -</p> -<p> -"Then you do not know her?" queried the stranger. -</p> -<p> -"No, signor," replied Michel, dryly. -</p> -<p> -The stranger entered the ball-room and plunged into the crowd, which was -rapidly increasing. Michel looked after him and observed something -peculiar in his carriage. Although he was dressed in the height of -fashion, and with an elaborateness which bordered on bad taste, he -seemed ill at ease in his clothes, like a man who had never before worn -a black coat and close-fitting breeches. And yet there was in his manner -a something haughty and distinguished which did not denote the petty -bourgeois in his Sunday garb. -</p> -<p> -As Michel turned to go away at last, he saw that the halberdier who was -guarding the door was equally engrossed by the stranger's appearance. -</p> -<p> -"I don't know," he was saying to Barbagallo, the majordomo, who had just -accosted him, apparently to question him; "I know a peasant who looks -like him, but it isn't the man." -</p> -<p> -A third retainer came up and said: -</p> -<p> -"That must be the Greek prince who arrived yesterday, or one of his -escort." -</p> -<p> -"Or else some follower of the Egyptian envoy," said the halberdier. -</p> -<p> -"Or else," added Barbagallo, "some Levantine merchant. When those people -leave off their native costume and dress in the European style, you -can't recognize them. Did he buy his ticket at the door? You mustn't -allow anybody to do that." -</p> -<p> -"He had his ticket in his hand; I saw him present it all open, and the -door-keeper said: 'Her Highness's signature.'" -</p> -<p> -Michel had not listened to this discussion; he was already well on his -way to Catania. -</p> -<p> -He returned to his humble abode and sat down on his bed; but he forgot -to lie down. As he threw back his hair, the weight of which made his -forehead hot, he saw a small flower fall. It was a white cyclamen -blossom. How had it broken off and clung to his hair? There was no -reason for much surprise or uneasiness. The place where he had worked -and hustled about, gone hither and thither a thousand times, was so -thickly strewn with flowers of all sorts. -</p> -<p> -But Michel did not remember that. He simply remembered the enormous -bouquet of cyclamen which the Princess of Palmarosa carried when he had -stooped tremblingly and kissed her hand. He put the flower to his lips; -it exhaled an intoxicating odor. He took his head in both hands. It -seemed to him that he was going mad. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap09"></a>IX -<br><br> -MILA -</h4> - -<p> -The mental disturbance which our young painter experienced at that -moment was due to two causes, one an absurd sort of jealousy, which had -taken possession of him like an attack of fever, with respect to -Princess Agatha; the other, a feeling of disquiet, because he had failed -to obtain that noble person's approval of his paintings. Of course it -was not mere love of gain, the desire to be paid more or less -handsomely, which worked upon him thus. So long as he had been engrossed -by the fever of production, he had given very little thought to the -subject of the signora's personal opinion; he had thought only of -succeeding, of satisfying himself; then, having almost succeeded in his -own eyes, and having not as yet seen his mysterious patroness, he had -wondered, with more hope than alarm, whether he should find enough -enlightened judges in that province to establish his reputation upon an -undertaking of that sort. In short, he had had so much to do up to the -last moment that he had not had time to analyze his anxiety. -</p> -<p> -When he was quite alone, he found that he was strangely disturbed by the -knowledge that people were passing judgment on his work, and that he -could not be there. What prevented him? No orders related to his humble -position in society, but a poignant false shame, which he did not feel -the strength to overcome. -</p> -<p> -And yet Michel was not cowardly, either as a man or as an artist. -Despite his youth he had already reflected deeply concerning his future -prospects, and he had already reviewed concisely enough the list of -successes and reverses connected with his destiny. Feeling that he was -seized with faint-heartedness at the outset, he was surprised, and tried -to fight against himself. But the more he questioned himself, the more -fully he recognized his weakness, but would not avow its cause. -Therefore we will give the reader that information. -</p> -<p> -At the bottom of this depression and alarm there lay a feeling of -uncertainty as to the opinion the princess had formed concerning him. -Pier-Angelo had told him that morning that during Sunday her highness -had inspected the ball-room; but that, as he was not present, he did not -know what she had said. Master Barbagallo, being in ill-humor because of -the numerous vexations attendant upon the fête, had spoken very coldly -to him on the subject, but had not said that the princess seemed -dissatisfied or that she criticised anything. Whereupon honest -Pier-Angelo had added, with his usual confidence: "Never fear, she knows -what is what. It is impossible that she should not be satisfied beyond -what she expected." Michel had surrendered to that confidence without -paying much heed to the question whether it was justified. He had said -to himself that, even if the princess were not a connoisseur, there -would soon be enough connoisseurs about her to guide her judgment. -</p> -<p> -Moreover, he was afraid of everybody now because he was afraid of the -princess. She had looked at him in a way that had completely upset him; -but she had said nothing to him; not a word of praise or encouragement -had accompanied that glance, which was more than kind, it is true, but -for that very reason incomprehensible. And suppose he had been mistaken -touching the expression of her face! suppose that, when she thus fixed -her lovely, joy-laden eyes upon him, she was thinking of some entirely -different person—her lover, perhaps, for she must have a lover, -whatever Magnani might say! -</p> -<p> -At the bare idea Michel felt faint and sick; he fancied that he saw the -princess leaning on the arm of the fortunate mortal for whose sake she -pretended to entertain no thought of marriage. They were glancing -absently at the young painter's work, and smiling as they looked into -each other's eyes, as if to say: -</p> -<p> -"What does it matter to us? nothing is beautiful, nothing exists for us, -except ourselves." -</p> -<p> -Weary of suffering so entirely without reason, Michel thought to conquer -and tranquillize himself by adopting a superb resolution. -</p> -<p> -"I will go to bed," he said to himself, "and sleep like a prince, like a -hero, while people are criticising me, disputing and perhaps getting -excited about me in yonder palace. To-morrow morning, father will come -and wake me, and tell me whether I have won the laurel wreath or have -been hissed. What does it matter to me, after all?" -</p> -<p> -It mattered so little to him, in very truth, that, instead of -undressing, he dressed to go to the ball. In a most extraordinary fit of -abstraction, he arranged his beautiful hair, which would have been a bit -too long for a strictly fashionable patrician, but which formed a -beautiful frame for his intelligent and impassioned face. He removed -with the greatest care all traces of toil; he donned his finest linen -and his best clothes; and when he had glanced at his little mirror, he -decided, and with good reason, that no guest at the princess's ball -would present a more distinguished figure than he. -</p> -<p> -Having thus prepared for bed, he left the house, and when he had taken -ten steps out of doors, he discovered that an inexplicable preoccupation -was leading him in the direction of the Palmarosa palace. Indignant with -himself, he returned, took off his coat, tossed it on the bed, opened -his window and sat beside it, torn between the heroic determination to -retire and the irresistible temptation to go and witness the fête. -</p> -<p> -The countless lights of the palace twinkled before his eyes, the notes -of the orchestra reached his ears through the echoing night. Carriages -were rolling in all directions; no one was asleep in the city or the -outlying country. Indeed, it was not nine o'clock, and Michel felt -little inclined to sleep. He closed his window and started to take up a -book; but the cyclamen, which he had tossed upon the table in an -outburst of anger against himself, was the only object within his reach. -</p> -<p> -Thereupon it seemed to him that, through the delicate and penetrating -odor of musk exhaled by the pink-tipped petals of that pretty little -flower, he saw palpable images take shape and gather about him. Women, -lights, flowers, gushing waters, diamonds with a bluish gleam; and with -the things which seemed real, fanciful things were mingled as in a -dream. Lovely dancing-girls of antique times, whom Michel had painted on -the ceiling, stood forth gracefully from the canvas, and, raising their -azure and purple tunics above their knees, glided through the crowd, and -cast upon him as they passed lewd glances and mysterious smiles. Drunk -with desire, he followed them, and lost them, and found them again, seizing -one by her floating girdle, another by her transparent <i>peplum</i>, -but exhausting himself in vain efforts, in vain entreaties, to detain -them and give them substance. -</p> -<p> -Then a white female passed slowly and took sole possession of his -vagrant passion. She stopped in front of him and gazed at him, at first -with stony eyes, which gradually became animated and ended by flashing -flames, whereby he felt that he was being consumed. Lying motionless at -her feet, he saw her stoop over him. He fancied that he felt her breath -upon his brow; but instantly the giddy band of Latin harlots entangled -him in a network of multi-colored tunics and whirled him upward toward -the ceiling. Then he found himself alone on his ladder, smeared with -paint, covered with dirt, exhausted, gasping for breath, in a ghastly -solitude, dimly lighted by a vague gleam of daylight. Silence hovered -over the cold, deserted rooms; naught remained of his vision save a -little broken flower, whose fragrance he had exhausted by inhaling it. -</p> -<p> -This hallucination became so painful that Michel, in terror, pushed the -cyclamen away once more, thinking that there must be something soporific -or poisonous in its exhalations. But he could not make up his mind to -destroy it. He placed it in a glass of water and opened his window -again. -</p> -<p> -"Why suffer thus without reason and without any object?" he said to -himself; "is it a woman's glance, or the distant view of a great fête, -that makes my disordered imagination run riot thus? Very well! if the -mad creature is untamable, let her have her way; doubtless the spectacle -of what really is will either extinguish her frenzy or furnish it with -fresh food. I shall either become calm, or suffer in some new way; what -does it matter!" -</p> -<p> -"What is the trouble, that you are talking to yourself so, Michel?" said -a soft voice, while at the same time the door of his little chamber -opened behind him. And Michel, turning his head, saw his little sister -Mila, who approached him on tiptoe, with bare feet and her body wrapped -in a <i>piddemia</i>—a brown cloak worn by the women of the people. -</p> -<p> -No one in the world was so pretty, so sweet, and so lovable as Mila. -Michel had always loved her dearly. And yet her appearance at that -moment caused him some vexation. -</p> -<p> -"What are you doing here, little one?" he said; "why aren't you asleep?" -</p> -<p> -"Asleep already!" she said, "when I hear carriages rumbling through the -streets and see the princess's palace shining yonder like a star? Oh! I -cannot sleep! Our father made me promise to go to bed as usual, and not -to go running about the palace with the other girls, to try to look at -the fête through the open doors. So I went to bed, and although those -violins, which you can hear from here, made my heart beat time, I was -determined to go to sleep, when my friend Nenna came and asked me to go -with her." -</p> -<p> -"And you mean to go, Mila? to disobey your father? to loiter about that -house, which is all surrounded by servants, beggars and vagabonds, with -a hare-brained creature like Nenna? You shall not do it, I forbid you!" -</p> -<p> -"Oh! you needn't put on those high and mighty paternal airs, my dear -brother," retorted Mila, in an offended tone. "Do you suppose I am mad -enough to listen to Nenna? I sent her away; she is a long way from here, -and I was going to sleep again when I heard you walking about and -talking. I thought father was with you; but I saw through the crack of -the door that you were alone, and then ——" -</p> -<p> -"Then you came in here to chatter, in order to avoid going to sleep, -eh?" -</p> -<p> -"It is true that I have no desire to go to bed so early, and father -didn't forbid me to listen and look on from a distance at what is going -on up there! Oh! how beautiful it must be! You can see much better from -your window than from mine, Michel; do let me feast my eyes on that -beautiful bright light!" -</p> -<p> -"No, little one. The wind is cool to-night, and you have almost no -clothes on. I am going to shut the window and go to bed. Go and do the -same; good-night." -</p> -<p> -"You are going to bed; and have just dressed yourself! what did you do -it for, pray? Michel, you are deceiving me, you are going to see the -ball, you are going in! I will bet that you are invited, and that you -won't tell me so!" -</p> -<p> -"Invited! they don't invite people like us to such grand affairs, my -poor dear! When we enter that palace, we go as workmen, not as friends." -</p> -<p> -"What difference does that make, so long as you're there? Then you are -going? Oh! how I would like to be in your place!" -</p> -<p> -"Why, what is the meaning of this frantic desire to see this fête?" -</p> -<p> -"To see what is beautiful, Michel, isn't that all? When you draw a -beautiful figure, I take more pleasure in looking at it, perhaps, than -you do who drew it." -</p> -<p> -"But if you were there, it would be on condition that you were hidden in -some hole, for if they saw you, they would turn you out; you could not -even show yourself, much less dance!" -</p> -<p> -"Very true; but I should see the others dance, and that would be much." -</p> -<p> -"You are a child. Good-night." -</p> -<p> -"I see that you aren't willing to take me!" -</p> -<p> -"No, surely not; I can't. They would turn you out, and I should have to -break the head of some insolent lackey for insulting you when you were -on my arm." -</p> -<p> -"What! isn't there some little corner no bigger than your hand, where I -could hide? I am so small! Look, Michel, I could get into your cupboard. -Anyway, you could take me to the door without taking me in, and father -would not be angry to know that I was there with you." -</p> -<p> -Michel preached a beautiful sermon to Mila on the subject of childish -curiosity, and the violent instinctive longing which she felt to -intoxicate herself with the spectacle of patrician grandeur. He forgot -that he was consumed by the same longing, and that he was anxious to be -alone so that he might give way to it. -</p> -<p> -Mila listened to reason when Michel told her that he was going to assist -his father to overlook the decorations of the ball; but she heaved a -deep sigh, none the less. -</p> -<p> -"Well," she said, tearing herself away from the window, "it's no use to -think any more about it. However, it's my own fault; for if I had had -any idea that I should be so wild to go, I could very easily have asked -the princess to invite me." -</p> -<p> -"Now you are going mad again, just as I thought you were becoming -reasonable, Mila! As if the princess could have invited you, even if she -had taken it into her head to do it!" -</p> -<p> -"Why, of course she could; isn't she the mistress of her own house?" -</p> -<p> -"Even so! what would all those ancient dowagers, all those august -blockheads say, if they should see little Mila, with her velvet jacket -and striped skirt, dancing about among their noble dolls of daughters?" -</p> -<p> -"Let me tell you, that I might perhaps cut a better figure than all of -them, young and old!" -</p> -<p> -"That is no reason." -</p> -<p> -"I know that; but the princess is a queen in her house, and I will bet -that she will invite me to the first ball she chooses to give." -</p> -<p> -"You will ask her to, I suppose?" -</p> -<p> -"To be sure! I know her, and she is very fond of me; she is a friend of -mine." -</p> -<p> -As she said this, Mila drew herself up and assumed an air of importance, -so comical and so fascinating that Michel laughed and kissed her. -</p> -<p> -"I like to see, Mila," he said, "that you have no suspicion of anything. -And why should I deceive you? You will lose soon enough the trustful -illusions of your age of gold! But, since you know this beautiful -princess so well, pray tell me something about her, my dear little -sister; tell me how it happens that you are so intimately acquainted -with her, without my knowing anything about it?" -</p> -<p> -"Aha! Michel, you are curious to know that, now! But since you have -shown so little eagerness to question me, you will kindly wait a little -longer, until it pleases me to answer you." -</p> -<p> -"So it's a secret, is it?" -</p> -<p> -"Perhaps! what do you care?" -</p> -<p> -"I care very little, in truth, to know anything whatsoever concerning -this princess. She has a fine palace, I work there, she pays me, and I -care little about anything else for the moment. But nothing that -interests my little Mila can be indifferent to me, nor should it be -hidden from me, in my opinion." -</p> -<p> -"Now you are flattering me to make me speak. Well, I will not speak, -there! But I will show you something that will make you open your eyes. -See, what do you say to this pretty thing?" -</p> -<p> -And Mila took from her bosom a locket surrounded by large diamonds. -</p> -<p> -"They are fine stones," she said, "and worth I don't know how much -money. Enough to provide me with a marriage portion if I chose to sell -them; but I will never part with them, because they came from my best -friend." -</p> -<p> -"And that friend is the Princess of Palmarosa?" -</p> -<p> -"Yes, Agatha Palmarosa; don't you see her cipher engraved on the gold of -the locket?" -</p> -<p> -"Yes, that is true! But what is there inside this priceless trinket?" -</p> -<p> -"Hair, lovely light chestnut hair, with a touch of gold, naturally -curly, and so fine!" said the girl, opening the locket. "Isn't it soft -and glossy?" -</p> -<p> -"That isn't the princess's, for hers is black." -</p> -<p> -"So you have seen her, after all?" -</p> -<p> -"Yes, I just caught a glimpse of her. But tell me, Mila, whose hair you -wear against your heart, and in such a valuable locket?" -</p> -<p> -"How inquisitive you are! you are blind and dull, too, like all -inquisitive people. Don't you recognize it? Don't you remember where I -got it?" -</p> -<p> -"No, indeed, I do not." -</p> -<p> -"Well, put it against yours and you will recognize it, although your -head has grown a little darker in a year." -</p> -<p> -"Dear little sister! yes, I do remember now that you cut it from my head -the day you left Rome—and you have kept it all this time!" -</p> -<p> -"I used to carry it in a little black bag. My friend Agatha asked of -what saint I carried a relic in my scapulary, and when I told her that -it was my darling and only brother's hair, she took it and said she -would send it back to me the next day; and the next day she sent me by -father this lovely locket filled with your hair. However, some of it was -missing. The jeweller who put it inside either stole it or lost it." -</p> -<p> -"Lost it, that may be," said Michel, with a smile; "but as for stealing -it! This hair has no value to anyone but you, Mila!" -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap10"></a>X -<br><br> -PROBLEM -</h4> - -<p> -"But, after all, what is the source of this friendship of the princess -for you," continued Michel, after a pause; "what have you ever done for -her that she should make you such presents?" -</p> -<p> -"Nothing at all. Father, who is on excellent terms with her, took me to -the palace one day to present me to her. She took a fancy to me; she -paid me all sorts of attentions; she asked me for my friendship, and I -promised it and gave it to her at once. I passed the day all alone with -her, walking about her villa and the gardens. Since then I go there when -I choose, and I am always sure of being well received." -</p> -<p> -"And you go often?" -</p> -<p> -"I have never been but twice, for it isn't long since I first knew her. -I know that the palace has been turned upside down this last week by the -preparations for the ball, and I was afraid of being in poor Agatha's -way when, of course, she had a thousand things to do. But I shall go in -two or three days." -</p> -<p> -"So that is the whole of the mystery, is it? Why did you need so much -urging to tell it?" -</p> -<p> -"Oh! because the princess said to me when I came away: 'Mila, please -don't tell anyone about the delightful day we have passed together and -the friendship we have formed. I have my reasons for asking you to keep -it secret. You shall know them later, and I know that I can rely on your -promise if you will give it to me.'—As you can imagine, Michel, I did -not refuse it." -</p> -<p> -"Very good; but you are breaking your word now." -</p> -<p> -"No, I am not. You are not <i>anybody</i> to me, and, of course, the -princess didn't suppose I would have any secrets from my father or my -brother." -</p> -<p> -"Does my father know all this, then?" -</p> -<p> -"Certainly, I told him about it at once." -</p> -<p> -"And he was neither surprised nor disturbed by this whim of the -princess?" -</p> -<p> -"Why surprised, please? It is your surprise that is very strange and a -little impertinent, Michel. Am I not capable of inspiring friendship, -even in a princess? And why disturbed? Is not friendship a good and -pleasant thing?" -</p> -<p> -"Still, my child, I am, if not disturbed, at all events astonished at -this friendship. Tell me this, which may explain it in some measure. Has -our father rendered Princess Agatha some great service?" -</p> -<p> -"He has done much beautiful decorating in the palace. He has made some -superb foliage in the dining-room among other things." -</p> -<p> -"I have seen all that; but he is well paid. The princess has taken a -liking to him because of his zeal and disinterestedness, I suppose?" -</p> -<p> -"Yes, that must be it. Isn't it true that anybody who knows father for a -little time loves him?" -</p> -<p> -"That is so. Then it is because of our excellent father that you arouse -so much interest in this great lady!" -</p> -<p> -"Oh! Michel, she isn't a great lady, I tell you! she's a good woman, a -kind, lovely woman." -</p> -<p> -"And what could she find to say to you, my child, for a whole day?" -</p> -<p> -"She asked me a thousand questions, about myself and father and you, -about our life in Rome, your occupations, our home life and our tastes. -I really believe that she made me tell our whole history day by day, -ever since I was born; I talked so much that I was tired out that -evening." -</p> -<p> -"It seems that this lady is terribly inquisitive; for what does it all -matter to her?" -</p> -<p> -"Now you mention it, I believe that she is a little inquisitive; but it -is a pleasure to answer her questions; she listens to you with so much -interest, and she is so pleasant! Come, don't speak ill of her, or I -shall be angry with you!" -</p> -<p> -"Very well, let us say no more about her; God forbid that I should teach -you distrust and dread, my lovely angel heart! Go to bed, now; father is -waiting for me. To-morrow we will talk again of your adventure, for -surely this great friendship with a beautiful princess is a marvellous -adventure in a life like yours—although she no more thinks of you now -than of the last pair of slippers she wore. No matter! don't put on that -injured air. It may be that, some day when she is lonely and idle, the -Princess of Palmarosa will send for you, to be entertained again by your -prattle." -</p> -<p> -"You don't know what you are saying, Michel. The princess is not idle, -and if you insist upon taking it this way, I will tell you that, -kind-hearted as she is, she has the reputation of being decidedly cold -with people of our station. Some say that she is proud, others that she -is timid. The fact is that she always speaks pleasantly and courteously -to the workmen and servants who come in contact with her, but that she -speaks to them so little, so little!—that she is noted for it, and -that some people who have worked for her for years have never known the -sound of her voice and have hardly seen her in her own house. So that -her friendship for father and me is no commonplace thing; it is genuine -friendship, and your mockery will never prevent me from relying upon it. -Good-night, Michel; I am not very well pleased with you to-night; I -never saw you with this sarcastic air before. You talk as if you meant -to say that I am only a little girl and no one can love me!" -</p> -<p> -"That is not my thought, so far as I myself am concerned, at all events! -for, little slip of a girl as you are, I adore you!" -</p> -<p> -"What did you say, brother? You adore me? that is a lovely word. Kiss -me." -</p> -<p> -The child threw herself into his arms. Michel embraced her lovingly, and -as she laid her lovely brown head on his shoulder, he kissed the long -hair that fell over the girl's half uncovered back. -</p> -<p> -But suddenly he pushed her away with a painful shudder. All the burning -thoughts that had excited his brain an hour earlier recurred to his mind -with the vividness of remorse, and it seemed to him that his lips were -no longer pure enough to bless his little sister. -</p> -<p> -He was no sooner alone than he rushed through the door of the old house -in which he lived, without pausing to close that of his room. To tell -the truth, he paid no heed to the distance he travelled, and, still -haunted by his dreams, he fancied that he stepped directly from the -landing of his attic to the marble peristyle of the villa. And yet it -was nearly a mile from the last houses of the suburb of Catania to the -gateway of the palace. -</p> -<p> -The first face upon which his eyes fell as he was about to enter the -ball-room was that of the stranger to whom his attention had been -attracted as he went away. The young man was walking slowly from the -room, wiping his forehead with a handkerchief trimmed with lace. Michel, -puzzled by his conduct, and wondering if it were not a woman in -disguise, resolutely accosted him. -</p> -<p> -"Well, my friend," he said, "did you succeed in seeing Princess Agatha?" -</p> -<p> -The stranger, who seemed absorbed by his thoughts, raised his head -abruptly, and darted at Michel a glance instinct with such inexplicable -distrust, and even malevolence, that the young painter felt a sort of -cold shiver run down his back. It was not the glance of a woman, but of -a forceful and hot-tempered man. The feeling of hostility is unfamiliar -to youthful hearts, and Michel's contracted as with a sudden pang. It -seemed to him that the stranger instinctively felt for a knife in his -gold embroidered satin waistcoat, and he followed his movements with -surprise. -</p> -<p> -"How does it happen?" said the other, in the same soft voice, in marked -contrast to his angry, threatening manner, "that you were a mechanic a -short time ago, and that now you are a gentleman?" -</p> -<p> -"The fact is that I am neither one nor the other," replied Michel, with -a smile; "I am an artist employed in the palace. Do you feel more at -ease? my question seems to have disturbed you greatly. However, one -question deserves another. Did you not ask me one without knowing me?" -</p> -<p> -"Do you mean to jest, signor?" retorted the stranger, who spoke in -excellent Italian, without any accent to justify the Greek or Egyptian -antecedents suggested by Barbagallo. -</p> -<p> -"Not in the least," replied Michel, "and, as for my accosting you, pray -pardon an impulsive exhibition of curiosity entirely free from -malevolent intention." -</p> -<p> -"Curiosity! why curiosity?" rejoined the unknown, clenching his teeth -and crowding his words together in peculiarly Sicilian fashion. -</p> -<p> -"Faith! I have no idea," replied Michel. "We have had enough discussion -over a thoughtless word; I had no purpose of offending you. If your -displeasure continues, do not look about for pretexts to begin a -quarrel, for I have no intention of avoiding it." -</p> -<p> -"Are not you the one who seeks to quarrel with me?" rejoined the -stranger, with a glance more threatening than the first. -</p> -<p> -"On my word, signor, you are mad," said Michel, with a shrug. -</p> -<p> -"You are right," retorted the unknown, "for I stand here listening to -the idle talk of a fool." -</p> -<p> -The words had no sooner passed his lips than Michel rushed at him with a -sudden determination to strike him. But, fearing lest he might strike a -woman, for the stranger's sex still seemed to him very doubtful, he -paused; and he congratulated himself when he saw that problematical -personage turn upon his heel and vanish so quickly that Michel could not -determine in what direction he had gone, and concluded that he had been -dreaming again. -</p> -<p> -"Surely I am beset by phantoms to-night," he said to himself. But as -soon as he found himself in presence of real mortals, he recovered the -notion of reality. He was asked for his card of admission. He gave his -name. -</p> -<p> -"Ah! Michel," said the door-keeper, "I did not know you. How fine you -are! You look like an invited guest. Go in, my boy, and pay close -attention to the lights. The pretty stuff that you have hung over our -heads would take fire so quickly! It seems that you are coming in for a -deal of praise. Everybody says that the figures are done by a master -hand." -</p> -<p> -Michel was offended at being addressed thus familiarly by a servant, -offended at being assigned to the duties of fireman, and secretly -delighted nevertheless at having obtained a triumph which was already -the talk of the antechamber. -</p> -<p> -He glided into the crowd, hoping to pass through unnoticed and to reach -some secluded corner where he could see and hear at his ease; but there -were so many people in the great ball-room that they brushed against one -another and trod on one another's feet. He was carried to the other end -of the vast structure before he realized the impetus that the compact -mass had imparted to him; and thus he arrived at the foot of the great -staircase. Not until then was he able to stop, gasping for breath, and -open his eyes, nostrils, ears, and mind, to the enchanting spectacle of -the fête. -</p> -<p> -Being somewhat above the flower-bedecked benches, he could see at a -glance both the dances in progress about the fountains, and the -spectators who jostled and squeezed one another to watch the dances. The -noise and glare and commotion were well adapted to dazzle and bewilder -a more mature brain than Michel's. What an array of lovely women, -marvellous jewels, white shoulders and resplendent head-dresses! What -majestic or alluring charms! What merriment, feigned or genuine! What -airs of languor, counterfeited or ill dissembled! -</p> -<p> -Michel was intoxicated for an instant; but when his eyes began to see -more clearly and to separate the countless details of the scene,—when -he asked himself which of all those women would be, in his mind, an -ideal model,—he looked up at the ideal figures he had painted in the -ceiling, and was better satisfied, vain-glorious youth, with his own -work than with God's. -</p> -<p> -He had dreamed of perfect beauty. He believed that he had found it in -the creations of his brush. He was probably mistaken; for it is -impossible to create a divine image without giving it human features, -and nothing on earth is blessed with absolute perfection. However that -may have been, Michel, still faltering and awkward in his art in several -respects, had approached as nearly as possible to perfect beauty in his -types. That was what impressed all those who examined his work; above -all, that was what impressed him when he sought among real persons the -personification of his ideas. Among the whole number he saw only two or -three women who seemed truly beautiful, and even those two or three he -would have liked to hold against his canvas, in order to take away from -one or give to another a certain outline or a certain coloring, wherein -they seemed to him to lack fullness or purity. -</p> -<p> -He was perfectly cool,—cool as an artist analyzing a -figure,—and he realized that the human countenance made up for its -shortcomings in the way of perfection of feature solely by the -expression of life. -</p> -<p> -"I have drawn more beautiful faces," he said to himself, "but they are -not true. They do not think, they do not breathe, they do not love. It -would be better that they should be less beautiful and more animate. -When I roll up these canvases to-morrow, I will destroy them all, and -then I will change them, and, it may be, overturn all the ideas which -have guided me hitherto." -</p> -<p> -And he abandoned the quest for ideal perfection of form among the living -dancers whom he was studying, to watch their movements, their grace, the -attitudes of the body, the expression of the glance and smile; in a -word, the secret of life. -</p> -<p> -Enchanted at first, he felt that he grew cold once more as he analyzed -each being by itself. In all probability there are many ingenuous souls -among women and among men; but there are very few ingenuous faces to be -found at a ball in fashionable society. People there assume expressions -which are almost always at variance with their characters, whether they -are seeking to attract or to shun attention. Michel fancied that he -could see that some were hypocritically concealing their vanity, while -others arrogantly flaunted it; that this girl, who desired to seem -amorous, was cold and blasé; that the gayety of that other was dismal, -and the melancholy of a third a pretence. A parvenu strove to assume the -air of a man of noble birth; a noble strove to adopt the bearing of a -man of the people. Everybody posed more or less. The most humble tried -to seem self-possessed, and even touching timidity struggled to avoid -the awkwardness which triumphed over its efforts. -</p> -<p> -Michel saw several young mechanics of his acquaintance pass. They were -performing the duties which they had undertaken, and they attracted -attention by their manly appearance and by a touch of picturesqueness in -their holiday attire. The majordomo had evidently selected them from among -the most <i>presentable</i>, and they were well aware of it; for they, -too, posed artlessly: one put forward each shoulder in turn to display -its enormous breadth; another made the most of every inch of his great -stature as he passed many a diminutive great personage; a third elevated -the arch of his eyebrows to show the fair dames an eye as bright as a -carbuncle. -</p> -<p> -Michel was surprised to see those honest fellows transform themselves -so, and sacrifice the advantages of their natural dignity or their -attractive exterior by an affectation, perhaps involuntary, but -certainly ridiculous.—"I knew," he thought, "that all men eagerly -sought approbation, to whatever class or profession they might belong. -But why does this craving to attract attention suddenly deprive us of -the charm or the dignity of our manners? Can it be that the desire is -over-eager, or that the object is contemptible? Must beauty necessarily -be unconscious of itself in order to lose nothing of its splendor? Or am -I alone endowed with this intolerable clearness of vision? Where is the -intense enjoyment that I expected to find here? Instead of following -with interest the actions of other people, I am exerting myself to pass -judgment in cold blood on everything that meets my eye, and to deprive -myself of any external enjoyment!" -</p> -<p> -By dint of watching so closely and making so many comparisons, Michel -had forgotten the main object of his presence at the ball. He remembered -at last that he was especially desirous to study calmly a certain -figure, and he was about to ascend the great staircase and wander about -the interior of the palace, where all the rooms were open and lighted, -When, happening to turn his head, he saw close at hand a detail of the -decorations of which he had forgotten to observe the effect. -</p> -<p> -It was a rockwork grotto, which formed a recess of considerable size -under the staircase. He had himself decorated with shellwork, branches -of coral and picturesque plants, that cool retreat, at the farther end -of which an alabaster naiad poured water from her urn into a huge shell, -always brimming full of clear running water. -</p> -<p> -The taste Michel had displayed in all the details entrusted to him had -induced the majordomo to allow him to arrange many things as he chose; -and as this naiad had impressed him as a charming creation, he had taken -pleasure in placing in her grotto the prettiest vases, the daintiest -garlands and the finest rugs. He had spent a full hour surrounding the -mother-of-pearl shell with a border of moss, as fine and soft as velvet, -in selecting and arranging in graceful and charming disorder bunches of -iris and water-lilies, and those long ribbon-like leaves which harmonize -so perfectly with the undulating movement of running water. -</p> -<p> -Now the grotto was lighted by a pale light concealed behind the foliage; -and as everybody was intent upon watching the dance, the entrance was -unobstructed. Michel entered stealthily; but he had not taken three -steps when he saw a person seated, or rather reclining, in the -half-light, at the naiad's feet. He hastily concealed himself behind a -jutting rock, and was about to retire; but an irresistible fascination -detained him. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap11"></a>XI -<br><br> -THE GROTTO OF THE NAIAD -</h4> - -<p> -Princess Agatha was reclining on a divan of dark velvet, where her -graceful and noble figure resembled a ghost in the moonlight. Michel -could see her profile in the dim light, and the reflection of the -candles behind her outlined with admirable distinctness features as -delicate and pure as a young maid's. Her long full white gown assumed -all the shades of the opal in that soft light, and the diamonds in her -coronet shot flames of changing hue, now like the sapphire and again -like the emerald. Michel lost altogether the idea that he had formed of -her age when he first saw her. It seemed to him that she was a child, -and when he remembered that he had believed her to be above thirty, he -asked himself whether she was thus transfigured by a celestial radiance -or by a gleam from hell, wherewith she was able, like a sorceress, to -envelop herself in order to deceive the senses. -</p> -<p> -She seemed fatigued and depressed. But her attitude was modest and her -expression serene. She was inhaling the perfume of her bouquet of -cyclamen and playing idly with her fan. Michel gazed at her a long time -before he heard, or, at least, attached a meaning to the words she was -saying. She seemed to him lovelier than any of the beauties he had been -scrutinizing so closely, and he could not understand the unmixed, -boundless admiration which she aroused in him. He strove in vain to -examine her features in detail and analyze her charms; he could not -succeed. She seemed to be floating in a magic fluid which protected her -from being studied like other women. From time to time, thinking that he -understood her, he closed his eyes and tried to sketch her portrait in -his memory, to draw her in imagination, in strokes of flame, on the -black veil which he spread before his own eyes by lowering his lids. But -he saw naught but confused lines, and could not conjure up any distinct -face. He was compelled to reopen his eyes in haste and gaze at her with -anxiety, with intense delight, and above all, with surprise. -</p> -<p> -For there was a something indescribable about her. She was perfectly -natural; of all the women Michel had seen, she alone seemed to have no -thought of herself; she had assumed no studied air or manner; she did -not know, or did not choose to know, what people thought of her, what -they felt as they looked at her; she had the tranquillity of a mind -disassociated from all human things, and the entire freedom from -constraint that she might have had in absolute solitude. -</p> -<p> -And yet she was arrayed like a genuine princess; she was giving a ball, -she displayed her magnificence, she played her rôle of a great lady and -of a woman of the world, like any other, to all appearance. Why then -that madonna-like air, that inward meditation, or that rapt -contemplation of a soul above human vanities? -</p> -<p> -She was a living enigma to the young artist's restless imagination. -Something still more strange perplexed him beyond measure; and that was -that it seemed to him that he had not seen her that day for the first -time. -</p> -<p> -Where could he have seen her before? In vain did he rack his memory. -When he arrived at Catania her very name was strange to him. A person of -such exalted rank, and so remarkable by reason of her wealth, her -beauty, and her reputation for virtue, could not have come to Rome -<i>incognito</i>. Michel cudgelled his brain. He could recall no occasion -when he could have seen her; especially as when he looked at her, he had -a feeling, not that he had known her slightly, but that he had known her -intimately and for a long time, ever since he was born. -</p> -<p> -When he had exhausted his memory, he said to himself that there must be -some abstract reason for that sensation. It must be due to the fact that -she was the ideal type of beauty of which he had always dreamed, but -which he had never been able to grasp and produce. That was a poetic -commonplace. He was fain to be content with it for lack of a better. -</p> -<p> -But the princess was not alone, for she was talking; and Michel soon -discovered that she was tête-à-tête with a man. That was certainly a -reason to impel him to withdraw, but it was difficult to do so. To -preserve the mysterious obscurity of the grotto and exclude the -brilliant light of the ball-room, the entrance had been masked by a -heavy blue velvet curtain, which our inquisitive hero, by the merest -chance, had drawn aside a little way when he entered, without attracting -the attention of the two persons who were talking there. The entrance to -the grotto being only half as wide as the grotto itself, formed a frame, -not of artificial rocks, as would have been the case with us, in our -imitations of <i>rococo</i>, but of genuine blocks of lava, vitrified, and -of divers shades of color, curious and valuable specimens collected long -before in the very crater of the volcano to be set like jewels in the -masonry. This beautiful door-frame protruded far enough into the grotto -to conceal Michel, who was able to see because of its uneven surface. -But, in order to go out, he must raise the curtain again, and he could -hardly hope that both the princess and her companion would be -sufficiently engrossed not to notice him. -</p> -<p> -Michel thought of all this too late to avert the consequences of his -imprudence. It was too late for him to go out naturally, as he had -entered. Moreover he was nailed to his place by the most intense -curiosity and anxiety. Doubtless that man was the princess's lover. -</p> -<p> -He was a man of about thirty-five years, tall, and with a grave, sweet -face, wonderfully handsome and regular. In his manner, as he sat facing -Agatha at a distance, which indicated something betwixt respect and -intimacy, there was nothing to criticise; but when Michel had recovered -his presence of mind sufficiently to listen to the words that fell upon -his ears, he fancied that he could detect an indication of mutual -affection in this observation of the princess: -</p> -<p> -"Thank heaven it has not yet occurred to anyone to raise the curtain and -discover this delightful retreat; although I might naturally take some -pride in bringing my guests here,—for it is beautifully decorated -to-night,—I would like to pass the night here all alone, or with you, -marquis, while the fête and the dancing and the tumult run their course -behind the curtain." -</p> -<p> -The marquis replied, in a tone which did not indicate a presumptuous -man: -</p> -<p> -"You should have had the grotto closed altogether by a door to which you -alone had a key, and have transformed it into a private salon, whither -you could come from time to time to obtain some repose from the heat, -the glare and the compliments. You are not accustomed to society now, -and you were over-confident of your strength. You will be terribly tired -to-morrow." -</p> -<p> -"I am already; but it was not the crowd and the noise that broke me down -so in an instant." -</p> -<p> -"I understand that, my dear friend," said the marquis, pressing Agatha's -hand fraternally in his. "Try to think of something else, at least for a -few hours, so that your preoccupation may not be manifest; for you -cannot escape people's eyes, and, outside of this grotto, you have not -left yourself a single corner of your whole palace where you can take -refuge without running the gauntlet of obsequious salutations, -inquisitive glances—" -</p> -<p> -"And trite remarks with which I am already sated," added the princess, -struggling to smile. "How can anyone be fond of society, marquis? Can -you understand it?" -</p> -<p> -"I can understand it in the case of people who are satisfied with -themselves, and who think that it is always an advantage to exhibit -themselves." -</p> -<p> -"To my mind, the ball is delightful thus, at a distance, when we cannot -see it or be seen. There is something piquant—almost poetic—in -the buzzing, this distant music that we hear, and in the idea that people -are being amused or bored outside, and that we are not compelled to take -any part in it." -</p> -<p> -"But it is reported to-day that you are about to become reconciled to -society, and that this magnificent fête, which you are giving for love -of good works, will incline you to give or to see others. In short, they -say that you are going to change all your habits and reappear in the -world, like a star too long eclipsed." -</p> -<p> -"And why do people say such an extraordinary thing?" -</p> -<p> -"Ah! in order to answer that question, I should have to constitute -myself the echo of all the laudations to which you refused to listen; -and I am not in the habit of telling you even the truth when it bears a -resemblance to insipid compliments." -</p> -<p> -"I do you that justice, and I authorize you to-night to repeat all that -you have heard." -</p> -<p> -"Very well! People say that you are still lovelier than all those women -who take pains to appear lovely; that you outshine the most brilliant -and most admired women by a certain charm peculiar to yourself, and by -an air of noble simplicity which wins all hearts. They are beginning -anew to be surprised that you live in solitude, and—must I tell -everything?" -</p> -<p> -"Yes, absolutely everything." -</p> -<p> -"They say—I heard it with my own ears as I brushed against people who -had no idea that I was so near: 'What strange whim prevents her marrying -the Marquis della Serra?'" -</p> -<p> -"Go on, go on, marquis; say on; have no fear. They say, doubtless, that -I am the more ill-advised in that you are my lover?" -</p> -<p> -"No, signora, they do not say that," replied the marquis, in a -chivalrous tone; "and they will not say it, so long as I have a tongue -to deny it, and an arm to avenge your honor." -</p> -<p> -"Dear and generous friend!" exclaimed the princess, offering him her -hand; "you take that too seriously. I will wager that everybody believes -and says that we love each other." -</p> -<p> -"They may believe and say that I love you, for that is the truth; and -the truth always comes out sooner or later. That is why people know also -that you do not love me." -</p> -<p> -"Noble heart! But, now less than ever—— To-morrow I will talk -to you more freely on this subject than I have ever done. I will tell you -everything. This is neither a fitting time nor place. I must return to -the ball, where it is probable that my long absence causes surprise." -</p> -<p> -"Are you sufficiently rested and calm?" -</p> -<p> -"Yes; now I can resume my mask of impassibility." -</p> -<p> -"Ah! it costs you little to assume it, terrible woman!" cried the -marquis, rising and pressing convulsively to his breast the arm that she -had passed through his. "You are as invulnerable in the depths of your -heart as you are on the surface." -</p> -<p> -"Do not say that, marquis," said the princess, detaining him and looking -at him with a clear penetrating glance that sent a thrill through -Michel's whole being. "At this solemn moment of my life, that is a stab -of which you do not realize the depth. To-morrow, for the first time in -the twelve years that we have known without comprehending each other, -you will comprehend me perfectly! Come," she added, shaking her lovely -head, as if to banish serious thoughts, "let us go and dance! But first -let us say good-night to the naiad, so lovely in this light, and to this -charming grotto, which will soon be desecrated by the indifferent -multitude." -</p> -<p> -"Was it old Pier-Angelo who decorated it so beautifully?" inquired the -marquis, turning toward the naiad. -</p> -<p> -"No," replied the princess, "<i>it was he!</i>" -</p> -<p> -And hurrying from the room, as if impelled by a courageous resolution, -she suddenly drew the curtain aside and threw it upon Michel, who, by -unhoped-for good-fortune, was thus doubly concealed when she passed very -near him. -</p> -<p> -As soon as the disquietude due to his own situation as an interloper was -dispelled, he entered the grotto, and finding that he was quite alone -there, he sank upon the divan, beside the place the princess had -occupied. All that he had heard had agitated him strangely; but all the -reflections in which he might have indulged were overshadowed by the -last words that extraordinary woman had uttered. -</p> -<p> -Those words might have been an enigma to an absolutely humble and -innocent young man: "<i>No, it was not Pier-Angelo; it was he!</i>" What a -mysterious reply, or what extraordinary abstraction! But to Michel it -was not abstraction: that <i>he</i> did not relate to Pier-Angelo, but to -himself. To the princess, therefore, he was a person whom it was not -necessary to call by name, and she spoke of him in that concise and -emphatic way to a man who was in love with her. -</p> -<p> -That inexplicable sentence, and the reticence which had preceded it, her -refusal to admit that she loved the marquis, that <i>solemn moment of her -life</i> to which she had referred, that terrible shock which she said that -she had had during the evening, that important confidential -communication which she was to make the next day—did all of these -relate to Michel? -</p> -<p> -When he remembered the inexplicable glance she had bestowed upon him -when she saw him for the first time before the opening of the ball, he -was tempted to give way to the most insane presumptions. It is true -that, while she was talking with the marquis, there had been a moment -when her dreamy eyes had shone with no less extraordinary brilliancy; -but it seemed to Michel that their expression was not the same as when -they had looked into his. Glance for glance, he preferred the one that -had fallen to him. -</p> -<p> -Who could describe the marvellous and gorgeous romances which that rash -youth's brain developed during the next quarter of an hour? They were -all built upon the same foundation, the unheard-of genius of a young -artist who was ignorant of his own powers, and who had suddenly revealed -them in a brilliant and extensive piece of decorative work. The lovely -princess for whom that masterly work was undertaken had come often, by -stealth, to observe its progress, and during the week that the artist -had spent in the enchanted palace, taking his siesta and eating at -certain hours, in certain mysterious rooms, this invisible fairy had -come to gaze upon him, sometimes from behind a curtain, sometimes from a -rose-window in the wall. She had been smitten with love for his person -or with admiration for his talents—at any rate with an infatuation of -some sort for him; and that sentiment was so intense that she could not -summon the necessary self-possession to manifest it by words. Her glance -had revealed everything to him in spite of herself; and how should he, -trembling and bewildered as he was, find a way to tell her that he had -understood her? -</p> -<p> -He had reached that point when the Marquis della Serra, the princess's -adorer, suddenly reappeared before him and surprised him holding in his -hands the fan the princess had left on the divan, and gazing at it -without seeing it. -</p> -<p> -"I beg your pardon, my dear child," said the marquis, saluting him with -charming courtesy, "but I am compelled to deprive you of that object, -for which a lady has sent me. But if the Chinese pictures on this fan -interest you, I can place at your disposal a collection of interesting -vases and images from which you will be at liberty to choose." -</p> -<p> -"You are much too kind, signor marquis," replied Michel, offended by an -air of benevolence in which he fancied that he could detect an -impertinent assumption of superiority; "the fan does not interest me, -and Chinese painting is not to my taste." -</p> -<p> -The marquis perceived Michel's irritation, and rejoined with a smile: -</p> -<p> -"Presumably you have seen only coarse specimens of the art of that -people; but there are colored drawings, which, despite the elementary -simplicity of the process, are worthy to be compared with the Etruscan -vases in purity of outline and delightful artlessness of subjects. I -shall be happy to show you those that I own. It is a small pleasure -which I should be glad to afford you, but which would by no means pay my -debt to you, for I have taken very great pleasure in looking at your -paintings." -</p> -<p> -The marquis's tone was so sincere, and his face wore such an -unmistakable expression of kindliness, that Michel, attacked on his weak -side, could not refrain from saying ingenuously what he felt. -</p> -<p> -"I fear," he said, "that your lordship desires to encourage me by more -indulgence than I deserve; for I cannot suppose that you would stoop to -make sport of a young artist at the outset of his career." -</p> -<p> -"God forbid, my young friend!" replied the marquis, holding out his hand -with an irresistibly cordial air. "I know your father too well and -esteem him too highly not to be predisposed in your favor; that much I -must admit; but I can say to you in all sincerity that your paintings -disclose genius and give promise of talent. You see, I do not flatter -you; there are still great faults in your work, due to inexperience or -to overheated imagination: but there is a stamp of grandeur and -originality of conception which can neither be acquired nor lost. Work, -work, my young Michelangelo, and you will deserve the noble name you -bear." -</p> -<p> -"Are others of your opinion, signor marquis?" queried Michel, strongly -tempted to introduce the princess's name in the conversation. -</p> -<p> -"I think that everybody shares my opinion. Your defects are criticised -indulgently, your good qualities warmly praised; people are not -surprised at your brilliant performance when they learn that you are -from Catania and the son of Pier-Angelo Lavoratori, an excellent -workman, full of fire and spirit. We are loyal compatriots hereabout, -Michelangelo! We rejoice at the triumphs won by a child of the country, -and everyone generously claims a share in them. We esteem so highly -those who are born on our beloved soil, that we forget all distinctions -of rank, and nobles and peasants, artists and artisans, mutually -overlook their ancient prejudices and unite their prayers in a fervent -desire for national unity." -</p> -<p> -"Oho!" thought Michel, "the marquis is talking politics to me! I don't -know his opinions. Perhaps, if he has guessed the princess's feelings, he -proposes to try to ruin me! I will not trust him.—Will your lordship -tell me," he said aloud, "if the Princess of Palmarosa has deigned to -look at my paintings, and if she is not altogether dissatisfied with my -work?" -</p> -<p> -"The princess is enchanted, do not doubt it, my dear fellow," replied -the marquis, with extraordinary warmth; "and if she knew that you were -here she would come and tell you so herself. But she is too much engaged -at this moment for you to obtain speech of her. To-morrow, I doubt not, -she will give you the praise that you deserve, and you will lose nothing -by waiting. By the way," he said, turning again as he was about to leave -the grotto, "will you come and see my Chinese paintings, and some other -pictures not altogether without merit? I shall be delighted to see you -often. My country house is close at hand." -</p> -<p> -Michel bowed, as if to thank him and accept his invitation; but, -although he could not help being flattered by the marquis's gracious -manner toward him, he was depressed, crushed as it were. Evidently the -marquis was not jealous of him. He was not even disturbed. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap12"></a>XII -<br><br> -MAGNANI -</h4> - -<p> -Nothing is so mortifying as to have believed, though it were only for a -single hour, in the reality of a romantic, intoxicating adventure, and -to discover that you have simply been dreaming an absurd dream. Each new -reflection in which our young artist indulged cooled his brain and led -him back to the dismal field of probabilities. Upon what foundation had -he built so many castles in Spain? Upon a glance which he had doubtless -misinterpreted, and upon a remark which he must have misunderstood. All -the convincing arguments which offered a flat contradiction to his -extravagant conceit stood like a mountain in his path, and he felt that -he was falling back from heaven to earth. -</p> -<p> -"I am very foolish," he said to himself, "to give all my thoughts to a -problematical pair of eyes and to unintelligible words from a woman whom -I do not know, and whom consequently I do not love, when I have far more -important matters on hand. I must go and see if this marquis did not -deceive me, and if everybody really considers that my paintings show -genius in default of science. And yet," he continued, as he left the -grotto, "there is something that savors of mystery at the bottom of all -this, none the less. How does this marquis know me, when I never saw -him? How does it happen that he accosted me without hesitation, with -such familiarity, and called me by my Christian name, as if we were old -friends? To be sure, he may have been at some window, or in a church, or -on the public square on the day I walked through the city with my -father; or when I was looking at the aërial gardens of the Semiramis -who employs me, he may have been in one of those boudoirs, apparently so -tightly closed, whose windows look in that direction, and where he is -allowed, doubtless, to go and sigh hopelessly for her lovely capricious -eyes." -</p> -<p> -Michel walked through the crowd, and attracted no one's attention. His -features were not known, although his name had been on many lips, and -people talked freely of his work in his very ears. -</p> -<p> -"That is promising," said some. -</p> -<p> -"He still has much to learn," said others. -</p> -<p> -"There is much imagination and good taste; it pleases the eye and -interests the mind." -</p> -<p> -"True, but some of the arms are too long, and the legs too short; the -foreshortening shows extreme ignorance; the figures are making -impossible gestures." -</p> -<p> -"Agreed, but graceful, none the less. I tell you that this boy, for they -say he is a mere child, will go a long way." -</p> -<p> -"He is a child of our city." -</p> -<p> -"Indeed! well, he will go around it and no farther," retorted a -Neapolitan. -</p> -<p> -From first to last Michelangelo Lavoratori heard more kindly praise than -bitter criticism; but he felt many thorns while plucking many roses, and -he realized that success is a sweetmeat in which there is a plentiful -supply of gall. He was depressed at first; then, folding his arms across -his breast, and contemplating his work, without listening farther to the -opinion of others, he took account of its merits and defects with an -impartiality which triumphed over his self-love. -</p> -<p> -"They are all right," he said. "It promises, but pays nothing in -advance. I have already made up my mind to destroy these canvases when I -store them in the storerooms of the palace, and I will do better -hereafter. I have made an experiment upon myself, which I do not regret, -although I am not very well satisfied with it; but I shall know how to -profit by it, and whether this undertaking is favorable to my fortunes -or not, it shall be to my talent." -</p> -<p> -Having recovered all his lucidity of thought, and reflecting that he was -not one of those patrons who assisted the poor by purchasing a card of -admission, Michel determined to abstain from watching the fête and to -walk about alone in some quiet corner of the palace until he felt -absolutely calm and disposed to go home and to bed. His reason had -returned, but the fatigue of the preceding days had left a touch of -feverish excitement in his blood and in his nerves. He bent his steps -toward the Casino, whence he could go out upon the natural terraces of -the mountain. -</p> -<p> -The whole of that magnificent abode was illuminated and adorned with -flowers; the public were allowed free access to every part; but, after -once making the tour of the upper floors, the crowd ceased to go -thither. The bulk of the spectacle, the dancing, music, bustle, youth -and love, were below, in the great temporary ball-room. No one remained -in the upper galleries, on the graceful staircases, or in the vast -apartments, save an occasional majestic or mysterious group of solemn -personages discussing affairs of state, or great coquettes collecting -and detaining by their refined conversation certain chosen men around -their chairs. -</p> -<p> -Toward midnight all those who had not a direct interest in the affair, -or were not enjoying themselves, took their leave, and, the concourse -becoming less numerous, the fête was more enjoyable and more beautiful -to the eye. -</p> -<p> -Michel reached the princess's aërial garden by a small secret -staircase. At that elevation the breeze was very cool, and he felt -exceedingly refreshed and comfortable as he sat on the top step of that -staircase, near a fragrant flower-bed. The garden was deserted. Through -the silver gauze curtains he could see the interior of the princess's -apartments, also deserted. But Michel was not long alone; Magnani joined -him. -</p> -<p> -Magnani was one of the handsomest young men among the mechanics of the -city. He was industrious, intelligent, high-spirited, and honest. Michel -did not attempt to combat the friendly feeling he inspired, and in his -company forgot the embarrassment and distrust which he had felt from the -beginning with all the workmen with whom his father's position had -compelled him to associate. He suffered, poor boy, after years of -leisure, to be thrown with young men who were inclined to be a little -rough and noisy, who reproached him for looking down on them, and whom -he made vain efforts to look upon as his equals. -</p> -<p> -He confessed everything to Magnani, whom he saw to be the most -intelligent of them all, and in whose hearty outspokenness there was -nothing offensive or tyrannical. He confided to him all the ambitions, -all the weaknesses, all the intoxicating emotions, all the sufferings, -in a word, all the little secrets of his young heart. Magnani understood -him, excused him and talked sensibly to him. -</p> -<p> -"You are not wrong in my eyes, Michel," he said; "inequality of rank is -the law of society; everyone wishes to rise, no one wishes to descend. -If it were otherwise the people would remain in the brute stage. But the -people aspire to grow, thank God! and they do grow, whatever may be done -to prevent them. I myself strive to succeed, to possess something, to -reach a point where I shall not always have to obey, in a word, to be -free! But whatever happiness I may attain, it seems to me that I ought -not to forget the point from which I started. Unjust chance compels many -men to remain in poverty who deserve as well as I, perhaps much better, -to escape from it. That is why I shall never despise those whom I leave -behind me, and shall not cease to love them with all my heart and aid -them with all my power. -</p> -<p> -"I know that you shun your brothers in rank without despising them, -without hating them; you do not enjoy yourself with them, and yet you -would do them a favor on occasion; but beware! there is a touch of -ill-advised pride in this sort of patronizing affection, and, although -the day may come when it will be all right, remember that at the present -time it may well seem misplaced. You have more intelligence and more -knowledge of life than most of us, I agree; but is that a very real -superiority? Will not any poor devil who happens to have more wisdom, -virtue, or courage than you be entitled to consider himself your equal -at least, even if his speech is abrupt and his language vulgar? -</p> -<p> -"It will happen more than once in your career as an artist that you will -have to endure patiently the impertinence of the rich; indeed, if I am -not mistaken, an artist's life is likely to be a constant struggle to -shelter his individual merit from the contempt of the imaginary merit -attached to birth, power, and wealth. However, you are aiming for that -social level, without fear or shame; you accept the challenge in -advance, you propose to measure strength with the bitter vanity of the -great; how does it happen, pray, that that seems less offensive and less -unpleasant than the harmless familiarity of the humble? I could more -readily excuse the affront of an ignorant man than that of a coxcomb, -and I should feel more at ease amid the fisticuffs of my companions, -than when exposed to the graceful witticisms of my alleged superiors. -</p> -<p> -"Is it ennui that drives you away from us? Is it because we have few -ideas and little skill in expressing them? But perhaps we have something -else which would interest you if you understood it. The simplicity which -characterizes us has its noble side, which should arouse respect and -emotion in those who have lost it. Is it the faults or the vices that -are found among us that make you sick at heart? But are the upper -classes exempt from these same vices, which it pains me to see, and -which I am constantly on my guard against? Because they conceal them -better, or because in them debauchery of the mind colors and quickens -that of the body, does it follow that their vices are more estimable? In -vain do they, the fortunate ones of the age, cover their tracks; their -sins, their crimes become known to us, and often, almost always in fact, -they seek their confederates or their victims among us. -</p> -<p> -"Go on, Michel, work, hope, rise, but let it not be at the expense of -the spirit of justice and kindness; for in that case, although you might -grow in the opinion of some, you would descend proportionately in the -esteem of the majority." -</p> -<p> -"All that you say is true and wise," Michel replied, "but is the -conclusion well drawn? Ought I to pursue the career of art, and at the -same time associate exclusively, or at least by preference, with these -mechanics among whom fate willed that I should be born? If you reflect, -you will see that that is inconsistent, that the great works of art are -in the hands of the rich, that they alone own, purchase, and order -pictures, statues, urns, carvings, and engravings. To be employed by -them, one must needs live with them and as they live; otherwise -oblivion, obscurity and poverty are the lot of genius. Our ancestors, -the noble artists of the Renaissance and the Middle Ages, were artists -and artisans at once. Their position was well-defined, and was more or -less brilliant according to their talent. To-day all is changed. Artists -are more numerous and the rich are less powerful and magnificent. Taste -has become corrupted, the Mæcenases are no longer connoisseurs. Fewer -palaces are built; for one great collection that is formed, thirty are -sold piecemeal to pay debts, or because the heirs of the great families -prefer cash to monuments of genius. It is no longer enough, therefore, -to be a man of superior talent in order to find employment and honor in -one's profession. Chance, and, even more frequently, intrigue, cause -some to float, while others, who it may be are of far greater worth, are -submerged. -</p> -<p> -"However, I do not trust to chance, and my pride refuses to stoop to -intrigue. What shall I do, then? Shall I wait until some collector's eye -is attracted by a decorative figure, broadly conceived, on sized canvas, -and he is so impressed by it that he comes next day to the wineshop to -hunt me up and order a picture? Such good fortune may occur once in a -hundred times; but even then, on the day when it occurs to me, I shall -owe my bread to the patronage of the rich man, who is beginning to be -interested in me. Sooner or later I must bow before him and beg him to -recommend me to others. Would it not be better for me, at the earliest -possible moment, as soon as I am sure of myself, to quit the ladder and -the apron, to assume the external aspect of a man who does not beg, and -to present myself, with my head erect, among the rich? If I go out of -the wineshop arm-in-arm with the merry knights of the saw and trowel, it -is evident that I cannot enter the palace as a guest, but as a paid -workman; and at this moment, if I should venture to accost one of these -lovely women and ask her to dance, I should be spat upon and turned out -of doors within a quarter of an hour. The time must come, however, when -they will make overtures to me, and when my talent will be a title -capable of contending on equal terms with that of duke or marquis for -the triumphs of this world. But only on condition that my habits and my -manners bear the stamp and seal of aristocracy. I must be what they call -a man of good breeding; otherwise it would avail me nothing to be a man -of genius; no one would believe it. -</p> -<p> -"I shall not make my way as an artist, therefore, except by destroying -the artisan in me. I must succeed in becoming the free possessor of my -own works, and in selling them as an owner does, instead of executing -them like a day-laborer. Well! for that I must have reputation, and in -these days reputation does not go about looking for an artist in his -garret; he is obliged to acquire it himself by his own exertions, -consorting with those who award it, demanding it as a right and not -imploring it as alms. Tell me, Magnani, how I am to escape this dilemma! -And yet it pains me terribly, I assure you, to think that I must in some -sense deny the race of my fathers, and that I must submit to be accused -of idiocy and impudence by men whose brother and friend I feel that I -am. You see that I must go away from a country where my father's -popularity would make this separation more offensive to others and more -painful to myself than elsewhere. I came here to perform a duty—to -expiate my heedlessness at Rome; but when my task is done, I must return -thither, and from there travel the world over, in the disguise, perhaps -premature, of a free man. If I do not do it, farewell to my whole -future; I may as well renounce it to-day." -</p> -<p> -"Yes! yes! I understand," said Magnani; "you must set yourself free at -any price. The journeyman's work is slavery; the work of an artist is -the title of manhood. You are right, Michel; it is your right, -consequently your duty and your destiny. But how dismal and cruel the -destiny of an intelligent man is! One must cast off his family, leave -his native land, act a sort of comedy to induce strangers to accept him -as one of themselves, assume a mask in order to receive the laurel -wreath, take up arms against the poor who condemn him and the rich who -are loath to receive him! Why, it is horrible! it is enough to disgust -one with glory! In God's name, what is glory that one should purchase it -at that price?" -</p> -<p> -"Glory, as it is commonly understood, is nothing at all, I agree," -replied Michel, warmly, "if it is nothing more than the trifling noise a -man may make in the world. Shame to him who denies his blood and -sacrifices his affections to gratify his vanity! But glory, according to -my conception, is not that! It is the manifestation and development of -the genius one bears within oneself. In default of enlightened judges, -warm admirers, stern critics, and even jealous detractors—in -default of opportunity to enjoy all the advantages, to receive all the -counsels, to undergo all the persecution which follow in the wake of -renown—genius withers and dies in discouragement, apathy, doubt or -ignorance of itself. Thanks to all the triumphs, all the struggles, all -the wounds which await us in a lofty career, we acquire the power to -make the most glorious use of our capabilities, and to leave a deep, -ineffaceable, forever fruitful trace in the world of thought. Ah! he who -truly loves his art desires glory for his works, not in order that his -name may live, but that his art may not die. And what would it matter to -me that I had not the art of my patron saint Michelangelo, if I should -leave to posterity an anonymous work worthy to be compared to the -<i>Last Judgment</i>! To make oneself talked about is more often a -source of martyrdom than of intoxicating pleasure. The serious-minded -artist seeks that martyrdom and endures it patiently. He knows that it -is the harsh condition of his success; and his success, not in being -applauded and understood by all, but in producing and leaving behind him -something in which he himself has faith. But what is the matter, -Magnani? You are sad, and you are not listening to me." -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap13"></a>XIII -<br><br> -AGATHA -</h4> - -<p> -"Yes, I am listening to you, Michel, I am listening attentively," -Magnani replied, "and I am sad because I feel the force of your -reasoning. You are not the first person with whom I have talked of these -matters. I have known more than one young mechanic who aspired to drop -his trade, to become a merchant, lawyer, priest or artist; and it is -true enough that the number of these deserters increases every year. -Whoever feels that he possesses intelligence instantly becomes conscious -of ambition; and hitherto I have fought such tendencies vigorously in -others and in myself. My parents, who are proud and obstinate like the -prudent, hard-working old people that they are, taught me, as a -religious precept, to remain true to family traditions—to the customs -of my rank; and my heart approved of that strict and simple code of -morals. That is why I have resolved not to seek success outside of my -trade, though I sometimes have to crush my own impulses. That is why I -have always roughly trampled upon the self-love of my young comrades as -soon as I saw it sprouting; that is why my first words of sympathy and -regard for you were warnings and reproaches. It seems to me now that, -until I had you to deal with, I was in the right, because the others -were really vain, and their vanity tended to make them selfish and -ungrateful. So that I felt fully justified in rebuking them, laughing at -them and preaching to them by turns. But with you I feel that I am weak, -because you are stronger than I in theory. You depict art in such grand -and beautiful colors, you feel so strongly the noble character of your -mission, that I dare not oppose you any longer. It seems to me that you -have a right to break down every obstacle in order to succeed, even your -heart, as I broke mine in order to remain obscure. And yet my conscience -is not satisfied with this solution. It does not seem to me to be a -solution. Come, Michel, you are more learned than I; tell me which of us -is wrong before God!" -</p> -<p> -"My friend, I believe that we are both right," replied Michel. "I -believe that at this moment we represent between us what is taking -place, contradictorily but simultaneously, in the minds of the common -people in all civilized nations. You plead for sentiment. Your paternal -feeling is holy and sacred. It is opposed to my idea; but my idea is -grand and true; it is as sacred in its passion for combat, as your -sentiment in its theory of renunciation and silence. You are following -your duty, I am enforcing my right. Bear with me, Magnani, for I respect -you, and each of our ideals is incomplete until it is completed by the -other." -</p> -<p> -"Yes, you speak of abstract ideas," rejoined Magnani, thoughtfully, "and -I think that I understand you; but in the concrete the question is not -solved. The society of the present day is struggling between two reefs, -resignation and resistance. Through love for my class I choose to suffer -and protest with it. From the same motive, perhaps, you choose to fight -and triumph in its name. These two methods of action seem to exclude and -condemn each other. Before the divine tribunal which will prevail, -sentiment or idea? You say, both. But on earth, where men are not -governed by divine laws, how can we possibly make those two extremes -harmonize? I seek in vain a means." -</p> -<p> -"But why seek it?" said Michel; "it does not exist on earth at this -moment. The people may free themselves and make themselves famous as a -whole by glorious battles, by good morals, by civic virtues, but each -individual of the people has his individual destiny; the destiny of the -man who feels that he was born to touch hearts is to live on fraternal -terms with the simple; of him who feels that his calling is to enlighten -men's minds, to seek light, though it be in solitude, though it be among -the enemies of his race. The great masters of art worked, from a -material standpoint, for wealth, but, from a moral standpoint, for all -mankind; for the poorest of the poor can obtain from their works a -revelation and appreciation of the beautiful. Let every man follow his -inspiration therefore, and bow to the mysterious designs of Providence -with respect to him! My father loves to sing rollicking ballads in -taverns; he electrifies his companions with them; the stories that he -tells sitting on a bench at a street corner, his cheery humor, and his -ardor in singing or in the common toil inspire all those who see and -hear him. Heaven has endowed him with the power of acting directly, by -the simplest means, on the vital fibres of his brethren, zeal in labor, -expansiveness in the hours of rest. For my part, I have a liking for -solitary temples, sumptuous, dark old palaces, venerable masterpieces, -studious reverie, the refined enjoyments of art. The society of -patricians has no terrors for me. I consider them too degenerate to be -feared; their names have for me a poesy which makes of them mere -figures, ghosts, if you choose, and I love to walk smiling among those -ghosts who do not frighten me. I love the dead; I live with the past; -and from the past I acquire my idea of the future; but I confess that I -have but little notion of the present, that the precise moment of my -existence has no existence for me, because I am always delving in the -past, and pushing all realities forward. In that way I transform them -and idealize them. You see that I should not reach the same ends as my -father and you, even if I used the same means. It is not in me to do -it." -</p> -<p> -"Michel," said Magnani, striking his forehead, "you have won! I must -absolve you and spare you my remonstrances henceforth! But I am -suffering, I am suffering terribly! Your words cause me very great -pain!" -</p> -<p> -"How so, my dear Magnani?" -</p> -<p> -"That is my secret, and yet I tell it to you without betraying its -sanctity. Can you possibly suppose that I have not some legitimate -ambition, some secret, deep-rooted desire to set myself free from the -servitude in which I live? Don't you know that all men have at the -bottom of their hearts the desire to be happy? And do you suppose that -the consciousness of a joyless duty causes me to wallow in delight? -</p> -<p> -"Listen and judge of my martyrdom. I have loved madly for five years a -woman whose rank in society places her as far above me as heaven is -above the earth. Having always considered it impossible that she should -ever bestow so much as a compassionate glance upon me, I cultivated a -sort of gloomy satisfaction in my suffering, my poverty, my forced -nullity among my fellowmen. With a bitter feeling at my heart, I -determined not to imitate those who are determined to succeed and who -expose themselves to the risk of being scoffed at from above and from -below. If I were one of them, I thought, perhaps the day would come when -I might gallantly raise to my lips the hand of her whom I adore. But as -soon as I opened my mouth to reveal the mystery of my passion, I should -undoubtedly be spurned, laughed at, trampled under foot; I prefer to -remain lost in the dust of my trade, and never to carry my insane -presumption so far as her feet. I prefer that she should continue to -believe it impossible that I could ever dream of aspiring to her. At all -events, while I wear the livery of the mechanic, she will respect the -suffering of which she knows nothing; she will not intensify it by -discovering it, by blushing because she inspired it, by deeming it -necessary to protect herself from it. Now, she passes me as she passes -anything which is of no consequence to her, but which she does not -consider that she has the right to spurn and crush. She bows to me, -smiles at me, and speaks to me as to a being of a different nature from -her own: that instinct is not manifest, but it is in her; I feel it and -I understand it. At all events, she does not think of humiliating me, -she would not do it; and the less reason I have for priding myself upon -the possibility of pleasing her, the less do I fear that she will insult -me by her pity. All this would change if I were a painter or a poet, if -I could present her with her portrait done by my trembling hand, or with -a sonnet indited by me in her honor; she would smile differently, she -would speak differently. There would be reserve, mockery, or compassion -in her kindness, according as I should have succeeded or failed in my -artistic efforts. Oh! how far that would remove me from her, how much -lower it would leave me than I now am! I prefer to be the mechanic who -renders her a service by selling her the use of his arms, rather than -the beginner in art to be patronized as a weakling or pitied as a -madman!" -</p> -<p> -"I approve what you have done," said Michel, who had become pensive in -his turn. "I like your pride, and I think that it would be a good -example to follow even in my position and with the projects which I -entertain, if I were tempted to seek love beyond certain obstacles, -which, though absurd, are enormous!" -</p> -<p> -"Oh! it is very different with you, Michel. The obstacles which would -exist between you and a great lady to-day will quickly be surmounted, -and, as you yourself have said, the day will come when those women will -make advances to you. Those words, which escaped from your heart, seemed -to me presumptuous and absurd at first. Now that I understand you they -seem perfectly natural and legitimate to me. Yes, you will win the favor -of women of the most exalted rank, because you are in the bloom of -youth, because your beauty is of a refined and somewhat effeminate type, -which gives you a resemblance to the men who are born to a life of -idleness; because you are accustomed to fashionable society, because you -have the instinct of good manners and seem perfectly at home in the -clothes you wear; for all these things, added to genius and success, are -essential to induce proud women to overlook the artist's plebeian -origin. Yes, you will be able to appear a man in their eyes, while I -should disguise myself to no purpose; I should never be anything but a -mechanic, and my rough shell would show in spite of me. It is too late -for me to begin: I am twenty-six years old! But I thrill with strange -emotion when I think that, five years ago, when I was still as pliable -as wax, if someone had encouraged and ennobled in my eyes the instincts -that were springing to life within me, if someone had spoken to me as -you have just done, I might have followed a course not unlike yours, and -have started upon a soul-stirring career! My mind was open to the -sentiment of the beautiful; I could sing like the nightingale, without -understanding my own notes, but with the power of untaught inspiration. -I could read, understand, and remember many books; I understood nature, -too; I could read in the sky and in the broad expanse of the sea, in the -verdure of the forests and the blue-capped mountains. It seems to me -that I might have been a musician, or a poet, or a landscape painter. -And love was already speaking to my heart; already she had appeared to -me from whom I cannot detach my thoughts. What a stimulus for me if I -had surrendered to my violent temptations!—But I forced them all back -into my heart, fearing to be false to my kindred and friends, fearing to -degrade myself in their eyes and my own by seeking to rise. I have -inured myself to work; my hands have become callous, and my mind as -well. My chest has increased in size, it is true, and my heart has kept -pace with it, like a polypus which feeds upon me and absorbs all my -vitality; but my brow has retreated, I am sure of it; my imagination has -collapsed; poesy is dead within me; I have nothing left except the -reasoning power, loyalty, resolution, and self-sacrifice—that is to -say, suffering! Ah! Michel, spread your wings and leave this land of -sorrows! fly, like a bird, to the domes of palaces and temples, and from -that height look down upon this wretched people, grovelling and groaning -at your feet. Pity me at least, love me if you can, and never do -anything which can lower you in your own eyes." -</p> -<p> -Magnani was deeply moved; but suddenly his emotion changed its nature; -he started, hastily turned his head and put his hand on the branches of -a dense clump of rose myrtle, which masked a dark recess in the wall -behind him. That curtain of verdure, which he put aside with a -convulsive movement, concealed the entrance to a secret passage, which, -as it presumably led only to the servants' quarters, was not open to the -princess's guests. Michel, surprised at Magnani's movement, glanced into -the passage, which was dimly lighted by a dying lamp, the farther end -being in total darkness. It seemed to him that he saw a white figure -gliding through the shadows, but it was so vague that it was hardly -perceptible, and it might have been an illusion caused by the sudden -introduction of a brighter light when the bushes were put aside. He was -about to enter; but Magnani detained him, saying: -</p> -<p> -"We have no right to watch what takes place in the reserved portions of -this sanctuary. My first curious movement was made without reflection; I -thought that I heard a light step close beside me, and—I was -dreaming, doubtless!—I fancied that I saw this bush move. But it -was an illusion due to the fear that seized upon me at the thought that -I was on the point of letting my secret pass my lips. I must leave you, -Michel; these outpourings of the heart are dangerous, they upset me; I -feel that I must withdraw into myself and give my reason time to allay -the tempests raised in my breast by your words and your example." -</p> -<p> -Magnani hurried away, and Michel returned to the ball. The confession of -his young companion, that he was beset by an insane love for a great -lady, had reawakened in him an emotion which he thought that he had -conquered. He hovered about the dancers, trying to divert his thoughts, -for he felt that his folly was as dangerous for the moment as Magnani's. -Many years must pass before he could consider that his genius had placed -him on the level of the most exalted social ranks; so that he derived an -agonizing sort of amusement from watching the youngest of the dancers -and dreamily seeking among them one whom he might some day gaze upon -with eyes inflamed with love and presumption. Probably he did not -discover her, for he transferred his fancy from one to another, and, as -one risks nothing by being hard to please in that variety of castles in -Spain, he continued to seek, and to discuss with himself the comparative -merits of those youthful beauties. -</p> -<p> -But in the midst of these aberrations of his brain he suddenly saw the -Princess of Palmarosa pass. He had been careful hitherto to remain at -some distance from the dancing groups, and to keep well out of sight -behind the benches of the amphitheatre; now he involuntarily approached; -and, although the crowd was not dense enough to justify or conceal his -presence, he walked on until he was almost in the front row, among -persons each nobler and richer than his neighbor. This time his -instinctive pride did not warn him of the perils of his situation. An -invincible magnet drew him on and detained him: the princess was -dancing. -</p> -<p> -Doubtless it was for form's sake, to satisfy the proprieties, or from -good nature, for she simply walked, and did not seem to take the -slightest pleasure in it. But she walked better than the others danced, -and, without a thought of striving to be graceful, she displayed every -variety of grace. That woman really possessed an extraordinary charm -which penetrated like a subtle perfume, and finally dominated or effaced -everything about her. One would have said that she was a queen in the -midst of her court, in some kingdom where moral and physical perfection -reigned. -</p> -<p> -It was the chastity of the celestial virgins with their omnipotent -serenity—a pallor in nowise extreme or sickly—which denoted the -absence of intense emotions. People said that the secret of that -mysterious life was either systematic abstinence from excitement or -extraordinary indifference. And yet her appearance was not that of a -lifeless statue. Kindness of heart lent animation to her somewhat -absent-minded glance and gave an indescribable sweetness to her faint -smile. -</p> -<p> -In the glare of those countless lights she appeared to Michel an -entirely different woman from her he had seen in the grotto an hour -earlier, when the peculiar light or his own imagination had made her -appear a little terrifying to him. Now her indifference was calm rather -than depressed, habitual rather than forced. She had recovered just -enough animation to vanquish the heart and leave the passions -undisturbed. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap14"></a>XIV -<br><br> -BARBAGALLO -</h4> - -<p> -If Michel could have removed his eyes from the object of his -contemplation, he would have seen his father playing a flageolet in the -orchestra a few steps away. Pier-Angelo had a passion for art in any -form in which he could assimilate it. He loved and understood music, and -played several instruments by instinct in almost perfect tone and time. -Having attended to several details of the fête which had been placed -under his supervision, and having nothing more to do, he had been unable -to resist the desire to mingle with the musicians, who knew him well, -and who took pleasure in his gayety, his attractive, kindly face, and -the enthusiasm with which he produced from time to time a shrill -<i>ritornello</i> on his instrument. When the minstrel whose place he had -taken returned from the buffet, Pier-Angelo seized upon the vacant -cymbals, and, toward the end of the quadrille, was sawing with great -delight the heavy strings of the bass-viol. -</p> -<p> -He was enchanted above all things to play for the princess, who, having -espied his bald head on the platform among the orchestra, bestowed upon -him from a distance a smile and an imperceptible friendly nod which the -old man stored away in his heart. Michelangelo would have considered -perhaps that his father gave his time too lavishly to the service of his -dear patroness, and did not maintain strictly enough his dignity as an -artisan. But at that moment Michel, who believed that he had forgotten -or been cured of the effect of Princess Agatha's glance, had fallen so -completely under its influence that he cared for nothing but to -encounter it again. -</p> -<p> -His only fine clothes, which a lingering remnant of ineradicable -aristocratic feeling had led him to bring through the gorges of Ætna in -a travelling-bag slung over his shoulder, were of fashionable cut and in -good taste. His face, too, was so handsome and so noble that there -certainly was nothing to which exception could be taken in his person or -in his dress. And yet his presence in the circle immediately surrounding -the princess had, for some moments past, offended the eyes of Master -Barbagallo, the majordomo of the palace. -</p> -<p> -That individual, ordinarily the mildest and most humane of men, had -nevertheless his antipathies and his spasms of comical indignation. He -had recognized Michel's talent; but the young man's impatient air when -he ventured to address some trivial remark to him, and the small respect -he had seemed to entertain for his authority, had caused the majordomo -to look upon the painter with distrust and something like aversion. -According to his ideas—and he had made a special study of titles and -heraldry—nobody was noble but the <i>nobles</i>, and he looked upon -all other classes of society with silent but unconquerable disdain. He was -shocked and offended, therefore, to see the haughty palace of his -masters thrown open to what he called a mob—tradesmen, lawyers, -Jewesses, suspicious travellers, students, petty officers; in a word, to -anyone who chose to pay a gold-piece for the privilege of dancing in the -princess's quadrille. This subscription fête was a new invention, -imported from abroad, and it overturned all his notions of decorum. -</p> -<p> -The retirement in which the princess had always lived had assisted this -worthy majordomo to retain all his illusions and all his prejudices -touching the excellence of castes. That is why he became more and more -distressed, restless and morose as the night advanced. He had seen the -princess promise a contra-dance to a young lawyer who had had the -audacity to invite her; and when he saw Michelangelo Lavoratori gazing -at her at such close quarters with enraptured eyes, he wondered if that -dauber of canvas would not also enter the lists to dance with her. -</p> -<p> -"The world has turned upside down in twenty years, I see," he said to -himself; "if such a ball as this had been given here in Prince Dionigi's -time, things would have been managed differently. Each class would have -kept apart from the rest; they would have formed different groups, and -no group would have mingled with its superiors or inferiors. But here -all ranks are jumbled together; it's a bazar—an infernal -revel!—But, by the way," it occurred to him, "what is that little -painter doing here? He didn't pay any money; he has not even the right -which anyone can buy to-day, alas! at the door of the noble Palmarosa -palace. He is only admitted here as a workman. If he chooses to play the -tambourine beside his old father, or look after the lamps, let him stand -back from where he is now. I will take down his conceit a peg, and it -won't do him any good to play at being a great painter. I'll send him -back to his sizing. It's a little lesson that I owe him, as his old -madman of a father spoils him and doesn't know how to manage him." -</p> -<p> -Armed with this noble resolution, Messire Barbagallo, who dared not -approach the princess's circle himself, tried to attract Michel's -attention from a distance by making innumerable signs, of which the -young man remained utterly unconscious. Thereupon the majordomo, seeing -that the contra-dance was nearly at an end, and that the princess could -not fail to see young Lavoratori, who had planted himself so audaciously -in her path, determined to accomplish his purpose by a coup d'état. He -glided among the spectators like a hunting-dog in a field of grain, and, -gently passing his arm through the young man's, he tried to lead him -aside without any noise or disturbance. -</p> -<p> -At that moment Michel had met the glance from the princess which he had -been seeking and awaiting so long. -</p> -<p> -That glance had thrilled him like an electric shock, veiled though it -was by instinctive prudence; and when he felt some one grasp his arm, -without deigning to turn his head to ascertain with whom he had to do, -he repelled with an energetic dig of the elbow the indiscreet hand that -had touched him. -</p> -<p> -"What are you doing here, Master Michel?" said the indignant majordomo -in his ear. -</p> -<p> -"What business is it of yours?" he replied, turning his back and -shrugging his shoulders. -</p> -<p> -"You ought not to be here," replied Barbagallo, on the point of losing -patience, but restraining himself sufficiently to speak in a low tone. -</p> -<p> -"It is all right for you to be here, I suppose!" replied Michel, glaring -at him with eyes inflamed with wrath, hoping to get rid of him by -intimidation. -</p> -<p> -But Barbagallo had a certain courage of his own; he would have submitted -to be spat upon rather than fail in the smallest degree in what he -conceived to be his duty. -</p> -<p> -"I am doing my duty," he said; "go and do yours. I am sorry to disturb -you; but everyone must keep in his place. Oh! don't be insolent! Where -is your card of admission? You haven't one, I know. If you are allowed -to see the fête, it is only on condition that you look after the buffet -or the lights, like your father; let us see, what were you told to do? -Go and find the butler, and he will tell you what to do; and if he -doesn't need you, go away, instead of staring ladies out of -countenance." -</p> -<p> -Master Barbagallo continued to speak so low that nobody could hear him -save Michel; but his wrathful eyes and his convulsive gestures were -eloquent enough, and people were already beginning to look at them. -Michel had fully determined to retire, for he knew that he had no way of -resisting the order. The idea of striking an old man was most -distasteful to him, and yet never before had the blood of the common -people itched more fiercely in the hollow of his hand. He would have -yielded smilingly to an impertinence couched in polite phraseology; but, -not knowing what to do to rescue his dignity from that absurd attack, he -felt as if he should die of rage and shame. -</p> -<p> -Barbagallo was already threatening, under his breath, to call for help -to overcome his resistance. The persons who were nearest them glanced -with an expression of satirical surprise at this strange young man at -odds with the majordomo of the palace. The ladies gathered up their -skirts and drew back into the crowd, to be farther away from him. They -thought that he might be a pickpocket who had found his way into the -ball-room, or some insolent intriguer who was about to cause a scandal. -</p> -<p> -But just as poor Michel was on the point of swooning with wrath and -shame, for the blood was already roaring in his ears, and his legs were -giving way, a faint cry, not two yards away, drove all the blood back to -his heart. It seemed to him that he had heard that cry before, a cry of -grief, surprise and affection, all in one, in the midst of his sleep on -the evening of his arrival at the palace. Obeying an instinctive impulse -of confidence and hope, which he could not explain to himself, he turned -in the direction of that friendly voice and darted forward at random, as -if to seek refuge on the breast from which it issued. Suddenly he found -himself close beside the princess, with his hand in hers, which pressed -it tremblingly but warmly. That movement and that expression of their -mutual emotion were as rapid as the lightning flash. The amazed -spectators opened a passage for the princess, who walked across the -hall, leaning upon Michel, leaving her partner in the middle of his -final bow, the majordomo in utter dismay, wishing that he could sink -through the floor, and the spectators laughing at the good man's -discomfiture, and concluding that Michel was some young foreigner of -distinction recently arrived at Catania, to whom the princess made haste -to atone, with graceful tact and without useless words, for her -majordomo's blunder. -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> -<a id="figure02"></a> -<br> -<img src="images/figure02.jpg" width="300" alt="300"> -<div class="caption"> -<p><i>THE BALL AT THE PALMAROSA -PALACE.</i></p> -<p class="smaller"> -<i>When Signora Agatha reached the foot of the -great staircase, where there were few people, she -had recovered her tranquillity; but Michel was -trembling more than ever.</i></p> -</div></div> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -When Signora Agatha reached the foot of the great staircase, where there -were few people, she had recovered her tranquillity; but Michel was -trembling more than ever. -</p> -<p> -"Doubtless she is going to show me the door herself," he thought, -"without allowing anyone to divine her purpose. She is too great and too -kind not to rescue me from the insults of her servants and the contempt -of her guests; but the advice she is going to give me will be none the -less deadly. This probably means the ruin of all my future prospects, -and the wreck of the life I have dreamed of will lie here on the -threshold of her palace." -</p> -<p> -"Michelangelo Lavoratori," said the princess, putting her bouquet to her -face to deaden the sound of her voice, which might have reached some ear -on the alert with curiosity, "I have discovered to-day that you are a -genuine artist, and that a noble career lies open before you. A few more -years of earnest work, and you may become a master. Then the world will -receive you, as you deserve to be received to-day, for the man who has -nothing more than well-founded hopes of his personal glory is at least -the equal of those who have only the memory of the glory of their -ancestors. But tell me if you are in haste to make your appearance in -this society which you have seen to-night, and whose spirit you can -already divine? If you wish it, I have but to say a word, to raise my -hand. All the connoisseurs here noticed your figures, and asked me your -name, your age, and your antecedents. I have only to present you to my -friends, to declare that you are an artist, and from this day you will -be so considered, and practically emancipated from your present social -position. Your father's humble profession, far from injuring you, will -be an added source of interest; for the world is always surprised to see -a poor man born with genius, as if artistic genius had not always sprung -from the common people, and as if our caste were still fruitful in -superior men. Answer me, Michel; do you wish to sup to-night at my -table, by my side, or do you prefer to sup in the buttery, beside your -father?" -</p> -<p> -This last question was put so concisely that Michel thought that he -could read his sentence in it. "This is either a delicately administered -but most severe lesson that I am receiving," he thought, "or else it is -a test. I will come forth pure!"—And at once recovering his wits, -which had been violently agitated a moment before, he replied proudly: -</p> -<p> -"Signora, most fortunate are they who sit at your side and whom you -treat as friends! But the first time that I sup with persons in -aristocratic society, it will be at my own table, with my father sitting -opposite me. That is equivalent to saying that it will never happen, or -that, in any event, many years still separate me from glory and wealth. -Meanwhile, I will sup with my father in the buttery of your palace, to -prove to you that I am not proud and that I accept your invitation." -</p> -<p> -"Your reply gratifies me," said the princess; "continue to be a man of -spirit, Michel, and destiny will smile upon you; remember that I predict -it!" -</p> -<p> -As she spoke, she looked him in the face, for she had dropped his arm -and was about to leave him. Michel was dazzled by the flames that gushed -from her eyes, usually so soft and dreamy, but animated for him -alone—that was certain now—with an irresistible affection. -And yet he was not disturbed by it as before. Either it was a different -expression, or he had misunderstood it at first. What he had taken for -passion was affection, rather, and the desire which had swept over him -like a flood changed to a sort of enthusiastic adoration, as chaste as -she who inspired it. -</p> -<p> -"But listen," added the princess, motioning to the Marquis della Serra, -who passed at that moment, to give her his arm, and thus admitting him -to a share in the conversation: "although there is nothing humiliating -to a sagacious mind in eating in the buttery, and although there is -nothing intensely exhilarating in supping in the salon, I desire that -you should do neither. I have reasons for that which are entirely -personal to you, and which your father must have explained to you. You -have already attracted attention to-day by your work. Avoid showing -yourself freely for a few days more, but without concealing yourself -with an affectation of mystery, which course would have its dangers. I -could have wished that you had not come to this fête. You should have -understood why I did not order a card of admission to be given to you; -and your father tried to remove any desire that you might have to be -present by telling you that, if you remained, you would be charged with -some duty which would not suit you. Why did you come? Tell me frankly: -are you very fond of spectacles like this? You must have seen as -beautiful ones at Rome?" -</p> -<p> -"No, signora, I have never seen any that were beautiful at all, for you -were not present." -</p> -<p> -"He wishes to make me believe," said the princess, with a smile of the -utmost amiability, addressing the marquis, "that he came to the ball on -my account. Do you believe it, marquis?" -</p> -<p> -"I am sure of it," replied the marquis, pressing Michel's hand -affectionately. "Let us see, Master Michelangelo, when are you coming to -see my pictures and dine with me?" -</p> -<p> -"He also declares," said the princess, hastily, "that he will never dine -with people of our sort without his father." -</p> -<p> -"Why this exaggerated timidity, pray?" said the marquis, fixing his eyes -upon Michel's with an expression of penetrating intelligence, in which a -touch of severity was mingled with kindliness; "can it be that Michel is -afraid that you or I would make him blush because he is not yet as -respectable as his father? You are young, my boy, and no one can expect -to find in you the virtues for which the noble-hearted Pier-Angelo is -admired and loved; but your intelligence and your excellent sentiments -are enough to justify you in going anywhere with confidence, without -being compelled to efface yourself in your father's shadow. However, -have no fear; your father has already promised to come to dine with me -the day after to-morrow. Will it be convenient for you to accompany him -on that day?" -</p> -<p> -Michel having accepted, struggling the while to conceal his confusion -and surprise beneath an affected ease of manner, the marquis added: -</p> -<p> -"Now allow me to tell you that we shall dine together on the sly: your -father was accused of conspiracy long ago; I am an object of suspicion -to the government; we still have enemies who may accuse us again of -conspiring." -</p> -<p> -"Well, good-night, Michelangelo, we shall meet again soon," said the -princess, observing Michel's bewilderment; "be charitable enough to -believe that we know how to appreciate real merit, and that we did not -wait for yours to be revealed before discovering your father's. Your -father has been our friend for many years, and if he does not eat at my -table every day, it is because I fear to expose him to persecution by -his enemies by making him conspicuous." -</p> -<p> -Michel was perturbed and out of countenance, although he would not for -anything in the world have given the impression that he was dazzled by -the sudden favors of fortune; but at heart he felt humiliated rather -than overjoyed by the affectionate lesson he had received. "For it was a -lesson," he said to himself, when the princess and the marquis, being -accosted by other guests, had walked away, after bidding him good-night -with a friendly nod; "these wise and philosophical grandees gave me to -understand clearly enough that their affability is a mark of homage -bestowed upon my father rather than myself. I am invited on his account, -not he on mine; so that it is not my merit which procures me these marks -of distinction, but my father's virtuous qualities. O God! forgive me -for the proud thoughts that led me to desire to enter upon my career -apart from him! I was mad, I was wicked; I have received a most useful -lesson from these great nobles, upon whom I sought to impose respect for -my origin, and who have, or pretend to have, a more heartfelt respect -for it than I have myself." -</p> -<p> -But the young artist's wounded pride soon recovered from this blow. "I -have it!" he cried, after musing a few moments. "These people are deep -in politics. They are still conspiring. Probably they did not even take -the trouble to look at my paintings, or else they know nothing about -art. They pet and flatter my father, who is one of their tools, and they -are trying to gain possession of me, too. Ah well! if they wish to -arouse Sicilian patriotism in my bosom, let them go about it in a -different way and not attempt to exploit my youth without advantage to -my reputation! I see their object; but they shall learn to know me. I am -willing to be the victim of a noble cause, but not the dupe of other -people's ambition." -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap15"></a>XV -<br><br> -ROMANTIC LOVE -</h4> - -<p> -"But," said Michel to himself, "are the patricians all alike in this -island? Does the age of gold still flourish in Catania, and do the -servants alone retain the pride of prejudice?" -</p> -<p> -The majordomo had just passed and saluted him with a depressed and -crestfallen air. Doubtless he had been reprimanded, or expected to be. -</p> -<p> -Michel was passing through the dressing-room, resolved to go home, when -he saw Pier-Angelo holding the wadded great-coat of an old noble in a -light wig, who was feeling about for the arm-holes, shaking as with -palsy. Michel blushed at that sight, and quickened his pace. In his -opinion, his father was much too good-natured, and the man who allowed -himself to be waited upon thus gave an explicit contradiction to the -conjectures in which he had just been indulging concerning the -noble-hearted generosity of the great. -</p> -<p> -But he did not escape the humiliation he shunned. "Ah!" cried -Pier-Angelo, "there he is, monsignor! Look, you were asking me if he was -a handsome boy; look at him!" -</p> -<p> -"Ah! upon my word, the rascal is well turned, and no mistake!" said the -old noble, standing in front of Michel, and eying him from head to foot, -as he wrapped his coat about him. "I am much pleased with your -decorative work, my boy; I noticed it particularly. I was just telling -your father, whom I have known a long while, that you will deserve to -succeed him some day in his trade; and if you don't go about town too -much, you'll never land in the gutter. At all events, if you ever do get -there, it will be your own fault. Call my carriage for me. Be quick; -there is quite a cool wind to-night, and it's a bad thing when one has -just been in such a suffocating crowd." -</p> -<p> -"A thousand pardons, your excellency," rejoined Michel, frantic with -rage. "I am afraid of the wind myself." -</p> -<p> -"What does he say?" the old man asked Pier-Angelo. -</p> -<p> -"He says that your excellency's carriage is at the door," replied Pier, -struggling hard to keep from roaring with laughter. -</p> -<p> -"Very good; I will hire him by the day, with you, when I have work for -you." -</p> -<p> -"Oh! father!" cried Michel, as soon as the old nobleman had gone, "how -can you laugh? That impertinent man treats you like a footman, and you -accept such treatment with a smile!" -</p> -<p> -"It makes you angry," said Pier, "but why? I am laughing at your anger -and not at the goodman's lack of ceremony. Didn't I promise to help the -people of the house in every way? I happen to be here; he asks me for -his great-coat; he is old, infirm, foolish—three reasons why I should -take pity on him. And why should I despise him, pray?" -</p> -<p> -"Because he despises you!" -</p> -<p> -"According to your ideas, but not according to his conception of the -things of this world. He is an old devotee, formerly a great rake. In -the old days he seduced the daughters of the common people; to-day he -bestows alms on the poor mothers. God will forgive him for his early -sins, beyond any doubt. Why should I be more straitlaced than the good -Lord! I tell you that the differences which social customs create among -men are neither so important nor so real as you think, my child. They -are all disappearing little by little, and if those who are inordinately -sensitive would be a little less stiff, all those barriers would soon be -nothing but empty words. For my part I laugh at those who consider -themselves so much better than I am, and I never lose my temper. It is -not in any man's power to humiliate me, so long as I am at peace with my -conscience." -</p> -<p> -"Do you know, father, that you are invited to dine with the Marquis -della Serra on the day after to-morrow?" -</p> -<p> -"Yes, that is understood," replied Pier-Angelo, coolly. "I accepted this -invitation because he is not tiresome like most of the great nobles. Ah! -what a price some of them would have to pay me to induce me to pass a -couple of hours with them! But the marquis is a man of intellect. Do you -mean to go there with me? Don't accept unless you choose, Michel; do you -understand? You must not stand on ceremony with any one if you wish to -retain your openness of heart." -</p> -<p> -There was evidently a wide difference between Pier-Angelo's idea of the -honor conferred upon him by such an invitation and the idea that Michel -had conjured up of his triumphal entrance into society. Intoxicated at -first by what had seemed to him to be love on the part of the princess; -then bewildered by the amiability of the marquis, which tended to -diminish the force of the portent, but did not explain it; and, lastly, -irritated by the insolence of the man in the great-coat, he did not know -which way to turn. His theories concerning the victories of talent fell -to the ground before the heedless simplicity of his father, who accepted -everything—homage and disdain—with placid gratitude or -satirical amusement. -</p> -<p> -At the doors of the palace Michel met Magnani, who was also going away. -But, after walking a few steps, the two young men, revived by the -morning air, determined, instead of going to bed, to skirt the hill and -watch the rising of the sun, which was just beginning to whiten the -sides of Ætna. They paused on a small hill, about the half height of -Ætna itself, and seated themselves on a picturesque spot, having at -their right the Villa Palmarosa, still gleaming with light and echoing -with the strains of the orchestra; on their left the towering cone of -the volcano, with the vast slopes forming an amphitheatre of verdure, -rocks and snow to the summit. It was a strange and superb spectacle. -Everything was ill-defined in that boundless expanse, and the -<i>piedimonta</i> could hardly be distinguished from the upper belt, -called <i>nemorosa</i> or <i>silvosa</i>. But while the dawn, reflected -in the sea, suffused the lower portion of the picture with a pale, vague -light, the bold, jagged edges and immaculate snow of the peak were -sharply outlined against the transparent atmosphere of the night, which -was still a deep blue and studded with stars about the giant's head. -</p> -<p> -The sublime tranquillity, the imposing serenity of the towering peaks, -presented a marked contrast to the commotion all about the palace. The -music, the shouts of the servants, the rumbling of the carriages, -seemed, in the presence of placid, silent Ætna, a satirical epitome of -human life as compared with the mysterious abyss of eternity. As the -light grew stronger the peaks became less distinct, and the gorgeous -streamer of reddish smoke that had cut the deep blue sky became blue -itself, and wound upward like an azure serpent against an opal -background. -</p> -<p> -Then the picture changed, and the contrast was reversed. The commotion -and noise rapidly subsided about the palace, and the horrors of the -volcano became visible; the formidable inequalities of its surface, its -yawning chasms, and all the marks of desolation it had left upon the -soil from its crater to its base, even beyond the point from which -Michel and Magnani were gazing at it, even to the very seashore, where -Catania lies, imprisoned by countless blocks of lava as black as ebony. -That awe-inspiring marvel of nature seemed to be defied and insulted by -the joyous airs which the orchestra was playing, softly now, and by the -fast-dying illuminations which crowned the main façade of the palace. -Now and again the music and the candles seemed to make an effort to -revive. Evidently some indefatigable dancers compelled the musicians to -shake off their torpor. Perhaps the burnt-out candles set fire to their -collars of pink paper. One would have said, watching that brilliant and -echoing structure, that the heedless gayety of youth was struggling -against the prostration of sleep or the languor of sensual desire, while -the undying scourge of that sublime country sent its blazing smoke into -the air, a menace of destruction which could not always be defied with -impunity. -</p> -<p> -Michelangelo Lavoratori was absorbed by the spectacle of the volcano, -Magnani's eyes were fixed more frequently on the villa. Suddenly he -uttered an exclamation, and his young friend, following the direction of -his glance, saw a white figure which seemed to be floating in space. It -was a woman walking slowly on the high terrace of the palace. -</p> -<p> -"She, too," cried Magnani, involuntarily, "is watching the sun rise over -the mountain. She, too, is musing, and, it may be, sighing!" -</p> -<p> -"Who?" queried Michel, whose mind had hardened itself somewhat to eject -its own chimera. "Are your eyes sharp enough to see from here whether it -is Princess Agatha or her maid who is taking the air on the terrace?" -</p> -<p> -Magnani hid his face in his hands and made no answer. -</p> -<p> -"Come, my friend," said Michel, obeying a sudden inspiration, "be frank -with me. The great lady with whom you are in love is the Princess -Agatha?" -</p> -<p> -"Well, why should I not admit it?" rejoined the young mechanic, in a -profoundly sorrowful tone; "it may be that I shall soon repent of having -confided to a child whom I hardly know a secret which I have never -allowed those who should be my best friends to suspect. There must be -some fateful reason for this longing to unbosom myself which has -suddenly drawn me toward you. Perhaps it is the late hour, the fatigue, -the excitement caused by the music and lights and perfumes; I do not -know. Perhaps, rather, it is because I feel that you are the only person -here who is capable of understanding me, and that you are mad enough -yourself not to be too severe upon my madness. Well, yes, I love her! I -fear her, I hate her, and I adore her all at once—that woman who is -unlike all other women, whom no one knows, and whom I do not know -myself." -</p> -<p> -"I certainly shall not laugh at you, Magnani; I pity you, I understand -you and I love you, because I think that I can detect a certain -similarity between you and me. I, too, am excited by the perfumes, the -intense brilliancy of that ball, and the noisy dance-music, in which my -imagination detects such an undertone of gloom and melancholy through -its false liveliness. I, too, feel over-excited and a little mad at this -moment. I fancy that there is some deep mystery in our sympathetic -feeling for each other." -</p> -<p> -"Because we both love her!" cried Magnani, beside himself. "Why, Michel, -I guessed it from the first glance you bestowed upon her; you, too, love -her! But you are loved by her, or will be, and she will never love me!" -</p> -<p> -"Loved, I shall be loved, or am already! What are you saying, Magnani? -you are raving!" -</p> -<p> -"Listen to me; I must tell you how this disease took possession of me, -and perhaps you will understand what is taking place in yourself. Five -years ago my mother was ill. The doctor who attended her, for charity's -sake, had almost given her up; her case seemed hopeless. I was sitting -with my face in my hands, weeping bitterly, at the gate of our little -garden, which opens on a street which is almost always deserted, and -which ends in the fields on the outskirts of the town. A woman wrapped -in a cloak passed the gate and stopped: 'Young man,' she said, 'why do -you grieve so? what can I do to lighten your sorrow?'—It was almost -dark and her face was hidden; I could not see her features, and her -voice, which was extremely sweet, was unfamiliar to me. But her -pronunciation and her manner convinced me that she did not belong to our -class. -</p> -<p> -"'Signora,' I replied, rising, 'my poor mother is dying. I ought to be -with her, but, as she is fully conscious and I have reached the end of -my courage, I came outside to weep, so that she should not hear me. I am -going back to her, for it is cowardly to weep like this.' -</p> -<p> -"'Yes,' she said, 'we must have enough courage to lend some to those who -are struggling in the death agony. Go back to your mother; but tell me -first if all hope is lost? has she no doctor?' -</p> -<p> -"'The doctor has not been to-day, and I understand that he can do -nothing more.' -</p> -<p> -"She asked me the doctor's name and my mother's, and when I answered, -she said: 'What! has she grown so much worse during the night? he told -me last evening that he still hoped to save her.' -</p> -<p> -"These words, which she involuntarily let fall did not lead me to think -that it was the Princess of Palmarosa who was speaking to me. I did not -then know what many people do not know to-day, that that charitable -woman paid several doctors to attend the poor of the city, the suburbs, -and the country; that, without ever appearing in person, unwilling to -receive the reward of her good works in the esteem and gratitude of -others, she gave the most assiduous and careful attention to all the -details of our hardships and our necessities. -</p> -<p> -"I was too much engrossed by my grief to pay the same attention to her -words that I afterwards paid to them. I left her; but when I entered my -poor invalid's room, I saw that the veiled lady had followed me. She -approached my mother's bed without speaking, took her hand and held it a -long time, leaned over her, looked into her eyes, listened to her -breathing, and finally said in my ear: 'Young man, your mother is not so -ill as you think. She still has some strength and vitality. The doctor -did wrong to give up hope. I will send him to you and I am sure that he -will save her.' -</p> -<p> -"'Who is this woman?' my mother asked in a feeble voice; 'I do not -recognize you, my dear, but I recognize everybody else here.' -</p> -<p> -"'I am a neighbor of yours,' replied the princess, 'and I came to tell -you that the doctor is coming soon.' -</p> -<p> -"She went out, and my father at once exclaimed: 'That woman is the -Princess Agatha! I recognized her perfectly.' -</p> -<p> -"We could not believe my father; we supposed that he was mistaken, but -we did not have time to discuss the question much. Mother said that she -felt better, and the doctor soon arrived, ordered other remedies, and -left us, saying that she was saved. -</p> -<p> -"And so she was; and since then she has always insisted that the veiled -lady she saw at her death-bed was her patron saint, who had appeared to -her just as she was praying to her, and that the breath of that blessed -spirit had restored her life as by a miracle. We cannot disabuse my dear -mother's mind of that pious and poetic idea, and my brothers and -sisters, who were children then, share it with her. The doctor always -pretended that he didn't know what we meant when we talked about a woman -in a black <i>mazzaro</i>, who had just entered the house and gone out -again, saying that he was coming, and that my mother was saved. -</p> -<p> -"They say that the princess requires absolute secrecy from all those -whom she employs in her good works, and indeed they go so far as to say -that her modesty in that respect amounts to a mania. Her secret was kept -for many years; but the truth always comes out at last, and now many -know that she is the hidden providence of the unfortunate. But see the -injustice and absurdity of human judgments! Some of our people declare -that she once committed a crime, and made a vow to atone for it; that -her noble and saintly life is a self-imposed, terrible penance; that in -her heart she hates all mankind so bitterly that she will never exchange -a sympathetic word with those whom she assists; but that the fear of -everlasting punishment impels her to devote her life to works of -charity. Isn't it horrible to form such judgments? And yet that is what -I have heard said, in a very low tone, it is true, by old women who have -called to see my mother in the evening, and it is sometimes repeated by -younger people, who are impressed by these extraordinary conjectures. -For my own part, I was fully convinced that I had not seen a phantom, -and although my father, fearing lest he might lose the princess's -good-will if he betrayed her incognito, dared not repeat that it was she -who had appeared to us, he said it at first so naturally and so -confidently that I could not doubt it. -</p> -<p> -"As soon as my mother was convalescent, I went and offered to pay the -doctor for his services; but he refused my money, as did the druggist. -They replied to my questions according to the lesson that had been -taught them, that a secret association of wealthy and devout people paid -them for their trouble and outlay." -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap16"></a>XVI -<br><br> -CONCLUSION OF MAGNANI'S STORY -</h4> - -<p> -"My brain began to work," said Magnani, continuing his narrative. "As -the grief that had overwhelmed me gave place to joy, the romantic -portion of my adventure recurred to my memory. The slightest details -stood out distinctly and assumed an intoxicating charm. That woman's -soft voice, her graceful figure, her noble carriage, her white hand, -were constantly in my mind. A ring which she wore, of a curious shape, -had attracted my attention when she felt my poor mother's pulse. -</p> -<p> -"I had never entered the Palmarosa palace. It is not open to strangers -or to inquisitive natives, like most of the ancient abodes of our -patricians. The princess has lived in retirement there, hidden from the -world, so to speak, ever since her father's death, receiving very few -visitors, going out only at night, and that very rarely. I had to watch -for an opportunity to see her near at hand, for I was determined to see -her with the eyes which I had for her alone thenceforth. I had never -desired before that time to see her features, and she had shown them so -seldom in ten years that the people of the suburb had forgotten them. -When she rode out the shades were lowered, and when she went to church -her head was completely enveloped in her black mantilla. Indeed, it was -commonly said among us that she had once been very beautiful, but that -she had had a scrofulous eruption on her face which made her so -frightful that she preferred not to show herself. -</p> -<p> -"All this was simply vague rumor, for my father and other mechanics whom -she employed laughed at these stories, and declared that she was the -same as always. But my youthful brain was affected, none the less, by -these contradictory reports, and my desire to see that woman was blended -with an indefinable dread which prepared me by slow degrees for the -madness of falling in love with her. -</p> -<p> -"One fact in particular added to my ardent longing. My father, who went -often to the palace, as a simple journeyman, to assist the master -upholsterer to hang and drape curtains and the like, refused to take me -there with him, although I was accustomed to go everywhere else with -him. He had often put me off with excuses which I accepted without -examining them; but when my longing to find my way into that sanctuary -became overpowering, he was compelled to admit that the princess did not -like to see young people in her house, and that the master upholsterer -carefully excluded them when he went there with his workmen. This -extraordinary restriction served only to inflame my desire. One morning -I resolutely took my hammer and my apron and entered the Palmarosa -palace, carrying a prie-Dieu covered with velvet, which my father had -just finished in his employer's workshop. I knew that it was made for -Signora Agatha; I consulted nobody, but took possession of it and -started. -</p> -<p> -"That was five years ago, Michel! The palace which you see at this -moment, so resplendent, with its doors wide open, and filled with -people, was just the same a month ago as it was at the time of which I -am telling you, just the same as it had then been during the five years -that had passed since she was left an orphan and mistress of her own -life, and as it probably will be again to-morrow. It was a tomb in which -she seemed to have buried herself alive. All the treasures to-day spread -out for everyone to see were buried in darkness under layers of dust, -like relics of the dead in a tomb. Two or three servants, dismal and -silent, walked noiselessly through the long galleries closed to the -sunlight and the outer air. On all sides thick curtains hanging before -the windows, doors which refused to swing on their rusty hinges, an air -of solemn neglect, statues standing erect in the shadow like ghosts, -family portraits that followed you with their eyes with a distrustful -air. I was frightened, and yet I walked on. The house was not so -jealously guarded as I expected. It had invisible sentinels in its -reputation for inhospitable gloom and the dread of its loneliness. I -carried thither the insane audacity of my twenty years, the ill-fated -rashness of a heart enamored in anticipation, and rushing headlong to -its destruction. -</p> -<p> -"By a chance which seemed like fatality, I was not questioned by anyone. -The few servants of that dismal abode did not see me, or did not think -of preventing me from proceeding, relying, perhaps, upon some Cerberus -nearer to the person of their mistress, whose duty it was to guard the -door of her apartments, and who, by some miracle, happened not to be -there. -</p> -<p> -"Instinct or destiny guided me. I passed through several rooms, I put -aside heavy, dust-covered portières; I passed through one more open -door and found myself in a very richly furnished room, where a -full-length portrait of a man occupied a panel of the wall directly -opposite me. I stopped. That portrait sent a shudder through my veins. I -recognized it from my father's description of the original, whose -character was then a much more common subject of anecdote and gossip -among our people than the peculiarities of the princess. It was the -portrait of Dionigi Palmarosa, Princess Agatha's father, and I must tell -you something of that terrible man, Michel; for it may be that you have -not as yet heard his name in this country, where nobody mentions it -except in fear and trembling. Indeed, I see that I should have mentioned -him to you before, for the hatred and terror which his memory inspires -would have explained to you in some measure the distrust, and even -malevolence with which his daughter, despite all her virtues, is -regarded by some persons of our station in life. -</p> -<p> -"Prince Dionigi was a fierce, despotic, cruel and overbearing man. The -pride of birth made him almost insane, and every indication of spirit or -of resistance on the part of his inferiors was punished with incredible -arrogance and severity. Vindictive to excess, he had, it was said, -killed his wife's lover with his own hand, and worried her to death, -poor creature, in a sort of captivity. He was bitterly detested by his -equals, and still more bitterly by the poor, whom he assisted, however, -on occasion, with lordly liberality, but in such a humiliating way that -one felt degraded by his benefactions. -</p> -<p> -"Now you will understand better the small degree of sympathy which his -daughter has acquired. It seems to me that the constraint in which she -passed her early youth, under the iron rule of such a detestable father, -may well explain her reserved disposition, and what I may call the -premature withering or repression of her heart. Doubtless she is afraid -of reawakening antipathies connected with the name she bears, by -entering into relations with other people; and if she avoids intercourse -with her fellow men, it is for reasons which should arouse the -compassion and deep interest of fair-minded persons. -</p> -<p> -"A single other fact will serve to exhibit Prince Dionigi's disposition. -About fifteen or sixteen years ago, I think—it is all very vague -in my boyish memories,—a young mountaineer in his service, being -maddened beyond endurance by the harshness of his language, ventured, -they say, to shrug his shoulders as he held the stirrup for the prince -to dismount from his horse. He was a worthy, honest fellow, but proud -and of violent temper. The prince struck him a vicious blow. Thereafter -they hated each other intensely, and the groom—his name was -Ercolano—left the Palmarosa palace, saying that he knew the great -secret of the family and that he would soon have his revenge. What was -that secret? He had no time to reveal it, and no one ever knew what he -had to reveal; for they found Ercolano the next morning on the seashore, -murdered, with a dagger bearing the Palmarosa arms in his breast. His -relations dared not demand justice, they were poor!" -</p> -<p> -Magnani had reached this point when the white figure they had seen -wandering about the terrace crossed the flower-garden once more and went -inside. Michel shuddered from head to foot. -</p> -<p> -"I don't know why your story has such an effect upon me," he said. "I -seem to feel the cold blade of that dagger in my breast. That woman -terrifies me. A strange superstition is creeping into my mind. A person -cannot have a murderer's blood in her veins without having either a -wicked heart or an unhinged mind. Give me a chance to breathe, Magnani, -before you finish your story." -</p> -<p> -"The painful emotion that you feel, the dark thoughts that come to your -mind," rejoined Magnani, "all fell to my lot at sight of Dionigi's -portrait; but I passed on and through another door; the staircase -leading to the casino was before me, and I found myself in the -princess's oratory, where I set down the prie-Dieu and looked about me. -No one there! I had no excuse for going farther; the mistress of that -depressing mansion had evidently gone out. So I must needs retire -without seeing her, lose the benefit of my audacity, and perhaps never -again have the courage or the opportunity. -</p> -<p> -"It occurred to me to make a noise to attract her attention, in case she -were in the adjoining room; for I was certainly in her apartments, I -could not doubt it. I took my hammer and struck the gilt nails of the -prie-Dieu, as if I were putting the finishing touch to it. -</p> -<p> -"My stratagem succeeded.—'Who is there? who is making such a noise?' -said a faint voice, with a pure and distinct enunciation which left no -doubt in my mind of the identity of that voice with that of the -mysterious visitor whose accents had not ceased to echo in my heart like -an ineffably sweet melody. -</p> -<p> -"I walked toward a velvet portière and raised it with the determination -born of a last hope. I saw a woman reclining on a couch, in a bedroom -sumptuously furnished in antique style: it was the princess; I had -roused her from her siesta. -</p> -<p> -"My appearance terrified her beyond words; she leaped into the middle of -the room as if she would fly. Her lovely face, whose gentle and somewhat -languid serenity I had been able to contemplate with admiration for a -second, was distorted by childish, incredible terror. -</p> -<p> -"I hastened to retrace the steps I had taken.—'I beg your excellency -not to be frightened,' I said: 'I am only a poor upholsterer's -apprentice, an awkward lout, ashamed of my mistake. I thought that your -highness was out, and I was working here——' -</p> -<p> -"'Go away!' she exclaimed, 'go away!' -</p> -<p> -"And with a gesture in which there was more bewilderment and dismay than -sternness and anger, she pointed to the door. -</p> -<p> -"I attempted to go, but I seemed to be rooted to the floor as in a -dream. Suddenly I saw the princess, who had risen with extraordinary -vehemence, turn as pale as a lovely lily; her breathing ceased; her head -fell back; her arms dropped at her sides. She would have fallen to the -floor had I not rushed to her and caught her in my arms. -</p> -<p> -"She had lost consciousness. I placed her on her couch, I was so -bewildered that it did not occur to me to call for help. Indeed what -would have been the use of ringing? Everybody was asleep or attending to -his special duty in that house, where silence and solitude alone seemed -to be absolute masters. May God forgive me! Twenty times since then I -have been tempted to enter her service as a footman! -</p> -<p> -"Oh! Michel, it would be impossible for me to tell you to-day what took -place within me during the two or three minutes that that woman lay -stretched out like a dead woman before my eyes, with her lips as white -and dry as pure wax, her eyes half-open, but strange and expressionless, -her dark hair falling over her brow on which the cold perspiration stood -in beads, and all that exquisite, refined beauty, above all comparison -in my thought. It was not the intoxicating flame of a gross animal -passion that was kindled in my plebeian blood. It was adoration, as pure -and timid and refined and mysterious as the being who inspired it. I -felt an irresistible longing to prostrate myself at the feet of a dead -and gone martyr, for I thought that she was dead, and it seemed as if my -soul were ready to leave the earth with hers. -</p> -<p> -"I dared not touch her; I did not know what to do to restore her. I had -no voice with which to call for help. I was motionless in my perplexity, -as one is when struggling violently in a horrible dream. At last a phial -fell under my hand, I know not how. She recovered consciousness little -by little, looked at me without seeing me, not understanding or seeking -to understand who I could be. At last she raised herself on her elbow -and seemed to be collecting her thoughts. -</p> -<p> -"'Who are you, my friend?' she said, seeing me on my knees by her side, -'and what do you want? You seem to feel very sorrowful.' -</p> -<p> -"'Ah! yes, your highness, God is my witness that I am very unhappy to -have frightened you so.' -</p> -<p> -"'You did not frighten me,' she said, with an evident embarrassment -which astonished me. 'Did I cry out?—Ah! yes,' she continued, with -a shudder, yielding once more to an impulse of distrust or -alarm.—'I was asleep; you came in; you frightened me. I do not -like to be surprised in that way. But did I say anything unkind to you, -that you weep?' -</p> -<p> -"'No, your highness,' I replied; 'you fainted, and I would rather have -died than have caused you this discomfort.' -</p> -<p> -"'Am I alone here, pray?' she cried in a tone of distress that tore my -heart. 'Can anybody who pleases enter my apartments and insult -me?'—She rose and ran to her bell-rope. She seemed -desperate—beside herself. Her words and her excitement had -affected me so painfully that it did not occur to me to fly. And yet, if -she had rung—if anyone had come—I should have been treated -like a criminal. But she stopped, and the expression of her face told me -the truth at once concerning her disposition. -</p> -<p> -"It was a blending of unhealthy suspicion and sympathetic kindliness. -She had been so wretchedly unhappy in her early youth—so everyone -said! At all events, she could not have been ignorant of her father's -execrable character. She may have witnessed some murder in her -childhood. Who knows what scenes of violence and terror have been -enacted behind the thick walls of that dumb mansion? It was by no means -impossible that she might have acquired therefrom some mental malady of -which I had just witnessed an outbreak; and yet what angelic sweetness -her glance expressed when she dropped the bell-cord, apparently overcome -by my humble attitude and the grief by which I was overwhelmed! -</p> -<p> -"'You came in here by chance, did you not?' she said. 'You did not know -that it is a whim of mine not to like new faces; or, if you did know it, -you had the courage to disregard my orders, because you have had some -misfortune which I can lighten? I have seen you somewhere; I have a -vague remembrance of your features. Your name is——?' -</p> -<p> -"'Antonio Magnani, your highness. My father works here sometimes.' -</p> -<p> -"'I know him; he has some little means. Is he sick? Has he run in debt?' -</p> -<p> -"'No, signora,' I replied, 'I do not ask alms, although you are the only -person on earth from whom I could accept alms without blushing. I have -long wished to see you; not to beg from you, but to bless you. You saved -my mother; you encouraged me. You leaned over her pillow; you restored -my hope and her life. That is certain; of course you do not remember it, -but I shall never forget it. May God reward you for what you did for us! -That is all I wanted to say to your highness; and now I will go away, -begging you not to blame anyone, for the fault is entirely mine.' -</p> -<p> -"'I will not tell anyone that you came into my house in spite of my -orders,' she said. 'Your employer and your father would reprove you for -it. Nor do you say that you saw me in such a fright. People would say -that I am mad, as they say now, I believe, and I do not much like to -have people talk about me. As for your thanks, I do not deserve them. -You are mistaken; I never did anything for you, my child.' -</p> -<p> -"'Oh! I am not mistaken, your highness; I should have known you among a -thousand. The heart has instincts deeper and truer than the senses. You -do not wish your benefactions to be discovered, so I do not speak of -them. I do not intend to thank you for paying the doctor; no, you are -rich, and it is easy for you to give. But you are not obliged to love -and pity those whom you help. And yet you pitied me when you saw me -weeping at the door of the house where my mother lay dying, and you -loved my mother when you leaned over her bed of pain.' -</p> -<p> -"'But I tell you again, my child, that I do not know your mother.' -</p> -<p> -"'That is possible; but you knew that she was sick. You wished to see -her, and charity was in your very glance—how ardent at that -moment!—since your glance, your voice, your touch, your breath, cured -her as by a miracle. My mother was conscious of it; she remembers it; -she thinks that it was an angel who appeared to her; she addresses her -prayers to you because she thinks that you are in Heaven. But I was sure -that I should find you on earth, and should have an opportunity to thank -you.' -</p> -<p> -"Princess Agatha's cold and impassive face relaxed as if involuntarily. -It lighted up for an instant with a warm glow of sympathy, and I saw -that treasures of kindliness were contending in that suffering heart -against a painful misanthropical propensity.—'Well,' she said, with a -divine smile, 'I see, at all events, that you are a good son and adore -your mother. God grant that I may in truth have brought her good -fortune! but I believe that God alone deserves thanks. Thank Him and -worship Him, my child; He alone understands and can relieve certain -sorrows, for men cannot do much for one another. How old are you?' -</p> -<p> -"I was twenty at that time. She listened to my reply, and said, looking -at me as if she had not yet noticed my features: 'True, you are older -than I thought. You can come and work here when you choose. I am -accustomed to your face now, and it will not startle me again; but -another time do not wake me suddenly by hammering in my ears in that -way, for I am always depressed and nervous when I wake. That is my -disease!' -</p> -<p> -"While she was speaking, and while she looked after me as I walked -toward the door, her eyes expressed this thought: 'I do not offer you my -assistance in life, but I will keep my eye on you, as I do on so many -others, and I will find ways to serve you without your knowledge; and I -will take measures to avoid having to listen to your thanks again.' -</p> -<p> -"Yes, Michel, that is what was said by that face, at once angelic and -cold, maternal and unfeeling; a terrible enigma, which I have never been -able to solve, and which I am less able to solve to-day than ever." -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap17"></a>XVII -<br><br> -THE CYCLAMEN -</h4> - -<p> -Magnani ceased to speak, and it did not occur to Michel to question him. -But at last the young painter, coming to himself, asked his friend for -the rest of his story. -</p> -<p> -"My story is at an end," replied Magnani. "Ever since that day I have -been admitted to the palace as a workman. I have often seen the -princess, but I have never spoken to her." -</p> -<p> -"How does it happen, then, that you love her? for you do not know her? -you do not know her real opinions?" -</p> -<p> -"I thought that I had guessed them. But, during this last week, when she -has seemed inclined to emerge suddenly from her tomb, throw open her -house, and take part in social life; especially to-day, when she has -been going about and conversing familiarly with people of our station, -with kindly words and cordial invitations—for I overheard the -conversation that you had with her and the Marquis della Serra on the -main staircase; I was close at hand,—I no longer know what to think -of her. Yes, even recently I thought that I had fathomed her character. -Twice a year, in spring and autumn, I have come here with other workmen, -I have seen her pass from time to time, walking slowly, with an -absent-minded, melancholy, yet perfectly tranquil air. If she sometimes -seemed downcast and distressed, the serenity of her glance was not -disturbed. She always bowed to us collectively with greater courtesy -than persons of her rank ordinarily show to us. Sometimes she would -exchange with the master upholsterer or my father a few pleasant words, -equally free from pride and from warmth. She seemed to feel an -instinctive respect for their years. I was the only young workman -admitted to her house, but she never seemed to pay the slightest -attention to me. She did not avoid my glances, but met them without -seeing them. -</p> -<p> -"At certain times, however, I noticed that she saw many more things than -she seemed to see; and that people who complained, even when she did not -seem to hear them, obtained justice or help at once, without knowing -whose was the mysterious hand put forth over them. You see, she conceals -her boundless charity as other people conceal their shameful -selfishness. And you ask me how it happens that I love her! Her virtue -arouses my admiration, and the dumb despair which seems to be crushing -her inspires in my heart profound and affectionate compassion. To admire -and to pity—is not that to adore? The pagans, who have left so many -magnificent ruins on our soil, sacrificed to their gods, all radiant -with strength and glory and beauty; but they did not love them; and we -Christians have felt the light of faith pass from our minds into our -hearts, because God was shown to us in the guise of a bleeding, -tear-bedewed Christ. Ah! yes, I do love that woman, who has paled, like -a flower of the woods, beneath the terrible shadow of paternal tyranny. -I do not know the story of her infancy, but I divine the misery of her -girlhood. They say that, when she was fourteen, her father, being unable -to force her to marry in accordance with the views dictated by his pride -and ambition, to which he proposed to sacrifice her, confined her for a -long time in a secluded room of yonder palace, and that she suffered -there from hunger, thirst, heat, neglect, and despair. Nothing definite -has ever been known about it. Another version of the story also gained -currency; it was said that she was in a convent; but the terror-stricken -air of her servants said plainly enough that her disappearance was a -part of some unjust and unnatural punishment. -</p> -<p> -"When Dionigi died, his heiress reappeared in the palace, with an old -aunt who was little better than he, but who allowed her to breathe a -little more freely. They say that at that time again she had several -brilliant offers of marriage, but that she obstinately refused, thereby -much angering the princess, her aunt. Her death put an end at last to -her niece's persecutions, and at the age of twenty she found herself -alone and free in the house of her fathers. But it was evidently too -late for her to rouse from the state of prostration to which so much -sorrow had brought her. She had lost the strength and the desire to be -happy. She was torpid, a little inclined to be morose, and seemingly -incapable of inviting the affection of others. She gained the affection, -however, of some persons of her own rank, and it is certain that the -Marquis della Serra, whom she refused to marry when he entered the lists -several years ago, has never ceased to love her ardently. Everybody says -so, and I know it; I will tell you how. -</p> -<p> -"Although I pride myself, without undue boasting, on being a good -workman, I confess that when I am in the palace, I am, in spite of -myself, the slowest of the slow. I am excited and perturbed. The ring of -the hammers irritates my nerves, as if I were a silly girl; I am -overcome by the heat at the slightest exertion with my arms. Every -moment of the time I either have a feeling that I am going to faint, or -am tempted to creep into dark corners, crouch there out of sight, and -allow myself to be left behind. I surprise myself listening, prowling, -spying. I no longer dare to go into the princess's oratory or her -bedroom alone. Oh! no; although I know the road perfectly well. My -respect is stronger now than my insane and restless passion! But if I -can breathe the perfume that escapes through the chinks of the door of -her boudoir; if I can hear, even at a distance, the sound of her light -footsteps, which I know so well—then I am content, I am drunk with -joy. -</p> -<p> -"Thus I have heard, I dare not say involuntarily—for if chance placed -me within earshot, my will was not strong enough to prevent me from -listening,—more than one interview between the princess and the -marquis. How often have I been consumed by frantic jealousy? but I have -acquired certain knowledge that he is only her friend, a loyal, -respectful, submissive friend. -</p> -<p> -"One day, among others, they had a conversation, every word of which, I -believe, is engraved with fatal distinctness on my memory. -</p> -<p> -"The princess was saying when I entered the adjoining room: -</p> -<p> -"'Oh! why question me so persistently? You know, my friend, that I am -absurdly impressionable; that the thought of the past freezes my blood, -and that, if I could make up my mind to speak of it—I believe, yes, I -believe that I should go mad!' -</p> -<p> -"'Very well, very well,' he cried, 'let us not speak of it, let us be -content with our tranquil friendship. Look at that lovely sky and those -sweet cyclamens, which seem to smile in your hands.' -</p> -<p> -"'These flowers do not smile,' she replied, 'you do not understand their -language, and I can tell you why I love them. It is because they are in -my eyes the emblem of my life and the image of my heart. See how -curiously limp they are; they are pure and fresh and fragrant; but is -there not something unhealthy and decrepit in the inversion and -unnatural upturning of their petals?' -</p> -<p> -"'It is true,' said the marquis, 'they have a sort of dishevelled look; -they grow as a general rule on windswept peaks. One would say that they -were trying to fly away from their stalks as if there were nothing to -hold them, and that nature had provided them with wings like -butterflies.' -</p> -<p> -"'And yet they do not fly away,' continued the princess; 'they are -firmly attached to their stalks. Although apparently fragile, there are -no hardier plants, and the most violent winds never strip them of their -petals. While the rose succumbs to a hot day, and strews the burning -earth with its leaves, the cyclamen is obstinate, and lives many days -and nights in retirement, and, as it were, shrunken into itself: it is a -flower that has no youth. You probably have never seen it just as it is -opening. I have patiently watched that mysterious process; when the bud -opens, the petals are rolled tightly together and separate with an -effort. The first one that frees itself stretches out like a bird's -wing, then throws itself backward and resumes its twisted position. -Another follows, and the flower, almost before it is open, is already -tremulous and wrinkled, as if it were about to die of old age. That is -its way of living, and it lives a long while so. Ah! it is a melancholy -flower, and that is why I carry it everywhere.' -</p> -<p> -"'No, no, it does not resemble you,' said the marquis, 'for its -uncovered breast exhales its fragrance freely to all the winds of -heaven, whereas your heart is mysteriously closed, even to the most -discreet and least exacting affection!' -</p> -<p> -"They were interrupted; but I knew enough. Ever since that day, I too -have loved the cyclamen, and I always cultivate it in my little garden; -but I dare not pluck the flowers and smell them. Their odor makes me ill -and drives me mad!" -</p> -<p> -"It is the same with me," said Michel. "Yes, it is a dangerous odor! But -I no longer hear the carriages, Magnani. Doubtless the palace will soon -be closed. I must go and join my father, for he must be tired out, -whatever he may say, and he may need my help." -</p> -<p> -They walked in the direction of the ball-room. It was deserted; Visconti -and his fellow-servants were extinguishing the candles which were still -carrying on the struggle against the daylight. -</p> -<p> -"Why this fête after all?" said Magnani, as he glanced about that -immense hall, whose height seemed to be doubled by the darkness -overhead, while the bluish rays of dawn crept sadly into the lower -portions through the open doors. "The princess might have helped the -poor in other ways, and I cannot yet understand why she submitted to -make this public demonstration of charity when she had always done good -so mysteriously hitherto. What miraculous change has taken place in our -reserved benefactress's existence? Instead of rejoicing at it, I, -although I would give my life for her, am hurt by it, and cannot think -of it without bitterness. I loved her as she was; I cannot understand -her when she is cured, consoled, and effusive. Is everybody to know her -and to love her now? People will no longer say that she is mad, that she -once committed a crime, that she is concealing a horrible secret, that -she is ransoming her soul by pious works, although she detests mankind! -Madman that I am! I am afraid of being cured myself, and I am jealous of -the happiness that she may have recovered! Tell me, Michel, do you -suppose that she has made up her mind to love the Marquis della Serra, -and that she will invite the court, the city, and the country, to -celebrate her betrothal magnificently under her own roof? She gave a -royal fête to-day; perhaps she will give a popular fête to-morrow. She -is making her peace with everybody; great and small will make merry at -her wedding! Ah! there will be dancing there! what fun for us, eh? and -how kind the princess is!" -</p> -<p> -Michel remarked his companion's bitterness and irony; but although he -was conscious of a thrill of strange emotion at the idea of Agatha's -marriage to the marquis, he put all the more restraint upon himself. He, -too, had been struck to the heart, but the shock was too recent for him -to dare, or to deign, to give the name of love to his feeling. Magnani's -madness served as a warning to him. He pitied him, but there seemed to -him to be in that young man's abnormal position something humiliating to -which he did not choose to subject himself. -</p> -<p> -"Come to your senses, my friend," he said. "Such a beautiful fête, at -night, has a tendency to excite one, especially when one is only a -spectator. But here comes the sun above the horizon, and it should -dispel all phantoms and all visions. I feel as if I had just waked from -a fantastic dream. Listen! The birds are singing outside; there is -nothing here but dust and smoke. I am very sure that your madness is not -so absorbing every hour of your life as you fancy at this moment of -excitement and unreserve. I will wager that when you have slept two -hours you will return to your work feeling like a different man. For my -part, I already feel the salutary effect of real life, and I promise you -that the next time we see the spectre pass close to us, I will not try -to dispute her glance with you." -</p> -<p> -"Her glance!" cried Magnani, bitterly, "her glance! Ah! you remind me of -the glance she bestowed upon you, before the ball opened, the first time -she saw your face. My God! what an expression! If it had fallen upon me, -just once in my life, I would have killed myself instantly, in order not -to live any more upon certainty and cold reason, after such an illusion, -such delirious joy. And you, Michel, felt the consuming fire that she -communicated to you. You were scorched by it for an instant, and, but -for my mockery, you would still gloat over it with rapture. But what -does it matter to me now? I see clearly that she has lost her mind; that -she has deprived her solitary sorrow of its sanctity; that she loves -someone, you or the marquis—what matter which? Why this special -display of friendship for your father, whom she hardly knew a year ago? -My father has worked for her ever since she was born, and she barely -knows his name. Does she propose to cap the climax of her eccentric life -by an act of downright insanity? Does she propose to atone for her -father's tyranny and unpopularity by marrying a child of the -people—a mere boy?" -</p> -<p> -"You are the one who is mad," said Michel, disturbed and almost angry. -"Go and get a breath of fresh air, Magnani, and don't involve me in the -vagaries that your excitement suggests to you. Signora Agatha is -sleeping peacefully at this moment, remembering neither your name nor -mine. If she honored me with a kindly glance, it was because she loves -painting and is pleased with my work.—Look, my friend," added the -young artist, pointing to the figures of his fresco, upon which a rosy -beam of the morning sun shone through the open windows. "There are the -only intoxicating realities of my life. Let the lovely princess marry -the Marquis della Serra. I shall be very glad; he is a courteous -gentleman, and I like his face. I, when I choose, will paint a more -perfect and less problematical divinity than the pale-cheeked Agatha." -</p> -<p> -"You, wretched boy? Never!" exclaimed Magnani, indignantly. -</p> -<p> -"I agree that she is beautiful," rejoined Michel, with a smile. "I have -scrutinized her, and I have profited by that scrutiny. I have obtained -from her all that I should never ask her for, the spectacle of her grace -and her charms, to reproduce them and idealize them at my pleasure." -</p> -<p> -"I have always been told that artists had hearts of ice," said Magnani, -staring at Michel in blank amazement. "You have seen the storm which -drives me wild, and you remain cold—you laugh at me! Ah! I blush to -think that I have betrayed my madness to you, and I am going away to -hide my head!" -</p> -<p> -Magnani disappeared, frantic with excitement, and Michel was left alone -in the almost deserted ball-room. Visconti was extinguishing the last -candles, and Pier-Angelo, before taking his leave, was assisting to -restore order temporarily in that structure which was to be entirely -removed before evening. -</p> -<p> -Michel also assisted, but languidly. His own reflections having cooled -his excitement, he felt utterly exhausted, mentally and physically. -</p> -<p> -Magnani's abrupt outbreak disturbed him. He reproached himself because, -after undergoing in silence the rebound of the young mechanic's -agitation, he had not succeeded better in sympathizing with his trouble, -but had allowed him to go away uncomforted. On the other hand, he could -not avoid a slight feeling of irritation. It seemed to him that Magnani -had carried his effusiveness too far in seeking to convince him that he, -Michel, was the object of a sudden passion on the part of the princess. -It was so absurd, so improbable, that Michel, who was more -self-possessed, more of a man of the world at eighteen than Magnani -could ever be, shrugged his shoulders pityingly. -</p> -<p> -And yet, self-esteem is such a persistent and impertinent adviser that -Michel now and again heard a voice within him saying: "Magnani has -guessed aright. Jealousy gives him a keenness of vision which you -yourself have not. Agatha loves you; she took fire at first sight. And -why should she not love you?" -</p> -<p> -Michel was intoxicated and abashed at once by these flushes of vanity -which rose to his cheeks. He was in haste to return home and recover his -tranquillity altogether with sleep. And yet he desired to wait for his -father, who was still at work, zealous and indefatigable, attending to a -thousand minute details, a thousand apparently unnecessary precautions. -</p> -<p> -"Patience!" said the excellent Pier-Angelo. "I shall have finished in a -minute; but I want our dear princess to be able to sleep in peace, and I -don't propose that anybody shall come here and make a racket before -to-night. Above all things, I don't propose to leave a single candle -lighted in any corner. Now is the time when there is most danger of -fire! Look! that idiot of a Visconti has left the lamp in the grotto -burning; I can see it from here. Go and put it out, Michel, and take -care not to spill oil on the couch." -</p> -<p> -Michel went into the grotto of the naiad; but, before extinguishing the -lamp, he could not resist the temptation to gaze for a moment at the -beautiful statue, the lovely foliage with which he had decorated it, and -the couch whereon he had seen Agatha as in a dream. "How young she -looked and how lovely she was!" he thought; "and how that man who loves -her gazed at her, with an adoration which betrayed itself in spite of -him, and which infected the most immaterial portion of my heart! I -noticed others during the ball who stared at her with an insolence born -of desire, which made my whole being quiver with indignation! All these -great nobles love her, each in his own way, and she loves no one of -them!" -</p> -<p> -And Agatha's glance passed through his memory like a lightning-flash, -its dazzling brilliancy putting to flight all reason, all fear of -ridicule, all self-distrust. -</p> -<p> -While musing thus, he had extinguished the lamp, and had sunk upon the -cushions of the divan, expecting that his father would call him and that -he might enjoy one last moment of comfort before leaving that -fascinating grotto. -</p> -<p> -But fatigue overpowered him. He could contend no longer against the -chimeras of his imagination. Half-reclining comfortably on the couch, -and alone for the first time in twenty-four hours, he rapidly lost -consciousness. For one moment he dreamed with his eyes open. The next -moment he was sleeping soundly. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap18"></a>XVIII -<br><br> -THE MONKS -</h4> - -<p> -How many minutes,—or was it seconds only?—passed while -Michel was overpowered by that irresistible lassitude, he had no idea. -The power of the imagination, when transported into the domain of -dreams, travels so fast and surmounts so many obstacles at a single -bound, that time is an inadequate measure of it, especially in the first -sleep. -</p> -<p> -Michel had a strange dream. A woman softly entered the grotto, walked to -where he sat, leaned over him and gazed at him for a long time; he felt -her fragrant breath caress his brow, he fancied that he felt also the -fire of her glance fastened passionately upon him. But he could not see -her, for it was dark in the grotto, and, moreover, it was impossible for -him to raise his heavy eyelids; but it was Agatha; Michel's heart, -inflamed by that woman's presence, told him so plainly enough. -</p> -<p> -At last, as he tried to rouse himself in order to speak to her, she -placed her cool, soft lips on his forehead and imprinted a kiss thereon, -so long, but so light, that he could not summon the strength to reply to -it, overcome as he was by joy, and at the same time by the fear that it -was only a dream. -</p> -<p> -"But it is a dream, alas! it is nothing but a dream," he said to -himself, still sleeping; and yet the fear of waking caused him to wake. -So it is that, in sleep, the instinctive, frantic desire to prolong the -illusion causes it to vanish more quickly. -</p> -<p> -But what a strange and persistent dream! Michel, with his eyes open, -sitting half erect, supported by his trembling arm, saw and heard that -woman fly. The curtain at the entrance of the grotto being lowered, he -could distinguish only an indistinct figure; he felt the touch of a silk -dress; the curtain opened and closed again so quickly that it seemed to -him that the phantom passed through without touching it. -</p> -<p> -He started to follow her; but all his blood rushed back to his heart so -violently that he could not stand erect, but was compelled to fall back -on the divan, and it was a full minute before he was able to rush to the -blue velvet portière that separated him from the ball-room. -</p> -<p> -He drew it aside with a convulsive gesture and found himself face to -face with his father, who said, with a jocose and placid air: -</p> -<p> -"So it seems that we have been having a nap, eh, my boy? Now, everything -is in order; let us go home and see if little Mila is awake." -</p> -<p> -"Mila?" cried Michel, "is Mila here, father?" -</p> -<p> -"It may well be that she isn't far away," replied the old man. "I'll bet -that she hasn't closed her eyes all night; she was so anxious to come to -see the ball! But I forbade her to leave the house before daylight." -</p> -<p> -"It is daylight now," said Michel, "and Mila is probably here! Tell me, -father, did some woman, my sister, perhaps, just come into the grotto?" -</p> -<p> -"Did you dream it? I saw no one. To be sure, my eyes weren't looking in -that direction all the time, and I saw some striped skirts prowling -about outside, which meant that some curious creatures had stolen into -the garden. Can Mila have come in while my back was turned?" -</p> -<p> -"Why, this very instant, father, just as you came to the opening, -someone went out, a woman; I am certain of it!" -</p> -<p> -"You are talking at random now, for I saw nothing but my shadow on the -curtain. Come, you need a good nap, let us go home. They are just -closing the last door. If your sister is here we shall find her." -</p> -<p> -Michel was about to follow his father; but as he was turning away he saw -something glistening in the grotto and was led to cast a last glance -inside. Was it a spark that had fallen on the carpet, near the couch? He -stooped: it was a piece of jewelry, which he picked up and examined by -daylight. It was the gold locket, surrounded with diamonds and bearing -the princess's crest, which she had given Mila. He opened it to make -sure that it was the same. He recognized a lock of his own hair inside. -</p> -<p> -"I knew that Mila came into the grotto," he said to his father, as they -walked toward the garden; "she gave me a kiss which woke me." -</p> -<p> -"She evidently must have gone in there," rejoined Pier-Angelo, -indifferently; "but I didn't see her." -</p> -<p> -At that instant Mila emerged from a clump of magnolias, and came -forward, laughing and capering, to meet her father, whom she kissed -affectionately, as she did Michel. -</p> -<p> -"It is high time for you to come home and rest," she said; "I came to -tell you that your breakfast is waiting. I was so impatient to see you! -Are you terribly tired, father, dear?" -</p> -<p> -"Not at all," the good man replied, "I am used to these things, and a -sleepless night is all pleasure when you sup till morning. Your -breakfast will go begging, Mila; but your brother here is asleep on his -legs. Come, children; let us be off; see, they are closing the garden -gates now." -</p> -<p> -But, instead of continuing to close the gates, the servants suddenly -threw them wide open again, and Michel saw a procession of monks file -in, monks of divers orders, all carrying wallets and purses; they were -the begging brothers of all the mendicant orders, which have numerous -establishments in Catania and its neighborhood. They were making their -usual round and had come to collect for their respective communities the -broken meat left from the fête. Some two score of them passed slowly -through the gate; most of them had asses to carry away the avails of -their quest. There was something so surprising and comical in their -obsequious manner and their solemn bearing when they entered the -gardens, escorted by their asses,—strange guests at a ball—that -Michel, diverted from his emotion, had much ado to keep from laughing. -</p> -<p> -But no sooner were they fairly inside the gates than they broke ranks, -and, shaking off their consequential, discreet manner, began to run -toward the ball-room, each striving to outstrip his neighbors, beating -their asses to make them move faster, hurrying, jostling, and freely -exhibiting their greed and their jealousy. They overran the ball-room, -almost breaking down the fragile doors, and attempted to ascend the main -staircase of the peristyle, or to force their way into the kitchens. But -the butler and his <i>officers</i>, being prepared for the assault, and -knowing their ways, had carefully barricaded all the issues; they -brought forth the fragments destined for the monks, and distributed them -as impartially as possible. There were dishes of meat, remnants of -pastry, pitchers of wine, and even pieces of glass and porcelain which -had been broken during the fête, and which the good monks put together -with great care and mended most skilfully, for the adornment of their -own sideboards, or to sell to collectors. They quarrelled over the booty -with little decency, reviled the servants for not giving them all that -they were entitled to, for treating one better than another, for failing -in respect for the patron saints of their convents. They even threatened -them with the infirmities which those saints were supposed to be -especially skilful in curing when the afflicted person had acquired -their good-will. -</p> -<p> -"Bah! what a miserable ham you have given me!" cried one. "You are -already deaf in one ear; you can depend upon it that before long you -will not be able to hear the thunder with the other." -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> -<a id="figure03"></a> -<br> -<img src="images/figure03.jpg" width="300" alt="300"> -<div class="caption"> -<p><i>AFTER THE FÊTE.</i></p> -<p class="smaller"> -"<i>Here's a bottle half empty!" cried another. -"No prayers will be said for you under our roof, -and you'll never be cured of the stone, if you take -that terrible disease.</i>"</p> -</div></div> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -"Here's a bottle half empty!" cried another. "No prayers will be said -for you under our roof, and you'll never be cured of the stone, if you -take that terrible disease." -</p> -<p> -Others plied their trade gayly, with jests that made the distributors -laugh, and they showed so much wit and good-nature that the servants -secretly slipped the best pieces into their wallets. -</p> -<p> -At Rome Michel had seen dandified Capuchins, redolent with perfume under -their frocks, and displaying their sandals, with poetic gravity, in -close proximity to the Holy Father's consecrated slipper. The -poverty-stricken Sicilian monks seemed to him very indecent, very -laughable, and ever so little cynical, when they swooped down upon the -crumbs of that feast like a flock of greedy crows and chattering -magpies. He was attracted, however, by the high-spirited and intelligent -faces of some of them. It was the Sicilian common people again, in the -sack-cloth of the cloister—a noble race which bends beneath the yoke -but cannot be broken. -</p> -<p> -The young artist had returned to the ball-room to look on at this -curious spectacle, and he watched its various incidents with the -attention of a painter who turns everything to his own profit. He -noticed especially one of the monks, whose hood was pulled down to the -end of his beard, and who did not beg. He kept apart from the others, -and walked about the room as if he were more interested in the place -where the fête had been given than in the possible benefit he might -derive from it. Michel tried several times to see his features, and to -judge therefrom whether the intelligent mind of an artist or the regrets -of a man of the world were concealed beneath that monkish garb. He saw -him stealthily put aside his hood but once, and then he was impressed by -his repulsive ugliness. At the same instant the monk turned his eyes -upon him with an expression of malevolent curiosity; and instantly -looked away as if he feared to be surprised staring at other people. -</p> -<p> -"I have seen that ugly face somewhere," said Michel to his sister, who -was standing by his side. -</p> -<p> -"Do you call that a face?" replied the girl. "I saw nothing but a goat's -beard, the eyes of an owl, and a nose that looked like an old crushed -fig. You won't paint his portrait, I hope?" -</p> -<p> -"You said just now, Mila, that you knew several of these monks from -having seen them begging in our suburb; have you ever met that fellow?" -</p> -<p> -"I don't think so; but, if you are anxious to find out his name, it will -be very easy, for here is a brother who will tell me." -</p> -<p> -And the girl ran to meet a monk who was the last to arrive, without a -wallet, and without an ass, but with a little purse simply. He was a -tall, handsome man, of uncertain age; his beard was still as black as -ebony, although his crown of hair was beginning to turn gray. The -keenness of his black eyes, the noble contour of his aquiline nose, and -the smile that played about his red lips, indicated robust health, -conjoined with an amiable and decided character. He had neither the -unhealthy thinness nor the absurd obesity of most of his brethren. His -chestnut-colored frock was neat and clean, and he wore it with a -majestic air. He won Michel's confidence at the first glance; but it -angered the young man to see Mila almost throw her arms about the -Capuchin's neck, and take his beard in her two little hands, laughing -and pretending that she proposed to kiss him whether he would or not. -</p> -<p> -"Come, come, little one, softly, softly," said the monk, pushing her -away with fatherly gentleness. "No matter if I am your uncle, a monk -musn't be kissed." -</p> -<p> -Thereupon, Michel bethought him of the Capuchin Paolo-Angelo, of whom -his father had so often spoken to him, and whom he had never seen. <i>Fra -Angelo</i> was Pier-Angelo's brother in affection not less than by birth. -He was the youngest of Michel's uncles. His intellect and the dignity of -his character made him the pride of the family, and as soon as -Pier-Angelo saw him, he ran to Michel to introduce him. -</p> -<p> -"Brother," said the old decorator, pressing the Capuchin's hand warmly, -"give my son your blessing; I should have brought him to your convent to -ask it before this if we had not been employed here a little beyond our -strength." -</p> -<p> -"My child," said Fra Angelo to his nephew, "I give you the blessing of a -kinsman and a friend; I am happy to see you, and your face pleases me." -</p> -<p> -"I can say the same," replied Michel, putting his hand in his uncle's. -</p> -<p> -But, to manifest his affection, the good monk, who had the muscles of an -athlete, squeezed his fingers so hard that the young man thought for a -moment that the bones were broken. He did not wish to let it appear that -that caress was a little too rough; but the perspiration stood out on -his forehead, and he said to himself with a smile, that a man of the -build of his uncle, the Capuchin, was better adapted to demand alms than -to beg. -</p> -<p> -But, as strength and gentleness almost always go hand in hand, Fra -Angelo approached the distributor of alms with a self-restraint and -reserve as marked as the eagerness and persistence of his fellows. He -saluted him with a smile, opened his purse without deigning to put out -his hand, and closed it without looking to see what had been put in it, -muttering a very laconic sentence of thanks; after which he returned to -his brother and nephew, refusing to burden himself with provisions of -any sort. -</p> -<p> -"In that case," said a very pious footman, "you have not enough money!" -</p> -<p> -"Do you think so?" rejoined the monk. "I have no idea. However little it -may be, the convent must needs be satisfied with it." -</p> -<p> -"Do you wish me to go and demand more for you, my brother? If you will -promise to pray for me every day this week, I will make them give you -more." -</p> -<p> -"Oh! don't take that trouble," replied the dignified Capuchin, with a -smile; "I will pray for you <i>gratis</i>, and my prayers will be worth all -the more. Your mistress, Princess Agatha, gives enough in charity, and I -come to her house only in obedience to my orders." -</p> -<p> -"Uncle," said little Mila, in an undertone, "there is a brother of your -order yonder, whose face puzzles my father and brother. They think that -he looks like somebody else." -</p> -<p> -"Somebody else? Whom do you mean?" -</p> -<p> -"Look at him," said Pier-Angelo. "Michel is right, he has a bad face. -You must know him. He is standing all alone, over there under the -musicians' platform." -</p> -<p> -"So far as his figure and his carriage are concerned, I don't recognize -him as any brother of our convent. And yet he wears the frock of a -Capuchin. But why does he interest you?" -</p> -<p> -"Because it seems to us," said Pier, lowering his voice, "that he -resembles Abbé Ninfo." -</p> -<p> -"In that case, off with you," said Fra Angelo, hastily. "I will go and -speak to him, and I will soon find out who he is and what he is here -for." -</p> -<p> -"Yes, yes, let us go," said Pier-Angelo. "Go first, children. I will -follow you." -</p> -<p> -Michel put his sister's arm through his, and they were soon on the way -to Catania. -</p> -<p> -"It seems that this Abbé Ninfo wishes us ill," said Mila to her -brother, "and has the power to injure us. Do you know why, Michel?" -</p> -<p> -"Not very well; but I am suspicious of a man who disguises himself, -apparently for the purpose of spying. Whether we are concerned or -somebody else, mystery conceals evil projects." -</p> -<p> -"Psha!" said the heedless Mila, after a moment's silence, "perhaps he is -only a monk, like the rest. He stood apart and lurked in corners, as -some of them often do after the crowd has passed, on days of processions -or feast-days, to see if they can't find some jewel that somebody has -lost. Then they pick it up without a word and carry it to their convent, -to be surrendered to its owner in consideration of a round sum for one -or two masses, or to be used in unearthing some love secret; for these -good fathers are very inquisitive, as a general rule!" -</p> -<p> -"You don't love the monks, do you, Mila? You are only half a Sicilian?" -</p> -<p> -"That depends. I love my uncle and those who are like him." -</p> -<p> -"By the way," said Michel, reminded by the words <i>lost jewel</i> of the -adventure which the Capuchins had driven from his mind; "you had been in -the ball-room, hadn't you, a moment before I met you in the garden?" -</p> -<p> -"No," she replied; "if you had not taken me in with you to watch the -monks beg, I never should have dreamed of going in. Why do you ask me -that? I saw the ball-room all finished before the fête. What do I care -to see an empty room where no one is dancing? It was the ball, the -dancing, the dresses, that I wanted to see! But you wouldn't take me -even as far as the door last night!" -</p> -<p> -"Why not tell me the truth when the matter is of no importance? There is -nothing out of the way, my dear little sister, in your having come to -the naiad's grotto to wake me just now." -</p> -<p> -"Father says that you are asleep on your legs, Michel, and I see that he -is quite right. I will take my oath that since yesterday morning, when I -brought you the leaves you asked me to pick, I have not been inside the -grotto." -</p> -<p> -"Ah! Mila, this is too much. You used not to tell falsehoods, and I am -sorry to see that you have that wretched habit now." -</p> -<p> -"Hush, brother, you insult me," said Mila, proudly withdrawing her arm. -"I have never lied, and I shall not begin to-day, just to please you." -</p> -<p> -"Little sister," rejoined Michel, walking after her and quickening his -pace to keep up with her, for she was hurrying on ahead, hurt and -grieved, "will you please show me the locket Princess Agatha gave you?" -</p> -<p> -"No, Master Michelangelo," retorted the girl, "you are not worthy to -look at it. In the days when I cut a lock of your hair to wear upon my -heart, you were not unkind as you have become since." -</p> -<p> -"If I were in your place," said Michel, ironically, "I would take the -locket from my bosom and throw it in the face of the unkind brother who -teases me so!" -</p> -<p> -"Here! take it!" said Mila, pulling the locket from her bosom, and -handing it to Michel with an angry gesture; "you can take back your -hair, I don't care for it any longer. But return me the locket; I care -for that because it was given me by somebody kinder than you." -</p> -<p> -"Two lockets just alike!" said Michel to himself, placing them side by -side in his hand; "is this the sequel of my vision?" -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap19"></a>XIX -<br><br> -YOUTHFUL LOVES -</h4> - -<p> -Michel dared not ask his sister for the explanation of such a prodigy. -He ran and shut himself up in his little room, and, seating himself upon -his bed, instead of going to sleep, he opened and compared those two -precisely similar trinkets and their contents. They were absolutely -indistinguishable, as were the two locks of hair; so that, after Michel -had examined and handled them a long while, he no longer knew which -belonged to his sister. Thereupon he recalled a remark of hers, which -had made little impression upon him, although it had seemed somewhat -strange to him for an instant. Mila declared that the lock of hair she -had entrusted to the princess had diminished by one half in the -jeweller's hands. -</p> -<p> -It was not possible to explain that curious fact. The princess did not -know Michel, she had never seen him; he had not returned to Catania when -she had taken Mila's scapulary and exchanged it for this beautiful -locket. It is difficult to believe that a woman can fall in love with a -man simply at sight of a lock of his hair. Michel cudgeled his brains to -no purpose. He could think of no explanation save this, which was far -from satisfactory to his intense curiosity: perhaps the princess had at -some time been attached to someone whose hair was of precisely the same -shade and texture as Michel's. She wore it in a locket. Observing Mila's -fervent adoration of that relic of her brother, she had ordered a locket -just like her own, and had given it to her. -</p> -<p> -But how impossible are the probabilities of life to a mind of eighteen -years! Michel thought it much more probable that he had been loved -unseen; and when he was overcome by sleep, the two lockets were still in -his half-open hand. -</p> -<p> -When he awoke about noon, he found only one of them; the other had -probably fallen among the bedclothes. He pulled his bed to pieces and -turned it upside down; passed an hour searching in all the cracks of his -floor, and all the folds of his clothes, which lay on a chair by his -pillow. One of the two talismans had disappeared. -</p> -<p> -"This is a trick of Signorina Mila," he thought. His door closed with a -latch only, and the girl was singing over her work in the room -adjoining. -</p> -<p> -"Ah! you are up at last!" she said with a pout, when he appeared in her -presence. "That is very lucky! Now will you kindly return my locket?" -</p> -<p> -"I should say, my dear, that you came and took it while I was asleep." -</p> -<p> -"Why, you have it in your hand!" she cried, seizing his hand -unexpectedly. "Come, open your fingers, or I will prick them with my -needle." -</p> -<p> -"I will do it," he said, "but this locket isn't yours. You have already -taken the one that belongs to you." -</p> -<p> -"Really!" said Mila, snatching the trinket from her brother's hand, for -he made little resistance, but watched her closely; "this is not mine? -Do you think I can be mistaken?" -</p> -<p> -"In that case you have the other, Mila." -</p> -<p> -"What other? Have you one also? I don't know anything about that; but -this is mine. Here is the princess's crest. It is my property; it is my -souvenir. Take back your hair. If we are at odds, I am willing you -should; but this locket shall never leave me again." -</p> -<p> -And she replaced it in her bosom, by no means resolved to take out the -hair, for which she cared more than she chose to admit in her childish -wrath. -</p> -<p> -Michel returned to his room. The other locket must be there. There was -so much candor and confidence in Mila's expression and her words! But he -found nothing, and so he determined to search his sister's room as soon -as she had gone out. Meanwhile, he tried to make peace with her. He -coaxed and cajoled her, and, vowing that all that had happened was only -a jest on his part, reproached her with being proud and sensitive. -</p> -<p> -Mila consented to make peace and to kiss her brother; but she continued -to be somewhat downcast, and her lovely cheeks were tinged with a less -delicate flush than usual. -</p> -<p> -"You chose a bad time to tease me," she said. "There are days when one -does not feel in the mood to endure raillery, and I thought that you -were teasing me on purpose to make sport of my disappointment." -</p> -<p> -"Your disappointment, Mila!" cried Michel, pressing her to his heart -with a smile. "Have you been disappointed? Because you didn't see the -ball last night, I suppose? Oh! you are a very unfortunate little girl, -and no mistake!" -</p> -<p> -"In the first place, Michel, I am not a little girl. I shall soon be -fifteen, and I am old enough to have disappointments. As for the ball, I -cared very little about it; and now that it's over, I don't think about -it at all." -</p> -<p> -"What is this great sorrow, then? Do you want a new dress?" -</p> -<p> -"No." -</p> -<p> -"Your nightingale isn't dead?" -</p> -<p> -"Don't you hear him singing?" -</p> -<p> -"Perhaps our neighbor Magnani's big tom-cat has eaten up your -turtle-dove?" -</p> -<p> -"I would like to see him try it! I tell you that I don't bother my head -about Signor Magnani or his cat." -</p> -<p> -The tone in which she uttered Magnani's name made Michel prick up his -ears, and, upon glancing at his little sister's face, he saw that she -had her eyes fixed, not upon her work—although her head was -bent—but upon a wooden gallery where Magnani usually worked, -opposite Mila's chamber. At that moment Magnani was walking along his -gallery. He did not look at Mila's window, and Mila did not look at her -work. -</p> -<p> -"Mila, my darling child," said Michel, taking both her hands and kissing -them, "do you see that young man with the absent-minded air?" -</p> -<p> -"Well," Mila replied, as the blood came and went in her cheeks, "what -about him?" -</p> -<p> -"I want to tell you, my child, that if your heart is ever inclined to -love, you must not think of that young man." -</p> -<p> -"What nonsense!" said the girl, shaking her head and trying hard to -laugh. "He is the last man of whom I should ever think, I tell you -that!" -</p> -<p> -"Then you will be exceedingly wise," rejoined Michel, "for Magnani's -heart is not free; he has long been in love with another woman." -</p> -<p> -"That doesn't concern me, and is of no possible interest to me," said -Mila; and, bending over her work, she turned her wheel swiftly. But -Michel was pained to see two great tears fall upon her skein of silk. -</p> -<p> -Michel's heart was very tender. He understood the feeling of shame by -which his young sister was overwhelmed, and which added a fresh pang to -those from which he himself was suffering. He saw the superhuman efforts -that the poor child made to stifle her sobs and overcome her confusion. -He felt that that was not the moment to humiliate her more by insisting -upon an explanation. -</p> -<p> -So he pretended to see nothing; and, thinking that he would reason with -her when she was more self-possessed, he left the room where she was -working. -</p> -<p> -But he was so excited himself that he could not stay in his own room. He -made one last, fruitless search, and, abandoning the hope of finding the -vanished talisman,—hoping that it would appear when he was not -thinking about it, as often happens in the case of lost -articles,—he determined to go and see Magnani and make peace with -him; for they had parted in anger, and Michel, unable to avoid a secret -feeling of pride in the thought that the princess was madly in love with -him, felt that his generous solicitude for his unfortunate rival -redoubled. -</p> -<p> -He crossed the yard and entered Magnani's father's workroom on the -ground floor. But he looked in vain for Antonio in his room. His old -mother told him that he had gone out a moment before; but could not tell -him in what direction he had gone. Michel thereupon strolled into the -country, half thinking of overtaking him, half absorbed by his own -musings. -</p> -<p> -Meanwhile Magnani, impelled by the same feelings of loyalty and regard, -had determined to go and see Michel. His modest dwelling had a second -exit, and the one that he took led less directly, through a dark and -narrow passage at the rear of the other two houses, to the poor, -old-fashioned house which Pier-Angelo occupied with his children. -</p> -<p> -Thus the two young men did not meet. Magnani went upstairs and looked -into a large, bare, dilapidated room, where he saw Pier-Angelo stretched -out on his cot-bed, in a deep sleep which the emotions of love and youth -no longer disturbed. -</p> -<p> -Thereupon Magnani climbed the staircase, or rather the ladder leading to -the attics, and entered Michel's chamber, which adjoined Mila's. -</p> -<p> -Michel's door was open; Magnani went in, and, finding no one there, was -about to go out again, when the cyclamen, which Michel had carefully -placed in an old Venetian glass of curious workmanship, caught his eye. -Unquestionably Magnani was the soul of probity, the incarnation of -scrupulous honor; and yet it is not certain that, if he had dreamed that -that flower had fallen from the princess's bouquet, he would not have -stolen it. But it did not occur to him; he concluded simply that Michel, -like himself, had a passion for the cyclamen. -</p> -<p> -Suddenly Magnani was roused from his contemplation by a sound which -startled him. Somebody was weeping in the adjoining room. He heard sobs, -stifled but heart-rending, behind the partition, not far from the door -between the two rooms. Magnani was well aware that Mila lived on that -floor. He had often nodded to her smilingly from his gallery, when he -saw her, blooming with youth and beauty, at her window. But, as she had -made no impression on his heart, and as he had never spoken to her -except as to a child, he did not consider at that moment the exact -location of her attic, nor indeed did he think of her at all. To be sure -there was nothing masculine in her manner of weeping, but in Michel's -voice there were some tones so youthful and so soft that it might well -be he who was mourning so. Magnani thought only of his young comrade, -and, full of solicitude for him, hastily opened the door and entered -Mila's room. -</p> -<p> -At sight of him the girl uttered a loud shriek and fled to the farthest -corner of her room, hiding her face. -</p> -<p> -"Mila, my dear little neighbor," cried honest Magnani, standing -respectfully near the door, "forgive me, do not be afraid of me; I made -a mistake, I heard someone weeping as if his heart would break, and I -thought it was your brother. I didn't stop to think, but rushed in here, -in my anxiety—but, great heaven, my dear child, why are you weeping -so?" -</p> -<p> -"I am not weeping," replied Mila, stealthily wiping her eyes, and -pretending to look for something in an old chest of drawers against the -wall; "you are entirely mistaken. I thank you, Signor Magnani; but leave -me, you ought not to come into my room like this." -</p> -<p> -"True, true, I know it, I am going away, Mila; and yet I don't dare to -leave you thus, you are too much overcome, I can see. I am afraid you -are sick. Let me go and wake your father, so that he can come and -comfort you." -</p> -<p> -"No, no! do not think of it! I don't want you to wake him!" -</p> -<p> -"But, my dear ——" -</p> -<p> -"No, I tell you, Magnani; you would make me much worse if you should -cause my father that trouble." -</p> -<p> -"But what is the matter, Mila? Your father has not been scolding you, -has he? You never deserve to be scolded! And he is so kind, so gentle, -he loves you so dearly!" -</p> -<p> -"Oh! no, indeed, he never said a word to me except words of love and -kindness. You see that you are dreaming, Magnani; I have no sorrow, I -was not weeping." -</p> -<p> -"Why, I can see from here that your face is swollen and your eyes red, -my dear girl. What heart-breaking grief can one have at your age, -lovely, and beloved by all, as you are?" -</p> -<p> -"Don't laugh at me, I beg you," said Mila, proudly. But she turned pale, -and trying to sit down calmly, fell sobbing upon her chair. -</p> -<p> -Magnani had so little suspicion that he could possibly be anything more -than a friend in her eyes, and his feeling for her was so placid that he -no longer thought of leaving her. He approached her without any other -emotion than affectionate interest, sat down at her feet on a cushion of -plaited straw, and, taking her hand in his, questioned her with an -assumption of something like paternal authority. -</p> -<p> -Poor Mila was so perturbed that she had not the strength to repel him. -It was the first time that he had ever spoken to her so near and with -such evident affection. Oh! how happy she would have been but for the -fatal words that Michel had said to her! But those words were still -ringing in her ears, and Mila was too proud to allow her secret to be -suspected. She made a mighty effort, and answered with a smile that her -trouble was a matter of little importance, and was due simply to a -little quarrel she had had with her brother. -</p> -<p> -"Michel quarrel with you, my poor angel?" said Magnani, watching her -carefully; "is it possible? Oh! no! you are mistaken. Michel loves you -more than all the world, and he is quite right. If you had quarreled, he -would be here, as I am, at your feet, and much more eloquent than I to -comfort you; for he is your brother, and I am only your friend. But, -however that may be, I am going to find him; I will scold him roundly, -if he is in the wrong. But it will be enough for him to see you cast -down and changed as you are, to make him much unhappier than you." -</p> -<p> -"Magnani," said Mila, detaining him as he rose, "I forbid you to go and -find Michel. That would be giving too much importance to a piece of -childish folly. Pay no more attention to it, and do not speak of it to -him or to my father. I assure you that I have already forgotten it, and -that my brother and I will be entirely reconciled to-night." -</p> -<p> -"If it is only a childish quarrel," said Magnani, sitting down beside -her, "why, your susceptibilities are altogether too keen, my dear Mila. -I have sisters too, and when I was not so sensible as I am now, when I -was Michel's age, I used to tease them a little. But they didn't cry; -they paid back my mischief with interest, and I always came out second -best." -</p> -<p> -"That was because they had spirit, and apparently I haven't enough to -defend myself," replied Mila, sadly. -</p> -<p> -"You have a great deal of spirit, Mila, I have noticed that; you are not -Pier-Angelo's daughter and Michel's sister for nothing, and you have a -better education than the other young women of your station. But you -have more heart than spirit, since you can defend yourself only with -your tears!" -</p> -<p> -Magnani's praise comforted and pained the girl at the same time. She was -flattered to find that, while not seeming to pay any heed to her, he had -observed her closely enough to be able to do her justice. But the -tranquil kindliness of his manner told her plainly enough that Michel -had not deceived her. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap20"></a>XX -<br><br> -BEL PASSO AND MAL PASSO -</h4> - -<p> -Suddenly Mila formed a firm resolution; for, as Magnani had truly said, -she was superior to most of the young girls of her class in education, -and Pier-Angelo had cultivated in her mind ideas as noble as his own. -She had, in addition, a tincture of youthful enthusiasm, blended with -the habit of courage and self-sacrifice, which her good taste and -ingenuousness led her to conceal beneath apparent heedlessness. It is -the acme of stoicism to be able to sacrifice oneself with a smile on -one's face, and with no outward indication of suffering. -</p> -<p> -"My dear Magnani," she said, rising with her accustomed serenity of -expression, "I thank you for your friendly interest in me; you have done -me good, and I feel perfectly calm. Let me work now, for I didn't do my -<i>day's work</i> in the night, as you did; I must do my stint and earn my -wages. Go away, so that people may not say that I am lazy, and that I -waste my time chattering with the neighbors." -</p> -<p> -"Good-bye, Mila," replied the young man. "I pray God to restore your -peace of mind to-day, and to make you happy all the days of your life." -</p> -<p> -"Thanks, Magnani," said Mila, offering him her hand. "I rely upon your -friendship from this day." -</p> -<p> -The air of noble resolution with which that girl, so crushed by grief a -moment before, offered him her hand, and the tone in which she -pronounced the word friendship, like an heroic farewell to all her -illusions, were not understood by Magnani; and yet there was in that -gesture and that tone something that moved him deeply, although he could -not guess the cause. Mila was transformed before him in the twinkling of -an eye; she no longer seemed a charming child, she was serious and -beautiful as a woman. -</p> -<p> -He took that little hand in his hard and powerful one, which did not -hesitate to seal the friendly compact by a fraternal grasp, but which -trembled suddenly at the touch of a hand as soft and dainty as a -princess's; for Mila was very careful of her person, and knew how to be -at once industrious and refined in her occupations. -</p> -<p> -Magnani fancied that he held Agatha's hand, which, by a strange caprice -of fortune, he had touched once in his life. He felt a sudden wave of -emotion, and drew Pier-Angelo's daughter to his heart as if to give her -a brotherly kiss. He dared not do it; but she offered her forehead -innocently, saying to herself that it would be the first and the last, -and that she would cherish its memory as the symbol of an everlasting -farewell to all her hopes. -</p> -<p> -Magnani had been living for five years under a self-imposed law of -absolute chastity. It was as if he had taken an oath to imitate Agatha's -exceptionally austere mode of life, and, engrossed by a fixed idea, had -determined to waste away by slow degrees, knowing naught of love or -marriage. He had never kissed a woman, not even his sisters, since he -had carried in his heart that chimera of a hopeless passion. It may be -that he had made a vow to that effect in some moment of painful -agitation. But he forgot that grim vow when he felt young Mila's lovely -dark head resting trustfully against his breast. He gazed at her for an -instant, and those limpid black eyes, in which there was an expression -of grief and courage which he could not understand, cast him into a sort -of delirium of surprise and passion. His lips did not touch Mila's brow; -they turned away trembling from her bright red lips, and rested upon her -soft brown neck, perhaps a second or two longer than was absolutely -necessary to cement a bond of fraternity. -</p> -<p> -Mila turned pale, her eyes closed, and a sorrowful sigh escaped from her -broken heart. Magnani, shocked beyond measure, placed her upon a chair -and fled, overwhelmed with dismay, astonishment, and, perhaps, remorse. -</p> -<p> -Mila, being left alone, was very near fainting; she staggered to the -door and bolted it; then she knelt on the floor beside her bed, hid her -face in her hands, and remained there absorbed by her suffering. But she -had ceased to weep, and grief gave place to an excitement instinct with -strenuous and ardent aspirations. Pier-Angelo's optimism, that faith in -destiny which is a sort of superstition in stout hearts, awoke within -her. She rose, rearranged her hair, looked in her mirror, and said -aloud, as she resumed her work: -</p> -<p> -"I don't know why, nor when, nor how, but he shall love me; I have a -right to desire it, I do desire it, and God will assist me!" -</p> -<p> -When Michel returned, he found her tranquil and lovely, gazing intently -at a copy of the <i>Virgin of the Chair</i>, which he had made for her with -much care, and which she had hung, not in her alcove, but above her -mirror. He congratulated himself that he had allowed her to give way -freely to her first outburst of grief, and that she had recovered her -strength of will in her solitary meditation. He almost reached her side -before she heard him; but she saw his face in the glass as he leaned -over her to kiss her on the neck. -</p> -<p> -"Kiss me there," she said, offering him her cheek, "but never on my -neck!" -</p> -<p> -"Why that prohibition for your brother, little madcap?" -</p> -<p> -"It is a whim of mine," she said. "You are beginning to have a beard and -I don't want you to scratch my skin." -</p> -<p> -"Ah! you flatter me exceedingly," laughed Michel; "that fear does too -much honor to my budding moustache! I had no idea that it could frighten -anybody as yet! But do you care less for the smoothness of your cheek -than of your pretty neck, little Mila? Is that because you have just -been admiring this beautiful Madonna's neck?" -</p> -<p> -"Perhaps so!" she said. "It is very beautiful, really, and I would like -to resemble that face in every feature." -</p> -<p> -"I should judge that you were making the attempt before your mirror. -These are very profane ideas to indulge in before that holy image!" -</p> -<p> -"No, Michel," replied Mila, gravely. "There is nothing profane in my -conception of her beauty. I have never understood it as I have to-day, -and I fancied that no one had ever been able to create so beautiful a -face as Princess Agatha's. But I see now that Raphael went farther. He -gave his Madonna more strength of character, if not more tranquillity. -That divine face is intensely alive; it has a great deal of will; it is -sure of itself. She is the most virtuous, but, also, the most loving of -women. She seems to say: 'Love me because I love you.'" -</p> -<p> -"Well, well, Mila, where did you find that?" cried Michel, looking at -his sister in surprise. "I fancied I was dreaming as I listened to you!" -</p> -<p> -The conversation of the two children was interrupted by the arrival of -their father. He came to suggest to Michel that they should go and -demolish the ball-room. All the workmen who had taken part in building -it had agreed to meet at three o'clock in the afternoon, to rid the -palace of that temporary structure. -</p> -<p> -"I know," said Pier-Angelo, "that the princess is anxious to preserve -your frescoes on canvas, and I want you to help me roll them up and -carry them safely to one of the galleries of the palace." -</p> -<p> -Michel followed his father, but they were no sooner outside the city -than the old man stopped. -</p> -<p> -"My boy," he said, "I am going to the villa alone, for I must talk a -moment with the princess about that infernal abbé, who disguises -himself as a monk to spy upon something or somebody in her house. Do you -walk about two miles to the northwest, following the path that begins -here, and turning neither to right nor left. In an hour you will reach -the Capuchin convent of Bel Passo, where your uncle Fra Angelo told me -that he would wait for you till sunset. He has satisfied himself that -the suspicious monk whom we pointed out to him was no other than Ninfo, -and, without deigning to inform me what he supposes his designs to be, -he told me that he wished to have a serious talk with you. I suspect -that your uncle knows more than we do about the cardinal's condition and -the abbé's plans; but he is a man of sense and foresight. He has -probably made inquiries during the morning, and I shall be very glad to -have his opinion." -</p> -<p> -Michel followed the path, and, after an hour's walk through the most -beautiful country that the mind can conceive, he reached the gate of his -uncle's convent. -</p> -<p> -This convent was situated on a hill above a small village in the -cultivated district, gay with flowers and dotted with country houses, -which lies at the foot of Ætna. The building was sheltered by the great -trunks of venerable trees, and the garden, exposed to the African sun, -commanded a magnificent view bounded by the sea. -</p> -<p> -This romantic spot, strewn with formidable masses of lava, bore two -names which had been given it in turn, and which, in view of the -uncertainty as to which it was more likely to retain, were bestowed upon -it indifferently at the time of which we write. The location being -superb, the soil fertile, and the climate mild and agreeable, it had -been called on general principles <i>Bel Passo</i>. Then had come the -terrible eruptions of Ætna and Monte-Rosso, which had overwhelmed and -ruined it; whereupon it had been christened <i>Mal Passo</i>. Then, as -time passed on, the village and convent were rebuilt, the lava broken -up, cultivation resumed, and they gradually reverted to the original -complimentary name. But these two contrasting designations were still -confused in the memories and the customs of the people. The old men, who -had seen their country in its primitive splendor, said <i>Bel Passo</i>, -as did the children, who had seen it only after it had emerged from -chaos, and had been restored to life, as it were. But the men who had -seen the spectacle of the catastrophe and experienced its disastrous -results in their early years—who had had no other cradle than toil -and terror, and were just beginning to obtain some result from their -labors—called it <i>Mal Passo</i> more frequently than <i>Bel -Passo</i>. -</p> -<p> -For a very long time that gorge had changed its name thus, twice or -thrice in a century, according to circumstances; an example of the -heedless courage of the human race, which builds its nest beside the -broken branch, and continues to love and beautify and sing the praises -of the domain which it has with difficulty reconquered from the tempests -of yesterday. -</p> -<p> -However, this spot afforded equal justification for both of the names -which disputed possession of it. It was an epitome of all the horrors -and all the charms of nature. Where the river of fire had poured its -destructive waves, the ridges of lava, the gray wastes of slag, the -ruins of the former soil, upturned, flooded or baked, recalled the evil -days, when the population was reduced to begging, and wives and mothers -were in mourning; Niobe changed to stone at the sight of her murdered -children. But near at hand old fig-trees, reanimated by the passage of -the flame, had put forth new branches, and strewed with their succulent -fruit the new grass and the worn-out soil, newly steeped in the most -generous juices. -</p> -<p> -Everything that did not lie directly in the path of the molten -lava—everything that was saved by an inequality of the -ground—had benefited by the destruction that had passed so near. -So it is with mankind, and death everywhere makes room for life. Michel -noticed that, in some places, one of two twin trees had disappeared as -if carried away by a cannon-ball, and displayed its charred stump beside -the proud trunk which seemed to tower triumphantly over its ruins. -</p> -<p> -He found his uncle occupied in breaking away the rock to enlarge a bed -planted with flourishing vegetables. The garden had been dug out of -solid lava. The paths were covered with mosaics of enamelled porcelain, -and the beds of vegetables and flowers, cut from the very heart of the -rock, and made of earth brought from elsewhere, resembled gigantic boxes -buried to the edges. To make the resemblance more striking, between the -beds and the porcelain paths they had left the black lava, as it were a -border of box or thyme, and at each corner of the beds it had been -fashioned into a ball, the sacramental ornament of our orange-tree -boxes. -</p> -<p> -It will be seen, therefore, that nothing could be neater or more ugly, -more symmetrical or more depressing, in a word, more monastical than -that garden, an object of pride and affection to the good monks. But the -beauty of the flowers, the splendor of the bunches of grapes which -enveloped heavy pillars of lava, the soft murmur of the fountain, which -sent forth a thousand silvery threads to refresh each plant in its rocky -cell, and above all, the view from that terrace with its southern -exposure, afforded ample compensation for the melancholy effect of such -hard and patient toil. -</p> -<p> -Fra Angelo, armed with an iron sledge hammer, had removed his frock in -order to be more free in his movements. Clad only in a short brown -jacket, he displayed the mighty muscles of his hairy arms in the -sunlight, and at every blow that he dealt the rocky mass, shivering it -into fragments, he gave a sort of savage grunt. But, when he saw the -young artist, he drew himself up and showed a mild and serene -countenance. -</p> -<p> -"You come just in time, young man," he said. "I was thinking about you, -and I have many questions to ask you." -</p> -<p> -"I thought, uncle, that you had, on the contrary, many things to tell -me." -</p> -<p> -"Yes, doubtless I should have, if I knew what sort of man you are; but, -except for the tie of relationship that unites us, you are a stranger to -me; and, whatever your father may say, blinded perhaps by his affection, -I do not know whether you are really a man. What do you think of the -position in which you find yourself?" -</p> -<p> -"To avoid my having to answer your questions by asking others, you would -do well, perhaps, my dear uncle, to put them clearly in the first -instance. When I know what my position is, I shall be able to tell you -what I think of it." -</p> -<p> -"Then you know nothing of the secrets in which you are concerned?" said -the Capuchin, examining Michel with a stern and searching gaze; "you -have not even a suspicion of them? You have never guessed anything? -Nobody has ever told you anything?" -</p> -<p> -"I know that my father was involved in a political conspiracy long ago, -about the time of my birth, I think. But at that time I was quite unable -to decide whether he was in the right or in the wrong. Since then he has -never explained his position to me in that respect." -</p> -<p> -"He lacks confidence in you, then, or you take little interest in his -welfare?" -</p> -<p> -"I have questioned him at times; he has always answered evasively. I -have never drawn therefrom, as you do, uncle, the conclusion that he -distrusted me; that would have seemed impossible to me; but I have -always thought that, having really had a hand in the business, he was -bound by oaths, as is the case in all secret societies. So I should have -thought that I failed in the respect I owe him, if I had questioned him -farther." -</p> -<p> -"That is well said; but does it not conceal a profound indifference -touching the affairs of your native country, and a selfish disregard of -the sacred cause of its liberty?" -</p> -<p> -Michel was a little embarrassed by this question, so concisely put. -</p> -<p> -"Come," continued Fra Angelo, "answer without fear, I am only asking for -the truth." -</p> -<p> -"Very well, I will answer you, uncle," said Michel, meeting the monk's -cold glance, which distressed him in spite of himself, for he would have -liked to have the regard of that man, whose face, voice, and bearing -commanded his respect and sympathy. "I will tell you what I think, since -you wish to know it, and also what I am, at the risk of losing your -good-will. Convince me that the cause of liberty, so far as Italy and -Sicily are concerned, is really the cause of the men who are deprived of -liberty, and you will see that I will devote myself to it, I do not say -with enthusiasm, but with frantic zeal. But alas! hitherto I have always -seen men sacrifice themselves simply to change masters, while the noble -and wealthy classes used them for their own profit, in the name of this -or that idea. That is why, while I am not indifferent to the spectacle -of the misery and oppression of my fellow-countrymen, I have never -chosen to conspire under the auspices and for the benefit of the -patricians, who are so eager in inciting us to conspire." -</p> -<p> -"O mankind! O mankind! <i>everyone for himself</i> will always be your -motto!" cried the Capuchin, springing to his feet as if beside himself -with indignation; then, resuming his seat with a strange and bitter -laugh, he added, looking at Michel with an ironical expression: "Signor -prince, <i>excellenza</i>, you are pleased to make sport of us, I judge!" -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap21"></a>XXI -<br><br> -FRA ANGELO -</h4> - -<p> -The Capuchin's strange outbreak caused Michel the most profound -embarrassment; but, being determined to maintain his independence and -sincerity, he affected a tranquillity which he did not feel. -</p> -<p> -"Why do you call me <i>prince</i> and <i>excellenza</i>, my dear uncle?" he -said, forcing himself to smile; "is it because I spoke like a patrician?" -</p> -<p> -"Precisely; every one for himself, I tell you!" replied Fra Angelo, -resuming his melancholy gravity. "If that is the spirit of the age which -you have been studying at Rome, if that is the new philosophy upon which -the young men in other lands are fed, we have not seen the end of our -misfortunes, and we can continue to tell our beads in silence. Alas! -alas! here is a fine state of affairs! the children of our people will -not stir for fear of saving their former masters with them, and the -patricians will not dare to lift a finger for fear of being devoured by -their former slaves! God save the mark! Meanwhile, the foreign tyranny -laughs and grows fat upon our spoils; our mothers and sisters ask alms -or prostitute themselves; our brothers and our friends die on dung-heaps -or on the gallows! It is a noble spectacle, and I am amazed, -Michelangelo, that you came from Rome, where you had before your eyes -naught but the splendors of the Holy See and the masterpieces of art, to -contemplate our poor Sicily, with her population of beggars, her ruined -nobles, her lazy or brutalized monks! Why did you not take a pleasure -trip to Naples? you would have seen wealthier nobles there and a more -opulent government, made so by the taxes which are causing us to die of -starvation; a more tranquil people, who worry but little over the fate -of their neighbors. 'What do we care for Sicily? it is a conquered -country and its people are not our brothers.'—That is what they say -at Naples. Go to Palermo, where they will tell you that Catania is not to -be pitied and can save itself unassisted, with its silk worms. Go to -Messina, where they will tell you that Messina is no part of Sicily, and -that they have no use for its bad counsels and its evil spirit. Go to -France; the newspapers there say every day that pious, cowardly peoples -like us deserve their fate. Go to Ireland; they will tell you that they -want no help from the heretics of France. Go everywhere, and everywhere -you will find yourself well abreast of the ideas of your time; for -people will say to you everywhere what you just said: 'Everyone for -himself!'" -</p> -<p> -Fra Angelo's words, his tone and his countenance made a deep impression -upon Michel, and he was honest enough to confess it to himself at once. -The artistic chord was struck, and what would have seemed to him in any -other man mere sophistry and declamation, seemed simple and mighty in -the mouth of that monk. -</p> -<p> -"My father," he said with ingenuous candor, "it may be that you are -right to scold me as you do. I have no idea at all; and yet I might -offer, in defence of my scepticism, many arguments which come and go in -my mind as I listen to you. It does not seem to me that I am as wicked -and as contemptible as you think. But with you I am much more eager to -improve myself than to defend myself. Please go on." -</p> -<p> -"Yes, yes, I understand," rejoined Fra Angelo, proudly. "You are a -painter, and you are studying me; that is all. This language seems -strange to you in the mouth of a monk, and you are thinking of nothing -but the picture you will paint of St. John preaching in the wilderness!" -</p> -<p> -"Do not laugh at me, I entreat you, uncle; you do not need to do it to -show me that you have more wit and learning than I. You chose to -question me; I told you my thought honestly. I hate oppression, whether -it appears in the shape of the past or the present. I should not like to -be the mere instrument of another man's passions and to sacrifice my -future as an artist to the reconstruction of the fortunes and honors of -a few great families who are naturally ungrateful and instinctively -despotic. I believe that a revolution in such a country as ours would -have no other result. I feel that I am man enough to take a gun to -defend my father's life and my sister's honor. But, when it comes to -joining some mysterious society, whose members act with their eyes -closed, and see neither the hand that guides them nor the goal toward -which they are proceeding—unless you can prove to me forcibly and -convincingly that it is my duty—I will not do it, though you were to -curse me, my dear uncle, or to make sport of me, which is much worse." -</p> -<p> -"What makes you think that I want you to join anything of that sort?" -said Fra Angelo, with a shrug. "I admire your distrustful nature. I like -to see that your first feeling with regard to your father's brother is -the fear of being tricked by him. I wanted to know you, young man, and I -am very much cast down by what I know of you." -</p> -<p> -"What do you know of me, pray?" cried Michel, testily. "Come, try me in -proper form, and let me know what my crimes are." -</p> -<p> -"Your whole crime consists in not being the man you should be," replied -Fra Angelo; "and that is very unfortunate for us." -</p> -<p> -"I understand no better." -</p> -<p> -"I know that you cannot understand what I am thinking at this moment! -otherwise you would not have spoken so before me." -</p> -<p> -"In heaven's name, explain yourself," said Michel, unable to endure -these attacks any longer. "It seems to me that we are fighting a duel in -the darkness. I cannot parry your blows, and I apparently strike you -when I am trying to defend myself. With what do you reproach me, or what -do you ask of me? If I am a man of my time and of my class, is it my -fault? I have just stepped foot for the first time on this island -devoted to the worship of the past. I am not an atheist, but I am not -pious. I do not believe in the superiority of certain classes, nor in -the necessary inferiority of my own. I do not feel that I am the born -servant of the old patricians, the old prejudices, and the old -institutions of my native land. I place myself on a level with the -haughtiest and most venerated heads, in order to pass judgment on them, -so that I may know whether I should bend my head before true merit, or -protect myself against unwarranted prestige. That is the whole of it, -uncle, I give you my word. Now you know me. I admire what is noble, -great and sincere before God. My heart is susceptible of affection and -my mind prostrates itself before virtue. I love art, and I am ambitious -of renown, I agree; but I love serious art and seek pure renown. I will -not sacrifice any one of my duties to them; but I will not accept false -duties, and I will spurn false principles. Am I a miserable wretch for -that? and must I, in order to have the honor of being a true Sicilian, -become a monk in your convent, or a brigand on the mountain?" -</p> -<p> -Michel's spirited outburst did not displease the Capuchin. He listened -to it with interest, and his face softened. But the young man's last -words produced the effect of an electric shock upon him. He leaped up -from his bench, and seizing Michel's arm with that herculean strength of -which he had given him a specimen in the morning, exclaimed: "What is -that metaphor? What are you talking about?" -</p> -<p> -But, observing Michel's air of stupefaction at this new outbreak, he -began to laugh: "Well, even if you do know it—even if your father has -told you—what does it matter? Other people know it, and I am none the -worse off. Well, my child, you have unconsciously used a very powerful -illustration; it was what one might call the marrow of the truth. All -men are not made to be fed upon it; there are milder and more digestible -truths which suffice for the majority. But to those who desire to be -absolutely logical in their opinions and their acts, what seems to you a -paradox is the merest commonplace. You look at me in amazement? I tell -you that you did, without knowing it, speak like an oracle when you said -that, in order to have the honor of being a true Sicilian, one must be a -monk in my convent, or a brigand on the mountain. I should prefer that -you would be one or the other, rather than a cosmopolitan artist as you -aspire to be. Listen to a story, and try to understand it: -</p> -<p> -"There was once in Sicily a poor devil, but blessed with a vivid -imagination and a certain amount of courage, who, being unable to endure -the disasters by which his country was overwhelmed, took his gun one -fine morning and went into the mountains, resolved to lose his own life, -or to destroy one by one as many of the enemy as possible, pending the -day when he could fall upon them in a body with the outlaws whom he -joined. They formed a large and select band. Their leader was a noble, -the last descendant of one of the greatest families of the -country—Prince Cæsar de Castro-Reale. Remember that name. You may -never have heard it, but a time will come when it will have more -interest for you. -</p> -<p> -"In the woods and mountains the prince had taken the name of -<i>Destatore</i>,<a id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> by which name he was known, loved, and feared for ten -years, nobody suspecting that he was the young and brilliant nobleman -who had run through his fortune at Palermo, and led a most dissipated -life with his friends and mistresses. -</p> -<p> -"Before speaking of the poor devil who turned brigand from patriotic -despair, I must say a few words of the noble patrician who had become a -leader of brigands for the same reason. It will assist you to a -knowledge of your country and your countrymen. <i>Il Destatore</i> was a -man of thirty years, handsome, well-educated, lovable, brave and -generous,—he had all the characteristics of a hero; but he was -persecuted and crushed by the Neapolitan government, who detested him -particularly because of the influence he exerted over the common people. -He resolved to put an end to the life he was leading, to consume the -balance of his fortune, which was reduced every day by taxes to the -profit of the enemy; in short, to drown his sorrow in drunkenness, and -to kill himself or brutalize himself in debauchery. -</p> -<p> -"He succeeded only in ruining himself. His robust health withstood all -sorts of excess, his sorrow survived his dissipation, and when he found -that, instead of falling asleep, he became intensely excited in his -cups, that a frantic rage took possession of him, and that it would be -necessary for him to run a sword through his body, or, as he said, to -eat à la Neapolitan, he disappeared and became a bandit. He was -supposed to have been drowned, and his inheritance never caused his -nephews any great embarrassment or afforded much profit to the -authorities. -</p> -<p> -"Thereafter he was a tiger, a devouring lion, who spread terror through -the country districts and avenged his fatherland in the bloodiest way. -The poor devil whom I mentioned at the outset of my story became -passionately attached to him, and served him with fanatical loyalty. He -never stopped to think whether he was <i>worshipping the past</i>, or -bending the knee to a man who deemed himself superior to him, but who -was only his equal before God; whether he was fighting and risking his -life for the benefit of a <i>master</i>, who might prove to be -<i>ungrateful and despotic</i>; whether, after destroying the foreign -tyranny, as they hoped to do, they would fall again under the yoke of -the <i>old prejudices</i>, the <i>old abuses</i>, the nobles, and the -monks. No, all those shades of distrust were too subtle for such a -straightforward and simple mind as his. To beg would have seemed a -degradation to him in those days; and as for work! why he had never done -anything in his life but work, and work zealously, for he loved work, -and was not afraid of it. But I do not know whether you have noticed as -yet that in Sicily every man does not work who wants to. Although we -have the richest and most fertile soil in the world, taxation has -destroyed commerce, agriculture, all the industries and all the arts. -The man of whom I speak had sought the hardest, roughest, varieties of -labor in the salt marshes, in the mines, even in the very bowels of the -earth, which, on the surface, was devastated and neglected. Work was -lacking everywhere, and all the enterprises in which he had been -employed being abandoned, one after another, he was reduced to begging -alms of his fellows who were as badly off as he, or to stealing. He -preferred to <i>take</i> openly. -</p> -<p> -"But in the <i>Destatore's</i> band they took with discernment and justice. -They maltreated and held to ransom none but enemies of the country or -traitors. They had a secret understanding with every well-meaning or -unfortunate man. They hoped to form a party large enough to attempt to -seize one of the three principal cities, Palermo, Catania, or Messina. -</p> -<p> -"But Palermo, before placing confidence in us, demanded that we should -be led by a noble; and as the <i>Destatore</i> was supposed to be an -adventurer of low birth, he was rejected. If he had told his true name, -it would have been worse. He was execrated throughout the country for -his previous conduct, and that was a difficulty for which he could blame -no one but himself. -</p> -<p> -"At Messina our proposals were rejected, on the plea that the Neapolitan -government had done great things for the commerce of that city, and -that, all things considered, peace at any price, with flourishing trade -and the hope of growing rich, was preferable to a patriotic war with -confusion and anarchy. At Catania they told us that they could not do -anything without the concurrence of Messina, and would not do anything -without that of Palermo. In fact they definitely refused to assist us in -any way; and, after putting us off from year to year, they informed us -that the trade of brigand had gone out of fashion, and that it was very -bad taste to persist in it when we could sell out to the government and -make our fortunes in its service. They forgot to add, it is true, that, -in order to resume his place in society, it would have been necessary -for the Prince of Castro-Reale to become the enemy of his country and -accept some military or civil post, the duties of which consisted in -dispersing insurrections with cannon, and in pursuing, denouncing, and -hanging his old comrades. -</p> -<p> -"The <i>Destatore</i>, seeing that his mission was at an end, and that, in -order to live by his gun, he must thenceforth prey upon his -fellow-countrymen, fell into a state of profound depression. Wandering -among the wildest ravines on the island, and making bold forays, -sometimes to the very gates of the cities, he lived for a time upon -foreign travellers who were rash enough to visit the island. That trade -was not worthy of him, for those foreigners were, for the most part, -entirely free from blame for our ills, and so utterly incapable of -defending themselves, that it was a pity to rob them. The brave fellows -who followed him were disgusted with such wretched business, and every -day brought its quota of desertions. To be sure those scrupulous fellows -did worse when they left him; for some, being frowned upon everywhere, -relapsed into idleness and poverty; others were forced to join the -forces of the government, who considered them good soldiers, and made -gendarmes and spies of them. -</p> -<p> -"Thus there remained with the <i>Destatore</i> only the more determined -malefactors, who robbed and murdered, without scrutiny, everyone who -came in their way. A single one was still honest, and refused to take -part in this highwayman's business. It was the poor devil whose story I -am telling you. Nor on the other hand would he leave his unfortunate -captain; he loved him, and his heart was broken at the idea of -abandoning him to traitors who would murder him some fine morning when -they had no one to rob, or would force him into useless crimes for their -own gratification. -</p> -<p> -"The <i>Destatore</i> did full justice to his poor friend's devotion. He -had appointed him his lieutenant—an absurd title in a band which now -consisted of only a handful of knaves. He still allowed him to tell him -the truth sometimes, and to give him good advice; but as a general rule -he drove him away angrily, for the leader's temper became more and more -soured from day to day, and the savage virtues which he had acquired in -the days of enthusiasm and gallant exploits gave way to the vices of the -past, children of despair, ill-omened guests which resumed possession of -his storm-beaten soul. -</p> -<p> -"Drunkenness and lust took possession of him, as in the early days of -idleness and discouragement. He fell below himself, and one day—an -accursed day, which will never be blotted from my memory—he -committed a terrible crime, a dastardly, detestable crime! If I had -witnessed it, I would have killed him on the spot. But the -<i>Destatore's</i> last remaining friend did not learn of it until the -next day; and on that next day he left him, after bitterly upbraiding -him for his infamy. -</p> -<p> -"Thereupon that poor devil, having no one to love, and being unable to -do anything for his unhappy country, began to wonder what was going to -become of him. His heart, still ardent and youthful, turned toward -religion, and being of the opinion that an honest monk, thoroughly -imbued with the ideas of the Bible, might do a good work, preach virtue -to the powerful, give instruction and assistance to the poor and the -ignorant, he assumed the frock of a Capuchin, received the lesser -orders, and retired to this convent. He accepted the duty of mendicancy -imposed upon his order, as an expiation of his sins, and found it -preferable to pillage, in that he applied thereafter to the rich in -behalf of the poor, without violence and without cunning. It is inferior -in a certain sense; it is less sure and less expeditious. But, all -things considered, a man who wants to do the greatest possible amount of -good should be a brigand in his youth; and he who simply wants to do the -least possible harm should be a monk in his old age: you said so -yourself. -</p> -<p> -"There is my story; do you understand it?" -</p> -<p> -"Perfectly, uncle; it is very interesting indeed, and, in my eyes, the -principal hero of the romance is not the Prince of Castro-Reale, but the -monk who is speaking to me." -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="nind"><a id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a>He who slumbers not.</p></div> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap22"></a>XXII -<br><br> -THE FIRST STEP ON THE MOUNTAIN -</h4> - -<p> -Fra Angelo and his nephew were silent for a few moments. The monk was -absorbed by the bitter yet glorious memories of his younger days. Michel -gazed at him with delight; and, no longer wondering at the martial air -and muscular strength concealed beneath the frock, mused with the -admiration of an artist upon the strange poesy of that life of devotion -to a single idea. If there was something abnormal and, to a certain -extent, entertaining in the history of the Capuchin, who still boasted -of his life as a bandit and seriously regretted it, there was something -truly noble in the way in which the ex-brigand preserved his individual -dignity, compromised as it had been in such extraordinary adventures. -Dagger or crucifix in hand, slaying traitors in the forest or begging -for the poor at the gates of palaces, he was always the same, proud, -ingenuous, unbending in his ideas, seeking to do good by the most -vigorous methods, detesting cowardly acts with such intensity that he -was still quite capable of punishing them with his own hand, utterly -unable to understand the selfish motives by which the world is governed, -or to believe that any man would not be ready at any moment to attempt -the impossible rather than palter with the expedients suggested by cold -circumspection. -</p> -<p> -"Why do you admire the secondary hero of my story?" he said to his -nephew when he emerged from his reverie. "Self-sacrifice and patriotism -must amount to something in your eyes, for that man had no other motive, -and, in the present state of society, would have been only a poor -fool—perhaps a lunatic." -</p> -<p> -"Yes, uncle, sincere devotion and the sacrifice of one's whole -individuality to an idea are noble things, and if I had known you in -those days—if I had been a man grown—I should probably have -followed you into the mountains. I might have been less devotedly -attached than you were to the Prince of Castro-Reale, but I trust I -should have had the same illusions and the same love for the cause of my -country." -</p> -<p> -"Really, young man?" said Fra Angelo, fixing his penetrating eyes upon -Michel's face. -</p> -<p> -"Really, uncle," the young man replied, proudly raising his head, and -sustaining that searching glance with the assurance of conviction. -</p> -<p> -"And is it too late now to attempt anything, my poor boy?" said Fra -Angelo, with a sigh. "Has the time passed when we can believe in the -triumph of the truth, and is the new society, which I have had no better -chance to study in my cloister than in my bandit's cave, determined to -allow itself to be crushed forever?" -</p> -<p> -"I hope not, uncle. If I thought so, it seems to me that I should no -longer have any blood in my veins, inspiration in my brain, or love in -my bosom, and that I should no longer be capable of being an artist. But -still we must recognize the fact that society is not what it must have -been in this island at the beginning of your enterprise. Even if it has -taken some steps toward intellectual discoveries, it is certain that the -impulses of the heart have lost their energy." -</p> -<p> -"And you call that progress?" exclaimed the Capuchin, sorrowfully. -</p> -<p> -"No, far from it," Michel replied; "but how can those who are born -during this state of society breathe any other air than that in which -they were born, or entertain other ideas than those which have been -forced into them? Must we not yield to the evidence, and bend our necks -to the yoke of reality? Did not you yourself, my excellent uncle, when -you passed from the exciting life of a free adventurer to the inflexible -discipline of the cloister, did not you find that society was not what -you thought, and that it was no longer possible to effect anything by -violence?" -</p> -<p> -"Alas! that is true!" replied the monk. "During the ten years that I -passed in the mountains, I did not know what revolutions were taking -place in the manners of civilized mankind. When the <i>Destatore</i> had -sent me into the cities with his agents, to try to make satisfactory terms -with the nobles whom he had known as loyal patriots, and with the rich -and well-educated middle class citizens whom he had known as ardent -liberals, I was forced to the conviction that those people were no -longer the same, that they had brought up their children with other -ideas, that they no longer cared to risk their fortunes and their lives -in those hazardous undertakings in which only faith and enthusiasm can -perform miracles. Yes, yes, the world had progressed—backward, -according to my idea. People no longer talked of anything but making -money, of fighting monopolies, of establishing competition, of founding -new industries. They all deemed themselves rich already, they were in -such haste to become so, and the government could purchase whomsoever it -pleased, by the promise of the most trifling privilege. Yes, they had -but to promise, to hold out hopes of fortune, and the most ardent -patriots pounced upon those hopes, saying: 'industry will give us back -our liberty!' -</p> -<p> -"The common people also believed it, and every employer could bring his -employés to the feet of the new masters, the poor creatures imagining -that their arms were about to bring them in millions. It was a sort of -fever, a universal mania. I sought men, I found only machines. I talked -of the fatherland and honor, they replied by discussing sulphur and silk -weaving. I went away disheartened, but uncertain, not daring to censure -too severely what I had seen, and saying to myself that it was not for -me, ignorant and uncivilized as I was, to pass judgment upon the new -resources which these mysterious discoveries were going to create for my -country. -</p> -<p> -"But since then, great heaven! I have seen the result of these fine -promises so far as the common people are concerned! I have seen some -shrewd fellows restore their own fortunes by ruining their friends and -paying court to the ruling powers. I have seen many families of petty -tradespeople attain great wealth; but I have seen honorable men -persecuted more and more; I have seen, especially, and I see now every -day, more beggars and more poor wretches without bread, without homes, -without education, without a future. And I ask myself what good you have -done with your new ideas, your progress, your theories of equality! You -despise the past, you spit upon the old abuses, and you have killed the -future by creating new abuses more monstrous than the old. The best -among you, the young men, are on the alert for the revolutionary -doctrines of nations more advanced than ours. You consider yourselves -highly enlightened, very strong, when you can say: 'No more nobles, no -more priests, no more convents, no more of anything connected with the -past!' And you do not see that you no longer have the poesy, the faith -and the pride which gave life to the past. -</p> -<p> -"Let us see!" added the Capuchin, folding his arms over his heaving -breast, and eyeing Michel with a half fatherly, half bullying, air: "you -are a very young man, a child! You consider yourself very clever, -because you know what people say and think in society at this moment. -You look at this stupid monk, who passes the day breaking rock in order -to set out an extra row of peppers or tomatoes on the lava next year, -and you say: -</p> -<p> -"'That's a strange way for a man to pass his life! And yet this man was -neither lazy nor dull. He might have been a lawyer or a tradesman, and -have earned money like other men. He might have married, had children, -and taught them to hold their own in society. He preferred to bury -himself alive in a convent and beg! It is because he is under the -influence of the past, and has always been the dupe of the old chimeras -and old superstitions of his country!' -</p> -<p> -"Very good! now, do you know what I think as I look at you? I say to -myself: 'Here is a young man who has come much in contact with the minds -of other men, who has very quickly thrown off the fetters of his class, -who does not choose to share the sufferings of his native country, the -labors of his kinsmen. He will succeed; he is a handsome youth, keener -and more logical in his ideas and his words at eighteen than I was at -thirty. He knows a multitude of things which had seemed useless to me -and which I did not even suspect, until the leisure of the cloister -enabled me to educate myself a little. He stands there, smiling at my -enthusiasm, and, mounted on his sound sense, his premature experience, -his knowledge of men, and his profound study of the science of personal -interest, looks upon me in his mind as a teacher looks upon his pupil. -He is the mature man; and I, an old brigand and old monk, am the -fearless youth, the blind and artless child! Strange transposition! He -represents the new generation, all for gold and glory; and I the dust of -ruins, the silence of the tomb!' -</p> -<p> -"Very good! but let the tocsin sound, let the volcano rumble, let the -people roar, let that black point which we see in the roadstead, and -which is the ship of State, bristle with guns to destroy the city at the -first breath of aspiration toward liberty; let the brigands come down -from the mountains, let the flames soar aloft to the clouds; and in that -last convulsion of the dying fatherland, the young artist will take his -brushes, he will go and take his seat upon a hill, out of all danger, -and he will paint a picture, saying to himself: 'What an unfortunate -people, and what a magnificent spectacle! I must hasten to put it on -canvas! in an instant this people will have ceased to exist, its last -hour is striking!' -</p> -<p> -"Whereas the old monk will take his gun, which is not yet rusty; he will -turn his sleeves back to the shoulder, and without stopping to ask -himself what will be the result of it all, he will rush into the -scrimmage and will fight for his countrymen until his crushed and -trampled body no longer resembles a human being. And I would rather die -so, boy, than survive, as you will do, the destruction of my race!" -</p> -<p> -"My father! my father! do not believe it," cried Michel, conquered and -carried off his feet by the Capuchin's exaltation. "I am not a coward! -and if my Sicilian blood flowed sluggishly on foreign soil, it is -quickened by the fiery breath which your breast exhales. Do not crush me -beneath that terrible malediction! Take me in your arms and set me on -fire with your flames. With you I feel really alive, and this new life -intoxicates and enraptures me!" -</p> -<p> -"Good! here is an honest impulse at last!" said the monk, embracing him. -"I like this better than the fine theories concerning art which you have -persuaded your father to respect blindly." -</p> -<p> -"Forgive me, uncle," rejoined Michel, with a smile, "I do not surrender -on that point. I will maintain with my last breath the dignity and -importance of art. You said just now that in the midst of civil war I -would coolly go and sit down in a corner, to paint episodes of the -conflict instead of fighting. I would fight, I beg you to believe, and I -would fight hard if the object were to drive out the enemy. I would -gladly lay down my life; glory would come to me more quickly so than I -shall attain it by studying painting, and I love glory: in that respect -I fear that I am incorrigible. But if I were in truth doomed to survive -the downfall of my people after fighting in vain for their triumph, it -is probable that I should collect my painful reminiscences and paint -many pictures, to reproduce and perpetuate the memory of those bloody -catastrophes. The more excited and desperate I was, the better and more -striking my work would be. It would speak to men's hearts; it would -arouse admiration for our heroism, pity for our misfortunes, and I -assure you that it might prove that I had served our cause better with -my brush than I had done with my gun." -</p> -<p> -"Very good! very good!" rejoined the monk, with an ingenuous outburst of -sympathy. "That is well said and well thought. We have a brother here -who is a sculptor, and I consider that his work is no less useful to the -cause of religion than mine is to the convent when I break up this lava. -But that brother has faith, and he can carve the features of the Blessed -Madonna without lowering the idea that we form of her. You will paint -fine pictures, Michel; but only on the condition that you have taken -part in the battle with heart and hand, and have been a zealous actor, -not an unmoved spectator of events." -</p> -<p> -"Now we are altogether in accord, my father; there is no genius in art -without conviction and without emotion: but as there is nothing more for -us to dispute about, if you are content with me at last, pray tell me -what is going on, and wherein you expect my assistance. Are we on the -eve of some important undertaking?" -</p> -<p> -Fra Angelo was so excited that he had lost all notion of his -surroundings. Suddenly his gleaming eyes filled with tears, his heaving -breast fell with a deep sigh, his hands, which quivered as if they were -feeling for pistols in his belt, fell back upon the cord around his -waist and touched his chaplet. -</p> -<p> -"Alas! no," he said, glancing about with startled eyes, like a man -suddenly aroused from sleep, "we are on the eve of nothing, and it may -be that I shall die in my cell without ever renewing the priming of my -gun. It was all a dream which you shared with me for an instant; but do -not regret it, young man, it was a noble dream, and that instant, which -did me inestimable good, may have made you a better man. The result of -it has been that I know you and esteem you. Now we are friends for life -and death. Let us not despair of anything. Look at Ætna! it is peaceful -and radiant; it is hardly smoking, and does not make a sound. To-morrow, -perhaps, it may belch forth its burning lava again and utterly destroy -the ground on which we stand. It is the emblem and the image of the -Sicilian people, and the hour for <i>Vespers</i> may strike in the midst of -dancing or of slumber. But the sun is sinking, and I have no more time -to waste before telling you what I have to tell that concerns you. It is -a matter entirely personal to you, of which I desired to speak with you, -and it is a very serious matter. You cannot extricate yourself from it -without my assistance and that of certain other persons who, like -myself, are prepared to risk their liberty, their honor, and their -lives, to save you." -</p> -<p> -"Is it possible, uncle?" cried Michel; "can I not take the risk alone? -must you be involved in the mysterious perils which surround me without -my knowledge? Is it not my father alone who is in danger, and cannot I -save him?" -</p> -<p> -"Your father is in danger, too, but in less danger than you. Do not -question me, but believe me. As I have told you, I detest unnecessary -violence, but I shrink from nothing which is right and necessary. I must -assist you, and I will assist you. You and your father can do nothing -without the Capuchin of Ætna and the remnant of the <i>Destatore's</i> -band. We are all ready. You will forgive me if, before assuming such grave -risks, I desired to ascertain how far you were deserving of the devotion -of which you are to reap the benefits. If you had proved to be an -egotist simply, I would have assisted you to escape; but, if you are -worthy of the name of Sicilian, we will assist you to triumph over -destiny." -</p> -<p> -"And you will not explain ——" -</p> -<p> -"I will explain nothing that it is not necessary for you to know. I am -not allowed to do otherwise; and you must remember one thing, namely, -that by seeking to find out more than I am able to tell you, you will -simply increase our risks and add to the complications of your own -situation. Come, do me the favor to rely upon your uncle, and to -overcome the vain and restless curiosity of childhood. Try to become a -man between now and this evening, for this evening it may be necessary -to act." -</p> -<p> -"I will ask but one thing of you, uncle, and that is to provide for my -father's safety and my sister's before thinking of me." -</p> -<p> -"That is all done, my boy; at the first signal your father will seek -refuge in the mountains, and your sister with the lady who gave a ball -last night. Ah! the bell is ringing for service. I am going to ask the -superior's permission to go out with my nephew on some family business. -Wait for me at the door of our chapel." -</p> -<p> -"And suppose he should refuse you?" -</p> -<p> -"He would compel me to disobey him, which would grieve me deeply, I -confess, not because of the penance to-morrow, but because I do not like -to fail in my duty. The old soldier looks upon his orders as the supreme -law." -</p> -<p> -Five minutes later, Fra Angelo joined Michel again at the door of the -church. -</p> -<p> -"Granted," he said, "but I am commanded, in order to pay my debt to God, -to perform an act of faith and say a short prayer before the altar of -the Virgin. As I am excused from attending the evening services, the -least I can do is to ask pardon from my greatest superior. Come and pray -with me, young man; it can do you no harm, and will give you strength." -</p> -<p> -Michel followed his uncle to the foot of the altar. The setting sun made -the stained-glass windows glow as with fire, and strewed with sapphires -and rubies the flagged floor on which the Capuchin knelt. Michel knelt -beside him, and watched him as he prayed with simple fervor. A -flame-colored pane, whose reflection fell upon his shaven head, made it -appear luminous and, as it were, aflame. The young painter was seized -with respect and enthusiastic admiration as he looked upon that noble, -strong and ingenuous face, which humbled itself in all sincerity in -prayer; and he, too, moved to the depths of his heart, prayed for his -country, his family and himself, with a simple faith and candor which he -had not known since his childhood. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap23"></a>XXIII -<br><br> -THE DESTATORE -</h4> - -<p> -"May I venture to ask you where we are going, uncle?" queried Michel, -when they had taken a dark and narrow path which led among the old -olive-trees on the mountain. -</p> -<p> -"Certainly," replied Fra Angelo; "we are going to call upon the last -real brigand in Sicily." -</p> -<p> -"There are some left then?" -</p> -<p> -"A few, although sadly deteriorated. They are still ready to fight for -their country, and they keep alive the last spark of the sacred flame. -However, I ought to tell you that they are a sort of cross between the -gallant fellows of long ago, who scrupulously refrained from taking a -hair from the head of a good patriot, and the cutthroats of the present -day, who kill and rob everyone they meet. These men discriminate when -they can; but, as their business has become very bad, and as the police -are more to be feared than in my time, they cannot always choose; so -that I do not hold them up as beyond reproach; but, such as they are, -they still have certain virtues which we should seek in vain elsewhere: -fidelity to their oaths, remembrance of past services, the revolutionary -spirit, love of country; in a word, all that remains of the chivalrous -spirit of our old bands still casts a faint gleam in the hearts of a few -poor fellows, who live by themselves, a half-sedentary, half-wandering -life. That is to say, they are settled in villages or in the open -country; they have their families there, and in some cases are supposed -to be peaceable husbandmen, submissive to the law, and having no quarrel -with the <i>campiere</i>.<a id="FNanchor_2_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_1" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> If any of them are suspected, or, perhaps, -involved in some trouble, they are more wary, do not go to see their -wives or children except at night, or else remove their homes to some -almost inaccessible location. But the man whom we are going to see is -still free from any direct persecution. He lives openly in a neighboring -village, and can go where he pleases. You will not regret having made -his acquaintance, and I give you leave to study his character, for he is -a very interesting and remarkable person." -</p> -<p> -"Should I be too inquisitive if I asked you to tell me a little -something about him beforehand?" -</p> -<p> -"Certainly you ought to be told about him, and I will tell you. But it -is a momentous secret to place in your keeping, Michel, and it makes it -necessary for me to tell you another story. Do you know that I am going -to place in your hands the fate of a man whom the police are hunting -with all the energy and skill of which they are capable, and whose -features and true name they have never succeeded in finding out in the -six or seven years that have passed since he took up the <i>Destatore's</i> -work? Tell me, my boy, have you never heard of the <i>Piccinino</i> and his -band since you have been in Sicily?" -</p> -<p> -"It seems to me that I have. Yes, yes, uncle, my sister Mila has some -fantastic stories about this Piccinino, who is the principal subject of -conversation among the young silk-weavers of Catania. He is a -redoubtable brigand, they say, who kidnaps women and kills men at the -very gates of the city. I have never believed these fables." -</p> -<p> -"There is some truth at the bottom of all the popular legends," rejoined -the monk. "The Piccinino exists and plies his trade. There are two men in -him—the man whom the <i>campieri</i> pursue in vain, and the man whom -no one dreams of suspecting. The man who leads hazardous expeditions and -assembles, at a mysterious signal, all the <i>nottoloni</i><a id="FNanchor_3_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_1" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> of any -consequence, scattered all over the island, to employ them in more or -less worthy enterprises; and the man who lives not far from this place, -in a pretty country house, free from all molestation, and with the -reputation of an intelligent, peaceably disposed man, opposed to bloody -strife and advanced opinions. Well, within an hour you will be in that -man's presence, you will know his true name, you will know his features, -and you will share with only two other persons outside of the band which -he commands the responsibility of his secret. You see that I treat you -as a man, my child, but one cannot realize the danger of another person -until he has himself been exposed to it. Henceforth you will have to pay -with your life for the slightest indiscretion, and, in addition, to -commit something more than a dastardly act, a horrible crime, of which -you will soon know the extent." -</p> -<p> -"All these warnings are unnecessary, uncle; it is enough for me to know -that it would be an abuse of confidence." -</p> -<p> -"I believe it, and yet I am not so sure of your prudence that I do not -feel that I must tell you everything which may increase it. Your father, -Princess Agatha, perhaps your sister, and myself beyond any -question—all of us—will have sacrificed life and honor for -you, if you are false to the oath I require of you. Swear, therefore, -upon all that you hold most sacred—upon the Holy -Gospel—never to betray, even on the scaffold, the true name of the -Piccinino." -</p> -<p> -"I swear it, uncle. Are you satisfied?" -</p> -<p> -"Yes." -</p> -<p> -"And will the Piccinino have the same confidence in my oath that you -have?" -</p> -<p> -"Yes, although confidence is not a failing of his. But when I told him -of your visit, I gave him guarantees which could not fail to satisfy -him." -</p> -<p> -"Very good! Now tell me what the relations are to be between this man -and myself?" -</p> -<p> -"Patience, boy! I promised you another story, and here it is: -</p> -<p> -"The <i>Destatore</i> having become addicted to wine in his last -years——" -</p> -<p> -"So the <i>Destatore</i> is dead, is he, uncle? You did not tell me of his -death." -</p> -<p> -"I will tell you about it, although it is a very painful subject to me! -I told you of an abominable crime that he committed. He surprised and -carried off a girl,—a mere child,—who was walking with a -nurse in this neighborhood, and set her free again in two hours. But, -alas! two hours too late! No one witnessed his infamous act, but that -very evening he boasted of it to me and sneered at my indignation. I was -beside myself with horror and wrath, so that I cursed him, consigned him -to the furies, and abandoned him to enter this convent, where I soon -took the vows. I loved that man. I had been for many years under his -influence; and when I saw him ruining and degrading himself, I feared -that I might be led to follow his example. I determined to place between -him and myself an insurmountable barrier. I became a monk; that was one -of the most potent reasons for my decision. -</p> -<p> -"My desertion affected him more deeply than I expected. He came secretly -to Bel Passo and resorted to every expedient—prayers and -threats—to induce me to return. He was eloquent, because he had an -ardent and sincere heart, despite his vagaries. I was inexorable, -however, and I did my utmost to convert him. I am not eloquent; I was -even less so at that time; but I felt so intensely all that I said to -him—and faith had taken so strong a hold upon my heart—that -my arguments made a profound impression upon him. I induced him to -repair his crime as far as possible by marrying the innocent victim of -his violence. I went to her by night and obtained her consent to look -once more upon the detested brigand's features. They were married that -night, secretly but legally, in the chapel before the altar where you -prayed just now with me. And when he saw that beautiful, pale-cheeked, -terrified maiden, the Prince of Castro-Reale was seized with remorse, -and began to love her who was destined always to abhor him! He entreated -her to fly with him, and, irritated by her refusal, thought of abducting -her. But I had given that child my word, and she displayed a strength of -character and a pride far beyond her years. She told him that she would -never see him again; and clinging to my gown and our prior's—a -worthy man who carried all his secrets with him to the grave—she -cried: 'You swore that you would not leave me alone with that man a -minute, and would take me back to the door of my home as soon as the -marriage ceremony was finished. Do not desert me, or I will beat out my -brains on the steps of your church!' -</p> -<p> -"She would have done as she said, the noble-hearted girl! But I had -sworn! I took her home in safety, and she never saw the <i>Destatore</i> -again. -</p> -<p> -"As for him, his suffering was beyond words. Resistance inflamed his -passion, and, for the first time in his life, he who had seduced and -abandoned so many women learned what love is. But he also learned what -remorse is, and from that day his mind was diseased. I hoped that he -would be truly converted. I had no thought of making a monk of him like -myself, but I wanted him to take up his old work, to renounce useless -crimes, debauchery and folly. I tried to convince him that, if he should -become once more the avenger of his country and the soul of our hope of -deliverance, his young wife would forgive him and consent to share his -painful but glorious destiny. Doubtless I myself would have thrown my -frock to the dogs and followed him. -</p> -<p> -"But, alas! it would be too easy for men to mend their ways if crime and -vice would relax their grasp upon their victims as readily as we desire. -The <i>Destatore</i> was no longer himself; he had become too thoroughly -the man of the past. The remorse that I aroused in him disturbed his -reason without appeasing his savage instincts. Sometimes a raving -madman, sometimes timid and superstitious, he would pray one day in our -humble chapel, bathed in tears; and the next day would return to his -vomit—as the Scripture says. He tried to kill all his companions; -he tried to kill me. He committed many more excesses, and one -morning—it is hard for me to carry my story through to the end, -Michel, it gives me so much pain!—one morning he was found dead at -the foot of a cross, not far from our convent. He had blown out his -brains with a pistol!" -</p> -<p> -"That was a horrible fate," said Michel, "and I do not know whether it -is the tone of your voice, uncle, or the ghastly memories of the place -where we are, but my emotions at this moment are most painful. It may be -that I heard my father tell the story in my childhood, and that the -memory of the terror it caused me then is revived by your words." -</p> -<p> -"I do not believe that your father ever mentioned it to you," said the -Capuchin, after an interval of dismal silence. "I only speak of it -because I must, my child; for the remembrance is more painful to me than -to anybody on earth, and the place where we now are is by no means -calculated to arouse cheerful thoughts in my mind. See, yonder is the -cross whose base was drenched with his blood, and there I found him -lying, sadly disfigured. It was I who dug his grave with my own hands -under yonder rock in the bottom of the ravine. It was I who said the -prayers which anybody else would have refused to say for him. -</p> -<p> -"Poor Castro-Reale, poor captain, poor fellow!" continued the Capuchin, -baring his head and extending his arm in the direction of a great black -rock which lay on the brink of the stream about fifty feet below the -road. "May God, who is inexhaustible mercy and infinite kindness, -forgive the errors of your life, as I forgive the sorrow you caused me! -I no longer remember aught save your years of valor; your noble deeds, -your lofty sentiments, and the ardent aspirations which we shared. God -will not be more severe than a poor fellow like me, will he, Michel?" -</p> -<p> -"I do not believe in the everlasting resentment of the supreme and -perfect Being who governs the world," replied the young man. "But let us -go on, uncle; I am cold here, and I prefer to confess the strange -weakness that I feel rather than remain an instant longer at the foot of -this cross. I am afraid!" -</p> -<p> -"I had rather see you tremble than laugh in this spot!" replied the -monk. "Come, give me your hand, and let us go on." -</p> -<p> -They walked for some time in silence; then Fra Angelo, as if he wished -to divert Michel's thoughts, continued thus: "After the death of the -<i>Destatore</i>, many people, women especially,—for he had -seduced more than one—hurried to his hiding-place, hoping to -obtain possession of what money he might have left there for the -children whose father he was, or was supposed to be; but on the very -morning of his suicide he had taken the booty remaining from his last -expeditions and carried it to that one of his mistresses whom he loved -best, or, to speak more accurately, whom he hated least; for, although -he had many flames, he inspired even more, and all those women, forming -a sort of ambulatory harem, annoyed and irritated him beyond measure. -They all wanted him to marry them, for they did not know that he was -married. Melina, of Nicolosi, alone never burdened him with her -reproaches or her demands. She had loved him sincerely; she had -abandoned herself to him without resistance and without ulterior -motives; she had given him a son whom he preferred to the twelve or -fifteen bastards who were reared under his name among the mountains. -Most of those bastards are still living, and boast, rightly or wrongly, -that they belong to him. All are brigands to a greater or less extent. -But the one whom the <i>Destatore</i> never denied, who resembles him in -every feature, although his is a much reduced and blurred impression of -the father's masculine and energetic beauty; the one who has grown to -manhood with the design of succeeding to his work, with protection and -resources to which the others can lay no claim, that one is the son of -Melina, the young man whom we shall see very soon; he is the leader of -the brigands to whom I have referred, some of whom are, as a matter of -fact, his brothers; finally, he is the man whom you are to know under -his true name, Carmelo Tomabene, who is also known as <i>The -Piccinino</i>." -</p> -<p> -"And the girl whom Castro-Reale abducted, whom you married to -him—will you not tell me her name, uncle?" -</p> -<p> -"Her name and her story are a secret which only three persons know -to-day, she, myself, and one other. Stop there, Michel; no more -questions on that subject. Let us return to the Piccinino, son of the -Prince of Castro-Reale and of the peasant girl of Nicolosi. -</p> -<p> -"This intrigue of the <i>Destatore</i> was several years prior to his crime -and his marriage. The treasure he left was not very considerable; but, -as everything is relative, it was a fortune to Melina. She brought up -her son as if she intended that he should rise above his position; in -the bottom of her heart she longed to make a priest of him, and for -several years I was his tutor and his guide. But he was barely fifteen -years old when, having lost his mother, he left our convent and led a -wandering life until he attained his majority. He had always cherished -the idea of hunting up his father's former companions, and organizing a -new band with their aid; but, from respect for his mother's wishes, for -I ought to say that he really loved her, he had worked to acquire an -education as if he had, in fact, intended to devote himself to the -priestly profession. When he had recovered his liberty, he made use of -it without informing me of his purpose. He had always supposed that I -would blame him. Later, he was compelled to entrust his secret to me and -seek my advice. -</p> -<p> -"I was not sorry, I confess, to be rid of the guardianship of that young -wolf, for he was the most untamable creature that I ever met. As -fearless as his father, and even more intelligent, he is by instinct so -cautious and cunning, and elusive, that I was uncertain at times whether -I was dealing with the vilest of hypocrites or with the shrewdest -diplomatist who ever tangled up the affairs of empires. He is a strange -mixture of perfidy and honor, of magnanimity and vindictiveness. He has -a portion of his father's virtues and good qualities. His vices and -failings are of a different sort. Like his father, he is loyal in -friendship, and his oath is sacred; but while his father, even when -carried away by fierce passions, was always a true believer, and indeed -devout in the depths of his heart, the son, if I am not mistaken, and if -he has not changed, is the most placid and coolest atheist that ever -lived. If he has passions, he gratifies them so secretly that they -cannot be discovered. I know of but one, and that I have made no attempt -to overcome,—it is hatred of the foreigner and love of country. That -love is so intense that he carries it even to love of locality. Far from -being a spendthrift like his father, he is economical and orderly, and -owns a pretty little estate at Nicolosi, with a garden and some land, -where he lives almost always alone, to all appearance, when he is not on -some secret expedition in the mountains. But he arranges his absences -with so much caution, and receives his friends with so much mystery, -that no one ever knows whether he is away from the house, or in his -garden, smoking and reading. In order to preserve this skilfully managed -freedom of action, he makes a practice of not replying or showing -himself when anyone knocks at his door. So that, when he is ten leagues -away, no one can say that he is not kept within the walls of his -fortress by a fit of unsociability. -</p> -<p> -"He has retained the costume, and, so far as appears, the habits of a -wealthy peasant, and, although he is very well educated and very -eloquent on occasion, although he is fitted for any career, and capable -of distinguishing himself in many, he has such aversion for society and -the laws by which it is governed among us, that he prefers to remain a -bandit. To be simply a <i>villano</i><a id="FNanchor_4_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_1" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> in easy circumstances would not -satisfy him. He is energetic and ambitious, he has a genius for the -ruses of warfare, and a passion for adventures. Although it is a part of -his plan to conceal his shrewdness and his learning, those qualities -reveal themselves in spite of him, and he has great influence in his -village. He is looked upon there as an original character, but they -think highly of his advice, and consult him on every subject. He has -made it his duty to oblige everybody, because it is his policy to have -no enemies. He explains his frequent absences and the numerous visits he -receives as being connected with a small business in grain, which -requires journeys into the interior and somewhat extensive connections. -He carefully conceals his patriotism, but he investigates and knows all -about other people's, and at the first real uprising, he would have but -to wave his hand to raise the whole population of the mountain, and the -mountain would march with him." -</p> -<p> -"I can understand that this man is a hero in your eyes, uncle, while you -have difficulty in esteeming one whose qualities are so faintly outlined -as mine." -</p> -<p> -"I esteem the quality of words, not their number," replied the Capuchin. -"You have said two or three words which satisfy me, and as for my hero, -as you call him, he is so far from being lavish with them that I have -had to judge him by deeds rather than by speech. I, myself, rarely speak -of matters upon which I feel very strongly, and if you find me prolix -to-day, it is because I am obliged to tell you in two hours what I have -had no chance to tell you in the eighteen years that you have been in -this world, a stranger to me. However, reserve is not a defect in my -eyes. I loved Castro-Reale as I shall never love anybody else; and we -passed whole days together, by ourselves, without speaking a word. He -was suspicious, as every true Sicilian should be, and so long as he -distrusted himself and others, he had a noble heart and a noble spirit." -</p> -<p> -"The young man we are going to see must be very deeply attached to you, -uncle, since you are sure of finding him prepared to receive me?" -</p> -<p> -"If he loves anyone on earth, I am that one, although I scolded and -worried him well when he was my pupil. However, I am not perfectly -certain that he will grant what I have to ask him in your behalf. He -will have to overcome some repugnance; but I hope for the best." -</p> -<p> -"Doubtless he knows all that you will not allow me to know myself of my -affairs and my destiny?" -</p> -<p> -"He? he knows nothing whatsoever of them, and he shall know nothing -before you do. The little that you are both to know for the present, I -will tell you both. After that, it may be that the Piccinino will guess -more than he should. His penetration is very keen; but whatever he may -guess, he will never tell you; and he will never ask you what he wants -to find out; my mind is at rest so far as that is concerned. Now, -silence; we are coming out of the woods into a cultivated and settled -part of the mountain. We must be seen by as few people as possible on -our way to the place where our man awaits us." -</p> -<p> -They walked silently and cautiously along hedges and clumps of trees, -keeping in the shadow and avoiding trodden paths; and in the gathering -dusk they soon reached the Piccinino's abode. -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="nind"><a id="Footnote_2_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_1"><span class="label">[2]</span></a>The gendarmes or police of the island.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="nind"><a id="Footnote_3_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_1"><span class="label">[3]</span></a>People who attend to their business by night.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="nind"><a id="Footnote_4_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_1"><span class="label">[4]</span></a>That is to say, a <i>villain</i> or serf.</p></div> - - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap24"></a>XXIV -<br><br> -IL PICCININO -</h4> - -<p> -On that side of the mountain which Fra Angelo and Michel had been -constantly ascending for two hours, the large, thickly populated village -of Nicolosi is the last civilized point at which the traveller who -wishes to visit the top of Ætna stops for breath before entering the -grand and imposing region of forests. This second belt is called -<i>Silvosa</i> or <i>Nemorosa</i>, and the cold is intense there. The -vegetation then becomes depressingly wild and more sparse, until it finally -disappears altogether under lichens and heaps of gravel, beyond which -all is snow, sulphur, and smoke. -</p> -<p> -Nicolosi and the magnificent landscape surrounding it were already -enveloped in the evening mist when Michel tried to form some idea of the -place where he was. The imposing mass of Ætna was of the same uniform -shade, and he could barely distinguish, a mile above him, the frowning -peak of <i>Monte-Rosso</i>, that subaltern volcano, one of the twenty or -thirty sons of Ætna, extinct or recently opened furnaces, which rear -their heads like a battery of artillery at its foot. It was Monte-Rosso -that opened its black maw, less than two centuries ago, to vomit forth -that death-dealing lava with which the bottom of the bay of Catania is -still furrowed. To-day the peasants raise grapes and olives on débris -which seems to be burning still. -</p> -<p> -The Piccinino's house stood by itself on the mountain, about half a mile -from the village, from which it was separated by a steep ravine; it was -on the uppermost edge of a fertile tract, where the atmosphere was soft -and balmy. A few hundred feet higher it began to be cold, and the -terrors of the desert were foreshadowed by the absence of tilled land, -and by ridges of lava so numerous and so broad that the mountain seemed -inaccessible in that direction. Michel observed that the situation was -particularly favorable to the purposes of a man who was half citizen, -half outlaw. At home, he could enjoy all the comforts of life; on -leaving his home, he at once escaped from the presence of his fellow-men -and the requirements of the law. -</p> -<p> -The hill, the slope of which was very abrupt on one side, but gentle and -fertile on the other, was covered to its very summit with luxuriant -vegetation, whose mysterious exuberance was sedulously fostered by an -industrious and intelligent hand. Carmelo Tomabene's garden was renowned -for its beauty and the great abundance of its fruits and flowers. But -its entrance was jealously guarded, and it was enclosed on all sides by -high verdure-covered palisades. The house, which was of considerable -size and well built, although without apparent striving for effect, -stood upon the site of a small abandoned fort. Some fragments of thick -walls, and the base of a square tower, which had been utilized to -strengthen and enlarge the new building, which bore the marks of -extensive repairs, gave to the modest structure an air of solidity, and -of semi-rustic, semi-seignoral importance. However, it was simply the -dwelling of a well-to-do farmer, although one felt that a man of refined -habits and tastes might find life enjoyable therein. -</p> -<p> -Fra Angelo approached the gate, and pulled a bell-cord, which, starting -among the honeysuckles in which the gate was embowered, followed a long -vine-clad arbor and was connected with a bell inside the house; but the -sound of the bell was so deadened that it could not be heard outside. -The cord was not visible amid the foliage, and one needed to be -previously cognizant of its existence to make use of it. The monk pulled -the cord three times, at carefully measured intervals; then five times, -then twice, then three times again; after which he folded his arms for -five minutes, when he repeated the signals in the same order and with -the same care. One ring more or less and the mysterious proprietor might -have allowed them to wait all night without admitting them. -</p> -<p> -At last the garden gate was opened. A small man, wrapped in a cloak, -approached, took Fra Angelo by the hand, whispered to him for some -moments, then turned to Michel, bade him enter, and walked before them, -after closing the gate. They walked through the long arbor which formed -a cross extending the whole length and width of the garden, and entered -the house through a sort of rustic porch formed of large pillars covered -with vine and jasmine. Their host then ushered them into a large room, -neatly and simply furnished, where everything indicated regularity and -sobriety on the part of the owner. There he invited them to sit, and, -stretching himself out on an enormous couch covered with red silk, -coolly lighted his cigar; then, without any demonstration of -friendliness toward the monk, he waited for him to speak. He showed no -impatience, no curiosity. He gave his whole attention to removing his -brown cloak lined with pink, carefully folding it, and rearranging his -silk sash, as if he desired to be perfectly comfortable while listening -to what they had to say to him. -</p> -<p> -But what was Michel's surprise when he finally recognized in the young -<i>villano</i> of Nicolosi the stranger who had caused a momentary -sensation at the princess's ball, and with whom he had exchanged a few -far from friendly words on the stoop of the palace! -</p> -<p> -He was disturbed by the thought that that incident was unlikely to -dispose in his favor the man at whose hands he was about to ask a -service. But the Piccinino did not seem to recognize him, and Michel -concluded that it would be as well not to remind him of that unpleasant -incident. -</p> -<p> -He had plenty of leisure to examine his features and to seek therein -some indication of his character. But it was impossible for him to -detect any trace of emotion, of determination, of any human feeling, on -that impassive and expressionless face. It was not even impertinent, -although his attitude and his silence might seem to denote a purpose to -display contempt. -</p> -<p> -The Piccinino was a young man of about twenty-five years. His short -stature and slender figure justified the sobriquet which had been given -him, and to which he submitted with more coquetry than vexation.<a id="FNanchor_5_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_1" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> It -is impossible to imagine a more slender and delicate, and, at the same -time, more perfect figure, than that young man's. Admirably -proportioned, and modelled like an antique bronze, he made up for his -lack of muscular strength by extreme suppleness. He was reputed to be -without a compeer in all bodily exercises, although he was dependent -solely upon his address, his coolness, his agility, and the unerring -accuracy of his glance. No one could tire him at walking, or overtake -him at running. He climbed precipices with the self-possession of a -chamois; he was as good a shot with the rifle as with the pistol or the -sling; and in all sports of that sort he was so sure of winning all the -prizes that he had ceased to take the trouble to compete. He was an -excellent horseman and a fearless swimmer; in fact, there was no method -of locomotion or of fighting in which he was not certain to display a -marked superiority to anyone who ventured to try conclusions with him. -Being fully alive to the advantages of physical strength in a -mountainous country, and with the life of an adventurer before him, he -had striven in early years to acquire what nature seemed to have denied -him in that regard. He had exercised and developed his muscles with -incredible energy and persistence, and had succeeded in making his -fragile frame the trusty slave and obedient instrument of his will. -</p> -<p> -And yet, seeing him reclining thus upon his couch, one might have taken -him for a sickly or indolent woman. Michel did not know that, after -travelling twenty leagues on foot during the day, he systematically -rested for a certain number of hours, and that he had watched and -studied himself so closely in every respect that he knew exactly how -many moments he must pass in a horizontal position in order to escape -the annoyance of a lame back and legs. -</p> -<p> -His face was of a peculiar type of beauty: it was the Siculo-Arabian<a id="FNanchor_6_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_1" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> -type in all its purity. Extraordinary sharpness of outline, a somewhat -exaggerated oriental profile, long, languishing, velvety black eyes, a -shrewd and lazy smile, a wholly feminine grace, and an indefinable -gentleness and coldness which it was impossible to explain at the first -glance. -</p> -<p> -The Piccinino was dressed with extreme care and scrupulous neatness. He -wore the picturesque costume of the peasants of the mountain, but it was -made of fine, light materials. His breeches, short and tight-fitting, -were of a soft woollen fabric, with silk stripes, yellow and brown. His -bare leg, white as alabaster, was visible above his scarlet -<i>spadrilles</i>. His shirt was of embroidered linen, trimmed with lace, -and afforded a glimpse of a heavy gold chain, intertwined with hair, upon -his breast. His sash was of green silk stitched with silver. He was -arrayed from head to foot in smuggled garments, or something worse; for -if you had examined the marks on his linen, you might have convinced -yourself that it came from the last valise he had robbed. -</p> -<p> -While Michel was contemplating with admiration, mingled with some inward -irony, the ease with which that well-favored youth rolled a cigarette of -Algerian tobacco in his fingers, slender and tapering as a Bedouin's, -Fra Angelo, who seemed neither surprised nor annoyed by his reception, -made a circuit of the room, bolted the door, and, having inquired if -they were quite alone in the house, to which query the Piccinino replied -in the affirmative with a nod, he began thus: -</p> -<p> -"I thank you, my son, for not compelling me to wait for this -appointment. I have come to ask a favor at your hands: are you able and -willing to devote a few days to it?" -</p> -<p> -"A few days?" repeated the Piccinino, in such a soft voice that Michel -was fain to glance anew at the muscles of steel in his legs in order to -be sure that it was not a woman who spoke; but the tone of the voice -signified too clearly to be misunderstood: "You are jesting!" -</p> -<p> -"I said a few days," rejoined the monk, calmly. "You will have to go -down the mountain, follow this young man, my nephew, to Catania, and -stay by him until you have succeeded in relieving him from an enemy who -is tormenting him." -</p> -<p> -The Piccinino turned slowly toward Michel, and stared at him as if he -had not previously seen him; then, taking from his belt a richly-mounted -stiletto, he presented it to him with an almost imperceptible smile of -irony and contempt, as if to say: "You are old enough and strong enough -to defend yourself." -</p> -<p> -Michel, annoyed at being placed in such a position, was about to make a -sharp retort, when Fra Angelo cut him short, placing his iron hand on -his shoulder. -</p> -<p> -"Be quiet, my boy," he said; "you do not know what I am talking about, -and there is no occasion for you to speak. My friend," he continued, -addressing the bandit, "if my nephew were not a man and a Sicilian, I -should not introduce him to you. I am going to tell you what we expect -of you, unless you tell me beforehand that you cannot or will not help -us." -</p> -<p> -"Padre Angelo," replied the bandit, taking the monk's hand, and putting -it to his lips with a caressing gesture and an affectionate glance that -changed the character of his face entirely, "whatever you may ask, I am -always willing to do for you. But no man can do all that he is willing -to do. So I must know what it is." -</p> -<p> -"A man annoys us." -</p> -<p> -"I understand." -</p> -<p> -"We do not wish to kill him." -</p> -<p> -"You are unwise." -</p> -<p> -"By killing him we ruin ourselves; by putting him out of the way we are -saved." -</p> -<p> -"He is to be kidnapped then?" -</p> -<p> -"Yes, but we do not know how to go about it." -</p> -<p> -"What! <i>you</i> do not know, Padre Angelo?" said the Piccinino with a -smile. -</p> -<p> -"I should have known in the old days," replied the Capuchin. "I had -friends and places of shelter. Now, I am a monk." -</p> -<p> -"You are foolish," rejoined the bandit with undisturbed tranquillity. -"So, I am to kidnap a man, am I? Is he very stout, very heavy?" -</p> -<p> -"He is very light," replied the monk, who apparently understood that -metaphor, "and no one will give you a ducat for his skin." -</p> -<p> -"In that case, good-evening, father; I can't take him alone and put him -in my pocket like a handkerchief. I must have men, and they are not to -be had for nothing, as in your day." -</p> -<p> -"You don't understand me; you may fix the compensation of your men -yourself, and they shall be paid." -</p> -<p> -"Do you make yourself responsible for that, father?" -</p> -<p> -"I do." -</p> -<p> -"You alone?" -</p> -<p> -"I alone. And, so far as you are concerned, if the affair had not been a -magnificent one, I should not have selected you." -</p> -<p> -"Well, we will see about it next week," rejoined the bandit, in order to -obtain more ample information as to the profits of the affair. -</p> -<p> -"In that case, we will say nothing more about it," said the monk, hurt -by his distrust; "we must go forward at once or not at all." -</p> -<p> -"At once? What about a chance to collect my men, persuade them, and give -them their instructions?" -</p> -<p> -"You can do it to-morrow morning, and to-morrow night they can be at -their posts." -</p> -<p> -"I see that you are in no great hurry, or you would have told me to -start to-night. If you can wait until to-morrow, you can wait a -fortnight." -</p> -<p> -"No; for I intend to take you away with me now, send you to a certain -villa where you will talk with one of the persons interested in the -success of the affair, and give you until to-morrow night to inspect the -locality, become acquainted with all necessary details, set up your -batteries, notify your men, station them, arrange for allies in the -citadel. Bah! it is more time than you need! At your age I wouldn't have -asked your father for half of it." -</p> -<p> -Michel saw that the Capuchin had touched the right chord at last; for -when he was appealed to as the son of the Prince of Castro-Reale, a -title which nobody dared or chose to give him openly, the Piccinino -started, sat up and sprang to his feet as if he were ready to start at -once. But suddenly he put his hand to his leg and fell back on the -couch. -</p> -<p> -"It is impossible," he said, "I am in too much pain." -</p> -<p> -"What is the matter?" asked Fra Angelo. "Are you wounded? Is that spent -ball of last year still troubling you? In the old days we used to march -with bullets in our bodies. Your father did thirty leagues without -thinking of having the one extracted that he received in the thigh at -Leon-Forte; but the young men of to-day need a year to be cured of a -bruise." -</p> -<p> -Michel thought that his uncle had gone a little too far, for the -Piccinino resumed his recumbent attitude with a gesture of profound -indignation, stretched himself on his back, puffed away at his -cigarette, and maliciously left to the good priest the embarrassing -necessity of continuing the conversation. -</p> -<p> -But Fra Angelo was perfectly sure that the idea of a supply of ducats -had appealed to the young bandit's unsentimental mind, and he continued -without the slightest hesitation: -</p> -<p> -"I give you half an hour, my son, if you absolutely need it; half an -hour is a long while for the blood that flows in your veins! then we -will all three start." -</p> -<p> -"Who is this youngster, pray?" said the Piccinino, indicating Michel -with the end of his finger, but without removing his eyes from the wall. -</p> -<p> -"He is my nephew, as I have told you; and Fra Angelo's nephew is to be -relied on. But he doesn't know the country, and has not the necessary -connections for an affair of this sort." -</p> -<p> -"Is the <i>signorino</i> afraid of compromising himself?" -</p> -<p> -"No, signor!" cried Michel, irritated beyond endurance, and unable to -bear longer the bandit's insolence and the restraint which his uncle -imposed upon him. The bandit turned, looked him in the face with his -long eyes, which seemed to turn up a little toward the temples, and -whose mocking expression was sometimes intolerable. But when he saw -Michel's animated face and pale lips, he assumed a more amiable -expression, albeit a little suspicious still, and said, offering him his -hand: -</p> -<p> -"Let us be friends, at all events, until we have no other enemies on our -hands; that is our wisest course." -</p> -<p> -As Michel was seated at some distance, he would have had to rise to take -that hand, extended with a kingly gesture. He smiled and did not move, -at the risk of displeasing his uncle and losing the fruit of their -expedition. -</p> -<p> -But the monk was not sorry to see Michel adopt that attitude with -respect to the bandit. The latter understood that he had no -weak-spirited creature to deal with, and, rising with an effort, he went -to him and took his hand. -</p> -<p> -"You are cruel, my young master," he said, "to refuse to take two steps -toward a man who is completely tired out. You haven't travelled twenty -leagues to-day, and you insist upon my starting off again when I have -had barely two hours' rest!" -</p> -<p> -"At your age," said the unrelenting monk, "I used to walk twenty leagues -a day, and not take time to sup before starting again. Well, have you -decided? Shall we start?" -</p> -<p> -"You care a good deal about it, don't you? Are you personally interested -in the affair?" -</p> -<p> -"I care about it as I do about my everlasting salvation, and the affair -is of the deepest interest to the persons who are dearer to me than -anybody else on earth since your father died. My brother is in danger, -as well as this excellent young man, for whom I demand your sincere and -loyal friendship." -</p> -<p> -"Have I not shaken his hand?" -</p> -<p> -"Therefore I count upon you. When I see that you are ready, I will tell -you something that will be a more enticing bait to you than gold or -glory." -</p> -<p> -"I am ready. Is it an enemy of the country who is to be killed?" -</p> -<p> -"I told you that there is nobody to be killed; you forget that I serve -the God of peace and mercy. But there is some one to be thwarted, some -one whose treacherous plans must be utterly foiled; and that man is a -spy and a traitor." -</p> -<p> -"His name?" -</p> -<p> -"Will you come?" -</p> -<p> -"Am I not on my feet?" -</p> -<p> -"Abbé Ninfo." -</p> -<p> -The Piccinino began to laugh, a silent laugh in which there was -something ghastly. -</p> -<p> -"May I be permitted to thwart him?" he asked. -</p> -<p> -"Morally, yes. But not a drop of blood must be shed!" -</p> -<p> -"Morally! good, I will exert my wits. Courage is not current coin with -that fellow; but as we have made our bargain, or nearly so, it is time -to explain to me the motive of this abduction." -</p> -<p> -"I will explain it to you, and you can reflect upon it as we walk." -</p> -<p> -"Impossible. I cannot do two things at once. I reflect only when my body -is at rest." -</p> -<p> -And he coolly lay down again after relighting his cigarette. -</p> -<p> -Fra Angelo saw clearly enough that he would not allow himself to be led -into action with his eyes closed. -</p> -<p> -"You know," he said, with no indication of impatience, "that Ninfo is -the tool, the spy, the inseparable companion of a certain cardinal?" -</p> -<p> -"Hieronymo de Palmarosa?" -</p> -<p> -"You know also that my older brother, Pier-Angelo, was forced to leave -Sicily eighteen years ago?" -</p> -<p> -"I know it. It was his own fault! My father was still alive. He might -have joined him instead of abandoning his country." -</p> -<p> -"You are mistaken; your father was dead. You were an infant, I was a -monk! There was nothing to be done here." -</p> -<p> -"Go on." -</p> -<p> -"My brother returned, as you know, a year ago; and his son, Michelangelo -here, returned a week ago." -</p> -<p> -"What for?" -</p> -<p> -"To assist his father in his trade and his country on occasion. But -there is already a denunciation hanging over him as well as over his -father. The cardinal still has his memory, and does not forgive. Ninfo -is prepared to act in his name." -</p> -<p> -"What are they waiting for?" -</p> -<p> -"I don't know why the cardinal is waiting so long before dying, but I -can say that Ninfo is waiting for the cardinal's death." -</p> -<p> -"Why?" -</p> -<p> -"In order to seize his papers before there is time to put seals on them -and notify his heiress." -</p> -<p> -"Who is the heiress?" -</p> -<p> -"Princess Agatha de Palmarosa." -</p> -<p> -"Ah! yes," said the bandit, changing his position, "a beautiful woman, -so they say." -</p> -<p> -"That has nothing to do with the affair. But do you understand now why -it is necessary that Abbé Ninfo should disappear during the cardinal's -last moments?" -</p> -<p> -"So that he cannot seize the papers, you said. He may cheat Princess -Agatha out of important documents, abstract a will. It is a serious -matter for her. She is very rich, is she not? Thanks to her father's and -uncle's <i>loyal opinions</i>, the government has left her all her -property, and does not crush her life out with forced contributions." -</p> -<p> -"She is very rich, so that it is a great opportunity for you, for she is -no less generous than rich." -</p> -<p> -"I understand. And then, she is a very beautiful woman!" -</p> -<p> -His insistence upon that consideration sent a shudder of anger through -Michel's veins; the bandit's impertinence seemed intolerable to him; but -Fra Angelo was not disturbed by it. He believed that it was simply a -trick of the Piccinino's, to conceal his rapacity beneath an air of -gallantry. -</p> -<p> -"So I am to act for your brother and nephew incidentally," continued the -bandit, "while in reality I am to rescue the Princess of Palmarosa's -future fortune by laying hands upon the suspicious person of Abbé -Ninfo? Is that it?" -</p> -<p> -"That is it," the monk replied. "The signora has to look out for her -interests, and I for my family. That is why I have advised her to seek -your assistance, and why I consented to convey her request." -</p> -<p> -The Piccinino seemed to reflect a moment; then, suddenly throwing -himself back on his cushions, he exclaimed, in a voice broken by peals -of hearty laughter: -</p> -<p> -"A most excellent story! This is one of the most attractive adventures -in which I have ever taken part!" -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="nind"><a id="Footnote_5_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_1"><span class="label">[5]</span></a>The Piccinino is a friendly diminutive which the -mountaineers might well have given him because of his small size. But -the phrase <i>piccin-piccino</i> signifies the act of hiding in order to -prove an <i>alibi</i>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="nind"><a id="Footnote_6_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_1"><span class="label">[6]</span></a>That is to say, modified Arabian, as found in Sicily.</p></div> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap25"></a>XXV -<br><br> -THE DESTATORE'S CROSS -</h4> - -<p> -This outburst of merriment, which seemed exceedingly insolent to Michel, -alarmed the monk at last; but, giving him no time to question him, the -Piccinino resumed his seriousness as abruptly as he had laid it aside. -</p> -<p> -"The affair becomes clearer," he said. "One point is still obscure; why -does Ninfo wait for the cardinal to die before denouncing your kinsmen?" -</p> -<p> -"Because he knows that the princess is their protector," the Capuchin -replied; "that she has affection and esteem for the honest old artisan -who has been working in her palace for a year past, and that, to save -them from persecution, she would allow herself to be bled by that -infamous priest. So he says to himself that when the cardinal is dead he -will have that noble lady's fate in his hands absolutely, and that he -will be at liberty to ruin her to his own profit. Doesn't it seem better -to you that the Princess Agatha, who is a good Sicilian, should inherit -the cardinal's property peaceably, and recompense handsomely the -services of a gallant fellow like yourself, than that she should spend -her money to buy the silence of a venomous reptile like Ninfo?" -</p> -<p> -"That is my opinion. But how can you be sure that the will has not been -already abstracted? -</p> -<p> -"We know on good authority that it cannot have been yet." -</p> -<p> -"I must be certain of it! for I don't choose to exert myself, and then -obtain nothing that is of any value." -</p> -<p> -"What does it matter if your pay is the same?" -</p> -<p> -"Ah! Brother Angelo," said the Piccinino, rising on his elbow and -assuming an air of pride which made his listless eyes gleam for an -instant, "for what do you take me? It seems to me that you have -forgotten me in some measure. Am I a <i>bravo</i>, to be paid by the job -or by the day? I have always flattered myself upon being a loyal friend, -a man of honor, a devoted partisan; and lo and behold! apparently -ashamed of the pupil you trained, you treat me like a mercenary, ready -to do anything for a little gold! Disabuse yourself of that idea, in -God's name. I do justice fortuitously, as my father did; and if I -sometimes work on different lines from those he followed—if, -conforming to the spirit of the age we live in, I use my shrewdness more -often than my courage—I am none the less high-spirited and -independent. Being more useful and more in request than a notary, lawyer -or doctor, if I put a high price on my services, or give them -<i>gratis</i>, according to the means of those who seek them, I have no -love for my art and no respect for my own intelligence. I shall never -waste my time and trouble in earning money without guarding the -interests of my clients; and, just as the famous advocate refuses to -undertake a cause which he is sure of losing, just as a captain refuses -to risk his men in an unnecessary action, just as an honest doctor -ceases his visits when it is no longer in his power to relieve his -patient, so do I, my father, refuse your offers, for they do not satisfy -my conscience." -</p> -<p> -"There was no need of your saying all that to me," said Fra Angelo, -still as calm as ever. "I know what sort of man you are, and I should -consider that I degraded myself by seeking the aid of a man whom I did -not esteem." -</p> -<p> -"In that case," replied the Piccinino, with increasing excitement, "why -do you lack confidence in me? Why do you tell me only a part of the -truth?" -</p> -<p> -"You want me to tell you where the cardinal's will is concealed? That I -do not know, nor have I ever thought of asking." -</p> -<p> -"That is impossible." -</p> -<p> -"I swear to you before God, boy, that I have no idea. I know that it is -out of Ninfo's reach for the present, and that he cannot obtain -possession of it while the cardinal lives except with his assent." -</p> -<p> -"And how do you know that he has not already given his assent?" -</p> -<p> -"The Princess Agatha is certain of it. She told me so, and that was -enough for me." -</p> -<p> -"But suppose it isn't enough for me? Suppose I have no confidence in -that woman's shrewdness and foresight? Don't you know that women have no -talent whatever for that sort of thing? Have they any other talent in -the way of divining or pretending than the talent they place at the -service of love?" -</p> -<p> -"You have become very learned on this subject, and I have continued to -be quite ignorant; however, my friend, if you desire to know further -details, ask the princess herself for them, and you will probably be -satisfied. I intended to put you in communication with her to-night." -</p> -<p> -"To-night? in direct communication? Shall I be able to talk with her -alone?" -</p> -<p> -"Surely, if you consider it necessary to the success of our -undertaking." -</p> -<p> -The Piccinino turned abruptly to Michel, and looked at him without -saying a word. -</p> -<p> -The young artist was unable to sustain that gaze without distress. The -adventurer's manner of speaking of Agatha had already irritated him -exceedingly, and to keep himself in countenance he was forced to take a -cigarette which the bandit suddenly offered him with an ironical and -quasi-patronizing air. -</p> -<p> -The Piccinino had risen, and seemed to have fully made up his mind to -go. He began to unbuckle his sash, shaking and stretching his legs like -a hunting-dog preparing for the chase. -</p> -<p> -He passed into another room, and soon returned, dressed with more care -and more simply. He had covered his bare legs with long gaiters of white -wool like those worn by the Italian mountaineers. But all the buttons, -from ankle to knee, were of fine gold. He had put on the twofold -doublet, the outer one of green velvet embroidered with gold; the inner -one shorter, and less full, and of fashionable cut, was of lilac watered -silk, embroidered with silver. A white leather belt encircled his supple -waist; but, instead of the copper buckle, he wore a superb clasp of -antique coraline, richly mounted. No weapons were visible, but there -could be no question that he was provided with most adequate means of -defence. Finally, he had exchanged his showy cloak for the classic cloak -of black woollen cloth, lined with white, and covered his head with the -pointed hood that gives the aspect of monks or ghosts to all the -mysterious figures that one meets on mountain paths. -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> -<a id="figure04"></a> -<br> -<img src="images/figure04.jpg" width="300" alt="300"> -<div class="caption"> -<p><i>THE CONFERENCE WITH THE -PICCININO.</i></p> -<p class="smaller"> -<i>"Come" he said, looking himself over in a large -mirror that hung against the wall; "I can appear -before a woman now without frightening her. What -do you think about it, Michelangelo Lavoratori?</i>"</p> -</div></div> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -"Come," he said, looking himself over in a large mirror that hung -against the wall; "I can appear before a woman now without frightening -her. What do you think about it, Michelangelo Lavoratori?" -</p> -<p> -And, heedless of the impression that that conceited tone might produce -on the young artist, he set about closing his house with the utmost -care. After which, he gayly passed his arm through Michel's, and started -off so swiftly that the others had difficulty in keeping pace with him. -</p> -<p> -When they had passed Nicolosi, Fra Angelo, stopping at a place where two -paths converged, took leave of his young friends, to return to his -monastery, advising them not to lose time escorting him thither. -</p> -<p> -"The leave granted me expires in half an hour," he said. "It may be that -I shall have many other favors to ask within a short time, and I must -not abuse this one. Yonder is the direct road to the Villa Palmarosa -without passing Bel Passo. You do not need me to be introduced to the -princess's presence. She has been notified and she expects you. Here is -a key to the park, Michel, and one to the little garden outside the -Casino. You know the staircase cut in the rock. You must ring twice, -thrice and once at the small gilt gate at the top. Until then avoid -being seen, and make sure that nobody is following you. When the maid -comes to open the gate leading into the private garden, your countersign -will be <i>Blessed Madonna of Bel Passo</i>. Do not lose these keys, -Michel. Within a few days all the locks have been changed secretly, and -the new ones are so complicated, that unless he applies to the locksmith -who furnished them, and who is incorruptible, it will be impossible -henceforth for Ninfo to get into the villa by means of false keys. One -word more, my children. If any unforeseen occurrence should make my -presence urgently necessary during the night, the Piccinino knows my -cell and how to get into the convent." -</p> -<p> -"I should say as much!" said the bandit, when they had left the -Capuchin; "I have indulged in enough escapades at night and returned -just before dawn often enough, to know how to climb the walls of the -convent of Mal Passo. Well, my friend, we no longer have to be careful -of good Brother Angelo's legs; we will run a bit on this slope, and you -will be kind enough not to lag behind, for I am not inclined to follow -beaten paths. It is not my custom, and the way the crow flies is much -safer and more expeditious." -</p> -<p> -As he spoke he darted in among the rocks which descended abruptly to the -bed of the stream, as if he proposed to jump over. It was a very bright -night, as almost all nights are in that beautiful climate. But the moon, -which was just rising and casting huge shadows across the ravines, made -everything uncertain and deceptive to the eye. If Michel had not kept -close to his guide, he would have been completely at a loss what course -to take among masses of lava and steep cliffs which it seemed impossible -to climb. Although the Piccinino was perfectly familiar with the -practicable spots, there were some so dangerous and difficult that -Michel would have refused to take the risk, except for the fear of being -considered cowardly and awkward. But the rivalry of self-love is a spur -which increases a man's faculties tenfold, and, at the risk of killing -himself twenty times over, the young artist followed the bandit without -stumbling and without uttering a word which betrayed his discomfort and -his distrust. -</p> -<p> -We say distrust, because he soon felt sure that all this trouble and -contempt of danger did not shorten their road. It might be a malicious -device on the part of the adventurer to test his strength, his agility, -and his courage, or an attempt to elude him. He was almost convinced of -it, when, after half an hour of this wild chase, and after thrice -crossing the same winding stream, they found themselves in the bottom of -a ravine which Michel thought that he recognized as one that he and the -Capuchin had skirted on the higher land on their way to Nicolosi. He did -not choose to make that suggestion; but he involuntarily paused a moment -to look at the stone cross at the foot of which the <i>Destatore</i> had -blown out his brains, and which stood out against the sky on the edge of -the ravine. Then, looking about, he recognized the block of black lava -which Fra Angelo had pointed out to him from a distance, and which -served as a monument to the bandit chief. It was only a few steps away, -and the Piccinino had walked thither and was standing beside the rock, -with folded arms, in the attitude of a man stopping to take breath. -</p> -<p> -What could have been the Piccinino's idea in making that dangerous and -useless détour in order to pass his father's grave? Could he be -ignorant of the fact that he was buried there? or was he less reluctant -to walk over his remains than to pass the cross which had witnessed his -suicide? Michel dared not question him upon so painful and delicate a -subject; he too, stopped, said nothing, and wondered why he had felt such -a painful thrill when Fra Angelo had told him of the <i>Destatore's</i> -tragic end. He knew himself well enough to be sure that he was neither -cowardly nor superstitious, and at that moment he felt perfectly calm -and superior to all vain terrors. He had no other sensation than a sort -of disgust and indignation at the appearance of the young bandit, who -was leaning against the fatal rock and tranquilly striking his flint to -light a fresh cigarette. -</p> -<p> -"Do you know what this stone is?" demanded the extraordinary young man, -abruptly; "and do you know what happened at the foot of yonder cross -that cuts the moon in two from where we stand?" -</p> -<p> -"I do know," replied Michel, coldly; "but I hoped for your sake that you -did not know." -</p> -<p> -"Ah! you are like Padre Angelo, are you?" rejoined the bandit, -carelessly; "you are surprised that, when I pass this spot I don't drop -on my knees and recite an <i>oremus</i> for my father's soul? In order to -go through with that classic ceremony three beliefs are requisite, none of -which I have: first, that there is a God; second, that man has an -immortal soul; third, that my prayers can serve the slightest purpose in -case my father's soul is undergoing merited punishment. You consider me -impious, I presume? I will bet that you are as much so as I am, and that -if it weren't for the respect of other men and a sort of hypocritical -sense of propriety to which everybody, even the man of intellect, feels -bound to submit, you would say that I am perfectly right!" -</p> -<p> -"I shall never submit to any hypocritical sense of propriety," replied -Michel. "I believe firmly and sincerely in the three things in which you -boast that you do not believe." -</p> -<p> -"Ah! then you are horrified by my atheism?" -</p> -<p> -"No, for I choose to believe that it is involuntary, and I have no right -to be scandalized by an error, when my own mind certainly is not open to -the absolute truth in many other respects. I am not a devotee, that I -should blame and condemn those who don't think as I do. But I will tell -you frankly that there is one sort of atheism which appals and disgusts -me: that is atheism of the heart, and I am very much afraid that yours -does not flow from the inclination of your mind alone." -</p> -<p> -"Good! good! go on!" said the Piccinino, surrounding himself with clouds -of tobacco smoke, with a careless vivacity, perhaps a little forced. -"You think that I have a heart of stone, because I do not shed torrents -of tears to my father's memory over this rock, which I am forced to pass -every day, and on which I have sat a hundred times?" -</p> -<p> -"I know that you lost him when you were so young that you could not -regret his companionship. I know that you must be accustomed, almost -indifferent, to the gloomy memories connected with this spot. I say -everything to myself to excuse your lack of feeling, but it does not -justify in my eyes the species of bravado with which you place before -me, designedly, I believe, the strange spectacle. I never knew your -father, and had no tie of kinship with him, and yet the fact that my -uncle loved him dearly and that a portion of his life was made -illustrious by patriotic and valorous deeds is enough to inspire me with -profound respect beside his grave, and to make me feel distressed and -offended by your attitude at this moment." -</p> -<p> -"Master Michel," said the Piccinino, abruptly throwing away his -cigarette and turning upon him with a threatening gesture, "it seems to -me that you are a very strange young man to dare to rebuke me in this -way, considering our position with respect to each other. You forget, I -fancy, that I know your secrets, that I am at liberty to be your friend -or your enemy; in short, that, at this moment, in this solitude, in this -infernal spot where I may not be so entirely cold-blooded as you think, -your life is in my hands!" -</p> -<p> -"The only thing that I have any reason to fear," rejoined Michel, -calmly, "is that I may play the pedagogue inopportunely. That part is -not suited to my years or my tastes. I will remind you, therefore, that -if you had not incited my comments by a sort of persistence in -questioning me, I should have spared you the infliction. As for your -threats, I will not say that I consider myself able to defend myself as -powerfully and calmly as you would be likely to attack me. I know that, -at a whistle from you, an armed man would start up from behind every -rock in the neighborhood. I trusted to your word, and I did not arm -myself to walk with a man who offered me his hand, saying: 'Let us be -friends.' But if my uncle is mistaken with respect to your loyalty, and -if you have led me into a trap, or—as I should prefer to believe for -your own sake—if the effect of this spot is to disturb your mind and -make you irresponsible, I will none the less tell you what I think, and -I will not stoop to flatter the shortcomings upon which you seem to -plume yourself for my benefit." -</p> -<p> -As he concluded, Michel opened his cloak to show the bandit that he had -not even a knife upon his person, then sat down, facing him, and looking -him in the eye with the utmost coolness. It was the first time he had -ever been in such a position, for which he had certainly had no time to -prepare himself, and from which he was not at all sure of extricating -himself unharmed; for as the moon, emerging from behind the <i>Destatore's -Cross</i>, fell full upon the young bandit's face, Michel was no longer in -doubt as to the ferocity and treachery of his expression. Nevertheless -Pier-Angelo's son, the nephew of the intrepid Capuchin of Bel Passo, -felt that his heart was untouched by fear, and that the first serious -danger which threatened his young life found him proud and undaunted. -</p> -<p> -The Piccinino, seeing how near he was, and that his own face was so -illuminated by the moon, tried for a moment the terrifying effect of his -tiger-like eyes; but having failed to make Michel lower his, and -detecting no sign of poltroonery in his face or attitude, he suddenly -sat down beside him and took his hand. -</p> -<p> -"Upon my word," he said, "although I do my utmost to despise you and -hate you, I cannot succeed; I fancy that you have sufficient penetration -to guess that I would rather kill you than save you, as I have -undertaken to do. You are an embarrassment to me in respect to certain -illusions which you can readily imagine: you balk me in certain hopes -which I cherished, and which I am by no means inclined to renounce. But -I am not bound by my word simply, but by a certain sympathetic feeling -for you which I cannot shake off. I should lie if I said that I love -you, and that it is a pleasant occupation to me to defend your life. But -I esteem you, and that is a good deal. I assure you, you did well to -answer me as you did; for now I can confess to you that this place -sometimes brings on fits of madness; and I have formed terrible -resolutions here on many a momentous occasion. You were not safe with me -a moment ago; and I should not care to hear you utter a certain name -again. Let us not stay here any longer, and do you take this stiletto, -which I offered you once before. A Sicilian ought always to be ready to -use it, and to my mind it is utterly insane to go about unarmed in the -position you are in." -</p> -<p> -"Let us go," said Michel, mechanically taking the proffered dagger. "My -uncle says that time is important, and that they are waiting for us." -</p> -<p> -"Waiting for <i>us</i>?" cried the bandit, leaping to his feet. "Waiting -for you, you mean! Damnation! I wish that yonder cross and this stone -might both sink into the ground! Young man, you may believe that I am an -atheist, and that my heart is hard; but if you think it is of -ice——Here, put your hand to it, and learn that desire and -will have their seat there as well as in the brain!" -</p> -<p> -He seized Michel's hand roughly, and held it to his breast. It was -heaving with palpitations of such violence that one would have said that -it was on the point of bursting. -</p> -<p> -But when they had quitted the ravine, and had left the <i>Destatore's -Cross</i> behind them, the Piccinino began to hum, in a voice as sweet and -pure as the breath of the night, a ballad in the Sicilian dialect, of -which the refrain was: -</p> -<p> -"Wine makes madness, love makes folly; my nectar is the blood of -cowards, my mistress is my rifle." -</p> -<p> -After this outburst of bravado, addressed to himself as well as to the -ears of any Neapolitan police who might happen to be within hearing, the -Piccinino began to talk with Michel in a remarkably self-possessed and -tranquil strain. He discussed fine arts, literature, external politics, -and the news of the day, with as much freedom, courtesy, and refinement -as if they were in a salon or on a public promenade, and as if neither -of them had any momentous affair on hand, any exciting subject to -engross his thoughts. -</p> -<p> -Michel soon realized that the Capuchin had in no wise exaggerated his -pupil's varied knowledge and great talents. In the matter of the dead -languages and classical subjects, Michel was quite unable to hold his -own, for he had had neither the means nor the leisure to go to college -before embracing an artistic career. The Piccinino, seeing that he was -familiar only with translations of the texts which he quoted with an -unfailing accuracy of memory, fell back upon history, modern literature, -Italian poetry, novels, and the stage. Although Michel had read very -extensively for one of his years, and although he had, as he himself put -it, polished and sharpened his mind, hastily, by assimilating everything -that came within his reach, he found that the peasant of Nicolosi, in -the intervals between his hazardous expeditions, in the solitude of his -shady garden, had made even better use of his time than he. It was -wonderful to see a man who could not walk in boots, or breathe in a -cravat, who had never been down to Catania ten times in his life, who -lived in retirement on his mountain, and had never seen the world or -come in contact with cultivated minds, but who had acquired by reading, -reasoning, or the divination of a keen intellect, full knowledge of the -modern world in its most trivial details, as he had acquired in the -cloister knowledge of the ancient world. No subject was unfamiliar to -him; he had learned all by himself several living languages, and he -ostentatiously talked with Michel in pure Tuscan, to show him that no -one at Rome could speak or pronounce it more correctly and melodiously. -</p> -<p> -Michel took so much pleasure in listening and replying to him, that he -forgot for a moment the distrust which so complicated a mind and a -character so difficult to define naturally inspired in him. He made the -rest of the journey almost unconsciously, for they were then following -a smooth and safe road; and when they arrived at the park of Palmarosa, -he started with surprise at the thought of finding himself so soon in -Princess Agatha's presence. -</p> -<p> -Thereupon all that had happened to him during and after the ball passed -through his memory like a series of strange dreams. A delicious emotion -stole over him, and he no longer felt very indignant or very much -horrified at the pretensions of his companion, as he reflected upon -those which he himself cherished. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap26"></a>XXVI -<br><br> -AGATHA -</h4> - -<p> -Michel himself opened the little gate at which the path which they had -followed came to an end, and, having crossed the park diagonally, stood -at the foot of the staircase cut in the steep rock. The reader will not -have forgotten that the Palmarosa palace was built against a precipitous -slope, and formed three distinct buildings, which ascended the mountain -backward, so to speak; that the topmost floor, called the Casino, being -more isolated and cooler than the others, was occupied, according to the -invariable custom of the country, by the most distinguished person in -the family; that is to say, the mistress's apartments were on a level -with the summit of the cliff, which was transformed into a garden, of -small extent but most charming, at a great height, and on the opposite -side from the main façade of the lower floors. There the princess lived -in retirement, as in a luxurious hermitage, having no need to descend -the staircase of her palace, or to be seen by her servants, when she -chose to take a walk in the fresh air. -</p> -<p> -Michel had previously seen this sanctuary, but very hurriedly, as we -know; and when he was sitting there with Magnani during the ball, he was -so excited and talking so earnestly that he had not observed its -arrangement and its surroundings. -</p> -<p> -When he came out upon that terrace with the Piccinino, after scaling the -cliff, he obtained a better idea of its location, and observed that it -was so disposed that it was in fact a little fortress. The staircase cut -in the rock was much better adapted for a means of exit than of -entrance; it was so crowded between two walls of lava, and so steep, -that a woman's hand could easily have hurled back an insolent or -dangerous visitor. Moreover, there was on the last stair, with nothing -in the way of a landing between, a small gilt gate, unusually high and -narrow, hung between two slender marble columns as smooth as the masts -of a ship. On the outer side of both these columns was the sheer -precipice, with nothing to grasp except heavy iron scroll-work in the -style of the seventeenth century, fashioned to represent fantastic -dragons, bristling with spikes in every direction; a decoration that -served a double purpose, and was very difficult to surmount when one had -no purchase and a precipice under his feet. -</p> -<p> -This fortification, if we may so describe it, was not without its -utility in a region where brigands from the mountain carried on their -operations in the valleys and the plain, even to the very gates of the -cities. Michel observed the defences with the satisfaction of a jealous -lover, but the Piccinino glanced at them with an air of contempt, and -even went so far as to say, while they were ascending the staircase, -that it was a sugar-plum citadel, which would be very effective at a -dessert. -</p> -<p> -Michel rang the prescribed number of times, and the gate was immediately -opened. A veiled woman stood there, impatiently awaiting them. In the -darkness, she seized Michel's hand as he entered the garden, and the -young artist, recognizing the Princess Agatha by that gentle pressure, -trembled and lost his head, so that the Piccinino, who did not lose his, -quietly removed the key which Michel had placed in the lock as he rang -the bell. The bandit placed it in his belt after closing the gate, and -when Michel remembered his oversight, it was too late to repair it. They -had all three entered the princess's boudoir, and that was not the -moment to seek a quarrel with a man so entirely free from timidity as -the <i>Destatore's</i> son. -</p> -<p> -Agatha had been warned and as fully advised as possible of the character -and habits of the man with whom it was necessary for her to enter into -relations; she was too much of a Sicilian to have any serious prejudices -against the profession of bandit, and she was determined to make the -greatest pecuniary sacrifices in order to make certain of the -Piccinino's services. Nevertheless, she felt, at sight of him, a painful -emotion which she had difficulty in concealing from him; and when he -kissed her hand, gazing at her with his bold and mocking eyes, she was -conscious of a painful feeling of discomfort, and her face changed -perceptibly, although she was able to maintain an affable and courteous -demeanor. -</p> -<p> -She knew that her first care must be to flatter the adventurer's secret -vanity, by showing him much consideration and calling him <i>captain</i> to -his heart's content. So she did not fail to bestow that title upon him -as she invited him to sit at her right hand, while there was a more -familiar kindliness in her manner of waving Michel to a chair partly -behind her, near the back of her couch. Then, leaning toward him without -looking at him, and resting her elbow close to his shoulder, as if to be -prepared to call his attention by a movement apparently accidental, she -attempted to enter upon the business before them. -</p> -<p> -But the Piccinino, noticing this manœuvre, and apparently considering -that he was too far away from her, left his chair and unceremoniously -seated himself beside her, on the sofa. -</p> -<p> -At that moment the Marquis della Serra, who had probably been waiting in -an adjoining room for the conversation to begin, entered noiselessly, -saluted the bandit with silent courtesy, and sat down near Michel, after -shaking hands with him. Michel felt reassured by the presence of the man -whom he could not help looking upon as his rival. He had already begun -to wonder if he should not soon be tempted to throw the Piccinino out of -the window; and as such an exploit might well have some serious result, -he hoped that the bandit would be so far restrained by the marquis's -grave face and dignified bearing, that he would not dare to overstep the -limits of propriety. -</p> -<p> -The Piccinino knew that he ran no risk of being betrayed by the Marquis -della Serra; indeed it pleased him to see that great nobleman offer him -pledges of the alliance about to be made with him, to which the marquis -must necessarily become a party. -</p> -<p> -"So the Marquis della Serra, too, is my friend and my accomplice?" he -said to Agatha, in a reproachful tone. -</p> -<p> -"Signor Carmelo," replied the marquis, "you doubtless know that I was a -near kinsman of the Prince of Castro-Reale, and that, consequently, I am -your near kinsman. I was very young when the <i>Destatore's</i> true name -was discovered by the police of Catania, and perhaps you are aware that I -rendered the outlaw some important services at that time." -</p> -<p> -"I am familiar with my father's story," replied the young bandit, "and -it is enough for me to know that the Marquis della Serra has transferred -to me the good-will with which he honored him." -</p> -<p> -Gratified in his vanity, resolved not to play a ridiculous rôle, and -equally resolved to make everybody's will bend beneath his own, the -Piccinino desired to carry out his purpose with spirit and good taste. -So he speedily assumed a graceful and dignified attitude on the sofa, -and imparted to his insolent and lustful glance an expression of -benignant and almost respectful interest. -</p> -<p> -The princess broke the ice, and set forth the business in hand -concisely, in almost the same words that Fra Angelo had used to induce -the young wolf to leave his den. The Piccinino listened to her -exposition, and his face did not betray the profound incredulity that -lay behind his apparent attention. -</p> -<p> -But when the princess had finished, he coolly renewed his question as to -the will, and declared that, in case it had already been abstracted, the -kidnapping of Abbé Ninfo would seem to him a very tardy precaution, and -his own intervention a source of useless trouble and <i>expense</i>. -</p> -<p> -Princess Agatha had not been horribly unhappy to no purpose. She had -learned to detect the wiles of concealed passions, and her skill in that -respect was not derived from her simple and straightforward mind, but -acquired at her own expense in her relations with natures directly -contrary to her own. So she very soon concluded that the <i>captain's</i> -scruples were feigned, and that he had some secret motive which it was -most essential to discover. -</p> -<p> -"Signor captain," she said, "if you have formed that opinion of my -position, we must stop here, for I have asked to see you much more for -the purpose of obtaining your advice than of telling you my ideas. -However, be good enough to listen to some details which it was not in -Fra Angelo's power to give you. -</p> -<p> -"My uncle the cardinal has made a will in which he constitutes me his -sole heir; and it was only about ten days ago that, on his way from -Catania to his villa of Ficarazzi, where he now is, he made a détour in -order to pay me a visit which I did not expect. I found my uncle in the -same physical condition as when I saw him a little while before, at -Catania; that is to say, helpless, deaf, and unable to speak distinctly -enough to make himself understood without the assistance of Abbé Ninfo, -who knows or guesses his desires with rare sagacity—unless he -interprets or translates them to suit himself with unmeasured insolence! -However, on that occasion, Abbé Ninfo seemed to me to follow my uncle's -wishes in every respect; for the object of that visit was to show me the -will, and to inform me that the cardinal's affairs were in perfect -order." -</p> -<p> -"Who showed you the will, signora?" said the Piccinino; "for his -eminence cannot move his arm or his hand at all, can he?" -</p> -<p> -"Patience, captain, I will not omit any detail. Doctor Recuperati, the -cardinal's physician, had charge of the will, and I understood clearly -enough, from my uncle's glances and his excitement, that he did not wish -that document to leave his hands. Two or three times Abbé Ninfo came -forward to take it, on the pretext of handing it to me, and my uncle -glared at him with his terrible eyes and roared like a dying lion. The -doctor replaced the will in his portfolio and said to me: 'I beg that -your ladyship will not share his eminence's anxiety. However great the -esteem and confidence inspired by Abbé Ninfo, this paper having been -entrusted to my keeping, no other person than myself—not even the -Pope or the king—shall touch a document of so much importance to -you.' Doctor Recuperati is an honorable, incorruptible man, and as firm -as a rock in emergencies." -</p> -<p> -"True, signora," said the bandit, "but he is stupid, and Abbé Ninfo is -not." -</p> -<p> -"I am well aware that Abbé Ninfo is audacious enough to invent some -sort of a fable and lead the excellent doctor into a commonplace trap. -That is why I have requested you, captain, to remove that hateful -schemer from the scene for a time." -</p> -<p> -"I will do it, if it is not too late; for I should not care to risk my -bones for nothing, and especially to endanger my reputation for talent, -for which I care more than for my life. Once more, signora, do you think -that it is not too late to resort to this expedient?" -</p> -<p> -"If it is too late, captain, it has been so not more than two hours," -replied Agatha, observing him closely; "for, two hours ago, I paid a -visit to my uncle, and the doctor, at a sign from him, showed me the -paper once more, in Abbé Ninfo's presence." -</p> -<p> -"And it was the same?" -</p> -<p> -"Absolutely the same." -</p> -<p> -"There was no codicil in Ninfo's favor?" -</p> -<p> -"Not a word had been changed or added. The priest himself, who blandly -pretends to be interested in my behalf, and whose every sidelong glance -seems to say to me: 'You will have to pay me for my zeal,' insisted on -my re-reading the paper carefully." -</p> -<p> -"And you did it?" -</p> -<p> -"I did it." -</p> -<p> -The Piccinino, in view of the princess's self-possession and -tranquillity, began to form a more exalted idea of her merit; for -hitherto he had seen in her nothing more than a seductive and charming -woman. -</p> -<p> -"I am very well satisfied with these explanations," he said; "but, -before taking any steps, I must know something more. Are you quite sure, -signora, that within the last two hours Abbé Ninfo has not taken Doctor -Recuperati by the throat and extorted that paper from him?" -</p> -<p> -"How can I know, captain? You alone can tell me, when you have consented -to begin your secret investigation. However, the doctor is a strong and -brave man, and his simplicity would not go so far as to allow himself to -be robbed by a weak, chicken-hearted creature like Abbé Ninfo." -</p> -<p> -"But what would prevent Ninfo, who is a scoundrel of the first order, -and has relations with all the greatest villains in the country, from -hiring a <i>bravo</i>, who, for an <i>honorable</i> reward, may have -lain in wait for the doctor and murdered him—or who is all ready -to do it at this moment?" -</p> -<p> -The tone in which the Piccinino presented this suggestion caused the -three persons who were listening to him a painful shock. -</p> -<p> -"Poor doctor!" cried the princess, turning pale; "can it be that such a -crime has been planned or executed? In heaven's name, explain yourself, -signor captain!" -</p> -<p> -"Never fear, signora, that crime has not been committed; but it might -have been, for it was determined upon." -</p> -<p> -"In that case, signor," said the princess, seizing both the bandit's -hands with a gesture of entreaty, "pray go at once. Save the life of an -honorable man, and make sure of the person of a vile knave, capable of -any crime." -</p> -<p> -"And suppose the will falls into my hands during the battle?" said the -bandit, rising but not releasing the princess's hands, which he had -seized in a firm grasp as soon as they touched his. -</p> -<p> -"The will, signor captain?" she replied, energetically. "Of what moment -is half of my fortune, when it is a question of saving victims from the -assassin's dagger? I care not what happens to the will. Seize the -monster who covets it. Ah! if I thought that I could satisfy his -resentment by giving it up to him, he might long ago have looked upon -himself as its undisturbed possessor!" -</p> -<p> -"But suppose that I become its possessor?" said the adventurer, -fastening his lynx eyes on Agatha's; "that would not suit Ninfo, who -knows very well that his eminence is in no condition to make or even to -dictate another. But would you, signora, who have been imprudent enough -to tell me what I did not know, who have informed me to what a -ridiculous custodian a document of so great importance has been -entrusted—would you be perfectly at ease?" -</p> -<p> -The princess had understood for a long time that the bandit would do -nothing unless he could see a possibility of obtaining possession of the -will to his own advantage. She had powerful reasons for being ready to -sacrifice it to him, and to hand over an enormous sum to him without -regret, when he should come to bargain with her for the restitution of -her proof of inheritance; for everybody knew, and the bandit, who seemed -to have studied the affair so carefully beforehand, probably was not -ignorant of the fact, that there was an earlier will in the hands of a -notary, which disinherited Agatha in favor of a distant relation. In a -paroxysm of hatred and resentment against his niece, the cardinal had -made that first will, and had made no secret of the fact. To be sure, -when he became so ill, and received from her marks of sincere respect -and affection, he had made different arrangements. But he had left the -previous will in existence, in case it should be his pleasure to destroy -the new one. When the wicked have a good impulse, they always leave a -door open for the return of their evil genius. -</p> -<p> -Agatha had already made up her mind with respect to the Piccinino's -ambitions; but by the way in which he allowed them to appear, she -understood that there was a large admixture of vanity in his avarice, -and she had the fortunate inspiration to gratify both of the bandit's -passions at the same time. -</p> -<p> -"Signor de Castro-Reale," she said, making an effort to pronounce a name -that she abhorred, and to confer it upon him as a title rightfully -belonging to the <i>Destatore's</i> natural child, "the will would be so -safe in your hands, that I should be glad if I could place it there -myself." -</p> -<p> -Agatha had conquered. The bandit's head was completely turned, and -another passion, which was contending with greed in his heart, gained -the upper hand in a twinkling. He put both of the signora's trembling -hands to his lips and bestowed upon them a kiss so long and so -passionate that Michel and the marquis himself shuddered. Another hope -than that of wealth took possession of the Piccinino's brain. A violent -passion had sprung to life within him on the night of the ball, when he -saw her admired and coveted by so many men whom she did not even deign -to notice, himself included; for she believed that she had never seen -him before this interview, although he hoped that she was simply -pretending not to recognize his face. -</p> -<p> -He had been incited especially by the apparent hopelessness of such a -conquest. Although somewhat disdainful and apparently chaste with the -women of his own station, the Piccinino had the appetites of a wild -beast; but vanity filled so large a place in all his instincts that he -rarely had an opportunity to satisfy them. This time the opportunity was -still uncertain, but the prospect was most intoxicating to his -enterprising, obstinate nature, fruitful in expedients, and enamored of -difficult exploits, reputed to be impossible. -</p> -<p> -"Well, signora," he cried at last, in a chivalrous tone, "your -confidence in me proceeds from a noble heart, and I will not fail to -justify it. Have no fear for Doctor Recuperati: he is in no danger -whatsoever. It is quite true that Abbé Ninfo made a bargain this very -day with a certain man, who promised to murder him; but, not only does -the abbé propose to wait until the cardinal is on his death-bed, which -is not the case as yet, but the dagger which is to strike your friend -will not leave its sheath without my permission. There is no reason for -such great haste, therefore, and I can safely return to my mountain for -a few days. Ninfo is to come in person to advise us of the favorable -moment to bury the knife in the good doctor's ample waistcoat, and, when -that moment comes, instead of performing that agreeable duty, we will -seize the abbé's person, begging him to enjoy the mountain air with us -until it shall please your ladyship to restore his liberty." -</p> -<p> -The princess, who had been perfectly self-possessed thus far, became -perturbed and replied in a quivering voice: -</p> -<p> -"I thought, captain, that you knew of another circumstance which makes -us all very impatient to know that Abbé Ninfo is on the mountain. -Doctor Recuperati is not the only one of my friends who is in danger, -and I instructed Fra Angelo to tell you our other reasons for desiring -to be rid of his presence forthwith." -</p> -<p> -The catlike Piccinino had not finished playing with the victim he -coveted. He pretended not to understand or not to remember that Michel -and his father were principally interested in the abbé's abduction. -</p> -<p> -"I think," he said, "that your highness exaggerates the dangers of -Ninfo's presence about the cardinal. You must be aware that his eminence -has the most profound contempt for that underling; that he can hardly -endure his presence, although he realizes the advantage of having so -zealous and quick-witted an interpreter; in short, that the cardinal, -while he may need his services, will never allow him to meddle with his -affairs. Your highness knows that there is a small legacy for the poor -abbé in the will, and I fancy that you will not stoop to contest the -payment of it." -</p> -<p> -"No, surely not!" replied the princess, surprised to find that the -bandit was so familiar with the contents of the will; "but it is not the -paltry fear that the abbé may obtain more or less money from the -cardinal that I have in my mind at this moment, I assure you. I have -already told you, captain, and Fra Angelo also must have told you, that -his brother and nephew are in great danger so long as Abbé Ninfo is in -a position to injure them with my uncle, the cardinal, and the -Neapolitan police." -</p> -<p> -"Ah!" said the crafty Piccinino, putting his hand to his forehead, "I -had forgotten that, and yet it is a matter of importance to you, -princess, I agree. Indeed I have several things to tell you in that -connection which you do not know. But it is a very delicate subject," he -said, feigning hesitation, "and it would be difficult for me to explain -myself in the presence of the two gentlemen who honor me with their -attention." -</p> -<p> -"You can say anything before the Marquis della Serra and Michelangelo -Lavoratori," said the princess, somewhat alarmed. -</p> -<p> -"No, signora, I know my duty too well to do so, and my respect for you -is too great to allow me to forget the proprieties to that point. If -your highness is disposed to listen to me without witnesses, I will -inform you of what has been planned and determined upon. If not," he -added, pretending to be preparing to go, "I will go and wait at Nicolosi -until you deign to advise me of the day and hour when it will be -agreeable to you to listen to me." -</p> -<p> -"At once, signor, at once," rejoined the princess hastily. "I am more -interested and more alarmed because the lives of my friends are -endangered for my sake than by any question of money. Come," she added, -rising, and resolutely placing her arm in the bandit's, "we will talk in -my flower-garden, and these gentlemen will await us here. Stay, stay, my -friends," she said to the marquis and Michel, who would have retired, -although the idea of that tête-à-tête caused them both an indefinable -dread; "I really need a breath of fresh air, and Signor de Castro-Reale -is kind enough to offer me his arm." -</p> -<p> -Michel and the marquis, as soon as they were alone, looked at each other -as if they had had the same thought, and, hastening each to a window, -stood where they would not lose sight of the princess for an instant, -although they could not overhear a conversation from which she herself -seemed content to exclude them. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap27"></a>XXVII -<br><br> -DIPLOMACY -</h4> - -<p> -"How did it happen, dear princess," said the bandit, in a careless tone, -as soon as he and Agatha were in the garden, arm-in-arm, "that you were -imprudent enough to try to make me speak of Michel in presence of a -cicisbeo so valuable to you as the Marquis della Serra? Your highness -forgets one thing: that if I know the secrets of Villa Ficarazzi, I -probably know those of Villa Palmarosa as well, since Abbé Ninfo -maintains an equally assiduous surveillance over both houses." -</p> -<p> -"So Abbé Ninfo has seen you first, eh, captain?" rejoined the princess, -trying to assume an equally unembarrassed tone; "and he took you into -his confidence in order to obtain your services in his interest?" -</p> -<p> -Agatha knew very well what to think in that respect. Certainly, if she -had not discovered that the abbé had already sought the Piccinino's -assistance in abducting, or perhaps murdering Michel, she would not have -thought it necessary to resort to him in order to procure the abduction -of the abbé. But she was careful not to allow her real motive to be -discovered. She desired that the bandit's self-love should be flattered -by what he might consider an instinctive impulse on her part. -</p> -<p> -"From whatever source I derive my information," he replied, with a -smile, "I leave it to you to judge of its accuracy. The last time that -the cardinal came to visit your highness, there was a young man at the -gate of your park whose distinguished features and bearing were in -striking contrast with his costume, which was covered with dust and worn -by a long journey. What caprice induced the cardinal to examine that -young man and to insist upon questioning him? that is something which -Ninfo himself does not know and has commissioned me to find out, if -possible. One thing is certain: that the mania, which has beset the -cardinal for a long time, of inquiring the name and age of all the young -men of the lower classes whose faces attract his attention, has survived -the loss of activity and memory. It is as if he still retained a sort of -vague distrust, a relic of his exalted police functions; and his -imperative glance commands Abbé Ninfo to ask questions and report to -him. It is true that when the abbé showed him the written result of his -investigation, he seemed to take no interest in it; in like manner, -whenever the abbé annoys him with his impertinent requests or -insinuating questions, his eminence, after reading the first words, -closes his eyes angrily, to show that he doesn't wish to be fatigued any -more. Perhaps your highness did not know these details, which Doctor -Recuperati knows nothing of; for, during the few hours' sleep which the -excellent doctor is permitted to enjoy, the watchfulness of the devoted -servants with whom Your Highness has surrounded the cardinal does not -avail to prevent Ninfo from entering his room, waking him without -ceremony, and placing before him certain written sentences from which he -hopes for favorable results. When the cardinal is awakened in this way, -his pain and his anger make his mind momentarily more lucid than usual; -he reads, seems to understand, and tries to utter words of which an -occasional syllable is intelligible to his persecutor; but almost -immediately he collapses again, and the feeble flame of his life is so -much nearer extinction." -</p> -<p> -"So that villain has ceased to be a mere flatterer and spy, to become my -unfortunate uncle's torturer and assassin?" cried the princess, -indignantly. "You must see, signor captain, that he must be delivered -from him at once, and that I need no other motive for desiring that he -be taken out of our way." -</p> -<p> -"Pardon me, signora," rejoined the bandit, obstinately. "If I had not -informed you of these things, you would still have personal motives of -even greater weight, which you do not choose to tell me, but which I -have learned from Ninfo. I never enter into an affair without making -myself thoroughly acquainted with it; and it sometimes falls to my lot, -as you see, to question both parties. Permit me to continue my -disclosures, therefore, and I trust that they will lead to disclosures -on your part. -</p> -<p> -"Abbé Ninfo did not examine very closely or ask many questions of the -individual at your highness's park gate. After a moment, seeing that the -cardinal continued somewhat agitated by the encounter, as if the young -man's face had aroused memories which he could not arrange and -place,—for his eminence often wears himself out, it seems, in such -painful mental toil,—the abbé retraced his steps and examined the -young man more carefully. The young man evidently had some reason for -being on his guard, for he deceived the abbé, who really took him for a -poor devil, and even gave him alms. But two days later, the abbé, -having, for the purpose of spying, disguised himself as a workman -employed in the preparations for your ball, soon discovered that his -poor devil was a brilliant artist, very much petted and favored by your -highness, and by no means in a position to accept alms at the gate of a -palace, since he is the son of a well-to-do artisan, Pier-Angelo -Lavoratori. -</p> -<p> -"On the night succeeding this discovery, the abbé did not fail to place -before Monsignor Hieronymo a sheet of paper containing this information -in large letters. But by dint of trying to tighten the last remaining -chords of the instrument, the abbé broke them. The cardinal did not -understand. The names of Pier-Angelo and Michelangelo Lavoratori -conveyed no meaning to him. He muttered a violent oath because Ninfo -disturbed his slumber. And so," added the Piccinino, with malicious -significance, "the fears which your highness entertains, or pretends to -entertain, with respect to Pier-Angelo are entirely without foundation. -Although the cardinal long ago prosecuted that excellent man as a -conspirator, he has so completely forgotten him that even Ninfo has no -hope of reviving the memory of an affair of which he himself knows -nothing, and your protégé is in no danger from any denunciation by -him, at present." -</p> -<p> -"I breathe again," said the princess, allowing the bandit to take her -hand in his, and even responding to his pressure, with generous -confidence. "Your words do me good, captain, and I bless you for having -confidence enough in me to reveal the truth to me. That was my whole -fear; but, since the cardinal remembers nothing and the abbé knows -nothing, I trust to your sagacity for the rest. Look you, captain, it -seems to me this is what we have to do. Do you find in your fertile -genius some method of obtaining possession of the will, and see that the -abbé is informed of it, so that there will be no further occasion for -him to persecute the worthy doctor; then keep the abbé's attention -diverted so that he will allow my unfortunate uncle to die in peace. -That will conclude by diplomatic methods an affair in which I have -feared that blood might be shed over paltry questions of money." -</p> -<p> -"Your excellency goes very fast!" rejoined the Piccinino. "The abbé -cannot be put to sleep so easily with regard to another subject, which -it is impossible for me, despite my respect, my awe and my -embarrassment, to pass over in silence." -</p> -<p> -"Speak, speak!" said Agatha, hastily. -</p> -<p> -"Very well, since your highness authorizes me to do so, and does not -choose to understand a hint, I will tell you that Abbé Ninfo, while in -quest of political intrigues which he has not succeeded in discovering, -has put his hand upon a love affair which he has turned to his -advantage." -</p> -<p> -"I do not understand," said the princess, with an air of sincerity that -startled the adventurer. -</p> -<p> -"Can Ninfo have been gulling me," he thought, "or is this woman strong -enough to hold her own against me? We will see." -</p> -<p> -"Signora," he said, in a honeyed tone, holding Agatha's hand against his -breast, "you will detest me, I suppose. However, I must serve you -against your will by telling you what I know. The abbé discovered that -Michelangelo was admitted every day at certain hours to the private -apartment in your Casino; that he did not eat with your servants or with -the other workmen, but with you, in secret; in a word, that, when he -took his siesta, he rested from his artistic labors in the arms of the -loveliest and most lovable of women." -</p> -<p> -"It is false!" cried the princess; "it is an abominable falsehood. I -treated that young man with the distinction which I considered that I -owed to his talent and his ideas. He ate with his father in a room next -to mine, and took his siesta in my picture gallery. Abbé Ninfo did not -watch very closely, or he might have told you that Michel, being utterly -tired out, passed two or three nights under my roof." -</p> -<p> -"He told me that, too," replied the Piccinino, who always chose to seem -to know beforehand what anyone told him. -</p> -<p> -"Very well, Signor de Castro-Reale," said Agatha, in a firm voice, -looking him full in the face, "there is no doubt about the fact; but I -can swear upon my mother's soul and your mother's that that young man -never saw me until the day of the ball, when his father first introduced -him to me, in presence of two hundred mechanics. I talked to him during -the ball, on the main staircase, and the Marquis della Serra, who was -escorting me, complimented him, as I did myself, upon his paintings. -From that moment down to this very evening Michel had never seen me; ask -himself! You are not a man whom one can deceive, captain; use your -perspicacity, and I will trust it." -</p> -<p> -The Piccinino quivered with pleasure at this concise declaration, made -with the assurance which truth alone can give, and he pressed Agatha's -hand against his breast with such force that she detected his sentiments -at last. She had a moment of terror, augmented by a ghastly -reminiscence. But she realized, in a flash, the full extent of the -dangers to which Michel had been exposed, and, postponing the matter of -her own safety to a more favorable season, she determined to deal -tenderly with Carmelo Tomabene's pride. -</p> -<p> -"What motive could Abbé Ninfo have had in telling us that extraordinary -story?" he exclaimed. -</p> -<p> -Agatha fancied that she could understand that the abbé had detected the -violent passion for herself by which she saw at last that the bandit was -possessed, and that he had endeavored to incite him to vengeance by his -tale of intrigue. "If that is so," she thought, "I will use the same -weapons, vile Ninfo, since you have been kind enough to furnish me with -them." -</p> -<p> -"Listen, captain," she said; "you who know men so well and read so -readily the innermost folds of the conscience, must have discovered -that, in addition to all his manifest vices, the abbé is an insatiable -libertine? Do you suppose that he has confined himself to coveting my -inheritance? did he not let you see that it was not for money alone that -he would try to sell me a part of it if he should succeed in obtaining -possession of it?" -</p> -<p> -"Yes!" cried the Piccinino, this time with the utmost sincerity; "I -thought that I could detect revolting desires and hopes on the part of -that monster of ugliness and lust. His affected incredulity concerning -the possibility of resistance by a woman, in such cases, is simply an -attempt to console himself when he thinks of his own physical and moral -ugliness. Yes, yes, I suspected it in spite of his hypocrisy. I will not -say that he loves you; that would be a profanation of the word love; but -he desires you, and he is jealous. Jealous, do I say! Ah! that word -again is too respectable! Jealousy is the passion of young hearts, and -his is decrepit. He suspects and detests everybody about you. In fact, -he has devised an infernal method of conquering you: judging rightly -that the desire to ransom your inheritance would not suffice, and -supposing that you loved this young artist, he has determined to use him -as a hostage and to compel you to purchase at his own price the life and -liberty of Michelangelo." -</p> -<p> -"I ought to have expected that," replied the princess, affecting an air -of contemptuous tranquillity, although her whole body was bathed in cold -perspiration. "And so he selected you, captain, as his associate in an -undertaking worthy of those men who devote themselves to the most -hideous of all trades, the mere name of which is so degrading that no -true woman could bear to speak it in any tongue! It seems to me that -that mark of confidence on the part of the excellent Abbé Ninfo merits -a somewhat severe punishment at your hands!" -</p> -<p> -Agatha had touched the right chord. The abbé's execrable projects, -which had previously moved the young bandit to nothing more than -satirical contempt, appeared to him now in the light of a personal -insult and kindled the thirst for vengeance in him. So true is it that -love, even in a wild, unbridled heart, arouses the sentiment of manly -dignity. -</p> -<p> -"Severe punishment!" he said, in a deep voice, with clenched teeth; "he -shall have it!—But," he added, "have no further anxiety about -anything, signora; deign to place your fate in my hands unreservedly." -</p> -<p> -"My fate is already in your hands, captain," replied Agatha; "my -fortune, my reputation, and the lives of my friends: think you that I -have an anxious air?" -</p> -<p> -And she looked him through and through with a profound gaze, wherein she -was so happily inspired by the superior sagacity of the courageous -woman, that the Piccinino felt its influence and found that respect and -awe were mingled with his passion.—"Ah! you romantic woman," he -thought, "you have not outgrown the belief that a bandit chief must be a -stage hero or a chevalier of the Middle Ages! And here am I compelled to -play that part for your pleasure! Very well, I will play it. Nothing is -difficult to him who has read much and reasoned much.—Indeed, why -should I not be a hero in good earnest?" he said to himself, as he -walked silently beside that trembling woman whom he believed to be so -trustful and confiding, pressing her arm to his side with his own -trembling arm. "If I have not deigned to be one hitherto, it is simply -because the opportunity has never offered, and my essays at grandeur -would have been absurd. With such a woman as this, the game is well -worth the candle, and I cannot believe that it is difficult to be -sublime when the reward is destined to be so sweet. It is an undertaking -founded upon a selfish motive more elevated, but no less substantial or -less logical than others." -</p> -<p> -Before assuming definitively the attitude of the princess's true knight, -he determined to do away with a lingering remnant of distrust, and he -was almost ingenuous in seeking to cure himself of it. -</p> -<p> -"The only weakness of which I am conscious," he said, "is the dread of -playing a ridiculous rôle. Ninfo wished me to play an infamous one, he -shall be punished for it; but if your highness really loves that young -man—why, that young man also will have reason to regret having -deceived me!" -</p> -<p> -"How am I to understand you?" rejoined Agatha, leading him into the ray -of light which the chandelier in her boudoir cast into the garden; "I do -really love Michelangelo, Pier-Angelo, and Fra Angelo, as devoted -friends and estimable men. To rescue them from the enmity of a villain I -would give all the money that anyone might ask. But look at me, captain, -and look at that young man musing yonder behind that window. Do you -consider that there can possibly exist a bond based upon impure passion -between two persons of our respective ages and conditions? You do not -know my character. Nobody has ever understood it. Will you be the first -one to do it justice? I wish it might be so, for I care very much for -your esteem, and I should think that I was wholly undeserving of it if I -entertained for that child sentiments which I feared to allow you to -detect." -</p> -<p> -As she spoke, Agatha, who had dropped the bandit's arm, took it again to -return to the boudoir; and he was so grateful to her for that mark of -trustful friendship, of which she desired Michel and the marquis to be -witnesses, that he felt intoxicated and, as it were, beside himself with -joy. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap28"></a>XXVIII -<br><br> -JEALOUSY -</h4> - -<p> -Neither the marquis nor Michel had heard a word of the conversation we -have reported. But the first was tranquil in his mind, the other was -not. The marquis, having assured himself that the princess was calm, had -no fear that she incurred any immediate danger with the brigand; whereas -Michel, not being familiar with her character, suffered keenly at the -bare thought that the Piccinino might, in his speech, have gone beyond -the bounds of respect. His suffering was intensified when he saw the -Piccinino's face as he returned to the boudoir. -</p> -<p> -That face, ordinarily so indifferent and composed, was, as it were, -illuminated by confidence and joy. The little man seemed to have grown a -cubit taller, and his black eyes flashed flames which one would not have -believed could be kindled in a head so cool and calculating. -</p> -<p> -No sooner had the princess, who was somewhat fatigued from having walked -a long while in a small space, seated herself on the couch, to which he -escorted her with the most dignified courtesy, than he fell, rather than -sat down upon a chair, on the other side of the small boudoir, but with -his face turned toward her as if he had stationed himself there to gaze -at her in the glare of the chandelier. In truth, the Piccinino, after -having enjoyed in the garden the sweetness of her voice, the flattering -significance of her words, and the softness of her hand, desired, in -order to put the finishing touch to the sensuous delight which he had -felt for the first time in his life, to gaze at her at his leisure, -without the labor of speech or of thought. He fell into a silent -meditation, more eloquent than Michel could have desired. He feasted his -bold eyes with the sight of that exquisite and fascinating woman, whom -it seemed to him that he already possessed, as with a treasure which he -had stolen, and which he took pleasure in gloating over, as it lay -gleaming before him. -</p> -<p> -The young painter's distress was intensified by the fact that, under the -mysterious influence of that all-pervading passion, which but just born -was already spreading with the rapidity of a conflagration, the bandit -acquired a strange power of fascination. His exquisite beauty shone -forth like a star emerging from the vapors on the horizon. All that was -unusual in the outlines of his features and disquieting in their veiled -expression gave way to a subtle charm, an overpowering effusiveness, -albeit silent, and, as it were, overwhelmed by its own ardor. He was -lying back in his chair, but no longer affected indifference or -absent-mindedness. His hanging arms, his bent back, his eyes, glistening -and fascinated, and fixed intently on the princess, indicated that he -was shattered, as it were, by the explosion of a force unknown to -himself, and drowned in the anticipated joys of his triumph. Michel was -afraid of him for the first time. He would still have defied him -fearlessly in the ill-omened solitude of the <i>Destatore's Cross</i>; but -in that room, radiant with a strange ecstasy, he seemed too overpowering -for any woman to escape the fascination of that basilisk glance. -</p> -<p> -However, Agatha did not seem to notice it, and whenever he turned his -eyes from the bandit to her, he found her apparently calm and -undisturbed, having no thought either of attacking or of defending -herself. -</p> -<p> -"My friends," she said, after pausing a moment to take breath, "we can -say good-night and separate with our minds at rest. I place my full -confidence in this new friend whom Providence, acting through the wisdom -of Fra Angelo, has sent to us. You will share my confidence when I tell -you that he knew beforehand, and knew far better than ourselves, what we -had to fear and to hope." -</p> -<p> -"It is a decidedly interesting affair, it is true," said the Piccinino, -making an effort to emerge from his dreaming; "and it is time that this -young man should know why I roared with laughter when he came to see me. -You will laugh too, I hope, Master Michelangelo, when you learn that you -came and entrusted your fate to a man who had been strenuously urged, an -hour earlier, to do you a bad turn; and if I were not calm and prudent -in such affairs, if I believed blindly the words of those who came to -consult me, while you were urging me in her highness's behalf to kidnap -Abbé Ninfo, I should have seized you and thrown you into my cellar, -securely bound and gagged, at the request of Abbé Ninfo. I see by your -manner that you would have resisted vigorously. Oh! I know that you are -brave, and I fancy that you are stronger than I. You have an uncle who -has kept his muscles in play so persistently for twenty years past, -breaking stone, that he cannot have lost any of the strength which -caused him to be called <i>Iron Arm</i> when he plied another trade on the -mountain; but, when one is engaged in a matter of great political -moment, one takes precautions, and I had but to touch a little bell to -have my house surrounded by determined men, who would not have afforded -you even the pleasure of resistance." -</p> -<p> -Having spoken thus, his eyes fixed upon Michel with a playful -expression, the Piccinino turned again to the princess. She had -concealed her pallor behind her fan, and when the brigand met her eyes, -they were armed with a tranquil expression which dispelled the last -traces of his ironical humor. The secret pleasure which it always -afforded him to frighten those who ventured into his presence -disappeared before that womanly glance, which seemed to say to him: "You -shall not do it, I forbid you." -</p> -<p> -So that he at once assumed an expression of hearty good-will, and said -to Michel: -</p> -<p> -"You see, my young friend, that I had my reasons for insisting upon an -explanation of the affair, and for not being in too much of a hurry. Now -that I am convinced that honor and truth are on one side, infamy and -falsehood on the other, my choice is made, and you can sleep with both -eyes shut. I propose to go with you to Catania," he added, addressing -Michel in an undertone, "where I must arrange the worthy abbé's -departure for to-morrow. But I absolutely require two hours' rest. Can -you promise me a corner in your house where I can sleep soundly for two -hours without danger of being seen? For my features are hardly known in -the city, and I do not wish them to become known there until it is -necessary. Tell me, can I enter your house without fear of inquisitive -eyes, especially women's eyes?" -</p> -<p> -"I have a young sister who is moderately inquisitive," replied Michel -smiling; "but she will be in bed at this time of night. Trust me, as I -trusted you; I will give you my own bed, and sit up in the room if you -wish." -</p> -<p> -"I accept," said the bandit, who, while talking with Michel, was trying -to overhear the words, unimportant in themselves, which the princess was -exchanging with the marquis, in order not to embarrass the conversation -between the two young men. Michel observed that, notwithstanding the -Piccinino's assertion that he could not do two things at once, he did -not lose a gesture, a word, or a movement of Agatha's, while he was -talking with him. -</p> -<p> -When he was assured of the two hours' absolute rest which was, he said, -indispensable to put him in a condition to act intelligently, the -Piccinino rose and prepared to retire. But the coquettish moderation -with which he arranged his cloak about his flexible figure, the languid -grace of his preoccupied air during that momentous operation, and the -imperceptible quivering of his silky black moustache, showed plainly -enough that he went away with regret, and after the manner of a man who -is striving to dispel the mists of drunkenness in order to return to -work. -</p> -<p> -"You do not wish to be seen?" said Agatha; "then step into the marquis's -carriage with Michel. He will drive you to the outskirts of the city, -and you can slip through the narrow streets." -</p> -<p> -"Many thanks, signora!" replied the bandit. "I have no desire to take -your servants and the signor marquis's into my confidence. To-morrow -morning Abbé Ninfo, whose discernment exceeds their discretion, would -learn that a mountaineer came out of your apartments whom nobody had -seen go in; and the excellent abbé, thinking that that performance -savored somewhat of the <i>bravo</i>, would insult me by withdrawing the -confidence with which he honors me. I must be his fidus Achates and his -very good friend for twelve hours more. I will go out with Michel as I -came." -</p> -<p> -"And when shall I see you again?" said Agatha, courageously offering him -her hand, despite the lustful flame in his unshrinking eyes. -</p> -<p> -"You will not see me again," he replied, putting one knee to the floor -and kissing her hand with a sort of frenzy in marked contrast to the -humility of his attitude, "until your orders are carried out. I cannot -fix the day and hour, but I will answer for the safety of all your -friends—even the stout doctor—with my life! I know the way -to your Casino. When I ring <i>one</i>, <i>three</i> and <i>seven</i> at -the gate of your flower-garden, will your ladyship deign to admit me to -your presence?" -</p> -<p> -"You can rely upon it, captain," she replied, giving no sign of the -alarm caused her by that request. -</p> -<p> -The Marquis della Serra did not fail to take his leave at the same time -that the two young men went from the boudoir into the garden. His -respect for the princess was so punctilious that he would not for the -world have assumed the attitude of a favored lover. But he descended the -staircase of the palace slowly, still disturbed in mind, and ready to go -up again at the slightest noise. -</p> -<p> -On leaving the garden, the Piccinino locked the gate himself and handed -the key to Michel, reproaching him for his carelessness. -</p> -<p> -"Except for me," he said, "this all-important key—this key that -cannot be replaced—would have been left in the lock." -</p> -<p> -A moment's self-possession, before entering the boudoir, had sufficed -for the bandit to take the impression of the key on a lump of wax which -he always carried with him for emergencies. -</p> -<p> -They had no sooner started down the staircase cut in the rock than -Agatha's maid, who was entirely devoted to her, came to her and said: -</p> -<p> -"The young man whom your highness sent for is waiting in the picture -gallery." -</p> -<p> -Agatha put her finger to her lips to warn the maid to speak lower on -such occasions, and went down to the floor below, where Magnani had been -waiting more than half an hour. -</p> -<p> -Poor Magnani had been more dead than alive since he received the -princess's mysterious message. Being very different from the Piccinino, -he was so far from entertaining the slightest hope that he imagined the -worst that could possibly happen. "I must have made a terrible mistake," -he said to himself, "in confiding to Michel the secret of my folly. He -probably talked about it with his sister, and Mila has seen the -princess, who treats her like a spoiled child. The chatter of that girl, -who cannot understand the gravity of such a disclosure, terrified and -disgusted the princess. But why not banish me without any explanation? -What can she say to me that will not be horribly painful and uselessly -cruel?" -</p> -<p> -That hour of suspense seemed to him a century. He was cold; he felt as -if he should die, when the secret door of the gallery opened -noiselessly, and he saw Agatha approaching him, pale with the excitement -through which she had just passed, and diaphanous in her white lace -cape. The enormous gallery was lighted only by a single glass lamp. It -seemed to him that the princess did not walk, but that she glided toward -him, after the manner of a ghost. -</p> -<p> -She approached without hesitation, and offered him her hand as if he -were an intimate friend. And, as he hesitated to give her his, thinking -that he was dreaming, fearing that he might misunderstand the meaning of -that gesture, she said to him in a soft but firm voice: -</p> -<p> -"Give me your hand, my child, and tell me if you still feel for me the -friendship which you once expressed when you thought that you owed me -some gratitude for your mother's cure. Do you remember? I have never -forgotten that generous outburst of your heart!" -</p> -<p> -Magnani could not reply. He dared not put Agatha's hand to his lips. He -pressed it gently in his as he bent over it. She felt that he was -trembling. -</p> -<p> -"You are very timid," she said; "I hope that if you are afraid of me -there is no touch of distrust in your fear. I must speak to you quickly; -do you answer in the same way. Are you disposed to do me a very great -favor, at the risk of your life? I ask it in your mother's name!" -</p> -<p> -Magnani fell on his knees. Only with his eyes, which were streaming with -tears, could he testify his enthusiasm and his devotion. Agatha -understood him. -</p> -<p> -"You must return to Catania," she said; "run until you overtake two men -who have just left here and who will not have five minutes' start of -you. One is Michelangelo Lavoratori; you can readily recognize him in -the moonlight. The other is a mountaineer wrapped in his cloak. Follow -them without seeming to watch them, but do not lose sight of them. At -the least suspicious gesture on that man's part, you will hurl yourself -upon him and throw him down. You are strong," she added, touching the -young artisan's robust arm; "but he is active and cunning. Be on your -guard! See, here is a dagger; use it only in self-defence. That man is -either my enemy or my preserver, I do not know which. Spare his life, if -possible. Fly with Michel, if you can thereby avoid a bloody battle. You -live in the same house with Michel, do you not?" -</p> -<p> -"Almost, signora." -</p> -<p> -"Be where you can assist him at the first alarm. Do not go to bed; pass -the night as near his room as you can. The man I speak of will go away -before daylight; do not leave your house and do not let Michel go away -unless you go together, always together, do you understand? And be ready -until I give different orders. To-morrow I will explain everything to -you; I will see you. Rely upon me, from this day forth, as a second -mother. Come, my child, follow me; I will put you on the track of Michel -and his companion." -</p> -<p> -She took him by the arm and hastily led him up to the Casino, which they -passed through without a word. She opened the garden gate, and pointing -to the staircase in the rock, "Go," she said, "celerity, caution, and -your noble heart, the heart of a man of the people, for your friend's -buckler!" -</p> -<p> -Magnani descended the stairs as swiftly and noiselessly as an arrow. He -wasted no time in reflection, nor did he exhaust the force of his -determination by worrying. He did not even ask himself the question -whether Michel was his fortunate rival, and whether he should not be -tempted to run him through the heart. Impelled by the magic force which -Agatha's hand and breath had given him, he was all ready to lay down his -life for that favored child of fortune, and he felt no more regret than -hesitation at the thought of sacrificing himself thus. Nay, more, he was -happy and proud to obey the woman he loved, and her words rang in his -heart like a voice from Heaven. -</p> -<p> -He was soon in the fields and discovered two men walking along a path. -He recognized Michel; he recognized the mountaineer's cloak. He took -pains not to show himself; but he measured with a glance the distance -and the obstacles that he would have to pass over in case of an alarm. -The mountaineer stopped for a moment, talking earnestly. Magnani, with a -determined effort of strength and activity, which under other -circumstances would have been beyond the power of man, reached a point -sufficiently near to overhear him, and found that he was talking of love -and poetry. -</p> -<p> -He allowed them to gain on him again, and, gliding through a narrow path -among the blocks of lava that lay in great heaps at the entrance to the -city, he arrived before them in the yard of the adjoining houses -occupied by his family and Michel's. He watched his young friend and his -suspicious guest enter the house. Then Magnani made the circuit of the -houses, looking for a place where he could pass the night, unseen, but -within hearing of the slightest noise, the slightest commotion inside. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap29"></a>XXIX -<br><br> -APPARITIONS -</h4> - -<p> -Pier-Angelo had been notified by the princess and by a message from the -monk of Mal Passo, that he must not be alarmed by his son's absence, and -that, in case of danger, the young man would pass the night either at -the convent with his uncle, or in the Marquis della Serra's palace. The -princess would have preferred the latter course; but the necessity of -showing absolute confidence in the brigand, concerning whose -sensitiveness Fra Angelo had fully informed her, had triumphed over her -anxiety. With great foresight she had sent for Magnani, and we have seen -that she was justified in her reliance upon that excellent young man. -</p> -<p> -Pier-Angelo, naturally optimistic, and reassured by the message he had -received, had gone to bed and was making up for the fatigue of the ball -like a man who knows how to use time to advantage. Mila had also gone to -her room; but she was not asleep. She had passed the afternoon with the -princess, and, upon being questioned by her concerning her friends, had -spoken of Antonio Magnani among others with a warmth which would have -betrayed the secret of her heart, even if Agatha had not been watchful -and penetrating. It was the favorable account the girl had given of her -young neighbor which had finally led the princess to call upon him for -aid in the embarrassment of her situation. She had said to herself that -Magnani might well become Mila's husband some day, and that nothing -could be more natural, therefore, than that he should have a share in -shaping Michelangelo's destiny. She had entrusted Mila with the message -to Magnani to come to her that night, and poor Magnani, on receiving the -message, had nearly fainted. Should we not rather say <i>poor Mila</i>? But -Mila had attributed the young man's confusion to his timidity alone. -Agatha was the last person whom she would have suspected of being her -rival, not that she was not in her eyes the loveliest of women, but -because, in a pure heart, there is no room for jealousy of the persons -whom one loves. On the contrary, the true-hearted child was happy in the -mark of esteem and confidence with which her dear Agatha had honored -Magnani. She was proud of it for his sake, and would have liked to be -able to carry him such messages every day. -</p> -<p> -But the princess had thought that she ought not to conceal from Mila the -fact that Michel was necessarily involved in an adventure in which he -might incur some danger, and that Magnani would assist him to defend -himself. -</p> -<p> -So Mila was anxious; she had said nothing to her father of her fears; -but she had been out more than ten times on the road to the villa, -listening to noises in the distance, watching all the passers-by, and -returning to the house each time more distressed and alarmed than -before. At last, when eleven o'clock struck, she dared not go out again, -but remained in her room, sometimes at the window, where she tired her -eyes staring to no purpose, sometimes beside her bed, where she fell on -her knees, depressed beyond measure, with her face buried in the pillow. -At times her pulses throbbed so violently that she mistook the throbbing -for a noise by her side. Then she would start and raise her head, and, -hearing nothing, try to pray. -</p> -<p> -At last, about midnight, she thought that she heard distinctly a faint -sound of irregular footsteps in the yard. She looked and fancied that -she saw a shadow glide along the wall and disappear in the darkness. It -was Magnani; but she could not distinguish any well-defined form, and -was not sure that she had not been deceived by her own imagination. -</p> -<p> -A few moments later two men stole noiselessly up the outside staircase -of the house. Mila had begun to pray again, and did not hear them until -they were under her window. She ran to the window, and seeing only the -tops of their heads, as she was directly above them, she had no doubt -that they were her brother and Magnani returning together. She hastily -rearranged her lovely hair, which had fallen over her shoulders, and -hurried to meet them. But as she passed into Michel's chamber, the outer -door of that chamber opened, and she found herself face to face with -Michel and a man who was fully a head shorter than Antonio Magnani. -</p> -<p> -The Piccinino, whose features were hidden by the hood of his cloak, -hastily drew back and closed the door, saying: "You probably did not -expect your mistress to-night, Michel. Under any other circumstances it -would give me great pleasure to see her, for she seemed to be as -beautiful as the Madonna; but at this moment you will oblige me greatly -if you can send her away without letting her see me." -</p> -<p> -"Have no fear," replied the young artist. "This woman is my sister, and -I will send her back to her own room. Stay here a moment, behind the -door." -</p> -<p> -"Mila," he said, entering the room again and holding the door between -his companion and himself, "you seem to have taken a mania for sitting -up late like a night-bird. Go back to your own room, my dear love, I am -not alone. One of father's apprentices has asked me to take him in, and -I am going to share my bed with him. You must see that you shouldn't -stay here another moment, unless you want to be seen with your hair and -dress in disorder." -</p> -<p> -"I will go," said Mila; "but tell me first, Michel, whether Magnani came -home with you?" -</p> -<p> -"What does it matter to you?" rejoined Michel, testily. Mila heaved a -profound sigh, and returned to her room, where she threw herself on her -bed, quite disheartened, but determined to pretend to be asleep, and to -listen to everything that was said in the adjoining room. Perhaps -something had happened to Magnani; her brother's abrupt manner seemed to -her of evil augury. -</p> -<p> -As soon as the Piccinino found himself alone with Michel, he asked him -to throw the bolts and to place a mattress from the bed against the thin -warped door of the adjoining room, through which the light could be seen -and their voices heard. When that was done, he asked him to make sure -that his father was asleep, or, if he were still awake, to wish him -good-night, so that the old man might not take it into his head to come -upstairs. As he spoke, the bandit unceremoniously threw himself on -Michel's bed, having first removed his rich doublet, and, covering his -head with his cloak, seemed determined not to lose an instant in going -to sleep. -</p> -<p> -Michel went downstairs as he was requested; but he was no sooner on the -staircase than the young outlaw sprang to his feet as swiftly and -lightly as a bird, threw the mattress aside, drew the bolt, and -approached Mila's bed, beside which her little lamp was still burning. -</p> -<p> -Mila heard him come in; but she supposed that Michel had come to make -sure that she was in bed. It did not occur to her that another could -have the audacity to enter her room thus, and, like a child who is -afraid of being scolded, she closed her eyes and lay perfectly still. -</p> -<p> -The Piccinino had never seen a beautiful woman without being disturbed -and restless until he had examined her carefully, in order that he might -cease to think of her if her beauty was imperfect, or cast his net over -her if her style of beauty succeeded in inflaming his disdainful heart, -a strange compound of love and indolence, energy and torpor. Few men of -twenty-five have lived so chaste and self-restrained a life as the -bandit of Ætna; but few imaginations are so fertile as his was in -dreams of pleasure and in boundless appetites. It seemed that he was -always seeking to kindle his passions in order to test their intensity, -but that he abstained from gratifying them most of the time, fearing -lest his enjoyment might fall short of the idea he had conceived of it. -Certain it is that on the few occasions on which he had given way, he -had been profoundly depressed afterwards, and had reproached himself for -having expended so much exertion for a pleasure so soon exhausted. -</p> -<p> -Perhaps he had other reasons for wishing to see Michel's sister's -features without Michel's knowledge. However that may be, he gazed at -her attentively for a moment, and, enraptured by her beauty, her -youthful grace, and her air of innocence, he asked himself whether he -would not do better to love that fascinating child rather than a woman -older than himself and doubtless more difficult to persuade. -</p> -<p> -At that moment Mila, weary of feigning sleep, and more eager for news of -Magnani than afraid of her brother's reproaches, opened her eyes and saw -the stranger leaning over her. She saw his eyes gleaming under his hood, -and, terror-stricken, she was on the point of crying out, when he put -his hand over her mouth. -</p> -<p> -"Child," he said in a low voice, "if you say a word, you are lost. Hush, -and I will go away. Come, come, my lovely angel," he added, in a -caressing tone, "don't be afraid of the friend of your family; before -long perhaps you will thank him for having disturbed your sleep." -</p> -<p> -And, being unable to resist an insane impulse of coquetry, of a sort -that often caused him suddenly to forget his resolutions and his -cautious instincts, he threw back his hood and disclosed his beautiful -features, made still more beautiful by a sweet and winning smile. The -innocent Mila thought that she had had a vision. The diamonds that -sparkled on the young man's breast so heightened the general effect that -she did not know whether it was an angel or a prince in disguise who -stood before her. Bewildered, hesitating, she smiled back at him, half -fascinated, half terrified. Thereupon he lifted a heavy tress of her -black hair, which had fallen over her shoulders, and put it to his lips. -Fear gained the upper hand. Again Mila attempted to cry out. The -stranger flashed such a terrible glance at her that her voice failed -her. He put out the lamp, returned to Michel's room, bolted the door, -and replaced the mattress; then, throwing himself on the bed and -concealing his face, he seemed to be sleeping soundly when Michel -returned. All this had happened in less time than it has required to -tell it. -</p> -<p> -But, for the first time in his life, perhaps, the Piccinino could not -compel sleep to deaden the activity of his thoughts. His imagination was -an unbroken steed, with whom he had fought so many battles that he -believed that he had placed a curb in his mouth forever. But the curb -was broken, and that powerful will, exhausted in trivial combats, no -longer sufficed to control fierce instincts too long held in check. He -was between two violent temptations, which appeared to him in the shape -of two women almost equally desirable, and whom the detestable Ninfo had -practically offered to share with him. Michel was the hostage whom he -had in his hands, and for whose ransom he could demand and perhaps -obtain everything. -</p> -<p> -To be sure, he no longer believed in Agatha's passion for the young -artist; but he had seen her utter indifference as to the matter of -money, when it was a question of saving her friends from perils that -threatened them. Was she so disinterested as to think that she ought to -sacrifice something more than her fortune to ransom her protégé? -Probably not; so that the bandit must rely upon his individual powers of -seduction, and he saw in Michel only a means of gaining access to her so -that he might exert those powers. -</p> -<p> -As for the young sister, it seemed to him an easier matter to overcome -so innocent a child, not only because of the more direct affection which -she undoubtedly entertained for her brother, but also because of her -inexperience and the purity of her imagination, which he had tested with -a glance. -</p> -<p> -In respect to youthful charm and mere physical beauty, Mila far -surpassed Agatha; but Agatha was a princess, and the instinct of vanity -was strong in the bastard of Castro-Reale. She was supposed never to -have had a lover, she seemed prudent and strong. She had had twenty -years or more to practise self-defence and to repel the assaults of the -passions she had inspired; for she was at least thirty years old, and in -the fiery climate of Sicily, where plants mature in less time than they -require in France to put forth buds, a girl of ten is almost a woman. -</p> -<p> -It was, therefore, a most glorious conquest to dream about, and for that -reason most intoxicating. But there was also the fear of failure, and -Carmelo thought that in that case he should die of shame and rage. He -had never known pain; it was a word almost devoid of meaning to him -until that moment. He was beginning to discover that one can suffer for -other causes than anger and ennui. As he lay awake, he watched Michel -without his knowledge. He saw him sit down at his table and take his -head in his hands, in an attitude of the most complete discouragement. -</p> -<p> -Michel was profoundly depressed. All his dreams had vanished like smoke. -His situation seemed to him sufficiently elucidated by the conversation -he had had with the bandit as they returned from the villa. To test him, -the Piccinino had repeated Abbé Ninfo's calumnies, pretending to -believe them and generously to take Michel's part. The young painter's -noble and upright heart had rebelled against a suspicion which assailed -the princess's dignity; his denials and his manner of describing his -first interview with her in the ball-room had corresponded so closely -with the way in which the princess herself had represented the facts to -the bandit, that the latter, after a more searching and subtle -examination than that of an inquisitor, had ended by becoming convinced -that there was nothing criminal in the princess's relations with the -artist. -</p> -<p> -Thereupon, seeing that there was a background of unhappiness to Michel's -modesty and loyalty, the Piccinino had concluded that, if the princess -did not love him, he wished that she might, and that he had fallen in -love with her at first sight. He remembered Michel's abrupt and ironical -reply to himself during the ball, and he took a cruel delight in making -him feel that he could not hope to be loved by such a woman. It even -occurred to him to admit that he questioned him only to test the -refinement of his nature, and he ended by repeating word for word what -Agatha had said when she pointed to Michel at the window of the boudoir: -"Look at that young man and tell me if there can possibly be any -wrongful relations between two persons of our respective ages and -conditions." Then he added, pressing Michel's hand as they entered the -city: "My child, I am pleased with you; for any other man, at your age, -would have seized the opportunity to pose as the hero of a mysterious -adventure with that adorable woman. Now I see that you are already a -serious-minded man, and I can say to you in confidence that she has made -an ineffaceable impression on me, and that I shall be like a stone in -the crater of the volcano until I have seen her again." -</p> -<p> -The tone in which the Piccinino proclaimed, so to speak, this -confession, combined with the remembrance of his enraptured face and his -triumphant attitude when he returned to the boudoir with Agatha, alarmed -Michel beyond expression. He had not felt obliged in conscience to tell -him what illusions he had cherished, what he had thought that he could -read in certain glances, still less what had taken place—and he -did not believe that it was altogether a dream—in the grotto of -the naiad. Indeed, he would have considered it his bounden duty to deny -it with all his strength if his rival could have suspected it. But all -his phantoms of pride and happiness took flight before Agatha's cold -words, repeated in a dry, cutting tone by the Piccinino. But one point -remained obscure in his situation. That was the peculiarly warm -affection of the princess for his father and sister. But how could he -attribute the honor of that affection to himself? It was based upon an -ancient political connection or upon gratitude for some service rendered -by Pier-Angelo. Pier-Angelo's son was subjected to the dangers of that -connection at the same time that he shared its benefits. When that debt -of the heart was paid, it was impossible that Michel could arouse any -further interest in the generous patroness of his family. The mysteries -that had fascinated him fell back into the domain of reality, and -instead of the pleasant labor of combating charming illusions, he had -the mortification of feeling that he had combated them unsuccessfully -and the pain of being unable to revive them. -</p> -<p> -"Why should I be jealous of the insolent joy that shone in the eyes of -that bandit?" he said to himself in dire distress. "Have I any business -even to consider the question whether his strange manner caused the -princess pleasurable or painful emotion? What have she and I in common? -What am I to her? Pier-Angelo's son! And he, this bold-faced adventurer, -is her mainstay and her savior. He will soon have a claim upon her -gratitude—perhaps upon her esteem and affection; for it rests only -with him to acquire them. He loves her, and if he is not mad he will find -some way or other to make her love him. But how can I earn any title to -her distinction? Of what consequence are the embryotic products of my -art in comparison with the energetic assistance which she demands? It -seems to me that she looks upon me as a child, since, instead of calling -me to her aid, and entrusting to me some mission of importance to her -interests and her personal safety, she does not even consider me capable -of defending my own life. She considers me so weak or so timid that in -this hour of our common danger she has sought the intervention of a -stranger—an ally more dangerous than useful, it may be. O my God! how -far she is from looking upon me as a man! Why did she not simply say to -me: 'Your father and I are threatened by an enemy. Drop your brushes, -take a dagger; defend your father or avenge me!' Fra Angelo reproached -me for my indifference; but, instead of correcting it, they actually -treat me like a child whom they pity, and whose life they save without -troubling themselves about his heart!" -</p> -<p> -While he abandoned himself to these melancholy reflections, Michelangelo -felt as if his heart were breaking, and finding in front of him the -sprig of cyclamen, which was still living in its Venetian glass, he let -a scalding tear fall upon it. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap30"></a>XXX -<br><br> -THE FALSE MONK -</h4> - -<p> -Mila had been so astonished and alarmed by the appearance of the -Piccinino that she could not possibly sleep. The fact that alarmed her -most was that she no longer heard conversation in the adjoining room, -and that she could not make sure that her brother was there. She was -unwilling to go to bed, and, after a few moments, as her reflections -served only to increase her terror, she rose and opened another door of -her chamber which opened on an outer gallery, or rather a dilapidated -corridor sheltered by an awning, and ending in a staircase which served -as a means of communication between her room and those of the other -occupants of the house. Mila had never opened that door at night, but -this time she went out on the gallery, having fully determined to seek -refuge with her father and to sit in his chamber until daylight. -</p> -<p> -But she had barely taken three steps when a new cause of alarm brought -her to a standstill. A man was leaning against the wall of the gallery -as motionless as a robber on the watch. -</p> -<p> -She was about to fly, when a voice said in a whisper: "Is that you, -Mila?" And as the man walked toward her she recognized Magnani. -</p> -<p> -"Don't be afraid," he said. "I am watching here by order of a person who -is dear to you. Doubtless you know why, as you transmitted her message -to me?" -</p> -<p> -"I know that my brother has been in danger this evening," replied the -girl; "but it seems that you are not the only one whom our dear princess -has stationed beside him to defend him. There is another young man in -his room, whom I do not know." -</p> -<p> -"I know it, Mila; but that young man is the very one who is under -suspicion; and I must stand guard as near as possible to the place where -he is sleeping, until he has left the house." -</p> -<p> -"But you are a long way from him!" exclaimed Mila, in dismay, "and my -brother might be murdered and you not hear it from here." -</p> -<p> -"But what am I to do?" replied Magnani. "I could not get any nearer to -his room. He took pains to lock the door at the foot of the other -staircase. So I am here; and I have my eyes and ears open, I assure -you!" -</p> -<p> -"I will watch, too," said the girl, resolutely, "and you can sit up with -me, Magnani. Come into my room. Even though people should speak ill of -us, if we were seen, even if my father and brother should scold me -severely, it makes no difference to me! I am only afraid of the man who is -locked into Michel's room with him, or alone—for they put a mattress -against my door, and I cannot find out whether Michel is really there. I -am afraid for Michel; I am afraid for myself." -</p> -<p> -And she told how the bandit had entered her room when Michel was -apparently not there to oppose his entrance. -</p> -<p> -Magnani, being unable to explain such an extraordinary occurrence, -accepted Mila's suggestion without hesitation. He entered her room, -leaving the door of the gallery ajar, in order that he might retire -unseen if need were, but all ready to burst in Michel's door at the -slightest alarming noise. -</p> -<p> -When he had listened coolly and cautiously, with his eye and ear glued -to the partition, he said to Mila, beckoning her to the side of the room -farthest from the door, and speaking very low: -</p> -<p> -"Set your mind at rest; they are not so well barricaded that I could not -see Michel sitting at his table, apparently deep in meditation. I could -not make out the other one, but I promise you that they cannot make a -movement which I shall not hear, and that their bolt will not hold a -second against my fist. I am armed; so don't be afraid any more, my dear -Mila." -</p> -<p> -"No, no, I am not afraid," she said. "Since you have been here, I have -recovered the use of my mind. Before you came, I was like a madwoman; I -neither saw nor heard anything except through a veil. Have you had no -accident, run no risk yourself to-night, Magnani?" -</p> -<p> -"None at all; but what are you looking for, Mila? You will make a noise -fumbling in that drawer." -</p> -<p> -"No, no," she said. "I am getting a weapon too, for I feel as brave as a -lion with you." -</p> -<p> -And she held up an ebony spindle, carved and mounted in silver, the -stout, sharp point of which might at need serve the purpose of a -stiletto. -</p> -<p> -"When our dear princess gave me this to-day," she said, "she had no -suspicion that I might perhaps use it to defend my brother. But tell me, -Magnani, how did the princess receive you, and how did she explain these -mysteries which are happening all about us, and which I do not -understand at all? We can safely talk here in this doorway; no one will -hear us and it will help to make the time seem shorter and less dull." -</p> -<p> -She sat down on the step outside the door that opened on the gallery. -Magnani sat beside her, ready to fly if any inquisitive individual -should approach, ready to show himself if Michel's guest made any sign -of hostility. They talked in very low tones, and their whispered words -expired in the open air, nor did either of the two become so engrossed -as to fail to pause and listen intently at the slightest sound. -</p> -<p> -When Magnani had told Mila what little he knew, she lost herself in vain -conjectures as to the identity of that handsome young man, whose -expression was at once sweet and fear-inspiring, who styled himself, -when speaking with her, the friend of the family, and of whom the -princess had said to Magnani: "He is either our savior or our -enemy."—And, when Magnani urged her not to try to fathom a secret -which the princess and her family apparently deemed it necessary to conceal -from her, she replied: "Do not think that I am consumed by silly -childish curiosity! No, I have not that wretched failing. But I have -been afraid all day long, and yet I am not timid, either. Something -incomprehensible is going on about me, and I, too, believe that I am -threatened by enemies whom I do not know. I do not dare to mention the -subject to my father or to the princess; I am afraid that if they -undertake to look out for me, too, they will neglect a part of the -precautions demanded by their own safety. But I must think about -defending myself; to-morrow, when you go to your work and my father and -brother have gone out, I shall begin to tremble again for them, for you -and for my self." -</p> -<p> -"I shall not go to work to-morrow, Mila," said Magnani. "The princess -ordered me not to leave your brother, whether he remains at home or goes -out. She did not mention you, which fact makes me almost certain that -you are not included in the secret persecution at which she has taken -fright. But, whatever happens, I shall not stir from here, without -having made sure that no one can come and frighten you." -</p> -<p> -"Listen," she said, "I am going to tell you what happened to me to-day. -You know that we often have in our yard some of those begging brothers, -who annoy everybody, even the poor people, and whom you cannot get rid -of without giving them something. Well, one of them came just after -Michel and my father had left the house, and I never saw a monk so -persistent, and so bold, and so inquisitive. Just fancy that, when he -saw me working at my window, he took up his station just below it, and -there he stood, staring at me with a gaze that embarrassed me, although -I tried not to meet his eyes. I tossed him some bread in order to get -rid of him. He didn't condescend to pick it up. 'Young woman,' he said, -'that is not the way people give alms to a brother of my order. They -take the trouble to go downstairs to him and to commend themselves to -his prayers, instead of tossing him a crust as if he were a dog. You are -not a pious maid, and your parents have brought you up badly. I am sure -that you are not a native?' -</p> -<p> -"I made the mistake of answering him. He had put me in a bad humor with -his sermon, and he was so ugly, so dirty, so insolent, that I could not -help exhibiting my disgust. It seemed to me that I recognized him as a -man I had seen in the morning at the Palmarosa palace. My brother was -disturbed by his face at that time, and questioned my uncle Fra Angelo -about him. He sent us away in haste, promising to find out who he was, -for he did not recognize him as a Capuchin, and my father said that he -resembled a certain Abbé Ninfo, who bears us a grudge, apparently. -However, either it was not the same man, or else he had changed his -disguise; for he wore the costume of a bare-footed Carmelite when he -came here; and, instead of a thick, curly black beard, he had a red -beard, as short and stiff as a wild boar's hair. He was even more -horrible in that dress, and if it was not the same man, why, I can -safely say that I have seen to-day the two most repulsive monks in -Valdemona." -</p> -<p> -"And you were imprudent enough to talk with him?" said Magnani. -</p> -<p> -"Talk is not the word; I requested him to carry his preaching somewhere -else, saying that I had no time to go down to him or to listen to his -reprimands; that, if he did not consider my alms worthy of his -acceptance, he could give it to the first poor person he met, and that, -if he was born proud, he had made a great mistake in becoming a -mendicant." -</p> -<p> -"Doubtless he was irritated by your replies?" -</p> -<p> -"No, for if I had seen that he was mortified or angry, charity or -prudence would have kept me from saying so much. But, instead of -continuing to scold me, he began to smile; a ghastly sort of smile, to -be sure, but not resentful. -</p> -<p> -"'You are an amusing child,' he said, 'and I forgive your lack of -propriety because of your wit and your black eyes.' -</p> -<p> -"I ask you if it was not very wicked for a monk to pay any attention to -the color of my eyes? I told him that he might stay a year under my -window before I would look to see what color his were. He called me a -flirt; a strange word, isn't it, in the mouth of a man who ought not -even to know that there is such a word? I closed my window, but when I -opened it a quarter of an hour later, being unable to endure the -stifling heat in my room when the sun is high, he was still looking at -me. I refused to talk to him any more. He told me that he would stay -there until I gave him something better than bread; that he knew that I -wasn't a poor girl; that I had a beautiful pin of chased gold in my -hair, and that he would gladly accept that, unless I preferred to give -him a lock of hair in its place. And he followed that up with such -absurd and extravagant compliments that I believed and still believe he -was laughing at me, and that it was his spiteful and unseemly way of -venting his anger. -</p> -<p> -"As there were people in the house, particularly your father and one of -your brothers, whom I could see working in their rooms within reach of -my voice, I was not alarmed by that wretched monk's strange remarks and -impertinent glances; I answered only by making fun of him, and, to get -rid of him, I promised to give him something on condition that he would -go away at once. He declared that he had the right to accept or refuse -my offering, and that, if I would let him choose, he would be very -modest and would not ruin me.—'What do you want,' I said, 'a skein -of silk to mend your ragged frock?'—'No,' he replied, 'it's too -badly spun.'—'Do you want my scissors to cut your beard, which is -growing all awry?'—'No, for I might perhaps use it to cut off the -rosy tip of that impertinent little tongue.'—'A needle, then, to -sew up your mouth, which doesn't know what it says?'—'No, for I am -afraid that your needle has no sharper point than your epigrams.' -</p> -<p> -"We jested thus for some time; although he annoyed me, he made me laugh; -for it seemed to me that his manner had become more fatherly than -threatening, that he was really a monk, one of those persistent jokers -such as we all know, who obtain by teasing what they cannot extort by -prayer; and lastly, I discovered that he was very bright, and I did not -put a stop to that childish badinage so soon as I should have done. I -took from the wall a little mirror about the size of my hand, of no -value, which he had noticed hanging by my window, as to which he asked -me how many hours a day I passed consulting it. I lowered it to him by a -silk thread, saying that he would certainly enjoy looking at himself in -it much more than I had enjoyed having his face before my eyes so long. -</p> -<p> -"He seized it eagerly and kissed it, exclaiming in a tone which -frightened me: 'Has it retained a reflection of your beauty, O dangerous -maiden? Just a reflection! that is very little, but if I could fix it -there, I would never take my lips from it.' -</p> -<p> -"'Fie!' I said, drawing back from the window, 'those words dishonor the -frock you wear, and such jesting does not befit a monk.' -</p> -<p> -"I closed my window again and came to this door where we are now, and -opened it so that I could breathe while I worked. But I had not been -there five minutes when I saw the Capuchin before me. He had presumed to -enter the house, I don't know how; for I had locked the outer door, and -he must either have been prowling around in the adjoining house, or have -known all the ins and outs of this one.—'Go away,' I said to him; 'no -one has a right to enter a house in this way, and if you come near my -door, I will call my father and brother, who are in the next room.' -</p> -<p> -"'I know perfectly well that they are not there,' he replied, with a -hateful laugh, 'and as for the neighbors, it would do no good to call -them, for I should be far away before they could get here. What makes -you afraid of me, young woman? I only wanted to have a nearer view of -your soft eyes and your red lips; Raphael's Madonna is a mere -maid-servant compared with you. Come, don't be afraid of me'—and, -as he spoke, he held the door open, which I tried to shut in his -face.—'I would give my life for a kiss from you; but if you refuse -me that, give me at least the rose that perfumes your breast; I shall -die of joy dreaming that ——' -</p> -<p> -"I heard no more, for he had let the door go and tried to seize me in -his arms. In spite of my terror, I had more presence of mind than he -expected; for I stepped quickly to one side, slammed the door in his -face, and as he was a little bewildered by the blow, I took advantage of -it to run through Michel's room. I ran downstairs at the top of my -speed, and didn't stop until I was in the street, for there was no -neighbor near enough to depend upon. When I was among the people in the -street, I was no longer afraid of the monk, but I wouldn't have come -back to my room for anything on earth. I walked to Villa Palmarosa, and -didn't feel entirely at ease until the princess had taken me into her -room. I passed the rest of the day there, and did not come home until -father was ready. But I dared not say anything about what had happened, -for the reason I have given you—and if I must be entirely frank, -because I felt that I had been imprudent to joke with that wretched -begging monk, and that I deserved some blame for it. A rebuke from my -father would almost kill me; but from Princess Agatha—why, I would -rather be damned at once and forever!'" -</p> -<p> -"Dear child, as you are so afraid of reproaches, I will keep your -secret," said Magnani, "and I will not venture to make the slightest -comment." -</p> -<p> -"On the contrary, I beg you to comment as severely as you please, -Magnani. It will not humiliate me from you. I am not presumptuous enough -to think that you like me, and I know that my childish faults will not -cause you the slightest distress. It is because I know how dearly my -father and Princess Agatha love me that I dread so to grieve them. But -you can say whatever you please to me, for you will simply laugh at my -foolishness." -</p> -<p> -"So you think me very indifferent, do you?" said Magnani, upon whom this -story of the monk had had a singularly disquieting and disturbing -effect. -</p> -<p> -Then, surprised at the question that had escaped him, he rose and went -on tiptoe to listen at Michel's door. He thought that he could hear the -regular breathing of a sleeping person. The Piccinino had in fact -succeeded finally in allaying the tumult of his thoughts, and Michel, -overcome by weariness, was dozing in his chair, with his head resting on -his hands. -</p> -<p> -Magnani returned to Mila; but he dared not sit beside her again. "And I -too," he thought, ashamed, and as it were, afraid of himself, "I am a -monk consumed by my imagination and excited by enforced continence. This -child is too lovely, too pure, too trustful, to live thus the -untrammelled neglected life of girls of our station; no one can look at -her without emotion, whether he be a monk doomed to celibacy or a man -hopelessly in love with another woman. I would like to have my hands on -that vile monk and break his neck; and yet I too quiver at the thought -that this unsuspecting maiden is in this room, alone with me, in the -silence of night, ready to seek shelter in my arms at the slightest -alarm!" -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap31"></a>XXXI -<br><br> -WITCHCRAFT -</h4> - -<p> -Magnani tried to divert his thoughts by talking of the princess with -Mila. The innocent girl lured him into it, and he accepted that subject -of conversation as a preservative. It will be seen that a strange -revolution had taken place in two days in the young man's mental -condition, since he had already reached the point of looking upon his -love for Agatha as a duty, or as what the doctors call a depurative. -</p> -<p> -If he had been certain that the princess loved Michel, of which fact he -was persuaded at times, with a feeling of utter stupefaction, he would -have been almost entirely cured of his own mad passion. For he had given -it so exalted a place in his thoughts that, as he had lost hope, so he -had almost reached the point where he desired nothing. His passion had -become a sort of pious habit, so ideal that it no longer touched the -earth, and that by returning it, Agatha might have destroyed it -instantly. Assume that she loved any man on earth, even the man who -cherished so exalted an adoration for her, and she became in his eyes -simply a woman, whose influence he could combat. That was the result of -five years' suffering without the slightest presumption, and without a -moment's intermission. In a heart of such strength and purity, the -utmost order had prevailed amid the effervescence of a passion which -resembled a beginning of madness; and it was precisely that circumstance -which might be Magnani's salvation. Efforts to deaden his pain would -have served only to excite him more, and after indulging in vulgar -pleasures, he would have returned to his chimera with more suffering and -more weakness; whereas by abandoning himself without resistance, without -desire for repose, and without terror, to a martyrdom which might be -everlasting, he had allowed the flame to become concentrated in one -spot, where it burned dully, not fanned from without, and deprived of -any fresh sustenance. -</p> -<p> -Thus Magnani had reached that critical moment when a man must be cured -or die, without any transition. He did not appreciate it, but it -certainly was a fact, for his senses were awaking from a long period of -numbness, and Agatha, far from contributing to the awakening, was the -only woman to whom he would have blushed to attribute in his thoughts -the perturbation that he felt. -</p> -<p> -Little by little, he leaned toward the girl in order not to lose a -single one of her words, and he ended by sitting down beside her, and -asking her why it had occurred to her to talk of him with Princess -Agatha. -</p> -<p> -"Why, it is very simple," replied Mila; "she led me to do it by asking -me which of the young mechanics of my acquaintance Michel had been most -intimate with since he had arrived in the island; and as I hesitated -between you and one or two of father's apprentices who assisted Michel, -and whom he seemed to like, the princess herself said: -</p> -<p> -"'Perhaps you are not sure, Mila, but I would be willing to wager that -it is a certain Magnani, who works for me, and of whom I think very -highly. During the ball they sat in my garden together, and I was very -near them—just behind the myrtle bush. I had gone there to rest, and -was almost in hiding, in order to escape for an instant the torture of -such a long performance. I overheard their conversation, which -interested and touched me to the last degree. Your brother has a noble -mind, Mila, but your neighbor Magnani has a great heart. They talked of -art and work, of ambition and duty, of happiness and virtue. I admired -the artist's ideas, but I fell in love with the artisan's sentiments. -For your young brother's sake, I hope that Magnani will always be his -best friend, the confidant of all his thoughts, and his adviser in the -delicate emergencies of his life. You can advise him to that effect from -me, if he happens to mention me to you; and if you tell either of them -that I listened to the sincere outpouring of their thoughts, you will -not fail to tell them also that I was a discreet listener, for there -came a time when Magnani seemed on the point of disclosing to -Michelangelo some personal matter which I did not choose to overhear. I -retired hastily at the first word,'—Is all that accurate, Magnani? Do -you remember the subject of your conversation with Michel in the garden -of the Casino?" -</p> -<p> -"Yes, yes," sighed Magnani, "it is all true; indeed, I noticed when the -princess retired, although it would never have occurred to me that it -was she who was listening to us." -</p> -<p> -"At all events, you ought to be proud of it, Magnani, and very glad of -it, since what you said made her feel so much friendship and esteem for -you. I even thought that I could see that she preferred your way of -thinking to my brother's, and that she looked upon you as the wiser and -better of the two, although she says that she has felt the same motherly -interest in the welfare of both of you from that moment. Couldn't you -repeat to me all the beautiful words which the princess so enjoyed -hearing? I should be very glad to have the benefit of them, for I am a -poor little girl, with whom Michel himself hardly deigns to talk -seriously." -</p> -<p> -"My dear Mila," said Magnani, taking her hand, "honor to the man whom -you consider worthy to form your heart and your mind! But, even if I -could remember all that Michel and I said to each other in that garden, -I should not presume to think that it would benefit you in any way. -Aren't you better than either of us? And as for wit, which of us can -have more than you?" -</p> -<p> -"Oh! now you are laughing at me! Princess Agatha has more than all three -of us together, nor do I think that even my father has any more than she -has. Ah! if you knew her as well as I do, Magnani! Such a head and -heart! such charm! such kindness! I could pass my whole life listening -to her; and, if my father and she would allow it, I would like to be her -servant, although obedience is not my leading characteristic." -</p> -<p> -Magnani was silent for a few moments. He could not succeed in -disentangling his thoughts in his excitement. Hitherto Agatha had seemed -to him so far above all praise that he was indignant and hurt when -anyone ventured to say that she was lovely, charitable and sweet. He -preferred to listen to those who said that she was ugly and mad, when -they did not know her and had never seen her. They at all events said -nothing about her in which there was the slightest sense, whereas the -others praised her too feebly, and annoyed Magnani beyond words by their -inability to comprehend her. But on Mila's lips Agatha lost nothing of -the idea he had formed of her. Only Mila seemed to him pure enough to -utter her name without profaning it, and because she shared his -adoration, she was almost equal to his idol in his eyes. -</p> -<p> -"Dear Mila," he said at last, still holding her hand, which he had -forgotten to give back to her, "to love and to understand as you do -indicates a great mind. But what did you say about me to the princess? -Ought I not to ask you?" -</p> -<p> -Mila blessed the darkness, which concealed her blushes, and she grew -bolder as a timid woman gradually becomes intoxicated by the assured -impunity of a masquerade. -</p> -<p> -"I am really afraid that it will be indiscreet in me to repeat it to -you," she said, "and I should not dare to do it!" -</p> -<p> -"So you said unkind things about me, did you, naughty Mila?" -</p> -<p> -"No; for Princess Agatha had said so much good of you that it would have -been impossible for me to think any evil of you. I cannot look at -anything except through her eyes. But I let out something which Michel -told me in confidence." -</p> -<p> -"Really? I don't know what you mean." -</p> -<p> -Mila noticed that Magnani's hand trembled. She ventured to strike a -decisive blow. -</p> -<p> -"Well," she said, in an artless, almost indifferent tone, "I told the -princess that you were really very kind, very pleasant and very learned; -but that one had either to know you very well, or else guess at you in -order to find it out!" -</p> -<p> -"Because ——?" -</p> -<p> -"Because you were in love, and that made you so melancholy that you -lived almost entirely alone, buried in meditation." -</p> -<p> -Magnani trembled. -</p> -<p> -"It was Michel who told you that!" he said, in a changed tone that made -Mila's heart bleed. "And doubtless he betrayed my confidence to the -end," he added; "he told you the name——" -</p> -<p> -"Oh! Michel is incapable of betraying anybody's confidence," she -replied, struggling to maintain her courage at the level of the crisis -she had provoked; "and I, Magnani, am incapable of leading my brother on -to such a base thing. Besides, why should I be at all interested, I -should like to know?" -</p> -<p> -"Of course, it must be a matter of entire indifference to you," replied -Magnani, completely crushed. -</p> -<p> -"Indifference is not the word," she said; "I have much esteem and -friendship for you, Magnani, and I pray for your happiness. But I am -interested in my own happiness, too, so that I have no time to be idle -and pry into other people's secrets." -</p> -<p> -"Your happiness! At your age, Mila, happiness is love; so you are in -love, too, are you?" -</p> -<p> -"In love? why not? Do you consider me too young to think about such -things?" -</p> -<p> -"Ah! my dear child, you are at the age when one should think about such -things, for at my age love is despair." -</p> -<p> -"Why, is your love not returned? I was not mistaken in thinking that you -are unhappy?" -</p> -<p> -"No, my love is not returned," he replied, dejectedly, "and never will -be; I have never even dreamed that it would." -</p> -<p> -A more romantic and more experienced woman than Mila might have looked -upon that admission as a definitive obstacle to all hope; but her ideas -of life were more simple and more logical: "If he has no hope, he will -recover," she thought. -</p> -<p> -"I pity you deeply," she said to Magnani, "for it is such great -happiness to feel that one is loved, and it must be so ghastly to love -all by oneself!" -</p> -<p> -"You will never know such a misfortune," Magnani replied; "and the man -you love should be the most grateful and the proudest of men!" -</p> -<p> -"I am satisfied with him," she said, gratified to feel that jealousy was -beginning to make itself felt in the young man's perturbed heart; "but -listen, Magnani! there is a noise in my brother's room." -</p> -<p> -Magnani ran to the other door; but, while he was making vain efforts to -distinguish the nature of the noises Mila had heard, she heard other -noises in the yard. She looked through the blind, and, beckoning to -Magnani, pointed out to him Michel's mysterious guest, who was gliding -toward the street so lightly and adroitly, that unless one had a -delicate ear and keen eye and was on the alert, expecting to see him, it -would have been impossible to detect his movements. -</p> -<p> -Even Michel had not been roused from the light doze into which he had -fallen. -</p> -<p> -Mila was still very ill at ease, although Magnani urged her to take some -rest, promising that he would remain in the yard or in the gallery, and -that Michel should not leave the house without him. As soon as Magnani -had left her, she fell upon a chair and drew her table noisily along the -floor, so that she might hear Michel wake and move about in his turn. -</p> -<p> -The young man soon entered her room, after noticing with amazement that -the Piccinino's light body had left little more impression on his bed -than if he had been a spectre. He found little Mila still up, and -reproved her for her wilful sleeplessness. But she explained her reasons -for anxiety; and, without mentioning Magnani, for the princess had -enjoined upon her not to let Michel know of his presence, she told him -of the Piccinino's strange and impudent visit to her room. She also told -him something of her experience with the monk, and made him promise that -he would not leave her during the morning, and that, if he were summoned -by the princess later in the day, he would not go out without letting -her know, because she was determined to seek shelter with some friend -and not remain alone in the house. -</p> -<p> -Michel readily agreed. He was utterly unable to understand the bandit's -conduct on that occasion. But we can imagine that such an audacious -performance, taken in connection with the impertinence of the pretended -monk, left him in a decidedly uncomfortable frame of mind. -</p> -<p> -When he returned to his chamber, after barricading the door of the -gallery with his own hands in order to protect his sister against any -fresh attack, he looked about for the cyclamen upon which he had gazed -so sorrowfully as he sat beside his table. But the cyclamen had -disappeared. The Piccinino had noticed that the princess, as on the -evening of the ball, had a bouquet of cyclamen in her hand or close at -hand, and that she seemed to have contracted the habit of playing with -that bouquet even more than with her fan, the inseparable companion of -all the women of the South. He had also noticed that Michel treasured -one of those flowers, and that he had drawn it toward his face several -times, then hastily pushed it away, during the first agitated moments of -his vigil. He had divined the mysterious charm attached to that plant, -and before leaving the room he had maliciously taken it from the glass -upon which Michel's inert hand still rested. He threw the little flower -into the sheath of his dagger, saying to himself: "If I stab anyone -to-day, perhaps this memento of the lady of my thoughts will remain in -the wound." -</p> -<p> -Michel tried to follow the Piccinino's example, that is to say, to -recover his lucidity of thought by enjoying an hour or two of real -sleep. He had insisted that Mila should go to bed, and, in order to make -surer that she was adequately guarded, he left the door open between -their rooms. He slept heavily, as young men of his age do, but his sleep -was disturbed by confused and distressing dreams, an inevitable -consequence of his present position. When he woke, shortly after -daylight, he tried to collect his thoughts, and first of all he looked -to see if he had not dreamed of the abstraction of the precious -cyclamen. -</p> -<p> -His surprise was unbounded when he saw that the glass, empty when he -fell asleep, was filled with freshly gathered cyclamens. -</p> -<p> -"Mila," he said, seeing that his sister was already up and dressed, "you -have cheerful and poetic ideas, I see, despite our anxieties and -dangers. These flowers are almost as lovely as you; but they can never -replace the one I have lost." -</p> -<p> -"You imagined," she said, "that I had taken it or tipped over the glass -after your extraordinary friend went away; you almost scolded me, and -you refused to remember that I had never so much as thought of putting -my foot inside your <i>mysterious</i> chamber! Now, you accuse me of -replacing it with others, which is no less absurd; for where could I -have got them? Am I not barricaded on the gallery side? Haven't you my -key under your pillow? Unless, indeed, these pretty little flowers grow -on my pillow, which is possible—in a dream." -</p> -<p> -"Mila, you persist in jesting on all subjects and at all seasons. You -may have had this bouquet last night. Weren't you at Villa Palmarosa in -the afternoon?" -</p> -<p> -"For heaven's sake, don't these flowers grow anywhere but in Princess -Agatha's boudoir? I understand now why you are so fond of them. Where, -pray, did you pick the one that you looked for so long this morning, -instead of going straight to bed?" -</p> -<p> -"I picked it in my hair, little one, and I believe that my brains left -my head with it." -</p> -<p> -"Ah! very good; now I understand why you talk nonsense." -</p> -<p> -Michel could find out nothing more. Mila was as calm and smiling when -she woke as she had been disturbed and fearful when she fell asleep. He -obtained nothing from her but quips of the sort in which she was -proficient, always possessed of some metaphorical meaning, and instinct -with a sort of childish charm. -</p> -<p> -She asked him for the key of her room, and while he was dressing, lost -in thought, she attended to her household duties with her usual activity -and lightness of heart. She flew about the corridors and stairways, -singing like the morning lark. Michel, as melancholy as the winter sun -on the ice-fields at the pole, heard the floors creaking under her agile -feet, heard her merry laugh as she received her father's kiss on the -floor below, heard her ascend the stairs to her room, like a well-aimed -arrow, then go down again to the fountain to fill the graceful earthen -jugs, which are made at Siacca, after Moorish models, and are commonly -used by the people of those regions; heard her salute the neighbors with -kindly pleasantries, and play with the half naked children who were -already beginning to roll about on the flagstones in the yard. -</p> -<p> -Pier-Angelo was also dressing, more rapidly and in more cheerful mood -than Michel. Like Mila, he sang, but in a deeper and more martial voice, -as he shook his brown, red-lined jacket. He was interrupted at times by -a lingering remnant of drowsiness, and yawned over the words of his -ballads, then finished the refrain triumphantly. That was his way of -waking, and he never sang better, in his own ears, than when his voice -failed him. -</p> -<p> -"Happy heedlessness of truly popular natures!" said Michel to himself, -as he leaned on his window-sill, half-dressed. "One would say that -nothing unusual was taking place in my family, that we were not -surrounded by enemies and snares; that my sister slept as usual last -night, that she knows nothing of love without hope, of the danger of -being beautiful and poor in view of the schemes of vicious minds, and of -the other danger that she may be deprived at any moment of her natural -protectors. My father, who must know everything, acts as if he suspected -nothing. In this wretched climate everything is forgotten or takes on an -entirely different aspect in the twinkling of an eye. The volcano, -tyranny, persecution—nothing interrupts the songs and laughter. At -noon, overwhelmed by the heat, they all sleep and seem like corpses. The -cool evening air revives them like vigorous plants. Terror and rashness, -grief and joy, succeed one another with them like the waves on the -shore. Let one of the chords of the heart be relaxed, and twenty others -wake to new life, just as the taking of a flower from a glass of water -causes a whole bouquet to appear there! I alone, amid these -incomprehensible transformations, am always on the alert, but always -serious; my thoughts are always lucid, but always gloomy. Ah! would that -I had remained the child of my caste and the man of my native land!" -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap32"></a>XXXII -<br><br> -THE ESCALADE -</h4> - -<p> -The group of houses of which Michel's formed a part was shabby and ugly -in reality, but exceedingly picturesque. Built upon blocks of lava, and -in part constructed of the same lava, those rough structures bore traces -of the last earthquakes which had overturned them. The lower floors, -which were bolted to the solid rock, retained an unmistakable flavor of -antiquity; and the upper portions, erected in haste after the disaster, -or already shaken by later shocks, even now had a decrepit look: huge -cracks, roofs with a threatening pitch, and dangerous staircases, the -rails of which were all awry. Wild vines inextricably tangled about the -ragged protuberances of cornices and awnings, prickly aloes, crushing by -their weight the old terra-cotta urns, and encroaching with their rough -branches upon the little terraces which hovered in the most insane way -upon the highest points of those tumble-down buildings; white linen, or -garments of gaudy hue hanging from all the windows, or flying about like -banners on lines stretched from house to house: all this formed a -strange, bold picture. One could see children playing and women working -almost among the clouds, on narrow platforms surrounded by pigeons and -swallows, and barely protected, away up there in space, by a few black, -worm-eaten rails, which it seemed that the first gust of wind would blow -away. The slightest change of level in that volcanic soil, the slightest -convulsion in that gorgeous but ill-omened landscape, and the torpid or -reckless occupants of those houses would be engulfed in a raging hell, -or swept away as the leaves are by the tempest. -</p> -<p> -But danger acts upon men's minds in proportion to its distance. In the -midst of actual security, the idea of a catastrophe presents itself -under terror-inspiring colors. When one is born, breathes and lives in -the midst of actual danger, under a never-ceasing threat, the -imagination becomes deadened, fear loses its keen edge, and there ensues -a strange repose of mind which resembles torpor rather than courage. -</p> -<p> -Although the picture we have described possessed a genuine poetic charm, -in its very shabbiness and its disorder, Michel had not yet detected it. -He had passed his childhood at Rome, in houses more solidly constructed -at all events and of a neater aspect, if not more sumptuous, and his -thoughts always aspired to the splendor of palaces. His father's abode, -that hovel in which Pier-Angelo had lived ever since his childhood, and -to which he had returned with so much love in his heart, seemed to young -Michel nothing more than a pestiferous den which he would have been glad -to see return to the lava from which it had come forth. In vain did -Mila, in marked contrast to her neighbors, keep their little quarters -almost fastidiously neat and clean. In vain was their staircase -embellished with the loveliest flowers. In vain did the bright morning -sun draw broad lines of gold athwart the shadows of the black lava and -upon the heavy arches of the recessed portions of the building. Michel -thought of nothing but the grotto of the naiad, the marble fountains of -the Palmarosa palace, and the porch where Agatha had appeared to him -like a goddess in the doorway of her temple. -</p> -<p> -At last, after bestowing one regretful thought upon his recent chimera, -he was ashamed of his dejection. "I came to this country, when my father -hadn't sent for me," he said to himself, "and my uncle the monk -convinced me that I must submit to the drawbacks of my position and -accept its duties. I subjected myself to a most severe test when I -turned my back upon Rome and the hope of glory to become an obscure -workingman in Sicily. The test would have been too mild and too short -if, at the outset, being loved or admired at first sight by a great and -noble lady, I had had only to stoop and pick up laurel crowns and -piastres. Instead of that, I must be a good son and a good brother, and, -moreover, a stout-hearted man, to defend at need the honor of my family. -I am well assured that the signora's esteem and my own, perhaps, can be -had only at that price. Very well, I will accept my destiny cheerfully, -and learn to endure without regret what my nearest and dearest endure so -courageously. I will be a man in advance of my years, and lay aside the -overpetted personality of my youth. If I have anything to blush for, it -is for having been a spoiled child so long, and for having failed to see -that it would soon be my duty to assist and protect those who devoted -themselves to me so unselfishly." -</p> -<p> -This determination restored peace to his heart. His father's songs and -little Mila's seemed to him the sweetest of melodies. -</p> -<p> -"Yes, yes," he said to himself, "sing on, happy birds of the South, pure -as the sky that looked down upon your birth! This merriment is the -indication of a perfectly clear conscience, and laughter well befits -you, who have never had an idea of evil! Ah! my old father's dear old -ballads, which have allayed the anxieties of his life and lessened the -fatigue of his labor—I should listen to them with respect instead of -smiling at their simplicity! And my young sister's merry laughter I -should welcome with affectionate delight as a proof of her courage and -her innocence! Away with my selfish dreams and my unfeeling curiosity! I -will go through the storm with you, and will enjoy as you do a burst of -sunlight between two clouds. My careworn brow is an insult to your -candor—black ingratitude for your kindness. I propose to be your -staff in distress, your comrade in toil, and your boon companion in joy! -</p> -<p> -"Sweet and melancholy flowers," he added, stooping fondly over the -bouquet of cyclamen, "whatever hand plucked you, whatever the sentiment -of which you are a pledge, my breath, aflame with evil desires, shall -sully you no more. If I sometimes lay bare my heart, as you do, I pray -that it may be as pure as your calices; and if it bleeds, as you seem to -bleed, I pray that virtue may exhale from its wounds, even as fragrance -exhales from your bosom." -</p> -<p> -Immediately after forming these excellent resolutions, made more -seductive by this vein of poetic imagery, young Michel completed his -toilet without further dallying, and made haste to join his father, who -was already at work mixing colors to <i>patch</i> the paint at Villa -Palmarosa in many places where it had been marred by the chandeliers and -decorations of the ball. -</p> -<p> -"Here," said the goodman, handing him a large purse of Tunisian silk, -filled with gold pieces; "here is the pay for your beautiful ceiling." -</p> -<p> -"It is too much by half," said Michel, examining the beautifully -embroidered and shaded purse with much more interest than its contents. -"Our debt to the princess is not yet discharged, and I propose that it -shall be this very day." -</p> -<p> -"It is, my child." -</p> -<p> -"Then it must have been paid out of your wages, not out of mine. For if -I know how to estimate the contents of a purse, there is more here than -I propose to accept. Father, I do not propose that you shall work for -me. No, I swear by your gray hairs that you shall never work for your -son again, for it is his turn to work for you. Nor do I intend to accept -alms from Princess Agatha; I have had enough of such patronage and -generosity." -</p> -<p> -"You know me well enough," replied Pier-Angelo, with a smile, "to -believe that, far from interfering with your pride and your dutiful -sentiments, I shall always encourage them. Take my advice, therefore, -and accept this money. It is honestly yours; it costs me nothing, and -the person who gives it to you is at liberty to place what estimate she -pleases on the merits of your work. That is the difference that there -will always be between you and your father, Michel. An artist has no -fixed price. A single day of inspiration may make him rich. Whereas, a -deal of hard work is not enough to raise us mechanics out of the slough -of poverty. But God, in His mercy, has given us compensations. The -artist conceives and brings forth his works with much pain. The mechanic -performs his task with laughter and a song. I am so accustomed to that, -that I wouldn't exchange my trade for yours." -</p> -<p> -"Let me at least derive from mine such pleasure as it is capable of -affording me," said Michel. "Take this purse, father, and let nothing -ever be taken from it for my use. It is my sister's marriage portion; it -is the interest on the money she lent me when I was at Rome; and if I -never earn enough to make her richer, let her at least have the benefit -of my day of success. O father!" he cried, seeing that Pier-Angelo was -unwilling to accept his sacrifice, "do not refuse me; you will break my -heart! Your blind affection has almost corrupted my nature. Help me to -cease to be the selfish creature that you would have made me. Encourage -my good impulses, instead of robbing me of their fruit. It comes only -too late." -</p> -<p> -"True, my boy, I ought to do it," said Pier-Angelo, deeply touched; "but -consider that this is no mere commonplace sacrifice of money that you -propose to make. If it were simply a matter of depriving yourself of -some little pleasure, it would be of little consequence, and I should -not hesitate. But your artistic future, the cultivation of your -intellect, the very essence of your life, are contained in this little -silk net! It means a year of study in Rome! And who knows when you will -be able to earn as much more? Perhaps the princess won't give any more -balls. The other nobles are neither so rich nor so generous as she. Such -opportunities are not often met with, and are very likely not to happen -twice in a lifetime. I am growing old; I may fall from my ladder -to-morrow and cripple myself; then how would you resume the life of an -artist? Aren't you at all alarmed at the idea that, for the pleasure of -giving your sister a marriage portion, you run the risk of becoming a -mechanic again, and remaining a mechanic all your life?" -</p> -<p> -"So be it!" exclaimed Michel; "that no longer frightens me, father. I -have reflected. It seems to me that there is as much honor and pleasure -in being a mechanic as in being rich and proud. I love Sicily! Is it not -my native land? I do not propose to leave my sister again. She needs a -protector until she is married, and I propose that she shall be able to -make her choice deliberately. You are old, you say! you may be crippled -to-morrow! Well then! who would take care of you, pray,—who would -support you, who would comfort you,—if I were away? Would it be -possible for my sister to do it when she has a family of her own? A -son-in-law? but why should I leave it for another to fulfill my duties? -Why should he steal my honor and my glory? for this is wherein I choose -to establish them henceforth, and my chimeras have given place to -reality. Tell me, father, am not I, too, in a cheerful mood this -morning? Would you like me to sing a second to the old ballad you were -singing just now? Do I seem to you to have the despairing look of a man -who is sacrificing himself? Do you not love me, I pray to know, that you -refuse to be my employer?" -</p> -<p> -"Very well!" replied Pier-Angelo, gazing at him with glistening eyes, -and with a trembling of the hands that indicated extraordinary emotion. -"You are a man of heart! and I shall never regret what I have done for -you!" -</p> -<p> -As he spoke, Pier-Angelo removed his cap, uncovering his bald head, and -stood erect in the attitude, at once proud and respectful, of an old -soldier before his young officer. It was the first time in his life that -he had adopted the more formal mode of address with Michel,<a id="FNanchor_7_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_1" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> and that -change, which might have seemed to denote coldness and dissatisfaction -in other fathers, assumed in his mouth a peculiarly affectionate and -majestic meaning. It seemed to the young painter that he had been hailed -as a man by his father at last, and that that form of address—that -uncovered head and those few calm and serious words—rewarded and -honored him more abundantly than the most eloquent academic eulogy. -</p> -<p> -While they worked together, Mila busied herself preparing their -breakfast. She went back and forth from one room to another, but passed -more frequently than was absolutely necessary along the gallery of which -we have spoken. She had a secret reason for this. Magnani's chamber, -which, to tell the truth, was only a wretched garret with a window in -which there was no glass—the warm climate making that luxury -unnecessary for people in good health—was at the corner of the house -nearest to the gallery, and by leaning over the rail one could talk with -a person who happened to be sitting at the window of that modest -apartment. Magnani was not in his room; he only passed the night there, -and at daylight went to his work elsewhere, or worked out-of-doors on -the gallery opposite the one on which Mila often sat at her work. From -there she could watch him without looking at him, for hours at a time, -and not lose a single one of his movements, although she did not seem to -lift her eyes from her work. -</p> -<p> -But on this morning she walked back and forth to no purpose. He was not -on the gallery, although he had promised her, as well as the princess, -not to go away from home. Had he allowed himself to be overcome by -sleep, after two sleepless nights? That was hardly consistent with what -she knew of his stoical determination and of his inexhaustible strength. -Doubtless he was breakfasting with his parents. But Mila, who had -stopped more than once to listen to the tumultuous voices of the Magnani -family, could not distinguish the grave, manly tones which she knew so -well. -</p> -<p> -She looked at the window of his garret. The room was dark and empty as -usual. Magnani had no luxurious habits as Michel had, and he had always -crushed within himself any craving for refinement in his surroundings. -Whereas Pier-Angelo and his daughter, in anticipation of the cardinal's -death and the young painter's arrival, had made ready for that beloved -child a neat, clean, airy attic chamber, furnished with the best that -they could spare from their own furniture, Magnani slept on a rug thrown -on the floor by his window, to make the most of the little air which -could find its way in through that loophole, recessed as it was between -two walls. The only embellishment which he had introduced consisted of a -box which he had placed on the outer edge of that yawning aperture, and -in which he had sown a few pretty convolvuli which formed a frame of -fresh flowers for the window. -</p> -<p> -He watered them every day; but during the last forty-eight hours he had -been so engrossed that he had forgotten them; the pretty white bells had -closed and drooped languidly upon their half-withered leaves. -</p> -<p> -Mila, carrying one of her earthen jugs perched lightly on her head, an -enormous braid of hair thrice twisted acting as a cushion, noticed that -her neighbor's convolvuli were dying of thirst; that would have afforded -a pretext for speaking to him if he had been anywhere about; but there -was nobody in that retired and sheltered corner. Mila tried, by -stretching her arm over the rail, to reach the poor plants and give them -a few drops of water. But her arm was too short, and the jug did not -reach the box. Children cannot bear the impossible, and when they have -undertaken a thing they go on with it at the peril of their lives. How -many times have we climbed upon a window to reach a swallow's nest, and -counted with the tips of our fingers the little warm eggs on their bed -of down! -</p> -<p> -Little Mila spied a stout branch of grapevine which hung along the wall -like a bell-rope and was twisted about the rail of the gallery. To climb -over the rail and cling to the vine did not seem to her very difficult. -In this way she reached the window. But, as she raised her lovely arm to -water the convolvuli, a strong hand seized her slender wrist, and a -brown face, wearing a smile that displayed two rows of large white -teeth, stooped toward hers. -</p> -<p> -Magnani, not wishing to sleep, nor, on the other hand, to seem to be -watching what was taking place in the house, as Agatha had ordered, had -lain down on his rug to rest his weary limbs. But his mind and his eyes -were wide open, and, at every risk, he had seized that stealthy arm -whose shadow passed across his face. -</p> -<p> -"Let me go, Magnani," said the girl, more deeply moved by the meeting -than by the risk she might be incurring; "you will throw me down! this -vine is giving way under me." -</p> -<p> -"Throw you down, my dear child!" replied the young man, passing a -powerful arm about her waist. "Unless this arm is cut off, and then the -other, you shall never fall!" -</p> -<p> -"Never? that is saying a good deal, for I love to climb, and you won't -always be with me." -</p> -<p> -"Happy the man who will be with you always and everywhere, sweet little -Mila! But what are you doing here with the birds?" -</p> -<p> -"I saw from my window that this lovely plant was thirsty. See how its -pretty head droops and how its leaves are falling. I thought that you -were not here, and I was going to give the poor roots something to -drink. Here is the jug. You can bring it back to me by and by. I am -going back to my work." -</p> -<p> -"Already, Mila?" -</p> -<p> -"Especially as I am very uncomfortable perched up here. I have had -enough of it. Let me go, so that I can return the way I came." -</p> -<p> -"No, no, it is too dangerous. The vine is bending, and my arms aren't -long enough to hold you till you reach the gallery. Let me lift you in -here, Mila, and then you can go out through my chamber." -</p> -<p> -"I can't do that, Magnani; the neighbors would say unkind things of me, -if they saw me go into your room either by the window or by the door." -</p> -<p> -"Very well, stay there, hold on tight; I will come out through the -window and help you to go back." -</p> -<p> -But it was too late: the vine suddenly gave way; Mila shrieked, and if -Magnani had not grasped her with both hands and seated her on the edge -of the window, crushing his dear convolvuli a little in the act, she -would have fallen. -</p> -<p> -"Now," he said, "my imprudent young lady, you cannot go out any other -way than through my room. Come in quickly, for I hear steps under the -gallery, and no one has seen you yet." -</p> -<p> -He drew her hastily into his poor room, and she walked to the door as -swiftly as she had come in through the window; but the door was ajar, -and as she looked out she saw that the door of the cobbler's room on the -same landing was wide open, and that the cobbler himself, the most -evil-tongued of all the neighbors, was sitting there, singing over his -work, so that it was impossible to go out without exposing herself to -his unpleasant witticisms. -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="nind"><a id="Footnote_7_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_1"><span class="label">[7]</span></a>That is to say, had called him <i>you</i> instead of <i>thou</i>.</p></div> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap33"></a>XXXIII -<br><br> -THE RING -</h4> - -<p> -"There!" said the girl, closing the door with a touch of vexation, "the -evil spirit has a grudge against me! Just because I took it into my head -to water a poor flower, I am in danger of being torn to pieces by evil -tongues and scolded by my father—and above all by Michel, who is -such a tease with me!" -</p> -<p> -"Dear child," said Magnani, "people would not dare to speak of you as -they speak of others; you are so different from all the other girls in -our suburb! Everybody loves you and respects you as no one of them will -ever be loved and respected. Besides, as it is on my account—or -rather on account of my poor flowers—that you have run this risk, -you need not have the slightest fear. Woe to the man who dares to speak -ill of you!" -</p> -<p> -"All the same, I shall never dare to pass that horrible cobbler." -</p> -<p> -"You are quite right. It is his breakfast time. His wife has called him -twice already. He will go directly. Wait here a few seconds, perhaps a -minute—especially as I should like to say a word to you, Mila." -</p> -<p> -"What have you to say to me, pray?" she replied, taking a chair which he -offered her, and which was the only one in the room. She was trembling -with violent inward excitement, but she affected a careless air which -her position seemed to impose upon her. It was not that she was afraid -of Magnani; she knew him too well to fear that he would take advantage -of the tête-à-tête; but she feared, more than ever before, that he -would guess the secret of her heart. -</p> -<p> -"I don't know just what I have to say to you," rejoined Magnani. "It -seemed to me that it would be for you to say something to me." -</p> -<p> -"I!" cried proud little Mila, rising. "I have nothing to say to you, I -give you my word, Signor Magnani!" -</p> -<p> -And she was about to leave the room, preferring the gossip of the -neighborhood to the danger of being found out by the man she loved, when -Magnani, surprised by her movement, and observing her sudden flush, -began to suspect the truth. -</p> -<p> -"Dear Mila," he said, placing himself in front of the door, "one -moment's patience, I beg you. Do not let people see you, and do not be -angry with me if I detain you a moment. The consequences of a pure -accident may be very serious to a man who is determined to kill or be -killed to defend the honor of a woman." -</p> -<p> -"In that case, do not speak so loud," said Mila, struck by Magnani's -expression; "for that miserable cobbler may overhear us. I know," she -continued, allowing him to lead her back to her chair, "that you are -brave and generous, and that you would do for me what you would do for -your own sister. But I am not anxious that that should happen, for you -are not my brother, and you cannot justify me by fighting my battles. -People would say all the more evil of me, or else we should be compelled -to marry, which would not suit either of us." -</p> -<p> -Magnani gazed into Mila's black eyes, and, seeing how proud they were, -he speedily renounced the presumptuous idea that had caused him both -fear and pleasure as it flashed through his mind. -</p> -<p> -"I understand perfectly well that you do not love me, my dear Mila," he -said with a sad smile. "I am not lovable, and it would be the most -melancholy thing on earth, after being compromised by me, to pass your -life with such an unsociable being." -</p> -<p> -"That is not what I meant to say," replied the crafty maiden. "I have -much esteem and friendship for you; I have no reason for concealing that -fact from you; but I have an inclination for another. That is why I am -so distressed and tremble so at being shut up in this room with you." -</p> -<p> -"If that is so, Mila," said Magnani, bolting his door and closing the -window-shutter so hastily that he nearly consummated the ruin of his -convolvulus, "let us take all necessary precautions to prevent anyone -knowing that you are here. I swear to you that you shall go out without -anybody suspecting it, though I have to put all the neighbors out of the -way by force—though I have to stand guard until night." -</p> -<p> -Magnani tried to be playful, and imagined that he was very much relieved -to find that he was not called upon to defend himself against Mila's -love; but it saddened him to hear the girl declare her affection for -another, and his candid face expressed, despite his efforts, a painful -disappointment. Had she not previously confessed it to him during their -long vigil, and had she not by that confidence invested him in a certain -sense with the duties of a brother? He was determined to execute -worthily that sacred mission; but how did it happen that a moment before -it had startled him to see her in anger, and why had his heart, -nourished so long upon an insane and bitter passion, felt suddenly -revivified and rejuvenated by the unexpected presence of this child who -had entered through his window like a sunbeam? -</p> -<p> -Mila was stealthily watching him. She saw that she had struck home. "O -untamed heart," she said to herself, with silent but intense joy, "I -have you now; you shall not escape me." -</p> -<p> -"My dear neighbor," said the artful minx, "pray do not be offended at -what I have just told you, and do not look upon it as an affront to your -merit. I know that any other than myself would be flattered to be -compromised by you, with the hope of becoming your wife; but I am -neither a liar nor a flirt. I am in love, and, as I have confidence in -you, I tell you of it. I know that it cannot cause you any pain, since -you have given up all thought of marriage, and since you detest all -women, except a single one who is not myself." -</p> -<p> -Magnani made no reply. The cobbler was still singing. "It is my fate," -thought Magnani, "not to be loved by any woman and never to be cured of -my love." -</p> -<p> -Mila, inspired by that species of divination which love gives to women, -even to those who have had no experience and have read but little, said -to herself—and justly—that Magnani, being stimulated in his -passion by suffering and absence of hope, would be alarmed and repelled -at the idea of love being offered to him unasked—a too-ready, -alluring love; consequently she represented herself as invulnerable and -protected against him by another attachment. In that way she lured him -by making him suffer, and that was, in truth, the only way in which he -could be lured. By changing the form of his torture, she paved the way -for his cure. -</p> -<p> -"Mila," he said to her at last, pointing to a heavy ring of chased gold -which he wore on his finger, and which she had already noticed, "can you -tell me the source of this beautiful present?" -</p> -<p> -"That?" she said, looking at the ring with feigned astonishment. "It is -impossible for me to tell you anything about it. But I no longer hear -your neighbor; farewell. By the way, Magnani, you look very tired. You -were resting when I came in; you would do well to rest a little more. -None of us are in any danger at this moment. I am not, because my father -and brother are about the house. They are not, because it is broad -daylight and the house is full of people. Sleep, my dear neighbor. If it -is only for an hour, that will give you strength to go on with your -rôle of guardian of the family." -</p> -<p> -"No, no, Mila. I shall not sleep, and, indeed, I have no desire to; for, -say what you will, there are some strange, inexplicable things still -going on in this house. I confess that I lost myself a moment, just as -day was breaking. You were asleep; you were locked into your room; the -man in the cloak had gone. I had sat down under your gallery, saying to -myself that the first step that shook it would wake me instantly if I -should happen to fall asleep. And thereupon I did actually fall asleep. -For five minutes perhaps, not more, for it was not perceptibly lighter -when I woke again. Well! when I opened my eyes, I fancied that I saw a -corner of a dress or a black veil, which flitted by me and disappeared -like a flash. I made a vague, fruitless effort to seize that vision with -the hand that lay half open on the bench at my side. But in my hand, or -beside it—I don't know which—was an object which I dropped at -my feet, and instantly picked up again: it was this ring. Have you any idea -to whom it belongs?" -</p> -<p> -"Such a fine ring cannot belong to anyone in the house," Mila replied; -"but I think I know it." -</p> -<p> -"And I know it, too," said Magnani; "it belongs to Princess Agatha. For -five years I have seen it on her finger, and it was there the day she -came into my mother's room." -</p> -<p> -"It is a ring that came to her from her own mother, she told me so! But -how does it happen to be on your hand to-day?" -</p> -<p> -"I relied upon you to explain that prodigy to me, Mila; that is what I -wanted to ask you." -</p> -<p> -"Upon me? Why upon me?" -</p> -<p> -"You are the only one in this house in whom the princess is sufficiently -interested to have given her so handsome a present." -</p> -<p> -"And if she had given it to me," she said, in a superb and mocking tone, -"do you suppose that I would have deprived myself of it in your favor, -Signor Magnani?" -</p> -<p> -"No, surely not; you should not and would not have done it; but you -might have passed along the gallery and dropped it, for I was just under -the rail." -</p> -<p> -"No, I did not! Besides, didn't you see a black dress beside you? Am I -dressed in black?" -</p> -<p> -"I thought, however, that you might have gone down into the yard during -that moment that I was asleep, and that, to punish me or to make sport -of me, you played that joke on me. If that is the case, Mila, you must -agree that the punishment was too light, and you ought to have poured -water on my face instead of keeping it for my flowers. But take your -ring, I don't want to keep it any longer. It wouldn't be a suitable -thing for me to wear, and I should be afraid of losing it." -</p> -<p> -"I swear to you that that ring was never given to me, that I did not go -into the yard while you were asleep; and I will not take what belongs to -you." -</p> -<p> -"As it is impossible that Princess Agatha should have come here this -morning——" -</p> -<p> -"Oh! to be sure, that is impossible!" said Mila, with mischievous -gravity. -</p> -<p> -"And yet she did come here!" said Magnani, thinking that he could read -the truth in her gleaming eyes. "Yes, yes, Mila, she came here this -morning! You are impregnated with the perfume that her clothes exhale; -either you touched her cape, or she kissed you, not more than an hour -ago." -</p> -<p> -"Great heaven!" thought the girl, "how well he knows everything that has -any connection with Princess Agatha! how shrewdly he guesses, when she -is in question! Suppose it were she with whom he is in love? Well! God -grant that it may be, for she will help me to cure him; she loves me so -dearly!" -</p> -<p> -"You don't answer me, Mila," continued Magnani. "Since you are found -out, confess." -</p> -<p> -"I do not even know what you said," she replied; "I was thinking about -something else—about going away!" -</p> -<p> -"I will help you; but first I will beg you to put this ring on your -finger so that you may return it to Princess Agatha; for she surely lost -it when she passed me." -</p> -<p> -"And supposing that she did come here, which is absurd, my dear -neighbor, why should she not have made you this present?" -</p> -<p> -"Because she must know me well enough to be sure that I would not accept -it." -</p> -<p> -"You are proud!" -</p> -<p> -"Very proud, you have said it, my dear Mila! It is not in the power of -any person to put a material price on the devotion which my heart gives -joyfully. I can conceive that a great nobleman may present a gold chain -or a diamond to the artist who has delighted him for an hour by his -genius, but I could never understand why he should want to pay the man -of the people from whom he feels justified in asking a proof of -affection. Moreover, that would not be the case here. In notifying me -that your brother was in some danger, Princess Agatha simply pointed out -to me a duty, which I should have performed as zealously if anyone else -had given me the same warning. It seems to me that I am sufficiently her -friend and your father's, and I might also venture to say yours, to be -ready to stand guard, to fight, and to go to prison for one of you, -without being hired to do so by anyone. Don't you believe it, Mila?" -</p> -<p> -"I do believe it, my friend," she replied; "but I believe also that you -misinterpret this gift altogether, if it is a gift. Princess Agatha -knows better than you or I that friendship is not to be bought with -money and jewels. But she probably feels, as you and I do, that when -friendly hearts unite to aid one another, esteem and sympathy increase -in proportion to the zeal which each one displays. In many cases a ring -is a pledge of friendship, not payment for service rendered; for you -have rendered the princess a service by protecting us, that is certain; -although I do not know how it comes about, her cause is bound up with -ours, and our enemies are hers. If you reflect on what I have told you, -you will realize that this ring has a sentimental value in the -princess's eyes, not a material value, as you say; for it is a trinket -not especially valuable in itself." -</p> -<p> -"You told me that it came to her from her mother, did you not?" said -Magnani, deeply moved. -</p> -<p> -"And you yourself noticed that she always wore it! If I were in your -place, and were sure that that ring had been given to me, I would never -part with it. I would not wear it on my finger, where it would attract -too much attention from envious creatures, but on my heart, where it -would be like a blessed relic." -</p> -<p> -"In that case, my dear Mila," said Magnani, touched by the extreme -delicacy with which the girl tried to allay the bitterness of his heart, -and to make him accept her rival's gift with pleasure, "in that case, -take this ring back to her, and if she really meant to give it to me, if -she insists upon my keeping it, I will keep it." -</p> -<p> -"And you will wear it on your heart as I told you?" asked Mila, looking -him through and through with courageous but anxious eyes. "Remember," -she added, vehemently, "that it is the pledge of a patron saint; that -the woman whom you love, whoever she may be, cannot deserve that you -should sacrifice it to her, and that it would be far better to throw it -into the sea than to profane it by an act of ingratitude!" -</p> -<p> -Magnani was dazzled by the flame that flashed from Mila's great black -eyes. Did she guess the truth? Perhaps! but if she simply relied upon -Magnani's gratitude for the woman who had saved his mother, she was no -less noble and generous in seeking to procure for him the pleasure of -believing in that good fairy's friendship. He began to feel infected by -the chaste and deep-rooted ardor which she carried concealed in her -heart, and that proud and passionate heart revealed itself against its -will, amid its efforts to subdue itself or to keep quiet. -</p> -<p> -An impulsive outburst of gratitude and tenderness brought Magnani to his -knees at the girl's feet. -</p> -<p> -"Mila," he said, "I know that Princess Agatha is a saint, and I do not -know whether my heart is worthy to receive a relic from her. But I do -know that there is but a single other heart in the world to which I -would be willing to entrust it; so never fear; no woman, except you, -will ever seem to me pure enough to wear this ring. Put it on your -finger now, in order to give it back to the princess or to keep it for -me." -</p> -<p> -Mila, when she had returned to her room, had a moment's dizziness, as if -she were going to faint. Her heart throbbed wildly with mingled feelings -of consternation and delirious joy. At last she heard her father, who -was impatient for his breakfast, crying: -</p> -<p> -"Well, little one, we are hungry, and thirsty above all! for it's hot -already and the paints make your throat dry." -</p> -<p> -Mila hastened to wait upon them; but when she placed her jug on the -table at which they were breakfasting, she noticed that it was empty. -Michel offered to go and refill it, after making fun of her -absent-mindedness. Sensitive to the reproof, and making it a point of -honor to be her old father's only servant, Mila snatched the jug from -him and ran lightly to the fountain. -</p> -<p> -This fountain was a beautifully clear spring which gushed from the very -heart of the lava, in a soft of cliff behind the house. It not -infrequently happens in those regions overrun by lava, that springs -become choked up by volcanic matter and disappear, to appear again after -the lapse of several years. The people dig in search of the former bed. -They find that the water has broken out a passage under the cold fires -of the volcano, and, as soon as it is given an opportunity, it rushes to -the surface, as pure and healthful as before. The one which bathed the -base of Pier-Angelo's house bubbled up at the bottom of a deep -excavation that had been made in the rock, to which a picturesque -staircase led. It formed a little basin for the laundresses, and a -quantity of white linen, hung upon all the walls of the grotto, kept it -constantly dark and cool there. Pretty Mila, as she tripped up and down -that steep staircase ten times a day, with her jug upon her head, was a -most perfect model for those classical figures which the painters of the -last century inevitably placed in all their Italian landscapes; and in -truth what more natural accessory, what more charming <i>local color</i> -could one give to those pictures than the faces and costumes, the -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap34"></a>XXXIV -<br><br> -AT THE FOUNTAIN -</h4> - -<p> -When Mila descended the staircase cut in the rock, she saw a man sitting -on the edge of the spring, but was not alarmed. Her heart was all full -of love and hope, and the recollection of the dangers that threatened -her was powerless to affect her. Even when she reached the brink of the -spring, this man, whose back was turned to her, and whose head and body -were enveloped in the long hooded cape which the common people wear,<a id="FNanchor_8_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_1" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> -did not arouse her suspicions; but when he turned and asked her in a -soft voice if she would permit him to drink from her jug, she started; -for it seemed to her that she recognized the voice, and she noticed that -there was no one in sight, either above or below the fountain; that not -a child was playing on the staircase as usual, in fact, that she was -alone with this stranger, whose voice terrified her. -</p> -<p> -She pretended not to have heard him, hastily filled her jug, and -prepared to go up again. But the stranger, reclining on the stones, -either to bar her way or perhaps to rest more comfortably, said to her -in the same caressing tone: -</p> -<p> -"Rebecca, will you refuse a drop of water to Jacob, the friend and -servant of the family?" -</p> -<p> -"I do not know you," replied Mila, trying to assume a calm and -indifferent tone. "Can you not put your lips to the cascade? You can -drink from it much better than from a jug." -</p> -<p> -The stranger calmly passed his arms around Mila's legs, and compelled -her to lean on his shoulder to avoid falling. -</p> -<p> -"Let me go," she said, terrified and angry, "or I will call for help. I -have no time to jest with you, and I am not one of those who dally with -every strange man they see. Let me go, I tell you, or I will shriek." -</p> -<p> -"Mila," said the unknown, throwing back his hood, "I am no stranger to -you, although it is not long since we became acquainted. We have -relations together which it is not in your power to break off, and which -it is your duty not to refuse to recognize. The life, fortune, and honor -of those who are dearest to you on earth rest on my zeal and my loyalty. -I have something to say to you; give me your jug, so that if anyone is -watching it will not seem unnatural that you should have stopped here a -moment with me." -</p> -<p> -On recognizing the mysterious guest of the previous night, Mila was -subjugated as it were by a sort of dread not unmingled with respect. For -we must tell the whole truth: Mila was a woman, and the Piccinino's -beauty, his youth, his expression and his soft voice did not fail to -exert a secret influence upon her sensitive and slightly romantic -instincts. -</p> -<p> -"My lord," she said to him, for it was impossible not to take him for a -nobleman in disguise, "I will obey you; but do not detain me by force, -and speak more quickly, for this situation is not without danger to us -both." -</p> -<p> -She handed him her jug, from which he drank without haste; for, -meanwhile, he held the girl's lovely bare arm in his hand and gazed upon -its beautiful shape, pressing it at the same time to force her to tip -the jug gradually, as he quenched his real or pretended thirst. -</p> -<p> -"Now, Mila," he said, covering his face, which he had left uncovered for -her to admire, "listen to me! The monk who frightened you yesterday will -come here again as soon as your father and brother have gone out: they -are to dine to-day with the Marquis della Serra. Do not try to keep them -at home on any account; if they should stay at home, if they should see -the monk, if they should try to drive him away, it would be the signal -for some disaster which I could not prevent. If you are prudent and -devoted to your family, you will even spare the monk the danger of -showing himself in your house. You will come here as if to wash; I know -that, before going into the house, he will prowl about here and will try -to surprise you outside of your yard, for he is afraid of the neighbors. -Do not be afraid of him; he is a coward, and he will never attempt to -use violence with you in broad daylight, or when he is in any danger of -being discovered. He will talk to you again of his ignoble desires. Cut -the conversation short; but pretend that you have changed your mind. -Tell him to go away because you are watched; but make an appointment -with him for twenty o'clock<a id="FNanchor_9_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_9_1" class="fnanchor">[9]</a> at a place which I will indicate, and -whither you must go alone, an hour earlier. I will be there. You will -run no risk therefore. I will take charge of the monk, and you will -never hear of him again. You will be delivered from a detestable -persecutor, Princess Agatha will no longer be in danger of being -dishonored by shocking calumnies; your father will no longer have the -threat of imprisonment hanging over him, and your brother Michel that of -the assassin's dagger." -</p> -<p> -"Great God! great God!" said Mila, panting with fear and surprise, "this -monk is so ill-disposed toward us and able to injure us so! Is he Abbé -Ninfo?" -</p> -<p> -"Speak lower, girl, and do not let that accursed name reach the ears -that surround you to-day. Be calm; seem to know nothing and to be doing -nothing. If you say a word of all this to anybody, no matter who it may -be, you will be prevented from saving those whom you love. You will be -told to distrust me, because your own prudence and strength of will are -distrusted. Who knows if I shall not be taken for your enemy? I am not -afraid of anyone, but I am afraid that my friends will destroy -themselves by their indecision. You alone can save them, Mila! Will you -do it?" -</p> -<p> -"Yes, I will," she said; "but what will become of me if you are -deceiving me? if you do not keep the appointment?" -</p> -<p> -"Why, don't you know who I am?" -</p> -<p> -"No, I do not know; no one was willing to tell me." -</p> -<p> -"Look at me, then; venture to examine me carefully, and you will know me -better from my face than all those people do who have spoken to you -about me." -</p> -<p> -He put aside his hood, and was able to give to his handsome face so -reassuring and affectionate and gentle an expression, that the -simple-hearted Mila yielded to its dangerous influence. -</p> -<p> -"It seems to me," she said, with a blush, "that you are kind and honest; -if the devil is in you, he has put on the mask of an angel." -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> -<a id="figure05"></a> -<br> -<img src="images/figure05.jpg" width="300" alt="300"> -<div class="caption"> -<p><i>MILA SURPRISED AT THE FOUNTAIN.</i></p> -<p class="smaller"> -<i>She handed him her jug, from which he drank -without haste; for, meanwhile, he held the girl's -lovely bare arm in his hand and gazed upon its -beautiful shape, pressing it at the same time to force -her to tip the jug gradually, as he quenched his real -or pretended thirst.</i></p> -</div></div> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -The Piccinino closed his hood to conceal the sensuous gratification -afforded him by that artless confession from the loveliest lips in the -world. -</p> -<p> -"Very well," he replied, "follow your instinct. Obey only the promptings -of your heart; let me tell you, moreover, that your uncle at Bel Passo -brought me up as his son, that your dear Princess Agatha has placed her -fortune and her honor in my hands, and that, if she were not a woman, -that is to say a bit of a prude, she would have made this most essential -appointment with Abbé Ninfo." -</p> -<p> -"But I am a woman too," said Mila, "and I am afraid. Why is this -appointment so essential?" -</p> -<p> -"Don't you know that I am to kidnap Abbé Ninfo? How can I seize him in -the streets of Catania, or at the gates of Villa Ficarazzi? Must I not -lure him out of his den, and lead him into a trap? His evil fate -ordained that he should fall insanely in love with you." -</p> -<p> -"Oh! don't use the word love in connection with such a man; it makes me -shudder. And you want me to make a pretence of encouraging him! I shall -die of shame and disgust." -</p> -<p> -"Farewell, Mila," said the bandit, pretending to rise. "I see that you -are a woman like other women, after all, a weak, vain creature, who -thinks only of saving herself, utterly heedless of the calumnies and -blows that may fall upon the heads which should be most sacred to her!" -</p> -<p> -"No, no, I am not like that!" she replied proudly. "I will sacrifice my -life in this experiment; as for my honor, I shall find a way to die -before it is stained." -</p> -<p> -"Good, good, my brave girl! Now you are talking as Fra Angelo's niece -should talk. You see that I am perfectly undisturbed on your account, -however, because I know that you are in no danger." -</p> -<p> -"But are not you in danger, my lord? If you fall, who will protect me -against this monk?" -</p> -<p> -"A dagger thrust—not in your beautiful bosom, my poor angel, as you -threaten, but in the throat of a vile beast, who is not worthy to die by -a woman's hand, and who will never expose himself to that risk." -</p> -<p> -"Where must I agree to meet him?" -</p> -<p> -"At Nicolosi, at the house of Carmelo Tomabene, farmer, who, you will -tell him, is your friend and kinsman. You will add that he is absent, -that you have the keys of his house, and that there is a large sheltered -garden which he can enter, unseen by anyone, by going down through the -ravine of the <i>Destatore's Cross</i>. Can you remember all that?" -</p> -<p> -"Perfectly; and will he go?" -</p> -<p> -"He will go without any doubt, and without a suspicion that this Carmelo -Tomabene is on very intimate terms with a certain Piccinino, who is said -to be a leader of bandits, and to whom, only yesterday, he offered a -princely fortune on condition that he would kidnap your brother and at -need murder him." -</p> -<p> -"Blessed Madonna, protect me! The Piccinino! I have heard of him; he is -a terrible man. Will he be there with you? I should die of fright if I -saw him!" -</p> -<p> -"And yet," said the bandit, overjoyed to find that Mila knew so little -of what was going on, "I will wager that, like all the girls in the -neighborhood, you are dying with the longing to see him." -</p> -<p> -"I should rather like to see him, because they say he is so ugly! But I -should want to be sure that he did not see me!" -</p> -<p> -"Never fear; there will be nobody but myself at the farmer's house in -Nicolosi. Tell me, are you afraid of me too, child that you are? Have I -a very dreadful, very wicked look?" -</p> -<p> -"No, indeed you have not! But why must I keep the appointment? Won't it -be enough if I send the abbé—I mean the monk?" -</p> -<p> -"He is suspicious, like all criminals; he will never go into Carmelo -Tomabene's garden unless he sees you walking there all alone. By going -there an hour in advance of the time fixed, you run no risk of meeting -him on the road; at all events, go by the Bel Passo road, which you -probably know better than the other. Have you ever been to Nicolosi?" -</p> -<p> -"Never, my lord; is it a very long way?" -</p> -<p> -"Too far for your little feet, Mila; but you can cling to a mule's back, -can't you?" -</p> -<p> -"Oh! yes, I think so." -</p> -<p> -"You will find a perfectly safe, gentle beast behind Villa Palmarosa. A -child will bring it to you, with a white rose for countersign. Drop the -reins on the trusty creature's neck, and have no fear, but let him go as -fast as he will. In less than an hour he will bring you to my gate, -without once missing the way or taking a false step, however horrible -the road he selects may seem to you. You won't be afraid, Mila?" -</p> -<p> -"And suppose I should meet the abbé?" -</p> -<p> -"Lash your beast, and don't be afraid that anyone will overtake you." -</p> -<p> -"But if I am to go by way of Bel Passo, you will surely allow my uncle -to escort me?" -</p> -<p> -"No, your uncle has business elsewhere for the same good cause; but, if -you notify him, he will insist upon accompanying you. If he sees you, he -will follow you, and our whole undertaking will have come to naught. I -have no time to tell you more. I think that I hear some one calling you. -You hesitate; does that mean that you refuse?" -</p> -<p> -"I am not hesitating; I will go! My lord, do you believe in God?" -</p> -<p> -This abrupt and ingenuous question made the Piccinino turn pale and -smile at the same time. -</p> -<p> -"Why do you ask me that?" he said, pulling his hood over his face. -</p> -<p> -"Ah! you know why?" said she. "God hears and sees everything. He -punishes falsehood and assists innocence!" -</p> -<p> -Again they heard Pier-Angelo's voice, calling his daughter. -</p> -<p> -"Go," said the Piccinino, supporting her with his hands, to assist her -to mount the staircase quickly; "remember, if a single word escapes you, -we are lost." -</p> -<p> -"You too?" -</p> -<p> -"I too!" -</p> -<p> -"That would be a pity," thought Mila, turning at the top of the -staircase to cast a last glance at the comely stranger, of whom it was -impossible not to make a hero and a friend of the first order, and whom, -in her joyous imagination, she placed beside Agatha. He had such a soft -voice and such a sweet smile! His tone was so noble, his authoritative -air so convincing! "I will be brave and discreet," she said. "I am only -a little girl, and yet I am the one who is to save everybody's life!" In -all times, alas! the sparrow has yielded to the fascination of the -vulture. -</p> -<p> -In all this the Piccinino gave way to an inborn passion for increasing -the difficulties of an adventure to his profit, or simply for amusement. -To be sure, he had no better way of enticing Abbé Ninfo to his house -than by offering a bait to his lust. But he might well have chosen some -other woman than the innocent Mila to play, with the aid of some slight -resemblance or of a similar costume, the part of the person who was to -appear in his garden. The abbé was sometimes insultingly suspicious, -because he was a horrible coward; but, blinded by ridiculous -presumption, and impelled by lecherous impatience, he would have fallen -into the trap. A little violence, a man stationed behind the gate, would -have sufficed to place him in the bandit's hands. There were many other -ruses to which the Piccinino was accustomed to resort, and which might -have succeeded as well; for the abbé, with all his scheming, his -inquisitiveness, his incessant espionage, his impudent falsehoods and -his shameless persistence, was a villain of the lowest order, and the -stupidest and least adroit man on earth. People are too much afraid of -knaves as a general rule; they do not know that the majority of them are -fools. Abbé Ninfo would not have had to take half the trouble to do -twice the harm, if he had had ever so little intelligence and real -penetration. -</p> -<p> -For instance, we have seen that he was always beside the truth in his -discoveries. He had assumed innumerable disguises and invented a -thousand time-worn methods of watching what was taking place at Villa -Palmarosa; and he was thoroughly persuaded that Michel was the -princess's lover. He was a hundred leagues from suspecting the nature of -the tie between them. He might easily have deceived Doctor Recuperati, -whose unswerving uprightness lacked foresight and intelligence; and yet, -desiring to steal the will from him, he had delayed from day to day, and -had never succeeded in gaining his confidence in the slightest degree. -It was impossible for him to play for five minutes the rôle of a -well-meaning man, his face bore so unmistakably the stamp of unalloyed -and unbounded baseness. -</p> -<p> -His vices embarrassed him, as he himself admitted, even proclaimed, when -he was intoxicated. Dissolute, avaricious, and so intemperate that he -fuddled his brain when lucidity was most essential to him, he had -conducted a difficult intrigue to a successful end. The cardinal had for -a long time made use of him as a police agent for whom no task was too -vile, and he had never valued him except as a tool of the lowest order. -In his days of cynical wit, the prelate had branded him with an epithet -which we shall not attempt to translate, and from which he had never -been able to rise. -</p> -<p> -Thus he had had no share in the family affairs and secrets of State -which had filled the life of Monsignor Hieronymo. The contempt which he -inspired in his master had survived his loss of memory, and the aged -prelate, paralyzed and almost in his dotage, was not even afraid of him, -and recovered the power of speech with him only to call him by the -degrading sobriquet which he had previously bestowed on him. -</p> -<p> -Another proof of the abbé's idiocy was his cherished conviction that he -could seduce all the women who aroused his desires. -</p> -<p> -"With a little money and a lot of lies," he would say, "with threats, -compliments and promises, a man can obtain the proudest or the humblest -of them." -</p> -<p> -Consequently he flattered himself that he could obtain a share of -Agatha's fortune by effecting the removal of the man whom he presumed to -be her lover. He was capable of but one thing, of placing Michel at the -muzzle of a bandit's gun, and shouting <i>fire</i>! in a moment of -disappointed vanity and greed; he would not have dared to kill him -himself, just as he would not have dared to do violence to Mila, if she -had threatened him with nothing more than a pair of scissors. -</p> -<p> -But, abject wretch that he was, he had a certain power for evil; it did -not spring from him, the villainy of other men had invested him with it. -The Neapolitan police lent him its dastardly and odious assistance when -he requested it. He had caused many innocent victims to be exiled, -ruined, or cast into dungeons, and he might very well have seized Michel -without having recourse to the brigands of the mountain. But he wished -to be able to surrender him, at need, for a heavy ransom, and he wished -to have the terms of ransom discussed by avowed brigands, whose interest -it would be not to betray him. His whole rôle consisted in seeking out -the <i>bravi</i> and saying to them: "I have discovered a love intrigue -which is worth something. Do the job, and we will divide the profits." -</p> -<p> -But herein again he had been gulled. A shrewd <i>bravo</i>, who -<i>worked</i> in the city under the Piccinino's direction, and who would -not have presumed to do anything without consulting him, had deceived -the abbé by inviting him to a rendezvous at which he had not seen the -real Piccinino, who was present, however, behind a partition. The -Piccinino had thereupon threatened to break the head of the first of the -two accomplices who should say a word or take a step without orders from -him, and they knew that he was a man to keep his word. Indeed, the young -adventurer governed his band with such extraordinary skill, with a -mixture of gentleness and despotism so well blended, that his father had -not been so loved and dreaded as he was, although, to be sure, he had -acted upon a larger scale and his enterprises had been more extensive. -He could be perfectly at ease, therefore; his secrets would not have -been revealed under torture, and he was able to gratify the caprice -which he frequently had, of carrying out entirely alone, without a -confidant and without assistance, an undertaking in which he had no need -of using main force, but only of craft and strategy. -</p> -<p> -That is why the Piccinino, sure of the success of his plan, which was of -the simplest, chose to blend with it, on his own account, poetic, -strange, and romantic incidents, or real passions, according to his -whim. His vivid imagination and his cold nature involved him constantly -in contradictory enterprises, from which he was always able to extricate -himself, thanks to his great intelligence and his self-control. He had -always sailed his craft so skilfully that, outside of his accomplices -and the very small number of his intimate friends, no one could have -proved that the famous captain, Piccinino, natural son of the -<i>Destatore</i>, and the placid villager Carmelo Tomabene were one and the -same man. The latter also was supposed to be a son of Castro-Reale; but -there were so many others in the mountains who prided themselves upon -that perilous origin! -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="nind"><a id="Footnote_8_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_1"><span class="label">[8]</span></a>It is a double woolen <i>surtout</i>, of several different -colors inside and out. It is worn as a protection against the sun's heat -as well as against the cold.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="nind"><a id="Footnote_9_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9_1"><span class="label">[9]</span></a>That is to say, four hours before nightfall.</p></div> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap35"></a>XXXV -<br><br> -THE COAT OF ARMS -</h4> - -<p> -Thus the one really formidable enemy of the Lavoratori family, had he -chosen to assume that character, was the Piccinino; but Mila had no -suspicion of it, and Fra Angelo relied upon that element of heroism -which formed, if we may so express it, half of his ward's character. The -worthy monk was not free from anxiety, none the less; he had hoped that -he would soon see him again, and have an opportunity to make sure of his -disposition in the matter: but he had waited and sought in vain. He was -beginning to wonder if he had not turned the wolf into the sheepfold, -and if it were not a great mistake to act in concert with men who were -capable of doing what one would not be willing to do oneself. -</p> -<p> -He went to Villa Palmarosa at the usual hour for the daily siesta, and -found Agatha preparing to enjoy the delights of that moment of repose so -essential to Southern peoples. -</p> -<p> -"Set your mind at rest, my dear padre," she said, "my anxiety vanished -with the daylight. At dawn I was so far from confident concerning your -ward's purposes, that I went myself to make sure that he had not -murdered Michel during the night. But the child was sleeping quietly and -the Piccinino had already gone." -</p> -<p> -"You went yourself to investigate, signora? What will the people in the -suburb say of such a proceeding?" -</p> -<p> -"They will never know anything about it, I trust. I was alone and on -foot, entirely covered by an old-fashioned <i>mazzaro</i><a id="FNanchor_10_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_10_1" class="fnanchor">[10]</a> and, if I met -any persons who know me, they certainly did not recognize me. However, -my good padre, I no longer have any serious fears. The abbé knows -nothing." -</p> -<p> -"You are sure of it?" -</p> -<p> -"I am perfectly sure, and the cardinal is as incapable of remembering -anything whatsoever, as the doctor represented him to be. Nevertheless, -the abbé has evil projects on hand. Would you believe that he supposes -Michel to be my lover?" -</p> -<p> -"And the Piccinino believed it?" said the monk, in dismay. -</p> -<p> -"He believes it no longer," replied Agatha. "I received a note from him -this morning in which he gives me his word that I can be perfectly at -ease; that the abbé will be in his power in the course of the day, and -that until then he will find a way to keep him so busy that we shall -hear nothing from him. So I breathe freely, and have only one subject of -anxiety; that is, to know how I am to escape the intimacy of Captain -Piccinino hereafter, for he threatens to become too attentive. But we -will talk of that later; sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof; -and if, after all, it should become necessary for me to tell him the -truth—You do not think him the man to abuse it, do you?" -</p> -<p> -"I know that he is the man to pretend that he proposes to take advantage -of and abuse every opportunity; but have the courage to treat him always -as a paragon of sincerity and generosity, and you will see that he will -try to live up to the character, and will do it, in spite of the devil." -</p> -<p> -The princess and the Capuchin talked together for a long while, and -mutually informed each other of all that they knew. After which, Fra -Angelo went down to Catania to cancel Magnani's orders, to make another -appointment with him to meet Agatha, and to take his place as escort to -Michel and his father to the Marquis della Serra's palace; for, in spite -of everything, Fra Angelo did not like the idea of their being alone in -the country, so long as he himself had not seen the <i>Destatore's</i> son. -</p> -<p> -We will follow these three members of the Lavoratori family to the -marquis's villa, leaving Mila in anxious expectation of the monk's -visit, while Magnani, working on the gallery opposite her room, was far -from suspecting that, after asking his assistance, she was watching for -an opportunity to steal out of sight. She had promised her father to go -and dine with her friend Nenna, as soon as she had washed and ironed a -veil which she said that she must have to wear. Everything happened as -her unknown friend had predicted. She saw the monk at the fountain, and -had no need to feign a most intense fear of being taken by surprise, for -she asked herself in dire distress what Magnani would think of her if, -after what she had told him, he should see her voluntarily talking with -that miserable wretch. -</p> -<p> -To avoid the necessity of speaking to him and looking at his disgusting -face, she tossed him a written paper which he read with the utmost -delight; then he went away, throwing her kisses which made her quiver -with disgust and indignation. -</p> -<p> -At that moment her father, brother, and uncle, having no shadow of -suspicion of the perils to which the poor child was about to expose -herself for them, entered the Della Serra palace. That sumptuous -dwelling, more modern than that of Palmarosa, from which it was -separated only by their respective great parks and a narrow valley -covered with gardens and grass, was filled with artistic objects, -statues, urns, and magnificent paintings, which the marquis had -collected with the enthusiasm of an earnest and enlightened connoisseur. -He came forward in person to meet the Angelos, shook hands with them -cordially, and, pending the dinner-hour, took them all over his noble -residence, showing to them and explaining courteously, and with no less -wit than good sense, the masterpieces of art with which it was -embellished. Pier-Angelo, although a simple decorator, had excellent -taste, and a due appreciation of the beautiful in art. He was peculiarly -susceptible to the charm of all those marvellous things with which he -was already familiar, and his artless yet profound reflections enlivened -the most serious conversation instead of lowering its tone. Michel was a -little embarrassed at first in the marquis's presence; but as he soon -discovered that his father's natural and unconstrained manner seemed to -a man of sense like the marquis in unexceptionable taste and most -becoming, he felt more at ease; and finally, when he found himself -sitting at a table laden with silver plate, decorated as handsomely and -with as great an abundance of flowers as for the entertainment of the -most illustrious guests, he forgot his prejudices, and talked as freely -and interestingly as if he had been the marquis's own son or nephew. -</p> -<p> -A single thing disturbed him strangely during the dinner: the expression -and attitude which he attributed to the marquis's servants; I say which -he attributed, because he dared not look at them. He had dined many a -time at the tables of the rich when he was in Rome, especially after his -father returned to Catania, and he no longer had a family to keep him at -home and prevent his seeking the society of the fashionable youth of the -city. So that he did not fear any affront for himself; but, as it was -the first time that he and his father had been invited to dine abroad -with a patrician, he suffered torments at the idea that the lackeys -might shrug their shoulders and pass the dishes rudely to the excellent -old man. -</p> -<p> -In truth those lackeys might well have had a feeling of anger and -contempt, having seen Pier-Angelo on his ladder so many times in that -same palace, and treated him as their equal. -</p> -<p> -Nevertheless, whether because the marquis had prepared them by a word or -two of kindly and straightforward explanation calculated to flatter and -soothe the sensitive self-love of men of that class, or because -Pier-Angelo was so great a favorite with all who knew him that even -footmen laid aside their customary pride in his favor, they served him -with much deference. Michel observed it at last, when his father, -turning to an old servant who was filling his glass, said to him with a -smile: -</p> -<p> -"Many thanks, old fellow; you wait on me like a friend. I'll do as much -for you when I have the chance." -</p> -<p> -Michel flushed and glanced at the marquis, who smiled with a touched and -gratified air. The old servant also smiled at Pier-Angelo with a -friendly glance. -</p> -<p> -After the dessert was removed, the marquis was informed that Master -Barbagallo, the princess's majordomo, was waiting in one of the rooms of -the palace to show him a picture. They found him in conference with Fra -Angelo, whose sobriety and restless activity made him impatient of a -long sitting at table, and who had asked leave to walk about the grounds -immediately after the first course. -</p> -<p> -At first, the marquis went alone to Barbagallo, to ask if he had any -private message for him from the princess; and when they had exchanged -in an undertone a few words which seemed to be of no importance, to -judge by their faces, the marquis returned to Michel and said, putting -his arm through his: -</p> -<p> -"Perhaps it will afford you some pleasure to see my family portraits, -which are in a separate gallery, and which I had forgotten to show you. -Don't be alarmed at the multitude of ancestors assembled under my roof. -You can look them over at a glance, and I will call your attention -particularly only to those which are the work of some great master. -However, it is an interesting collection of costumes, which a historical -painter might consult with advantage. But, before going in, let us cast -a glance at this one which Master Barbagallo has brought to us, having -just disinterred it in the lofts of Villa Palmarosa.—My dear child," -he added, in a low voice, "pray bestow a greeting on the poor majordomo, -who is outdoing himself in reverences, being ashamed, doubtless, of his -behavior to you at the princess's ball." -</p> -<p> -Michel at last noticed the majordomo's advances, and replied to them -without resentment. Since he had become reconciled to his position and -to himself, he felt that he was cured of his over-sensitiveness, and -believed, with his father, that no impertinence can reach the man who -possesses his own esteem. -</p> -<p> -"This which I present to your excellency," said the majordomo to the -marquis, "is a very much dilapidated Palmarosa; but, although the -inscription had almost disappeared, I have succeeded in deciphering it, -and here it is on a bit of paper." -</p> -<p> -"What!" said the marquis, with a smile, "you succeeded in reading that -this swashbuckler was a captain in the reign of King Manfred, and that -he accompanied John of Procida to Constantinople? That is wonderful. For -myself, I read the original inscription with the eyes of faith!" -</p> -<p> -"You can be perfectly sure that I am not mistaken," replied Barbagallo. -"I knew this gallant captain well, and I have been trying for a long -time to find his portrait." -</p> -<p> -Pier-Angelo roared with laughter. -</p> -<p> -"Ah! so you lived in those days!" he said; "I knew that you were older -than I am, Master Barbagallo, but I didn't suppose that you saw our -Sicilian Vespers!" -</p> -<p> -"Would that I had not seen it!" exclaimed Fra Angelo, with a sigh. -</p> -<p> -"I must explain Master Barbagallo's learning, and the interest he takes -in my family gallery," said the marquis to Michel. "He has passed his -life in this labor of patience, and no one is so familiar as he with -Sicilian genealogies. My family was connected by marriage in the past -with the Princess of Palmarosa's, and even more closely with the family -of Castro-Reale, of which you have doubtless heard." -</p> -<p> -"I heard a great deal about it yesterday," replied Michel, with a smile. -</p> -<p> -"Very good; when I became the last heir of that family, after the death -of the famous prince known as the <i>Destatore</i>, all that came to me -by that succession—to which I gave very little thought, I promise -you—was a collection of ancestors which I did not even care to -unpack, but which Master Barbagallo, being enamored of curios of that -sort, took pains to clean and classify, and to hang in their proper -order in the gallery you are about to inspect. There were already in -that gallery, in addition to my own direct ancestors, a goodly number of -ancestors of the Palmarosa line, and Princess Agatha, who cares nothing -for collections of the sort, sent me hers, saying that it would be -better to collect them in a single place. That gave Master Barbagallo a -very long and difficult task, which he executed with honor to himself. -Come, all of you, for I have many characters to present to Michel, and -it may be that he will need his father's and uncle's assistance to hold -his own against so many dead men." -</p> -<p> -"I retire, in order not to impose my presence upon your lordships," said -Master Barbagallo, after accompanying them to the gallery to deposit his -Sicilian captain; "I will return some other time to put my picture in -place; unless the signor marquis desires that I should give Master -Michelangelo Lavoratori, whose very humble servant I am to-day and -always, the history of the originals of these portraits." -</p> -<p> -"What, signor majordomo," laughed Michel, "you know the story of all -these characters? There are more than three hundred of them!" -</p> -<p> -"There are five hundred and thirty, your lordship, and I not only know -their names and all the incidents of their lives, with their precise -dates, but I also know the name, age, and sex of all the children who -died before their features were reproduced, to be transmitted to -posterity. There have been three hundred and twenty-seven, including -those born dead. I have omitted none but those that never were -baptized." -</p> -<p> -"That is marvellous!" said Michel; "but if I had been in your place, -having such a memory, I should have preferred to learn the history of -the human race rather than that of a single family." -</p> -<p> -"The human race doesn't interest me," replied the majordomo, gravely. -"His excellency, Prince Dionigi de Palmarosa, father of the present -princess, did not entrust me with the duty of teaching his children -history. But, as I loved to be occupied, and as I had much time to -myself, in a house where no banquets or parties have been given for two -generations, he advised me, for amusement, to make a summary of the -history of his family, which was scattered through a multitude of -manuscript folio volumes, which you can see in the library at Palmarosa, -and all of which I examined and studied to the last letter." -</p> -<p> -"And did it really amuse you?" -</p> -<p> -"Much, Master Pier-Angelo," the majordomo solemnly replied to the old -painter's jocose question. -</p> -<p> -"I see," rejoined Michel, ironically, "that your lordship is no ordinary -steward, and that you are far more cultivated than your duties require." -</p> -<p> -"My duties, while not brilliant, have always been very pleasant," -replied the majordomo, "even in Prince Dionigi's day, and he was -pleasant to nobody but me. He had much consideration, almost friendship -for me, because I was an open book which he could consult at any hour -concerning his ancestors. As for the princess, his daughter, as she is -kind to everybody, I cannot but be happy with her. I do almost exactly -as I choose, and there are only three things about her that grieve me, -and those are her giving up her family gallery, her never consulting her -genealogical tree, and her not deigning to investigate the science of -heraldry. And yet it is a delightful science, and one which ladies used -to cultivate with success." -</p> -<p> -"And now it is a part of the stock in trade of decorators and gilders of -wood," said Michel, laughing anew. "They are attractive ornaments of -which the bright colors and the flavor of the days of chivalry please -the eye and the imagination; that is all." -</p> -<p> -"That is all?" rejoined the scandalized steward; "pardon me, your -lordship, that is not all. Heraldry is history written in hieroglyphics -<i>ad hoc</i>. Alas! the time will soon come, perhaps, when we shall know -how to read this mysterious writing better than the sacramental characters -which cover the tombs and monuments of Egypt! And yet what profound and -ingeniously expressed meaning there is in that figurative language! To -place upon a seal, upon the bezel of a ring the whole history of one's -own race—is not that the result of a marvellous art? And what more -concise and more impressive signs have civilized people ever used?" -</p> -<p> -"What he says is not without a basis of reason and common sense," said -the marquis, in an undertone, addressing Michel. "But you listen to him -with a disdainful expression which impresses me, young man. Come! say -all that you think; I would like to hear it, in order to ascertain -whether you have good reason for laughing at the nobility with a touch -of bitterness, as you seem inclined to do. Do not be embarrassed; I will -listen to you as calmly and disinterestedly as yonder dead men, who look -down upon us with lifeless eyes, from their frames blackened by the -lapse of time." -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="nind"><a id="Footnote_10_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_10_1"><span class="label">[10]</span></a>A black silk cloak, which covers the whole body and the -head.</p></div> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PICCININO, VOLUME 01 (OF 2) ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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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. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The Piccinino, Volume 01 (of 2) - The masterpieces of George Sand, volume 7 - -Author: George Sand - -Translator: G. Burnham Yves - -Illustrator: Oreste Cortazzo - -Release Date: January 19, 2023 [eBook #69839] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Dagny and Laura Natal Rodrigues (Images generously made - available by Hathi Trust Digital Library.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PICCININO, VOLUME 01 (OF -2) *** - - - THE MASTERPIECES OF - - GEORGE SAND - - - - - AMANDINE LUCILLE AURORE DUPIN, - BARONESS DUDEVANT - - - - - VOLUME VII - - - - - THE PICCININO - - THE LAST OF THE ALDINIS - - - - - The Masterpieces of George Sand - Amandine Lucille Aurore Dupin, Baroness - Dudevant, _NOW FOR THE FIRST - TIME COMPLETELY TRANSLATED - INTO ENGLISH THE PICCININO, AND THE LAST OF THE - ALDINIS BY G. BURNHAM IVES_ - - _WITH SIX PHOTOGRAVURES AFTER PAINTINGS BY - ORESTE CORTAZZO._ - - - - -_VOLUME I_ - - - - -_PRINTED ONLY FOR SUBSCRIBERS BY -GEORGE BARRIE & SON -PHILADELPHIA_ - - - - -[Illustration: _EXAMINING THE ABBÉ'S PAPERS._ - -_He opened and ran through several other papers -which mentioned none but unknown names, and -which Mila burned without looking at them._] - - - - -CONTENTS -INTRODUCTION -CHAPTER -I. THE TRAVELLER -II. THE TRAVELLER'S STORY -III. MONSIGNORE -IV. MYSTERIES -V. THE CASINO -VI. THE STAIRCASE -VII. A GLANCE -VIII. THE INTRUDER -IX. MILA -X. PROBLEM -XI. THE GROTTO OF THE NAIAD -XII. MAGNANI -XIII. AGATHA -XIV. BARBAGALLO -XV. ROMANTIC LOVE -XVI. CONCLUSION OF MAGNANI'S STORY -XVII. THE CYCLAMEN -XVIII. THE MONKS -XIX. YOUTHFUL LOVES -XX. BEL PASSO AND MAL PASSO -XXI. FRA ANGELO -XXII. THE FIRST STEP ON THE MOUNTAIN -XXIII. THE DESTATORE -XXIV. IL PICCININO -XXV. THE DESTATORE'S CROSS -XXVI. AGATHA -XXVII. DIPLOMACY -XXVIII. JEALOUSY -XXIX. APPARITIONS -XXX. THE FALSE MONK -XXXI. WITCHCRAFT -XXXII. THE ESCALADE -XXXIII. THE RING -XXXIV. AT THE FOUNTAIN -XXXV. THE COAT OF ARMS - - - - -LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS - -THE PICCININO - -VOLUME I - -EXAMINING THE ABBÉ'S PAPERS - -THE CARDINAL'S ESCORT - -THE BALL AT THE PALMAROSA PALACE - -AFTER THE FÊTE - -THE CONFERENCE WITH THE PICCININO - -MILA SURPRISED AT THE FOUNTAIN - - - - -INTRODUCTION - - -_The Piccinino_ is an imaginary tale, which does not attempt either to -depict any precise period of history or to describe accurately any -country. It is a study in color, dreamed rather than felt, wherein -correct strokes are few and, as it were, accidental. The scene of this -romance might have been placed anywhere else under the skies of Southern -Europe, and my sole reason for selecting Sicily was that I happened to -have a collection of fine engravings before my eyes at that moment. - -I had always been conscious of a longing to draw my little brigand -chief, as others have done. The brigand chief who formed the principal -motive of so many novels and melodramas under the Empire, under the -Restoration, and even in romantic literature, always proved generally -entertaining, and the principal interest always attached to that -awe-inspiring and mysterious personage. It was most ingenuous on the -part of the public, but so it was. Whether the type was -terror-inspiring, as in the case of Byron's brigands, or, like those of -Cooper, deserving of the Monthyon prize for virtue, it was enough that -those heroes of despair should have legitimately earned the halter or -the galleys, for every tender-hearted and virtuous reader to love them -devotedly from the first page, and to offer up prayers for the success -of their undertakings. Why, then, should I, on the pretext of being a -reasonable person, have deprived myself of the pleasure of creating one -of them according to my fancy? - -Being fully persuaded that the brigand chief had become a part of the -public domain, and belonged to every novelist, as do all other classical -types, I determined to try at least to make that personage, occupying as -he does so abnormal a position, possible and true to life in his -character. Such a mystery envelops Byron's pirates that one would not -dare to question them, and that one fears or pities them without knowing -them. Indeed we may as well say at once that it is by virtue of that -unexplained mystery that they appeal to us; but I am not Byron, and my -novels are not poems. I desired, for my own part, to draw a perfectly -intelligible character, encompassed by romantic circumstances, who is -somewhat exceptional in himself, but with whom my indulgent reader can -become acquainted, little by little, as with any ordinary mortal. - - GEORGE SAND - -Nohant, April 22, 1853. - - - - -THE PICCININO - - - - -TO MY FRIEND - -_EMMANUEL ARAGO_ - -IN MEMORY OF A PLEASANT EVENING - - - - -I - -THE TRAVELLER - - -The region called _piedimonta_, which surrounds the base of Ætna, and -of which Catania forms the portion nearest the level of the sea, is, -according to the declared opinions of all travellers, the loveliest -country in the whole world. It is that fact which impels me to place -there the scene of a story which was recently told me, but of which I -was forbidden to reveal the real _locus_ or the real characters. -Therefore, dear reader, pray take the trouble to transport yourself in -imagination to the district called Valdemona, or _Valley of the Demons_. -It is a beautiful spot, which, however, I do not propose to describe in -great detail, for a sufficiently good reason: namely, that I am not -familiar with it, and one cannot depict very faithfully what one knows -only by hearsay. But there are so many excellent books of travel that -you can consult! unless, indeed, you prefer to go thither in person, -which I would that I, too, might do, to-morrow, provided that it was not -with you, reader; for, in presence of the marvellous beauties of that -spot, you would rebuke me for having described it so ill, and there is -nothing more disagreeable than a travelling companion who is constantly -preaching at you. - -In default of something better, my fancy is impelled to lead you rather -far away, beyond the mountains, and to leave in peace for a time the -quiet country districts wherein I usually like to frame my tales. The -moving cause of this fancy is exceedingly puerile, but I propose to tell -it to you. - -I do not know whether you remember, assuming that you do me the honor to -read me, that I placed before you last year a novel entitled _The Sin of -Monsieur Antoine_, the scene of which was laid on the banks of the -Creuse, and especially among the ruins of the ancient château of -Châteaubrun. Now that château exists, and I drive thither at least -once in every year, although it is about ten leagues from my own home. -This year I was very coldly received by the old peasant woman who has -charge of the ruins. - -"Look you!" she cried, in her half-Berrichon, half-Marchois patois, "I -don't think much of you; my name is not _Janille_, but _Jennie_. I -haven't got any daughter, and I don't lead my master round by the nose. -My master don't wear a blouse; you lied about him. I never saw him in a -blouse, etc., etc. I don't know how to read, but I do know that you've -been writing lies about my master and me. I have no liking for you now." - -This harangue apprized me that there still lives, not far from the ruins -of Châteaubrun, an old man named Châteaubrun, who never wears a -blouse. That is all that I know about him. - -But it proved to me that I must needs be most circumspect when writing -of La Marche and Berry. That was at least the tenth time that something -of that sort had happened to me, and every time persons bearing the name -of some of my characters, or living in the localities I have described, -have flown into a passion with me and accused me of slandering them, not -deigning to believe that I took their names by chance, and that I did -not know of their existence. - -To give them time to become calm again, before I return to that region, -I propose to make an excursion to Sicily. But how shall I avoid making -use of a name that belongs to some inhabitant or some portion of that -celebrated island? A Sicilian hero cannot be called Durand or Wolf, nor -do I find on the map of the country any name which rhymes with Pontoise -or Baden-Baden. I really must baptize my actors and my stage with names -that have some rhyme in _a_, _o_ or _i_. I will take those which are -easiest to pronounce, so far as is possible, without much heed to -geographical accuracy, declaring beforehand that I do not know a cat in -Sicily, even by reputation; so that I cannot possibly intend to point at -any particular person. - -Having made this statement, I am free to choose, and the choice of names -is the most embarrassing question that confronts a novelist who wishes -to become sincerely attached to the characters he creates. In the first -place, I need a princess who has a resounding name, one of those which -give you an exalted idea of the person who bears it; and there are such -lovely names in that country! Acalia, Madonia, Valcorrente, Valverde, -Primosole, Tremisteri, etc.--they all ring true on the ear, like perfect -chords. But if perchance there has ever happened in any of the patrician -families which bear the names of those seignorial localities, an -adventure like that which I am about to describe--a delicate adventure, -I confess--why, I am sure to be accused once more of evil-speaking or -calumny. Luckily, Catania is very far away; my novels do not, in all -probability, pass the lighthouse of Messina, and I trust that the new -pope will do in charity what his predecessor did without knowing why: -that is to say, keep me in the Index; then I shall be entirely at -liberty to speak of Italy, certain that Italy, and with still stronger -reason Sicily, will never suspect it. - -Consequently my princess shall be called the Princess of Palmarosa. I -defy you to find sweeter sounds or a more flowery meaning in any name in -any novel. And now for her Christian name, we must think of that. We -will call her Agatha, because St. Agatha is the revered patron saint of -Catania. But I will urge the reader to pronounce the name _Agata_, even -if I should happen inadvertently to write it in French, otherwise he -will miss the local coloring. - -My hero's name shall be Michelangelo Lavoratori, but we must never -confound him with the illustrious Michelangelo Buonarotti, who died at -least two hundred years before my man's birth. - -As for the period in which the events are supposed to take -place--another unpleasant incident of the beginning of a novel--you are -entirely at liberty to select it yourself, dear reader. But inasmuch as -our characters will be actuated by ideas now in circulation in the -world, and as it would be impossible for me to speak to you as I should -like to do of the men of past ages, I fancy that the story of the -Princess Agatha of Palmarosa and Michelangelo Lavoratori belongs -somewhere between 1810 and 1840. Fix the precise year, day, and hour at -which we begin our narrative to suit yourself; it is a matter of -indifference to me, for my novel is neither historical nor descriptive, -nor does it pride itself at all upon being exact in either respect. - -On the day in question--it was in autumn and broad daylight, if you -please--Michelangelo Lavoratori was descending diagonally across the -gorges and ravines which alternate with each other from the slopes of -Ætna to the fertile plain of Catania. He was coming from Rome; he had -crossed the Strait of Messina, he had followed the highroad as far as -Taormina. There, intoxicated by the grandeur of the spectacle which his -eyes beheld in all directions, and uncertain whether to choose the -seashore or the mountains, he had gone forward to some extent at random, -torn between his impatience to embrace his father and sister, whom he -had not seen for a year, and the temptation to go a little nearer the -gigantic volcano, compared to which it seemed to him, as to Spallanzani, -that Vesuvius is simply a parlor volcano. - -As he was alone and on foot, he had lost his way more than once in that -wild region, intersected by vast streams of lava which form on all sides -steep mountains and valleys filled with luxuriant vegetation. One -travels far and makes very little progress when he must constantly -ascend and descend over a distance quadrupled in length by natural -obstacles. Michel had taken two days to travel the ten leagues, more or -less, which lie between Taormina and Catania as the crow flies; but at -last he was drawing near his journey's end, indeed, he had arrived; for, -after crossing the Cantaro and passing through Mascarello, Piano-Grande, -Valverde, and Mascalucia, he had at last left Santa-Agata on his right -and Ficarazzi on his left. Therefore he was only about a mile from the -suburbs of the city; if he had walked a quarter of an hour more, he -would have reached the end of the adventures of a pedestrian journey, -during which, despite the fascination and the enthusiastic admiration -which such natural scenery inspires in a young artist, he had suffered -considerably from heat in the ravines, from cold on the mountain-tops, -from hunger, and from fatigue. - -But, as he skirted the wall of a vast park, on the slope of the last -hill which he still had to cross, and as, with his eyes fixed on the -city and the harbor, he quickened his pace to make up for lost time, he -stumbled over the stump of an olive-tree. The pain caused by the blow -was most acute; for, after two days' travelling over sharp slag, and -pozzuolana as hot as red-hot ashes, his shoes were sadly worn and his -feet cruelly bruised and sore. - -Being compelled to stop, he found himself in front of a niche in the -wall, containing a madonna. This little chapel, sheltered by a stone -projection and provided with a bench, offered a hospitable resting-place -to wayfarers, and to beggars, monks, and others a convenient station at -the very door of the _villa_, of which our traveller could descry the -handsome buildings through the orange-trees planted in a triple row -along an avenue of considerable length. - -Michel, more annoyed than cast down by this sudden hurt, dropped his -travelling satchel, seated himself on the bench, and rubbed his injured -foot, but soon forgot it to lose himself in meditation. - -In order that the reader may understand the reflections which his -surroundings suggested to the young man, it is essential that I should -introduce him somewhat more fully. Michel was eighteen years of age and -was a student of painting at Rome. His father, Pier-Angelo Lavoratori, -was a mere dauber, a decorator, but very skilful in his line. And, as is -well known, in Italy the artisans whose business it is to cover walls -and ceilings with frescoes are almost all genuine artists. Whether from -tradition, or from natural good taste, they produce some very attractive -decorations; and in the most modest abodes, even in wretched taverns, -the eye is charmed by wreaths and rosework done in a fascinating style, -or it may be by borders simply, the coloring of which is happily -contrasted with the dull tints of the panels and wainscoting. These -frescoes are sometimes executed as perfectly as our wall-papers, and -they are much superior to them, in this respect, that one detects in -them the greater ease of manner of work done by hand. Nothing can be -more dismal than the stiff and regular decorations produced by -machinery. The beauty of Chinese vases, and, indeed, of Chinese work in -general, is attributable to that capricious air of spontaneity which the -human hand alone can impart to its work. Grace, freedom, boldness, the -unexpected, and even ingenuous awkwardness are, in decoration, elements -of charm which we are losing day by day, as we depend more and more upon -the resources of machinery and looms. - -Pier-Angelo was one of the most rapid and ingenious of these -decorators--_adornatori_. He was a native of Catania, and had reared his -family there until the period of Michel's birth, when he abruptly left -his province and settled in Rome. The reason he assigned for this -voluntary exile was that his family was increasing in size, that there -was too much competition in Catania, and that consequently his work no -longer sufficed for his needs; wherefore he proposed to seek his fortune -elsewhere. But people said under their breath that he had fled from the -resentment of certain all-powerful patricians who were devoted to the -court of Naples. - -Everyone knows the bitter hatred of that conquered and down-trodden -people for the government on the other side of the strait. The Sicilian, -proud and revengeful, rumbles incessantly like his volcano, and -sometimes erupts. It was whispered that Pier-Angelo had been involved in -an attempt at a popular uprising, and that he had been obliged to fly, -carrying with him his brushes and his household goods. To be sure, his -social and kindly temperament seemed to contradict such a supposition; -but the lively imaginations of the good people of the suburb of Catania -must needs devise an extraordinary motive for the disappearance of one -so loved and regretted by all his confrères. - -At Rome he was hardly more fortunate, for he had the sorrow of losing -all his children there except Michel; and ere long his wife died in -giving birth to a daughter, whose young brother was her godfather, and -who received the name of Mila, a contraction of Michelangela. - -Having lost these two children, Pier-Angelo, albeit more melancholy, was -much more at ease financially, and by dint of earnest work, he succeeded -in giving his son an education far superior to that which he had himself -received. He displayed a predilection for that boy which almost amounted -to weakness, and Michel, although poor and obscure, was a veritable -spoiled child. - -Now, Pier-Angelo had spurred on his other sons to work, and had imparted -to them early in life the ardor which was consuming him. But, whether -because they had succumbed to excessive toil for which they had not -received from Heaven the same aptitude and strength as their father, or -because Pier-Angelo, finding his family reduced to three persons, no -longer deemed it necessary to have assistance, it is certain that he -seemed more anxious to handle tenderly the health of his last remaining -son, than to provide him betimes with a means of livelihood. - -Nevertheless, the child loved painting, and in play produced fruit, -flowers, and birds, in which the coloring was exquisite. One day he -asked his father why he never introduced figures in his frescoes. - -"What do you say? figures?" replied the good man, who had an abundance -of common sense: "one must paint very beautiful ones, or else let them -alone. Figure painting is beyond such talent as I have been able to -acquire, and whereas people think well of my garlands and arabesques, I -should be very sure of making connoisseurs laugh if I should attempt to -represent limping cupids or hump-backed nymphs dancing on my ceilings." - -"Suppose I should try!" said the child, whom nothing daunted. - -"Try on paper, and however successful you may be for your years, you -will soon see that you must learn before you know." - -Michel tried. Pier-Angelo showed his son's sketches to some -connoisseurs, and to some painters too, who saw that the child had much -talent, and that it would be well for him not to be confined too closely -to the drudgery of mixing colors. Thereupon, Pier-Angelo determined to -make a painter of him, sent him to one of the best studios in Rome, and -relieved him entirely from preparing colors and daubing walls. - -"One of two things will happen," he said to himself with good reason; -"either the child will become a master, or, if he has only trifling -talent, he will come back to the trade of decorating with knowledge that -I do not possess, and he will be a workman of the first order in his -line. In either case he will have a freer and more comfortable life than -mine." - -Not that Pier-Angelo was dissatisfied with his lot. He was blest with -that improvidence, that recklessness, one might say, which are -characteristic of the most laborious and most robust men. He always -relied upon destiny, perhaps because he relied most of all upon his -strong arms and his courage. But as he was a very shrewd and intelligent -observer, he had already detected in Michel the gleam of a spark of -ambition which his other children had never had. He drew the conclusion -that the measure of happiness with which he had been content would not -suffice for that more delicately balanced organism. Tolerant to excess, -and thoroughly convinced that every man has aptitudes which no other man -can estimate accurately, he respected Michel's impulses and inclinations -as manifestations of the will of Heaven, and therein was no less -imprudent than generous. - -For that blind complaisance was certain to lead, and did in fact lead to -this result--that Michelangelo became accustomed never to suffer, never -to be thwarted, and to look upon his own personality as more important -and more interesting than that of other people. He often mistook his -caprices for desires, and his desires for rights. Moreover, he was -attacked early in life by the disease peculiar to fortunate mortals, -that is to say, the fear that they may not always be so fortunate; and -in the midst of his progress he was often paralyzed by the fear of -failing. A vague disquietude seized upon him, and as he was naturally -energetic and bold, it sometimes made him sullen and irritable. - -But we shall obtain a better conception of his character by following -him in the reflections he made at the gates of Catania, in the little -chapel in which he had taken his seat. - - - - -II - -THE TRAVELLER'S STORY - - -I have forgotten to tell you, and it is important that you should know, -why Michel had been separated from his father and sister for a year -past. - -Although he earned his living readily at Rome, and despite his happy -temperament, Pier-Angelo had never been able to accustom himself to -living abroad, far from his cherished fatherland. Like the genuine -islander he was, he regarded Sicily as a land favored by Heaven in every -respect, and the mainland as a place of exile. When the Catanians speak -of the terrible volcano which overwhelms and ruins them so often, they -carry love of country so far as to say: _Our Ætna_!--"Ah!" said -Pier-Angelo, on the day that he passed near the lava fields of Vesuvius, -"if you had seen our famous Catanian wave! that was grand and wonderful! -You would never dare to mention yours again!" He referred to the -terrible eruption of 1669, which sent a river of fire to the very centre -of the city, and destroyed half of the population and buildings. The -destruction of Pompeii and Herculaneum seemed to him a jest.--"Psha!" he -would say proudly, "I have seen bigger earthquakes! You should come to -our home if you want to know what an earthquake is!" - -In fact, he sighed incessantly for the moment when he could see again -his dear furnace and its beloved gate of hell. - -When Michel and Mila, who were accustomed to his cheerful humor, saw -that he was pensive and downcast, they were grieved and disturbed, as -always happens with respect to persons with whom mental depression is a -rare phenomenon. Thereupon he confessed to his children that he was -thinking of his native land. "If I were not in excellent health," he -said, "and if I did not constantly argue with myself, homesickness would -have killed me long ago." - -But when his children spoke to him of returning to Sicily, he would wave -his hands in a significant way, as if to say: "I cannot cross the strait -again; I should escape Charybdis only to fall into Scylla." - -Once or twice he inadvertently said to them: "Prince Dionigi died a long -while ago, but his brother Hieronymo is still living." And when his -children questioned him as to what reason he had to fear Prince -Hieronymo, he shook his finger and said: "Hush! I should not even have -mentioned those princes before you." - -But it happened one day that Pier-Angelo, being at work in a certain -palace in Rome, picked up a newspaper which he found on the floor, and -showing it to Michel, who had looked in upon him on his way from the -Museum of Painting, he exclaimed: "What a misfortune it is for me not to -know how to read! I will bet that there is news from my dear Sicily in -this paper. Look, look, Michel, what is this word here? I would swear -that it was Catania. Yes, yes, I can read that name! Come, look and tell -me what is going on at Catania in these days." Michel glanced at the -paper, and saw that it was proposed to light the principal streets of -Catania with hydrogen gas. - -"Great Heaven!" ejaculated Pier-Angelo; "think of seeing Ætna by -gaslight! How beautiful that will be!" - -And he threw his cap up to the ceiling in his joy. - -"There is more news," said the young man, looking over the paper. "The -Prince-Cardinal Hieronymo of Palmarosa has been obliged to suspend the -exercise of the important functions which the Neapolitan government has -entrusted to him. His eminence has been stricken by paralysis, and his -life is deemed to be in danger. Pending a definite decision from the -medical profession concerning the mental and physical condition of that -noble personage, the government has entrusted his functions temporarily -to his excellency, the Marquis of----" - -"What do I care to whom?" cried Pier-Angelo, snatching the paper from -his son's hands with extraordinary excitement, "Prince Hieronymo is off -to join his brother Dionigi in the tomb, and we are saved!"--Then, after -trying to spell out Prince Hieronymo's name for himself, as if he feared -that his son might have made a mistake, he returned the journal to him -and bade him read the paragraph again, very carefully and very slowly. - -When this was done, Pier-Angelo crossed himself devoutly. - -"O Providence!" he cried, "Thou hast permitted old Pier-Angelo to -witness the extinction of his persecutors, and to return to his native -city! Embrace me, Michel! this event is of no less importance to you -than to me. Whatever happens, remember that Pier-Angelo Lavoratori has -been a good father to you!" - -"What do you mean, father? Are you still in any danger? If you must -return to Sicily, I will go with you." - -"We will talk of that later, Michel. Meanwhile, silence!--Forget -everything, even the words that have escaped me." - -Two days later, Pier-Angelo folded his tents and started for Catania -with his daughter. He would not consent to take Michel, despite the -latter's earnest entreaties. - -"No," he said, "I am not certain that I shall be able to settle at -Catania, for I had the papers read to me again this morning, and they -don't say that Cardinal Hieronymo is dead. They don't mention him at -all. A personage so favored by the government, and so rich, could not -recover or die without a great sensation. So I conclude that he is still -alive, but that he is a little better. His temporary substitute is a -most excellent nobleman, a true patriot, and a friend of the people. I -have nothing to fear from the police so long as we have him to deal -with. But if by a miracle this Prince Hieronymo should come back to life -and health, I should have to return to Rome at once; and in that case -what good would it have done to make you take this journey, which would -interrupt your studies?" - -"But," said Michel, "why not wait until this prince's fate is decided, -before you start yourself? I have no idea what you have to fear from him -and from your presence in Catania, father; for you have never chosen to -explain yourself clearly in that respect; but it alarms me to have you -start, all alone but for this child, for a land where you are not -certain of being well received. I know that the police officials of -absolute governments are suspicious and troublesome; and if you had -nothing worse to fear than a temporary imprisonment, even then what -would become of our little Mila, all alone in a city where you no longer -have any acquaintances? Let me go with you, in heaven's name! I will be -Mila's protector and defender, and when I see that you are comfortably -settled and in no danger, then I will return to Rome and resume my -studies, if you care to remain in Sicily." - -"Yes, Michel, I know, I understand," replied Pier-Angelo. "You have no -wish to remain in Sicily, and your youthful ambition would be -ill-content with a long stay in an island which you believe to be -destitute of all resources and monuments of art. You are mistaken; we -have such noble monuments! Palermo fairly swarms with them. Ætna is the -grandest spectacle that nature can offer to a painter, and we have -painters, too. Morales filled our fatherland with masterpieces worthy to -be compared with those of Rome and Florence!" - -"Excuse me, father," said Michel, smiling, "Morales is not to be -compared with Raphael, Michelangelo, or any of the masters of the -Florentine school." - -"What do you know about it? That is just like children. You have never -seen his great works, his best pieces; you will see them in Sicily. And -such a climate! such skies! such fruit! A veritable land of promise!" - -"Very well, father, permit me to go there with you," said Michel. "That -is precisely what I ask." - -"No, no!" cried Pier-Angelo, earnestly. "I forgot myself in sounding the -praises of Catania, and I do not want you to go there with me now. I -know that your loving heart and your anxiety for us urge you to it; but -I know also that your real inclination does not lie that way. I want the -desire to come to you naturally, when the hour of your destiny has -struck, and when you will kiss the soil of your fatherland with love, -instead of treading it, as you would do to-day, with disdain." - -"These reasons are of little weight, father, in view of the anxiety I -shall feel during your absence. I prefer to be bored and waste my time -in Sicily, rather than to let you go there without me and pass my time -here dreaming of dangers and disasters." - -"Thanks my child, and farewell!" said the old man, embracing him -affectionately. "If I must tell you explicitly, I cannot take you. Here -is half of all the money I possess; be careful of it until I am able to -send you more. You can depend upon it that I shall not waste my time at -Catania, and that I will work energetically to procure the means for you -to continue your painting. I shall need time for the journey and to get -settled; after which I shall find plenty of work, for I had many friends -and patrons in my country, and I know that I shall find some of them -there still. Do not dream of dangers and disasters. I will be prudent; -and although duplicity and fear are not my ordinary failings, I have too -much Sicilian blood in my veins not to be able to display the cunning of -an old fox, at need. I know Ætna as well as I know my own pocket, and -its ravines are deep enough to keep a poor fellow like me hidden for a -long while. Besides, I have maintained friendly relations with my -kinsfolk, as you know. I have a brother a Capuchin, who is a _great -man_. Mila will find shelter and protection with them, if need be. I -will write to you--that is to say your sister will write for me--as -often as possible, and you shall not be left long in uncertainty as to -our fate. Do not mention the names of the Princes of Palmarosa, unless -we mention them to you first." - -"And meanwhile," said Michel, "shall I not know what I have to fear or -to hope from these princes?" - -"You? nothing, upon my word," replied Pier-Angelo; "but you do not know -Sicily; you would not have the prudence that is absolutely necessary in -countries that are subjected to foreigners. You have the ideas of a -young man, all the ardent ideas which circulate here in Rome, under the -cloak of lax administration, but which, in Sicily, are hidden and held -in reserve under the ashes of the volcanoes. You would compromise me, -and they would manufacture a conspiracy against the court of Naples out -of a single phrase thoughtlessly uttered by you in your fervent -liberalism. Farewell once more; do not detain me. I must see my country -once more! You have no idea what it means to me to have been born at -Catania, and to have been away eighteen years; or, rather, you do not -understand it, for it is true that you were born at Catania yourself, -and that the story of my exile is the story of yours! But you were -brought up at Rome, and you look upon Rome as your country, alas!" - -A month later Michel received, by the hand of a mechanic who arrived in -Rome from Sicily, a letter from Mila, which informed him that their -journey was most successful; that they had been welcomed with open arms -by their relations and former friends; that Pier-Angelo had found work -and valuable patronage; but that the cardinal was still living, although -not greatly to be feared, because he had withdrawn from the world and -from public affairs. However, Pier-Angelo did not wish Michel to join -him, for no one knew _what might happen_. - -Until then Michel had been depressed and anxious, for he loved his -father and sister dearly; but, as soon as his mind was at rest with -respect to them, he involuntarily rejoiced that he was at Rome and not -at Catania. His life there had been very pleasant since his father had -permitted him to devote himself to painting. Favored by his masters, who -were attracted to him not only because of his happy aptitude, but also -because of a certain elevation of mind and of language above his years -and his condition, received in the society of young men much richer and -more aristocratic than he--and we must admit that he was much more -accessible to their advances than to those of the sons of artisans, his -equals--he devoted his leisure to the cultivation of his brain and the -enlargement of his circle of ideas. He read rapidly and greedily, he -frequented the theatres, he conversed with artists; in a word, he -prepared himself wonderfully well for a free and noble existence, to -which, however, he was by no means certain that he could properly -aspire. - -For the resources of the poor painter in distemper, who sent half of his -wages to him, were not inexhaustible. Illness might put an end to them -at any time, and painting is so serious and profound an art that one -must study many years before one can hope to make profitable use of it. - -This thought terrified Michel, and sometimes cast him into the deepest -dejection. "O father!" he was saying to himself, when we met him at the -gate of a palace near his native town: "Did you not, through excessive -affection for me, do yourself as well as me a great injury, by urging me -on in the pathway of ambition? I do not know if I shall succeed, yet I -feel that it will be very hard for me to resume the life which you lead, -and for which fortune destined me. I am not so strong as you; I am a -degenerate in the matter of physical strength, which is the stamp of -nobility of our race. I cannot walk, I am fatigued beyond measure by -what would be simply healthy exercise for you, at sixty years of age. -And here am I used up, wounded in the foot, by my own fault, by reason -of my absent-mindedness or my awkwardness. And yet I was born among -these mountains, and I see children running over these sharp lava beds -as I would walk on a carpet. Yes, my father was right, this is a -beautiful fatherland; one may well be proud of having issued like the -lava, from the sides of yonder terrible mountain! But one should be -wholly, not half worthy of such a glorious origin. He should be a great -man and fill the world with peals of thunder and lightning flashes; or -else he should be a stout-hearted peasant or a determined brigand, and -live in the desert, without other resource than a carbine and a pitiless -heart. That too is a poetic destiny. But it is too late for me; I have -learned too many things, I know the laws, society and mankind too well. -That which is heroism in these artless and uncivilized mountaineers -would be cowardice and crime in me. My conscience would reproach me for -having succeeded in attaining grandeur by genius and the gifts of -civilization, and for having relapsed, from impotence, to a condition of -brigandage. So I should have to live an obscure, insignificant life!" - -Let us leave Michel for a little while to nurse and rub his aching foot, -and inform the reader why, despite his love for Rome and the pleasant -days he passed there, he found himself now at the gates of Catania. - -From month to month his sister had written to him, at her father's -dictation: "You cannot come yet, and we cannot make any decision -concerning our own future. The sick man is as well as a man can be who -has lost the use of his arms and his legs. But his head still lives and -retains a remnant of power. Here is some money; be careful of it, my -child; for, although I have all the work I want, wages are lower here -than at Rome." - -Michel tried to be careful of the money, which represented to him the -sweat of his father's brow. He quivered with shame and dismay when his -young sister, who worked at spinning silk--a very common industry in -that part of Sicily,--secretly added a gold piece to her father's -remittance. Evidently the poor child subjected herself to great -privations to obtain for her brother the wherewithal to amuse himself -for an hour. Michel vowed that he would not touch those gold pieces, but -would save them and carry back to Mila all her little savings. - -But Michel loved pleasure; he craved a certain amount of luxury, and he -did not know how to save. He had princely tastes, that is to say, he -loved to give, and rewarded handsomely any _facchino_ who brought him a -picture or a letter. And then too, painting materials are very -expensive. Again, when Michel was in the company of wealthy young men, -he would have blushed not to pay his scot like the rest. So that he ran -in debt to a small amount, albeit very large for the budget of a poor -decorator. There came a time when, the debt imitating the snow-ball, it -became necessary for him either to fly in disgrace or to resign himself -to take up some more humble occupation than historical painting. -Trembling with rage and grief, Michel sacrificed the gold pieces which -he had determined to carry back to Mila some day. But, finding that he -was still far from solvent, he confessed everything in a letter to his -father, blaming himself with something very like despair. A week later a -banker forwarded to the young man the sum necessary to pay his debt, and -to live some time longer on the same footing. Then came a letter from -Mila, who said, still at Pier-Angelo's dictation: "A kind friend lent me -the money I have sent to you; but I shall have to work six months to -repay the loan. Try, my son, not to run in debt again until then, for if -you do we shall have arrears of indebtedness which we can never -discharge." - -Although Michel had never been reprimanded by his father, he expected -something in the nature of a rebuke this time. When he realized the -excellent man's inexhaustible kindness and philosophic courage, he was -heartbroken, and though unable to blame himself for errors into which -his position had irresistibly led him, he did blame himself, as for a -crime, for having accepted that too brilliant position. He formed a -mighty resolution, and was assisted in carrying it out by the idea that -he was consummating a great sacrifice, and that if he had not the making -of a great painter in him, he had at all events the heroism of a great -character. Thus vanity had much to say in this effort of his will, but -it was an ingenuous and noble vanity. He paid his debts and bade his -friends farewell, announcing his purpose to abandon painting and to work -with his father at his trade. - -Then, without informing his father of his coming, he packed in a bag a -few choice clothes, a sketch-book, and a number of boxes of -water-colors, not realizing that those symbols of luxury and art showed -that he carried the thought of luxury and art with him; and he started -for Catania, where we have seen him on the point of arriving. - - - - -III - -MONSIGNORE - - -Despite this heroic renunciation of all the dreams of his youth, poor -Michel experienced at that moment a sort of grief-stricken dismay. The -journey had diverted his thoughts from the consequences of his -sacrifice. The sight of Ætna had exalted his imagination. The joy he -felt at the thought of seeing his excellent father and his dear little -sister had sustained his courage. But this unlucky accident of a -trifling wound in the foot, and the necessity of halting for an instant, -gave him leisure for reflection for the first time since he had left -Rome. - -Moreover, that was an exceedingly solemn moment to his youthful mind. He -saw before him the domes of his native city, one of the loveliest cities -in the world, even to him who comes from Rome, and the one of all others -whose location is most imposing to the eye. - -This city, so many times devastated by the volcano, is not very ancient, -and the style of the seventeenth century, which prevails in its -buildings, has not the grandeur or the pure taste of earlier periods. -Nevertheless, Catania, built upon an extensive plan and of antique -spaciousness, is of a Greek type, taken as a whole. The sombre color of -the lava from which it has risen again and again after being swallowed -up by it, as if it had found the seeds of renewed life in its own ashes, -after the manner of the phœnix, the open plain which surrounds it, and -the cruel reefs of lava which have taken root in its harbor, as if to -darken with their stern shadow even the shimmer of the waves--everything -about the city is majestic and melancholy. - -But it was not the aspect of the place that engrossed the thoughts of -our young traveller. His own plight made it seem to him more gloomy and -terror-inspiring than it had been made by the passage of the flames that -belched forth from the cave of the Cyclops. He saw before him a place of -trials and of expiation, in face of which a cold perspiration burst from -every pore. It was there that he was about to bid farewell to the world -of art, to the society of enlightened men, to unchecked reveries, and to -the studious leisure of the artist summoned to an exalted destiny. It -was there that he must resume, after ten years of a highly-favored -existence, the artisan's apron, the hateful sizing-pot, the conventional -festoon, the decoration of reception rooms and corridors. And, worse -than all the rest, it was there that he would have to work twelve hours -a day and go to bed exhausted, lacking time and strength to read or muse -in a picture gallery; there that he must resign himself to do without -other society than that of the Sicilian common people, so poor and so -unclean that the poetic charm of his features and his intellect could -scarcely penetrate the rags and degradation of poverty. In a word, the -gate of Catania was, to that poor exile, the gate of the accursed city -described by Dante. - -At the thought, a torrent of tears, long held in check or turned aside, -rushed from his eyes, and whoever had seen him thus, young, comely, -pale, seated outside the gate of a palace, with his hand lying -carelessly upon his injured foot, would inevitably have thought of the -gladiator of old, wounded in combat, but weeping for his defeat rather -than for the pain. - - -[Illustration: _THE CARDINAL'S ESCORT._ - -_The bells of a number of mules ascending the -hill, and the appearance of a strange caravan coming -directly toward him, forcibly changed the current of -Michelangelo Lavoratori's reflections._] - - -The bells of a number of mules ascending the hill, and the appearance of -a strange caravan coming directly toward him, forcibly changed the -current of Michelangelo Lavoratori's reflections. The mules were superb -creatures, richly caparisoned and decorated with plumes. On their long -purple saddle-cloths gleamed the insignia of the cardinalate, the triple -cross of gold, surmounted by the little hat and tassels. They were laden -with baggage and led by servants dressed in black, with gloomy, -suspicious faces; then came abbés and other ecclesiastics, with black -short-clothes, red stockings and large silver buckles on their shoes; -some on horseback, others in litters. A very stout individual, in a -black coat, with his hair in a bag, a diamond on his finger, and a sword -at his side, rode gravely upon a magnificent ass. From his air of -importance, somewhat more candid than the crafty expressions of the -churchmen who surrounded him, he could readily be identified as his -eminence's physician. He escorted his eminence himself, who was carried -in a chair, or rather in a great box, by two powerful men, beside whom -walked four relay bearers. The whole procession consisted of about forty -persons, and the uselessness of each one of them could be measured by -the rapt meditation and humility depicted on his face. - -Michel, deeply interested in the passage of this procession which -surpassed all that Rome had to offer in that direction, that was most -classic and superannuated, rose and stood near the gateway, in order to -obtain a nearer view of the principal personage's face. He was the -better able to gratify his curiosity, as the bearers halted in front of -the enormous gilded gate, while a sort of abbé, with a repulsive -countenance, dismounted and opened the gate himself with an air of -authority and a peculiar smile. - -The cardinal was a man far advanced in years, who had once been -corpulent and florid, but was now pale and emaciated, as the result of -gradual and cruel decay. The skin upon his face, once tightly stretched, -now relaxed, hung in innumerable folds, and imparted to the face a -strong resemblance to a field furrowed by the passage of a torrent. -Despite these ghastly evidences of decomposition, there was a trace of -imperious beauty upon those lifeless features, which could not or would -not make the faintest movement, but amid which two great black eyes -still glowed, the last sanctuary of a stubborn vitality. - -The contrast between the stern, piercing glance and the corpse-like face -impressed Michel so strongly that he could not avoid a feeling of -respect, and he instinctively bared his head before that feeble remnant -of a powerful will. Everything that indicated a forceful, imperious -nature produced its effect upon that young man's imagination, because he -was himself ambitious of power and authority, and, except for the gleam -of those tyrannical eyes, it is doubtful if it would have occurred to -him to remove his straw hat. - -But, as his modest garb and his dusty shoes indicated a man of the -people rather than a great painter in embryo, the cardinal's people and -the cardinal himself naturally expected to see him kneel, which he did -not do, and his neglect scandalized them terribly. - -The cardinal was the first to notice it, and as his bearers were about -to pass through the gate, he made a sign with his eyebrows which was -instantly read by his physician, who rode always beside him, and was -ordered to keep his eyes always fixed upon those of his eminence. - -The doctor had just enough wit to understand from the cardinal's -expression that he wished to manifest some desire or other; so he -ordered a halt, and advised Abbé Ninfo, his eminence's secretary, the -same who had opened the gate with his own hand, and with a key taken -from his own pocket. The abbé hastened forward, as he had done before, -and placed his body in front of the door of the chair in such way as to -conceal it from the rest of the procession. Thereupon there took place -between his eminence and him a mysterious dialogue, so mysterious that -no one could say whether his eminence made himself understood by speech, -or simply by the play of his features. Ordinarily the paralytic -dignitary uttered nothing more than unintelligible grunts, which became -a frightful roar when he was angry; but Abbé Ninfo understood those -grunts so well, when assisted by his eminence's expressive glance and -his intimate knowledge of his character and designs, that he interpreted -his master's wishes and ordered them executed with an intelligence, a -rapidity and a careful attention to details which bordered on the -marvellous. Indeed it seemed altogether too supernatural to be accepted -as genuine by the other subordinate priests, and they declared that his -eminence had retained the power of speech, but that by virtue of the -most profound diplomacy, he preferred not to use that power except with -Abbé Ninfo. Doctor Recuperati asserted however that his eminence's -tongue was paralyzed as completely as his arms and legs, and that the -only living portions of his being were the organs of the brain and of -the digestion. "With those," he said, "a man may live to be a hundred -years old, aye, and shake the world, as Jupiter shook Olympus, simply by -contracting his eyebrow." - -The result of the strange dialogue between Abbé Ninfo's sharp eyes and -the eloquent eyebrows of his eminence, was that the abbé turned -suddenly to Michel and motioned to him to draw near. Michel was strongly -tempted to do nothing of the sort, and to compel the abbé to walk to -him; but the Sicilian spirit suddenly awoke in him, and he stood on his -guard. He recalled all that his father had told him of the dangers to be -dreaded from the wrath of a certain cardinal, and, although he could not -tell whether the man before him was paralyzed or not, it suddenly -occurred to him that he might very well be Cardinal Hieronymo, of -Palmarosa. Thereupon he determined to dissemble, and he approached the -gilded, decorated chair adorned with his eminence's crest. - -"What are you doing at this gate?" the abbé demanded in a surly tone. -"Are you of the household?" - -"No, your excellency," replied Michel, with apparent tranquillity, -although he was tempted to strike his questioner. "I am passing by." - -The abbé glanced into the chair, and apparently he was given to -understand that it was useless to intimidate wayfarers, for he suddenly -changed his tone and manner as he turned again to Michel. - -"My friend," he said benignantly, "you seem unfortunate; are you a -mechanic?" - -"Yes, your excellency," said Michel, resolved to speak as little as -possible. - -"And you are fatigued? you have come a long distance?" - -"Yes, your excellency." - -"But you are strong for your years. How old are you?" - -"Twenty-one." - -Michel could safely risk that falsehood; for, although he had as yet no -beard on his chin, he had attained his full growth, and his active and -restless brain had already caused him to lose the first bloom of youth. -In this last reply he complied with a special injunction which his -father had laid upon him when they parted, and which came to his mind -most opportunely: "If you come to Sicily to join me one day or another," -said old Pier-Angelo, "remember that, until you have actually joined me, -you must not say a word of truth in reply to people who seem to you -curious and inquisitive. Tell them neither your name, nor your age, nor -your profession, nor mine, nor whence you come, nor whither you are -going. The police are more meddlesome than shrewd. Lie boldly and have -no fear." - -"If my father should hear me," thought Michel, after he had thus -distinguished himself, "he would be satisfied with me." - -"It is well," said the abbé, and he stepped away from the prelate's -door, so that the latter could see the poor devil who had thus attracted -his attention. Michel's eyes met the moribund's terrible glance, and he -thereupon felt more distrust and aversion than respect for that narrow -and despotic brow. Warned by an inward presentiment that he was in a -dangerous position, he changed the customary expression of his face, and -substituting sheepishness for pride therein, he bent his knee, hung his -head in order to escape the prelate's scrutiny, and pretended to await -his benediction. - -"His eminence blesses you mentally," said the abbé, after consulting -the cardinal's eyes, and he motioned to the bearers to go forward. - -The chair passed through the gateway and proceeded slowly along the -avenue. - -"I would like well to know," thought Michel, as he looked after the -procession, "whether my instinct deceived me, or whether that man is the -enemy of my family." - -He was about to continue his journey, when he observed that Abbé Ninfo -had not followed the cardinal, but was waiting until the last mule had -passed, in order to lock the gate and restore the key to his pocket. -This strange caretaking on the part of a man so close to the cardinal -was well calculated to make an impression on him, and the keen, sidelong -glance which that unattractive personage stealthily bestowed upon him -impressed him even more. - -"It is evident that I am already watched in this unhappy country," he -thought; "and that my father did not dream of the enmities against which -he warned me to be on my guard." - -The abbé motioned to him to come to the gate just as he withdrew the -key. Michel, persuaded that he must play his part more carefully than -ever, approached with an air of humility. - -"Here, my boy," said the abbé, offering him a small coin, "here is -something with which to refresh yourself at the first tavern, for you -seem to be very much fatigued." - -Michel repressed a thrill of indignation. He accepted the insult, put -out his hand and thanked the abbé humbly; then he ventured to say: - -"I am grieved that his eminence did not deign to give me his blessing." - -This well-acted bathos dispelled the abbe's suspicions. - -"Console yourself, my child," he said, in a nonchalant tone; "Divine -Providence has been pleased to deprive our holy cardinal of the use of -his limbs. Paralysis permits him to bless the faithful only with his -mind and heart." - -"May God cure and preserve him!" rejoined Michel; and he went his way, -very certain now that he was not mistaken, and that he had had a lucky -escape from a perilous meeting. - -He had not taken ten steps down the hill-side when, as he turned a -corner, he found himself face to face with a man who was close upon him -before either of them recognized the other, so little did they expect to -meet at that moment. Suddenly they both cried out at once and clung -together in a passionate embrace. Michel was in his father's arms. - -"O my child! my dear child! you, in this place!" cried Pier-Angelo. -"What joy and what anxiety for me! But joy carries the day and makes me -braver in spirit than I was a moment since. I was thinking of you and -saying to myself: 'It is lucky that Michel is not here, for our affairs -might well become serious.'--But here you are, and I cannot help being -the happiest of men." - -"Never fear, father," Michel replied; "I became prudent as soon as I set -my foot on my native soil. I have just met our enemy face to face; he -questioned me, and I lied in a way to do your heart good." - -Pier-Angelo turned pale.--"Who? who?" he exclaimed; "the cardinal?" - -"Yes, the cardinal in person, the paralytic in his great gilt box. It -must be the famous Prince Hieronymo, who was the terror of my childhood, -and who seemed to me all the more terrible because I did not know the -cause of my fear. Well, dear father, I assure you that even if he still -has the will to do harm, he has not the power, for all varieties of -infirmity seem to have conspired together to crush him. I will tell you -of our interview; but tell me first of my sister, and let us go at once -and surprise her." - -"No, Michel, no, the most important thing is for you to tell me how you -happened to see the cardinal so close. Let us go into this clump of -trees; I am not at all easy in my mind. Tell me, tell me quickly! He -spoke to you, you say? Is it certain that he spoke?" - -"Let me reassure you, father, he cannot speak." - -"Are you sure of it? You told me that he questioned you." - -"I was questioned in his behalf, I suppose; but, as I observed -everything with perfect coolness, and as that caricature of an abbé who -acts as his interpreter is too thin to conceal the whole interior of the -chair, I saw plainly that his eminence spoke with his eyes only. -Moreover, his eminence is stone deaf, for when I told my age, which the -abbé asked me for some unknown reason, I saw the abbé lean toward -monsignore and hold up his ten fingers twice over, and then the thumb of -his right hand." - -"Dumb, helpless, and deaf to boot! I breathe again. But how old did you -say you were? Twenty-one?" - -"You told me to lie as soon as I set foot in Sicily." - -"It is well, my child; Heaven aided and inspired you in that encounter." - -"I think so, but I should be much more certain of it if you would tell -me how the cardinal can be interested to know whether I am eighteen or -twenty-one." - -"That question cannot interest him in any way," said Pier-Angelo, with a -smile. "But I am overjoyed to find that you remembered my advice and -that you have suddenly acquired this prudence, of which I didn't believe -you to be capable. But tell me again, what did Abbé Ninfo--for it must -have been he, I am sure; was he very ugly?" - -"Frightful; he squints and has a flat nose." - -"That's the man! What else did he ask you? your name, or your province?" - -"No, no other direct question, except as to my age, and my brilliant -reply to that seemed to satisfy him so entirely that he turned his back, -promising me his eminence's blessing." - -"And his eminence didn't give it to you? he didn't raise his hand?" - -"The abbé himself told me a little later that his eminence was entirely -deprived of the use of his limbs." - -"What! that man spoke to you again? that fiend of hell came back to -you?" - -As he spoke, Pier-Angelo scratched the back of his neck, the only spot -on his head where his restless hand could find any hair. It was a sign -with him of great perturbation of spirit. - - - - -IV - -MYSTERIES - - -When Michel had told the story of his adventure to the most trivial -detail, and Pier-Angelo had admired and applauded his hypocrisy, the -young man said: - -"Now, father, pray tell me how it happens that you live here, without a -mask and under your own name, without being molested, whereas I, -immediately upon my arrival, must resort to stratagem and stand on my -guard?" - -Pier-Angelo seemed to hesitate a moment, then replied: - -"Why, it is a very simple matter, my child! I was charged with being a -conspirator long ago; I was put in prison, and probably escaped the -gallows by flight. The formal prosecution had already been begun. That -is all forgotten, and although the cardinal must have known my name and -my face at the time, it would seem that I have changed greatly, or else -his memory is much impaired, for he has seen me here, and must have -heard my name mentioned, without recognizing me and without the faintest -indication that he recalled the old affair; that was a test which I was -resolved to make. I was summoned by Abbé Ninfo to work in the -cardinal's palace; I went there boldly, after taking measures to ensure -Mila's safety in case I should be cast into prison without process. The -cardinal saw me and did not recognize me. Abbé Ninfo knows nothing -about me; so that I am, or at all events I was, free from anxiety on my -own account, and was just about to write you to come and see me, when it -began to be rumored in the city, a few days ago, that his eminence was -visibly improved, so much so that he was going to pass some time at his -country house at Ficarazzi yonder; you can see the palace from here, on -the hillside." - -"Then the villa a few steps away, where I just saw the cardinal enter, -is not his own residence?" - -"No; it belongs to his niece, Princess Agatha. Doubtless he thought that -he would make a détour and call upon her as he passed; but this same -visit worries me. I know that she was not expecting it--that she had -made no preparations to receive her uncle. He must have wanted to give -her an unpleasant surprise, for he surely knows that there is no reason -whatever why she should be fond of him. I greatly fear that this is a -cloak for some wicked design. In any event, this sudden activity on the -part of a man who, for a whole year, has only moved about in a wheeled -chair up and down a gallery in his city palace, gives me food for -thought, and I say that we must pay close attention to everything now." - -"But after all, father, all this does not tell me what danger there can -be for me personally! I was barely six months old, I believe, when I -left Sicily; I fancy that I was not implicated in the conspiracy in -which you were involved?" - -"No, of course not; but new-comers are watched. Every man of the people, -young, intelligent and from across the strait, is assumed to be -dangerous, permeated with the new ideas. A single word from your lips, -spoken in presence of a spy, or extorted from you by an informer, would -be enough to put you in prison; and when I went to claim you as my son, -it would be vastly worse if that wicked cardinal should by any chance be -restored to health and to the exercise of power. Then he might remember -that I was accused long ago, and he would apply to us, by way of -sentence, the proverb: 'Like father, like son.' Now do you understand?" - -"Yes, father, I will be prudent. Rely on me." - -"That is not enough. I must be perfectly sure of the cardinal's state of -health. I do not propose to let you enter Catania until I know what to -expect." - -"But what will you do to find out, father?" - -"I will remain in hiding here with you until we have seen the cardinal -and his procession start for Ficarazzi. It won't be long. If it is true -that he is deaf and dumb, he will not have a long interview with his -niece. As soon as we no longer run the risk of meeting him there, we -will go to the Palmarosa palace, where I am at work now. I will conceal -you in some corner; then I will go and consult the princess." - -"Is the princess in your interest, then?" - -"She is my most powerful and most generous patron. She employs me a -great deal, and I hope that, thanks to her, we shall not be persecuted." - -"Oh! father, was it she who gave you the money which enabled me to pay -my debts?" - -"Lent it my boy, lent it. I knew well enough that you would not accept -alms, but she gives me so much work that I can pay her gradually." - -"You may say: 'Soon,' father, for I am here! I have come to pay my debt -to you; my journey has no other purpose." - -"What, my dear child! have you sold a picture? have you earned some -money?" - -"Alas! no. I am not yet skilful enough or well enough known to earn -money. But I have arms, and I know enough to paint frescoes for -decoration. We will work together, my dear father, and I shall never -again have to blush to think that I am leading the life of an artist, -while you are wearing out your strength to gratify my misplaced tastes." - -"Are you in earnest, Michel?" cried the old man. "You really mean to be -a workman?" - -"I am fully determined upon it. I have sold my canvases, my engravings, -my books. I have given up my lodgings, thanked my teacher, bade farewell -to friends, to Rome, to glory. It was a little hard," added Michel, -feeling that his eyes were filling with tears; "but embrace me, father; -tell me that you are content with your son, and I shall be proud of what -I have done!" - -"Embrace me, my dear boy!" replied the old decorator, pressing his son -to his heart, and blending his own tears with his. "It is a fine thing, -a noble thing that you have done, and God will reward you abundantly for -it, I promise you. I accept your sacrifice, but let us understand each -other: it is for a time only, for a time which we will make as short as -possible by working rapidly to pay our debt. The experience will be -useful to you, and your genius will grow instead of being extinguished. -Between us, thanks to the excellent princess, who will pay us well, we -shall soon have earned money enough for you to return to your real -painting, without remorse and without imposing any privation on me. That -is agreed. Now let us speak of your sister. She is a perfect prodigy of -wit, that little girl. And how she has grown and how beautiful she is! -so beautiful that it's enough to frighten a poor devil of a father like -me." - -"I propose to remain a workman," said Michel, "for with a modest but -sure livelihood I can succeed in establishing my sister in life -according to her rank. Poor dear angel! Think of her sending me her -little earnings! And I, poor wretch, intended to bring them back to her -and was forced to sacrifice them! Ah! it is horrible, yes, detestable, -to try to become an artist when one has poor relations!" - -"We will speak of this again, and I will find a way to revive your taste -for your destiny, my child. But, hark! I hear the gate creaking--the -cardinal is leaving the villa; let us not show ourselves; we shall soon -see them going down on our right. You say that Ninfo opened the gate -himself with a key that he had? It is very strange, and very disturbing -too, to find that the good princess is not safe in her own house, that -these people have false keys to violate her privacy unexpectedly, and -that they evidently suspect her, since they spy upon her in this way!" - -"But of what can they possibly suspect her?" - -"Why, suppose it were only of protecting people whom they persecute! You -assure me that you have become prudent, and in any event you will -understand the importance of what I am going to tell you. You know -already that the Palmarosas were entirely devoted to the court of -Naples; that Prince Donigi, the oldest of the family, Princess Agatha's -father, and brother of the cardinal, was the wickedest Sicilian that was -ever known, the enemy of his fatherland and the persecutor of his -compatriots; and that, too, not from cowardice, like those who go over -to the side of the conqueror, nor from greed, like those who sell -themselves; he was rich and fearless; but he did it from ambition, from -his passion for domineering, in short, from an inborn wickedness that -was in his blood and caused him to take the keenest delight in -terrifying, tormenting, and humbling his neighbor. He was omnipotent in -the time of Queen Caroline, and, until it pleased God to rid us of him, -he inflicted all the harm he possibly could upon the patriotic nobles -and the poor devils who loved their country. His brother continued that -wrong-doing; but now he is going, too; and if the dying lamp still casts -a faint gleam, it is simply a proof that it is dying. Then all the -clientage of the Palmarosas, among the people of Catania, and especially -in the suburb where we live, will be able to breathe freely. There are -no more males in the family, and all the vast property, of which the -cardinal still has the income of a large part, will fall into the hands -of a single heiress, Princess Agatha. She is as good as her relations -have been bad, and her heart is in the right place. She is Sicilian to -the marrow and detests the Neapolitans! She will have great influence -when she is entirely in control of her property and her acts. If God -would permit her to marry and take into her house some worthy nobleman -as right-minded as she, that would change the tone of the administration -somewhat, and better our lot!" - -"Is the princess a young woman?" - -"Yes, still young, and might marry as well as not; but she has always -refused to do it thus far, in the fear, so far as I can understand, that -she would not be free to choose for herself.--But here we are close to -the park," added Pier-Angelo; "we may meet somebody, so let us talk of -indifferent matters only. I urge you, my child, to use here nothing but -the Sicilian dialect, which we very wisely used at Rome so long. You -have not forgotten your native language, I trust, since we parted?" - -"No, indeed," replied Michel. - -And he began to talk Sicilian with great volubility, to convince his -father that there was nothing about him to indicate the foreigner. - -"That is very good," said Pier-Angelo; "you have not the slightest -accent." - -They had made a détour and entered the park by a gate at a considerable -distance from that at which Michel had encountered Monsignore Hieronymo; -the gate was open and the numerous marks on the gravel indicated that -many men, horses, and wagons habitually passed in and out. - -"You will see here a great hurly-burly, most contrary to the ordinary -habits of the household," said the old painter to his son. "I will -explain it to you. But let us say nothing yet, that is the safest way. -Do not look about you too much, nor have the surprised air of a -new-comer. And, first of all, hide that travelling-bag among the rocks -near the waterfall; I shall remember the place. Rub your shoes in the -grass, so that you won't look like a traveller. Why, I believe you are -limping, are you hurt?" - -"Nothing, nothing, a little fatigue." - -"I am going to take you to a place where you can rest without being -disturbed by anyone." - -Pier-Angelo made several détours in the park, leading his son through -shady paths, and thus they reached the palace without meeting anyone, -although they heard a great deal of noise, which increased as they drew -near. They entered a corridor on the lower floor and walked rapidly by -an enormous room, filled with workmen and materials of all sorts, -assembled there for some incomprehensible purpose. The men were so busy -and making so great an uproar that they did not notice Michel and his -father. Michel had no time to understand what he saw. His father had -instructed him to follow him step by step, and he walked so fast that -the young traveller, utterly exhausted as he was, found it difficult to -keep pace with him in the narrow halls and steep stairways. - -Their journey through that labyrinth of secret passages seemed very long -to Michel. At last Pier-Angelo took a key from his pocket and opened a -small door on a dark corridor. Thereupon they found themselves in a long -gallery, adorned with statues and pictures. But the blinds were drawn -everywhere, and it was so dark that Michel could distinguish nothing. - -"You can take a nap here," said his father, after he had carefully -locked the little door and removed the key; "I am going to leave you -here; I will return as soon as possible, and then I will tell you what -we are to do." - -He walked the whole length of the gallery, and, raising a portière -embroidered with armorial bearings, pulled a bell-cord. In a few seconds -a voice answered inside, and a dialogue followed, in so low a tone, that -Michel could not hear a word. At last, a mysterious door was partly -opened, and Pier-Angelo disappeared, leaving his son in the darkness, -chill, and silence of that great empty room. - -At times, however, the echoing voices of the men at work below, the -sound of the saw and the hammer, snatches of song, laughter, and oaths -reached his ears. But the noises gradually died away as darkness -approached, and, after two hours, the most absolute silence reigned in -that unfamiliar abode in which Michel found himself imprisoned, dying of -hunger and weariness. - -Those two hours of suspense would have seemed very long to him if sleep -had not come to his aid. Although his eyes had become accustomed to the -darkness of the gallery, he made no attempt to inspect the objects of -art which it contained. He had dropped upon a rug, and fell into a sort -of lethargy, interrupted sometimes by the tumult below, and the -uneasiness which one feels when sleeping in a strange place. At last, -when nightfall was followed by the cessation of the work, he slept -soundly. - -But a strange cry, which seemed to come from one of the rose-shaped -openings which supplied the gallery with ventilation, woke him abruptly. -He instinctively raised his head and fancied that he saw a faint light -on the ceiling. The figures painted thereon seemed to move for an -instant. Another cry, fainter than the first, but so peculiar that -Michel was perturbed by it and moved to the lowest depths of his being, -sounded over his head. Then the light vanished. The silence and darkness -became so intense that he wondered if he had not dreamed. - -Another quarter of an hour passed, during which Michel, excited by what -had just happened, did not think of going to sleep again. He feared that -his father was in some danger which he could not define. He was -horrified at the thought that he himself was a captive and unable to -assist him. He examined all the doors and found them all securely -locked. He dared not make any noise, for, after all, it was a woman's -voice that he had heard, and he could not understand what connection -there could be between that cry and his own situation or Pier-Angelo's. - -At last the mysterious door opened, and Pier-Angelo appeared, carrying a -candle whose flickering light imparted a fantastic appearance to the -statues upon which it fell one after another. When he stood beside -Michel, he said in a low voice: "We are saved; the cardinal is in his -dotage, and Abbé Ninfo knows nothing of our affairs. The princess, for -whom I was compelled to wait a long while, because she had people about -her, is of the opinion that we should make no sort of mystery about you. -She thinks that that would be worse than simply to announce your return -without any affectation. So we will go back to your sister, who is -undoubtedly anxious because I am so late. But we have quite a little -walk, and I suppose you are dying of hunger and thirst. The steward of -the household, who is very kind to me, told me to take you to a little -buttery, where we shall find something to eat." - -Michel followed his father to a room which had on one side a glass door -with a curtain covering the glass outside. This room, which was in no -wise remarkable, was lighted by several candles, a fact which astonished -Michel somewhat. Pier-Angelo, observing his surprise, said that it was a -room where the princess's first lady's-maid came every night to -superintend the preparation of her mistress's supper. With that he -unceremoniously began to open cupboards and take out cold meats, -preserves, wine, fruit, and innumerable delicacies which he placed -helter-skelter on the table, laughing at each new discovery he made in -those inexhaustible cupboards--all to the unbounded amazement of Michel, -who failed to recognize his father's customary discretion and pride. - - - - -V - -THE CASINO - - -"Well," said Pier-Angelo, "don't you propose to help me? You sit there -with your arms folded and allow your father to wait on you! Do at least -take the trouble to eat and drink yourself!" - -"Excuse me, dear father, you seem to me to do the honors of the house -with a self-possession which I admire, but which I should not dare to -imitate. You also seem to me to be very much at home here." - -"I am more comfortable here than at home," rejoined Pier-Angelo, -nibbling at the wing of a chicken, and offering the other wing to his -son. "Don't expect me to give you such suppers often. But make the most -of this one without false shame; I told you that the majordomo -authorized me to do this." - -"The majordomo is simply a higher servant who pilfers like all the -others, and invites his friends to make themselves comfortable at his -mistress's expense. Excuse me, father, but this supper is distasteful to -me; my appetite has all disappeared at the thought that we are stealing -the princess's supper; for these Japanese plates filled with delicious -sweetmeats were not intended for our mouths, nor even for that of his -highness the majordomo." - -"Well, if I must tell you, that is true; but it was the princess herself -who bade me eat her supper, because she is not hungry to-night, and she -supposed that you would have some reluctance to sup with her servants." - -"Your princess is extraordinarily kind," said Michel, "and shows a most -exquisite delicacy of feeling with respect to me! I confess that I -should not care to eat with her lackeys. But, father, if you do it, if -it is the custom of the house, and a necessity of my new position, I -will be no more fastidious than you, and will accustom myself to it. But -how did it ever occur to the princess to spare me that petty annoyance -to-night?" - -"Because I spoke to her about you. As she is particularly interested in -me, she asked me many questions about you, and, when she learned that -you were an artist, she declared that she would treat you as an artist, -and that she would find an artist's work for you in her house, in short, -that she would show you all the consideration you could possibly -desire." - -"She is a very generous and very thoughtful lady," rejoined Michel, with -a sigh, "but I will not abuse her good-nature. I should blush to be -treated as an artist, side by side with my father the artisan. No, no, I -am an artisan myself, neither more nor less. I prefer to be treated like -my fellows, and if I eat here to-night, I propose to eat to-morrow where -my father eats." - -"It is well, Michel; those are noble sentiments. I drink your health! -This Syracuse wine gives me courage, and makes the cardinal seem no more -formidable than a mummy to me! But what are you looking at so intently?" - -"It seems to me that that curtain behind the glass keeps moving. There -is certainly some prying servant there who doesn't like to see us eating -such a delicious supper in his place. Ah! it will be very disagreeable -to have to deal with those people all the time! They must be carefully -handled, of course, for they can do us an ill turn with their masters, -and deprive an honest artisan, who happens to offend them, of a good -customer." - -"That is true, generally speaking, but there is nothing of the sort to -be feared here. I have the princess's confidence; I deal with her -directly and without any orders from the majordomo. And, then, her -servants are excellent fellows. Come, eat in peace, and don't keep -looking at that curtain, which the wind is blowing." - -"I assure you, father, that it isn't the wind, unless Zephyr has a -pretty little white hand with a diamond ring on the finger." - -"In that case it must be the princess's first lady's-maid. She must have -heard me tell her mistress that you were a well-favored youth, and she -is curious to see you. Sit round this way, so that she can gratify her -curiosity." - -"I am much more anxious to go and see Mila, father, than to be seen by -her ladyship the first lady's-maid. I have eaten my fill; let us go." - -"I will not go until I have applied once more to this excellent wine for -courage and strength. Drink with me again, Michel! I am so happy to be -with you, that I would get drunk if I had the time!" - -"And I am happy too, father; but I shall be still more so when we are at -home with my sister. I do not feel so much at ease as you do in this -mysterious palace: it seems to me that I am watched, or that some one -here is afraid of me. There is a silence and solitude here which do not -seem natural to me. People do not walk and show themselves as they do in -other places. We are stealthy in our movements, and we are being -stealthily watched. Anywhere else I would break a pane of glass to see -what there is behind that curtain--and just now, in the gallery, I had a -terrible shock. I was awakened by a cry, such a cry as I never heard -before." - -"A cry, really? How does it happen that I heard nothing of the sort, -although I was very near you, in the same part of the palace? You must -have dreamed it!" - -"No! no! I heard it twice; a faint cry, it is true, but so vibrating, so -peculiar that my heart beats fast when I think of it." - -"Ah! that is just like your romantic mind! Now I recognize you, Michel; -it delights my heart, for I was afraid that you had become too -reasonable. However, I am sorry, for the sake of your adventure, to be -obliged to tell you what I think about it, which is that her highness's -first lady's-maid must have seen a spider or a mouse as she passed -through one of the corridors that surround the great gallery of -paintings. Whenever she sees one of those creatures, she utters -frightful shrieks, and I take the liberty of laughing at her." - -This prosaic explanation annoyed the young artist a little. He hurried -his father, who was inclined to forget himself over the Syracuse wine, -and half an hour later he was in his sister's arms. - -The next day Michelangelo Lavoratori was installed with his father at -the Palmarosa palace, to work industriously there the rest of the week. -The work in progress was the decoration of the enormous ball-room -constructed of wood and canvas for the occasion, adjoining the peristyle -of that beautiful country-seat, and opening on the gardens on every -side. The princess, who ordinarily lived in strict retirement, was about -to give a magnificent fête, in which all the wealthy and noble -inhabitants of Catania and of the neighboring villas were to take part. -Her reason for this departure from her usual mode of life was as -follows: - -Every year the first society of that neighborhood co-operated to give a -subscription ball for the benefit of the poor, and each proprietor of a -spacious house, whether in the city or the country, was supposed to lend -it in his turn, and to pay a portion of the expenses of the fête when -the circumstances would permit. - -Although the princess was exceedingly charitable, her taste for -seclusion had led her to defer offering her palace; but her turn had -come at last. She had most generously assumed the whole burden of the -fête, agreeing to pay all the expenses of the ball, including the -decorations of the ball-room, music, etc. By reason of her generosity, -the sum realized for the poor promised to be quite handsome, and, as the -Villa Palmarosa was the most superb residence in the province, and all -the preparations were on a magnificent scale, the fête promised to be -the most brilliant one ever seen. - -The house was full of workmen, who had been at work a fortnight on the -ball-room, under the direction of Barbagallo the majordomo, a man of -wide experience in such matters, and under the preponderating influence -of Pier-Angelo Lavoratori, whose taste and skill were already well known -and highly esteemed throughout the province. - -On the first day, Michel, true to his agreement and resigned to his lot, -made garlands and arabesques with his father and the apprentices in his -employ; but his probation was confined to that day, for on the following -morning Pier-Angelo informed him that the princess wished him to -undertake the painting of allegorical figures on the ceiling and canvas -walls of the ball-room. The selection and size of the subjects was left -to his discretion; he was requested simply to make haste and to have -confidence in himself. That task did not require the care and finish of -a durable work; but it opened a wide field to his imagination, and when -he realized that he was in possession of that vast space, upon which he -was at liberty to cast his fancies without restraint, he had a moment of -genuine bliss, and he was more intoxicated than ever with his profession -of artist. - -His enthusiasm for the commission was greatly increased when the -princess sent word to him, through his father, that, if his work was -simply passable, it would be accepted as full payment of the sum lent to -Pier-Angelo for him; but that, if it earned the praise of connoisseurs, -he should be paid double. - -Thus Michel was on the point of becoming free in any event, and perhaps -rich for a year to come, if he displayed any talent at all. - -A single apprehension, but a very weighty one, chilled his joy; the day -for the ball was fixed, and it was not in the princess's power to -postpone it. A week remained, only a week! For an experienced decorator -that was enough, but for Michel, who had never done anything of the sort -on a large scale, and who could not refrain from looking upon it as a -matter in which his self-esteem was deeply involved, it was so little -that he shuddered at the bare thought. - -Luckily for him, having worked with his father in his boyhood, and -having watched him work a thousand times since, the processes of -water-color work were familiar to him, as well as the geometrical -principles of decoration; but when he attempted to select his subjects, -he was oppressed by the superabundance of his ideas, and the prodigality -of his imagination put him on the rack. He passed two nights drawing his -compositions, and all day on his scaffolding, adjusting them to the -space at his command. He did not think of sleeping or eating, or even of -improving his acquaintance with his young sister, until his work was -definitely laid out. At last it was done, and he transferred his labors -to the courtyard of an old ruined chapel in the centre of the park, -where his canvas ceiling, forty feet long, was stretched on the ground. -There, assisted by several zealous apprentices, who handed him his -colors all ready for use, and walking barefooted over his mythological -sky, he prayed to the muses to impart to his trembling hand the -necessary skill and boldness; and at last, armed with a gigantic brush, -which might fitly have been called a broom, he sketched his Olympus and -worked with so much fire and hope that the canvas was ready to be put in -place two days before the ball. - -He had still to superintend its removal and installation, and to retouch -such parts as were necessarily damaged in that process. And then he also -had to assist his father, who, having been delayed by him, still had -many borders of wainscots and cornices to finish. - -That week passed like a dream to Michel, and the few moments of repose -in which he indulged seemed to him delicious beyond words. The villa was -wonderfully beautiful inside as well as outside. The gardens and the -park gave one an idea of the earthly paradise. Nature is so teeming in -that country, the flowers so beautiful and sweet, the vegetation so -luxuriant, the streams so clear and swift, that art has little to do in -order to create fairyland around the palaces there. Not that blocks of -lava and vast fields of ashes do not, here and there, present the image -of desolation beside the Elysian Fields. But those horrors add to the -charm of the oases which the volcanic flames have spared. - -Villa Palmarosa, situated on the slope of a hill whose rugged summit was -exposed to the ravages of Ætna, had existed for centuries amid -continual disasters which it had been privileged to contemplate -undisturbed. The palace was very old, of a graceful type of -architecture, borrowed from Saracen models. The ball-room, which now -concealed the façade of the ground-floor, presented a striking contrast -to the dark coloring and severe decorations of the upper floors. Within, -the contrast was even more striking. While all was uproar and confusion -on the ground floor, all was tranquillity, order and mystery on the -floor above, where the princess lived. At meal times Michel entered that -silent portion of the mansion, for the little room with the glass door, -where he had supped with his father on the first evening, was reserved -for him, as a special and mysterious favor. They were all alone there, -and if the curtain moved again, the movement was so slight that Michel -could not be certain that he had inspired a romantic passion in the -first lady's-maid's breast. - -The palace being built against the cliff, the princess's apartments were -on a level with terraces embellished with flower-beds and fountains; and -by descending a narrow flight of steps, boldly cut in the lava, one -could reach by that means the park and the open country. Once Michel -wandered into those Babylonian flower-gardens suspended over a -terrifying abyss. He saw the windows of the princess's boudoir, which -was two hundred feet above the main entrance of the palace, and yet she -could go out of doors to walk without descending a single step. Such -boldness of conception and such charm in the construction of a dwelling -made him giddy both physically and mentally. But he never saw the queen -of that enchanted abode. At the times when he went up to her apartments -she was taking a siesta or receiving visits from her intimate friends in -the salons on the second floor. - -This Sicilian custom of living on the upper floors, to enjoy the fresher -air and more perfect quiet, is found in several Italian cities. These -private apartments, generally small and quiet, are sometimes called the -_Casino_, and, with their private gardens, form, as it were, a distinct -dwelling above the main palace. This of which we are speaking was set -back from the front and side walls of the lower building by the width of -a very broad terrace, so that it was concealed, and, as it were, -isolated. At the back it formed a building of a single story, on the -level of the flower-garden, since the lower edifice was built against -the cliff. Viewing it from that side, one would have said that a stream -of lava had flowed against the palace and hardened there, and had -blotted out one whole side of it up to the level of the Casino. But the -villa had been constructed in that way to avoid danger from fresh -eruptions. Looking at it from the direction of Ætna, one would have -taken it for a small summer-house perched on top of a rock. Not until -you had made the circuit of that mass of volcanic débris did you -discover a magnificent palace, consisting of three great structures, one -upon another, and climbing the hill backward, so to speak. - -Under any other circumstances Michel would have been curious to know if -this lady, who was said to be lovely and gracious, was, poetically -speaking, worthy to inhabit so noble an abode; but his imagination, -engrossed by the hurried work which had been entrusted to him, paid -little heed to other things. - -He felt so fatigued when he laid aside his rough brush for an instant, -that he was compelled to fight against drowsiness in order not to -prolong his siesta beyond half an hour. Indeed, he was so afraid that -the zeal of his companions might abate, that he took that brief interval -of rest by stealth in the gallery of paintings, where his father would -lock him in, and where it seemed that no one ever set foot. Two or three -times he lacked courage to go and pass the night in the suburb of -Catania, although his house was among the first on the road from the -villa, and he consented to allow his father to procure a bed for him in -the palace. When he did return to the wretched hovel where Mila bloomed -like a rose under glass, he neither saw nor comprehended anything that -took place about him. He confined himself to kissing his sister and -telling her that he was glad to see her, but he had no time to -scrutinize her or to talk with her. - -The day before the fête was a Sunday. It only remained to give a last -glance and a finishing touch to the work. He determined to dress with -some care and to stroll about the city after escorting Mila to the -evening service. He soon learned the location of the principal churches, -squares, and buildings. Lastly, his father introduced him to several of -his friends and relations, who welcomed him cordially, and with whom he -strove to be amiable. But the contrast between that environment and the -society he had frequented at Rome made him sad in spite of himself, and -he retired early, longing for the morrow; for, in presence of his work, -and under the spell of the noble edifice in which he labored, he forgot -that he was of the common people, and remembered only that he was an -artist. - -At last that day of hope and dread arrived, the day on which Michel's -work was to be applauded or ridiculed by the élite of Sicilian society. - - - - -VI - -THE STAIRCASE - - -"What! no farther advanced than this?" cried the majordomo, in despair, -rushing in among the workmen. "Great God! what are you thinking of? The -clock will strike seven in a moment; at eight the carriages will begin -to arrive, and half of this room is not yet draped!" - -As this apostrophe was addressed to no person in particular, no one -replied, and the workmen continued to work with more or less speed, each -according to the measure of his strength and his skill. - -"Room, room for the flowers!" cried the controller of that notable -branch of the establishment. "Put a hundred boxes of camellias in rows -along the benches!" - -"How do you expect to arrange your boxes of flowers before the carpets -are down?" queried Master Barbagallo, with a profound sigh. - -"And where do you expect me to put my boxes and flower-pots?" retorted -the head gardener. "Why haven't your upholsterers finished their work?" - -"Ah! there you are! why haven't they?" said the other, in a tone of -intense indignation. - -"Room! room for my ladders!" cried another voice; "the orders are that -everything must be lighted at eight o'clock sharp, and that doesn't give -me any too much time to light so many chandeliers. Room, room, I say!" - -"Painters, take away your ladders," cried the upholsterers, in their -turn; "we can do nothing as long as you are in the way." - -"Such confusion, such an uproar, it's a second Tower of Babel," muttered -the majordomo, wiping his brow. "I did all that I could to see that -everything was done at the proper time; I warned everyone more than a -hundred times; and here you are, all in a muddle, disputing the ground -with one another, in one another's way, and making no progress at all. -It is hopeless! it is disgusting!" - -"Whose fault is it?" said the man with the flowers. "Can I put my -wreaths on bare walls and my flowerpots on rough boards?" - -"And can I climb up to the ceiling," said the man with the candles, "if -my ladders are taken away to lay carpets? Do you take my men for bats, -do you want me to make thirty honest fellows break their necks?" - -"How do you expect my men to lay their carpets," said the chief -upholsterer, in his turn, "if the painters don't take away their -ladders?" - -"And how do you expect our ladders to be taken away if we are still on -them?" shouted one of the painters. - -"The fault is all yours, you daubers!" cried the frantic majordomo; "or, -rather, your master is the only culprit," he added, noticing that the -young man whom he addressed glared fiercely at him at the epithet of -dauber. "It's that old madman of a Pier-Angelo, who is not even here to -direct you, I'll wager. Where can he be? At the nearest wineshop, I'll -stake my head!" - -A voice, still full and resonant, broke forth at the highest point of -the ceiling with the refrain of an old ballad, and, on looking up, the -wrathful majordomo saw the glistening bald head of the -decorator-in-chief. Evidently the old man was laughing at the majordomo, -and, being master of the field, proposed to put the finishing touches to -his work at his leisure. - -"Pier-Angelo, my friend," said the other, "you are making sport of us! -That is too bad of you. You act like an old spoiled child, as you are; -but we shall lose patience at last. This is no time to laugh and sing -your drinking-songs." - -Pier-Angelo did not deign to reply; he simply shrugged his shoulders as -he talked with his son, who was even higher up than he, shading the -dress of a dancing-girl of Herculaneum, who swam in a blue canvas sky. - -"There are enough figures, enough folds and shading!" cried the -majordomo, beside himself. "Who in the devil will ever look up there, to -see if there's anything wrong with your divinities in the firmament? The -general effect is there, and that's all that is necessary. Come, come -down, you old fox, or I'll shake the ladder you are standing on." - -"If you touch my father's ladder," exclaimed young Michel, in a voice of -thunder, "I will crush you with this chandelier. No jests of that sort, -Signor Barbagallo, or you will be sorry for them." - -"Let him talk, and go on with your work," said old Pier-Angelo, calmly. -"Disputing takes time; don't waste your breath in empty words." - -"Go down, father, go down," said the young man. "I am afraid that in -this confusion they may give you a fall; I shall finish in a moment. Go -down, I entreat you, if you expect me to retain my presence of mind." - -Pier-Angelo descended the ladder slowly; not that he had lost, at sixty -years of age, the strength and agility of youth, but in order to make -the time that his son required to complete his work seem less long. - -"What folly, what trifling!" said the majordomo to the old man. "You -work over these temporary canvases as if they were to be exhibited in a -museum, whereas they will be rolled up and stored in a garret to-morrow, -and will have to be covered with different figures for the next fête! -Who will thank you for it? Who will pay the slightest attention to -them?" - -"Not you; everybody knows that," retorted the young painter, -contemptuously, from the top of his ladder. - -"Hush, Michel, and attend to your work," said his father. "Everyone -takes pride in doing the best he can," he added, looking at the steward. -"There are some who take pride in claiming the credit of all our labors! -Come! the upholsterers may begin. Give me a hammer and some nails, you -fellows! As I have delayed you, it's no more than fair that I should -help you." - -"Always a good comrade!" said one of the upholsterers, handing the old -painter some tools. "Come, Master Pier-Angelo, let art and trade lend -each other a hand! One must be mad to get into trouble with you." - -"Oh! yes," grumbled Barbagallo, who, contrary to his customary reserved -and courteous habit, was in a savage humor that evening; "that's the way -everybody pays court to the obstinate old fool, and he doesn't care a -fig how much trouble he makes for others." - -"Instead of grumbling, you ought to help at the nailing, or by lighting -the candles," said Pier-Angelo, with a mocking air. "But, psha I you are -afraid you might spoil your satin breeches and tear your ruffles." - -"Master Pier-Angelo, you are altogether too familiar, and I swear that I -will never employ you after to-day." - -"God grant it!" retorted the other with his accustomed phlegm, -accompanying himself with sturdy, measured blows of the hammer upon the -nails which he drove in quick succession; "but, on the very next -occasion, you will come and implore me, and say that nothing can be done -without me; and I, as usual, shall forgive your impertinence." - -"Well!" said the majordomo to Michel, as he came slowly down his ladder, -"is it done at last? That is very fortunate! Quick! quick! help the -upholsterers, or the gardeners, or the lamplighters. Do something to -make up for lost time." - -Michel eyed the majordomo with a haughty air. He had so entirely -forgotten even the idea of becoming a mere workman, that he could not -imagine how that subordinate could venture to order him to take part in -tasks unconnected with his special duties; but, just as he was about to -make a sharp retort, he heard his father's voice calling him. - -"Come, Michel, bring us some nails here, and help these good fellows, -who won't finish in time without us." - -"Nothing can be fairer," the young man replied. "I may not be very -skilful at that work, but I have good strong arms for stretching. Come, -what must I do? Tell me, you fellows!" - -"Good!" exclaimed Magnani, a young journeyman upholsterer, outspoken and -full of animation, who lived next door to the Lavoratori family in the -suburb. "Be a good comrade like your father, whom everybody loves, and -you will be loved as he is. We have been told that, because you had -studied painting at Rome, you were inclined to be a little conceited, -and you certainly do go about the city in a coat that is hardly fitted -for an artisan. You have a very pleasing face, to be sure, but people -blame you for being ambitious." - -"Where would be the harm?" rejoined Michel, working industriously beside -Magnani. "Who is not entitled to be ambitious?" - -"I like the frankness of your reply, but every man who wishes to be -admired should begin by winning affection." - -"Am I hated, pray, in this country, where I have just arrived, and where -I know no one as yet?" - -"It is your own country; you were born here, your family is well known -here, and your father highly esteemed; and the very reason that -everybody has their eyes fixed on you is that you have just arrived. -People think you a comely fellow, well dressed and well built. So far as -I am able to judge, you have talent, the figures you have sketched and -colored up yonder are not mere vulgar daubs. Your father is proud of -you, but that is no reason why you should be proud of yourself. You are -still a child, you are several years younger than I; you have almost no -beard on your chin; you have never had an opportunity to furnish proofs -of courage and virtue. When you have suffered a little because of the -hardships of your condition in life, without complaining, then we will -forgive you for carrying your head high and swaying from your hips up as -you cross the street, with your cap over one ear. Otherwise we shall -tell you that you are trying to impose on us, and that if you are not an -artisan, but an artist, you had better ride in a carriage and not look -the young men of your own rank in the face; for, you see, your father is -a workman like us; he has talent in his line, and it may be more -difficult to paint flowers, fruit, and birds on a cornice than to hang -draperies at a window and arrange colors to harmonize in furnishing a -room. But the difference isn't so great that we are not cousins-german -in trade. I do not think that I am any better than the carpenter or -mason; why do you think yourself above me?" - -"I have no such thought," Michel replied; "God preserve me from it!" - -"In that case, why didn't you come to our artisans' ball last night? I -know that your cousin Vincenzo wanted to bring you, and you refused." - -"Do not form a bad opinion of me for that, my friend; it may be that I -am of a melancholy and unsociable temperament." - -"I don't believe it. Your face says the contrary. Forgive me for -speaking to you without ceremony; it is because I like you that I -reproach you in this way. But our carpet is all nailed here; we must go -somewhere else." - -"Two or three of you to each chandelier!" cried the head lamplighter to -his men; "you will never finish if you scatter so!" - -"I say! I am all alone!" cried Visconti, one of the lighters, a stout -fellow and fond of the bottle, who, having a little wine in his brain -already, did not hold the lighted match within two inches of the candle. -Michel, impressed by the lesson Magnani had given him, placed a stool -under the chandelier and attempted to assist Visconti. - -"Ah! that is right!" said the latter; "Master Michel's a good fellow, -and he will have his reward. The princess pays well, and moreover she -wants everybody to enjoy themselves in her house on fête days. There -will be a supper for us after the dessert of the nobility's supper, and -there'll be no lack of good wine. I have already had a little on account -as I passed through the pantry." - -"And so you are burning your fingers!" said Michel, with a smile. - -"Perhaps your hand won't be as steady as it is now, two or three hours -later," retorted Visconti; "for you will come to supper with us, won't -you, young man? Your father will sing us his old ballads, which are -always good for a laugh. There'll be more than a hundred of us at table -at once! Ah! what a lark we will have!" - -"Make room, make room!" cried a tall footman, with gold lace on all the -seams of his livery; "the princess is coming to see if everything is -ready. Make haste, stand aside! Don't shake the carpets so hard, you -raise a dust. I say! you lighters up there, don't drop the wax so! take -away your tools, make a passage!" - -"Well," said the majordomo, "now you will hold your peace, I trust, you -workmen! Come, make haste; if you are late, at least act as if you were -hurrying. I won't be responsible for the rebuke you are going to -receive. I am very sorry for you. But it's your own fault; I can't -justify you. Ah! Master Pier-Angelo, this time you have no excuse for -coming to beg for compliments." - -These words reached young Michel's ears, and all his pride reawoke in -his heart. The idea that his father could _beg for_ compliments and -receive reproaches was intolerable to him. If he had not as yet been -able to see the princess, he could fairly say that he had made no -attempt to see her. He was not one of those who run eagerly at the heels -of a wealthy and powerful person, to feast that person's eyes with the -spectacle of puerile and servile admiration. But this time he stooped as -he stood on the stool, seeking with his eyes that haughty personage who, -according to Master Barbagallo, would in a moment humiliate an -assemblage of intelligent and willing mechanics with a gesture or a -word. He remained in that position, considerably above the level of the -crowd, in order to see better, but all ready to jump down, rush to his -old father's side, and answer for him if, in a spasm of too great -affability, the heedless old man should allow himself to be insulted. - -The vast apartment which they were hastening to complete was nothing -more than an immense garden terrace, covered on the outside with such a -wilderness of foliage, garlands and streamers, that one might have taken -it for an enormous bower after the style of Watteau. Within, movable -floors had been laid on the gravel. Three great marble fountains, -decorated with mythological characters, were not at all in the way in -that extemporized ball-room, but formed its most beautiful decoration. -There was sufficient room to promenade and to dance between those -graceful piles. They discharged their jets of limpid water into -veritable thickets of flowers, beneath the resplendent glare of the -great chandeliers, which spangled them with sparks of light. Benches, -arranged as in an ancient amphitheatre, dotted with rose-bushes here and -there, provided numerous seats for the guests and did not impede the -circulation. - -The ceiling was so high that the main stairway of the palace, an -admirable piece of architecture, adorned with antique statues and jasper -urns of the most beautiful patterns, was wholly within the ball-room. -The white marble stairs were newly covered with a purple carpet, and the -lackeys who preceded the princess having swept back the crowd of -workmen, there was a solemn void about the foot of the staircase. -Everybody instinctively held his peace in anticipation of a majestic -spectacle. - -The workmen, impelled by a feeling of curiosity, ingenuous and -respectful in some, mocking and indifferent in others, all fixed their -eyes on the great carved doors at the top of the staircase. Michel felt -that his heart was beating fast, but it was with anger no less than with -impatience. "Who in God's name are these nobles and wealthy mortals," he -said to himself, "that they walk so proudly over the altars and -platforms that our degraded hands construct for them? A goddess of -Olympus would hardly be worthy to appear in such state, at the summit of -such a temple, to the base mortals prostrate at her feet! Oh! insolence, -falsehood and mockery! It may be that the woman who is about to come -forth before my eyes is a woman of narrow mind, of ordinary parts; and -yet all these bold, strong men, uncover at her approach!" - -Michel had asked his father very few questions concerning Princess -Agatha's tastes and character; and even those few questions Pier-Angelo -had answered, especially of late, in an absent-minded way, as his custom -was when anyone introduced a subject foreign to the train of thought -induced by his work. But Michel was proud, and the thought that he was -about to be brought face to face with some one prouder than himself -aroused a feeling of anger and something like hatred in his heart. - - - - -VII - -A GLANCE - - -When the Princess of Palmarosa appeared at the top of the stairs, Michel -thought that he saw before him a girl of fifteen, she was so lithe and -slender in figure and in attitude; but, at each stair that she -descended, he discovered an additional year upon her brow; and when he -saw her near at hand, he concluded that she was about thirty. That did -not prevent her from being beautiful; not resplendent and superb, but -pure and sweet, like the bunch of white cyclamen she carried in her -hand. She had a reputation for grace and charm rather than for beauty; -for she had never been a coquette, and did not seek to create a -sensation. Many much less beautiful women had kindled passions because -they had chosen so to do. Princess Agatha had never furnished food for -gossip, and if there had ever been any profound emotion in her life, -society had never had any positive knowledge of it. - -She was very charitable, indeed, it might be said that her only -occupation was the distribution of alms; but it was done without parade -or ostentation, and she was not called the mother of the poor. In a -majority of cases the people whom she assisted did not know the source -of the assistance they received. She was not a very regular attendant at -church, although she did not avoid religious services. She had artistic -tastes, and surrounded herself most discerningly with the most beautiful -objects and the noblest minds. But she did not shine in the centre of -her social system, nor did she make a pedestal of her connections or her -wealth. In everything it seemed that she preferred to do as all the -world did, and that, whether from apathy, from good taste, or from -inward timidity, she had made it an object in life never to attract -notice. There never was a more inoffensive woman. People esteemed her, -loved her without enthusiasm, appreciated her worth without jealousy. -But was she appreciated at her true worth? That is something that it -would have been difficult to say. She was not supposed to have a great -intellect. The highest praise that her oldest friends bestowed upon her -was to say that she was an absolutely reliable person and of a very even -disposition. - -All this could be readily seen in the first glance that one cast upon -her, and young Michel, as he watched her descend the staircase with -careless grace, felt his aversion vanish with his dread. It was -impossible to retain a feeling of irritation in presence of so pure, and -calm, and sweet a face. But, as he had prepared, in his anger, to defy -the awe-inspiring glance of a domineering and splendid beauty, he felt -as if his mind were relieved of a great weight when he saw an ordinary -woman. He had an instinctive feeling that, even if she came to scold, -she would have neither the energy, nor, perhaps, the spirit to be -insulting. His heart became calmer, and he gazed at her with increasing -tranquillity, as if the refreshing fluid emanating from a serene mind -had found its way from her to him. - -She was richly but simply dressed in a heavy silk gown of a dull milky -white, without ornament. A small circle of diamonds embellished her -glossy black hair, parted in bands over a smooth, pure forehead. -Doubtless she could have worn richer jewels, but her coronet was a work -of art of most excellent workmanship, and did not weary her small, -admirably poised head with a dragging weight. Her shoulders, half bare, -had lost the interesting thinness of early youth, and had not yet -attained the luxuriant rotundity of the third or fourth youth. There -were still some delicate lines in her figure, and in her every movement -a careless suppleness, which seemed to be unaware of its own existence -and to pose for no one. - -With the end of her fan she slowly waved aside the footman and the -majordomo, who were exerting themselves to make room for her, and passed -before them, stepping easily and without awkward haste over the boards -and rolls of carpet which still lay in her path; and with a sort of -heedlessness, humble or lordly, as you please, allowing the long folds -of her beautiful white silk dress to drag in the dust left by the feet -of the mechanics. With no sign of repugnance, perhaps without observing -them, she brushed against the perspiring workmen, who could not step -aside quickly enough. She passed through a group of gardeners, who were -moving huge boxes, and did not seem to notice or to be disturbed by the -danger of being crushed or wounded. She returned the salutations of -those who saluted her, without the slightest assumption of superiority -or patronage, and when she was in the midst of the swarm of men, boards, -ladders, and canvas, she halted very calmly, looked about to see what -was finished and what was not, and said in a mild and encouraging voice: - -"Well, _gentlemen_, do you hope to have everything finished in time? We -have barely half an hour." - -"I will answer for everything, my dear princess," replied Pier-Angelo, -approaching her with a cheerful air; "don't you see that I am putting my -hand to everything?" - -"In that case, I have no fear," said she, "and I rely also upon -everybody here. It would be a pity to leave such a beautiful piece of -work unfinished. I am exceedingly pleased. It is all conceived with -taste and executed with great care. I thank you very much for the pains -you have taken to do the work well, _gentlemen_, and this fête will -redound to your glory." - -"My son Michel will have his share in it, I trust," rejoined the old -decorator; "will your ladyship deign to permit me to present him to you? -Come, Michel, come and kiss the princess's hand, my son; she is a kind -princess, you see!" - -Michel did not move a muscle to approach them. Although the way in which -the princess had _scolded_ his father had touched him and won his heart, -he was by no means inclined to humble himself before her. He was well -aware that the Italian custom of kissing a lady's hand denotes either -the respectful homage of a friend or the prostration of an inferior, -and, having no right to claim the former title, he did not choose to -descend to the other. He removed his velvet cap and stood erect, -affecting to look the princess in the face with perfect self-possession. - -Thereupon she fixed her eyes upon him, and, whether because her features -wore an expression of kindness and cordiality in contrast to the -careless good-nature of her manners, or because Michel was assailed by a -strange hallucination, he was stirred to the lowest depths of his being -by that unexpected glance. It seemed to him that a searching flame, -intense and penetrating, entered his very soul from the great lady's -soft eyes; that an ineffable affection, coming forth from that unknown -heart, had taken possession of his whole being; in short, that the -Princess Agatha said to him in language more eloquent than any human -words: "Come to my arms, come to my heart!" - -Michel, bewildered, fascinated, beside himself, shuddered, turned pale, -approached with an involuntary, convulsive movement, tremblingly took -the princess's hand, and, as he was about to put it to his lips, raised -his eyes once more to hers, thinking that he had been mistaken, and that -he could in that way put an end to a dream that was at once painful and -delicious. But those pure and limpid eyes expressed a love so absolute -and so trustful that he lost his head, felt that his senses were leaving -him, and fell as if crushed at the signora's feet. - -When he recovered his presence of mind, the princess was already several -steps away. She walked on, followed by Pier-Angelo, and when they were -alone at the farther end of the room, they seemed to be discussing some -detail of the fête. Michel was ashamed; his emotion rapidly vanished in -face of the thought that he had presented to all his companions a -spectacle of incredible weakness and presumption; but, as the princess's -kind words had electrified them all, and as they had all resumed their -labor with a sort of joyful frenzy, they sang and hammered, and bustled -about him, and his adventure was a mere incident, lost, or at least not -understood, in the crowd. Some had noticed, with a smile, that he bowed -lower than he needed to do, and that it was apparently an aristocratic -and gallant habit which he had brought from abroad with his haughty air -and his fine clothes. Others thought that he had stumbled over a board -when he was about to bow, and that his awkwardness had caused his -confusion. - -Magnani alone had watched him closely and half guessed the truth. - -"Michel," he said, after a few moments, when their work had brought them -together once more, "you seem very timid, but I believe that you are -insanely bold. It is certain that the princess thought you a handsome -fellow, and that she looked at you in a certain way which might have -meant something very different on the part of any other woman; but do -not be too presumptuous, my boy; this excellent princess is a virtuous -lady; she has never been known to have a lover, and if she chose to take -one, it isn't at all likely that she would begin with a little painter -in distemper, when so many illustrious noblemen ----" - -"Hush, Magnani," said Michel, vehemently; "your jests wound me, and I -have never given you the right to laugh at me in this way; I won't -endure it." - -"Come, no temper," rejoined the young journeyman; "I have no intention -of offending you, and when a man has arms like mine, he would be a -coward to insult a boy like you. Besides, I am not naturally unkind, and -as I told you before, if I speak frankly to you, it is because I am -inclined to like you. I feel that you have a mind superior to mine, -which attracts and charms me. But I also feel that you have a weak -character and a wild imagination. If you have more intelligence and more -refinement, I have more common sense and experience. Do not take my -reflections in bad part. You have no friends among us as yet, and you -could already reckon more than one enmity prepared to break out, if you -should incline to see what is going on around you. I may be able to be -of service to you in some way, and if you listen to my warning, you will -avoid many vexations which you do not foresee. Come, Michel, do you -scorn me, and reject my friendship?" - -"On the contrary, I request it," replied Michel, moved and completely -conquered by Magnani's frankness; "and I propose to show myself worthy -of it by justifying myself. I know nothing, I believe nothing, I think -nothing of the princess. For the first time in my life I see so great a -lady at close quarters, and ----. But why do you smile?" - -"You stop to ask about my smile to avoid finishing your sentence. I will -finish it for you. You find that a great lady is something divine, and -you fall madly in love with her. You love grandeur! I understood that -perfectly the first time I saw you." - -"No, no!" cried Michel, "I have not fallen in love; I do not know this -woman, and, as for her grandeur, I do not know in what it consists. You -might as well say that I am in love with her palace, her dress, or her -diamonds, for thus far I have seen no other signs of superiority, except -excellent taste, in which we assist her materially, it seems to me, as -well as her jeweller and her dressmaker." - -"As you know nothing more of her, that is well said," rejoined Magnani; -"but in that case will you explain to me why you nearly fainted when you -kissed her hand?" - -"Do you explain it to me, if you can; for my part, I have no idea. I -knew that ladies had a way of using their eyes which was bolder than -that of a courtesan, and at the same time more contemptuous than that of -a nun. Yes, I had noticed that; and that blending of seduction and pride -drove me wild when I happened, against my will, to touch elbows with any -of them in a crowd. And that is why I hated great ladies. But this one -has a glance which resembles no other woman's. I could not undertake to -say whether it is voluptuous languor or good-humored torpor; but no -woman ever looked at me so, and ---- what can you expect, Magnani? I am -young and impressionable, and it gave me the vertigo; that is all. I am -not intoxicated with vanity, I swear, for I am perfectly certain that -she would have looked at you in the same way if chance had placed your -face before her instead of mine." - -"I don't believe it," replied Magnani, pensively. - -He had dropped his hammer and seated himself on a bench. He seemed to be -struggling painfully to solve a problem. - -"Ah! young men!" exclaimed old Pier-Angelo, as he passed them; "you are -chattering and not working; only the old men know how to work fast." - -Touched by the rebuke, Michel hastened to assist his father, after -whispering to his new friend that they would resume their conversation -later. - -"Your best course," said Magnani, in an undertone, with a strange -expression, "will be to think as little as possible about it." - -Michel loved his father fervently, and with good reason. Pier-Angelo was -a man of spirit, of courage, and of sound sense. An artist in his way, -he followed the good old traditions in his work, and was not irritated -by the innovations that he saw all about him. On the contrary, he very -quickly assimilated such progressive ideas as he was made to understand. -He was an easy-going, jovial mortal, optimistic in general, tolerant in -particular cases, almost never ascribing evil intentions, but never -paltering with them when it was no longer possible for him to entertain -his generous illusions. A straightforward, simple, unselfish soul, -content with little, entertained by everything, loving work for himself, -and money for others, that is to say, living from day to day, and unable -to deny his neighbor anything. - -Providence had given the impulsive Michel the only guide he could ever -have accepted; for that young man was entirely different from his father -in several respects. He was restless, suspicious, slightly egotistical, -with a decided tendency toward ambition, instability and anger. And yet -his also was a noble nature, because it was sincerely in love with the -noble and the great, and surrendered enthusiastically when its -confidence was justified. But it is beyond question that his temperament -was less happy than it might have been, that his active and inquisitive -intellect often fed upon itself; and that his sensitive and excitable -mind sometimes made a desperate onslaught on the tranquillity of his -heart. - -If a rough hand, the heavy hand of a mechanic desperately bent upon -money-making, or subject to all the jealous indignation peculiar to the -republican spirit, had undertaken to mould young Michel's mobile nature -and discontented mind, it would have driven them to exasperation and -would speedily have shattered or destroyed them. The improvident and -cheerful temper of Pier-Angelo had acted as a counterpoise and sedative -upon his passionate instincts. He rarely talked the language of cold -reason to him, and never thwarted his fickle inclinations. But the -fearless heedlessness of certain natures has a sympathetic effect which -makes us blush for our weaknesses, and acts upon us more powerfully by -example, by precepts nobly and simply put in execution, than all the -speeches and sermons in the world could do. It was by this means that -Pier-Angelo, while seeming to accede to Michel's desires and caprices, -still exerted the only ascendancy to which he could have been induced to -submit. - - - - -VIII - -THE INTRUDER - - -Once more, when he saw his father doing the work of two, Michel was -ashamed of his absent-mindedness, and hastened to assist him. There was -still a temporary staircase to be erected at one side of the ball-room, -to communicate with a gallery on the floor above, and afford the -anticipated crowd an additional artery of circulation. - -They could already hear numerous carriages rumbling in the distance over -that magnificent street which is proudly called the _Ætnean Road_, and -which passes through Catania in a straight line, from the water's edge -to the foot of Ætna; as if, to quote a traveller, "the people who had -erected their superb palaces along that road had intended to afford the -angry volcano a way befitting its majesty." - -At critical moments, when the time is too short, when the hours seem -rather to gallop than to walk, when human forces are at odds with the -impossible in some feverish toil, very few men are endowed with -sufficient strength of will to retain the hope of triumphing at last. At -such moments it is simply a matter of quadrupling one's own faculties -and performing a miracle. Most of the workmen were utterly discouraged -and proposed to abandon that temporary structure and to conceal the -opening with flowers and pictures; in short, to inflict upon the -organizers of the fête the unpleasant surprise of a departure from -their plans. Pier-Angelo revived the courage of those who seemed -well-disposed, and set to work. Michel performed prodigies in the way of -assisting them; and in ten minutes, the task which it was said would -take two hours was completed as if by magic. - -"Michel," then said the old man, wiping his head, which was bald to the -base of the skull, "I am satisfied with you, and I see that you are a -good workman; which, in my eyes, is an indispensable qualification for -any man who wishes to become a great artist. Everyone cannot work fast, -and most of those who make haste do bad work. We must not despise them -for that. In the ordinary course of affairs all work requires coolness, -calculation, orderly management, foresight, in short, common sense--yes, -even in loading a cart with stones, there are a thousand ways of going -about it and only one right way. One man will take too many on his -shovel, another not enough; one lifts his arm too high and throws the -stones over the cart, another doesn't lift it high enough and throws -them among the wheels. Have you never compared one thing with another -and reflected, as you watched the simple work of the fields? Have you -seen men digging? In that, as in everything else, there is one good -workman to twenty bunglers. And who can say that the man who does as -much work with the spade as four others, without tiring himself out and -without losing a second, is not a superior man, who would do more -difficult things admirably? Tell me, what do you think about it? For my -part, I have always had that thought in my mind, and by watching the -girls picking strawberries on the mountain, I can pick out the one who -will best manage her house and bring up her children someday. Do you -think I am talking nonsense? Answer me." - -"I think that you are right, father," Michel replied, with a smile; "to -work quickly and well, one must combine presence of mind with an ardent -will; he must have fever in his blood and a clear head. He must be able -to think and act simultaneously. No, that power certainly is not given -to everyone; and it is a painful thing to see so many feeble and -incompetent organizations in proportion to the small number of placid -and powerful ones. Alas! I am alarmed for myself, notwithstanding the -praise you have just given me, for I rarely feel in that powerful and -productive humor, and if I was in that humor just now, I owe it to your -example." - -"No, no, Michel, no example is of any use to the impotent. Poor -creatures! they do what they can, and that is an excellent reason why -those who are stronger and more capable should make it their duty to -relieve them. Do you not feel glad and proud to have done it?" - -"You are right, father! you can find the noble and praiseworthy aspect -of my instincts better than I can myself. Ah! Pier-Angelo, you do not -know how to read, and you have had me taught a thousand things that you -do not know. And yet you are the light of my mind, and, at every step I -take, I feel that you are helping to open a blind man's eyes." - -"That is well said!" cried honest Pier-Angelo, with artless joy. "I wish -that could be written down. It reminded me of when the actors recite -noble sentences on the stage. Let us see, how did you say it? repeat it -for me. You called me by my name, as if I were not here, and you were -thinking aloud of your old friend. Oh! I love fine words, that I do! -_Pier-Angelo, you do not know how to write_--you began so. And then you -compared yourself to a blind man whose light I was--I, a poor ignorant -fellow, whose heart sees clear for you, Michel, none the less. I wish I -could write poetry in pure Tuscan; but I only know how to improvise in -my Sicilian dialect, in which, provided you rhyme in _i_ and _u_ you can -always succeed in producing something that resembles poetry. If I could -I would write a beautiful ballad about the love and modesty of a son who -attributes to his old simpleton of a father all that he discovers about -himself; a ballad! there is nothing in the world more perfect than a -good ballad. I know a great many of them, but there are very few with -which I am perfectly satisfied. I would like to be able to supply -something that is lacking in them all. That reminds me that I shall have -to sing to-night at supper. Hum! after swallowing such a lot of dust! -but there will be plenty of good wine for the workmen to drink. Don't -you mean to come? Evidently you don't like to drink with everybody. -Perhaps you are right. They say that you are proud; but, on the other -hand, you are sober and dignified. You must do what suits you. After -all, it's of no use for you to talk, you will never be a simple mechanic -like me, whatever you may do. You help me at my work now, and that is -well done. But once our little debts are paid, you will return to Rome, -for I propose that you shall continue the noble studies that attract you -so." - -"Ah! father, every word you say goes to my heart. Our little debts! it -was I who contracted them, not only for useful studies, but for foolish -diversions and insane, childish vanities. And when I think that each -year I pass at Rome costs you the whole avails of your toil!" - -"Even so! for whom should I earn money, if not for my son?" - -"But you rob yourself!" - -"Of nothing at all. I find friendship and confidence wherever I am -employed; and except a little good wine, which is an old man's milk, and -which is neither scarce nor dear in our blessed climate, thank God! I -need nothing. What does a man of my age require? Must I think of the -future? Your sister is industrious; she will find a good husband. Is not -my present lot what my lot will be to my last hour? There is nothing new -for me to learn which I can put to any use. Why should I hoard money? to -hoard it for your maturer years would be absurd; it would simply be -depriving your youth of the means of developing and making sure of the -future." - -"Alas! it is the thought of your future that terrifies me, father! An -old man's future is loss of strength, infirmity, neglect, destitution! -And suppose all your sacrifices were wasted! Suppose I should prove to -be devoid of virtue, intelligence, courage, talent! Suppose I should not -succeed in making my fortune, in finding a good husband for my sister, -and in assuring your comfort and security in your old age!" - -"Nonsense! nonsense! it is insulting Providence to doubt yourself when -you are conscious of being disposed to do what is right. Besides, let us -put everything in the worst light, and you will see that nothing is -lost. I will assume that you are simply an ordinary artist; you will -still earn your living, and as you do not lack wit, you will know how to -be contented with such pleasures as are within your reach. You will do -like me, who, although I have never been rich, have never considered -myself poor, because my wants have never exceeded my resources. That is -a philosophy with which you are not familiar as yet, because you are at -the age of expansive desires and expansive hopes; but it will come to -you if your plans fail. Mind you, I do not admit that they can fail. -That is why I do not preach moderation to you now. Power is still -better. The man who aims true at the ring with his lance is drunk with -joy. He carries off the prize, and congratulates himself on having had -the courage to compete. But he who has broken several lances with no -result goes away saying: 'My luck is bad; I will not try again.' And he -too is pleased that he has profited by experience and has had the -courage to read himself a salutary lesson. But the evening breeze dries -the perspiration on my old forehead a little too quickly; I am going to -the pantry to eat and drink. As there is nothing more for you to do -here, you may as well get our tools together and go home." - -"And when will you come home, father?" - -"Ah! Michel, I don't know when or how! it will depend on how much I -enjoy the supper. You know that I am very sober, generally speaking, and -drink only to quench my thirst; but if they lead me on to laugh and -sing, and chatter, I get excited and have paroxysms of merriment and -poetic enthusiasm which carry me off to the moon; and then it's of no -use to talk to me about going to bed. Don't be anxious about me. I shall -not fall down in a corner, I am not a beastly sot; my drunkenness is -that of brilliant minds, on the contrary, and I never act more -reasonably than when I am a little mad; that is to say, I shall be at -work again here at daylight to-morrow, to assist in undoing all we have -done this week, and I shall be less tired than if I had passed the night -in my bed." - -"You must despise me for being unable to find in wine the superhuman -strength that it gives you!" - -"You have never cared to try!" cried the old man; and he added -instantly: "and you have done well! because at your age it is an -unnecessary stimulant. Ah! when I was young the lightest glance from a -woman would have given me more strength than the whole of the princess's -cellar would give me at this moment! Well, good-night, my boy." - -As he spoke, Pier-Angelo started up the wooden staircase he had helped -to put in place, for he and his son had been talking in the garden, -where he had thrown himself on the turf to recover his breath. Michel -detained him, and, instead of leaving him, said with inexplicable -emotion: - -"Father, are you entitled to remain at the ball after the invited guests -have arrived?" - -"Why, surely," replied Pier-Angelo, surprised by the young man's manner. -"Several of us were selected from each branch of trade, about a hundred -men in all, to see that nothing goes wrong during the festivity. In the -midst of so much commotion, a board may give way, or a piece of canvas -get loose and take fire from the candles; a thousand accidents always -have to be guarded against, and a certain number of tried arms always -kept in readiness to repair them. We may have nothing to do; and in that -case we shall pass the night merrily at table; but, whatever happens, we -are at hand. Moreover, we have the right to go everywhere, in order to -have an eye upon everything and to prevent fire, confusion, the bad -smell from the candles that go out, the fall of a picture, a chandelier, -a vase, heaven knows what! We are always wanted, and we make a circuit -of the rooms, turn and turn about, if for nothing more than to prevent -pickpockets from creeping in." - -"And you are paid to do this servant's work?" - -"We are paid if we choose. To those who do it purely from good-will the -princess always makes some acceptable present, and for old friends like -me she always has a pleasant word and some delicate little attention. -And then, even if it brought me in nothing, isn't it my duty to place my -foresight, my activity, and my loyalty at the service of a woman whom I -esteem as much as I esteem her? I have no need of her assistance as yet; -but I have seen how she helps those who get into difficulty, and I know -that she would dress my wounds with her own hands if I were wounded." - -"Yes, yes, I know all about that," rejoined Michel, gloomily; -"benevolence, charity, pity, alms-giving!" - -"Come, come! Master Pier-Angelo," said a valet, who passed them at that -moment, "it is time to change your clothes. Take off your apron, the -guests are arriving; go to the dressing-room, or to the buffet first, if -you like." - -"True," said Pier-Angelo, "we are a little untidy to rub elbows with -such beautiful gowns. Farewell, Michel, I am going to beautify myself. -Go home and rest." - -Michel glanced at his own clothes, which were soiled and torn in a -thousand places. His pride returned; he slowly descended the steps -leading to the main ball-room and walked across it, amid the resplendent -groups which were beginning to appear. A young man who entered as Michel -was going out jostled him roughly. Michel was on the point of flying -into a rage; but he restrained himself when he saw that the young man in -question was as distraught as he. - -He was a youth of some twenty-five years, of small stature and with a -most attractive face. And yet, both in his face and bearing there was -something peculiar which attracted Michel's attention, although he could -not explain to his own satisfaction why he should take an interest in -the stranger. It is certain, however, that there must have been -something unusual about him, for the door-keeper to whom he had handed -his card of admission glanced several times from him to the card and -from the card to him, as if he wished to make sure that it was all -right. He had not taken three steps into the room when other people -turned their eyes upon him as if by virtue of a contagious impulse, and -Michel, still standing by the door, heard a lady say to the gentleman -who escorted her: - -"Who is that man? I do not know him." - -"Nor do I," was the reply; "but what do you expect? In a company so -numerous as this is likely to be, do you fancy that you will not meet -many strange faces?" - -"Of course, I expect to," replied the lady, "and we shall see, in this -ball for which anyone can buy a ticket, a mixture that will amuse us. To -begin with, I am amused by this person who has just come in, and has -stopped short under the first chandelier, as if he were looking for his -road through this huge room. Just look at him! it is very curious; he's -a handsome fellow!" - -"Really, you are very much engrossed by that youth," said her escort, -who, whether lover or husband, knew Sicilian womankind by heart. And so, -instead of looking at the man to whom his attention was directed, he -looked behind, to see whether, while his attention was attracted in one -direction, someone on the other side did not hand her a note or exchange -a meaning glance with her. But, whether because she was really virtuous, -or by mere chance, she was sincere at that moment and looked at no one -but the stranger. - -Michel did not go away, and yet he had ceased to think of the reckless -youth who had jostled him; he had espied, at the end of the ball-room, a -white dress and a coronet of diamonds which twinkled like pale stars. He -had seen the princess only an instant, and there were many other women -at the ball in white dresses, many other diadems of precious stones. -However, he was not mistaken as to her identity, and he could not take -his eyes from her. - -The lady and gentleman who had noticed the arrival of the unknown young -man walked away, and Michel heard other voices at his side. - -"I have seen that face somewhere, I don't know where," said a lady. - -A pale, lovely young woman, who was walking with the last speaker, -exclaimed, in a tone which aroused Michel from his reverie: - -"Ah! great God! what a resemblance!" - -"Why! what is the matter, my dear?" - -"Nothing; a memory, a resemblance; but it is not the same----" - -"What are you talking about, pray?" - -"I will tell you later. First of all, look at that man." - -"That short young man? I certainly don't know him." - -"Nor do I; but he bears a most appalling resemblance to a man who----" - -Michel heard no more; the beautiful young woman had lowered her voice as -she walked on. - -Who could that man be who had just come in, and who already produced -such a marked sensation? Michel looked at him and saw that he was -retracing his steps as if he intended to go out; but he halted in front -of him and said in a voice as soft as a woman's: "My friend, will you be -kind enough to tell me which of all the ladies who are already here is -Princess Agatha de Palmarosa?" - -"I have no idea," replied Michel, impelled by an instinctive feeling of -distrust and jealousy. - -"Then you do not know her?" queried the stranger. - -"No, signor," replied Michel, dryly. - -The stranger entered the ball-room and plunged into the crowd, which was -rapidly increasing. Michel looked after him and observed something -peculiar in his carriage. Although he was dressed in the height of -fashion, and with an elaborateness which bordered on bad taste, he -seemed ill at ease in his clothes, like a man who had never before worn -a black coat and close-fitting breeches. And yet there was in his manner -a something haughty and distinguished which did not denote the petty -bourgeois in his Sunday garb. - -As Michel turned to go away at last, he saw that the halberdier who was -guarding the door was equally engrossed by the stranger's appearance. - -"I don't know," he was saying to Barbagallo, the majordomo, who had just -accosted him, apparently to question him; "I know a peasant who looks -like him, but it isn't the man." - -A third retainer came up and said: - -"That must be the Greek prince who arrived yesterday, or one of his -escort." - -"Or else some follower of the Egyptian envoy," said the halberdier. - -"Or else," added Barbagallo, "some Levantine merchant. When those people -leave off their native costume and dress in the European style, you -can't recognize them. Did he buy his ticket at the door? You mustn't -allow anybody to do that." - -"He had his ticket in his hand; I saw him present it all open, and the -door-keeper said: 'Her Highness's signature.'" - -Michel had not listened to this discussion; he was already well on his -way to Catania. - -He returned to his humble abode and sat down on his bed; but he forgot -to lie down. As he threw back his hair, the weight of which made his -forehead hot, he saw a small flower fall. It was a white cyclamen -blossom. How had it broken off and clung to his hair? There was no -reason for much surprise or uneasiness. The place where he had worked -and hustled about, gone hither and thither a thousand times, was so -thickly strewn with flowers of all sorts. - -But Michel did not remember that. He simply remembered the enormous -bouquet of cyclamen which the Princess of Palmarosa carried when he had -stooped tremblingly and kissed her hand. He put the flower to his lips; -it exhaled an intoxicating odor. He took his head in both hands. It -seemed to him that he was going mad. - - - - -IX - -MILA - - -The mental disturbance which our young painter experienced at that -moment was due to two causes, one an absurd sort of jealousy, which had -taken possession of him like an attack of fever, with respect to -Princess Agatha; the other, a feeling of disquiet, because he had failed -to obtain that noble person's approval of his paintings. Of course it -was not mere love of gain, the desire to be paid more or less -handsomely, which worked upon him thus. So long as he had been engrossed -by the fever of production, he had given very little thought to the -subject of the signora's personal opinion; he had thought only of -succeeding, of satisfying himself; then, having almost succeeded in his -own eyes, and having not as yet seen his mysterious patroness, he had -wondered, with more hope than alarm, whether he should find enough -enlightened judges in that province to establish his reputation upon an -undertaking of that sort. In short, he had had so much to do up to the -last moment that he had not had time to analyze his anxiety. - -When he was quite alone, he found that he was strangely disturbed by the -knowledge that people were passing judgment on his work, and that he -could not be there. What prevented him? No orders related to his humble -position in society, but a poignant false shame, which he did not feel -the strength to overcome. - -And yet Michel was not cowardly, either as a man or as an artist. -Despite his youth he had already reflected deeply concerning his future -prospects, and he had already reviewed concisely enough the list of -successes and reverses connected with his destiny. Feeling that he was -seized with faint-heartedness at the outset, he was surprised, and tried -to fight against himself. But the more he questioned himself, the more -fully he recognized his weakness, but would not avow its cause. -Therefore we will give the reader that information. - -At the bottom of this depression and alarm there lay a feeling of -uncertainty as to the opinion the princess had formed concerning him. -Pier-Angelo had told him that morning that during Sunday her highness -had inspected the ball-room; but that, as he was not present, he did not -know what she had said. Master Barbagallo, being in ill-humor because of -the numerous vexations attendant upon the fête, had spoken very coldly -to him on the subject, but had not said that the princess seemed -dissatisfied or that she criticised anything. Whereupon honest -Pier-Angelo had added, with his usual confidence: "Never fear, she knows -what is what. It is impossible that she should not be satisfied beyond -what she expected." Michel had surrendered to that confidence without -paying much heed to the question whether it was justified. He had said -to himself that, even if the princess were not a connoisseur, there -would soon be enough connoisseurs about her to guide her judgment. - -Moreover, he was afraid of everybody now because he was afraid of the -princess. She had looked at him in a way that had completely upset him; -but she had said nothing to him; not a word of praise or encouragement -had accompanied that glance, which was more than kind, it is true, but -for that very reason incomprehensible. And suppose he had been mistaken -touching the expression of her face! suppose that, when she thus fixed -her lovely, joy-laden eyes upon him, she was thinking of some entirely -different person--her lover, perhaps, for she must have a lover, -whatever Magnani might say! - -At the bare idea Michel felt faint and sick; he fancied that he saw the -princess leaning on the arm of the fortunate mortal for whose sake she -pretended to entertain no thought of marriage. They were glancing -absently at the young painter's work, and smiling as they looked into -each other's eyes, as if to say: - -"What does it matter to us? nothing is beautiful, nothing exists for us, -except ourselves." - -Weary of suffering so entirely without reason, Michel thought to conquer -and tranquillize himself by adopting a superb resolution. - -"I will go to bed," he said to himself, "and sleep like a prince, like a -hero, while people are criticising me, disputing and perhaps getting -excited about me in yonder palace. To-morrow morning, father will come -and wake me, and tell me whether I have won the laurel wreath or have -been hissed. What does it matter to me, after all?" - -It mattered so little to him, in very truth, that, instead of -undressing, he dressed to go to the ball. In a most extraordinary fit of -abstraction, he arranged his beautiful hair, which would have been a bit -too long for a strictly fashionable patrician, but which formed a -beautiful frame for his intelligent and impassioned face. He removed -with the greatest care all traces of toil; he donned his finest linen -and his best clothes; and when he had glanced at his little mirror, he -decided, and with good reason, that no guest at the princess's ball -would present a more distinguished figure than he. - -Having thus prepared for bed, he left the house, and when he had taken -ten steps out of doors, he discovered that an inexplicable preoccupation -was leading him in the direction of the Palmarosa palace. Indignant with -himself, he returned, took off his coat, tossed it on the bed, opened -his window and sat beside it, torn between the heroic determination to -retire and the irresistible temptation to go and witness the fête. - -The countless lights of the palace twinkled before his eyes, the notes -of the orchestra reached his ears through the echoing night. Carriages -were rolling in all directions; no one was asleep in the city or the -outlying country. Indeed, it was not nine o'clock, and Michel felt -little inclined to sleep. He closed his window and started to take up a -book; but the cyclamen, which he had tossed upon the table in an -outburst of anger against himself, was the only object within his reach. - -Thereupon it seemed to him that, through the delicate and penetrating -odor of musk exhaled by the pink-tipped petals of that pretty little -flower, he saw palpable images take shape and gather about him. Women, -lights, flowers, gushing waters, diamonds with a bluish gleam; and with -the things which seemed real, fanciful things were mingled as in a -dream. Lovely dancing-girls of antique times, whom Michel had painted on -the ceiling, stood forth gracefully from the canvas, and, raising their -azure and purple tunics above their knees, glided through the crowd, and -cast upon him as they passed lewd glances and mysterious smiles. Drunk -with desire, he followed them, and lost them, and found them again, -seizing one by her floating girdle, another by her transparent _peplum_, -but exhausting himself in vain efforts, in vain entreaties, to detain -them and give them substance. - -Then a white female passed slowly and took sole possession of his -vagrant passion. She stopped in front of him and gazed at him, at first -with stony eyes, which gradually became animated and ended by flashing -flames, whereby he felt that he was being consumed. Lying motionless at -her feet, he saw her stoop over him. He fancied that he felt her breath -upon his brow; but instantly the giddy band of Latin harlots entangled -him in a network of multi-colored tunics and whirled him upward toward -the ceiling. Then he found himself alone on his ladder, smeared with -paint, covered with dirt, exhausted, gasping for breath, in a ghastly -solitude, dimly lighted by a vague gleam of daylight. Silence hovered -over the cold, deserted rooms; naught remained of his vision save a -little broken flower, whose fragrance he had exhausted by inhaling it. - -This hallucination became so painful that Michel, in terror, pushed the -cyclamen away once more, thinking that there must be something soporific -or poisonous in its exhalations. But he could not make up his mind to -destroy it. He placed it in a glass of water and opened his window -again. - -"Why suffer thus without reason and without any object?" he said to -himself; "is it a woman's glance, or the distant view of a great fête, -that makes my disordered imagination run riot thus? Very well! if the -mad creature is untamable, let her have her way; doubtless the spectacle -of what really is will either extinguish her frenzy or furnish it with -fresh food. I shall either become calm, or suffer in some new way; what -does it matter!" - -"What is the trouble, that you are talking to yourself so, Michel?" said -a soft voice, while at the same time the door of his little chamber -opened behind him. And Michel, turning his head, saw his little sister -Mila, who approached him on tiptoe, with bare feet and her body wrapped -in a _piddemia_--a brown cloak worn by the women of the people. - -No one in the world was so pretty, so sweet, and so lovable as Mila. -Michel had always loved her dearly. And yet her appearance at that -moment caused him some vexation. - -"What are you doing here, little one?" he said; "why aren't you asleep?" - -"Asleep already!" she said, "when I hear carriages rumbling through the -streets and see the princess's palace shining yonder like a star? Oh! I -cannot sleep! Our father made me promise to go to bed as usual, and not -to go running about the palace with the other girls, to try to look at -the fête through the open doors. So I went to bed, and although those -violins, which you can hear from here, made my heart beat time, I was -determined to go to sleep, when my friend Nenna came and asked me to go -with her." - -"And you mean to go, Mila? to disobey your father? to loiter about that -house, which is all surrounded by servants, beggars and vagabonds, with -a hare-brained creature like Nenna? You shall not do it, I forbid you!" - -"Oh! you needn't put on those high and mighty paternal airs, my dear -brother," retorted Mila, in an offended tone. "Do you suppose I am mad -enough to listen to Nenna? I sent her away; she is a long way from here, -and I was going to sleep again when I heard you walking about and -talking. I thought father was with you; but I saw through the crack of -the door that you were alone, and then ----" - -"Then you came in here to chatter, in order to avoid going to sleep, -eh?" - -"It is true that I have no desire to go to bed so early, and father -didn't forbid me to listen and look on from a distance at what is going -on up there! Oh! how beautiful it must be! You can see much better from -your window than from mine, Michel; do let me feast my eyes on that -beautiful bright light!" - -"No, little one. The wind is cool to-night, and you have almost no -clothes on. I am going to shut the window and go to bed. Go and do the -same; good-night." - -"You are going to bed; and have just dressed yourself! what did you do -it for, pray? Michel, you are deceiving me, you are going to see the -ball, you are going in! I will bet that you are invited, and that you -won't tell me so!" - -"Invited! they don't invite people like us to such grand affairs, my -poor dear! When we enter that palace, we go as workmen, not as friends." - -"What difference does that make, so long as you're there? Then you are -going? Oh! how I would like to be in your place!" - -"Why, what is the meaning of this frantic desire to see this fête?" - -"To see what is beautiful, Michel, isn't that all? When you draw a -beautiful figure, I take more pleasure in looking at it, perhaps, than -you do who drew it." - -"But if you were there, it would be on condition that you were hidden in -some hole, for if they saw you, they would turn you out; you could not -even show yourself, much less dance!" - -"Very true; but I should see the others dance, and that would be much." - -"You are a child. Good-night." - -"I see that you aren't willing to take me!" - -"No, surely not; I can't. They would turn you out, and I should have to -break the head of some insolent lackey for insulting you when you were -on my arm." - -"What! isn't there some little corner no bigger than your hand, where I -could hide? I am so small! Look, Michel, I could get into your cupboard. -Anyway, you could take me to the door without taking me in, and father -would not be angry to know that I was there with you." - -Michel preached a beautiful sermon to Mila on the subject of childish -curiosity, and the violent instinctive longing which she felt to -intoxicate herself with the spectacle of patrician grandeur. He forgot -that he was consumed by the same longing, and that he was anxious to be -alone so that he might give way to it. - -Mila listened to reason when Michel told her that he was going to assist -his father to overlook the decorations of the ball; but she heaved a -deep sigh, none the less. - -"Well," she said, tearing herself away from the window, "it's no use to -think any more about it. However, it's my own fault; for if I had had -any idea that I should be so wild to go, I could very easily have asked -the princess to invite me." - -"Now you are going mad again, just as I thought you were becoming -reasonable, Mila! As if the princess could have invited you, even if she -had taken it into her head to do it!" - -"Why, of course she could; isn't she the mistress of her own house?" - -"Even so! what would all those ancient dowagers, all those august -blockheads say, if they should see little Mila, with her velvet jacket -and striped skirt, dancing about among their noble dolls of daughters?" - -"Let me tell you, that I might perhaps cut a better figure than all of -them, young and old!" - -"That is no reason." - -"I know that; but the princess is a queen in her house, and I will bet -that she will invite me to the first ball she chooses to give." - -"You will ask her to, I suppose?" - -"To be sure! I know her, and she is very fond of me; she is a friend of -mine." - -As she said this, Mila drew herself up and assumed an air of importance, -so comical and so fascinating that Michel laughed and kissed her. - -"I like to see, Mila," he said, "that you have no suspicion of anything. -And why should I deceive you? You will lose soon enough the trustful -illusions of your age of gold! But, since you know this beautiful -princess so well, pray tell me something about her, my dear little -sister; tell me how it happens that you are so intimately acquainted -with her, without my knowing anything about it?" - -"Aha! Michel, you are curious to know that, now! But since you have -shown so little eagerness to question me, you will kindly wait a little -longer, until it pleases me to answer you." - -"So it's a secret, is it?" - -"Perhaps! what do you care?" - -"I care very little, in truth, to know anything whatsoever concerning -this princess. She has a fine palace, I work there, she pays me, and I -care little about anything else for the moment. But nothing that -interests my little Mila can be indifferent to me, nor should it be -hidden from me, in my opinion." - -"Now you are flattering me to make me speak. Well, I will not speak, -there! But I will show you something that will make you open your eyes. -See, what do you say to this pretty thing?" - -And Mila took from her bosom a locket surrounded by large diamonds. - -"They are fine stones," she said, "and worth I don't know how much -money. Enough to provide me with a marriage portion if I chose to sell -them; but I will never part with them, because they came from my best -friend." - -"And that friend is the Princess of Palmarosa?" - -"Yes, Agatha Palmarosa; don't you see her cipher engraved on the gold of -the locket?" - -"Yes, that is true! But what is there inside this priceless trinket?" - -"Hair, lovely light chestnut hair, with a touch of gold, naturally -curly, and so fine!" said the girl, opening the locket. "Isn't it soft -and glossy?" - -"That isn't the princess's, for hers is black." - -"So you have seen her, after all?" - -"Yes, I just caught a glimpse of her. But tell me, Mila, whose hair you -wear against your heart, and in such a valuable locket?" - -"How inquisitive you are! you are blind and dull, too, like all -inquisitive people. Don't you recognize it? Don't you remember where I -got it?" - -"No, indeed, I do not." - -"Well, put it against yours and you will recognize it, although your -head has grown a little darker in a year." - -"Dear little sister! yes, I do remember now that you cut it from my head -the day you left Rome--and you have kept it all this time!" - -"I used to carry it in a little black bag. My friend Agatha asked of -what saint I carried a relic in my scapulary, and when I told her that -it was my darling and only brother's hair, she took it and said she -would send it back to me the next day; and the next day she sent me by -father this lovely locket filled with your hair. However, some of it was -missing. The jeweller who put it inside either stole it or lost it." - -"Lost it, that may be," said Michel, with a smile; "but as for stealing -it! This hair has no value to anyone but you, Mila!" - - - - -X - -PROBLEM - - -"But, after all, what is the source of this friendship of the princess -for you," continued Michel, after a pause; "what have you ever done for -her that she should make you such presents?" - -"Nothing at all. Father, who is on excellent terms with her, took me to -the palace one day to present me to her. She took a fancy to me; she -paid me all sorts of attentions; she asked me for my friendship, and I -promised it and gave it to her at once. I passed the day all alone with -her, walking about her villa and the gardens. Since then I go there when -I choose, and I am always sure of being well received." - -"And you go often?" - -"I have never been but twice, for it isn't long since I first knew her. -I know that the palace has been turned upside down this last week by the -preparations for the ball, and I was afraid of being in poor Agatha's -way when, of course, she had a thousand things to do. But I shall go in -two or three days." - -"So that is the whole of the mystery, is it? Why did you need so much -urging to tell it?" - -"Oh! because the princess said to me when I came away: 'Mila, please -don't tell anyone about the delightful day we have passed together and -the friendship we have formed. I have my reasons for asking you to keep -it secret. You shall know them later, and I know that I can rely on your -promise if you will give it to me.'--As you can imagine, Michel, I did -not refuse it." - -"Very good; but you are breaking your word now." - -"No, I am not. You are not _anybody_ to me, and, of course, the princess -didn't suppose I would have any secrets from my father or my brother." - -"Does my father know all this, then?" - -"Certainly, I told him about it at once." - -"And he was neither surprised nor disturbed by this whim of the -princess?" - -"Why surprised, please? It is your surprise that is very strange and a -little impertinent, Michel. Am I not capable of inspiring friendship, -even in a princess? And why disturbed? Is not friendship a good and -pleasant thing?" - -"Still, my child, I am, if not disturbed, at all events astonished at -this friendship. Tell me this, which may explain it in some measure. Has -our father rendered Princess Agatha some great service?" - -"He has done much beautiful decorating in the palace. He has made some -superb foliage in the dining-room among other things." - -"I have seen all that; but he is well paid. The princess has taken a -liking to him because of his zeal and disinterestedness, I suppose?" - -"Yes, that must be it. Isn't it true that anybody who knows father for a -little time loves him?" - -"That is so. Then it is because of our excellent father that you arouse -so much interest in this great lady!" - -"Oh! Michel, she isn't a great lady, I tell you! she's a good woman, a -kind, lovely woman." - -"And what could she find to say to you, my child, for a whole day?" - -"She asked me a thousand questions, about myself and father and you, -about our life in Rome, your occupations, our home life and our tastes. -I really believe that she made me tell our whole history day by day, -ever since I was born; I talked so much that I was tired out that -evening." - -"It seems that this lady is terribly inquisitive; for what does it all -matter to her?" - -"Now you mention it, I believe that she is a little inquisitive; but it -is a pleasure to answer her questions; she listens to you with so much -interest, and she is so pleasant! Come, don't speak ill of her, or I -shall be angry with you!" - -"Very well, let us say no more about her; God forbid that I should teach -you distrust and dread, my lovely angel heart! Go to bed, now; father is -waiting for me. To-morrow we will talk again of your adventure, for -surely this great friendship with a beautiful princess is a marvellous -adventure in a life like yours--although she no more thinks of you now -than of the last pair of slippers she wore. No matter! don't put on that -injured air. It may be that, some day when she is lonely and idle, the -Princess of Palmarosa will send for you, to be entertained again by your -prattle." - -"You don't know what you are saying, Michel. The princess is not idle, -and if you insist upon taking it this way, I will tell you that, -kind-hearted as she is, she has the reputation of being decidedly cold -with people of our station. Some say that she is proud, others that she -is timid. The fact is that she always speaks pleasantly and courteously -to the workmen and servants who come in contact with her, but that she -speaks to them so little, so little!--that she is noted for it, and that -some people who have worked for her for years have never known the sound -of her voice and have hardly seen her in her own house. So that her -friendship for father and me is no commonplace thing; it is genuine -friendship, and your mockery will never prevent me from relying upon it. -Good-night, Michel; I am not very well pleased with you to-night; I -never saw you with this sarcastic air before. You talk as if you meant -to say that I am only a little girl and no one can love me!" - -"That is not my thought, so far as I myself am concerned, at all events! -for, little slip of a girl as you are, I adore you!" - -"What did you say, brother? You adore me? that is a lovely word. Kiss -me." - -The child threw herself into his arms. Michel embraced her lovingly, and -as she laid her lovely brown head on his shoulder, he kissed the long -hair that fell over the girl's half uncovered back. - -But suddenly he pushed her away with a painful shudder. All the burning -thoughts that had excited his brain an hour earlier recurred to his mind -with the vividness of remorse, and it seemed to him that his lips were -no longer pure enough to bless his little sister. - -He was no sooner alone than he rushed through the door of the old house -in which he lived, without pausing to close that of his room. To tell -the truth, he paid no heed to the distance he travelled, and, still -haunted by his dreams, he fancied that he stepped directly from the -landing of his attic to the marble peristyle of the villa. And yet it -was nearly a mile from the last houses of the suburb of Catania to the -gateway of the palace. - -The first face upon which his eyes fell as he was about to enter the -ball-room was that of the stranger to whom his attention had been -attracted as he went away. The young man was walking slowly from the -room, wiping his forehead with a handkerchief trimmed with lace. Michel, -puzzled by his conduct, and wondering if it were not a woman in -disguise, resolutely accosted him. - -"Well, my friend," he said, "did you succeed in seeing Princess Agatha?" - -The stranger, who seemed absorbed by his thoughts, raised his head -abruptly, and darted at Michel a glance instinct with such inexplicable -distrust, and even malevolence, that the young painter felt a sort of -cold shiver run down his back. It was not the glance of a woman, but of -a forceful and hot-tempered man. The feeling of hostility is unfamiliar -to youthful hearts, and Michel's contracted as with a sudden pang. It -seemed to him that the stranger instinctively felt for a knife in his -gold embroidered satin waistcoat, and he followed his movements with -surprise. - -"How does it happen?" said the other, in the same soft voice, in marked -contrast to his angry, threatening manner, "that you were a mechanic a -short time ago, and that now you are a gentleman?" - -"The fact is that I am neither one nor the other," replied Michel, with -a smile; "I am an artist employed in the palace. Do you feel more at -ease? my question seems to have disturbed you greatly. However, one -question deserves another. Did you not ask me one without knowing me?" - -"Do you mean to jest, signor?" retorted the stranger, who spoke in -excellent Italian, without any accent to justify the Greek or Egyptian -antecedents suggested by Barbagallo. - -"Not in the least," replied Michel, "and, as for my accosting you, pray -pardon an impulsive exhibition of curiosity entirely free from -malevolent intention." - -"Curiosity! why curiosity?" rejoined the unknown, clenching his teeth -and crowding his words together in peculiarly Sicilian fashion. - -"Faith! I have no idea," replied Michel. "We have had enough discussion -over a thoughtless word; I had no purpose of offending you. If your -displeasure continues, do not look about for pretexts to begin a -quarrel, for I have no intention of avoiding it." - -"Are not you the one who seeks to quarrel with me?" rejoined the -stranger, with a glance more threatening than the first. - -"On my word, signor, you are mad," said Michel, with a shrug. - -"You are right," retorted the unknown, "for I stand here listening to -the idle talk of a fool." - -The words had no sooner passed his lips than Michel rushed at him with a -sudden determination to strike him. But, fearing lest he might strike a -woman, for the stranger's sex still seemed to him very doubtful, he -paused; and he congratulated himself when he saw that problematical -personage turn upon his heel and vanish so quickly that Michel could not -determine in what direction he had gone, and concluded that he had been -dreaming again. - -"Surely I am beset by phantoms to-night," he said to himself. But as -soon as he found himself in presence of real mortals, he recovered the -notion of reality. He was asked for his card of admission. He gave his -name. - -"Ah! Michel," said the door-keeper, "I did not know you. How fine you -are! You look like an invited guest. Go in, my boy, and pay close -attention to the lights. The pretty stuff that you have hung over our -heads would take fire so quickly! It seems that you are coming in for a -deal of praise. Everybody says that the figures are done by a master -hand." - -Michel was offended at being addressed thus familiarly by a servant, -offended at being assigned to the duties of fireman, and secretly -delighted nevertheless at having obtained a triumph which was already -the talk of the antechamber. - -He glided into the crowd, hoping to pass through unnoticed and to reach -some secluded corner where he could see and hear at his ease; but there -were so many people in the great ball-room that they brushed against one -another and trod on one another's feet. He was carried to the other end -of the vast structure before he realized the impetus that the compact -mass had imparted to him; and thus he arrived at the foot of the great -staircase. Not until then was he able to stop, gasping for breath, and -open his eyes, nostrils, ears, and mind, to the enchanting spectacle of -the fête. - -Being somewhat above the flower-bedecked benches, he could see at a -glance both the dances in progress about the fountains, and the -spectators who jostled and squeezed one another to watch the dances. The -noise and glare and commotion were well adapted to dazzle and bewilder -a more mature brain than Michel's. What an array of lovely women, -marvellous jewels, white shoulders and resplendent head-dresses! What -majestic or alluring charms! What merriment, feigned or genuine! What -airs of languor, counterfeited or ill dissembled! - -Michel was intoxicated for an instant; but when his eyes began to see -more clearly and to separate the countless details of the scene,--when -he asked himself which of all those women would be, in his mind, an -ideal model,--he looked up at the ideal figures he had painted in the -ceiling, and was better satisfied, vain-glorious youth, with his own -work than with God's. - -He had dreamed of perfect beauty. He believed that he had found it in -the creations of his brush. He was probably mistaken; for it is -impossible to create a divine image without giving it human features, -and nothing on earth is blessed with absolute perfection. However that -may have been, Michel, still faltering and awkward in his art in several -respects, had approached as nearly as possible to perfect beauty in his -types. That was what impressed all those who examined his work; above -all, that was what impressed him when he sought among real persons the -personification of his ideas. Among the whole number he saw only two or -three women who seemed truly beautiful, and even those two or three he -would have liked to hold against his canvas, in order to take away from -one or give to another a certain outline or a certain coloring, wherein -they seemed to him to lack fullness or purity. - -He was perfectly cool,--cool as an artist analyzing a figure,--and he -realized that the human countenance made up for its shortcomings in the -way of perfection of feature solely by the expression of life. - -"I have drawn more beautiful faces," he said to himself, "but they are -not true. They do not think, they do not breathe, they do not love. It -would be better that they should be less beautiful and more animate. -When I roll up these canvases to-morrow, I will destroy them all, and -then I will change them, and, it may be, overturn all the ideas which -have guided me hitherto." - -And he abandoned the quest for ideal perfection of form among the living -dancers whom he was studying, to watch their movements, their grace, the -attitudes of the body, the expression of the glance and smile; in a -word, the secret of life. - -Enchanted at first, he felt that he grew cold once more as he analyzed -each being by itself. In all probability there are many ingenuous souls -among women and among men; but there are very few ingenuous faces to be -found at a ball in fashionable society. People there assume expressions -which are almost always at variance with their characters, whether they -are seeking to attract or to shun attention. Michel fancied that he -could see that some were hypocritically concealing their vanity, while -others arrogantly flaunted it; that this girl, who desired to seem -amorous, was cold and blasé; that the gayety of that other was dismal, -and the melancholy of a third a pretence. A parvenu strove to assume the -air of a man of noble birth; a noble strove to adopt the bearing of a -man of the people. Everybody posed more or less. The most humble tried -to seem self-possessed, and even touching timidity struggled to avoid -the awkwardness which triumphed over its efforts. - -Michel saw several young mechanics of his acquaintance pass. They were -performing the duties which they had undertaken, and they attracted -attention by their manly appearance and by a touch of picturesqueness in -their holiday attire. The majordomo had evidently selected them from -among the most _presentable_, and they were well aware of it; for they, -too, posed artlessly: one put forward each shoulder in turn to display -its enormous breadth; another made the most of every inch of his great -stature as he passed many a diminutive great personage; a third elevated -the arch of his eyebrows to show the fair dames an eye as bright as a -carbuncle. - -Michel was surprised to see those honest fellows transform themselves -so, and sacrifice the advantages of their natural dignity or their -attractive exterior by an affectation, perhaps involuntary, but -certainly ridiculous.--"I knew," he thought, "that all men eagerly -sought approbation, to whatever class or profession they might belong. -But why does this craving to attract attention suddenly deprive us of -the charm or the dignity of our manners? Can it be that the desire is -over-eager, or that the object is contemptible? Must beauty necessarily -be unconscious of itself in order to lose nothing of its splendor? Or am -I alone endowed with this intolerable clearness of vision? Where is the -intense enjoyment that I expected to find here? Instead of following -with interest the actions of other people, I am exerting myself to pass -judgment in cold blood on everything that meets my eye, and to deprive -myself of any external enjoyment!" - -By dint of watching so closely and making so many comparisons, Michel -had forgotten the main object of his presence at the ball. He remembered -at last that he was especially desirous to study calmly a certain -figure, and he was about to ascend the great staircase and wander about -the interior of the palace, where all the rooms were open and lighted, -When, happening to turn his head, he saw close at hand a detail of the -decorations of which he had forgotten to observe the effect. - -It was a rockwork grotto, which formed a recess of considerable size -under the staircase. He had himself decorated with shellwork, branches -of coral and picturesque plants, that cool retreat, at the farther end -of which an alabaster naiad poured water from her urn into a huge shell, -always brimming full of clear running water. - -The taste Michel had displayed in all the details entrusted to him had -induced the majordomo to allow him to arrange many things as he chose; -and as this naiad had impressed him as a charming creation, he had taken -pleasure in placing in her grotto the prettiest vases, the daintiest -garlands and the finest rugs. He had spent a full hour surrounding the -mother-of-pearl shell with a border of moss, as fine and soft as velvet, -in selecting and arranging in graceful and charming disorder bunches of -iris and water-lilies, and those long ribbon-like leaves which harmonize -so perfectly with the undulating movement of running water. - -Now the grotto was lighted by a pale light concealed behind the foliage; -and as everybody was intent upon watching the dance, the entrance was -unobstructed. Michel entered stealthily; but he had not taken three -steps when he saw a person seated, or rather reclining, in the -half-light, at the naiad's feet. He hastily concealed himself behind a -jutting rock, and was about to retire; but an irresistible fascination -detained him. - - - - -XI - -THE GROTTO OF THE NAIAD - - -Princess Agatha was reclining on a divan of dark velvet, where her -graceful and noble figure resembled a ghost in the moonlight. Michel -could see her profile in the dim light, and the reflection of the -candles behind her outlined with admirable distinctness features as -delicate and pure as a young maid's. Her long full white gown assumed -all the shades of the opal in that soft light, and the diamonds in her -coronet shot flames of changing hue, now like the sapphire and again -like the emerald. Michel lost altogether the idea that he had formed of -her age when he first saw her. It seemed to him that she was a child, -and when he remembered that he had believed her to be above thirty, he -asked himself whether she was thus transfigured by a celestial radiance -or by a gleam from hell, wherewith she was able, like a sorceress, to -envelop herself in order to deceive the senses. - -She seemed fatigued and depressed. But her attitude was modest and her -expression serene. She was inhaling the perfume of her bouquet of -cyclamen and playing idly with her fan. Michel gazed at her a long time -before he heard, or, at least, attached a meaning to the words she was -saying. She seemed to him lovelier than any of the beauties he had been -scrutinizing so closely, and he could not understand the unmixed, -boundless admiration which she aroused in him. He strove in vain to -examine her features in detail and analyze her charms; he could not -succeed. She seemed to be floating in a magic fluid which protected her -from being studied like other women. From time to time, thinking that he -understood her, he closed his eyes and tried to sketch her portrait in -his memory, to draw her in imagination, in strokes of flame, on the -black veil which he spread before his own eyes by lowering his lids. But -he saw naught but confused lines, and could not conjure up any distinct -face. He was compelled to reopen his eyes in haste and gaze at her with -anxiety, with intense delight, and above all, with surprise. - -For there was a something indescribable about her. She was perfectly -natural; of all the women Michel had seen, she alone seemed to have no -thought of herself; she had assumed no studied air or manner; she did -not know, or did not choose to know, what people thought of her, what -they felt as they looked at her; she had the tranquillity of a mind -disassociated from all human things, and the entire freedom from -constraint that she might have had in absolute solitude. - -And yet she was arrayed like a genuine princess; she was giving a ball, -she displayed her magnificence, she played her rôle of a great lady and -of a woman of the world, like any other, to all appearance. Why then -that madonna-like air, that inward meditation, or that rapt -contemplation of a soul above human vanities? - -She was a living enigma to the young artist's restless imagination. -Something still more strange perplexed him beyond measure; and that was -that it seemed to him that he had not seen her that day for the first -time. - -Where could he have seen her before? In vain did he rack his memory. -When he arrived at Catania her very name was strange to him. A person of -such exalted rank, and so remarkable by reason of her wealth, her -beauty, and her reputation for virtue, could not have come to Rome -_incognito_. Michel cudgelled his brain. He could recall no occasion -when he could have seen her; especially as when he looked at her, he had -a feeling, not that he had known her slightly, but that he had known her -intimately and for a long time, ever since he was born. - -When he had exhausted his memory, he said to himself that there must be -some abstract reason for that sensation. It must be due to the fact that -she was the ideal type of beauty of which he had always dreamed, but -which he had never been able to grasp and produce. That was a poetic -commonplace. He was fain to be content with it for lack of a better. - -But the princess was not alone, for she was talking; and Michel soon -discovered that she was tête-à-tête with a man. That was certainly a -reason to impel him to withdraw, but it was difficult to do so. To -preserve the mysterious obscurity of the grotto and exclude the -brilliant light of the ball-room, the entrance had been masked by a -heavy blue velvet curtain, which our inquisitive hero, by the merest -chance, had drawn aside a little way when he entered, without attracting -the attention of the two persons who were talking there. The entrance to -the grotto being only half as wide as the grotto itself, formed a frame, -not of artificial rocks, as would have been the case with us, in our -imitations of _rococo_, but of genuine blocks of lava, vitrified, and of -divers shades of color, curious and valuable specimens collected long -before in the very crater of the volcano to be set like jewels in the -masonry. This beautiful door-frame protruded far enough into the grotto -to conceal Michel, who was able to see because of its uneven surface. -But, in order to go out, he must raise the curtain again, and he could -hardly hope that both the princess and her companion would be -sufficiently engrossed not to notice him. - -Michel thought of all this too late to avert the consequences of his -imprudence. It was too late for him to go out naturally, as he had -entered. Moreover he was nailed to his place by the most intense -curiosity and anxiety. Doubtless that man was the princess's lover. - -He was a man of about thirty-five years, tall, and with a grave, sweet -face, wonderfully handsome and regular. In his manner, as he sat facing -Agatha at a distance, which indicated something betwixt respect and -intimacy, there was nothing to criticise; but when Michel had recovered -his presence of mind sufficiently to listen to the words that fell upon -his ears, he fancied that he could detect an indication of mutual -affection in this observation of the princess: - -"Thank heaven it has not yet occurred to anyone to raise the curtain and -discover this delightful retreat; although I might naturally take some -pride in bringing my guests here,--for it is beautifully decorated -to-night,--I would like to pass the night here all alone, or with you, -marquis, while the fête and the dancing and the tumult run their course -behind the curtain." - -The marquis replied, in a tone which did not indicate a presumptuous -man: - -"You should have had the grotto closed altogether by a door to which you -alone had a key, and have transformed it into a private salon, whither -you could come from time to time to obtain some repose from the heat, -the glare and the compliments. You are not accustomed to society now, -and you were over-confident of your strength. You will be terribly tired -to-morrow." - -"I am already; but it was not the crowd and the noise that broke me down -so in an instant." - -"I understand that, my dear friend," said the marquis, pressing Agatha's -hand fraternally in his. "Try to think of something else, at least for a -few hours, so that your preoccupation may not be manifest; for you -cannot escape people's eyes, and, outside of this grotto, you have not -left yourself a single corner of your whole palace where you can take -refuge without running the gauntlet of obsequious salutations, -inquisitive glances--" - -"And trite remarks with which I am already sated," added the princess, -struggling to smile. "How can anyone be fond of society, marquis? Can -you understand it?" - -"I can understand it in the case of people who are satisfied with -themselves, and who think that it is always an advantage to exhibit -themselves." - -"To my mind, the ball is delightful thus, at a distance, when we cannot -see it or be seen. There is something piquant--almost poetic--in the -buzzing, this distant music that we hear, and in the idea that people -are being amused or bored outside, and that we are not compelled to take -any part in it." - -"But it is reported to-day that you are about to become reconciled to -society, and that this magnificent fête, which you are giving for love -of good works, will incline you to give or to see others. In short, they -say that you are going to change all your habits and reappear in the -world, like a star too long eclipsed." - -"And why do people say such an extraordinary thing?" - -"Ah! in order to answer that question, I should have to constitute -myself the echo of all the laudations to which you refused to listen; -and I am not in the habit of telling you even the truth when it bears a -resemblance to insipid compliments." - -"I do you that justice, and I authorize you to-night to repeat all that -you have heard." - -"Very well! People say that you are still lovelier than all those women -who take pains to appear lovely; that you outshine the most brilliant -and most admired women by a certain charm peculiar to yourself, and by -an air of noble simplicity which wins all hearts. They are beginning -anew to be surprised that you live in solitude, and--must I tell -everything?" - -"Yes, absolutely everything." - -"They say--I heard it with my own ears as I brushed against people who -had no idea that I was so near: 'What strange whim prevents her marrying -the Marquis della Serra?'" - -"Go on, go on, marquis; say on; have no fear. They say, doubtless, that -I am the more ill-advised in that you are my lover?" - -"No, signora, they do not say that," replied the marquis, in a -chivalrous tone; "and they will not say it, so long as I have a tongue -to deny it, and an arm to avenge your honor." - -"Dear and generous friend!" exclaimed the princess, offering him her -hand; "you take that too seriously. I will wager that everybody believes -and says that we love each other." - -"They may believe and say that I love you, for that is the truth; and -the truth always comes out sooner or later. That is why people know also -that you do not love me." - -"Noble heart! But, now less than ever---- To-morrow I will talk to you -more freely on this subject than I have ever done. I will tell you -everything. This is neither a fitting time nor place. I must return to -the ball, where it is probable that my long absence causes surprise." - -"Are you sufficiently rested and calm?" - -"Yes; now I can resume my mask of impassibility." - -"Ah! it costs you little to assume it, terrible woman!" cried the -marquis, rising and pressing convulsively to his breast the arm that she -had passed through his. "You are as invulnerable in the depths of your -heart as you are on the surface." - -"Do not say that, marquis," said the princess, detaining him and looking -at him with a clear penetrating glance that sent a thrill through -Michel's whole being. "At this solemn moment of my life, that is a stab -of which you do not realize the depth. To-morrow, for the first time in -the twelve years that we have known without comprehending each other, -you will comprehend me perfectly! Come," she added, shaking her lovely -head, as if to banish serious thoughts, "let us go and dance! But first -let us say good-night to the naiad, so lovely in this light, and to this -charming grotto, which will soon be desecrated by the indifferent -multitude." - -"Was it old Pier-Angelo who decorated it so beautifully?" inquired the -marquis, turning toward the naiad. - -"No," replied the princess, "_it was he!_" - -And hurrying from the room, as if impelled by a courageous resolution, -she suddenly drew the curtain aside and threw it upon Michel, who, by -unhoped-for good-fortune, was thus doubly concealed when she passed very -near him. - -As soon as the disquietude due to his own situation as an interloper was -dispelled, he entered the grotto, and finding that he was quite alone -there, he sank upon the divan, beside the place the princess had -occupied. All that he had heard had agitated him strangely; but all the -reflections in which he might have indulged were overshadowed by the -last words that extraordinary woman had uttered. - -Those words might have been an enigma to an absolutely humble and -innocent young man: "_No, it was not Pier-Angelo; it was he!_" What a -mysterious reply, or what extraordinary abstraction! But to Michel it -was not abstraction: that _he_ did not relate to Pier-Angelo, but to -himself. To the princess, therefore, he was a person whom it was not -necessary to call by name, and she spoke of him in that concise and -emphatic way to a man who was in love with her. - -That inexplicable sentence, and the reticence which had preceded it, her -refusal to admit that she loved the marquis, that _solemn moment of her -life_ to which she had referred, that terrible shock which she said that -she had had during the evening, that important confidential -communication which she was to make the next day--did all of these -relate to Michel? - -When he remembered the inexplicable glance she had bestowed upon him -when she saw him for the first time before the opening of the ball, he -was tempted to give way to the most insane presumptions. It is true -that, while she was talking with the marquis, there had been a moment -when her dreamy eyes had shone with no less extraordinary brilliancy; -but it seemed to Michel that their expression was not the same as when -they had looked into his. Glance for glance, he preferred the one that -had fallen to him. - -Who could describe the marvellous and gorgeous romances which that rash -youth's brain developed during the next quarter of an hour? They were -all built upon the same foundation, the unheard-of genius of a young -artist who was ignorant of his own powers, and who had suddenly revealed -them in a brilliant and extensive piece of decorative work. The lovely -princess for whom that masterly work was undertaken had come often, by -stealth, to observe its progress, and during the week that the artist -had spent in the enchanted palace, taking his siesta and eating at -certain hours, in certain mysterious rooms, this invisible fairy had -come to gaze upon him, sometimes from behind a curtain, sometimes from a -rose-window in the wall. She had been smitten with love for his person -or with admiration for his talents--at any rate with an infatuation of -some sort for him; and that sentiment was so intense that she could not -summon the necessary self-possession to manifest it by words. Her glance -had revealed everything to him in spite of herself; and how should he, -trembling and bewildered as he was, find a way to tell her that he had -understood her? - -He had reached that point when the Marquis della Serra, the princess's -adorer, suddenly reappeared before him and surprised him holding in his -hands the fan the princess had left on the divan, and gazing at it -without seeing it. - -"I beg your pardon, my dear child," said the marquis, saluting him with -charming courtesy, "but I am compelled to deprive you of that object, -for which a lady has sent me. But if the Chinese pictures on this fan -interest you, I can place at your disposal a collection of interesting -vases and images from which you will be at liberty to choose." - -"You are much too kind, signor marquis," replied Michel, offended by an -air of benevolence in which he fancied that he could detect an -impertinent assumption of superiority; "the fan does not interest me, -and Chinese painting is not to my taste." - -The marquis perceived Michel's irritation, and rejoined with a smile: - -"Presumably you have seen only coarse specimens of the art of that -people; but there are colored drawings, which, despite the elementary -simplicity of the process, are worthy to be compared with the Etruscan -vases in purity of outline and delightful artlessness of subjects. I -shall be happy to show you those that I own. It is a small pleasure -which I should be glad to afford you, but which would by no means pay my -debt to you, for I have taken very great pleasure in looking at your -paintings." - -The marquis's tone was so sincere, and his face wore such an -unmistakable expression of kindliness, that Michel, attacked on his weak -side, could not refrain from saying ingenuously what he felt. - -"I fear," he said, "that your lordship desires to encourage me by more -indulgence than I deserve; for I cannot suppose that you would stoop to -make sport of a young artist at the outset of his career." - -"God forbid, my young friend!" replied the marquis, holding out his hand -with an irresistibly cordial air. "I know your father too well and -esteem him too highly not to be predisposed in your favor; that much I -must admit; but I can say to you in all sincerity that your paintings -disclose genius and give promise of talent. You see, I do not flatter -you; there are still great faults in your work, due to inexperience or -to overheated imagination: but there is a stamp of grandeur and -originality of conception which can neither be acquired nor lost. Work, -work, my young Michelangelo, and you will deserve the noble name you -bear." - -"Are others of your opinion, signor marquis?" queried Michel, strongly -tempted to introduce the princess's name in the conversation. - -"I think that everybody shares my opinion. Your defects are criticised -indulgently, your good qualities warmly praised; people are not -surprised at your brilliant performance when they learn that you are -from Catania and the son of Pier-Angelo Lavoratori, an excellent -workman, full of fire and spirit. We are loyal compatriots hereabout, -Michelangelo! We rejoice at the triumphs won by a child of the country, -and everyone generously claims a share in them. We esteem so highly -those who are born on our beloved soil, that we forget all distinctions -of rank, and nobles and peasants, artists and artisans, mutually -overlook their ancient prejudices and unite their prayers in a fervent -desire for national unity." - -"Oho!" thought Michel, "the marquis is talking politics to me! I don't -know his opinions. Perhaps, if he has guessed the princess's feelings, -he proposes to try to ruin me! I will not trust him.--Will your lordship -tell me," he said aloud, "if the Princess of Palmarosa has deigned to -look at my paintings, and if she is not altogether dissatisfied with my -work?" - -"The princess is enchanted, do not doubt it, my dear fellow," replied -the marquis, with extraordinary warmth; "and if she knew that you were -here she would come and tell you so herself. But she is too much engaged -at this moment for you to obtain speech of her. To-morrow, I doubt not, -she will give you the praise that you deserve, and you will lose nothing -by waiting. By the way," he said, turning again as he was about to leave -the grotto, "will you come and see my Chinese paintings, and some other -pictures not altogether without merit? I shall be delighted to see you -often. My country house is close at hand." - -Michel bowed, as if to thank him and accept his invitation; but, -although he could not help being flattered by the marquis's gracious -manner toward him, he was depressed, crushed as it were. Evidently the -marquis was not jealous of him. He was not even disturbed. - - - - -XII - -MAGNANI - - -Nothing is so mortifying as to have believed, though it were only for a -single hour, in the reality of a romantic, intoxicating adventure, and -to discover that you have simply been dreaming an absurd dream. Each new -reflection in which our young artist indulged cooled his brain and led -him back to the dismal field of probabilities. Upon what foundation had -he built so many castles in Spain? Upon a glance which he had doubtless -misinterpreted, and upon a remark which he must have misunderstood. All -the convincing arguments which offered a flat contradiction to his -extravagant conceit stood like a mountain in his path, and he felt that -he was falling back from heaven to earth. - -"I am very foolish," he said to himself, "to give all my thoughts to a -problematical pair of eyes and to unintelligible words from a woman whom -I do not know, and whom consequently I do not love, when I have far more -important matters on hand. I must go and see if this marquis did not -deceive me, and if everybody really considers that my paintings show -genius in default of science. And yet," he continued, as he left the -grotto, "there is something that savors of mystery at the bottom of all -this, none the less. How does this marquis know me, when I never saw -him? How does it happen that he accosted me without hesitation, with -such familiarity, and called me by my Christian name, as if we were old -friends? To be sure, he may have been at some window, or in a church, or -on the public square on the day I walked through the city with my -father; or when I was looking at the aërial gardens of the Semiramis -who employs me, he may have been in one of those boudoirs, apparently so -tightly closed, whose windows look in that direction, and where he is -allowed, doubtless, to go and sigh hopelessly for her lovely capricious -eyes." - -Michel walked through the crowd, and attracted no one's attention. His -features were not known, although his name had been on many lips, and -people talked freely of his work in his very ears. - -"That is promising," said some. - -"He still has much to learn," said others. - -"There is much imagination and good taste; it pleases the eye and -interests the mind." - -"True, but some of the arms are too long, and the legs too short; the -foreshortening shows extreme ignorance; the figures are making -impossible gestures." - -"Agreed, but graceful, none the less. I tell you that this boy, for they -say he is a mere child, will go a long way." - -"He is a child of our city." - -"Indeed! well, he will go around it and no farther," retorted a -Neapolitan. - -From first to last Michelangelo Lavoratori heard more kindly praise than -bitter criticism; but he felt many thorns while plucking many roses, and -he realized that success is a sweetmeat in which there is a plentiful -supply of gall. He was depressed at first; then, folding his arms across -his breast, and contemplating his work, without listening farther to the -opinion of others, he took account of its merits and defects with an -impartiality which triumphed over his self-love. - -"They are all right," he said. "It promises, but pays nothing in -advance. I have already made up my mind to destroy these canvases when I -store them in the storerooms of the palace, and I will do better -hereafter. I have made an experiment upon myself, which I do not regret, -although I am not very well satisfied with it; but I shall know how to -profit by it, and whether this undertaking is favorable to my fortunes -or not, it shall be to my talent." - -Having recovered all his lucidity of thought, and reflecting that he was -not one of those patrons who assisted the poor by purchasing a card of -admission, Michel determined to abstain from watching the fête and to -walk about alone in some quiet corner of the palace until he felt -absolutely calm and disposed to go home and to bed. His reason had -returned, but the fatigue of the preceding days had left a touch of -feverish excitement in his blood and in his nerves. He bent his steps -toward the Casino, whence he could go out upon the natural terraces of -the mountain. - -The whole of that magnificent abode was illuminated and adorned with -flowers; the public were allowed free access to every part; but, after -once making the tour of the upper floors, the crowd ceased to go -thither. The bulk of the spectacle, the dancing, music, bustle, youth -and love, were below, in the great temporary ball-room. No one remained -in the upper galleries, on the graceful staircases, or in the vast -apartments, save an occasional majestic or mysterious group of solemn -personages discussing affairs of state, or great coquettes collecting -and detaining by their refined conversation certain chosen men around -their chairs. - -Toward midnight all those who had not a direct interest in the affair, -or were not enjoying themselves, took their leave, and, the concourse -becoming less numerous, the fête was more enjoyable and more beautiful -to the eye. - -Michel reached the princess's aërial garden by a small secret -staircase. At that elevation the breeze was very cool, and he felt -exceedingly refreshed and comfortable as he sat on the top step of that -staircase, near a fragrant flower-bed. The garden was deserted. Through -the silver gauze curtains he could see the interior of the princess's -apartments, also deserted. But Michel was not long alone; Magnani joined -him. - -Magnani was one of the handsomest young men among the mechanics of the -city. He was industrious, intelligent, high-spirited, and honest. Michel -did not attempt to combat the friendly feeling he inspired, and in his -company forgot the embarrassment and distrust which he had felt from the -beginning with all the workmen with whom his father's position had -compelled him to associate. He suffered, poor boy, after years of -leisure, to be thrown with young men who were inclined to be a little -rough and noisy, who reproached him for looking down on them, and whom -he made vain efforts to look upon as his equals. - -He confessed everything to Magnani, whom he saw to be the most -intelligent of them all, and in whose hearty outspokenness there was -nothing offensive or tyrannical. He confided to him all the ambitions, -all the weaknesses, all the intoxicating emotions, all the sufferings, -in a word, all the little secrets of his young heart. Magnani understood -him, excused him and talked sensibly to him. - -"You are not wrong in my eyes, Michel," he said; "inequality of rank is -the law of society; everyone wishes to rise, no one wishes to descend. -If it were otherwise the people would remain in the brute stage. But the -people aspire to grow, thank God! and they do grow, whatever may be done -to prevent them. I myself strive to succeed, to possess something, to -reach a point where I shall not always have to obey, in a word, to be -free! But whatever happiness I may attain, it seems to me that I ought -not to forget the point from which I started. Unjust chance compels many -men to remain in poverty who deserve as well as I, perhaps much better, -to escape from it. That is why I shall never despise those whom I leave -behind me, and shall not cease to love them with all my heart and aid -them with all my power. - -"I know that you shun your brothers in rank without despising them, -without hating them; you do not enjoy yourself with them, and yet you -would do them a favor on occasion; but beware! there is a touch of -ill-advised pride in this sort of patronizing affection, and, although -the day may come when it will be all right, remember that at the present -time it may well seem misplaced. You have more intelligence and more -knowledge of life than most of us, I agree; but is that a very real -superiority? Will not any poor devil who happens to have more wisdom, -virtue, or courage than you be entitled to consider himself your equal -at least, even if his speech is abrupt and his language vulgar? - -"It will happen more than once in your career as an artist that you will -have to endure patiently the impertinence of the rich; indeed, if I am -not mistaken, an artist's life is likely to be a constant struggle to -shelter his individual merit from the contempt of the imaginary merit -attached to birth, power, and wealth. However, you are aiming for that -social level, without fear or shame; you accept the challenge in -advance, you propose to measure strength with the bitter vanity of the -great; how does it happen, pray, that that seems less offensive and less -unpleasant than the harmless familiarity of the humble? I could more -readily excuse the affront of an ignorant man than that of a coxcomb, -and I should feel more at ease amid the fisticuffs of my companions, -than when exposed to the graceful witticisms of my alleged superiors. - -"Is it ennui that drives you away from us? Is it because we have few -ideas and little skill in expressing them? But perhaps we have something -else which would interest you if you understood it. The simplicity which -characterizes us has its noble side, which should arouse respect and -emotion in those who have lost it. Is it the faults or the vices that -are found among us that make you sick at heart? But are the upper -classes exempt from these same vices, which it pains me to see, and -which I am constantly on my guard against? Because they conceal them -better, or because in them debauchery of the mind colors and quickens -that of the body, does it follow that their vices are more estimable? In -vain do they, the fortunate ones of the age, cover their tracks; their -sins, their crimes become known to us, and often, almost always in fact, -they seek their confederates or their victims among us. - -"Go on, Michel, work, hope, rise, but let it not be at the expense of -the spirit of justice and kindness; for in that case, although you might -grow in the opinion of some, you would descend proportionately in the -esteem of the majority." - -"All that you say is true and wise," Michel replied, "but is the -conclusion well drawn? Ought I to pursue the career of art, and at the -same time associate exclusively, or at least by preference, with these -mechanics among whom fate willed that I should be born? If you reflect, -you will see that that is inconsistent, that the great works of art are -in the hands of the rich, that they alone own, purchase, and order -pictures, statues, urns, carvings, and engravings. To be employed by -them, one must needs live with them and as they live; otherwise -oblivion, obscurity and poverty are the lot of genius. Our ancestors, -the noble artists of the Renaissance and the Middle Ages, were artists -and artisans at once. Their position was well-defined, and was more or -less brilliant according to their talent. To-day all is changed. Artists -are more numerous and the rich are less powerful and magnificent. Taste -has become corrupted, the Mæcenases are no longer connoisseurs. Fewer -palaces are built; for one great collection that is formed, thirty are -sold piecemeal to pay debts, or because the heirs of the great families -prefer cash to monuments of genius. It is no longer enough, therefore, -to be a man of superior talent in order to find employment and honor in -one's profession. Chance, and, even more frequently, intrigue, cause -some to float, while others, who it may be are of far greater worth, are -submerged. - -"However, I do not trust to chance, and my pride refuses to stoop to -intrigue. What shall I do, then? Shall I wait until some collector's eye -is attracted by a decorative figure, broadly conceived, on sized canvas, -and he is so impressed by it that he comes next day to the wineshop to -hunt me up and order a picture? Such good fortune may occur once in a -hundred times; but even then, on the day when it occurs to me, I shall -owe my bread to the patronage of the rich man, who is beginning to be -interested in me. Sooner or later I must bow before him and beg him to -recommend me to others. Would it not be better for me, at the earliest -possible moment, as soon as I am sure of myself, to quit the ladder and -the apron, to assume the external aspect of a man who does not beg, and -to present myself, with my head erect, among the rich? If I go out of -the wineshop arm-in-arm with the merry knights of the saw and trowel, it -is evident that I cannot enter the palace as a guest, but as a paid -workman; and at this moment, if I should venture to accost one of these -lovely women and ask her to dance, I should be spat upon and turned out -of doors within a quarter of an hour. The time must come, however, when -they will make overtures to me, and when my talent will be a title -capable of contending on equal terms with that of duke or marquis for -the triumphs of this world. But only on condition that my habits and my -manners bear the stamp and seal of aristocracy. I must be what they call -a man of good breeding; otherwise it would avail me nothing to be a man -of genius; no one would believe it. - -"I shall not make my way as an artist, therefore, except by destroying -the artisan in me. I must succeed in becoming the free possessor of my -own works, and in selling them as an owner does, instead of executing -them like a day-laborer. Well! for that I must have reputation, and in -these days reputation does not go about looking for an artist in his -garret; he is obliged to acquire it himself by his own exertions, -consorting with those who award it, demanding it as a right and not -imploring it as alms. Tell me, Magnani, how I am to escape this dilemma! -And yet it pains me terribly, I assure you, to think that I must in some -sense deny the race of my fathers, and that I must submit to be accused -of idiocy and impudence by men whose brother and friend I feel that I -am. You see that I must go away from a country where my father's -popularity would make this separation more offensive to others and more -painful to myself than elsewhere. I came here to perform a duty--to -expiate my heedlessness at Rome; but when my task is done, I must return -thither, and from there travel the world over, in the disguise, perhaps -premature, of a free man. If I do not do it, farewell to my whole -future; I may as well renounce it to-day." - -"Yes! yes! I understand," said Magnani; "you must set yourself free at -any price. The journeyman's work is slavery; the work of an artist is -the title of manhood. You are right, Michel; it is your right, -consequently your duty and your destiny. But how dismal and cruel the -destiny of an intelligent man is! One must cast off his family, leave -his native land, act a sort of comedy to induce strangers to accept him -as one of themselves, assume a mask in order to receive the laurel -wreath, take up arms against the poor who condemn him and the rich who -are loath to receive him! Why, it is horrible! it is enough to disgust -one with glory! In God's name, what is glory that one should purchase it -at that price?" - -"Glory, as it is commonly understood, is nothing at all, I agree," -replied Michel, warmly, "if it is nothing more than the trifling noise a -man may make in the world. Shame to him who denies his blood and -sacrifices his affections to gratify his vanity! But glory, according to -my conception, is not that! It is the manifestation and development of -the genius one bears within oneself. In default of enlightened judges, -warm admirers, stern critics, and even jealous detractors--in default of -opportunity to enjoy all the advantages, to receive all the counsels, to -undergo all the persecution which follow in the wake of renown--genius -withers and dies in discouragement, apathy, doubt or ignorance of -itself. Thanks to all the triumphs, all the struggles, all the wounds -which await us in a lofty career, we acquire the power to make the most -glorious use of our capabilities, and to leave a deep, ineffaceable, -forever fruitful trace in the world of thought. Ah! he who truly loves -his art desires glory for his works, not in order that his name may -live, but that his art may not die. And what would it matter to me that -I had not the art of my patron saint Michelangelo, if I should leave to -posterity an anonymous work worthy to be compared to the _Last -Judgment_! To make oneself talked about is more often a source of -martyrdom than of intoxicating pleasure. The serious-minded artist seeks -that martyrdom and endures it patiently. He knows that it is the harsh -condition of his success; and his success, not in being applauded and -understood by all, but in producing and leaving behind him something in -which he himself has faith. But what is the matter, Magnani? You are -sad, and you are not listening to me." - - - - -XIII - -AGATHA - - -"Yes, I am listening to you, Michel, I am listening attentively," -Magnani replied, "and I am sad because I feel the force of your -reasoning. You are not the first person with whom I have talked of these -matters. I have known more than one young mechanic who aspired to drop -his trade, to become a merchant, lawyer, priest or artist; and it is -true enough that the number of these deserters increases every year. -Whoever feels that he possesses intelligence instantly becomes conscious -of ambition; and hitherto I have fought such tendencies vigorously in -others and in myself. My parents, who are proud and obstinate like the -prudent, hard-working old people that they are, taught me, as a -religious precept, to remain true to family traditions--to the customs -of my rank; and my heart approved of that strict and simple code of -morals. That is why I have resolved not to seek success outside of my -trade, though I sometimes have to crush my own impulses. That is why I -have always roughly trampled upon the self-love of my young comrades as -soon as I saw it sprouting; that is why my first words of sympathy and -regard for you were warnings and reproaches. It seems to me now that, -until I had you to deal with, I was in the right, because the others -were really vain, and their vanity tended to make them selfish and -ungrateful. So that I felt fully justified in rebuking them, laughing at -them and preaching to them by turns. But with you I feel that I am weak, -because you are stronger than I in theory. You depict art in such grand -and beautiful colors, you feel so strongly the noble character of your -mission, that I dare not oppose you any longer. It seems to me that you -have a right to break down every obstacle in order to succeed, even your -heart, as I broke mine in order to remain obscure. And yet my conscience -is not satisfied with this solution. It does not seem to me to be a -solution. Come, Michel, you are more learned than I; tell me which of us -is wrong before God!" - -"My friend, I believe that we are both right," replied Michel. "I -believe that at this moment we represent between us what is taking -place, contradictorily but simultaneously, in the minds of the common -people in all civilized nations. You plead for sentiment. Your paternal -feeling is holy and sacred. It is opposed to my idea; but my idea is -grand and true; it is as sacred in its passion for combat, as your -sentiment in its theory of renunciation and silence. You are following -your duty, I am enforcing my right. Bear with me, Magnani, for I respect -you, and each of our ideals is incomplete until it is completed by the -other." - -"Yes, you speak of abstract ideas," rejoined Magnani, thoughtfully, "and -I think that I understand you; but in the concrete the question is not -solved. The society of the present day is struggling between two reefs, -resignation and resistance. Through love for my class I choose to suffer -and protest with it. From the same motive, perhaps, you choose to fight -and triumph in its name. These two methods of action seem to exclude and -condemn each other. Before the divine tribunal which will prevail, -sentiment or idea? You say, both. But on earth, where men are not -governed by divine laws, how can we possibly make those two extremes -harmonize? I seek in vain a means." - -"But why seek it?" said Michel; "it does not exist on earth at this -moment. The people may free themselves and make themselves famous as a -whole by glorious battles, by good morals, by civic virtues, but each -individual of the people has his individual destiny; the destiny of the -man who feels that he was born to touch hearts is to live on fraternal -terms with the simple; of him who feels that his calling is to enlighten -men's minds, to seek light, though it be in solitude, though it be among -the enemies of his race. The great masters of art worked, from a -material standpoint, for wealth, but, from a moral standpoint, for all -mankind; for the poorest of the poor can obtain from their works a -revelation and appreciation of the beautiful. Let every man follow his -inspiration therefore, and bow to the mysterious designs of Providence -with respect to him! My father loves to sing rollicking ballads in -taverns; he electrifies his companions with them; the stories that he -tells sitting on a bench at a street corner, his cheery humor, and his -ardor in singing or in the common toil inspire all those who see and -hear him. Heaven has endowed him with the power of acting directly, by -the simplest means, on the vital fibres of his brethren, zeal in labor, -expansiveness in the hours of rest. For my part, I have a liking for -solitary temples, sumptuous, dark old palaces, venerable masterpieces, -studious reverie, the refined enjoyments of art. The society of -patricians has no terrors for me. I consider them too degenerate to be -feared; their names have for me a poesy which makes of them mere -figures, ghosts, if you choose, and I love to walk smiling among those -ghosts who do not frighten me. I love the dead; I live with the past; -and from the past I acquire my idea of the future; but I confess that I -have but little notion of the present, that the precise moment of my -existence has no existence for me, because I am always delving in the -past, and pushing all realities forward. In that way I transform them -and idealize them. You see that I should not reach the same ends as my -father and you, even if I used the same means. It is not in me to do -it." - -"Michel," said Magnani, striking his forehead, "you have won! I must -absolve you and spare you my remonstrances henceforth! But I am -suffering, I am suffering terribly! Your words cause me very great -pain!" - -"How so, my dear Magnani?" - -"That is my secret, and yet I tell it to you without betraying its -sanctity. Can you possibly suppose that I have not some legitimate -ambition, some secret, deep-rooted desire to set myself free from the -servitude in which I live? Don't you know that all men have at the -bottom of their hearts the desire to be happy? And do you suppose that -the consciousness of a joyless duty causes me to wallow in delight? - -"Listen and judge of my martyrdom. I have loved madly for five years a -woman whose rank in society places her as far above me as heaven is -above the earth. Having always considered it impossible that she should -ever bestow so much as a compassionate glance upon me, I cultivated a -sort of gloomy satisfaction in my suffering, my poverty, my forced -nullity among my fellowmen. With a bitter feeling at my heart, I -determined not to imitate those who are determined to succeed and who -expose themselves to the risk of being scoffed at from above and from -below. If I were one of them, I thought, perhaps the day would come when -I might gallantly raise to my lips the hand of her whom I adore. But as -soon as I opened my mouth to reveal the mystery of my passion, I should -undoubtedly be spurned, laughed at, trampled under foot; I prefer to -remain lost in the dust of my trade, and never to carry my insane -presumption so far as her feet. I prefer that she should continue to -believe it impossible that I could ever dream of aspiring to her. At all -events, while I wear the livery of the mechanic, she will respect the -suffering of which she knows nothing; she will not intensify it by -discovering it, by blushing because she inspired it, by deeming it -necessary to protect herself from it. Now, she passes me as she passes -anything which is of no consequence to her, but which she does not -consider that she has the right to spurn and crush. She bows to me, -smiles at me, and speaks to me as to a being of a different nature from -her own: that instinct is not manifest, but it is in her; I feel it and -I understand it. At all events, she does not think of humiliating me, -she would not do it; and the less reason I have for priding myself upon -the possibility of pleasing her, the less do I fear that she will insult -me by her pity. All this would change if I were a painter or a poet, if -I could present her with her portrait done by my trembling hand, or with -a sonnet indited by me in her honor; she would smile differently, she -would speak differently. There would be reserve, mockery, or compassion -in her kindness, according as I should have succeeded or failed in my -artistic efforts. Oh! how far that would remove me from her, how much -lower it would leave me than I now am! I prefer to be the mechanic who -renders her a service by selling her the use of his arms, rather than -the beginner in art to be patronized as a weakling or pitied as a -madman!" - -"I approve what you have done," said Michel, who had become pensive in -his turn. "I like your pride, and I think that it would be a good -example to follow even in my position and with the projects which I -entertain, if I were tempted to seek love beyond certain obstacles, -which, though absurd, are enormous!" - -"Oh! it is very different with you, Michel. The obstacles which would -exist between you and a great lady to-day will quickly be surmounted, -and, as you yourself have said, the day will come when those women will -make advances to you. Those words, which escaped from your heart, seemed -to me presumptuous and absurd at first. Now that I understand you they -seem perfectly natural and legitimate to me. Yes, you will win the favor -of women of the most exalted rank, because you are in the bloom of -youth, because your beauty is of a refined and somewhat effeminate type, -which gives you a resemblance to the men who are born to a life of -idleness; because you are accustomed to fashionable society, because you -have the instinct of good manners and seem perfectly at home in the -clothes you wear; for all these things, added to genius and success, are -essential to induce proud women to overlook the artist's plebeian -origin. Yes, you will be able to appear a man in their eyes, while I -should disguise myself to no purpose; I should never be anything but a -mechanic, and my rough shell would show in spite of me. It is too late -for me to begin: I am twenty-six years old! But I thrill with strange -emotion when I think that, five years ago, when I was still as pliable -as wax, if someone had encouraged and ennobled in my eyes the instincts -that were springing to life within me, if someone had spoken to me as -you have just done, I might have followed a course not unlike yours, and -have started upon a soul-stirring career! My mind was open to the -sentiment of the beautiful; I could sing like the nightingale, without -understanding my own notes, but with the power of untaught inspiration. -I could read, understand, and remember many books; I understood nature, -too; I could read in the sky and in the broad expanse of the sea, in the -verdure of the forests and the blue-capped mountains. It seems to me -that I might have been a musician, or a poet, or a landscape painter. -And love was already speaking to my heart; already she had appeared to -me from whom I cannot detach my thoughts. What a stimulus for me if I -had surrendered to my violent temptations!--But I forced them all back -into my heart, fearing to be false to my kindred and friends, fearing to -degrade myself in their eyes and my own by seeking to rise. I have -inured myself to work; my hands have become callous, and my mind as -well. My chest has increased in size, it is true, and my heart has kept -pace with it, like a polypus which feeds upon me and absorbs all my -vitality; but my brow has retreated, I am sure of it; my imagination has -collapsed; poesy is dead within me; I have nothing left except the -reasoning power, loyalty, resolution, and self-sacrifice--that is to -say, suffering! Ah! Michel, spread your wings and leave this land of -sorrows! fly, like a bird, to the domes of palaces and temples, and from -that height look down upon this wretched people, grovelling and groaning -at your feet. Pity me at least, love me if you can, and never do -anything which can lower you in your own eyes." - -Magnani was deeply moved; but suddenly his emotion changed its nature; -he started, hastily turned his head and put his hand on the branches of -a dense clump of rose myrtle, which masked a dark recess in the wall -behind him. That curtain of verdure, which he put aside with a -convulsive movement, concealed the entrance to a secret passage, which, -as it presumably led only to the servants' quarters, was not open to the -princess's guests. Michel, surprised at Magnani's movement, glanced into -the passage, which was dimly lighted by a dying lamp, the farther end -being in total darkness. It seemed to him that he saw a white figure -gliding through the shadows, but it was so vague that it was hardly -perceptible, and it might have been an illusion caused by the sudden -introduction of a brighter light when the bushes were put aside. He was -about to enter; but Magnani detained him, saying: - -"We have no right to watch what takes place in the reserved portions of -this sanctuary. My first curious movement was made without reflection; I -thought that I heard a light step close beside me, and--I was dreaming, -doubtless!--I fancied that I saw this bush move. But it was an illusion -due to the fear that seized upon me at the thought that I was on the -point of letting my secret pass my lips. I must leave you, Michel; these -outpourings of the heart are dangerous, they upset me; I feel that I -must withdraw into myself and give my reason time to allay the tempests -raised in my breast by your words and your example." - -Magnani hurried away, and Michel returned to the ball. The confession of -his young companion, that he was beset by an insane love for a great -lady, had reawakened in him an emotion which he thought that he had -conquered. He hovered about the dancers, trying to divert his thoughts, -for he felt that his folly was as dangerous for the moment as Magnani's. -Many years must pass before he could consider that his genius had placed -him on the level of the most exalted social ranks; so that he derived an -agonizing sort of amusement from watching the youngest of the dancers -and dreamily seeking among them one whom he might some day gaze upon -with eyes inflamed with love and presumption. Probably he did not -discover her, for he transferred his fancy from one to another, and, as -one risks nothing by being hard to please in that variety of castles in -Spain, he continued to seek, and to discuss with himself the comparative -merits of those youthful beauties. - -But in the midst of these aberrations of his brain he suddenly saw the -Princess of Palmarosa pass. He had been careful hitherto to remain at -some distance from the dancing groups, and to keep well out of sight -behind the benches of the amphitheatre; now he involuntarily approached; -and, although the crowd was not dense enough to justify or conceal his -presence, he walked on until he was almost in the front row, among -persons each nobler and richer than his neighbor. This time his -instinctive pride did not warn him of the perils of his situation. An -invincible magnet drew him on and detained him: the princess was -dancing. - -Doubtless it was for form's sake, to satisfy the proprieties, or from -good nature, for she simply walked, and did not seem to take the -slightest pleasure in it. But she walked better than the others danced, -and, without a thought of striving to be graceful, she displayed every -variety of grace. That woman really possessed an extraordinary charm -which penetrated like a subtle perfume, and finally dominated or effaced -everything about her. One would have said that she was a queen in the -midst of her court, in some kingdom where moral and physical perfection -reigned. - -It was the chastity of the celestial virgins with their omnipotent -serenity--a pallor in nowise extreme or sickly--which denoted the -absence of intense emotions. People said that the secret of that -mysterious life was either systematic abstinence from excitement or -extraordinary indifference. And yet her appearance was not that of a -lifeless statue. Kindness of heart lent animation to her somewhat -absent-minded glance and gave an indescribable sweetness to her faint -smile. - -In the glare of those countless lights she appeared to Michel an -entirely different woman from her he had seen in the grotto an hour -earlier, when the peculiar light or his own imagination had made her -appear a little terrifying to him. Now her indifference was calm rather -than depressed, habitual rather than forced. She had recovered just -enough animation to vanquish the heart and leave the passions -undisturbed. - - - - -XIV - -BARBAGALLO - - -If Michel could have removed his eyes from the object of his -contemplation, he would have seen his father playing a flageolet in the -orchestra a few steps away. Pier-Angelo had a passion for art in any -form in which he could assimilate it. He loved and understood music, and -played several instruments by instinct in almost perfect tone and time. -Having attended to several details of the fête which had been placed -under his supervision, and having nothing more to do, he had been unable -to resist the desire to mingle with the musicians, who knew him well, -and who took pleasure in his gayety, his attractive, kindly face, and -the enthusiasm with which he produced from time to time a shrill -_ritornello_ on his instrument. When the minstrel whose place he had -taken returned from the buffet, Pier-Angelo seized upon the vacant -cymbals, and, toward the end of the quadrille, was sawing with great -delight the heavy strings of the bass-viol. - -He was enchanted above all things to play for the princess, who, having -espied his bald head on the platform among the orchestra, bestowed upon -him from a distance a smile and an imperceptible friendly nod which the -old man stored away in his heart. Michelangelo would have considered -perhaps that his father gave his time too lavishly to the service of his -dear patroness, and did not maintain strictly enough his dignity as an -artisan. But at that moment Michel, who believed that he had forgotten -or been cured of the effect of Princess Agatha's glance, had fallen so -completely under its influence that he cared for nothing but to -encounter it again. - -His only fine clothes, which a lingering remnant of ineradicable -aristocratic feeling had led him to bring through the gorges of Ætna in -a travelling-bag slung over his shoulder, were of fashionable cut and in -good taste. His face, too, was so handsome and so noble that there -certainly was nothing to which exception could be taken in his person or -in his dress. And yet his presence in the circle immediately surrounding -the princess had, for some moments past, offended the eyes of Master -Barbagallo, the majordomo of the palace. - -That individual, ordinarily the mildest and most humane of men, had -nevertheless his antipathies and his spasms of comical indignation. He -had recognized Michel's talent; but the young man's impatient air when -he ventured to address some trivial remark to him, and the small respect -he had seemed to entertain for his authority, had caused the majordomo -to look upon the painter with distrust and something like aversion. -According to his ideas--and he had made a special study of titles and -heraldry--nobody was noble but the _nobles_, and he looked upon all -other classes of society with silent but unconquerable disdain. He was -shocked and offended, therefore, to see the haughty palace of his -masters thrown open to what he called a mob--tradesmen, lawyers, -Jewesses, suspicious travellers, students, petty officers; in a word, to -anyone who chose to pay a gold-piece for the privilege of dancing in the -princess's quadrille. This subscription fête was a new invention, -imported from abroad, and it overturned all his notions of decorum. - -The retirement in which the princess had always lived had assisted this -worthy majordomo to retain all his illusions and all his prejudices -touching the excellence of castes. That is why he became more and more -distressed, restless and morose as the night advanced. He had seen the -princess promise a contra-dance to a young lawyer who had had the -audacity to invite her; and when he saw Michelangelo Lavoratori gazing -at her at such close quarters with enraptured eyes, he wondered if that -dauber of canvas would not also enter the lists to dance with her. - -"The world has turned upside down in twenty years, I see," he said to -himself; "if such a ball as this had been given here in Prince Dionigi's -time, things would have been managed differently. Each class would have -kept apart from the rest; they would have formed different groups, and -no group would have mingled with its superiors or inferiors. But here -all ranks are jumbled together; it's a bazar--an infernal revel!--But, -by the way," it occurred to him, "what is that little painter doing -here? He didn't pay any money; he has not even the right which anyone -can buy to-day, alas! at the door of the noble Palmarosa palace. He is -only admitted here as a workman. If he chooses to play the tambourine -beside his old father, or look after the lamps, let him stand back from -where he is now. I will take down his conceit a peg, and it won't do him -any good to play at being a great painter. I'll send him back to his -sizing. It's a little lesson that I owe him, as his old madman of a -father spoils him and doesn't know how to manage him." - -Armed with this noble resolution, Messire Barbagallo, who dared not -approach the princess's circle himself, tried to attract Michel's -attention from a distance by making innumerable signs, of which the -young man remained utterly unconscious. Thereupon the majordomo, seeing -that the contra-dance was nearly at an end, and that the princess could -not fail to see young Lavoratori, who had planted himself so audaciously -in her path, determined to accomplish his purpose by a coup d'état. He -glided among the spectators like a hunting-dog in a field of grain, and, -gently passing his arm through the young man's, he tried to lead him -aside without any noise or disturbance. - -At that moment Michel had met the glance from the princess which he had -been seeking and awaiting so long. - -That glance had thrilled him like an electric shock, veiled though it -was by instinctive prudence; and when he felt some one grasp his arm, -without deigning to turn his head to ascertain with whom he had to do, -he repelled with an energetic dig of the elbow the indiscreet hand that -had touched him. - -"What are you doing here, Master Michel?" said the indignant majordomo -in his ear. - -"What business is it of yours?" he replied, turning his back and -shrugging his shoulders. - -"You ought not to be here," replied Barbagallo, on the point of losing -patience, but restraining himself sufficiently to speak in a low tone. - -"It is all right for you to be here, I suppose!" replied Michel, glaring -at him with eyes inflamed with wrath, hoping to get rid of him by -intimidation. - -But Barbagallo had a certain courage of his own; he would have submitted -to be spat upon rather than fail in the smallest degree in what he -conceived to be his duty. - -"I am doing my duty," he said; "go and do yours. I am sorry to disturb -you; but everyone must keep in his place. Oh! don't be insolent! Where -is your card of admission? You haven't one, I know. If you are allowed -to see the fête, it is only on condition that you look after the buffet -or the lights, like your father; let us see, what were you told to do? -Go and find the butler, and he will tell you what to do; and if he -doesn't need you, go away, instead of staring ladies out of -countenance." - -Master Barbagallo continued to speak so low that nobody could hear him -save Michel; but his wrathful eyes and his convulsive gestures were -eloquent enough, and people were already beginning to look at them. -Michel had fully determined to retire, for he knew that he had no way of -resisting the order. The idea of striking an old man was most -distasteful to him, and yet never before had the blood of the common -people itched more fiercely in the hollow of his hand. He would have -yielded smilingly to an impertinence couched in polite phraseology; but, -not knowing what to do to rescue his dignity from that absurd attack, he -felt as if he should die of rage and shame. - -Barbagallo was already threatening, under his breath, to call for help -to overcome his resistance. The persons who were nearest them glanced -with an expression of satirical surprise at this strange young man at -odds with the majordomo of the palace. The ladies gathered up their -skirts and drew back into the crowd, to be farther away from him. They -thought that he might be a pickpocket who had found his way into the -ball-room, or some insolent intriguer who was about to cause a scandal. - -But just as poor Michel was on the point of swooning with wrath and -shame, for the blood was already roaring in his ears, and his legs were -giving way, a faint cry, not two yards away, drove all the blood back to -his heart. It seemed to him that he had heard that cry before, a cry of -grief, surprise and affection, all in one, in the midst of his sleep on -the evening of his arrival at the palace. Obeying an instinctive impulse -of confidence and hope, which he could not explain to himself, he turned -in the direction of that friendly voice and darted forward at random, as -if to seek refuge on the breast from which it issued. Suddenly he found -himself close beside the princess, with his hand in hers, which pressed -it tremblingly but warmly. That movement and that expression of their -mutual emotion were as rapid as the lightning flash. The amazed -spectators opened a passage for the princess, who walked across the -hall, leaning upon Michel, leaving her partner in the middle of his -final bow, the majordomo in utter dismay, wishing that he could sink -through the floor, and the spectators laughing at the good man's -discomfiture, and concluding that Michel was some young foreigner of -distinction recently arrived at Catania, to whom the princess made haste -to atone, with graceful tact and without useless words, for her -majordomo's blunder. - - -[Illustration: _THE BALL AT THE PALMAROSA -PALACE._ - -_When Signora Agatha reached the foot of the -great staircase, where there were few people, she -had recovered her tranquillity; but Michel was -trembling more than ever._] - - -When Signora Agatha reached the foot of the great staircase, where there -were few people, she had recovered her tranquillity; but Michel was -trembling more than ever. - -"Doubtless she is going to show me the door herself," he thought, -"without allowing anyone to divine her purpose. She is too great and too -kind not to rescue me from the insults of her servants and the contempt -of her guests; but the advice she is going to give me will be none the -less deadly. This probably means the ruin of all my future prospects, -and the wreck of the life I have dreamed of will lie here on the -threshold of her palace." - -"Michelangelo Lavoratori," said the princess, putting her bouquet to her -face to deaden the sound of her voice, which might have reached some ear -on the alert with curiosity, "I have discovered to-day that you are a -genuine artist, and that a noble career lies open before you. A few more -years of earnest work, and you may become a master. Then the world will -receive you, as you deserve to be received to-day, for the man who has -nothing more than well-founded hopes of his personal glory is at least -the equal of those who have only the memory of the glory of their -ancestors. But tell me if you are in haste to make your appearance in -this society which you have seen to-night, and whose spirit you can -already divine? If you wish it, I have but to say a word, to raise my -hand. All the connoisseurs here noticed your figures, and asked me your -name, your age, and your antecedents. I have only to present you to my -friends, to declare that you are an artist, and from this day you will -be so considered, and practically emancipated from your present social -position. Your father's humble profession, far from injuring you, will -be an added source of interest; for the world is always surprised to see -a poor man born with genius, as if artistic genius had not always sprung -from the common people, and as if our caste were still fruitful in -superior men. Answer me, Michel; do you wish to sup to-night at my -table, by my side, or do you prefer to sup in the buttery, beside your -father?" - -This last question was put so concisely that Michel thought that he -could read his sentence in it. "This is either a delicately administered -but most severe lesson that I am receiving," he thought, "or else it is -a test. I will come forth pure!"--And at once recovering his wits, which -had been violently agitated a moment before, he replied proudly: - -"Signora, most fortunate are they who sit at your side and whom you -treat as friends! But the first time that I sup with persons in -aristocratic society, it will be at my own table, with my father sitting -opposite me. That is equivalent to saying that it will never happen, or -that, in any event, many years still separate me from glory and wealth. -Meanwhile, I will sup with my father in the buttery of your palace, to -prove to you that I am not proud and that I accept your invitation." - -"Your reply gratifies me," said the princess; "continue to be a man of -spirit, Michel, and destiny will smile upon you; remember that I predict -it!" - -As she spoke, she looked him in the face, for she had dropped his arm -and was about to leave him. Michel was dazzled by the flames that gushed -from her eyes, usually so soft and dreamy, but animated for him -alone--that was certain now--with an irresistible affection. And yet he -was not disturbed by it as before. Either it was a different expression, -or he had misunderstood it at first. What he had taken for passion was -affection, rather, and the desire which had swept over him like a flood -changed to a sort of enthusiastic adoration, as chaste as she who -inspired it. - -"But listen," added the princess, motioning to the Marquis della Serra, -who passed at that moment, to give her his arm, and thus admitting him -to a share in the conversation: "although there is nothing humiliating -to a sagacious mind in eating in the buttery, and although there is -nothing intensely exhilarating in supping in the salon, I desire that -you should do neither. I have reasons for that which are entirely -personal to you, and which your father must have explained to you. You -have already attracted attention to-day by your work. Avoid showing -yourself freely for a few days more, but without concealing yourself -with an affectation of mystery, which course would have its dangers. I -could have wished that you had not come to this fête. You should have -understood why I did not order a card of admission to be given to you; -and your father tried to remove any desire that you might have to be -present by telling you that, if you remained, you would be charged with -some duty which would not suit you. Why did you come? Tell me frankly: -are you very fond of spectacles like this? You must have seen as -beautiful ones at Rome?" - -"No, signora, I have never seen any that were beautiful at all, for you -were not present." - -"He wishes to make me believe," said the princess, with a smile of the -utmost amiability, addressing the marquis, "that he came to the ball on -my account. Do you believe it, marquis?" - -"I am sure of it," replied the marquis, pressing Michel's hand -affectionately. "Let us see, Master Michelangelo, when are you coming to -see my pictures and dine with me?" - -"He also declares," said the princess, hastily, "that he will never dine -with people of our sort without his father." - -"Why this exaggerated timidity, pray?" said the marquis, fixing his eyes -upon Michel's with an expression of penetrating intelligence, in which a -touch of severity was mingled with kindliness; "can it be that Michel is -afraid that you or I would make him blush because he is not yet as -respectable as his father? You are young, my boy, and no one can expect -to find in you the virtues for which the noble-hearted Pier-Angelo is -admired and loved; but your intelligence and your excellent sentiments -are enough to justify you in going anywhere with confidence, without -being compelled to efface yourself in your father's shadow. However, -have no fear; your father has already promised to come to dine with me -the day after to-morrow. Will it be convenient for you to accompany him -on that day?" - -Michel having accepted, struggling the while to conceal his confusion -and surprise beneath an affected ease of manner, the marquis added: - -"Now allow me to tell you that we shall dine together on the sly: your -father was accused of conspiracy long ago; I am an object of suspicion -to the government; we still have enemies who may accuse us again of -conspiring." - -"Well, good-night, Michelangelo, we shall meet again soon," said the -princess, observing Michel's bewilderment; "be charitable enough to -believe that we know how to appreciate real merit, and that we did not -wait for yours to be revealed before discovering your father's. Your -father has been our friend for many years, and if he does not eat at my -table every day, it is because I fear to expose him to persecution by -his enemies by making him conspicuous." - -Michel was perturbed and out of countenance, although he would not for -anything in the world have given the impression that he was dazzled by -the sudden favors of fortune; but at heart he felt humiliated rather -than overjoyed by the affectionate lesson he had received. "For it was a -lesson," he said to himself, when the princess and the marquis, being -accosted by other guests, had walked away, after bidding him good-night -with a friendly nod; "these wise and philosophical grandees gave me to -understand clearly enough that their affability is a mark of homage -bestowed upon my father rather than myself. I am invited on his account, -not he on mine; so that it is not my merit which procures me these marks -of distinction, but my father's virtuous qualities. O God! forgive me -for the proud thoughts that led me to desire to enter upon my career -apart from him! I was mad, I was wicked; I have received a most useful -lesson from these great nobles, upon whom I sought to impose respect for -my origin, and who have, or pretend to have, a more heartfelt respect -for it than I have myself." - -But the young artist's wounded pride soon recovered from this blow. "I -have it!" he cried, after musing a few moments. "These people are deep -in politics. They are still conspiring. Probably they did not even take -the trouble to look at my paintings, or else they know nothing about -art. They pet and flatter my father, who is one of their tools, and they -are trying to gain possession of me, too. Ah well! if they wish to -arouse Sicilian patriotism in my bosom, let them go about it in a -different way and not attempt to exploit my youth without advantage to -my reputation! I see their object; but they shall learn to know me. I am -willing to be the victim of a noble cause, but not the dupe of other -people's ambition." - - - - -XV - -ROMANTIC LOVE - - -"But," said Michel to himself, "are the patricians all alike in this -island? Does the age of gold still flourish in Catania, and do the -servants alone retain the pride of prejudice?" - -The majordomo had just passed and saluted him with a depressed and -crestfallen air. Doubtless he had been reprimanded, or expected to be. - -Michel was passing through the dressing-room, resolved to go home, when -he saw Pier-Angelo holding the wadded great-coat of an old noble in a -light wig, who was feeling about for the arm-holes, shaking as with -palsy. Michel blushed at that sight, and quickened his pace. In his -opinion, his father was much too good-natured, and the man who allowed -himself to be waited upon thus gave an explicit contradiction to the -conjectures in which he had just been indulging concerning the -noble-hearted generosity of the great. - -But he did not escape the humiliation he shunned. "Ah!" cried -Pier-Angelo, "there he is, monsignor! Look, you were asking me if he was -a handsome boy; look at him!" - -"Ah! upon my word, the rascal is well turned, and no mistake!" said the -old noble, standing in front of Michel, and eying him from head to foot, -as he wrapped his coat about him. "I am much pleased with your -decorative work, my boy; I noticed it particularly. I was just telling -your father, whom I have known a long while, that you will deserve to -succeed him some day in his trade; and if you don't go about town too -much, you'll never land in the gutter. At all events, if you ever do get -there, it will be your own fault. Call my carriage for me. Be quick; -there is quite a cool wind to-night, and it's a bad thing when one has -just been in such a suffocating crowd." - -"A thousand pardons, your excellency," rejoined Michel, frantic with -rage. "I am afraid of the wind myself." - -"What does he say?" the old man asked Pier-Angelo. - -"He says that your excellency's carriage is at the door," replied Pier, -struggling hard to keep from roaring with laughter. - -"Very good; I will hire him by the day, with you, when I have work for -you." - -"Oh! father!" cried Michel, as soon as the old nobleman had gone, "how -can you laugh? That impertinent man treats you like a footman, and you -accept such treatment with a smile!" - -"It makes you angry," said Pier, "but why? I am laughing at your anger -and not at the goodman's lack of ceremony. Didn't I promise to help the -people of the house in every way? I happen to be here; he asks me for -his great-coat; he is old, infirm, foolish--three reasons why I should -take pity on him. And why should I despise him, pray?" - -"Because he despises you!" - -"According to your ideas, but not according to his conception of the -things of this world. He is an old devotee, formerly a great rake. In -the old days he seduced the daughters of the common people; to-day he -bestows alms on the poor mothers. God will forgive him for his early -sins, beyond any doubt. Why should I be more straitlaced than the good -Lord! I tell you that the differences which social customs create among -men are neither so important nor so real as you think, my child. They -are all disappearing little by little, and if those who are inordinately -sensitive would be a little less stiff, all those barriers would soon be -nothing but empty words. For my part I laugh at those who consider -themselves so much better than I am, and I never lose my temper. It is -not in any man's power to humiliate me, so long as I am at peace with my -conscience." - -"Do you know, father, that you are invited to dine with the Marquis -della Serra on the day after to-morrow?" - -"Yes, that is understood," replied Pier-Angelo, coolly. "I accepted this -invitation because he is not tiresome like most of the great nobles. Ah! -what a price some of them would have to pay me to induce me to pass a -couple of hours with them! But the marquis is a man of intellect. Do you -mean to go there with me? Don't accept unless you choose, Michel; do you -understand? You must not stand on ceremony with any one if you wish to -retain your openness of heart." - -There was evidently a wide difference between Pier-Angelo's idea of the -honor conferred upon him by such an invitation and the idea that Michel -had conjured up of his triumphal entrance into society. Intoxicated at -first by what had seemed to him to be love on the part of the princess; -then bewildered by the amiability of the marquis, which tended to -diminish the force of the portent, but did not explain it; and, lastly, -irritated by the insolence of the man in the great-coat, he did not know -which way to turn. His theories concerning the victories of talent fell -to the ground before the heedless simplicity of his father, who accepted -everything--homage and disdain--with placid gratitude or satirical -amusement. - -At the doors of the palace Michel met Magnani, who was also going away. -But, after walking a few steps, the two young men, revived by the -morning air, determined, instead of going to bed, to skirt the hill and -watch the rising of the sun, which was just beginning to whiten the -sides of Ætna. They paused on a small hill, about the half height of -Ætna itself, and seated themselves on a picturesque spot, having at -their right the Villa Palmarosa, still gleaming with light and echoing -with the strains of the orchestra; on their left the towering cone of -the volcano, with the vast slopes forming an amphitheatre of verdure, -rocks and snow to the summit. It was a strange and superb spectacle. -Everything was ill-defined in that boundless expanse, and the -_piedimonta_ could hardly be distinguished from the upper belt, called -_nemorosa_ or _silvosa_. But while the dawn, reflected in the sea, -suffused the lower portion of the picture with a pale, vague light, the -bold, jagged edges and immaculate snow of the peak were sharply outlined -against the transparent atmosphere of the night, which was still a deep -blue and studded with stars about the giant's head. - -The sublime tranquillity, the imposing serenity of the towering peaks, -presented a marked contrast to the commotion all about the palace. The -music, the shouts of the servants, the rumbling of the carriages, -seemed, in the presence of placid, silent Ætna, a satirical epitome of -human life as compared with the mysterious abyss of eternity. As the -light grew stronger the peaks became less distinct, and the gorgeous -streamer of reddish smoke that had cut the deep blue sky became blue -itself, and wound upward like an azure serpent against an opal -background. - -Then the picture changed, and the contrast was reversed. The commotion -and noise rapidly subsided about the palace, and the horrors of the -volcano became visible; the formidable inequalities of its surface, its -yawning chasms, and all the marks of desolation it had left upon the -soil from its crater to its base, even beyond the point from which -Michel and Magnani were gazing at it, even to the very seashore, where -Catania lies, imprisoned by countless blocks of lava as black as ebony. -That awe-inspiring marvel of nature seemed to be defied and insulted by -the joyous airs which the orchestra was playing, softly now, and by the -fast-dying illuminations which crowned the main façade of the palace. -Now and again the music and the candles seemed to make an effort to -revive. Evidently some indefatigable dancers compelled the musicians to -shake off their torpor. Perhaps the burnt-out candles set fire to their -collars of pink paper. One would have said, watching that brilliant and -echoing structure, that the heedless gayety of youth was struggling -against the prostration of sleep or the languor of sensual desire, while -the undying scourge of that sublime country sent its blazing smoke into -the air, a menace of destruction which could not always be defied with -impunity. - -Michelangelo Lavoratori was absorbed by the spectacle of the volcano, -Magnani's eyes were fixed more frequently on the villa. Suddenly he -uttered an exclamation, and his young friend, following the direction of -his glance, saw a white figure which seemed to be floating in space. It -was a woman walking slowly on the high terrace of the palace. - -"She, too," cried Magnani, involuntarily, "is watching the sun rise over -the mountain. She, too, is musing, and, it may be, sighing!" - -"Who?" queried Michel, whose mind had hardened itself somewhat to eject -its own chimera. "Are your eyes sharp enough to see from here whether it -is Princess Agatha or her maid who is taking the air on the terrace?" - -Magnani hid his face in his hands and made no answer. - -"Come, my friend," said Michel, obeying a sudden inspiration, "be frank -with me. The great lady with whom you are in love is the Princess -Agatha?" - -"Well, why should I not admit it?" rejoined the young mechanic, in a -profoundly sorrowful tone; "it may be that I shall soon repent of having -confided to a child whom I hardly know a secret which I have never -allowed those who should be my best friends to suspect. There must be -some fateful reason for this longing to unbosom myself which has -suddenly drawn me toward you. Perhaps it is the late hour, the fatigue, -the excitement caused by the music and lights and perfumes; I do not -know. Perhaps, rather, it is because I feel that you are the only person -here who is capable of understanding me, and that you are mad enough -yourself not to be too severe upon my madness. Well, yes, I love her! I -fear her, I hate her, and I adore her all at once--that woman who is -unlike all other women, whom no one knows, and whom I do not know -myself." - -"I certainly shall not laugh at you, Magnani; I pity you, I understand -you and I love you, because I think that I can detect a certain -similarity between you and me. I, too, am excited by the perfumes, the -intense brilliancy of that ball, and the noisy dance-music, in which my -imagination detects such an undertone of gloom and melancholy through -its false liveliness. I, too, feel over-excited and a little mad at this -moment. I fancy that there is some deep mystery in our sympathetic -feeling for each other." - -"Because we both love her!" cried Magnani, beside himself. "Why, Michel, -I guessed it from the first glance you bestowed upon her; you, too, love -her! But you are loved by her, or will be, and she will never love me!" - -"Loved, I shall be loved, or am already! What are you saying, Magnani? -you are raving!" - -"Listen to me; I must tell you how this disease took possession of me, -and perhaps you will understand what is taking place in yourself. Five -years ago my mother was ill. The doctor who attended her, for charity's -sake, had almost given her up; her case seemed hopeless. I was sitting -with my face in my hands, weeping bitterly, at the gate of our little -garden, which opens on a street which is almost always deserted, and -which ends in the fields on the outskirts of the town. A woman wrapped -in a cloak passed the gate and stopped: 'Young man,' she said, 'why do -you grieve so? what can I do to lighten your sorrow?'--It was almost -dark and her face was hidden; I could not see her features, and her -voice, which was extremely sweet, was unfamiliar to me. But her -pronunciation and her manner convinced me that she did not belong to our -class. - -"'Signora,' I replied, rising, 'my poor mother is dying. I ought to be -with her, but, as she is fully conscious and I have reached the end of -my courage, I came outside to weep, so that she should not hear me. I am -going back to her, for it is cowardly to weep like this.' - -"'Yes,' she said, 'we must have enough courage to lend some to those who -are struggling in the death agony. Go back to your mother; but tell me -first if all hope is lost? has she no doctor?' - -"'The doctor has not been to-day, and I understand that he can do -nothing more.' - -"She asked me the doctor's name and my mother's, and when I answered, -she said: 'What! has she grown so much worse during the night? he told -me last evening that he still hoped to save her.' - -"These words, which she involuntarily let fall did not lead me to think -that it was the Princess of Palmarosa who was speaking to me. I did not -then know what many people do not know to-day, that that charitable -woman paid several doctors to attend the poor of the city, the suburbs, -and the country; that, without ever appearing in person, unwilling to -receive the reward of her good works in the esteem and gratitude of -others, she gave the most assiduous and careful attention to all the -details of our hardships and our necessities. - -"I was too much engrossed by my grief to pay the same attention to her -words that I afterwards paid to them. I left her; but when I entered my -poor invalid's room, I saw that the veiled lady had followed me. She -approached my mother's bed without speaking, took her hand and held it a -long time, leaned over her, looked into her eyes, listened to her -breathing, and finally said in my ear: 'Young man, your mother is not so -ill as you think. She still has some strength and vitality. The doctor -did wrong to give up hope. I will send him to you and I am sure that he -will save her.' - -"'Who is this woman?' my mother asked in a feeble voice; 'I do not -recognize you, my dear, but I recognize everybody else here.' - -"'I am a neighbor of yours,' replied the princess, 'and I came to tell -you that the doctor is coming soon.' - -"She went out, and my father at once exclaimed: 'That woman is the -Princess Agatha! I recognized her perfectly.' - -"We could not believe my father; we supposed that he was mistaken, but -we did not have time to discuss the question much. Mother said that she -felt better, and the doctor soon arrived, ordered other remedies, and -left us, saying that she was saved. - -"And so she was; and since then she has always insisted that the veiled -lady she saw at her death-bed was her patron saint, who had appeared to -her just as she was praying to her, and that the breath of that blessed -spirit had restored her life as by a miracle. We cannot disabuse my dear -mother's mind of that pious and poetic idea, and my brothers and -sisters, who were children then, share it with her. The doctor always -pretended that he didn't know what we meant when we talked about a woman -in a black _mazzaro_, who had just entered the house and gone out again, -saying that he was coming, and that my mother was saved. - -"They say that the princess requires absolute secrecy from all those -whom she employs in her good works, and indeed they go so far as to say -that her modesty in that respect amounts to a mania. Her secret was kept -for many years; but the truth always comes out at last, and now many -know that she is the hidden providence of the unfortunate. But see the -injustice and absurdity of human judgments! Some of our people declare -that she once committed a crime, and made a vow to atone for it; that -her noble and saintly life is a self-imposed, terrible penance; that in -her heart she hates all mankind so bitterly that she will never exchange -a sympathetic word with those whom she assists; but that the fear of -everlasting punishment impels her to devote her life to works of -charity. Isn't it horrible to form such judgments? And yet that is what -I have heard said, in a very low tone, it is true, by old women who have -called to see my mother in the evening, and it is sometimes repeated by -younger people, who are impressed by these extraordinary conjectures. -For my own part, I was fully convinced that I had not seen a phantom, -and although my father, fearing lest he might lose the princess's -good-will if he betrayed her incognito, dared not repeat that it was she -who had appeared to us, he said it at first so naturally and so -confidently that I could not doubt it. - -"As soon as my mother was convalescent, I went and offered to pay the -doctor for his services; but he refused my money, as did the druggist. -They replied to my questions according to the lesson that had been -taught them, that a secret association of wealthy and devout people paid -them for their trouble and outlay." - - - - -XVI - -CONCLUSION OF MAGNANI'S STORY - - -"My brain began to work," said Magnani, continuing his narrative. "As -the grief that had overwhelmed me gave place to joy, the romantic -portion of my adventure recurred to my memory. The slightest details -stood out distinctly and assumed an intoxicating charm. That woman's -soft voice, her graceful figure, her noble carriage, her white hand, -were constantly in my mind. A ring which she wore, of a curious shape, -had attracted my attention when she felt my poor mother's pulse. - -"I had never entered the Palmarosa palace. It is not open to strangers -or to inquisitive natives, like most of the ancient abodes of our -patricians. The princess has lived in retirement there, hidden from the -world, so to speak, ever since her father's death, receiving very few -visitors, going out only at night, and that very rarely. I had to watch -for an opportunity to see her near at hand, for I was determined to see -her with the eyes which I had for her alone thenceforth. I had never -desired before that time to see her features, and she had shown them so -seldom in ten years that the people of the suburb had forgotten them. -When she rode out the shades were lowered, and when she went to church -her head was completely enveloped in her black mantilla. Indeed, it was -commonly said among us that she had once been very beautiful, but that -she had had a scrofulous eruption on her face which made her so -frightful that she preferred not to show herself. - -"All this was simply vague rumor, for my father and other mechanics whom -she employed laughed at these stories, and declared that she was the -same as always. But my youthful brain was affected, none the less, by -these contradictory reports, and my desire to see that woman was blended -with an indefinable dread which prepared me by slow degrees for the -madness of falling in love with her. - -"One fact in particular added to my ardent longing. My father, who went -often to the palace, as a simple journeyman, to assist the master -upholsterer to hang and drape curtains and the like, refused to take me -there with him, although I was accustomed to go everywhere else with -him. He had often put me off with excuses which I accepted without -examining them; but when my longing to find my way into that sanctuary -became overpowering, he was compelled to admit that the princess did not -like to see young people in her house, and that the master upholsterer -carefully excluded them when he went there with his workmen. This -extraordinary restriction served only to inflame my desire. One morning -I resolutely took my hammer and my apron and entered the Palmarosa -palace, carrying a prie-Dieu covered with velvet, which my father had -just finished in his employer's workshop. I knew that it was made for -Signora Agatha; I consulted nobody, but took possession of it and -started. - -"That was five years ago, Michel! The palace which you see at this -moment, so resplendent, with its doors wide open, and filled with -people, was just the same a month ago as it was at the time of which I -am telling you, just the same as it had then been during the five years -that had passed since she was left an orphan and mistress of her own -life, and as it probably will be again to-morrow. It was a tomb in which -she seemed to have buried herself alive. All the treasures to-day spread -out for everyone to see were buried in darkness under layers of dust, -like relics of the dead in a tomb. Two or three servants, dismal and -silent, walked noiselessly through the long galleries closed to the -sunlight and the outer air. On all sides thick curtains hanging before -the windows, doors which refused to swing on their rusty hinges, an air -of solemn neglect, statues standing erect in the shadow like ghosts, -family portraits that followed you with their eyes with a distrustful -air. I was frightened, and yet I walked on. The house was not so -jealously guarded as I expected. It had invisible sentinels in its -reputation for inhospitable gloom and the dread of its loneliness. I -carried thither the insane audacity of my twenty years, the ill-fated -rashness of a heart enamored in anticipation, and rushing headlong to -its destruction. - -"By a chance which seemed like fatality, I was not questioned by anyone. -The few servants of that dismal abode did not see me, or did not think -of preventing me from proceeding, relying, perhaps, upon some Cerberus -nearer to the person of their mistress, whose duty it was to guard the -door of her apartments, and who, by some miracle, happened not to be -there. - -"Instinct or destiny guided me. I passed through several rooms, I put -aside heavy, dust-covered portières; I passed through one more open -door and found myself in a very richly furnished room, where a -full-length portrait of a man occupied a panel of the wall directly -opposite me. I stopped. That portrait sent a shudder through my veins. I -recognized it from my father's description of the original, whose -character was then a much more common subject of anecdote and gossip -among our people than the peculiarities of the princess. It was the -portrait of Dionigi Palmarosa, Princess Agatha's father, and I must tell -you something of that terrible man, Michel; for it may be that you have -not as yet heard his name in this country, where nobody mentions it -except in fear and trembling. Indeed, I see that I should have mentioned -him to you before, for the hatred and terror which his memory inspires -would have explained to you in some measure the distrust, and even -malevolence with which his daughter, despite all her virtues, is -regarded by some persons of our station in life. - -"Prince Dionigi was a fierce, despotic, cruel and overbearing man. The -pride of birth made him almost insane, and every indication of spirit or -of resistance on the part of his inferiors was punished with incredible -arrogance and severity. Vindictive to excess, he had, it was said, -killed his wife's lover with his own hand, and worried her to death, -poor creature, in a sort of captivity. He was bitterly detested by his -equals, and still more bitterly by the poor, whom he assisted, however, -on occasion, with lordly liberality, but in such a humiliating way that -one felt degraded by his benefactions. - -"Now you will understand better the small degree of sympathy which his -daughter has acquired. It seems to me that the constraint in which she -passed her early youth, under the iron rule of such a detestable father, -may well explain her reserved disposition, and what I may call the -premature withering or repression of her heart. Doubtless she is afraid -of reawakening antipathies connected with the name she bears, by -entering into relations with other people; and if she avoids intercourse -with her fellow men, it is for reasons which should arouse the -compassion and deep interest of fair-minded persons. - -"A single other fact will serve to exhibit Prince Dionigi's disposition. -About fifteen or sixteen years ago, I think--it is all very vague in my -boyish memories,--a young mountaineer in his service, being maddened -beyond endurance by the harshness of his language, ventured, they say, -to shrug his shoulders as he held the stirrup for the prince to dismount -from his horse. He was a worthy, honest fellow, but proud and of violent -temper. The prince struck him a vicious blow. Thereafter they hated each -other intensely, and the groom--his name was Ercolano--left the -Palmarosa palace, saying that he knew the great secret of the family and -that he would soon have his revenge. What was that secret? He had no -time to reveal it, and no one ever knew what he had to reveal; for they -found Ercolano the next morning on the seashore, murdered, with a dagger -bearing the Palmarosa arms in his breast. His relations dared not demand -justice, they were poor!" - -Magnani had reached this point when the white figure they had seen -wandering about the terrace crossed the flower-garden once more and went -inside. Michel shuddered from head to foot. - -"I don't know why your story has such an effect upon me," he said. "I -seem to feel the cold blade of that dagger in my breast. That woman -terrifies me. A strange superstition is creeping into my mind. A person -cannot have a murderer's blood in her veins without having either a -wicked heart or an unhinged mind. Give me a chance to breathe, Magnani, -before you finish your story." - -"The painful emotion that you feel, the dark thoughts that come to your -mind," rejoined Magnani, "all fell to my lot at sight of Dionigi's -portrait; but I passed on and through another door; the staircase -leading to the casino was before me, and I found myself in the -princess's oratory, where I set down the prie-Dieu and looked about me. -No one there! I had no excuse for going farther; the mistress of that -depressing mansion had evidently gone out. So I must needs retire -without seeing her, lose the benefit of my audacity, and perhaps never -again have the courage or the opportunity. - -"It occurred to me to make a noise to attract her attention, in case she -were in the adjoining room; for I was certainly in her apartments, I -could not doubt it. I took my hammer and struck the gilt nails of the -prie-Dieu, as if I were putting the finishing touch to it. - -"My stratagem succeeded.--'Who is there? who is making such a noise?' -said a faint voice, with a pure and distinct enunciation which left no -doubt in my mind of the identity of that voice with that of the -mysterious visitor whose accents had not ceased to echo in my heart like -an ineffably sweet melody. - -"I walked toward a velvet portière and raised it with the determination -born of a last hope. I saw a woman reclining on a couch, in a bedroom -sumptuously furnished in antique style: it was the princess; I had -roused her from her siesta. - -"My appearance terrified her beyond words; she leaped into the middle of -the room as if she would fly. Her lovely face, whose gentle and somewhat -languid serenity I had been able to contemplate with admiration for a -second, was distorted by childish, incredible terror. - -"I hastened to retrace the steps I had taken.--'I beg your excellency -not to be frightened,' I said: 'I am only a poor upholsterer's -apprentice, an awkward lout, ashamed of my mistake. I thought that your -highness was out, and I was working here----' - -"'Go away!' she exclaimed, 'go away!' - -"And with a gesture in which there was more bewilderment and dismay than -sternness and anger, she pointed to the door. - -"I attempted to go, but I seemed to be rooted to the floor as in a -dream. Suddenly I saw the princess, who had risen with extraordinary -vehemence, turn as pale as a lovely lily; her breathing ceased; her head -fell back; her arms dropped at her sides. She would have fallen to the -floor had I not rushed to her and caught her in my arms. - -"She had lost consciousness. I placed her on her couch, I was so -bewildered that it did not occur to me to call for help. Indeed what -would have been the use of ringing? Everybody was asleep or attending to -his special duty in that house, where silence and solitude alone seemed -to be absolute masters. May God forgive me! Twenty times since then I -have been tempted to enter her service as a footman! - -"Oh! Michel, it would be impossible for me to tell you to-day what took -place within me during the two or three minutes that that woman lay -stretched out like a dead woman before my eyes, with her lips as white -and dry as pure wax, her eyes half-open, but strange and expressionless, -her dark hair falling over her brow on which the cold perspiration stood -in beads, and all that exquisite, refined beauty, above all comparison -in my thought. It was not the intoxicating flame of a gross animal -passion that was kindled in my plebeian blood. It was adoration, as pure -and timid and refined and mysterious as the being who inspired it. I -felt an irresistible longing to prostrate myself at the feet of a dead -and gone martyr, for I thought that she was dead, and it seemed as if my -soul were ready to leave the earth with hers. - -"I dared not touch her; I did not know what to do to restore her. I had -no voice with which to call for help. I was motionless in my perplexity, -as one is when struggling violently in a horrible dream. At last a phial -fell under my hand, I know not how. She recovered consciousness little -by little, looked at me without seeing me, not understanding or seeking -to understand who I could be. At last she raised herself on her elbow -and seemed to be collecting her thoughts. - -"'Who are you, my friend?' she said, seeing me on my knees by her side, -'and what do you want? You seem to feel very sorrowful.' - -"'Ah! yes, your highness, God is my witness that I am very unhappy to -have frightened you so.' - -"'You did not frighten me,' she said, with an evident embarrassment -which astonished me. 'Did I cry out?--Ah! yes,' she continued, with a -shudder, yielding once more to an impulse of distrust or alarm.--'I was -asleep; you came in; you frightened me. I do not like to be surprised in -that way. But did I say anything unkind to you, that you weep?' - -"'No, your highness,' I replied; 'you fainted, and I would rather have -died than have caused you this discomfort.' - -"'Am I alone here, pray?' she cried in a tone of distress that tore my -heart. 'Can anybody who pleases enter my apartments and insult me?'--She -rose and ran to her bell-rope. She seemed desperate--beside herself. Her -words and her excitement had affected me so painfully that it did not -occur to me to fly. And yet, if she had rung--if anyone had come--I -should have been treated like a criminal. But she stopped, and the -expression of her face told me the truth at once concerning her -disposition. - -"It was a blending of unhealthy suspicion and sympathetic kindliness. -She had been so wretchedly unhappy in her early youth--so everyone said! -At all events, she could not have been ignorant of her father's -execrable character. She may have witnessed some murder in her -childhood. Who knows what scenes of violence and terror have been -enacted behind the thick walls of that dumb mansion? It was by no means -impossible that she might have acquired therefrom some mental malady of -which I had just witnessed an outbreak; and yet what angelic sweetness -her glance expressed when she dropped the bell-cord, apparently overcome -by my humble attitude and the grief by which I was overwhelmed! - -"'You came in here by chance, did you not?' she said. 'You did not know -that it is a whim of mine not to like new faces; or, if you did know it, -you had the courage to disregard my orders, because you have had some -misfortune which I can lighten? I have seen you somewhere; I have a -vague remembrance of your features. Your name is----?' - -"'Antonio Magnani, your highness. My father works here sometimes.' - -"'I know him; he has some little means. Is he sick? Has he run in debt?' - -"'No, signora,' I replied, 'I do not ask alms, although you are the only -person on earth from whom I could accept alms without blushing. I have -long wished to see you; not to beg from you, but to bless you. You saved -my mother; you encouraged me. You leaned over her pillow; you restored -my hope and her life. That is certain; of course you do not remember it, -but I shall never forget it. May God reward you for what you did for us! -That is all I wanted to say to your highness; and now I will go away, -begging you not to blame anyone, for the fault is entirely mine.' - -"'I will not tell anyone that you came into my house in spite of my -orders,' she said. 'Your employer and your father would reprove you for -it. Nor do you say that you saw me in such a fright. People would say -that I am mad, as they say now, I believe, and I do not much like to -have people talk about me. As for your thanks, I do not deserve them. -You are mistaken; I never did anything for you, my child.' - -"'Oh! I am not mistaken, your highness; I should have known you among a -thousand. The heart has instincts deeper and truer than the senses. You -do not wish your benefactions to be discovered, so I do not speak of -them. I do not intend to thank you for paying the doctor; no, you are -rich, and it is easy for you to give. But you are not obliged to love -and pity those whom you help. And yet you pitied me when you saw me -weeping at the door of the house where my mother lay dying, and you -loved my mother when you leaned over her bed of pain.' - -"'But I tell you again, my child, that I do not know your mother.' - -"'That is possible; but you knew that she was sick. You wished to see -her, and charity was in your very glance--how ardent at that -moment!--since your glance, your voice, your touch, your breath, cured -her as by a miracle. My mother was conscious of it; she remembers it; -she thinks that it was an angel who appeared to her; she addresses her -prayers to you because she thinks that you are in Heaven. But I was sure -that I should find you on earth, and should have an opportunity to thank -you.' - -"Princess Agatha's cold and impassive face relaxed as if involuntarily. -It lighted up for an instant with a warm glow of sympathy, and I saw -that treasures of kindliness were contending in that suffering heart -against a painful misanthropical propensity.--'Well,' she said, with a -divine smile, 'I see, at all events, that you are a good son and adore -your mother. God grant that I may in truth have brought her good -fortune! but I believe that God alone deserves thanks. Thank Him and -worship Him, my child; He alone understands and can relieve certain -sorrows, for men cannot do much for one another. How old are you?' - -"I was twenty at that time. She listened to my reply, and said, looking -at me as if she had not yet noticed my features: 'True, you are older -than I thought. You can come and work here when you choose. I am -accustomed to your face now, and it will not startle me again; but -another time do not wake me suddenly by hammering in my ears in that -way, for I am always depressed and nervous when I wake. That is my -disease!' - -"While she was speaking, and while she looked after me as I walked -toward the door, her eyes expressed this thought: 'I do not offer you my -assistance in life, but I will keep my eye on you, as I do on so many -others, and I will find ways to serve you without your knowledge; and I -will take measures to avoid having to listen to your thanks again.' - -"Yes, Michel, that is what was said by that face, at once angelic and -cold, maternal and unfeeling; a terrible enigma, which I have never been -able to solve, and which I am less able to solve to-day than ever." - - - - -XVII - -THE CYCLAMEN - - -Magnani ceased to speak, and it did not occur to Michel to question him. -But at last the young painter, coming to himself, asked his friend for -the rest of his story. - -"My story is at an end," replied Magnani. "Ever since that day I have -been admitted to the palace as a workman. I have often seen the -princess, but I have never spoken to her." - -"How does it happen, then, that you love her? for you do not know her? -you do not know her real opinions?" - -"I thought that I had guessed them. But, during this last week, when she -has seemed inclined to emerge suddenly from her tomb, throw open her -house, and take part in social life; especially to-day, when she has -been going about and conversing familiarly with people of our station, -with kindly words and cordial invitations--for I overheard the -conversation that you had with her and the Marquis della Serra on the -main staircase; I was close at hand,--I no longer know what to think of -her. Yes, even recently I thought that I had fathomed her character. -Twice a year, in spring and autumn, I have come here with other workmen, -I have seen her pass from time to time, walking slowly, with an -absent-minded, melancholy, yet perfectly tranquil air. If she sometimes -seemed downcast and distressed, the serenity of her glance was not -disturbed. She always bowed to us collectively with greater courtesy -than persons of her rank ordinarily show to us. Sometimes she would -exchange with the master upholsterer or my father a few pleasant words, -equally free from pride and from warmth. She seemed to feel an -instinctive respect for their years. I was the only young workman -admitted to her house, but she never seemed to pay the slightest -attention to me. She did not avoid my glances, but met them without -seeing them. - -"At certain times, however, I noticed that she saw many more things than -she seemed to see; and that people who complained, even when she did not -seem to hear them, obtained justice or help at once, without knowing -whose was the mysterious hand put forth over them. You see, she conceals -her boundless charity as other people conceal their shameful -selfishness. And you ask me how it happens that I love her! Her virtue -arouses my admiration, and the dumb despair which seems to be crushing -her inspires in my heart profound and affectionate compassion. To admire -and to pity--is not that to adore? The pagans, who have left so many -magnificent ruins on our soil, sacrificed to their gods, all radiant -with strength and glory and beauty; but they did not love them; and we -Christians have felt the light of faith pass from our minds into our -hearts, because God was shown to us in the guise of a bleeding, -tear-bedewed Christ. Ah! yes, I do love that woman, who has paled, like -a flower of the woods, beneath the terrible shadow of paternal tyranny. -I do not know the story of her infancy, but I divine the misery of her -girlhood. They say that, when she was fourteen, her father, being unable -to force her to marry in accordance with the views dictated by his pride -and ambition, to which he proposed to sacrifice her, confined her for a -long time in a secluded room of yonder palace, and that she suffered -there from hunger, thirst, heat, neglect, and despair. Nothing definite -has ever been known about it. Another version of the story also gained -currency; it was said that she was in a convent; but the terror-stricken -air of her servants said plainly enough that her disappearance was a -part of some unjust and unnatural punishment. - -"When Dionigi died, his heiress reappeared in the palace, with an old -aunt who was little better than he, but who allowed her to breathe a -little more freely. They say that at that time again she had several -brilliant offers of marriage, but that she obstinately refused, thereby -much angering the princess, her aunt. Her death put an end at last to -her niece's persecutions, and at the age of twenty she found herself -alone and free in the house of her fathers. But it was evidently too -late for her to rouse from the state of prostration to which so much -sorrow had brought her. She had lost the strength and the desire to be -happy. She was torpid, a little inclined to be morose, and seemingly -incapable of inviting the affection of others. She gained the affection, -however, of some persons of her own rank, and it is certain that the -Marquis della Serra, whom she refused to marry when he entered the lists -several years ago, has never ceased to love her ardently. Everybody says -so, and I know it; I will tell you how. - -"Although I pride myself, without undue boasting, on being a good -workman, I confess that when I am in the palace, I am, in spite of -myself, the slowest of the slow. I am excited and perturbed. The ring of -the hammers irritates my nerves, as if I were a silly girl; I am -overcome by the heat at the slightest exertion with my arms. Every -moment of the time I either have a feeling that I am going to faint, or -am tempted to creep into dark corners, crouch there out of sight, and -allow myself to be left behind. I surprise myself listening, prowling, -spying. I no longer dare to go into the princess's oratory or her -bedroom alone. Oh! no; although I know the road perfectly well. My -respect is stronger now than my insane and restless passion! But if I -can breathe the perfume that escapes through the chinks of the door of -her boudoir; if I can hear, even at a distance, the sound of her light -footsteps, which I know so well--then I am content, I am drunk with joy. - -"Thus I have heard, I dare not say involuntarily--for if chance placed -me within earshot, my will was not strong enough to prevent me from -listening,--more than one interview between the princess and the -marquis. How often have I been consumed by frantic jealousy? but I have -acquired certain knowledge that he is only her friend, a loyal, -respectful, submissive friend. - -"One day, among others, they had a conversation, every word of which, I -believe, is engraved with fatal distinctness on my memory. - -"The princess was saying when I entered the adjoining room: - -"'Oh! why question me so persistently? You know, my friend, that I am -absurdly impressionable; that the thought of the past freezes my blood, -and that, if I could make up my mind to speak of it--I believe, yes, I -believe that I should go mad!' - -"'Very well, very well,' he cried, 'let us not speak of it, let us be -content with our tranquil friendship. Look at that lovely sky and those -sweet cyclamens, which seem to smile in your hands.' - -"'These flowers do not smile,' she replied, 'you do not understand their -language, and I can tell you why I love them. It is because they are in -my eyes the emblem of my life and the image of my heart. See how -curiously limp they are; they are pure and fresh and fragrant; but is -there not something unhealthy and decrepit in the inversion and -unnatural upturning of their petals?' - -"'It is true,' said the marquis, 'they have a sort of dishevelled look; -they grow as a general rule on windswept peaks. One would say that they -were trying to fly away from their stalks as if there were nothing to -hold them, and that nature had provided them with wings like -butterflies.' - -"'And yet they do not fly away,' continued the princess; 'they are -firmly attached to their stalks. Although apparently fragile, there are -no hardier plants, and the most violent winds never strip them of their -petals. While the rose succumbs to a hot day, and strews the burning -earth with its leaves, the cyclamen is obstinate, and lives many days -and nights in retirement, and, as it were, shrunken into itself: it is a -flower that has no youth. You probably have never seen it just as it is -opening. I have patiently watched that mysterious process; when the bud -opens, the petals are rolled tightly together and separate with an -effort. The first one that frees itself stretches out like a bird's -wing, then throws itself backward and resumes its twisted position. -Another follows, and the flower, almost before it is open, is already -tremulous and wrinkled, as if it were about to die of old age. That is -its way of living, and it lives a long while so. Ah! it is a melancholy -flower, and that is why I carry it everywhere.' - -"'No, no, it does not resemble you,' said the marquis, 'for its -uncovered breast exhales its fragrance freely to all the winds of -heaven, whereas your heart is mysteriously closed, even to the most -discreet and least exacting affection!' - -"They were interrupted; but I knew enough. Ever since that day, I too -have loved the cyclamen, and I always cultivate it in my little garden; -but I dare not pluck the flowers and smell them. Their odor makes me ill -and drives me mad!" - -"It is the same with me," said Michel. "Yes, it is a dangerous odor! But -I no longer hear the carriages, Magnani. Doubtless the palace will soon -be closed. I must go and join my father, for he must be tired out, -whatever he may say, and he may need my help." - -They walked in the direction of the ball-room. It was deserted; Visconti -and his fellow-servants were extinguishing the candles which were still -carrying on the struggle against the daylight. - -"Why this fête after all?" said Magnani, as he glanced about that -immense hall, whose height seemed to be doubled by the darkness -overhead, while the bluish rays of dawn crept sadly into the lower -portions through the open doors. "The princess might have helped the -poor in other ways, and I cannot yet understand why she submitted to -make this public demonstration of charity when she had always done good -so mysteriously hitherto. What miraculous change has taken place in our -reserved benefactress's existence? Instead of rejoicing at it, I, -although I would give my life for her, am hurt by it, and cannot think -of it without bitterness. I loved her as she was; I cannot understand -her when she is cured, consoled, and effusive. Is everybody to know her -and to love her now? People will no longer say that she is mad, that she -once committed a crime, that she is concealing a horrible secret, that -she is ransoming her soul by pious works, although she detests mankind! -Madman that I am! I am afraid of being cured myself, and I am jealous of -the happiness that she may have recovered! Tell me, Michel, do you -suppose that she has made up her mind to love the Marquis della Serra, -and that she will invite the court, the city, and the country, to -celebrate her betrothal magnificently under her own roof? She gave a -royal fête to-day; perhaps she will give a popular fête to-morrow. She -is making her peace with everybody; great and small will make merry at -her wedding! Ah! there will be dancing there! what fun for us, eh? and -how kind the princess is!" - -Michel remarked his companion's bitterness and irony; but although he -was conscious of a thrill of strange emotion at the idea of Agatha's -marriage to the marquis, he put all the more restraint upon himself. He, -too, had been struck to the heart, but the shock was too recent for him -to dare, or to deign, to give the name of love to his feeling. Magnani's -madness served as a warning to him. He pitied him, but there seemed to -him to be in that young man's abnormal position something humiliating to -which he did not choose to subject himself. - -"Come to your senses, my friend," he said. "Such a beautiful fête, at -night, has a tendency to excite one, especially when one is only a -spectator. But here comes the sun above the horizon, and it should -dispel all phantoms and all visions. I feel as if I had just waked from -a fantastic dream. Listen! The birds are singing outside; there is -nothing here but dust and smoke. I am very sure that your madness is not -so absorbing every hour of your life as you fancy at this moment of -excitement and unreserve. I will wager that when you have slept two -hours you will return to your work feeling like a different man. For my -part, I already feel the salutary effect of real life, and I promise you -that the next time we see the spectre pass close to us, I will not try -to dispute her glance with you." - -"Her glance!" cried Magnani, bitterly, "her glance! Ah! you remind me of -the glance she bestowed upon you, before the ball opened, the first time -she saw your face. My God! what an expression! If it had fallen upon me, -just once in my life, I would have killed myself instantly, in order not -to live any more upon certainty and cold reason, after such an illusion, -such delirious joy. And you, Michel, felt the consuming fire that she -communicated to you. You were scorched by it for an instant, and, but -for my mockery, you would still gloat over it with rapture. But what -does it matter to me now? I see clearly that she has lost her mind; that -she has deprived her solitary sorrow of its sanctity; that she loves -someone, you or the marquis--what matter which? Why this special display -of friendship for your father, whom she hardly knew a year ago? My -father has worked for her ever since she was born, and she barely knows -his name. Does she propose to cap the climax of her eccentric life by an -act of downright insanity? Does she propose to atone for her father's -tyranny and unpopularity by marrying a child of the people--a mere boy?" - -"You are the one who is mad," said Michel, disturbed and almost angry. -"Go and get a breath of fresh air, Magnani, and don't involve me in the -vagaries that your excitement suggests to you. Signora Agatha is -sleeping peacefully at this moment, remembering neither your name nor -mine. If she honored me with a kindly glance, it was because she loves -painting and is pleased with my work.--Look, my friend," added the young -artist, pointing to the figures of his fresco, upon which a rosy beam of -the morning sun shone through the open windows. "There are the only -intoxicating realities of my life. Let the lovely princess marry the -Marquis della Serra. I shall be very glad; he is a courteous gentleman, -and I like his face. I, when I choose, will paint a more perfect and -less problematical divinity than the pale-cheeked Agatha." - -"You, wretched boy? Never!" exclaimed Magnani, indignantly. - -"I agree that she is beautiful," rejoined Michel, with a smile. "I have -scrutinized her, and I have profited by that scrutiny. I have obtained -from her all that I should never ask her for, the spectacle of her grace -and her charms, to reproduce them and idealize them at my pleasure." - -"I have always been told that artists had hearts of ice," said Magnani, -staring at Michel in blank amazement. "You have seen the storm which -drives me wild, and you remain cold--you laugh at me! Ah! I blush to -think that I have betrayed my madness to you, and I am going away to -hide my head!" - -Magnani disappeared, frantic with excitement, and Michel was left alone -in the almost deserted ball-room. Visconti was extinguishing the last -candles, and Pier-Angelo, before taking his leave, was assisting to -restore order temporarily in that structure which was to be entirely -removed before evening. - -Michel also assisted, but languidly. His own reflections having cooled -his excitement, he felt utterly exhausted, mentally and physically. - -Magnani's abrupt outbreak disturbed him. He reproached himself because, -after undergoing in silence the rebound of the young mechanic's -agitation, he had not succeeded better in sympathizing with his trouble, -but had allowed him to go away uncomforted. On the other hand, he could -not avoid a slight feeling of irritation. It seemed to him that Magnani -had carried his effusiveness too far in seeking to convince him that he, -Michel, was the object of a sudden passion on the part of the princess. -It was so absurd, so improbable, that Michel, who was more -self-possessed, more of a man of the world at eighteen than Magnani -could ever be, shrugged his shoulders pityingly. - -And yet, self-esteem is such a persistent and impertinent adviser that -Michel now and again heard a voice within him saying: "Magnani has -guessed aright. Jealousy gives him a keenness of vision which you -yourself have not. Agatha loves you; she took fire at first sight. And -why should she not love you?" - -Michel was intoxicated and abashed at once by these flushes of vanity -which rose to his cheeks. He was in haste to return home and recover his -tranquillity altogether with sleep. And yet he desired to wait for his -father, who was still at work, zealous and indefatigable, attending to a -thousand minute details, a thousand apparently unnecessary precautions. - -"Patience!" said the excellent Pier-Angelo. "I shall have finished in a -minute; but I want our dear princess to be able to sleep in peace, and I -don't propose that anybody shall come here and make a racket before -to-night. Above all things, I don't propose to leave a single candle -lighted in any corner. Now is the time when there is most danger of -fire! Look! that idiot of a Visconti has left the lamp in the grotto -burning; I can see it from here. Go and put it out, Michel, and take -care not to spill oil on the couch." - -Michel went into the grotto of the naiad; but, before extinguishing the -lamp, he could not resist the temptation to gaze for a moment at the -beautiful statue, the lovely foliage with which he had decorated it, and -the couch whereon he had seen Agatha as in a dream. "How young she -looked and how lovely she was!" he thought; "and how that man who loves -her gazed at her, with an adoration which betrayed itself in spite of -him, and which infected the most immaterial portion of my heart! I -noticed others during the ball who stared at her with an insolence born -of desire, which made my whole being quiver with indignation! All these -great nobles love her, each in his own way, and she loves no one of -them!" - -And Agatha's glance passed through his memory like a lightning-flash, -its dazzling brilliancy putting to flight all reason, all fear of -ridicule, all self-distrust. - -While musing thus, he had extinguished the lamp, and had sunk upon the -cushions of the divan, expecting that his father would call him and that -he might enjoy one last moment of comfort before leaving that -fascinating grotto. - -But fatigue overpowered him. He could contend no longer against the -chimeras of his imagination. Half-reclining comfortably on the couch, -and alone for the first time in twenty-four hours, he rapidly lost -consciousness. For one moment he dreamed with his eyes open. The next -moment he was sleeping soundly. - - - - -XVIII - -THE MONKS - - -How many minutes,--or was it seconds only?--passed while Michel was -overpowered by that irresistible lassitude, he had no idea. The power of -the imagination, when transported into the domain of dreams, travels so -fast and surmounts so many obstacles at a single bound, that time is an -inadequate measure of it, especially in the first sleep. - -Michel had a strange dream. A woman softly entered the grotto, walked to -where he sat, leaned over him and gazed at him for a long time; he felt -her fragrant breath caress his brow, he fancied that he felt also the -fire of her glance fastened passionately upon him. But he could not see -her, for it was dark in the grotto, and, moreover, it was impossible for -him to raise his heavy eyelids; but it was Agatha; Michel's heart, -inflamed by that woman's presence, told him so plainly enough. - -At last, as he tried to rouse himself in order to speak to her, she -placed her cool, soft lips on his forehead and imprinted a kiss thereon, -so long, but so light, that he could not summon the strength to reply to -it, overcome as he was by joy, and at the same time by the fear that it -was only a dream. - -"But it is a dream, alas! it is nothing but a dream," he said to -himself, still sleeping; and yet the fear of waking caused him to wake. -So it is that, in sleep, the instinctive, frantic desire to prolong the -illusion causes it to vanish more quickly. - -But what a strange and persistent dream! Michel, with his eyes open, -sitting half erect, supported by his trembling arm, saw and heard that -woman fly. The curtain at the entrance of the grotto being lowered, he -could distinguish only an indistinct figure; he felt the touch of a silk -dress; the curtain opened and closed again so quickly that it seemed to -him that the phantom passed through without touching it. - -He started to follow her; but all his blood rushed back to his heart so -violently that he could not stand erect, but was compelled to fall back -on the divan, and it was a full minute before he was able to rush to the -blue velvet portière that separated him from the ball-room. - -He drew it aside with a convulsive gesture and found himself face to -face with his father, who said, with a jocose and placid air: - -"So it seems that we have been having a nap, eh, my boy? Now, everything -is in order; let us go home and see if little Mila is awake." - -"Mila?" cried Michel, "is Mila here, father?" - -"It may well be that she isn't far away," replied the old man. "I'll bet -that she hasn't closed her eyes all night; she was so anxious to come to -see the ball! But I forbade her to leave the house before daylight." - -"It is daylight now," said Michel, "and Mila is probably here! Tell me, -father, did some woman, my sister, perhaps, just come into the grotto?" - -"Did you dream it? I saw no one. To be sure, my eyes weren't looking in -that direction all the time, and I saw some striped skirts prowling -about outside, which meant that some curious creatures had stolen into -the garden. Can Mila have come in while my back was turned?" - -"Why, this very instant, father, just as you came to the opening, -someone went out, a woman; I am certain of it!" - -"You are talking at random now, for I saw nothing but my shadow on the -curtain. Come, you need a good nap, let us go home. They are just -closing the last door. If your sister is here we shall find her." - -Michel was about to follow his father; but as he was turning away he saw -something glistening in the grotto and was led to cast a last glance -inside. Was it a spark that had fallen on the carpet, near the couch? He -stooped: it was a piece of jewelry, which he picked up and examined by -daylight. It was the gold locket, surrounded with diamonds and bearing -the princess's crest, which she had given Mila. He opened it to make -sure that it was the same. He recognized a lock of his own hair inside. - -"I knew that Mila came into the grotto," he said to his father, as they -walked toward the garden; "she gave me a kiss which woke me." - -"She evidently must have gone in there," rejoined Pier-Angelo, -indifferently; "but I didn't see her." - -At that instant Mila emerged from a clump of magnolias, and came -forward, laughing and capering, to meet her father, whom she kissed -affectionately, as she did Michel. - -"It is high time for you to come home and rest," she said; "I came to -tell you that your breakfast is waiting. I was so impatient to see you! -Are you terribly tired, father, dear?" - -"Not at all," the good man replied, "I am used to these things, and a -sleepless night is all pleasure when you sup till morning. Your -breakfast will go begging, Mila; but your brother here is asleep on his -legs. Come, children; let us be off; see, they are closing the garden -gates now." - -But, instead of continuing to close the gates, the servants suddenly -threw them wide open again, and Michel saw a procession of monks file -in, monks of divers orders, all carrying wallets and purses; they were -the begging brothers of all the mendicant orders, which have numerous -establishments in Catania and its neighborhood. They were making their -usual round and had come to collect for their respective communities the -broken meat left from the fête. Some two score of them passed slowly -through the gate; most of them had asses to carry away the avails of -their quest. There was something so surprising and comical in their -obsequious manner and their solemn bearing when they entered the -gardens, escorted by their asses,--strange guests at a ball--that -Michel, diverted from his emotion, had much ado to keep from laughing. - -But no sooner were they fairly inside the gates than they broke ranks, -and, shaking off their consequential, discreet manner, began to run -toward the ball-room, each striving to outstrip his neighbors, beating -their asses to make them move faster, hurrying, jostling, and freely -exhibiting their greed and their jealousy. They overran the ball-room, -almost breaking down the fragile doors, and attempted to ascend the main -staircase of the peristyle, or to force their way into the kitchens. But -the butler and his _officers_, being prepared for the assault, and -knowing their ways, had carefully barricaded all the issues; they -brought forth the fragments destined for the monks, and distributed them -as impartially as possible. There were dishes of meat, remnants of -pastry, pitchers of wine, and even pieces of glass and porcelain which -had been broken during the fête, and which the good monks put together -with great care and mended most skilfully, for the adornment of their -own sideboards, or to sell to collectors. They quarrelled over the booty -with little decency, reviled the servants for not giving them all that -they were entitled to, for treating one better than another, for failing -in respect for the patron saints of their convents. They even threatened -them with the infirmities which those saints were supposed to be -especially skilful in curing when the afflicted person had acquired -their good-will. - -"Bah! what a miserable ham you have given me!" cried one. "You are -already deaf in one ear; you can depend upon it that before long you -will not be able to hear the thunder with the other." - - -[Illustration: _AFTER THE FÊTE._ - -"_Here's a bottle half empty!" cried another. -"No prayers will be said for you under our roof, -and you'll never be cured of the stone, if you take -that terrible disease._"] - - -"Here's a bottle half empty!" cried another. "No prayers will be said -for you under our roof, and you'll never be cured of the stone, if you -take that terrible disease." - -Others plied their trade gayly, with jests that made the distributors -laugh, and they showed so much wit and good-nature that the servants -secretly slipped the best pieces into their wallets. - -At Rome Michel had seen dandified Capuchins, redolent with perfume under -their frocks, and displaying their sandals, with poetic gravity, in -close proximity to the Holy Father's consecrated slipper. The -poverty-stricken Sicilian monks seemed to him very indecent, very -laughable, and ever so little cynical, when they swooped down upon the -crumbs of that feast like a flock of greedy crows and chattering -magpies. He was attracted, however, by the high-spirited and intelligent -faces of some of them. It was the Sicilian common people again, in the -sack-cloth of the cloister--a noble race which bends beneath the yoke -but cannot be broken. - -The young artist had returned to the ball-room to look on at this -curious spectacle, and he watched its various incidents with the -attention of a painter who turns everything to his own profit. He -noticed especially one of the monks, whose hood was pulled down to the -end of his beard, and who did not beg. He kept apart from the others, -and walked about the room as if he were more interested in the place -where the fête had been given than in the possible benefit he might -derive from it. Michel tried several times to see his features, and to -judge therefrom whether the intelligent mind of an artist or the regrets -of a man of the world were concealed beneath that monkish garb. He saw -him stealthily put aside his hood but once, and then he was impressed by -his repulsive ugliness. At the same instant the monk turned his eyes -upon him with an expression of malevolent curiosity; and instantly -looked away as if he feared to be surprised staring at other people. - -"I have seen that ugly face somewhere," said Michel to his sister, who -was standing by his side. - -"Do you call that a face?" replied the girl. "I saw nothing but a goat's -beard, the eyes of an owl, and a nose that looked like an old crushed -fig. You won't paint his portrait, I hope?" - -"You said just now, Mila, that you knew several of these monks from -having seen them begging in our suburb; have you ever met that fellow?" - -"I don't think so; but, if you are anxious to find out his name, it will -be very easy, for here is a brother who will tell me." - -And the girl ran to meet a monk who was the last to arrive, without a -wallet, and without an ass, but with a little purse simply. He was a -tall, handsome man, of uncertain age; his beard was still as black as -ebony, although his crown of hair was beginning to turn gray. The -keenness of his black eyes, the noble contour of his aquiline nose, and -the smile that played about his red lips, indicated robust health, -conjoined with an amiable and decided character. He had neither the -unhealthy thinness nor the absurd obesity of most of his brethren. His -chestnut-colored frock was neat and clean, and he wore it with a -majestic air. He won Michel's confidence at the first glance; but it -angered the young man to see Mila almost throw her arms about the -Capuchin's neck, and take his beard in her two little hands, laughing -and pretending that she proposed to kiss him whether he would or not. - -"Come, come, little one, softly, softly," said the monk, pushing her -away with fatherly gentleness. "No matter if I am your uncle, a monk -musn't be kissed." - -Thereupon, Michel bethought him of the Capuchin Paolo-Angelo, of whom -his father had so often spoken to him, and whom he had never seen. _Fra -Angelo_ was Pier-Angelo's brother in affection not less than by birth. -He was the youngest of Michel's uncles. His intellect and the dignity of -his character made him the pride of the family, and as soon as -Pier-Angelo saw him, he ran to Michel to introduce him. - -"Brother," said the old decorator, pressing the Capuchin's hand warmly, -"give my son your blessing; I should have brought him to your convent to -ask it before this if we had not been employed here a little beyond our -strength." - -"My child," said Fra Angelo to his nephew, "I give you the blessing of a -kinsman and a friend; I am happy to see you, and your face pleases me." - -"I can say the same," replied Michel, putting his hand in his uncle's. - -But, to manifest his affection, the good monk, who had the muscles of an -athlete, squeezed his fingers so hard that the young man thought for a -moment that the bones were broken. He did not wish to let it appear that -that caress was a little too rough; but the perspiration stood out on -his forehead, and he said to himself with a smile, that a man of the -build of his uncle, the Capuchin, was better adapted to demand alms than -to beg. - -But, as strength and gentleness almost always go hand in hand, Fra -Angelo approached the distributor of alms with a self-restraint and -reserve as marked as the eagerness and persistence of his fellows. He -saluted him with a smile, opened his purse without deigning to put out -his hand, and closed it without looking to see what had been put in it, -muttering a very laconic sentence of thanks; after which he returned to -his brother and nephew, refusing to burden himself with provisions of -any sort. - -"In that case," said a very pious footman, "you have not enough money!" - -"Do you think so?" rejoined the monk. "I have no idea. However little it -may be, the convent must needs be satisfied with it." - -"Do you wish me to go and demand more for you, my brother? If you will -promise to pray for me every day this week, I will make them give you -more." - -"Oh! don't take that trouble," replied the dignified Capuchin, with a -smile; "I will pray for you _gratis_, and my prayers will be worth all -the more. Your mistress, Princess Agatha, gives enough in charity, and I -come to her house only in obedience to my orders." - -"Uncle," said little Mila, in an undertone, "there is a brother of your -order yonder, whose face puzzles my father and brother. They think that -he looks like somebody else." - -"Somebody else? Whom do you mean?" - -"Look at him," said Pier-Angelo. "Michel is right, he has a bad face. -You must know him. He is standing all alone, over there under the -musicians' platform." - -"So far as his figure and his carriage are concerned, I don't recognize -him as any brother of our convent. And yet he wears the frock of a -Capuchin. But why does he interest you?" - -"Because it seems to us," said Pier, lowering his voice, "that he -resembles Abbé Ninfo." - -"In that case, off with you," said Fra Angelo, hastily. "I will go and -speak to him, and I will soon find out who he is and what he is here -for." - -"Yes, yes, let us go," said Pier-Angelo. "Go first, children. I will -follow you." - -Michel put his sister's arm through his, and they were soon on the way -to Catania. - -"It seems that this Abbé Ninfo wishes us ill," said Mila to her -brother, "and has the power to injure us. Do you know why, Michel?" - -"Not very well; but I am suspicious of a man who disguises himself, -apparently for the purpose of spying. Whether we are concerned or -somebody else, mystery conceals evil projects." - -"Psha!" said the heedless Mila, after a moment's silence, "perhaps he is -only a monk, like the rest. He stood apart and lurked in corners, as -some of them often do after the crowd has passed, on days of processions -or feast-days, to see if they can't find some jewel that somebody has -lost. Then they pick it up without a word and carry it to their convent, -to be surrendered to its owner in consideration of a round sum for one -or two masses, or to be used in unearthing some love secret; for these -good fathers are very inquisitive, as a general rule!" - -"You don't love the monks, do you, Mila? You are only half a Sicilian?" - -"That depends. I love my uncle and those who are like him." - -"By the way," said Michel, reminded by the words _lost jewel_ of the -adventure which the Capuchins had driven from his mind; "you had been in -the ball-room, hadn't you, a moment before I met you in the garden?" - -"No," she replied; "if you had not taken me in with you to watch the -monks beg, I never should have dreamed of going in. Why do you ask me -that? I saw the ball-room all finished before the fête. What do I care -to see an empty room where no one is dancing? It was the ball, the -dancing, the dresses, that I wanted to see! But you wouldn't take me -even as far as the door last night!" - -"Why not tell me the truth when the matter is of no importance? There is -nothing out of the way, my dear little sister, in your having come to -the naiad's grotto to wake me just now." - -"Father says that you are asleep on your legs, Michel, and I see that he -is quite right. I will take my oath that since yesterday morning, when I -brought you the leaves you asked me to pick, I have not been inside the -grotto." - -"Ah! Mila, this is too much. You used not to tell falsehoods, and I am -sorry to see that you have that wretched habit now." - -"Hush, brother, you insult me," said Mila, proudly withdrawing her arm. -"I have never lied, and I shall not begin to-day, just to please you." - -"Little sister," rejoined Michel, walking after her and quickening his -pace to keep up with her, for she was hurrying on ahead, hurt and -grieved, "will you please show me the locket Princess Agatha gave you?" - -"No, Master Michelangelo," retorted the girl, "you are not worthy to -look at it. In the days when I cut a lock of your hair to wear upon my -heart, you were not unkind as you have become since." - -"If I were in your place," said Michel, ironically, "I would take the -locket from my bosom and throw it in the face of the unkind brother who -teases me so!" - -"Here! take it!" said Mila, pulling the locket from her bosom, and -handing it to Michel with an angry gesture; "you can take back your -hair, I don't care for it any longer. But return me the locket; I care -for that because it was given me by somebody kinder than you." - -"Two lockets just alike!" said Michel to himself, placing them side by -side in his hand; "is this the sequel of my vision?" - - - - -XIX - -YOUTHFUL LOVES - - -Michel dared not ask his sister for the explanation of such a prodigy. -He ran and shut himself up in his little room, and, seating himself upon -his bed, instead of going to sleep, he opened and compared those two -precisely similar trinkets and their contents. They were absolutely -indistinguishable, as were the two locks of hair; so that, after Michel -had examined and handled them a long while, he no longer knew which -belonged to his sister. Thereupon he recalled a remark of hers, which -had made little impression upon him, although it had seemed somewhat -strange to him for an instant. Mila declared that the lock of hair she -had entrusted to the princess had diminished by one half in the -jeweller's hands. - -It was not possible to explain that curious fact. The princess did not -know Michel, she had never seen him; he had not returned to Catania when -she had taken Mila's scapulary and exchanged it for this beautiful -locket. It is difficult to believe that a woman can fall in love with a -man simply at sight of a lock of his hair. Michel cudgeled his brains to -no purpose. He could think of no explanation save this, which was far -from satisfactory to his intense curiosity: perhaps the princess had at -some time been attached to someone whose hair was of precisely the same -shade and texture as Michel's. She wore it in a locket. Observing Mila's -fervent adoration of that relic of her brother, she had ordered a locket -just like her own, and had given it to her. - -But how impossible are the probabilities of life to a mind of eighteen -years! Michel thought it much more probable that he had been loved -unseen; and when he was overcome by sleep, the two lockets were still in -his half-open hand. - -When he awoke about noon, he found only one of them; the other had -probably fallen among the bedclothes. He pulled his bed to pieces and -turned it upside down; passed an hour searching in all the cracks of his -floor, and all the folds of his clothes, which lay on a chair by his -pillow. One of the two talismans had disappeared. - -"This is a trick of Signorina Mila," he thought. His door closed with a -latch only, and the girl was singing over her work in the room -adjoining. - -"Ah! you are up at last!" she said with a pout, when he appeared in her -presence. "That is very lucky! Now will you kindly return my locket?" - -"I should say, my dear, that you came and took it while I was asleep." - -"Why, you have it in your hand!" she cried, seizing his hand -unexpectedly. "Come, open your fingers, or I will prick them with my -needle." - -"I will do it," he said, "but this locket isn't yours. You have already -taken the one that belongs to you." - -"Really!" said Mila, snatching the trinket from her brother's hand, for -he made little resistance, but watched her closely; "this is not mine? -Do you think I can be mistaken?" - -"In that case you have the other, Mila." - -"What other? Have you one also? I don't know anything about that; but -this is mine. Here is the princess's crest. It is my property; it is my -souvenir. Take back your hair. If we are at odds, I am willing you -should; but this locket shall never leave me again." - -And she replaced it in her bosom, by no means resolved to take out the -hair, for which she cared more than she chose to admit in her childish -wrath. - -Michel returned to his room. The other locket must be there. There was -so much candor and confidence in Mila's expression and her words! But he -found nothing, and so he determined to search his sister's room as soon -as she had gone out. Meanwhile, he tried to make peace with her. He -coaxed and cajoled her, and, vowing that all that had happened was only -a jest on his part, reproached her with being proud and sensitive. - -Mila consented to make peace and to kiss her brother; but she continued -to be somewhat downcast, and her lovely cheeks were tinged with a less -delicate flush than usual. - -"You chose a bad time to tease me," she said. "There are days when one -does not feel in the mood to endure raillery, and I thought that you -were teasing me on purpose to make sport of my disappointment." - -"Your disappointment, Mila!" cried Michel, pressing her to his heart -with a smile. "Have you been disappointed? Because you didn't see the -ball last night, I suppose? Oh! you are a very unfortunate little girl, -and no mistake!" - -"In the first place, Michel, I am not a little girl. I shall soon be -fifteen, and I am old enough to have disappointments. As for the ball, I -cared very little about it; and now that it's over, I don't think about -it at all." - -"What is this great sorrow, then? Do you want a new dress?" - -"No." - -"Your nightingale isn't dead?" - -"Don't you hear him singing?" - -"Perhaps our neighbor Magnani's big tom-cat has eaten up your -turtle-dove?" - -"I would like to see him try it! I tell you that I don't bother my head -about Signor Magnani or his cat." - -The tone in which she uttered Magnani's name made Michel prick up his -ears, and, upon glancing at his little sister's face, he saw that she -had her eyes fixed, not upon her work--although her head was bent--but -upon a wooden gallery where Magnani usually worked, opposite Mila's -chamber. At that moment Magnani was walking along his gallery. He did -not look at Mila's window, and Mila did not look at her work. - -"Mila, my darling child," said Michel, taking both her hands and kissing -them, "do you see that young man with the absent-minded air?" - -"Well," Mila replied, as the blood came and went in her cheeks, "what -about him?" - -"I want to tell you, my child, that if your heart is ever inclined to -love, you must not think of that young man." - -"What nonsense!" said the girl, shaking her head and trying hard to -laugh. "He is the last man of whom I should ever think, I tell you -that!" - -"Then you will be exceedingly wise," rejoined Michel, "for Magnani's -heart is not free; he has long been in love with another woman." - -"That doesn't concern me, and is of no possible interest to me," said -Mila; and, bending over her work, she turned her wheel swiftly. But -Michel was pained to see two great tears fall upon her skein of silk. - -Michel's heart was very tender. He understood the feeling of shame by -which his young sister was overwhelmed, and which added a fresh pang to -those from which he himself was suffering. He saw the superhuman efforts -that the poor child made to stifle her sobs and overcome her confusion. -He felt that that was not the moment to humiliate her more by insisting -upon an explanation. - -So he pretended to see nothing; and, thinking that he would reason with -her when she was more self-possessed, he left the room where she was -working. - -But he was so excited himself that he could not stay in his own room. He -made one last, fruitless search, and, abandoning the hope of finding the -vanished talisman,--hoping that it would appear when he was not thinking -about it, as often happens in the case of lost articles,--he determined -to go and see Magnani and make peace with him; for they had parted in -anger, and Michel, unable to avoid a secret feeling of pride in the -thought that the princess was madly in love with him, felt that his -generous solicitude for his unfortunate rival redoubled. - -He crossed the yard and entered Magnani's father's workroom on the -ground floor. But he looked in vain for Antonio in his room. His old -mother told him that he had gone out a moment before; but could not tell -him in what direction he had gone. Michel thereupon strolled into the -country, half thinking of overtaking him, half absorbed by his own -musings. - -Meanwhile Magnani, impelled by the same feelings of loyalty and regard, -had determined to go and see Michel. His modest dwelling had a second -exit, and the one that he took led less directly, through a dark and -narrow passage at the rear of the other two houses, to the poor, -old-fashioned house which Pier-Angelo occupied with his children. - -Thus the two young men did not meet. Magnani went upstairs and looked -into a large, bare, dilapidated room, where he saw Pier-Angelo stretched -out on his cot-bed, in a deep sleep which the emotions of love and youth -no longer disturbed. - -Thereupon Magnani climbed the staircase, or rather the ladder leading to -the attics, and entered Michel's chamber, which adjoined Mila's. - -Michel's door was open; Magnani went in, and, finding no one there, was -about to go out again, when the cyclamen, which Michel had carefully -placed in an old Venetian glass of curious workmanship, caught his eye. -Unquestionably Magnani was the soul of probity, the incarnation of -scrupulous honor; and yet it is not certain that, if he had dreamed that -that flower had fallen from the princess's bouquet, he would not have -stolen it. But it did not occur to him; he concluded simply that Michel, -like himself, had a passion for the cyclamen. - -Suddenly Magnani was roused from his contemplation by a sound which -startled him. Somebody was weeping in the adjoining room. He heard sobs, -stifled but heart-rending, behind the partition, not far from the door -between the two rooms. Magnani was well aware that Mila lived on that -floor. He had often nodded to her smilingly from his gallery, when he -saw her, blooming with youth and beauty, at her window. But, as she had -made no impression on his heart, and as he had never spoken to her -except as to a child, he did not consider at that moment the exact -location of her attic, nor indeed did he think of her at all. To be sure -there was nothing masculine in her manner of weeping, but in Michel's -voice there were some tones so youthful and so soft that it might well -be he who was mourning so. Magnani thought only of his young comrade, -and, full of solicitude for him, hastily opened the door and entered -Mila's room. - -At sight of him the girl uttered a loud shriek and fled to the farthest -corner of her room, hiding her face. - -"Mila, my dear little neighbor," cried honest Magnani, standing -respectfully near the door, "forgive me, do not be afraid of me; I made -a mistake, I heard someone weeping as if his heart would break, and I -thought it was your brother. I didn't stop to think, but rushed in here, -in my anxiety--but, great heaven, my dear child, why are you weeping -so?" - -"I am not weeping," replied Mila, stealthily wiping her eyes, and -pretending to look for something in an old chest of drawers against the -wall; "you are entirely mistaken. I thank you, Signor Magnani; but leave -me, you ought not to come into my room like this." - -"True, true, I know it, I am going away, Mila; and yet I don't dare to -leave you thus, you are too much overcome, I can see. I am afraid you -are sick. Let me go and wake your father, so that he can come and -comfort you." - -"No, no! do not think of it! I don't want you to wake him!" - -"But, my dear ----" - -"No, I tell you, Magnani; you would make me much worse if you should -cause my father that trouble." - -"But what is the matter, Mila? Your father has not been scolding you, -has he? You never deserve to be scolded! And he is so kind, so gentle, -he loves you so dearly!" - -"Oh! no, indeed, he never said a word to me except words of love and -kindness. You see that you are dreaming, Magnani; I have no sorrow, I -was not weeping." - -"Why, I can see from here that your face is swollen and your eyes red, -my dear girl. What heart-breaking grief can one have at your age, -lovely, and beloved by all, as you are?" - -"Don't laugh at me, I beg you," said Mila, proudly. But she turned pale, -and trying to sit down calmly, fell sobbing upon her chair. - -Magnani had so little suspicion that he could possibly be anything more -than a friend in her eyes, and his feeling for her was so placid that he -no longer thought of leaving her. He approached her without any other -emotion than affectionate interest, sat down at her feet on a cushion of -plaited straw, and, taking her hand in his, questioned her with an -assumption of something like paternal authority. - -Poor Mila was so perturbed that she had not the strength to repel him. -It was the first time that he had ever spoken to her so near and with -such evident affection. Oh! how happy she would have been but for the -fatal words that Michel had said to her! But those words were still -ringing in her ears, and Mila was too proud to allow her secret to be -suspected. She made a mighty effort, and answered with a smile that her -trouble was a matter of little importance, and was due simply to a -little quarrel she had had with her brother. - -"Michel quarrel with you, my poor angel?" said Magnani, watching her -carefully; "is it possible? Oh! no! you are mistaken. Michel loves you -more than all the world, and he is quite right. If you had quarreled, he -would be here, as I am, at your feet, and much more eloquent than I to -comfort you; for he is your brother, and I am only your friend. But, -however that may be, I am going to find him; I will scold him roundly, -if he is in the wrong. But it will be enough for him to see you cast -down and changed as you are, to make him much unhappier than you." - -"Magnani," said Mila, detaining him as he rose, "I forbid you to go and -find Michel. That would be giving too much importance to a piece of -childish folly. Pay no more attention to it, and do not speak of it to -him or to my father. I assure you that I have already forgotten it, and -that my brother and I will be entirely reconciled to-night." - -"If it is only a childish quarrel," said Magnani, sitting down beside -her, "why, your susceptibilities are altogether too keen, my dear Mila. -I have sisters too, and when I was not so sensible as I am now, when I -was Michel's age, I used to tease them a little. But they didn't cry; -they paid back my mischief with interest, and I always came out second -best." - -"That was because they had spirit, and apparently I haven't enough to -defend myself," replied Mila, sadly. - -"You have a great deal of spirit, Mila, I have noticed that; you are not -Pier-Angelo's daughter and Michel's sister for nothing, and you have a -better education than the other young women of your station. But you -have more heart than spirit, since you can defend yourself only with -your tears!" - -Magnani's praise comforted and pained the girl at the same time. She was -flattered to find that, while not seeming to pay any heed to her, he had -observed her closely enough to be able to do her justice. But the -tranquil kindliness of his manner told her plainly enough that Michel -had not deceived her. - - - - -XX - -BEL PASSO AND MAL PASSO - - -Suddenly Mila formed a firm resolution; for, as Magnani had truly said, -she was superior to most of the young girls of her class in education, -and Pier-Angelo had cultivated in her mind ideas as noble as his own. -She had, in addition, a tincture of youthful enthusiasm, blended with -the habit of courage and self-sacrifice, which her good taste and -ingenuousness led her to conceal beneath apparent heedlessness. It is -the acme of stoicism to be able to sacrifice oneself with a smile on -one's face, and with no outward indication of suffering. - -"My dear Magnani," she said, rising with her accustomed serenity of -expression, "I thank you for your friendly interest in me; you have done -me good, and I feel perfectly calm. Let me work now, for I didn't do my -_day's work_ in the night, as you did; I must do my stint and earn my -wages. Go away, so that people may not say that I am lazy, and that I -waste my time chattering with the neighbors." - -"Good-bye, Mila," replied the young man. "I pray God to restore your -peace of mind to-day, and to make you happy all the days of your life." - -"Thanks, Magnani," said Mila, offering him her hand. "I rely upon your -friendship from this day." - -The air of noble resolution with which that girl, so crushed by grief a -moment before, offered him her hand, and the tone in which she -pronounced the word friendship, like an heroic farewell to all her -illusions, were not understood by Magnani; and yet there was in that -gesture and that tone something that moved him deeply, although he could -not guess the cause. Mila was transformed before him in the twinkling of -an eye; she no longer seemed a charming child, she was serious and -beautiful as a woman. - -He took that little hand in his hard and powerful one, which did not -hesitate to seal the friendly compact by a fraternal grasp, but which -trembled suddenly at the touch of a hand as soft and dainty as a -princess's; for Mila was very careful of her person, and knew how to be -at once industrious and refined in her occupations. - -Magnani fancied that he held Agatha's hand, which, by a strange caprice -of fortune, he had touched once in his life. He felt a sudden wave of -emotion, and drew Pier-Angelo's daughter to his heart as if to give her -a brotherly kiss. He dared not do it; but she offered her forehead -innocently, saying to herself that it would be the first and the last, -and that she would cherish its memory as the symbol of an everlasting -farewell to all her hopes. - -Magnani had been living for five years under a self-imposed law of -absolute chastity. It was as if he had taken an oath to imitate Agatha's -exceptionally austere mode of life, and, engrossed by a fixed idea, had -determined to waste away by slow degrees, knowing naught of love or -marriage. He had never kissed a woman, not even his sisters, since he -had carried in his heart that chimera of a hopeless passion. It may be -that he had made a vow to that effect in some moment of painful -agitation. But he forgot that grim vow when he felt young Mila's lovely -dark head resting trustfully against his breast. He gazed at her for an -instant, and those limpid black eyes, in which there was an expression -of grief and courage which he could not understand, cast him into a sort -of delirium of surprise and passion. His lips did not touch Mila's brow; -they turned away trembling from her bright red lips, and rested upon her -soft brown neck, perhaps a second or two longer than was absolutely -necessary to cement a bond of fraternity. - -Mila turned pale, her eyes closed, and a sorrowful sigh escaped from her -broken heart. Magnani, shocked beyond measure, placed her upon a chair -and fled, overwhelmed with dismay, astonishment, and, perhaps, remorse. - -Mila, being left alone, was very near fainting; she staggered to the -door and bolted it; then she knelt on the floor beside her bed, hid her -face in her hands, and remained there absorbed by her suffering. But she -had ceased to weep, and grief gave place to an excitement instinct with -strenuous and ardent aspirations. Pier-Angelo's optimism, that faith in -destiny which is a sort of superstition in stout hearts, awoke within -her. She rose, rearranged her hair, looked in her mirror, and said -aloud, as she resumed her work: - -"I don't know why, nor when, nor how, but he shall love me; I have a -right to desire it, I do desire it, and God will assist me!" - -When Michel returned, he found her tranquil and lovely, gazing intently -at a copy of the _Virgin of the Chair_, which he had made for her with -much care, and which she had hung, not in her alcove, but above her -mirror. He congratulated himself that he had allowed her to give way -freely to her first outburst of grief, and that she had recovered her -strength of will in her solitary meditation. He almost reached her side -before she heard him; but she saw his face in the glass as he leaned -over her to kiss her on the neck. - -"Kiss me there," she said, offering him her cheek, "but never on my -neck!" - -"Why that prohibition for your brother, little madcap?" - -"It is a whim of mine," she said. "You are beginning to have a beard and -I don't want you to scratch my skin." - -"Ah! you flatter me exceedingly," laughed Michel; "that fear does too -much honor to my budding moustache! I had no idea that it could frighten -anybody as yet! But do you care less for the smoothness of your cheek -than of your pretty neck, little Mila? Is that because you have just -been admiring this beautiful Madonna's neck?" - -"Perhaps so!" she said. "It is very beautiful, really, and I would like -to resemble that face in every feature." - -"I should judge that you were making the attempt before your mirror. -These are very profane ideas to indulge in before that holy image!" - -"No, Michel," replied Mila, gravely. "There is nothing profane in my -conception of her beauty. I have never understood it as I have to-day, -and I fancied that no one had ever been able to create so beautiful a -face as Princess Agatha's. But I see now that Raphael went farther. He -gave his Madonna more strength of character, if not more tranquillity. -That divine face is intensely alive; it has a great deal of will; it is -sure of itself. She is the most virtuous, but, also, the most loving of -women. She seems to say: 'Love me because I love you.'" - -"Well, well, Mila, where did you find that?" cried Michel, looking at -his sister in surprise. "I fancied I was dreaming as I listened to you!" - -The conversation of the two children was interrupted by the arrival of -their father. He came to suggest to Michel that they should go and -demolish the ball-room. All the workmen who had taken part in building -it had agreed to meet at three o'clock in the afternoon, to rid the -palace of that temporary structure. - -"I know," said Pier-Angelo, "that the princess is anxious to preserve -your frescoes on canvas, and I want you to help me roll them up and -carry them safely to one of the galleries of the palace." - -Michel followed his father, but they were no sooner outside the city -than the old man stopped. - -"My boy," he said, "I am going to the villa alone, for I must talk a -moment with the princess about that infernal abbé, who disguises -himself as a monk to spy upon something or somebody in her house. Do you -walk about two miles to the northwest, following the path that begins -here, and turning neither to right nor left. In an hour you will reach -the Capuchin convent of Bel Passo, where your uncle Fra Angelo told me -that he would wait for you till sunset. He has satisfied himself that -the suspicious monk whom we pointed out to him was no other than Ninfo, -and, without deigning to inform me what he supposes his designs to be, -he told me that he wished to have a serious talk with you. I suspect -that your uncle knows more than we do about the cardinal's condition and -the abbé's plans; but he is a man of sense and foresight. He has -probably made inquiries during the morning, and I shall be very glad to -have his opinion." - -Michel followed the path, and, after an hour's walk through the most -beautiful country that the mind can conceive, he reached the gate of his -uncle's convent. - -This convent was situated on a hill above a small village in the -cultivated district, gay with flowers and dotted with country houses, -which lies at the foot of Ætna. The building was sheltered by the great -trunks of venerable trees, and the garden, exposed to the African sun, -commanded a magnificent view bounded by the sea. - -This romantic spot, strewn with formidable masses of lava, bore two -names which had been given it in turn, and which, in view of the -uncertainty as to which it was more likely to retain, were bestowed upon -it indifferently at the time of which we write. The location being -superb, the soil fertile, and the climate mild and agreeable, it had -been called on general principles _Bel Passo_. Then had come the -terrible eruptions of Ætna and Monte-Rosso, which had overwhelmed and -ruined it; whereupon it had been christened _Mal Passo_. Then, as time -passed on, the village and convent were rebuilt, the lava broken up, -cultivation resumed, and they gradually reverted to the original -complimentary name. But these two contrasting designations were still -confused in the memories and the customs of the people. The old men, who -had seen their country in its primitive splendor, said _Bel Passo_, as -did the children, who had seen it only after it had emerged from chaos, -and had been restored to life, as it were. But the men who had seen the -spectacle of the catastrophe and experienced its disastrous results in -their early years--who had had no other cradle than toil and terror, and -were just beginning to obtain some result from their labors--called it -_Mal Passo_ more frequently than _Bel Passo_. - -For a very long time that gorge had changed its name thus, twice or -thrice in a century, according to circumstances; an example of the -heedless courage of the human race, which builds its nest beside the -broken branch, and continues to love and beautify and sing the praises -of the domain which it has with difficulty reconquered from the tempests -of yesterday. - -However, this spot afforded equal justification for both of the names -which disputed possession of it. It was an epitome of all the horrors -and all the charms of nature. Where the river of fire had poured its -destructive waves, the ridges of lava, the gray wastes of slag, the -ruins of the former soil, upturned, flooded or baked, recalled the evil -days, when the population was reduced to begging, and wives and mothers -were in mourning; Niobe changed to stone at the sight of her murdered -children. But near at hand old fig-trees, reanimated by the passage of -the flame, had put forth new branches, and strewed with their succulent -fruit the new grass and the worn-out soil, newly steeped in the most -generous juices. - -Everything that did not lie directly in the path of the molten -lava--everything that was saved by an inequality of the ground--had -benefited by the destruction that had passed so near. So it is with -mankind, and death everywhere makes room for life. Michel noticed that, -in some places, one of two twin trees had disappeared as if carried away -by a cannon-ball, and displayed its charred stump beside the proud trunk -which seemed to tower triumphantly over its ruins. - -He found his uncle occupied in breaking away the rock to enlarge a bed -planted with flourishing vegetables. The garden had been dug out of -solid lava. The paths were covered with mosaics of enamelled porcelain, -and the beds of vegetables and flowers, cut from the very heart of the -rock, and made of earth brought from elsewhere, resembled gigantic boxes -buried to the edges. To make the resemblance more striking, between the -beds and the porcelain paths they had left the black lava, as it were a -border of box or thyme, and at each corner of the beds it had been -fashioned into a ball, the sacramental ornament of our orange-tree -boxes. - -It will be seen, therefore, that nothing could be neater or more ugly, -more symmetrical or more depressing, in a word, more monastical than -that garden, an object of pride and affection to the good monks. But the -beauty of the flowers, the splendor of the bunches of grapes which -enveloped heavy pillars of lava, the soft murmur of the fountain, which -sent forth a thousand silvery threads to refresh each plant in its rocky -cell, and above all, the view from that terrace with its southern -exposure, afforded ample compensation for the melancholy effect of such -hard and patient toil. - -Fra Angelo, armed with an iron sledge hammer, had removed his frock in -order to be more free in his movements. Clad only in a short brown -jacket, he displayed the mighty muscles of his hairy arms in the -sunlight, and at every blow that he dealt the rocky mass, shivering it -into fragments, he gave a sort of savage grunt. But, when he saw the -young artist, he drew himself up and showed a mild and serene -countenance. - -"You come just in time, young man," he said. "I was thinking about you, -and I have many questions to ask you." - -"I thought, uncle, that you had, on the contrary, many things to tell -me." - -"Yes, doubtless I should have, if I knew what sort of man you are; but, -except for the tie of relationship that unites us, you are a stranger to -me; and, whatever your father may say, blinded perhaps by his affection, -I do not know whether you are really a man. What do you think of the -position in which you find yourself?" - -"To avoid my having to answer your questions by asking others, you would -do well, perhaps, my dear uncle, to put them clearly in the first -instance. When I know what my position is, I shall be able to tell you -what I think of it." - -"Then you know nothing of the secrets in which you are concerned?" said -the Capuchin, examining Michel with a stern and searching gaze; "you -have not even a suspicion of them? You have never guessed anything? -Nobody has ever told you anything?" - -"I know that my father was involved in a political conspiracy long ago, -about the time of my birth, I think. But at that time I was quite unable -to decide whether he was in the right or in the wrong. Since then he has -never explained his position to me in that respect." - -"He lacks confidence in you, then, or you take little interest in his -welfare?" - -"I have questioned him at times; he has always answered evasively. I -have never drawn therefrom, as you do, uncle, the conclusion that he -distrusted me; that would have seemed impossible to me; but I have -always thought that, having really had a hand in the business, he was -bound by oaths, as is the case in all secret societies. So I should have -thought that I failed in the respect I owe him, if I had questioned him -farther." - -"That is well said; but does it not conceal a profound indifference -touching the affairs of your native country, and a selfish disregard of -the sacred cause of its liberty?" - -Michel was a little embarrassed by this question, so concisely put. - -"Come," continued Fra Angelo, "answer without fear, I am only asking for -the truth." - -"Very well, I will answer you, uncle," said Michel, meeting the monk's -cold glance, which distressed him in spite of himself, for he would have -liked to have the regard of that man, whose face, voice, and bearing -commanded his respect and sympathy. "I will tell you what I think, since -you wish to know it, and also what I am, at the risk of losing your -good-will. Convince me that the cause of liberty, so far as Italy and -Sicily are concerned, is really the cause of the men who are deprived of -liberty, and you will see that I will devote myself to it, I do not say -with enthusiasm, but with frantic zeal. But alas! hitherto I have always -seen men sacrifice themselves simply to change masters, while the noble -and wealthy classes used them for their own profit, in the name of this -or that idea. That is why, while I am not indifferent to the spectacle -of the misery and oppression of my fellow-countrymen, I have never -chosen to conspire under the auspices and for the benefit of the -patricians, who are so eager in inciting us to conspire." - -"O mankind! O mankind! _everyone for himself_ will always be your -motto!" cried the Capuchin, springing to his feet as if beside himself -with indignation; then, resuming his seat with a strange and bitter -laugh, he added, looking at Michel with an ironical expression: "Signor -prince, _excellenza_, you are pleased to make sport of us, I judge!" - - - - -XXI - -FRA ANGELO - - -The Capuchin's strange outbreak caused Michel the most profound -embarrassment; but, being determined to maintain his independence and -sincerity, he affected a tranquillity which he did not feel. - -"Why do you call me _prince_ and _excellenza_, my dear uncle?" he said, -forcing himself to smile; "is it because I spoke like a patrician?" - -"Precisely; every one for himself, I tell you!" replied Fra Angelo, -resuming his melancholy gravity. "If that is the spirit of the age which -you have been studying at Rome, if that is the new philosophy upon which -the young men in other lands are fed, we have not seen the end of our -misfortunes, and we can continue to tell our beads in silence. Alas! -alas! here is a fine state of affairs! the children of our people will -not stir for fear of saving their former masters with them, and the -patricians will not dare to lift a finger for fear of being devoured by -their former slaves! God save the mark! Meanwhile, the foreign tyranny -laughs and grows fat upon our spoils; our mothers and sisters ask alms -or prostitute themselves; our brothers and our friends die on dung-heaps -or on the gallows! It is a noble spectacle, and I am amazed, -Michelangelo, that you came from Rome, where you had before your eyes -naught but the splendors of the Holy See and the masterpieces of art, to -contemplate our poor Sicily, with her population of beggars, her ruined -nobles, her lazy or brutalized monks! Why did you not take a pleasure -trip to Naples? you would have seen wealthier nobles there and a more -opulent government, made so by the taxes which are causing us to die of -starvation; a more tranquil people, who worry but little over the fate -of their neighbors. 'What do we care for Sicily? it is a conquered -country and its people are not our brothers.'--That is what they say at -Naples. Go to Palermo, where they will tell you that Catania is not to -be pitied and can save itself unassisted, with its silk worms. Go to -Messina, where they will tell you that Messina is no part of Sicily, and -that they have no use for its bad counsels and its evil spirit. Go to -France; the newspapers there say every day that pious, cowardly peoples -like us deserve their fate. Go to Ireland; they will tell you that they -want no help from the heretics of France. Go everywhere, and everywhere -you will find yourself well abreast of the ideas of your time; for -people will say to you everywhere what you just said: 'Everyone for -himself!'" - -Fra Angelo's words, his tone and his countenance made a deep impression -upon Michel, and he was honest enough to confess it to himself at once. -The artistic chord was struck, and what would have seemed to him in any -other man mere sophistry and declamation, seemed simple and mighty in -the mouth of that monk. - -"My father," he said with ingenuous candor, "it may be that you are -right to scold me as you do. I have no idea at all; and yet I might -offer, in defence of my scepticism, many arguments which come and go in -my mind as I listen to you. It does not seem to me that I am as wicked -and as contemptible as you think. But with you I am much more eager to -improve myself than to defend myself. Please go on." - -"Yes, yes, I understand," rejoined Fra Angelo, proudly. "You are a -painter, and you are studying me; that is all. This language seems -strange to you in the mouth of a monk, and you are thinking of nothing -but the picture you will paint of St. John preaching in the wilderness!" - -"Do not laugh at me, I entreat you, uncle; you do not need to do it to -show me that you have more wit and learning than I. You chose to -question me; I told you my thought honestly. I hate oppression, whether -it appears in the shape of the past or the present. I should not like to -be the mere instrument of another man's passions and to sacrifice my -future as an artist to the reconstruction of the fortunes and honors of -a few great families who are naturally ungrateful and instinctively -despotic. I believe that a revolution in such a country as ours would -have no other result. I feel that I am man enough to take a gun to -defend my father's life and my sister's honor. But, when it comes to -joining some mysterious society, whose members act with their eyes -closed, and see neither the hand that guides them nor the goal toward -which they are proceeding--unless you can prove to me forcibly and -convincingly that it is my duty--I will not do it, though you were to -curse me, my dear uncle, or to make sport of me, which is much worse." - -"What makes you think that I want you to join anything of that sort?" -said Fra Angelo, with a shrug. "I admire your distrustful nature. I like -to see that your first feeling with regard to your father's brother is -the fear of being tricked by him. I wanted to know you, young man, and I -am very much cast down by what I know of you." - -"What do you know of me, pray?" cried Michel, testily. "Come, try me in -proper form, and let me know what my crimes are." - -"Your whole crime consists in not being the man you should be," replied -Fra Angelo; "and that is very unfortunate for us." - -"I understand no better." - -"I know that you cannot understand what I am thinking at this moment! -otherwise you would not have spoken so before me." - -"In heaven's name, explain yourself," said Michel, unable to endure -these attacks any longer. "It seems to me that we are fighting a duel in -the darkness. I cannot parry your blows, and I apparently strike you -when I am trying to defend myself. With what do you reproach me, or what -do you ask of me? If I am a man of my time and of my class, is it my -fault? I have just stepped foot for the first time on this island -devoted to the worship of the past. I am not an atheist, but I am not -pious. I do not believe in the superiority of certain classes, nor in -the necessary inferiority of my own. I do not feel that I am the born -servant of the old patricians, the old prejudices, and the old -institutions of my native land. I place myself on a level with the -haughtiest and most venerated heads, in order to pass judgment on them, -so that I may know whether I should bend my head before true merit, or -protect myself against unwarranted prestige. That is the whole of it, -uncle, I give you my word. Now you know me. I admire what is noble, -great and sincere before God. My heart is susceptible of affection and -my mind prostrates itself before virtue. I love art, and I am ambitious -of renown, I agree; but I love serious art and seek pure renown. I will -not sacrifice any one of my duties to them; but I will not accept false -duties, and I will spurn false principles. Am I a miserable wretch for -that? and must I, in order to have the honor of being a true Sicilian, -become a monk in your convent, or a brigand on the mountain?" - -Michel's spirited outburst did not displease the Capuchin. He listened -to it with interest, and his face softened. But the young man's last -words produced the effect of an electric shock upon him. He leaped up -from his bench, and seizing Michel's arm with that herculean strength of -which he had given him a specimen in the morning, exclaimed: "What is -that metaphor? What are you talking about?" - -But, observing Michel's air of stupefaction at this new outbreak, he -began to laugh: "Well, even if you do know it--even if your father has -told you--what does it matter? Other people know it, and I am none the -worse off. Well, my child, you have unconsciously used a very powerful -illustration; it was what one might call the marrow of the truth. All -men are not made to be fed upon it; there are milder and more digestible -truths which suffice for the majority. But to those who desire to be -absolutely logical in their opinions and their acts, what seems to you a -paradox is the merest commonplace. You look at me in amazement? I tell -you that you did, without knowing it, speak like an oracle when you said -that, in order to have the honor of being a true Sicilian, one must be a -monk in my convent, or a brigand on the mountain. I should prefer that -you would be one or the other, rather than a cosmopolitan artist as you -aspire to be. Listen to a story, and try to understand it: - -"There was once in Sicily a poor devil, but blessed with a vivid -imagination and a certain amount of courage, who, being unable to endure -the disasters by which his country was overwhelmed, took his gun one -fine morning and went into the mountains, resolved to lose his own life, -or to destroy one by one as many of the enemy as possible, pending the -day when he could fall upon them in a body with the outlaws whom he -joined. They formed a large and select band. Their leader was a noble, -the last descendant of one of the greatest families of the -country--Prince Cæsar de Castro-Reale. Remember that name. You may -never have heard it, but a time will come when it will have more -interest for you. - -"In the woods and mountains the prince had taken the name of -_Destatore_,[1] by which name he was known, loved, and feared for ten -years, nobody suspecting that he was the young and brilliant nobleman -who had run through his fortune at Palermo, and led a most dissipated -life with his friends and mistresses. - -"Before speaking of the poor devil who turned brigand from patriotic -despair, I must say a few words of the noble patrician who had become a -leader of brigands for the same reason. It will assist you to a -knowledge of your country and your countrymen. _Il Destatore_ was a man -of thirty years, handsome, well-educated, lovable, brave and -generous,--he had all the characteristics of a hero; but he was -persecuted and crushed by the Neapolitan government, who detested him -particularly because of the influence he exerted over the common people. -He resolved to put an end to the life he was leading, to consume the -balance of his fortune, which was reduced every day by taxes to the -profit of the enemy; in short, to drown his sorrow in drunkenness, and -to kill himself or brutalize himself in debauchery. - -"He succeeded only in ruining himself. His robust health withstood all -sorts of excess, his sorrow survived his dissipation, and when he found -that, instead of falling asleep, he became intensely excited in his -cups, that a frantic rage took possession of him, and that it would be -necessary for him to run a sword through his body, or, as he said, to -eat à la Neapolitan, he disappeared and became a bandit. He was -supposed to have been drowned, and his inheritance never caused his -nephews any great embarrassment or afforded much profit to the -authorities. - -"Thereafter he was a tiger, a devouring lion, who spread terror through -the country districts and avenged his fatherland in the bloodiest way. -The poor devil whom I mentioned at the outset of my story became -passionately attached to him, and served him with fanatical loyalty. He -never stopped to think whether he was _worshipping the past_, or bending -the knee to a man who deemed himself superior to him, but who was only -his equal before God; whether he was fighting and risking his life for -the benefit of a _master_, who might prove to be _ungrateful and -despotic_; whether, after destroying the foreign tyranny, as they hoped -to do, they would fall again under the yoke of the _old prejudices_, the -_old abuses_, the nobles, and the monks. No, all those shades of -distrust were too subtle for such a straightforward and simple mind as -his. To beg would have seemed a degradation to him in those days; and as -for work! why he had never done anything in his life but work, and work -zealously, for he loved work, and was not afraid of it. But I do not -know whether you have noticed as yet that in Sicily every man does not -work who wants to. Although we have the richest and most fertile soil in -the world, taxation has destroyed commerce, agriculture, all the -industries and all the arts. The man of whom I speak had sought the -hardest, roughest, varieties of labor in the salt marshes, in the mines, -even in the very bowels of the earth, which, on the surface, was -devastated and neglected. Work was lacking everywhere, and all the -enterprises in which he had been employed being abandoned, one after -another, he was reduced to begging alms of his fellows who were as badly -off as he, or to stealing. He preferred to _take_ openly. - -"But in the _Destatore's_ band they took with discernment and justice. -They maltreated and held to ransom none but enemies of the country or -traitors. They had a secret understanding with every well-meaning or -unfortunate man. They hoped to form a party large enough to attempt to -seize one of the three principal cities, Palermo, Catania, or Messina. - -"But Palermo, before placing confidence in us, demanded that we should -be led by a noble; and as the _Destatore_ was supposed to be an -adventurer of low birth, he was rejected. If he had told his true name, -it would have been worse. He was execrated throughout the country for -his previous conduct, and that was a difficulty for which he could blame -no one but himself. - -"At Messina our proposals were rejected, on the plea that the Neapolitan -government had done great things for the commerce of that city, and -that, all things considered, peace at any price, with flourishing trade -and the hope of growing rich, was preferable to a patriotic war with -confusion and anarchy. At Catania they told us that they could not do -anything without the concurrence of Messina, and would not do anything -without that of Palermo. In fact they definitely refused to assist us in -any way; and, after putting us off from year to year, they informed us -that the trade of brigand had gone out of fashion, and that it was very -bad taste to persist in it when we could sell out to the government and -make our fortunes in its service. They forgot to add, it is true, that, -in order to resume his place in society, it would have been necessary -for the Prince of Castro-Reale to become the enemy of his country and -accept some military or civil post, the duties of which consisted in -dispersing insurrections with cannon, and in pursuing, denouncing, and -hanging his old comrades. - -"The _Destatore_, seeing that his mission was at an end, and that, in -order to live by his gun, he must thenceforth prey upon his -fellow-countrymen, fell into a state of profound depression. Wandering -among the wildest ravines on the island, and making bold forays, -sometimes to the very gates of the cities, he lived for a time upon -foreign travellers who were rash enough to visit the island. That trade -was not worthy of him, for those foreigners were, for the most part, -entirely free from blame for our ills, and so utterly incapable of -defending themselves, that it was a pity to rob them. The brave fellows -who followed him were disgusted with such wretched business, and every -day brought its quota of desertions. To be sure those scrupulous fellows -did worse when they left him; for some, being frowned upon everywhere, -relapsed into idleness and poverty; others were forced to join the -forces of the government, who considered them good soldiers, and made -gendarmes and spies of them. - -"Thus there remained with the _Destatore_ only the more determined -malefactors, who robbed and murdered, without scrutiny, everyone who -came in their way. A single one was still honest, and refused to take -part in this highwayman's business. It was the poor devil whose story I -am telling you. Nor on the other hand would he leave his unfortunate -captain; he loved him, and his heart was broken at the idea of -abandoning him to traitors who would murder him some fine morning when -they had no one to rob, or would force him into useless crimes for their -own gratification. - -"The _Destatore_ did full justice to his poor friend's devotion. He had -appointed him his lieutenant--an absurd title in a band which now -consisted of only a handful of knaves. He still allowed him to tell him -the truth sometimes, and to give him good advice; but as a general rule -he drove him away angrily, for the leader's temper became more and more -soured from day to day, and the savage virtues which he had acquired in -the days of enthusiasm and gallant exploits gave way to the vices of the -past, children of despair, ill-omened guests which resumed possession of -his storm-beaten soul. - -"Drunkenness and lust took possession of him, as in the early days of -idleness and discouragement. He fell below himself, and one day--an -accursed day, which will never be blotted from my memory--he committed a -terrible crime, a dastardly, detestable crime! If I had witnessed it, I -would have killed him on the spot. But the _Destatore's_ last remaining -friend did not learn of it until the next day; and on that next day he -left him, after bitterly upbraiding him for his infamy. - -"Thereupon that poor devil, having no one to love, and being unable to -do anything for his unhappy country, began to wonder what was going to -become of him. His heart, still ardent and youthful, turned toward -religion, and being of the opinion that an honest monk, thoroughly -imbued with the ideas of the Bible, might do a good work, preach virtue -to the powerful, give instruction and assistance to the poor and the -ignorant, he assumed the frock of a Capuchin, received the lesser -orders, and retired to this convent. He accepted the duty of mendicancy -imposed upon his order, as an expiation of his sins, and found it -preferable to pillage, in that he applied thereafter to the rich in -behalf of the poor, without violence and without cunning. It is inferior -in a certain sense; it is less sure and less expeditious. But, all -things considered, a man who wants to do the greatest possible amount of -good should be a brigand in his youth; and he who simply wants to do the -least possible harm should be a monk in his old age: you said so -yourself. - -"There is my story; do you understand it?" - -"Perfectly, uncle; it is very interesting indeed, and, in my eyes, the -principal hero of the romance is not the Prince of Castro-Reale, but the -monk who is speaking to me." - - -[Footnote 1: He who slumbers not.] - - - - -XXII - -THE FIRST STEP ON THE MOUNTAIN - - -Fra Angelo and his nephew were silent for a few moments. The monk was -absorbed by the bitter yet glorious memories of his younger days. Michel -gazed at him with delight; and, no longer wondering at the martial air -and muscular strength concealed beneath the frock, mused with the -admiration of an artist upon the strange poesy of that life of devotion -to a single idea. If there was something abnormal and, to a certain -extent, entertaining in the history of the Capuchin, who still boasted -of his life as a bandit and seriously regretted it, there was something -truly noble in the way in which the ex-brigand preserved his individual -dignity, compromised as it had been in such extraordinary adventures. -Dagger or crucifix in hand, slaying traitors in the forest or begging -for the poor at the gates of palaces, he was always the same, proud, -ingenuous, unbending in his ideas, seeking to do good by the most -vigorous methods, detesting cowardly acts with such intensity that he -was still quite capable of punishing them with his own hand, utterly -unable to understand the selfish motives by which the world is governed, -or to believe that any man would not be ready at any moment to attempt -the impossible rather than palter with the expedients suggested by cold -circumspection. - -"Why do you admire the secondary hero of my story?" he said to his -nephew when he emerged from his reverie. "Self-sacrifice and patriotism -must amount to something in your eyes, for that man had no other motive, -and, in the present state of society, would have been only a poor -fool--perhaps a lunatic." - -"Yes, uncle, sincere devotion and the sacrifice of one's whole -individuality to an idea are noble things, and if I had known you in -those days--if I had been a man grown--I should probably have followed -you into the mountains. I might have been less devotedly attached than -you were to the Prince of Castro-Reale, but I trust I should have had -the same illusions and the same love for the cause of my country." - -"Really, young man?" said Fra Angelo, fixing his penetrating eyes upon -Michel's face. - -"Really, uncle," the young man replied, proudly raising his head, and -sustaining that searching glance with the assurance of conviction. - -"And is it too late now to attempt anything, my poor boy?" said Fra -Angelo, with a sigh. "Has the time passed when we can believe in the -triumph of the truth, and is the new society, which I have had no better -chance to study in my cloister than in my bandit's cave, determined to -allow itself to be crushed forever?" - -"I hope not, uncle. If I thought so, it seems to me that I should no -longer have any blood in my veins, inspiration in my brain, or love in -my bosom, and that I should no longer be capable of being an artist. But -still we must recognize the fact that society is not what it must have -been in this island at the beginning of your enterprise. Even if it has -taken some steps toward intellectual discoveries, it is certain that the -impulses of the heart have lost their energy." - -"And you call that progress?" exclaimed the Capuchin, sorrowfully. - -"No, far from it," Michel replied; "but how can those who are born -during this state of society breathe any other air than that in which -they were born, or entertain other ideas than those which have been -forced into them? Must we not yield to the evidence, and bend our necks -to the yoke of reality? Did not you yourself, my excellent uncle, when -you passed from the exciting life of a free adventurer to the inflexible -discipline of the cloister, did not you find that society was not what -you thought, and that it was no longer possible to effect anything by -violence?" - -"Alas! that is true!" replied the monk. "During the ten years that I -passed in the mountains, I did not know what revolutions were taking -place in the manners of civilized mankind. When the _Destatore_ had sent -me into the cities with his agents, to try to make satisfactory terms -with the nobles whom he had known as loyal patriots, and with the rich -and well-educated middle class citizens whom he had known as ardent -liberals, I was forced to the conviction that those people were no -longer the same, that they had brought up their children with other -ideas, that they no longer cared to risk their fortunes and their lives -in those hazardous undertakings in which only faith and enthusiasm can -perform miracles. Yes, yes, the world had progressed--backward, -according to my idea. People no longer talked of anything but making -money, of fighting monopolies, of establishing competition, of founding -new industries. They all deemed themselves rich already, they were in -such haste to become so, and the government could purchase whomsoever it -pleased, by the promise of the most trifling privilege. Yes, they had -but to promise, to hold out hopes of fortune, and the most ardent -patriots pounced upon those hopes, saying: 'industry will give us back -our liberty!' - -"The common people also believed it, and every employer could bring his -employés to the feet of the new masters, the poor creatures imagining -that their arms were about to bring them in millions. It was a sort of -fever, a universal mania. I sought men, I found only machines. I talked -of the fatherland and honor, they replied by discussing sulphur and silk -weaving. I went away disheartened, but uncertain, not daring to censure -too severely what I had seen, and saying to myself that it was not for -me, ignorant and uncivilized as I was, to pass judgment upon the new -resources which these mysterious discoveries were going to create for my -country. - -"But since then, great heaven! I have seen the result of these fine -promises so far as the common people are concerned! I have seen some -shrewd fellows restore their own fortunes by ruining their friends and -paying court to the ruling powers. I have seen many families of petty -tradespeople attain great wealth; but I have seen honorable men -persecuted more and more; I have seen, especially, and I see now every -day, more beggars and more poor wretches without bread, without homes, -without education, without a future. And I ask myself what good you have -done with your new ideas, your progress, your theories of equality! You -despise the past, you spit upon the old abuses, and you have killed the -future by creating new abuses more monstrous than the old. The best -among you, the young men, are on the alert for the revolutionary -doctrines of nations more advanced than ours. You consider yourselves -highly enlightened, very strong, when you can say: 'No more nobles, no -more priests, no more convents, no more of anything connected with the -past!' And you do not see that you no longer have the poesy, the faith -and the pride which gave life to the past. - -"Let us see!" added the Capuchin, folding his arms over his heaving -breast, and eyeing Michel with a half fatherly, half bullying, air: "you -are a very young man, a child! You consider yourself very clever, -because you know what people say and think in society at this moment. -You look at this stupid monk, who passes the day breaking rock in order -to set out an extra row of peppers or tomatoes on the lava next year, -and you say: - -"'That's a strange way for a man to pass his life! And yet this man was -neither lazy nor dull. He might have been a lawyer or a tradesman, and -have earned money like other men. He might have married, had children, -and taught them to hold their own in society. He preferred to bury -himself alive in a convent and beg! It is because he is under the -influence of the past, and has always been the dupe of the old chimeras -and old superstitions of his country!' - -"Very good! now, do you know what I think as I look at you? I say to -myself: 'Here is a young man who has come much in contact with the minds -of other men, who has very quickly thrown off the fetters of his class, -who does not choose to share the sufferings of his native country, the -labors of his kinsmen. He will succeed; he is a handsome youth, keener -and more logical in his ideas and his words at eighteen than I was at -thirty. He knows a multitude of things which had seemed useless to me -and which I did not even suspect, until the leisure of the cloister -enabled me to educate myself a little. He stands there, smiling at my -enthusiasm, and, mounted on his sound sense, his premature experience, -his knowledge of men, and his profound study of the science of personal -interest, looks upon me in his mind as a teacher looks upon his pupil. -He is the mature man; and I, an old brigand and old monk, am the -fearless youth, the blind and artless child! Strange transposition! He -represents the new generation, all for gold and glory; and I the dust of -ruins, the silence of the tomb!' - -"Very good! but let the tocsin sound, let the volcano rumble, let the -people roar, let that black point which we see in the roadstead, and -which is the ship of State, bristle with guns to destroy the city at the -first breath of aspiration toward liberty; let the brigands come down -from the mountains, let the flames soar aloft to the clouds; and in that -last convulsion of the dying fatherland, the young artist will take his -brushes, he will go and take his seat upon a hill, out of all danger, -and he will paint a picture, saying to himself: 'What an unfortunate -people, and what a magnificent spectacle! I must hasten to put it on -canvas! in an instant this people will have ceased to exist, its last -hour is striking!' - -"Whereas the old monk will take his gun, which is not yet rusty; he will -turn his sleeves back to the shoulder, and without stopping to ask -himself what will be the result of it all, he will rush into the -scrimmage and will fight for his countrymen until his crushed and -trampled body no longer resembles a human being. And I would rather die -so, boy, than survive, as you will do, the destruction of my race!" - -"My father! my father! do not believe it," cried Michel, conquered and -carried off his feet by the Capuchin's exaltation. "I am not a coward! -and if my Sicilian blood flowed sluggishly on foreign soil, it is -quickened by the fiery breath which your breast exhales. Do not crush me -beneath that terrible malediction! Take me in your arms and set me on -fire with your flames. With you I feel really alive, and this new life -intoxicates and enraptures me!" - -"Good! here is an honest impulse at last!" said the monk, embracing him. -"I like this better than the fine theories concerning art which you have -persuaded your father to respect blindly." - -"Forgive me, uncle," rejoined Michel, with a smile, "I do not surrender -on that point. I will maintain with my last breath the dignity and -importance of art. You said just now that in the midst of civil war I -would coolly go and sit down in a corner, to paint episodes of the -conflict instead of fighting. I would fight, I beg you to believe, and I -would fight hard if the object were to drive out the enemy. I would -gladly lay down my life; glory would come to me more quickly so than I -shall attain it by studying painting, and I love glory: in that respect -I fear that I am incorrigible. But if I were in truth doomed to survive -the downfall of my people after fighting in vain for their triumph, it -is probable that I should collect my painful reminiscences and paint -many pictures, to reproduce and perpetuate the memory of those bloody -catastrophes. The more excited and desperate I was, the better and more -striking my work would be. It would speak to men's hearts; it would -arouse admiration for our heroism, pity for our misfortunes, and I -assure you that it might prove that I had served our cause better with -my brush than I had done with my gun." - -"Very good! very good!" rejoined the monk, with an ingenuous outburst of -sympathy. "That is well said and well thought. We have a brother here -who is a sculptor, and I consider that his work is no less useful to the -cause of religion than mine is to the convent when I break up this lava. -But that brother has faith, and he can carve the features of the Blessed -Madonna without lowering the idea that we form of her. You will paint -fine pictures, Michel; but only on the condition that you have taken -part in the battle with heart and hand, and have been a zealous actor, -not an unmoved spectator of events." - -"Now we are altogether in accord, my father; there is no genius in art -without conviction and without emotion: but as there is nothing more for -us to dispute about, if you are content with me at last, pray tell me -what is going on, and wherein you expect my assistance. Are we on the -eve of some important undertaking?" - -Fra Angelo was so excited that he had lost all notion of his -surroundings. Suddenly his gleaming eyes filled with tears, his heaving -breast fell with a deep sigh, his hands, which quivered as if they were -feeling for pistols in his belt, fell back upon the cord around his -waist and touched his chaplet. - -"Alas! no," he said, glancing about with startled eyes, like a man -suddenly aroused from sleep, "we are on the eve of nothing, and it may -be that I shall die in my cell without ever renewing the priming of my -gun. It was all a dream which you shared with me for an instant; but do -not regret it, young man, it was a noble dream, and that instant, which -did me inestimable good, may have made you a better man. The result of -it has been that I know you and esteem you. Now we are friends for life -and death. Let us not despair of anything. Look at Ætna! it is peaceful -and radiant; it is hardly smoking, and does not make a sound. To-morrow, -perhaps, it may belch forth its burning lava again and utterly destroy -the ground on which we stand. It is the emblem and the image of the -Sicilian people, and the hour for _Vespers_ may strike in the midst of -dancing or of slumber. But the sun is sinking, and I have no more time -to waste before telling you what I have to tell that concerns you. It is -a matter entirely personal to you, of which I desired to speak with you, -and it is a very serious matter. You cannot extricate yourself from it -without my assistance and that of certain other persons who, like -myself, are prepared to risk their liberty, their honor, and their -lives, to save you." - -"Is it possible, uncle?" cried Michel; "can I not take the risk alone? -must you be involved in the mysterious perils which surround me without -my knowledge? Is it not my father alone who is in danger, and cannot I -save him?" - -"Your father is in danger, too, but in less danger than you. Do not -question me, but believe me. As I have told you, I detest unnecessary -violence, but I shrink from nothing which is right and necessary. I must -assist you, and I will assist you. You and your father can do nothing -without the Capuchin of Ætna and the remnant of the _Destatore's_ band. -We are all ready. You will forgive me if, before assuming such grave -risks, I desired to ascertain how far you were deserving of the devotion -of which you are to reap the benefits. If you had proved to be an -egotist simply, I would have assisted you to escape; but, if you are -worthy of the name of Sicilian, we will assist you to triumph over -destiny." - -"And you will not explain ----" - -"I will explain nothing that it is not necessary for you to know. I am -not allowed to do otherwise; and you must remember one thing, namely, -that by seeking to find out more than I am able to tell you, you will -simply increase our risks and add to the complications of your own -situation. Come, do me the favor to rely upon your uncle, and to -overcome the vain and restless curiosity of childhood. Try to become a -man between now and this evening, for this evening it may be necessary -to act." - -"I will ask but one thing of you, uncle, and that is to provide for my -father's safety and my sister's before thinking of me." - -"That is all done, my boy; at the first signal your father will seek -refuge in the mountains, and your sister with the lady who gave a ball -last night. Ah! the bell is ringing for service. I am going to ask the -superior's permission to go out with my nephew on some family business. -Wait for me at the door of our chapel." - -"And suppose he should refuse you?" - -"He would compel me to disobey him, which would grieve me deeply, I -confess, not because of the penance to-morrow, but because I do not like -to fail in my duty. The old soldier looks upon his orders as the supreme -law." - -Five minutes later, Fra Angelo joined Michel again at the door of the -church. - -"Granted," he said, "but I am commanded, in order to pay my debt to God, -to perform an act of faith and say a short prayer before the altar of -the Virgin. As I am excused from attending the evening services, the -least I can do is to ask pardon from my greatest superior. Come and pray -with me, young man; it can do you no harm, and will give you strength." - -Michel followed his uncle to the foot of the altar. The setting sun made -the stained-glass windows glow as with fire, and strewed with sapphires -and rubies the flagged floor on which the Capuchin knelt. Michel knelt -beside him, and watched him as he prayed with simple fervor. A -flame-colored pane, whose reflection fell upon his shaven head, made it -appear luminous and, as it were, aflame. The young painter was seized -with respect and enthusiastic admiration as he looked upon that noble, -strong and ingenuous face, which humbled itself in all sincerity in -prayer; and he, too, moved to the depths of his heart, prayed for his -country, his family and himself, with a simple faith and candor which he -had not known since his childhood. - - - - -XXIII - -THE DESTATORE - - -"May I venture to ask you where we are going, uncle?" queried Michel, -when they had taken a dark and narrow path which led among the old -olive-trees on the mountain. - -"Certainly," replied Fra Angelo; "we are going to call upon the last -real brigand in Sicily." - -"There are some left then?" - -"A few, although sadly deteriorated. They are still ready to fight for -their country, and they keep alive the last spark of the sacred flame. -However, I ought to tell you that they are a sort of cross between the -gallant fellows of long ago, who scrupulously refrained from taking a -hair from the head of a good patriot, and the cutthroats of the present -day, who kill and rob everyone they meet. These men discriminate when -they can; but, as their business has become very bad, and as the police -are more to be feared than in my time, they cannot always choose; so -that I do not hold them up as beyond reproach; but, such as they are, -they still have certain virtues which we should seek in vain elsewhere: -fidelity to their oaths, remembrance of past services, the revolutionary -spirit, love of country; in a word, all that remains of the chivalrous -spirit of our old bands still casts a faint gleam in the hearts of a few -poor fellows, who live by themselves, a half-sedentary, half-wandering -life. That is to say, they are settled in villages or in the open -country; they have their families there, and in some cases are supposed -to be peaceable husbandmen, submissive to the law, and having no quarrel -with the _campiere_.[2] If any of them are suspected, or, perhaps, -involved in some trouble, they are more wary, do not go to see their -wives or children except at night, or else remove their homes to some -almost inaccessible location. But the man whom we are going to see is -still free from any direct persecution. He lives openly in a neighboring -village, and can go where he pleases. You will not regret having made -his acquaintance, and I give you leave to study his character, for he is -a very interesting and remarkable person." - -"Should I be too inquisitive if I asked you to tell me a little -something about him beforehand?" - -"Certainly you ought to be told about him, and I will tell you. But it -is a momentous secret to place in your keeping, Michel, and it makes it -necessary for me to tell you another story. Do you know that I am going -to place in your hands the fate of a man whom the police are hunting -with all the energy and skill of which they are capable, and whose -features and true name they have never succeeded in finding out in the -six or seven years that have passed since he took up the _Destatore's_ -work? Tell me, my boy, have you never heard of the _Piccinino_ and his -band since you have been in Sicily?" - -"It seems to me that I have. Yes, yes, uncle, my sister Mila has some -fantastic stories about this Piccinino, who is the principal subject of -conversation among the young silk-weavers of Catania. He is a -redoubtable brigand, they say, who kidnaps women and kills men at the -very gates of the city. I have never believed these fables." - -"There is some truth at the bottom of all the popular legends," rejoined -the monk. "The Piccinino exists and plies his trade. There are two men -in him--the man whom the _campieri_ pursue in vain, and the man whom no -one dreams of suspecting. The man who leads hazardous expeditions and -assembles, at a mysterious signal, all the _nottoloni_[3] of any -consequence, scattered all over the island, to employ them in more or -less worthy enterprises; and the man who lives not far from this place, -in a pretty country house, free from all molestation, and with the -reputation of an intelligent, peaceably disposed man, opposed to bloody -strife and advanced opinions. Well, within an hour you will be in that -man's presence, you will know his true name, you will know his features, -and you will share with only two other persons outside of the band which -he commands the responsibility of his secret. You see that I treat you -as a man, my child, but one cannot realize the danger of another person -until he has himself been exposed to it. Henceforth you will have to pay -with your life for the slightest indiscretion, and, in addition, to -commit something more than a dastardly act, a horrible crime, of which -you will soon know the extent." - -"All these warnings are unnecessary, uncle; it is enough for me to know -that it would be an abuse of confidence." - -"I believe it, and yet I am not so sure of your prudence that I do not -feel that I must tell you everything which may increase it. Your father, -Princess Agatha, perhaps your sister, and myself beyond any -question--all of us--will have sacrificed life and honor for you, if you -are false to the oath I require of you. Swear, therefore, upon all that -you hold most sacred--upon the Holy Gospel--never to betray, even on the -scaffold, the true name of the Piccinino." - -"I swear it, uncle. Are you satisfied?" - -"Yes." - -"And will the Piccinino have the same confidence in my oath that you -have?" - -"Yes, although confidence is not a failing of his. But when I told him -of your visit, I gave him guarantees which could not fail to satisfy -him." - -"Very good! Now tell me what the relations are to be between this man -and myself?" - -"Patience, boy! I promised you another story, and here it is: - -"The _Destatore_ having become addicted to wine in his last years----" - -"So the _Destatore_ is dead, is he, uncle? You did not tell me of his -death." - -"I will tell you about it, although it is a very painful subject to me! -I told you of an abominable crime that he committed. He surprised and -carried off a girl,--a mere child,--who was walking with a nurse in this -neighborhood, and set her free again in two hours. But, alas! two hours -too late! No one witnessed his infamous act, but that very evening he -boasted of it to me and sneered at my indignation. I was beside myself -with horror and wrath, so that I cursed him, consigned him to the -furies, and abandoned him to enter this convent, where I soon took the -vows. I loved that man. I had been for many years under his influence; -and when I saw him ruining and degrading himself, I feared that I might -be led to follow his example. I determined to place between him and -myself an insurmountable barrier. I became a monk; that was one of the -most potent reasons for my decision. - -"My desertion affected him more deeply than I expected. He came secretly -to Bel Passo and resorted to every expedient--prayers and threats--to -induce me to return. He was eloquent, because he had an ardent and -sincere heart, despite his vagaries. I was inexorable, however, and I -did my utmost to convert him. I am not eloquent; I was even less so at -that time; but I felt so intensely all that I said to him--and faith had -taken so strong a hold upon my heart--that my arguments made a profound -impression upon him. I induced him to repair his crime as far as -possible by marrying the innocent victim of his violence. I went to her -by night and obtained her consent to look once more upon the detested -brigand's features. They were married that night, secretly but legally, -in the chapel before the altar where you prayed just now with me. And -when he saw that beautiful, pale-cheeked, terrified maiden, the Prince -of Castro-Reale was seized with remorse, and began to love her who was -destined always to abhor him! He entreated her to fly with him, and, -irritated by her refusal, thought of abducting her. But I had given that -child my word, and she displayed a strength of character and a pride far -beyond her years. She told him that she would never see him again; and -clinging to my gown and our prior's--a worthy man who carried all his -secrets with him to the grave--she cried: 'You swore that you would not -leave me alone with that man a minute, and would take me back to the -door of my home as soon as the marriage ceremony was finished. Do not -desert me, or I will beat out my brains on the steps of your church!' - -"She would have done as she said, the noble-hearted girl! But I had -sworn! I took her home in safety, and she never saw the _Destatore_ -again. - -"As for him, his suffering was beyond words. Resistance inflamed his -passion, and, for the first time in his life, he who had seduced and -abandoned so many women learned what love is. But he also learned what -remorse is, and from that day his mind was diseased. I hoped that he -would be truly converted. I had no thought of making a monk of him like -myself, but I wanted him to take up his old work, to renounce useless -crimes, debauchery and folly. I tried to convince him that, if he should -become once more the avenger of his country and the soul of our hope of -deliverance, his young wife would forgive him and consent to share his -painful but glorious destiny. Doubtless I myself would have thrown my -frock to the dogs and followed him. - -"But, alas! it would be too easy for men to mend their ways if crime and -vice would relax their grasp upon their victims as readily as we desire. -The _Destatore_ was no longer himself; he had become too thoroughly the -man of the past. The remorse that I aroused in him disturbed his reason -without appeasing his savage instincts. Sometimes a raving madman, -sometimes timid and superstitious, he would pray one day in our humble -chapel, bathed in tears; and the next day would return to his vomit--as -the Scripture says. He tried to kill all his companions; he tried to -kill me. He committed many more excesses, and one morning--it is hard -for me to carry my story through to the end, Michel, it gives me so much -pain!--one morning he was found dead at the foot of a cross, not far -from our convent. He had blown out his brains with a pistol!" - -"That was a horrible fate," said Michel, "and I do not know whether it -is the tone of your voice, uncle, or the ghastly memories of the place -where we are, but my emotions at this moment are most painful. It may be -that I heard my father tell the story in my childhood, and that the -memory of the terror it caused me then is revived by your words." - -"I do not believe that your father ever mentioned it to you," said the -Capuchin, after an interval of dismal silence. "I only speak of it -because I must, my child; for the remembrance is more painful to me than -to anybody on earth, and the place where we now are is by no means -calculated to arouse cheerful thoughts in my mind. See, yonder is the -cross whose base was drenched with his blood, and there I found him -lying, sadly disfigured. It was I who dug his grave with my own hands -under yonder rock in the bottom of the ravine. It was I who said the -prayers which anybody else would have refused to say for him. - -"Poor Castro-Reale, poor captain, poor fellow!" continued the Capuchin, -baring his head and extending his arm in the direction of a great black -rock which lay on the brink of the stream about fifty feet below the -road. "May God, who is inexhaustible mercy and infinite kindness, -forgive the errors of your life, as I forgive the sorrow you caused me! -I no longer remember aught save your years of valor; your noble deeds, -your lofty sentiments, and the ardent aspirations which we shared. God -will not be more severe than a poor fellow like me, will he, Michel?" - -"I do not believe in the everlasting resentment of the supreme and -perfect Being who governs the world," replied the young man. "But let us -go on, uncle; I am cold here, and I prefer to confess the strange -weakness that I feel rather than remain an instant longer at the foot of -this cross. I am afraid!" - -"I had rather see you tremble than laugh in this spot!" replied the -monk. "Come, give me your hand, and let us go on." - -They walked for some time in silence; then Fra Angelo, as if he wished -to divert Michel's thoughts, continued thus: "After the death of the -_Destatore_, many people, women especially,--for he had seduced more -than one--hurried to his hiding-place, hoping to obtain possession of -what money he might have left there for the children whose father he -was, or was supposed to be; but on the very morning of his suicide he -had taken the booty remaining from his last expeditions and carried it -to that one of his mistresses whom he loved best, or, to speak more -accurately, whom he hated least; for, although he had many flames, he -inspired even more, and all those women, forming a sort of ambulatory -harem, annoyed and irritated him beyond measure. They all wanted him to -marry them, for they did not know that he was married. Melina, of -Nicolosi, alone never burdened him with her reproaches or her demands. -She had loved him sincerely; she had abandoned herself to him without -resistance and without ulterior motives; she had given him a son whom he -preferred to the twelve or fifteen bastards who were reared under his -name among the mountains. Most of those bastards are still living, and -boast, rightly or wrongly, that they belong to him. All are brigands to -a greater or less extent. But the one whom the _Destatore_ never denied, -who resembles him in every feature, although his is a much reduced and -blurred impression of the father's masculine and energetic beauty; the -one who has grown to manhood with the design of succeeding to his work, -with protection and resources to which the others can lay no claim, that -one is the son of Melina, the young man whom we shall see very soon; he -is the leader of the brigands to whom I have referred, some of whom are, -as a matter of fact, his brothers; finally, he is the man whom you are -to know under his true name, Carmelo Tomabene, who is also known as _The -Piccinino_." - -"And the girl whom Castro-Reale abducted, whom you married to him--will -you not tell me her name, uncle?" - -"Her name and her story are a secret which only three persons know -to-day, she, myself, and one other. Stop there, Michel; no more -questions on that subject. Let us return to the Piccinino, son of the -Prince of Castro-Reale and of the peasant girl of Nicolosi. - -"This intrigue of the _Destatore_ was several years prior to his crime -and his marriage. The treasure he left was not very considerable; but, -as everything is relative, it was a fortune to Melina. She brought up -her son as if she intended that he should rise above his position; in -the bottom of her heart she longed to make a priest of him, and for -several years I was his tutor and his guide. But he was barely fifteen -years old when, having lost his mother, he left our convent and led a -wandering life until he attained his majority. He had always cherished -the idea of hunting up his father's former companions, and organizing a -new band with their aid; but, from respect for his mother's wishes, for -I ought to say that he really loved her, he had worked to acquire an -education as if he had, in fact, intended to devote himself to the -priestly profession. When he had recovered his liberty, he made use of -it without informing me of his purpose. He had always supposed that I -would blame him. Later, he was compelled to entrust his secret to me and -seek my advice. - -"I was not sorry, I confess, to be rid of the guardianship of that young -wolf, for he was the most untamable creature that I ever met. As -fearless as his father, and even more intelligent, he is by instinct so -cautious and cunning, and elusive, that I was uncertain at times whether -I was dealing with the vilest of hypocrites or with the shrewdest -diplomatist who ever tangled up the affairs of empires. He is a strange -mixture of perfidy and honor, of magnanimity and vindictiveness. He has -a portion of his father's virtues and good qualities. His vices and -failings are of a different sort. Like his father, he is loyal in -friendship, and his oath is sacred; but while his father, even when -carried away by fierce passions, was always a true believer, and indeed -devout in the depths of his heart, the son, if I am not mistaken, and if -he has not changed, is the most placid and coolest atheist that ever -lived. If he has passions, he gratifies them so secretly that they -cannot be discovered. I know of but one, and that I have made no attempt -to overcome,--it is hatred of the foreigner and love of country. That -love is so intense that he carries it even to love of locality. Far from -being a spendthrift like his father, he is economical and orderly, and -owns a pretty little estate at Nicolosi, with a garden and some land, -where he lives almost always alone, to all appearance, when he is not on -some secret expedition in the mountains. But he arranges his absences -with so much caution, and receives his friends with so much mystery, -that no one ever knows whether he is away from the house, or in his -garden, smoking and reading. In order to preserve this skilfully managed -freedom of action, he makes a practice of not replying or showing -himself when anyone knocks at his door. So that, when he is ten leagues -away, no one can say that he is not kept within the walls of his -fortress by a fit of unsociability. - -"He has retained the costume, and, so far as appears, the habits of a -wealthy peasant, and, although he is very well educated and very -eloquent on occasion, although he is fitted for any career, and capable -of distinguishing himself in many, he has such aversion for society and -the laws by which it is governed among us, that he prefers to remain a -bandit. To be simply a _villano_[4] in easy circumstances would not -satisfy him. He is energetic and ambitious, he has a genius for the -ruses of warfare, and a passion for adventures. Although it is a part of -his plan to conceal his shrewdness and his learning, those qualities -reveal themselves in spite of him, and he has great influence in his -village. He is looked upon there as an original character, but they -think highly of his advice, and consult him on every subject. He has -made it his duty to oblige everybody, because it is his policy to have -no enemies. He explains his frequent absences and the numerous visits he -receives as being connected with a small business in grain, which -requires journeys into the interior and somewhat extensive connections. -He carefully conceals his patriotism, but he investigates and knows all -about other people's, and at the first real uprising, he would have but -to wave his hand to raise the whole population of the mountain, and the -mountain would march with him." - -"I can understand that this man is a hero in your eyes, uncle, while you -have difficulty in esteeming one whose qualities are so faintly outlined -as mine." - -"I esteem the quality of words, not their number," replied the Capuchin. -"You have said two or three words which satisfy me, and as for my hero, -as you call him, he is so far from being lavish with them that I have -had to judge him by deeds rather than by speech. I, myself, rarely speak -of matters upon which I feel very strongly, and if you find me prolix -to-day, it is because I am obliged to tell you in two hours what I have -had no chance to tell you in the eighteen years that you have been in -this world, a stranger to me. However, reserve is not a defect in my -eyes. I loved Castro-Reale as I shall never love anybody else; and we -passed whole days together, by ourselves, without speaking a word. He -was suspicious, as every true Sicilian should be, and so long as he -distrusted himself and others, he had a noble heart and a noble spirit." - -"The young man we are going to see must be very deeply attached to you, -uncle, since you are sure of finding him prepared to receive me?" - -"If he loves anyone on earth, I am that one, although I scolded and -worried him well when he was my pupil. However, I am not perfectly -certain that he will grant what I have to ask him in your behalf. He -will have to overcome some repugnance; but I hope for the best." - -"Doubtless he knows all that you will not allow me to know myself of my -affairs and my destiny?" - -"He? he knows nothing whatsoever of them, and he shall know nothing -before you do. The little that you are both to know for the present, I -will tell you both. After that, it may be that the Piccinino will guess -more than he should. His penetration is very keen; but whatever he may -guess, he will never tell you; and he will never ask you what he wants -to find out; my mind is at rest so far as that is concerned. Now, -silence; we are coming out of the woods into a cultivated and settled -part of the mountain. We must be seen by as few people as possible on -our way to the place where our man awaits us." - -They walked silently and cautiously along hedges and clumps of trees, -keeping in the shadow and avoiding trodden paths; and in the gathering -dusk they soon reached the Piccinino's abode. - - -[Footnote 2: The gendarmes or police of the island.] - -[Footnote 3: People who attend to their business by night.] - -[Footnote 4: That is to say, a _villain_ or serf.] - - - - -XXIV - -IL PICCININO - - -On that side of the mountain which Fra Angelo and Michel had been -constantly ascending for two hours, the large, thickly populated village -of Nicolosi is the last civilized point at which the traveller who -wishes to visit the top of Ætna stops for breath before entering the -grand and imposing region of forests. This second belt is called -_Silvosa_ or _Nemorosa_, and the cold is intense there. The vegetation -then becomes depressingly wild and more sparse, until it finally -disappears altogether under lichens and heaps of gravel, beyond which -all is snow, sulphur, and smoke. - -Nicolosi and the magnificent landscape surrounding it were already -enveloped in the evening mist when Michel tried to form some idea of the -place where he was. The imposing mass of Ætna was of the same uniform -shade, and he could barely distinguish, a mile above him, the frowning -peak of _Monte-Rosso_, that subaltern volcano, one of the twenty or -thirty sons of Ætna, extinct or recently opened furnaces, which rear -their heads like a battery of artillery at its foot. It was Monte-Rosso -that opened its black maw, less than two centuries ago, to vomit forth -that death-dealing lava with which the bottom of the bay of Catania is -still furrowed. To-day the peasants raise grapes and olives on débris -which seems to be burning still. - -The Piccinino's house stood by itself on the mountain, about half a mile -from the village, from which it was separated by a steep ravine; it was -on the uppermost edge of a fertile tract, where the atmosphere was soft -and balmy. A few hundred feet higher it began to be cold, and the -terrors of the desert were foreshadowed by the absence of tilled land, -and by ridges of lava so numerous and so broad that the mountain seemed -inaccessible in that direction. Michel observed that the situation was -particularly favorable to the purposes of a man who was half citizen, -half outlaw. At home, he could enjoy all the comforts of life; on -leaving his home, he at once escaped from the presence of his fellow-men -and the requirements of the law. - -The hill, the slope of which was very abrupt on one side, but gentle and -fertile on the other, was covered to its very summit with luxuriant -vegetation, whose mysterious exuberance was sedulously fostered by an -industrious and intelligent hand. Carmelo Tomabene's garden was renowned -for its beauty and the great abundance of its fruits and flowers. But -its entrance was jealously guarded, and it was enclosed on all sides by -high verdure-covered palisades. The house, which was of considerable -size and well built, although without apparent striving for effect, -stood upon the site of a small abandoned fort. Some fragments of thick -walls, and the base of a square tower, which had been utilized to -strengthen and enlarge the new building, which bore the marks of -extensive repairs, gave to the modest structure an air of solidity, and -of semi-rustic, semi-seignoral importance. However, it was simply the -dwelling of a well-to-do farmer, although one felt that a man of refined -habits and tastes might find life enjoyable therein. - -Fra Angelo approached the gate, and pulled a bell-cord, which, starting -among the honeysuckles in which the gate was embowered, followed a long -vine-clad arbor and was connected with a bell inside the house; but the -sound of the bell was so deadened that it could not be heard outside. -The cord was not visible amid the foliage, and one needed to be -previously cognizant of its existence to make use of it. The monk pulled -the cord three times, at carefully measured intervals; then five times, -then twice, then three times again; after which he folded his arms for -five minutes, when he repeated the signals in the same order and with -the same care. One ring more or less and the mysterious proprietor might -have allowed them to wait all night without admitting them. - -At last the garden gate was opened. A small man, wrapped in a cloak, -approached, took Fra Angelo by the hand, whispered to him for some -moments, then turned to Michel, bade him enter, and walked before them, -after closing the gate. They walked through the long arbor which formed -a cross extending the whole length and width of the garden, and entered -the house through a sort of rustic porch formed of large pillars covered -with vine and jasmine. Their host then ushered them into a large room, -neatly and simply furnished, where everything indicated regularity and -sobriety on the part of the owner. There he invited them to sit, and, -stretching himself out on an enormous couch covered with red silk, -coolly lighted his cigar; then, without any demonstration of -friendliness toward the monk, he waited for him to speak. He showed no -impatience, no curiosity. He gave his whole attention to removing his -brown cloak lined with pink, carefully folding it, and rearranging his -silk sash, as if he desired to be perfectly comfortable while listening -to what they had to say to him. - -But what was Michel's surprise when he finally recognized in the young -_villano_ of Nicolosi the stranger who had caused a momentary sensation -at the princess's ball, and with whom he had exchanged a few far from -friendly words on the stoop of the palace! - -He was disturbed by the thought that that incident was unlikely to -dispose in his favor the man at whose hands he was about to ask a -service. But the Piccinino did not seem to recognize him, and Michel -concluded that it would be as well not to remind him of that unpleasant -incident. - -He had plenty of leisure to examine his features and to seek therein -some indication of his character. But it was impossible for him to -detect any trace of emotion, of determination, of any human feeling, on -that impassive and expressionless face. It was not even impertinent, -although his attitude and his silence might seem to denote a purpose to -display contempt. - -The Piccinino was a young man of about twenty-five years. His short -stature and slender figure justified the sobriquet which had been given -him, and to which he submitted with more coquetry than vexation.[5] It -is impossible to imagine a more slender and delicate, and, at the same -time, more perfect figure, than that young man's. Admirably -proportioned, and modelled like an antique bronze, he made up for his -lack of muscular strength by extreme suppleness. He was reputed to be -without a compeer in all bodily exercises, although he was dependent -solely upon his address, his coolness, his agility, and the unerring -accuracy of his glance. No one could tire him at walking, or overtake -him at running. He climbed precipices with the self-possession of a -chamois; he was as good a shot with the rifle as with the pistol or the -sling; and in all sports of that sort he was so sure of winning all the -prizes that he had ceased to take the trouble to compete. He was an -excellent horseman and a fearless swimmer; in fact, there was no method -of locomotion or of fighting in which he was not certain to display a -marked superiority to anyone who ventured to try conclusions with him. -Being fully alive to the advantages of physical strength in a -mountainous country, and with the life of an adventurer before him, he -had striven in early years to acquire what nature seemed to have denied -him in that regard. He had exercised and developed his muscles with -incredible energy and persistence, and had succeeded in making his -fragile frame the trusty slave and obedient instrument of his will. - -And yet, seeing him reclining thus upon his couch, one might have taken -him for a sickly or indolent woman. Michel did not know that, after -travelling twenty leagues on foot during the day, he systematically -rested for a certain number of hours, and that he had watched and -studied himself so closely in every respect that he knew exactly how -many moments he must pass in a horizontal position in order to escape -the annoyance of a lame back and legs. - -His face was of a peculiar type of beauty: it was the Siculo-Arabian[6] -type in all its purity. Extraordinary sharpness of outline, a somewhat -exaggerated oriental profile, long, languishing, velvety black eyes, a -shrewd and lazy smile, a wholly feminine grace, and an indefinable -gentleness and coldness which it was impossible to explain at the first -glance. - -The Piccinino was dressed with extreme care and scrupulous neatness. He -wore the picturesque costume of the peasants of the mountain, but it was -made of fine, light materials. His breeches, short and tight-fitting, -were of a soft woollen fabric, with silk stripes, yellow and brown. His -bare leg, white as alabaster, was visible above his scarlet -_spadrilles_. His shirt was of embroidered linen, trimmed with lace, and -afforded a glimpse of a heavy gold chain, intertwined with hair, upon -his breast. His sash was of green silk stitched with silver. He was -arrayed from head to foot in smuggled garments, or something worse; for -if you had examined the marks on his linen, you might have convinced -yourself that it came from the last valise he had robbed. - -While Michel was contemplating with admiration, mingled with some inward -irony, the ease with which that well-favored youth rolled a cigarette of -Algerian tobacco in his fingers, slender and tapering as a Bedouin's, -Fra Angelo, who seemed neither surprised nor annoyed by his reception, -made a circuit of the room, bolted the door, and, having inquired if -they were quite alone in the house, to which query the Piccinino replied -in the affirmative with a nod, he began thus: - -"I thank you, my son, for not compelling me to wait for this -appointment. I have come to ask a favor at your hands: are you able and -willing to devote a few days to it?" - -"A few days?" repeated the Piccinino, in such a soft voice that Michel -was fain to glance anew at the muscles of steel in his legs in order to -be sure that it was not a woman who spoke; but the tone of the voice -signified too clearly to be misunderstood: "You are jesting!" - -"I said a few days," rejoined the monk, calmly. "You will have to go -down the mountain, follow this young man, my nephew, to Catania, and -stay by him until you have succeeded in relieving him from an enemy who -is tormenting him." - -The Piccinino turned slowly toward Michel, and stared at him as if he -had not previously seen him; then, taking from his belt a richly-mounted -stiletto, he presented it to him with an almost imperceptible smile of -irony and contempt, as if to say: "You are old enough and strong enough -to defend yourself." - -Michel, annoyed at being placed in such a position, was about to make a -sharp retort, when Fra Angelo cut him short, placing his iron hand on -his shoulder. - -"Be quiet, my boy," he said; "you do not know what I am talking about, -and there is no occasion for you to speak. My friend," he continued, -addressing the bandit, "if my nephew were not a man and a Sicilian, I -should not introduce him to you. I am going to tell you what we expect -of you, unless you tell me beforehand that you cannot or will not help -us." - -"Padre Angelo," replied the bandit, taking the monk's hand, and putting -it to his lips with a caressing gesture and an affectionate glance that -changed the character of his face entirely, "whatever you may ask, I am -always willing to do for you. But no man can do all that he is willing -to do. So I must know what it is." - -"A man annoys us." - -"I understand." - -"We do not wish to kill him." - -"You are unwise." - -"By killing him we ruin ourselves; by putting him out of the way we are -saved." - -"He is to be kidnapped then?" - -"Yes, but we do not know how to go about it." - -"What! _you_ do not know, Padre Angelo?" said the Piccinino with a -smile. - -"I should have known in the old days," replied the Capuchin. "I had -friends and places of shelter. Now, I am a monk." - -"You are foolish," rejoined the bandit with undisturbed tranquillity. -"So, I am to kidnap a man, am I? Is he very stout, very heavy?" - -"He is very light," replied the monk, who apparently understood that -metaphor, "and no one will give you a ducat for his skin." - -"In that case, good-evening, father; I can't take him alone and put him -in my pocket like a handkerchief. I must have men, and they are not to -be had for nothing, as in your day." - -"You don't understand me; you may fix the compensation of your men -yourself, and they shall be paid." - -"Do you make yourself responsible for that, father?" - -"I do." - -"You alone?" - -"I alone. And, so far as you are concerned, if the affair had not been a -magnificent one, I should not have selected you." - -"Well, we will see about it next week," rejoined the bandit, in order to -obtain more ample information as to the profits of the affair. - -"In that case, we will say nothing more about it," said the monk, hurt -by his distrust; "we must go forward at once or not at all." - -"At once? What about a chance to collect my men, persuade them, and give -them their instructions?" - -"You can do it to-morrow morning, and to-morrow night they can be at -their posts." - -"I see that you are in no great hurry, or you would have told me to -start to-night. If you can wait until to-morrow, you can wait a -fortnight." - -"No; for I intend to take you away with me now, send you to a certain -villa where you will talk with one of the persons interested in the -success of the affair, and give you until to-morrow night to inspect the -locality, become acquainted with all necessary details, set up your -batteries, notify your men, station them, arrange for allies in the -citadel. Bah! it is more time than you need! At your age I wouldn't have -asked your father for half of it." - -Michel saw that the Capuchin had touched the right chord at last; for -when he was appealed to as the son of the Prince of Castro-Reale, a -title which nobody dared or chose to give him openly, the Piccinino -started, sat up and sprang to his feet as if he were ready to start at -once. But suddenly he put his hand to his leg and fell back on the -couch. - -"It is impossible," he said, "I am in too much pain." - -"What is the matter?" asked Fra Angelo. "Are you wounded? Is that spent -ball of last year still troubling you? In the old days we used to march -with bullets in our bodies. Your father did thirty leagues without -thinking of having the one extracted that he received in the thigh at -Leon-Forte; but the young men of to-day need a year to be cured of a -bruise." - -Michel thought that his uncle had gone a little too far, for the -Piccinino resumed his recumbent attitude with a gesture of profound -indignation, stretched himself on his back, puffed away at his -cigarette, and maliciously left to the good priest the embarrassing -necessity of continuing the conversation. - -But Fra Angelo was perfectly sure that the idea of a supply of ducats -had appealed to the young bandit's unsentimental mind, and he continued -without the slightest hesitation: - -"I give you half an hour, my son, if you absolutely need it; half an -hour is a long while for the blood that flows in your veins! then we -will all three start." - -"Who is this youngster, pray?" said the Piccinino, indicating Michel -with the end of his finger, but without removing his eyes from the wall. - -"He is my nephew, as I have told you; and Fra Angelo's nephew is to be -relied on. But he doesn't know the country, and has not the necessary -connections for an affair of this sort." - -"Is the _signorino_ afraid of compromising himself?" - -"No, signor!" cried Michel, irritated beyond endurance, and unable to -bear longer the bandit's insolence and the restraint which his uncle -imposed upon him. The bandit turned, looked him in the face with his -long eyes, which seemed to turn up a little toward the temples, and -whose mocking expression was sometimes intolerable. But when he saw -Michel's animated face and pale lips, he assumed a more amiable -expression, albeit a little suspicious still, and said, offering him his -hand: - -"Let us be friends, at all events, until we have no other enemies on our -hands; that is our wisest course." - -As Michel was seated at some distance, he would have had to rise to take -that hand, extended with a kingly gesture. He smiled and did not move, -at the risk of displeasing his uncle and losing the fruit of their -expedition. - -But the monk was not sorry to see Michel adopt that attitude with -respect to the bandit. The latter understood that he had no -weak-spirited creature to deal with, and, rising with an effort, he went -to him and took his hand. - -"You are cruel, my young master," he said, "to refuse to take two steps -toward a man who is completely tired out. You haven't travelled twenty -leagues to-day, and you insist upon my starting off again when I have -had barely two hours' rest!" - -"At your age," said the unrelenting monk, "I used to walk twenty leagues -a day, and not take time to sup before starting again. Well, have you -decided? Shall we start?" - -"You care a good deal about it, don't you? Are you personally interested -in the affair?" - -"I care about it as I do about my everlasting salvation, and the affair -is of the deepest interest to the persons who are dearer to me than -anybody else on earth since your father died. My brother is in danger, -as well as this excellent young man, for whom I demand your sincere and -loyal friendship." - -"Have I not shaken his hand?" - -"Therefore I count upon you. When I see that you are ready, I will tell -you something that will be a more enticing bait to you than gold or -glory." - -"I am ready. Is it an enemy of the country who is to be killed?" - -"I told you that there is nobody to be killed; you forget that I serve -the God of peace and mercy. But there is some one to be thwarted, some -one whose treacherous plans must be utterly foiled; and that man is a -spy and a traitor." - -"His name?" - -"Will you come?" - -"Am I not on my feet?" - -"Abbé Ninfo." - -The Piccinino began to laugh, a silent laugh in which there was -something ghastly. - -"May I be permitted to thwart him?" he asked. - -"Morally, yes. But not a drop of blood must be shed!" - -"Morally! good, I will exert my wits. Courage is not current coin with -that fellow; but as we have made our bargain, or nearly so, it is time -to explain to me the motive of this abduction." - -"I will explain it to you, and you can reflect upon it as we walk." - -"Impossible. I cannot do two things at once. I reflect only when my body -is at rest." - -And he coolly lay down again after relighting his cigarette. - -Fra Angelo saw clearly enough that he would not allow himself to be led -into action with his eyes closed. - -"You know," he said, with no indication of impatience, "that Ninfo is -the tool, the spy, the inseparable companion of a certain cardinal?" - -"Hieronymo de Palmarosa?" - -"You know also that my older brother, Pier-Angelo, was forced to leave -Sicily eighteen years ago?" - -"I know it. It was his own fault! My father was still alive. He might -have joined him instead of abandoning his country." - -"You are mistaken; your father was dead. You were an infant, I was a -monk! There was nothing to be done here." - -"Go on." - -"My brother returned, as you know, a year ago; and his son, Michelangelo -here, returned a week ago." - -"What for?" - -"To assist his father in his trade and his country on occasion. But -there is already a denunciation hanging over him as well as over his -father. The cardinal still has his memory, and does not forgive. Ninfo -is prepared to act in his name." - -"What are they waiting for?" - -"I don't know why the cardinal is waiting so long before dying, but I -can say that Ninfo is waiting for the cardinal's death." - -"Why?" - -"In order to seize his papers before there is time to put seals on them -and notify his heiress." - -"Who is the heiress?" - -"Princess Agatha de Palmarosa." - -"Ah! yes," said the bandit, changing his position, "a beautiful woman, -so they say." - -"That has nothing to do with the affair. But do you understand now why -it is necessary that Abbé Ninfo should disappear during the cardinal's -last moments?" - -"So that he cannot seize the papers, you said. He may cheat Princess -Agatha out of important documents, abstract a will. It is a serious -matter for her. She is very rich, is she not? Thanks to her father's and -uncle's _loyal opinions_, the government has left her all her property, -and does not crush her life out with forced contributions." - -"She is very rich, so that it is a great opportunity for you, for she is -no less generous than rich." - -"I understand. And then, she is a very beautiful woman!" - -His insistence upon that consideration sent a shudder of anger through -Michel's veins; the bandit's impertinence seemed intolerable to him; but -Fra Angelo was not disturbed by it. He believed that it was simply a -trick of the Piccinino's, to conceal his rapacity beneath an air of -gallantry. - -"So I am to act for your brother and nephew incidentally," continued the -bandit, "while in reality I am to rescue the Princess of Palmarosa's -future fortune by laying hands upon the suspicious person of Abbé -Ninfo? Is that it?" - -"That is it," the monk replied. "The signora has to look out for her -interests, and I for my family. That is why I have advised her to seek -your assistance, and why I consented to convey her request." - -The Piccinino seemed to reflect a moment; then, suddenly throwing -himself back on his cushions, he exclaimed, in a voice broken by peals -of hearty laughter: - -"A most excellent story! This is one of the most attractive adventures -in which I have ever taken part!" - - -[Footnote 5: The Piccinino is a friendly diminutive which the -mountaineers might well have given him because of his small size. But -the phrase _piccin-piccino_ signifies the act of hiding in order to -prove an _alibi_.] - -[Footnote 6: That is to say, modified Arabian, as found in Sicily.] - - - - -XXV - -THE DESTATORE'S CROSS - - -This outburst of merriment, which seemed exceedingly insolent to Michel, -alarmed the monk at last; but, giving him no time to question him, the -Piccinino resumed his seriousness as abruptly as he had laid it aside. - -"The affair becomes clearer," he said. "One point is still obscure; why -does Ninfo wait for the cardinal to die before denouncing your kinsmen?" - -"Because he knows that the princess is their protector," the Capuchin -replied; "that she has affection and esteem for the honest old artisan -who has been working in her palace for a year past, and that, to save -them from persecution, she would allow herself to be bled by that -infamous priest. So he says to himself that when the cardinal is dead he -will have that noble lady's fate in his hands absolutely, and that he -will be at liberty to ruin her to his own profit. Doesn't it seem better -to you that the Princess Agatha, who is a good Sicilian, should inherit -the cardinal's property peaceably, and recompense handsomely the -services of a gallant fellow like yourself, than that she should spend -her money to buy the silence of a venomous reptile like Ninfo?" - -"That is my opinion. But how can you be sure that the will has not been -already abstracted? - -"We know on good authority that it cannot have been yet." - -"I must be certain of it! for I don't choose to exert myself, and then -obtain nothing that is of any value." - -"What does it matter if your pay is the same?" - -"Ah! Brother Angelo," said the Piccinino, rising on his elbow and -assuming an air of pride which made his listless eyes gleam for an -instant, "for what do you take me? It seems to me that you have -forgotten me in some measure. Am I a _bravo_, to be paid by the job or -by the day? I have always flattered myself upon being a loyal friend, a -man of honor, a devoted partisan; and lo and behold! apparently ashamed -of the pupil you trained, you treat me like a mercenary, ready to do -anything for a little gold! Disabuse yourself of that idea, in God's -name. I do justice fortuitously, as my father did; and if I sometimes -work on different lines from those he followed--if, conforming to the -spirit of the age we live in, I use my shrewdness more often than my -courage--I am none the less high-spirited and independent. Being more -useful and more in request than a notary, lawyer or doctor, if I put a -high price on my services, or give them _gratis_, according to the means -of those who seek them, I have no love for my art and no respect for my -own intelligence. I shall never waste my time and trouble in earning -money without guarding the interests of my clients; and, just as the -famous advocate refuses to undertake a cause which he is sure of losing, -just as a captain refuses to risk his men in an unnecessary action, just -as an honest doctor ceases his visits when it is no longer in his power -to relieve his patient, so do I, my father, refuse your offers, for they -do not satisfy my conscience." - -"There was no need of your saying all that to me," said Fra Angelo, -still as calm as ever. "I know what sort of man you are, and I should -consider that I degraded myself by seeking the aid of a man whom I did -not esteem." - -"In that case," replied the Piccinino, with increasing excitement, "why -do you lack confidence in me? Why do you tell me only a part of the -truth?" - -"You want me to tell you where the cardinal's will is concealed? That I -do not know, nor have I ever thought of asking." - -"That is impossible." - -"I swear to you before God, boy, that I have no idea. I know that it is -out of Ninfo's reach for the present, and that he cannot obtain -possession of it while the cardinal lives except with his assent." - -"And how do you know that he has not already given his assent?" - -"The Princess Agatha is certain of it. She told me so, and that was -enough for me." - -"But suppose it isn't enough for me? Suppose I have no confidence in -that woman's shrewdness and foresight? Don't you know that women have no -talent whatever for that sort of thing? Have they any other talent in -the way of divining or pretending than the talent they place at the -service of love?" - -"You have become very learned on this subject, and I have continued to -be quite ignorant; however, my friend, if you desire to know further -details, ask the princess herself for them, and you will probably be -satisfied. I intended to put you in communication with her to-night." - -"To-night? in direct communication? Shall I be able to talk with her -alone?" - -"Surely, if you consider it necessary to the success of our -undertaking." - -The Piccinino turned abruptly to Michel, and looked at him without -saying a word. - -The young artist was unable to sustain that gaze without distress. The -adventurer's manner of speaking of Agatha had already irritated him -exceedingly, and to keep himself in countenance he was forced to take a -cigarette which the bandit suddenly offered him with an ironical and -quasi-patronizing air. - -The Piccinino had risen, and seemed to have fully made up his mind to -go. He began to unbuckle his sash, shaking and stretching his legs like -a hunting-dog preparing for the chase. - -He passed into another room, and soon returned, dressed with more care -and more simply. He had covered his bare legs with long gaiters of white -wool like those worn by the Italian mountaineers. But all the buttons, -from ankle to knee, were of fine gold. He had put on the twofold -doublet, the outer one of green velvet embroidered with gold; the inner -one shorter, and less full, and of fashionable cut, was of lilac watered -silk, embroidered with silver. A white leather belt encircled his supple -waist; but, instead of the copper buckle, he wore a superb clasp of -antique coraline, richly mounted. No weapons were visible, but there -could be no question that he was provided with most adequate means of -defence. Finally, he had exchanged his showy cloak for the classic cloak -of black woollen cloth, lined with white, and covered his head with the -pointed hood that gives the aspect of monks or ghosts to all the -mysterious figures that one meets on mountain paths. - - -[Illustration: _THE CONFERENCE WITH THE -PICCININO._ - -_"Come" he said, looking himself over in a large -mirror that hung against the wall; "I can appear -before a woman now without frightening her. What -do you think about it, Michelangelo Lavoratori?_"] - - -"Come," he said, looking himself over in a large mirror that hung -against the wall; "I can appear before a woman now without frightening -her. What do you think about it, Michelangelo Lavoratori?" - -And, heedless of the impression that that conceited tone might produce -on the young artist, he set about closing his house with the utmost -care. After which, he gayly passed his arm through Michel's, and started -off so swiftly that the others had difficulty in keeping pace with him. - -When they had passed Nicolosi, Fra Angelo, stopping at a place where two -paths converged, took leave of his young friends, to return to his -monastery, advising them not to lose time escorting him thither. - -"The leave granted me expires in half an hour," he said. "It may be that -I shall have many other favors to ask within a short time, and I must -not abuse this one. Yonder is the direct road to the Villa Palmarosa -without passing Bel Passo. You do not need me to be introduced to the -princess's presence. She has been notified and she expects you. Here is -a key to the park, Michel, and one to the little garden outside the -Casino. You know the staircase cut in the rock. You must ring twice, -thrice and once at the small gilt gate at the top. Until then avoid -being seen, and make sure that nobody is following you. When the maid -comes to open the gate leading into the private garden, your countersign -will be _Blessed Madonna of Bel Passo_. Do not lose these keys, Michel. -Within a few days all the locks have been changed secretly, and the new -ones are so complicated, that unless he applies to the locksmith who -furnished them, and who is incorruptible, it will be impossible -henceforth for Ninfo to get into the villa by means of false keys. One -word more, my children. If any unforeseen occurrence should make my -presence urgently necessary during the night, the Piccinino knows my -cell and how to get into the convent." - -"I should say as much!" said the bandit, when they had left the -Capuchin; "I have indulged in enough escapades at night and returned -just before dawn often enough, to know how to climb the walls of the -convent of Mal Passo. Well, my friend, we no longer have to be careful -of good Brother Angelo's legs; we will run a bit on this slope, and you -will be kind enough not to lag behind, for I am not inclined to follow -beaten paths. It is not my custom, and the way the crow flies is much -safer and more expeditious." - -As he spoke he darted in among the rocks which descended abruptly to the -bed of the stream, as if he proposed to jump over. It was a very bright -night, as almost all nights are in that beautiful climate. But the moon, -which was just rising and casting huge shadows across the ravines, made -everything uncertain and deceptive to the eye. If Michel had not kept -close to his guide, he would have been completely at a loss what course -to take among masses of lava and steep cliffs which it seemed impossible -to climb. Although the Piccinino was perfectly familiar with the -practicable spots, there were some so dangerous and difficult that -Michel would have refused to take the risk, except for the fear of being -considered cowardly and awkward. But the rivalry of self-love is a spur -which increases a man's faculties tenfold, and, at the risk of killing -himself twenty times over, the young artist followed the bandit without -stumbling and without uttering a word which betrayed his discomfort and -his distrust. - -We say distrust, because he soon felt sure that all this trouble and -contempt of danger did not shorten their road. It might be a malicious -device on the part of the adventurer to test his strength, his agility, -and his courage, or an attempt to elude him. He was almost convinced of -it, when, after half an hour of this wild chase, and after thrice -crossing the same winding stream, they found themselves in the bottom of -a ravine which Michel thought that he recognized as one that he and the -Capuchin had skirted on the higher land on their way to Nicolosi. He did -not choose to make that suggestion; but he involuntarily paused a moment -to look at the stone cross at the foot of which the _Destatore_ had -blown out his brains, and which stood out against the sky on the edge of -the ravine. Then, looking about, he recognized the block of black lava -which Fra Angelo had pointed out to him from a distance, and which -served as a monument to the bandit chief. It was only a few steps away, -and the Piccinino had walked thither and was standing beside the rock, -with folded arms, in the attitude of a man stopping to take breath. - -What could have been the Piccinino's idea in making that dangerous and -useless détour in order to pass his father's grave? Could he be -ignorant of the fact that he was buried there? or was he less reluctant -to walk over his remains than to pass the cross which had witnessed his -suicide? Michel dared not question him upon so painful and delicate a -subject; he too, stopped, said nothing, and wondered why he had felt -such a painful thrill when Fra Angelo had told him of the _Destatore's_ -tragic end. He knew himself well enough to be sure that he was neither -cowardly nor superstitious, and at that moment he felt perfectly calm -and superior to all vain terrors. He had no other sensation than a sort -of disgust and indignation at the appearance of the young bandit, who -was leaning against the fatal rock and tranquilly striking his flint to -light a fresh cigarette. - -"Do you know what this stone is?" demanded the extraordinary young man, -abruptly; "and do you know what happened at the foot of yonder cross -that cuts the moon in two from where we stand?" - -"I do know," replied Michel, coldly; "but I hoped for your sake that you -did not know." - -"Ah! you are like Padre Angelo, are you?" rejoined the bandit, -carelessly; "you are surprised that, when I pass this spot I don't drop -on my knees and recite an _oremus_ for my father's soul? In order to go -through with that classic ceremony three beliefs are requisite, none of -which I have: first, that there is a God; second, that man has an -immortal soul; third, that my prayers can serve the slightest purpose in -case my father's soul is undergoing merited punishment. You consider me -impious, I presume? I will bet that you are as much so as I am, and that -if it weren't for the respect of other men and a sort of hypocritical -sense of propriety to which everybody, even the man of intellect, feels -bound to submit, you would say that I am perfectly right!" - -"I shall never submit to any hypocritical sense of propriety," replied -Michel. "I believe firmly and sincerely in the three things in which you -boast that you do not believe." - -"Ah! then you are horrified by my atheism?" - -"No, for I choose to believe that it is involuntary, and I have no right -to be scandalized by an error, when my own mind certainly is not open to -the absolute truth in many other respects. I am not a devotee, that I -should blame and condemn those who don't think as I do. But I will tell -you frankly that there is one sort of atheism which appals and disgusts -me: that is atheism of the heart, and I am very much afraid that yours -does not flow from the inclination of your mind alone." - -"Good! good! go on!" said the Piccinino, surrounding himself with clouds -of tobacco smoke, with a careless vivacity, perhaps a little forced. -"You think that I have a heart of stone, because I do not shed torrents -of tears to my father's memory over this rock, which I am forced to pass -every day, and on which I have sat a hundred times?" - -"I know that you lost him when you were so young that you could not -regret his companionship. I know that you must be accustomed, almost -indifferent, to the gloomy memories connected with this spot. I say -everything to myself to excuse your lack of feeling, but it does not -justify in my eyes the species of bravado with which you place before -me, designedly, I believe, the strange spectacle. I never knew your -father, and had no tie of kinship with him, and yet the fact that my -uncle loved him dearly and that a portion of his life was made -illustrious by patriotic and valorous deeds is enough to inspire me with -profound respect beside his grave, and to make me feel distressed and -offended by your attitude at this moment." - -"Master Michel," said the Piccinino, abruptly throwing away his -cigarette and turning upon him with a threatening gesture, "it seems to -me that you are a very strange young man to dare to rebuke me in this -way, considering our position with respect to each other. You forget, I -fancy, that I know your secrets, that I am at liberty to be your friend -or your enemy; in short, that, at this moment, in this solitude, in this -infernal spot where I may not be so entirely cold-blooded as you think, -your life is in my hands!" - -"The only thing that I have any reason to fear," rejoined Michel, -calmly, "is that I may play the pedagogue inopportunely. That part is -not suited to my years or my tastes. I will remind you, therefore, that -if you had not incited my comments by a sort of persistence in -questioning me, I should have spared you the infliction. As for your -threats, I will not say that I consider myself able to defend myself as -powerfully and calmly as you would be likely to attack me. I know that, -at a whistle from you, an armed man would start up from behind every -rock in the neighborhood. I trusted to your word, and I did not arm -myself to walk with a man who offered me his hand, saying: 'Let us be -friends.' But if my uncle is mistaken with respect to your loyalty, and -if you have led me into a trap, or--as I should prefer to believe for -your own sake--if the effect of this spot is to disturb your mind and -make you irresponsible, I will none the less tell you what I think, and -I will not stoop to flatter the shortcomings upon which you seem to -plume yourself for my benefit." - -As he concluded, Michel opened his cloak to show the bandit that he had -not even a knife upon his person, then sat down, facing him, and looking -him in the eye with the utmost coolness. It was the first time he had -ever been in such a position, for which he had certainly had no time to -prepare himself, and from which he was not at all sure of extricating -himself unharmed; for as the moon, emerging from behind the _Destatore's -Cross_, fell full upon the young bandit's face, Michel was no longer in -doubt as to the ferocity and treachery of his expression. Nevertheless -Pier-Angelo's son, the nephew of the intrepid Capuchin of Bel Passo, -felt that his heart was untouched by fear, and that the first serious -danger which threatened his young life found him proud and undaunted. - -The Piccinino, seeing how near he was, and that his own face was so -illuminated by the moon, tried for a moment the terrifying effect of his -tiger-like eyes; but having failed to make Michel lower his, and -detecting no sign of poltroonery in his face or attitude, he suddenly -sat down beside him and took his hand. - -"Upon my word," he said, "although I do my utmost to despise you and -hate you, I cannot succeed; I fancy that you have sufficient penetration -to guess that I would rather kill you than save you, as I have -undertaken to do. You are an embarrassment to me in respect to certain -illusions which you can readily imagine: you balk me in certain hopes -which I cherished, and which I am by no means inclined to renounce. But -I am not bound by my word simply, but by a certain sympathetic feeling -for you which I cannot shake off. I should lie if I said that I love -you, and that it is a pleasant occupation to me to defend your life. But -I esteem you, and that is a good deal. I assure you, you did well to -answer me as you did; for now I can confess to you that this place -sometimes brings on fits of madness; and I have formed terrible -resolutions here on many a momentous occasion. You were not safe with me -a moment ago; and I should not care to hear you utter a certain name -again. Let us not stay here any longer, and do you take this stiletto, -which I offered you once before. A Sicilian ought always to be ready to -use it, and to my mind it is utterly insane to go about unarmed in the -position you are in." - -"Let us go," said Michel, mechanically taking the proffered dagger. "My -uncle says that time is important, and that they are waiting for us." - -"Waiting for _us_?" cried the bandit, leaping to his feet. "Waiting for -you, you mean! Damnation! I wish that yonder cross and this stone might -both sink into the ground! Young man, you may believe that I am an -atheist, and that my heart is hard; but if you think it is of -ice----Here, put your hand to it, and learn that desire and will have -their seat there as well as in the brain!" - -He seized Michel's hand roughly, and held it to his breast. It was -heaving with palpitations of such violence that one would have said that -it was on the point of bursting. - -But when they had quitted the ravine, and had left the _Destatore's -Cross_ behind them, the Piccinino began to hum, in a voice as sweet and -pure as the breath of the night, a ballad in the Sicilian dialect, of -which the refrain was: - -"Wine makes madness, love makes folly; my nectar is the blood of -cowards, my mistress is my rifle." - -After this outburst of bravado, addressed to himself as well as to the -ears of any Neapolitan police who might happen to be within hearing, the -Piccinino began to talk with Michel in a remarkably self-possessed and -tranquil strain. He discussed fine arts, literature, external politics, -and the news of the day, with as much freedom, courtesy, and refinement -as if they were in a salon or on a public promenade, and as if neither -of them had any momentous affair on hand, any exciting subject to -engross his thoughts. - -Michel soon realized that the Capuchin had in no wise exaggerated his -pupil's varied knowledge and great talents. In the matter of the dead -languages and classical subjects, Michel was quite unable to hold his -own, for he had had neither the means nor the leisure to go to college -before embracing an artistic career. The Piccinino, seeing that he was -familiar only with translations of the texts which he quoted with an -unfailing accuracy of memory, fell back upon history, modern literature, -Italian poetry, novels, and the stage. Although Michel had read very -extensively for one of his years, and although he had, as he himself put -it, polished and sharpened his mind, hastily, by assimilating everything -that came within his reach, he found that the peasant of Nicolosi, in -the intervals between his hazardous expeditions, in the solitude of his -shady garden, had made even better use of his time than he. It was -wonderful to see a man who could not walk in boots, or breathe in a -cravat, who had never been down to Catania ten times in his life, who -lived in retirement on his mountain, and had never seen the world or -come in contact with cultivated minds, but who had acquired by reading, -reasoning, or the divination of a keen intellect, full knowledge of the -modern world in its most trivial details, as he had acquired in the -cloister knowledge of the ancient world. No subject was unfamiliar to -him; he had learned all by himself several living languages, and he -ostentatiously talked with Michel in pure Tuscan, to show him that no -one at Rome could speak or pronounce it more correctly and melodiously. - -Michel took so much pleasure in listening and replying to him, that he -forgot for a moment the distrust which so complicated a mind and a -character so difficult to define naturally inspired in him. He made the -rest of the journey almost unconsciously, for they were then following -a smooth and safe road; and when they arrived at the park of Palmarosa, -he started with surprise at the thought of finding himself so soon in -Princess Agatha's presence. - -Thereupon all that had happened to him during and after the ball passed -through his memory like a series of strange dreams. A delicious emotion -stole over him, and he no longer felt very indignant or very much -horrified at the pretensions of his companion, as he reflected upon -those which he himself cherished. - - - - -XXVI - -AGATHA - - -Michel himself opened the little gate at which the path which they had -followed came to an end, and, having crossed the park diagonally, stood -at the foot of the staircase cut in the steep rock. The reader will not -have forgotten that the Palmarosa palace was built against a precipitous -slope, and formed three distinct buildings, which ascended the mountain -backward, so to speak; that the topmost floor, called the Casino, being -more isolated and cooler than the others, was occupied, according to the -invariable custom of the country, by the most distinguished person in -the family; that is to say, the mistress's apartments were on a level -with the summit of the cliff, which was transformed into a garden, of -small extent but most charming, at a great height, and on the opposite -side from the main façade of the lower floors. There the princess lived -in retirement, as in a luxurious hermitage, having no need to descend -the staircase of her palace, or to be seen by her servants, when she -chose to take a walk in the fresh air. - -Michel had previously seen this sanctuary, but very hurriedly, as we -know; and when he was sitting there with Magnani during the ball, he was -so excited and talking so earnestly that he had not observed its -arrangement and its surroundings. - -When he came out upon that terrace with the Piccinino, after scaling the -cliff, he obtained a better idea of its location, and observed that it -was so disposed that it was in fact a little fortress. The staircase cut -in the rock was much better adapted for a means of exit than of -entrance; it was so crowded between two walls of lava, and so steep, -that a woman's hand could easily have hurled back an insolent or -dangerous visitor. Moreover, there was on the last stair, with nothing -in the way of a landing between, a small gilt gate, unusually high and -narrow, hung between two slender marble columns as smooth as the masts -of a ship. On the outer side of both these columns was the sheer -precipice, with nothing to grasp except heavy iron scroll-work in the -style of the seventeenth century, fashioned to represent fantastic -dragons, bristling with spikes in every direction; a decoration that -served a double purpose, and was very difficult to surmount when one had -no purchase and a precipice under his feet. - -This fortification, if we may so describe it, was not without its -utility in a region where brigands from the mountain carried on their -operations in the valleys and the plain, even to the very gates of the -cities. Michel observed the defences with the satisfaction of a jealous -lover, but the Piccinino glanced at them with an air of contempt, and -even went so far as to say, while they were ascending the staircase, -that it was a sugar-plum citadel, which would be very effective at a -dessert. - -Michel rang the prescribed number of times, and the gate was immediately -opened. A veiled woman stood there, impatiently awaiting them. In the -darkness, she seized Michel's hand as he entered the garden, and the -young artist, recognizing the Princess Agatha by that gentle pressure, -trembled and lost his head, so that the Piccinino, who did not lose his, -quietly removed the key which Michel had placed in the lock as he rang -the bell. The bandit placed it in his belt after closing the gate, and -when Michel remembered his oversight, it was too late to repair it. They -had all three entered the princess's boudoir, and that was not the -moment to seek a quarrel with a man so entirely free from timidity as -the _Destatore's_ son. - -Agatha had been warned and as fully advised as possible of the character -and habits of the man with whom it was necessary for her to enter into -relations; she was too much of a Sicilian to have any serious prejudices -against the profession of bandit, and she was determined to make the -greatest pecuniary sacrifices in order to make certain of the -Piccinino's services. Nevertheless, she felt, at sight of him, a painful -emotion which she had difficulty in concealing from him; and when he -kissed her hand, gazing at her with his bold and mocking eyes, she was -conscious of a painful feeling of discomfort, and her face changed -perceptibly, although she was able to maintain an affable and courteous -demeanor. - -She knew that her first care must be to flatter the adventurer's secret -vanity, by showing him much consideration and calling him _captain_ to -his heart's content. So she did not fail to bestow that title upon him -as she invited him to sit at her right hand, while there was a more -familiar kindliness in her manner of waving Michel to a chair partly -behind her, near the back of her couch. Then, leaning toward him without -looking at him, and resting her elbow close to his shoulder, as if to be -prepared to call his attention by a movement apparently accidental, she -attempted to enter upon the business before them. - -But the Piccinino, noticing this manœuvre, and apparently considering -that he was too far away from her, left his chair and unceremoniously -seated himself beside her, on the sofa. - -At that moment the Marquis della Serra, who had probably been waiting in -an adjoining room for the conversation to begin, entered noiselessly, -saluted the bandit with silent courtesy, and sat down near Michel, after -shaking hands with him. Michel felt reassured by the presence of the man -whom he could not help looking upon as his rival. He had already begun -to wonder if he should not soon be tempted to throw the Piccinino out of -the window; and as such an exploit might well have some serious result, -he hoped that the bandit would be so far restrained by the marquis's -grave face and dignified bearing, that he would not dare to overstep the -limits of propriety. - -The Piccinino knew that he ran no risk of being betrayed by the Marquis -della Serra; indeed it pleased him to see that great nobleman offer him -pledges of the alliance about to be made with him, to which the marquis -must necessarily become a party. - -"So the Marquis della Serra, too, is my friend and my accomplice?" he -said to Agatha, in a reproachful tone. - -"Signor Carmelo," replied the marquis, "you doubtless know that I was a -near kinsman of the Prince of Castro-Reale, and that, consequently, I am -your near kinsman. I was very young when the _Destatore's_ true name was -discovered by the police of Catania, and perhaps you are aware that I -rendered the outlaw some important services at that time." - -"I am familiar with my father's story," replied the young bandit, "and -it is enough for me to know that the Marquis della Serra has transferred -to me the good-will with which he honored him." - -Gratified in his vanity, resolved not to play a ridiculous rôle, and -equally resolved to make everybody's will bend beneath his own, the -Piccinino desired to carry out his purpose with spirit and good taste. -So he speedily assumed a graceful and dignified attitude on the sofa, -and imparted to his insolent and lustful glance an expression of -benignant and almost respectful interest. - -The princess broke the ice, and set forth the business in hand -concisely, in almost the same words that Fra Angelo had used to induce -the young wolf to leave his den. The Piccinino listened to her -exposition, and his face did not betray the profound incredulity that -lay behind his apparent attention. - -But when the princess had finished, he coolly renewed his question as to -the will, and declared that, in case it had already been abstracted, the -kidnapping of Abbé Ninfo would seem to him a very tardy precaution, and -his own intervention a source of useless trouble and _expense_. - -Princess Agatha had not been horribly unhappy to no purpose. She had -learned to detect the wiles of concealed passions, and her skill in that -respect was not derived from her simple and straightforward mind, but -acquired at her own expense in her relations with natures directly -contrary to her own. So she very soon concluded that the _captain's_ -scruples were feigned, and that he had some secret motive which it was -most essential to discover. - -"Signor captain," she said, "if you have formed that opinion of my -position, we must stop here, for I have asked to see you much more for -the purpose of obtaining your advice than of telling you my ideas. -However, be good enough to listen to some details which it was not in -Fra Angelo's power to give you. - -"My uncle the cardinal has made a will in which he constitutes me his -sole heir; and it was only about ten days ago that, on his way from -Catania to his villa of Ficarazzi, where he now is, he made a détour in -order to pay me a visit which I did not expect. I found my uncle in the -same physical condition as when I saw him a little while before, at -Catania; that is to say, helpless, deaf, and unable to speak distinctly -enough to make himself understood without the assistance of Abbé Ninfo, -who knows or guesses his desires with rare sagacity--unless he -interprets or translates them to suit himself with unmeasured insolence! -However, on that occasion, Abbé Ninfo seemed to me to follow my uncle's -wishes in every respect; for the object of that visit was to show me the -will, and to inform me that the cardinal's affairs were in perfect -order." - -"Who showed you the will, signora?" said the Piccinino; "for his -eminence cannot move his arm or his hand at all, can he?" - -"Patience, captain, I will not omit any detail. Doctor Recuperati, the -cardinal's physician, had charge of the will, and I understood clearly -enough, from my uncle's glances and his excitement, that he did not wish -that document to leave his hands. Two or three times Abbé Ninfo came -forward to take it, on the pretext of handing it to me, and my uncle -glared at him with his terrible eyes and roared like a dying lion. The -doctor replaced the will in his portfolio and said to me: 'I beg that -your ladyship will not share his eminence's anxiety. However great the -esteem and confidence inspired by Abbé Ninfo, this paper having been -entrusted to my keeping, no other person than myself--not even the Pope -or the king--shall touch a document of so much importance to you.' -Doctor Recuperati is an honorable, incorruptible man, and as firm as a -rock in emergencies." - -"True, signora," said the bandit, "but he is stupid, and Abbé Ninfo is -not." - -"I am well aware that Abbé Ninfo is audacious enough to invent some -sort of a fable and lead the excellent doctor into a commonplace trap. -That is why I have requested you, captain, to remove that hateful -schemer from the scene for a time." - -"I will do it, if it is not too late; for I should not care to risk my -bones for nothing, and especially to endanger my reputation for talent, -for which I care more than for my life. Once more, signora, do you think -that it is not too late to resort to this expedient?" - -"If it is too late, captain, it has been so not more than two hours," -replied Agatha, observing him closely; "for, two hours ago, I paid a -visit to my uncle, and the doctor, at a sign from him, showed me the -paper once more, in Abbé Ninfo's presence." - -"And it was the same?" - -"Absolutely the same." - -"There was no codicil in Ninfo's favor?" - -"Not a word had been changed or added. The priest himself, who blandly -pretends to be interested in my behalf, and whose every sidelong glance -seems to say to me: 'You will have to pay me for my zeal,' insisted on -my re-reading the paper carefully." - -"And you did it?" - -"I did it." - -The Piccinino, in view of the princess's self-possession and -tranquillity, began to form a more exalted idea of her merit; for -hitherto he had seen in her nothing more than a seductive and charming -woman. - -"I am very well satisfied with these explanations," he said; "but, -before taking any steps, I must know something more. Are you quite sure, -signora, that within the last two hours Abbé Ninfo has not taken Doctor -Recuperati by the throat and extorted that paper from him?" - -"How can I know, captain? You alone can tell me, when you have consented -to begin your secret investigation. However, the doctor is a strong and -brave man, and his simplicity would not go so far as to allow himself to -be robbed by a weak, chicken-hearted creature like Abbé Ninfo." - -"But what would prevent Ninfo, who is a scoundrel of the first order, -and has relations with all the greatest villains in the country, from -hiring a _bravo_, who, for an _honorable_ reward, may have lain in wait -for the doctor and murdered him--or who is all ready to do it at this -moment?" - -The tone in which the Piccinino presented this suggestion caused the -three persons who were listening to him a painful shock. - -"Poor doctor!" cried the princess, turning pale; "can it be that such a -crime has been planned or executed? In heaven's name, explain yourself, -signor captain!" - -"Never fear, signora, that crime has not been committed; but it might -have been, for it was determined upon." - -"In that case, signor," said the princess, seizing both the bandit's -hands with a gesture of entreaty, "pray go at once. Save the life of an -honorable man, and make sure of the person of a vile knave, capable of -any crime." - -"And suppose the will falls into my hands during the battle?" said the -bandit, rising but not releasing the princess's hands, which he had -seized in a firm grasp as soon as they touched his. - -"The will, signor captain?" she replied, energetically. "Of what moment -is half of my fortune, when it is a question of saving victims from the -assassin's dagger? I care not what happens to the will. Seize the -monster who covets it. Ah! if I thought that I could satisfy his -resentment by giving it up to him, he might long ago have looked upon -himself as its undisturbed possessor!" - -"But suppose that I become its possessor?" said the adventurer, -fastening his lynx eyes on Agatha's; "that would not suit Ninfo, who -knows very well that his eminence is in no condition to make or even to -dictate another. But would you, signora, who have been imprudent enough -to tell me what I did not know, who have informed me to what a -ridiculous custodian a document of so great importance has been -entrusted--would you be perfectly at ease?" - -The princess had understood for a long time that the bandit would do -nothing unless he could see a possibility of obtaining possession of the -will to his own advantage. She had powerful reasons for being ready to -sacrifice it to him, and to hand over an enormous sum to him without -regret, when he should come to bargain with her for the restitution of -her proof of inheritance; for everybody knew, and the bandit, who seemed -to have studied the affair so carefully beforehand, probably was not -ignorant of the fact, that there was an earlier will in the hands of a -notary, which disinherited Agatha in favor of a distant relation. In a -paroxysm of hatred and resentment against his niece, the cardinal had -made that first will, and had made no secret of the fact. To be sure, -when he became so ill, and received from her marks of sincere respect -and affection, he had made different arrangements. But he had left the -previous will in existence, in case it should be his pleasure to destroy -the new one. When the wicked have a good impulse, they always leave a -door open for the return of their evil genius. - -Agatha had already made up her mind with respect to the Piccinino's -ambitions; but by the way in which he allowed them to appear, she -understood that there was a large admixture of vanity in his avarice, -and she had the fortunate inspiration to gratify both of the bandit's -passions at the same time. - -"Signor de Castro-Reale," she said, making an effort to pronounce a name -that she abhorred, and to confer it upon him as a title rightfully -belonging to the _Destatore's_ natural child, "the will would be so safe -in your hands, that I should be glad if I could place it there myself." - -Agatha had conquered. The bandit's head was completely turned, and -another passion, which was contending with greed in his heart, gained -the upper hand in a twinkling. He put both of the signora's trembling -hands to his lips and bestowed upon them a kiss so long and so -passionate that Michel and the marquis himself shuddered. Another hope -than that of wealth took possession of the Piccinino's brain. A violent -passion had sprung to life within him on the night of the ball, when he -saw her admired and coveted by so many men whom she did not even deign -to notice, himself included; for she believed that she had never seen -him before this interview, although he hoped that she was simply -pretending not to recognize his face. - -He had been incited especially by the apparent hopelessness of such a -conquest. Although somewhat disdainful and apparently chaste with the -women of his own station, the Piccinino had the appetites of a wild -beast; but vanity filled so large a place in all his instincts that he -rarely had an opportunity to satisfy them. This time the opportunity was -still uncertain, but the prospect was most intoxicating to his -enterprising, obstinate nature, fruitful in expedients, and enamored of -difficult exploits, reputed to be impossible. - -"Well, signora," he cried at last, in a chivalrous tone, "your -confidence in me proceeds from a noble heart, and I will not fail to -justify it. Have no fear for Doctor Recuperati: he is in no danger -whatsoever. It is quite true that Abbé Ninfo made a bargain this very -day with a certain man, who promised to murder him; but, not only does -the abbé propose to wait until the cardinal is on his death-bed, which -is not the case as yet, but the dagger which is to strike your friend -will not leave its sheath without my permission. There is no reason for -such great haste, therefore, and I can safely return to my mountain for -a few days. Ninfo is to come in person to advise us of the favorable -moment to bury the knife in the good doctor's ample waistcoat, and, when -that moment comes, instead of performing that agreeable duty, we will -seize the abbé's person, begging him to enjoy the mountain air with us -until it shall please your ladyship to restore his liberty." - -The princess, who had been perfectly self-possessed thus far, became -perturbed and replied in a quivering voice: - -"I thought, captain, that you knew of another circumstance which makes -us all very impatient to know that Abbé Ninfo is on the mountain. -Doctor Recuperati is not the only one of my friends who is in danger, -and I instructed Fra Angelo to tell you our other reasons for desiring -to be rid of his presence forthwith." - -The catlike Piccinino had not finished playing with the victim he -coveted. He pretended not to understand or not to remember that Michel -and his father were principally interested in the abbé's abduction. - -"I think," he said, "that your highness exaggerates the dangers of -Ninfo's presence about the cardinal. You must be aware that his eminence -has the most profound contempt for that underling; that he can hardly -endure his presence, although he realizes the advantage of having so -zealous and quick-witted an interpreter; in short, that the cardinal, -while he may need his services, will never allow him to meddle with his -affairs. Your highness knows that there is a small legacy for the poor -abbé in the will, and I fancy that you will not stoop to contest the -payment of it." - -"No, surely not!" replied the princess, surprised to find that the -bandit was so familiar with the contents of the will; "but it is not the -paltry fear that the abbé may obtain more or less money from the -cardinal that I have in my mind at this moment, I assure you. I have -already told you, captain, and Fra Angelo also must have told you, that -his brother and nephew are in great danger so long as Abbé Ninfo is in -a position to injure them with my uncle, the cardinal, and the -Neapolitan police." - -"Ah!" said the crafty Piccinino, putting his hand to his forehead, "I -had forgotten that, and yet it is a matter of importance to you, -princess, I agree. Indeed I have several things to tell you in that -connection which you do not know. But it is a very delicate subject," he -said, feigning hesitation, "and it would be difficult for me to explain -myself in the presence of the two gentlemen who honor me with their -attention." - -"You can say anything before the Marquis della Serra and Michelangelo -Lavoratori," said the princess, somewhat alarmed. - -"No, signora, I know my duty too well to do so, and my respect for you -is too great to allow me to forget the proprieties to that point. If -your highness is disposed to listen to me without witnesses, I will -inform you of what has been planned and determined upon. If not," he -added, pretending to be preparing to go, "I will go and wait at Nicolosi -until you deign to advise me of the day and hour when it will be -agreeable to you to listen to me." - -"At once, signor, at once," rejoined the princess hastily. "I am more -interested and more alarmed because the lives of my friends are -endangered for my sake than by any question of money. Come," she added, -rising, and resolutely placing her arm in the bandit's, "we will talk in -my flower-garden, and these gentlemen will await us here. Stay, stay, my -friends," she said to the marquis and Michel, who would have retired, -although the idea of that tête-à-tête caused them both an indefinable -dread; "I really need a breath of fresh air, and Signor de Castro-Reale -is kind enough to offer me his arm." - -Michel and the marquis, as soon as they were alone, looked at each other -as if they had had the same thought, and, hastening each to a window, -stood where they would not lose sight of the princess for an instant, -although they could not overhear a conversation from which she herself -seemed content to exclude them. - - - - -XXVII - -DIPLOMACY - - -"How did it happen, dear princess," said the bandit, in a careless tone, -as soon as he and Agatha were in the garden, arm-in-arm, "that you were -imprudent enough to try to make me speak of Michel in presence of a -cicisbeo so valuable to you as the Marquis della Serra? Your highness -forgets one thing: that if I know the secrets of Villa Ficarazzi, I -probably know those of Villa Palmarosa as well, since Abbé Ninfo -maintains an equally assiduous surveillance over both houses." - -"So Abbé Ninfo has seen you first, eh, captain?" rejoined the princess, -trying to assume an equally unembarrassed tone; "and he took you into -his confidence in order to obtain your services in his interest?" - -Agatha knew very well what to think in that respect. Certainly, if she -had not discovered that the abbé had already sought the Piccinino's -assistance in abducting, or perhaps murdering Michel, she would not have -thought it necessary to resort to him in order to procure the abduction -of the abbé. But she was careful not to allow her real motive to be -discovered. She desired that the bandit's self-love should be flattered -by what he might consider an instinctive impulse on her part. - -"From whatever source I derive my information," he replied, with a -smile, "I leave it to you to judge of its accuracy. The last time that -the cardinal came to visit your highness, there was a young man at the -gate of your park whose distinguished features and bearing were in -striking contrast with his costume, which was covered with dust and worn -by a long journey. What caprice induced the cardinal to examine that -young man and to insist upon questioning him? that is something which -Ninfo himself does not know and has commissioned me to find out, if -possible. One thing is certain: that the mania, which has beset the -cardinal for a long time, of inquiring the name and age of all the young -men of the lower classes whose faces attract his attention, has survived -the loss of activity and memory. It is as if he still retained a sort of -vague distrust, a relic of his exalted police functions; and his -imperative glance commands Abbé Ninfo to ask questions and report to -him. It is true that when the abbé showed him the written result of his -investigation, he seemed to take no interest in it; in like manner, -whenever the abbé annoys him with his impertinent requests or -insinuating questions, his eminence, after reading the first words, -closes his eyes angrily, to show that he doesn't wish to be fatigued any -more. Perhaps your highness did not know these details, which Doctor -Recuperati knows nothing of; for, during the few hours' sleep which the -excellent doctor is permitted to enjoy, the watchfulness of the devoted -servants with whom Your Highness has surrounded the cardinal does not -avail to prevent Ninfo from entering his room, waking him without -ceremony, and placing before him certain written sentences from which he -hopes for favorable results. When the cardinal is awakened in this way, -his pain and his anger make his mind momentarily more lucid than usual; -he reads, seems to understand, and tries to utter words of which an -occasional syllable is intelligible to his persecutor; but almost -immediately he collapses again, and the feeble flame of his life is so -much nearer extinction." - -"So that villain has ceased to be a mere flatterer and spy, to become my -unfortunate uncle's torturer and assassin?" cried the princess, -indignantly. "You must see, signor captain, that he must be delivered -from him at once, and that I need no other motive for desiring that he -be taken out of our way." - -"Pardon me, signora," rejoined the bandit, obstinately. "If I had not -informed you of these things, you would still have personal motives of -even greater weight, which you do not choose to tell me, but which I -have learned from Ninfo. I never enter into an affair without making -myself thoroughly acquainted with it; and it sometimes falls to my lot, -as you see, to question both parties. Permit me to continue my -disclosures, therefore, and I trust that they will lead to disclosures -on your part. - -"Abbé Ninfo did not examine very closely or ask many questions of the -individual at your highness's park gate. After a moment, seeing that the -cardinal continued somewhat agitated by the encounter, as if the young -man's face had aroused memories which he could not arrange and -place,--for his eminence often wears himself out, it seems, in such -painful mental toil,--the abbé retraced his steps and examined the -young man more carefully. The young man evidently had some reason for -being on his guard, for he deceived the abbé, who really took him for a -poor devil, and even gave him alms. But two days later, the abbé, -having, for the purpose of spying, disguised himself as a workman -employed in the preparations for your ball, soon discovered that his -poor devil was a brilliant artist, very much petted and favored by your -highness, and by no means in a position to accept alms at the gate of a -palace, since he is the son of a well-to-do artisan, Pier-Angelo -Lavoratori. - -"On the night succeeding this discovery, the abbé did not fail to place -before Monsignor Hieronymo a sheet of paper containing this information -in large letters. But by dint of trying to tighten the last remaining -chords of the instrument, the abbé broke them. The cardinal did not -understand. The names of Pier-Angelo and Michelangelo Lavoratori -conveyed no meaning to him. He muttered a violent oath because Ninfo -disturbed his slumber. And so," added the Piccinino, with malicious -significance, "the fears which your highness entertains, or pretends to -entertain, with respect to Pier-Angelo are entirely without foundation. -Although the cardinal long ago prosecuted that excellent man as a -conspirator, he has so completely forgotten him that even Ninfo has no -hope of reviving the memory of an affair of which he himself knows -nothing, and your protégé is in no danger from any denunciation by -him, at present." - -"I breathe again," said the princess, allowing the bandit to take her -hand in his, and even responding to his pressure, with generous -confidence. "Your words do me good, captain, and I bless you for having -confidence enough in me to reveal the truth to me. That was my whole -fear; but, since the cardinal remembers nothing and the abbé knows -nothing, I trust to your sagacity for the rest. Look you, captain, it -seems to me this is what we have to do. Do you find in your fertile -genius some method of obtaining possession of the will, and see that the -abbé is informed of it, so that there will be no further occasion for -him to persecute the worthy doctor; then keep the abbé's attention -diverted so that he will allow my unfortunate uncle to die in peace. -That will conclude by diplomatic methods an affair in which I have -feared that blood might be shed over paltry questions of money." - -"Your excellency goes very fast!" rejoined the Piccinino. "The abbé -cannot be put to sleep so easily with regard to another subject, which -it is impossible for me, despite my respect, my awe and my -embarrassment, to pass over in silence." - -"Speak, speak!" said Agatha, hastily. - -"Very well, since your highness authorizes me to do so, and does not -choose to understand a hint, I will tell you that Abbé Ninfo, while in -quest of political intrigues which he has not succeeded in discovering, -has put his hand upon a love affair which he has turned to his -advantage." - -"I do not understand," said the princess, with an air of sincerity that -startled the adventurer. - -"Can Ninfo have been gulling me," he thought, "or is this woman strong -enough to hold her own against me? We will see." - -"Signora," he said, in a honeyed tone, holding Agatha's hand against his -breast, "you will detest me, I suppose. However, I must serve you -against your will by telling you what I know. The abbé discovered that -Michelangelo was admitted every day at certain hours to the private -apartment in your Casino; that he did not eat with your servants or with -the other workmen, but with you, in secret; in a word, that, when he -took his siesta, he rested from his artistic labors in the arms of the -loveliest and most lovable of women." - -"It is false!" cried the princess; "it is an abominable falsehood. I -treated that young man with the distinction which I considered that I -owed to his talent and his ideas. He ate with his father in a room next -to mine, and took his siesta in my picture gallery. Abbé Ninfo did not -watch very closely, or he might have told you that Michel, being utterly -tired out, passed two or three nights under my roof." - -"He told me that, too," replied the Piccinino, who always chose to seem -to know beforehand what anyone told him. - -"Very well, Signor de Castro-Reale," said Agatha, in a firm voice, -looking him full in the face, "there is no doubt about the fact; but I -can swear upon my mother's soul and your mother's that that young man -never saw me until the day of the ball, when his father first introduced -him to me, in presence of two hundred mechanics. I talked to him during -the ball, on the main staircase, and the Marquis della Serra, who was -escorting me, complimented him, as I did myself, upon his paintings. -From that moment down to this very evening Michel had never seen me; ask -himself! You are not a man whom one can deceive, captain; use your -perspicacity, and I will trust it." - -The Piccinino quivered with pleasure at this concise declaration, made -with the assurance which truth alone can give, and he pressed Agatha's -hand against his breast with such force that she detected his sentiments -at last. She had a moment of terror, augmented by a ghastly -reminiscence. But she realized, in a flash, the full extent of the -dangers to which Michel had been exposed, and, postponing the matter of -her own safety to a more favorable season, she determined to deal -tenderly with Carmelo Tomabene's pride. - -"What motive could Abbé Ninfo have had in telling us that extraordinary -story?" he exclaimed. - -Agatha fancied that she could understand that the abbé had detected the -violent passion for herself by which she saw at last that the bandit was -possessed, and that he had endeavored to incite him to vengeance by his -tale of intrigue. "If that is so," she thought, "I will use the same -weapons, vile Ninfo, since you have been kind enough to furnish me with -them." - -"Listen, captain," she said; "you who know men so well and read so -readily the innermost folds of the conscience, must have discovered -that, in addition to all his manifest vices, the abbé is an insatiable -libertine? Do you suppose that he has confined himself to coveting my -inheritance? did he not let you see that it was not for money alone that -he would try to sell me a part of it if he should succeed in obtaining -possession of it?" - -"Yes!" cried the Piccinino, this time with the utmost sincerity; "I -thought that I could detect revolting desires and hopes on the part of -that monster of ugliness and lust. His affected incredulity concerning -the possibility of resistance by a woman, in such cases, is simply an -attempt to console himself when he thinks of his own physical and moral -ugliness. Yes, yes, I suspected it in spite of his hypocrisy. I will not -say that he loves you; that would be a profanation of the word love; but -he desires you, and he is jealous. Jealous, do I say! Ah! that word -again is too respectable! Jealousy is the passion of young hearts, and -his is decrepit. He suspects and detests everybody about you. In fact, -he has devised an infernal method of conquering you: judging rightly -that the desire to ransom your inheritance would not suffice, and -supposing that you loved this young artist, he has determined to use him -as a hostage and to compel you to purchase at his own price the life and -liberty of Michelangelo." - -"I ought to have expected that," replied the princess, affecting an air -of contemptuous tranquillity, although her whole body was bathed in cold -perspiration. "And so he selected you, captain, as his associate in an -undertaking worthy of those men who devote themselves to the most -hideous of all trades, the mere name of which is so degrading that no -true woman could bear to speak it in any tongue! It seems to me that -that mark of confidence on the part of the excellent Abbé Ninfo merits -a somewhat severe punishment at your hands!" - -Agatha had touched the right chord. The abbé's execrable projects, -which had previously moved the young bandit to nothing more than -satirical contempt, appeared to him now in the light of a personal -insult and kindled the thirst for vengeance in him. So true is it that -love, even in a wild, unbridled heart, arouses the sentiment of manly -dignity. - -"Severe punishment!" he said, in a deep voice, with clenched teeth; "he -shall have it!--But," he added, "have no further anxiety about anything, -signora; deign to place your fate in my hands unreservedly." - -"My fate is already in your hands, captain," replied Agatha; "my -fortune, my reputation, and the lives of my friends: think you that I -have an anxious air?" - -And she looked him through and through with a profound gaze, wherein she -was so happily inspired by the superior sagacity of the courageous -woman, that the Piccinino felt its influence and found that respect and -awe were mingled with his passion.--"Ah! you romantic woman," he -thought, "you have not outgrown the belief that a bandit chief must be a -stage hero or a chevalier of the Middle Ages! And here am I compelled to -play that part for your pleasure! Very well, I will play it. Nothing is -difficult to him who has read much and reasoned much.--Indeed, why -should I not be a hero in good earnest?" he said to himself, as he -walked silently beside that trembling woman whom he believed to be so -trustful and confiding, pressing her arm to his side with his own -trembling arm. "If I have not deigned to be one hitherto, it is simply -because the opportunity has never offered, and my essays at grandeur -would have been absurd. With such a woman as this, the game is well -worth the candle, and I cannot believe that it is difficult to be -sublime when the reward is destined to be so sweet. It is an undertaking -founded upon a selfish motive more elevated, but no less substantial or -less logical than others." - -Before assuming definitively the attitude of the princess's true knight, -he determined to do away with a lingering remnant of distrust, and he -was almost ingenuous in seeking to cure himself of it. - -"The only weakness of which I am conscious," he said, "is the dread of -playing a ridiculous rôle. Ninfo wished me to play an infamous one, he -shall be punished for it; but if your highness really loves that young -man--why, that young man also will have reason to regret having deceived -me!" - -"How am I to understand you?" rejoined Agatha, leading him into the ray -of light which the chandelier in her boudoir cast into the garden; "I do -really love Michelangelo, Pier-Angelo, and Fra Angelo, as devoted -friends and estimable men. To rescue them from the enmity of a villain I -would give all the money that anyone might ask. But look at me, captain, -and look at that young man musing yonder behind that window. Do you -consider that there can possibly exist a bond based upon impure passion -between two persons of our respective ages and conditions? You do not -know my character. Nobody has ever understood it. Will you be the first -one to do it justice? I wish it might be so, for I care very much for -your esteem, and I should think that I was wholly undeserving of it if I -entertained for that child sentiments which I feared to allow you to -detect." - -As she spoke, Agatha, who had dropped the bandit's arm, took it again to -return to the boudoir; and he was so grateful to her for that mark of -trustful friendship, of which she desired Michel and the marquis to be -witnesses, that he felt intoxicated and, as it were, beside himself with -joy. - - - - -XXVIII - -JEALOUSY - - -Neither the marquis nor Michel had heard a word of the conversation we -have reported. But the first was tranquil in his mind, the other was -not. The marquis, having assured himself that the princess was calm, had -no fear that she incurred any immediate danger with the brigand; whereas -Michel, not being familiar with her character, suffered keenly at the -bare thought that the Piccinino might, in his speech, have gone beyond -the bounds of respect. His suffering was intensified when he saw the -Piccinino's face as he returned to the boudoir. - -That face, ordinarily so indifferent and composed, was, as it were, -illuminated by confidence and joy. The little man seemed to have grown a -cubit taller, and his black eyes flashed flames which one would not have -believed could be kindled in a head so cool and calculating. - -No sooner had the princess, who was somewhat fatigued from having walked -a long while in a small space, seated herself on the couch, to which he -escorted her with the most dignified courtesy, than he fell, rather than -sat down upon a chair, on the other side of the small boudoir, but with -his face turned toward her as if he had stationed himself there to gaze -at her in the glare of the chandelier. In truth, the Piccinino, after -having enjoyed in the garden the sweetness of her voice, the flattering -significance of her words, and the softness of her hand, desired, in -order to put the finishing touch to the sensuous delight which he had -felt for the first time in his life, to gaze at her at his leisure, -without the labor of speech or of thought. He fell into a silent -meditation, more eloquent than Michel could have desired. He feasted his -bold eyes with the sight of that exquisite and fascinating woman, whom -it seemed to him that he already possessed, as with a treasure which he -had stolen, and which he took pleasure in gloating over, as it lay -gleaming before him. - -The young painter's distress was intensified by the fact that, under the -mysterious influence of that all-pervading passion, which but just born -was already spreading with the rapidity of a conflagration, the bandit -acquired a strange power of fascination. His exquisite beauty shone -forth like a star emerging from the vapors on the horizon. All that was -unusual in the outlines of his features and disquieting in their veiled -expression gave way to a subtle charm, an overpowering effusiveness, -albeit silent, and, as it were, overwhelmed by its own ardor. He was -lying back in his chair, but no longer affected indifference or -absent-mindedness. His hanging arms, his bent back, his eyes, glistening -and fascinated, and fixed intently on the princess, indicated that he -was shattered, as it were, by the explosion of a force unknown to -himself, and drowned in the anticipated joys of his triumph. Michel was -afraid of him for the first time. He would still have defied him -fearlessly in the ill-omened solitude of the _Destatore's Cross_; but in -that room, radiant with a strange ecstasy, he seemed too overpowering -for any woman to escape the fascination of that basilisk glance. - -However, Agatha did not seem to notice it, and whenever he turned his -eyes from the bandit to her, he found her apparently calm and -undisturbed, having no thought either of attacking or of defending -herself. - -"My friends," she said, after pausing a moment to take breath, "we can -say good-night and separate with our minds at rest. I place my full -confidence in this new friend whom Providence, acting through the wisdom -of Fra Angelo, has sent to us. You will share my confidence when I tell -you that he knew beforehand, and knew far better than ourselves, what we -had to fear and to hope." - -"It is a decidedly interesting affair, it is true," said the Piccinino, -making an effort to emerge from his dreaming; "and it is time that this -young man should know why I roared with laughter when he came to see me. -You will laugh too, I hope, Master Michelangelo, when you learn that you -came and entrusted your fate to a man who had been strenuously urged, an -hour earlier, to do you a bad turn; and if I were not calm and prudent -in such affairs, if I believed blindly the words of those who came to -consult me, while you were urging me in her highness's behalf to kidnap -Abbé Ninfo, I should have seized you and thrown you into my cellar, -securely bound and gagged, at the request of Abbé Ninfo. I see by your -manner that you would have resisted vigorously. Oh! I know that you are -brave, and I fancy that you are stronger than I. You have an uncle who -has kept his muscles in play so persistently for twenty years past, -breaking stone, that he cannot have lost any of the strength which -caused him to be called _Iron Arm_ when he plied another trade on the -mountain; but, when one is engaged in a matter of great political -moment, one takes precautions, and I had but to touch a little bell to -have my house surrounded by determined men, who would not have afforded -you even the pleasure of resistance." - -Having spoken thus, his eyes fixed upon Michel with a playful -expression, the Piccinino turned again to the princess. She had -concealed her pallor behind her fan, and when the brigand met her eyes, -they were armed with a tranquil expression which dispelled the last -traces of his ironical humor. The secret pleasure which it always -afforded him to frighten those who ventured into his presence -disappeared before that womanly glance, which seemed to say to him: "You -shall not do it, I forbid you." - -So that he at once assumed an expression of hearty good-will, and said -to Michel: - -"You see, my young friend, that I had my reasons for insisting upon an -explanation of the affair, and for not being in too much of a hurry. Now -that I am convinced that honor and truth are on one side, infamy and -falsehood on the other, my choice is made, and you can sleep with both -eyes shut. I propose to go with you to Catania," he added, addressing -Michel in an undertone, "where I must arrange the worthy abbé's -departure for to-morrow. But I absolutely require two hours' rest. Can -you promise me a corner in your house where I can sleep soundly for two -hours without danger of being seen? For my features are hardly known in -the city, and I do not wish them to become known there until it is -necessary. Tell me, can I enter your house without fear of inquisitive -eyes, especially women's eyes?" - -"I have a young sister who is moderately inquisitive," replied Michel -smiling; "but she will be in bed at this time of night. Trust me, as I -trusted you; I will give you my own bed, and sit up in the room if you -wish." - -"I accept," said the bandit, who, while talking with Michel, was trying -to overhear the words, unimportant in themselves, which the princess was -exchanging with the marquis, in order not to embarrass the conversation -between the two young men. Michel observed that, notwithstanding the -Piccinino's assertion that he could not do two things at once, he did -not lose a gesture, a word, or a movement of Agatha's, while he was -talking with him. - -When he was assured of the two hours' absolute rest which was, he said, -indispensable to put him in a condition to act intelligently, the -Piccinino rose and prepared to retire. But the coquettish moderation -with which he arranged his cloak about his flexible figure, the languid -grace of his preoccupied air during that momentous operation, and the -imperceptible quivering of his silky black moustache, showed plainly -enough that he went away with regret, and after the manner of a man who -is striving to dispel the mists of drunkenness in order to return to -work. - -"You do not wish to be seen?" said Agatha; "then step into the marquis's -carriage with Michel. He will drive you to the outskirts of the city, -and you can slip through the narrow streets." - -"Many thanks, signora!" replied the bandit. "I have no desire to take -your servants and the signor marquis's into my confidence. To-morrow -morning Abbé Ninfo, whose discernment exceeds their discretion, would -learn that a mountaineer came out of your apartments whom nobody had -seen go in; and the excellent abbé, thinking that that performance -savored somewhat of the _bravo_, would insult me by withdrawing the -confidence with which he honors me. I must be his fidus Achates and his -very good friend for twelve hours more. I will go out with Michel as I -came." - -"And when shall I see you again?" said Agatha, courageously offering him -her hand, despite the lustful flame in his unshrinking eyes. - -"You will not see me again," he replied, putting one knee to the floor -and kissing her hand with a sort of frenzy in marked contrast to the -humility of his attitude, "until your orders are carried out. I cannot -fix the day and hour, but I will answer for the safety of all your -friends--even the stout doctor--with my life! I know the way to your -Casino. When I ring _one_, _three_ and _seven_ at the gate of your -flower-garden, will your ladyship deign to admit me to your presence?" - -"You can rely upon it, captain," she replied, giving no sign of the -alarm caused her by that request. - -The Marquis della Serra did not fail to take his leave at the same time -that the two young men went from the boudoir into the garden. His -respect for the princess was so punctilious that he would not for the -world have assumed the attitude of a favored lover. But he descended the -staircase of the palace slowly, still disturbed in mind, and ready to go -up again at the slightest noise. - -On leaving the garden, the Piccinino locked the gate himself and handed -the key to Michel, reproaching him for his carelessness. - -"Except for me," he said, "this all-important key--this key that cannot -be replaced--would have been left in the lock." - -A moment's self-possession, before entering the boudoir, had sufficed -for the bandit to take the impression of the key on a lump of wax which -he always carried with him for emergencies. - -They had no sooner started down the staircase cut in the rock than -Agatha's maid, who was entirely devoted to her, came to her and said: - -"The young man whom your highness sent for is waiting in the picture -gallery." - -Agatha put her finger to her lips to warn the maid to speak lower on -such occasions, and went down to the floor below, where Magnani had been -waiting more than half an hour. - -Poor Magnani had been more dead than alive since he received the -princess's mysterious message. Being very different from the Piccinino, -he was so far from entertaining the slightest hope that he imagined the -worst that could possibly happen. "I must have made a terrible mistake," -he said to himself, "in confiding to Michel the secret of my folly. He -probably talked about it with his sister, and Mila has seen the -princess, who treats her like a spoiled child. The chatter of that girl, -who cannot understand the gravity of such a disclosure, terrified and -disgusted the princess. But why not banish me without any explanation? -What can she say to me that will not be horribly painful and uselessly -cruel?" - -That hour of suspense seemed to him a century. He was cold; he felt as -if he should die, when the secret door of the gallery opened -noiselessly, and he saw Agatha approaching him, pale with the excitement -through which she had just passed, and diaphanous in her white lace -cape. The enormous gallery was lighted only by a single glass lamp. It -seemed to him that the princess did not walk, but that she glided toward -him, after the manner of a ghost. - -She approached without hesitation, and offered him her hand as if he -were an intimate friend. And, as he hesitated to give her his, thinking -that he was dreaming, fearing that he might misunderstand the meaning of -that gesture, she said to him in a soft but firm voice: - -"Give me your hand, my child, and tell me if you still feel for me the -friendship which you once expressed when you thought that you owed me -some gratitude for your mother's cure. Do you remember? I have never -forgotten that generous outburst of your heart!" - -Magnani could not reply. He dared not put Agatha's hand to his lips. He -pressed it gently in his as he bent over it. She felt that he was -trembling. - -"You are very timid," she said; "I hope that if you are afraid of me -there is no touch of distrust in your fear. I must speak to you quickly; -do you answer in the same way. Are you disposed to do me a very great -favor, at the risk of your life? I ask it in your mother's name!" - -Magnani fell on his knees. Only with his eyes, which were streaming with -tears, could he testify his enthusiasm and his devotion. Agatha -understood him. - -"You must return to Catania," she said; "run until you overtake two men -who have just left here and who will not have five minutes' start of -you. One is Michelangelo Lavoratori; you can readily recognize him in -the moonlight. The other is a mountaineer wrapped in his cloak. Follow -them without seeming to watch them, but do not lose sight of them. At -the least suspicious gesture on that man's part, you will hurl yourself -upon him and throw him down. You are strong," she added, touching the -young artisan's robust arm; "but he is active and cunning. Be on your -guard! See, here is a dagger; use it only in self-defence. That man is -either my enemy or my preserver, I do not know which. Spare his life, if -possible. Fly with Michel, if you can thereby avoid a bloody battle. You -live in the same house with Michel, do you not?" - -"Almost, signora." - -"Be where you can assist him at the first alarm. Do not go to bed; pass -the night as near his room as you can. The man I speak of will go away -before daylight; do not leave your house and do not let Michel go away -unless you go together, always together, do you understand? And be ready -until I give different orders. To-morrow I will explain everything to -you; I will see you. Rely upon me, from this day forth, as a second -mother. Come, my child, follow me; I will put you on the track of Michel -and his companion." - -She took him by the arm and hastily led him up to the Casino, which they -passed through without a word. She opened the garden gate, and pointing -to the staircase in the rock, "Go," she said, "celerity, caution, and -your noble heart, the heart of a man of the people, for your friend's -buckler!" - -Magnani descended the stairs as swiftly and noiselessly as an arrow. He -wasted no time in reflection, nor did he exhaust the force of his -determination by worrying. He did not even ask himself the question -whether Michel was his fortunate rival, and whether he should not be -tempted to run him through the heart. Impelled by the magic force which -Agatha's hand and breath had given him, he was all ready to lay down his -life for that favored child of fortune, and he felt no more regret than -hesitation at the thought of sacrificing himself thus. Nay, more, he was -happy and proud to obey the woman he loved, and her words rang in his -heart like a voice from Heaven. - -He was soon in the fields and discovered two men walking along a path. -He recognized Michel; he recognized the mountaineer's cloak. He took -pains not to show himself; but he measured with a glance the distance -and the obstacles that he would have to pass over in case of an alarm. -The mountaineer stopped for a moment, talking earnestly. Magnani, with a -determined effort of strength and activity, which under other -circumstances would have been beyond the power of man, reached a point -sufficiently near to overhear him, and found that he was talking of love -and poetry. - -He allowed them to gain on him again, and, gliding through a narrow path -among the blocks of lava that lay in great heaps at the entrance to the -city, he arrived before them in the yard of the adjoining houses -occupied by his family and Michel's. He watched his young friend and his -suspicious guest enter the house. Then Magnani made the circuit of the -houses, looking for a place where he could pass the night, unseen, but -within hearing of the slightest noise, the slightest commotion inside. - - - - -XXIX - -APPARITIONS - - -Pier-Angelo had been notified by the princess and by a message from the -monk of Mal Passo, that he must not be alarmed by his son's absence, and -that, in case of danger, the young man would pass the night either at -the convent with his uncle, or in the Marquis della Serra's palace. The -princess would have preferred the latter course; but the necessity of -showing absolute confidence in the brigand, concerning whose -sensitiveness Fra Angelo had fully informed her, had triumphed over her -anxiety. With great foresight she had sent for Magnani, and we have seen -that she was justified in her reliance upon that excellent young man. - -Pier-Angelo, naturally optimistic, and reassured by the message he had -received, had gone to bed and was making up for the fatigue of the ball -like a man who knows how to use time to advantage. Mila had also gone to -her room; but she was not asleep. She had passed the afternoon with the -princess, and, upon being questioned by her concerning her friends, had -spoken of Antonio Magnani among others with a warmth which would have -betrayed the secret of her heart, even if Agatha had not been watchful -and penetrating. It was the favorable account the girl had given of her -young neighbor which had finally led the princess to call upon him for -aid in the embarrassment of her situation. She had said to herself that -Magnani might well become Mila's husband some day, and that nothing -could be more natural, therefore, than that he should have a share in -shaping Michelangelo's destiny. She had entrusted Mila with the message -to Magnani to come to her that night, and poor Magnani, on receiving the -message, had nearly fainted. Should we not rather say _poor Mila_? But -Mila had attributed the young man's confusion to his timidity alone. -Agatha was the last person whom she would have suspected of being her -rival, not that she was not in her eyes the loveliest of women, but -because, in a pure heart, there is no room for jealousy of the persons -whom one loves. On the contrary, the true-hearted child was happy in the -mark of esteem and confidence with which her dear Agatha had honored -Magnani. She was proud of it for his sake, and would have liked to be -able to carry him such messages every day. - -But the princess had thought that she ought not to conceal from Mila the -fact that Michel was necessarily involved in an adventure in which he -might incur some danger, and that Magnani would assist him to defend -himself. - -So Mila was anxious; she had said nothing to her father of her fears; -but she had been out more than ten times on the road to the villa, -listening to noises in the distance, watching all the passers-by, and -returning to the house each time more distressed and alarmed than -before. At last, when eleven o'clock struck, she dared not go out again, -but remained in her room, sometimes at the window, where she tired her -eyes staring to no purpose, sometimes beside her bed, where she fell on -her knees, depressed beyond measure, with her face buried in the pillow. -At times her pulses throbbed so violently that she mistook the throbbing -for a noise by her side. Then she would start and raise her head, and, -hearing nothing, try to pray. - -At last, about midnight, she thought that she heard distinctly a faint -sound of irregular footsteps in the yard. She looked and fancied that -she saw a shadow glide along the wall and disappear in the darkness. It -was Magnani; but she could not distinguish any well-defined form, and -was not sure that she had not been deceived by her own imagination. - -A few moments later two men stole noiselessly up the outside staircase -of the house. Mila had begun to pray again, and did not hear them until -they were under her window. She ran to the window, and seeing only the -tops of their heads, as she was directly above them, she had no doubt -that they were her brother and Magnani returning together. She hastily -rearranged her lovely hair, which had fallen over her shoulders, and -hurried to meet them. But as she passed into Michel's chamber, the outer -door of that chamber opened, and she found herself face to face with -Michel and a man who was fully a head shorter than Antonio Magnani. - -The Piccinino, whose features were hidden by the hood of his cloak, -hastily drew back and closed the door, saying: "You probably did not -expect your mistress to-night, Michel. Under any other circumstances it -would give me great pleasure to see her, for she seemed to be as -beautiful as the Madonna; but at this moment you will oblige me greatly -if you can send her away without letting her see me." - -"Have no fear," replied the young artist. "This woman is my sister, and -I will send her back to her own room. Stay here a moment, behind the -door." - -"Mila," he said, entering the room again and holding the door between -his companion and himself, "you seem to have taken a mania for sitting -up late like a night-bird. Go back to your own room, my dear love, I am -not alone. One of father's apprentices has asked me to take him in, and -I am going to share my bed with him. You must see that you shouldn't -stay here another moment, unless you want to be seen with your hair and -dress in disorder." - -"I will go," said Mila; "but tell me first, Michel, whether Magnani came -home with you?" - -"What does it matter to you?" rejoined Michel, testily. Mila heaved a -profound sigh, and returned to her room, where she threw herself on her -bed, quite disheartened, but determined to pretend to be asleep, and to -listen to everything that was said in the adjoining room. Perhaps -something had happened to Magnani; her brother's abrupt manner seemed to -her of evil augury. - -As soon as the Piccinino found himself alone with Michel, he asked him -to throw the bolts and to place a mattress from the bed against the thin -warped door of the adjoining room, through which the light could be seen -and their voices heard. When that was done, he asked him to make sure -that his father was asleep, or, if he were still awake, to wish him -good-night, so that the old man might not take it into his head to come -upstairs. As he spoke, the bandit unceremoniously threw himself on -Michel's bed, having first removed his rich doublet, and, covering his -head with his cloak, seemed determined not to lose an instant in going -to sleep. - -Michel went downstairs as he was requested; but he was no sooner on the -staircase than the young outlaw sprang to his feet as swiftly and -lightly as a bird, threw the mattress aside, drew the bolt, and -approached Mila's bed, beside which her little lamp was still burning. - -Mila heard him come in; but she supposed that Michel had come to make -sure that she was in bed. It did not occur to her that another could -have the audacity to enter her room thus, and, like a child who is -afraid of being scolded, she closed her eyes and lay perfectly still. - -The Piccinino had never seen a beautiful woman without being disturbed -and restless until he had examined her carefully, in order that he might -cease to think of her if her beauty was imperfect, or cast his net over -her if her style of beauty succeeded in inflaming his disdainful heart, -a strange compound of love and indolence, energy and torpor. Few men of -twenty-five have lived so chaste and self-restrained a life as the -bandit of Ætna; but few imaginations are so fertile as his was in -dreams of pleasure and in boundless appetites. It seemed that he was -always seeking to kindle his passions in order to test their intensity, -but that he abstained from gratifying them most of the time, fearing -lest his enjoyment might fall short of the idea he had conceived of it. -Certain it is that on the few occasions on which he had given way, he -had been profoundly depressed afterwards, and had reproached himself for -having expended so much exertion for a pleasure so soon exhausted. - -Perhaps he had other reasons for wishing to see Michel's sister's -features without Michel's knowledge. However that may be, he gazed at -her attentively for a moment, and, enraptured by her beauty, her -youthful grace, and her air of innocence, he asked himself whether he -would not do better to love that fascinating child rather than a woman -older than himself and doubtless more difficult to persuade. - -At that moment Mila, weary of feigning sleep, and more eager for news of -Magnani than afraid of her brother's reproaches, opened her eyes and saw -the stranger leaning over her. She saw his eyes gleaming under his hood, -and, terror-stricken, she was on the point of crying out, when he put -his hand over her mouth. - -"Child," he said in a low voice, "if you say a word, you are lost. Hush, -and I will go away. Come, come, my lovely angel," he added, in a -caressing tone, "don't be afraid of the friend of your family; before -long perhaps you will thank him for having disturbed your sleep." - -And, being unable to resist an insane impulse of coquetry, of a sort -that often caused him suddenly to forget his resolutions and his -cautious instincts, he threw back his hood and disclosed his beautiful -features, made still more beautiful by a sweet and winning smile. The -innocent Mila thought that she had had a vision. The diamonds that -sparkled on the young man's breast so heightened the general effect that -she did not know whether it was an angel or a prince in disguise who -stood before her. Bewildered, hesitating, she smiled back at him, half -fascinated, half terrified. Thereupon he lifted a heavy tress of her -black hair, which had fallen over her shoulders, and put it to his lips. -Fear gained the upper hand. Again Mila attempted to cry out. The -stranger flashed such a terrible glance at her that her voice failed -her. He put out the lamp, returned to Michel's room, bolted the door, -and replaced the mattress; then, throwing himself on the bed and -concealing his face, he seemed to be sleeping soundly when Michel -returned. All this had happened in less time than it has required to -tell it. - -But, for the first time in his life, perhaps, the Piccinino could not -compel sleep to deaden the activity of his thoughts. His imagination was -an unbroken steed, with whom he had fought so many battles that he -believed that he had placed a curb in his mouth forever. But the curb -was broken, and that powerful will, exhausted in trivial combats, no -longer sufficed to control fierce instincts too long held in check. He -was between two violent temptations, which appeared to him in the shape -of two women almost equally desirable, and whom the detestable Ninfo had -practically offered to share with him. Michel was the hostage whom he -had in his hands, and for whose ransom he could demand and perhaps -obtain everything. - -To be sure, he no longer believed in Agatha's passion for the young -artist; but he had seen her utter indifference as to the matter of -money, when it was a question of saving her friends from perils that -threatened them. Was she so disinterested as to think that she ought to -sacrifice something more than her fortune to ransom her protégé? -Probably not; so that the bandit must rely upon his individual powers of -seduction, and he saw in Michel only a means of gaining access to her so -that he might exert those powers. - -As for the young sister, it seemed to him an easier matter to overcome -so innocent a child, not only because of the more direct affection which -she undoubtedly entertained for her brother, but also because of her -inexperience and the purity of her imagination, which he had tested with -a glance. - -In respect to youthful charm and mere physical beauty, Mila far -surpassed Agatha; but Agatha was a princess, and the instinct of vanity -was strong in the bastard of Castro-Reale. She was supposed never to -have had a lover, she seemed prudent and strong. She had had twenty -years or more to practise self-defence and to repel the assaults of the -passions she had inspired; for she was at least thirty years old, and in -the fiery climate of Sicily, where plants mature in less time than they -require in France to put forth buds, a girl of ten is almost a woman. - -It was, therefore, a most glorious conquest to dream about, and for that -reason most intoxicating. But there was also the fear of failure, and -Carmelo thought that in that case he should die of shame and rage. He -had never known pain; it was a word almost devoid of meaning to him -until that moment. He was beginning to discover that one can suffer for -other causes than anger and ennui. As he lay awake, he watched Michel -without his knowledge. He saw him sit down at his table and take his -head in his hands, in an attitude of the most complete discouragement. - -Michel was profoundly depressed. All his dreams had vanished like smoke. -His situation seemed to him sufficiently elucidated by the conversation -he had had with the bandit as they returned from the villa. To test him, -the Piccinino had repeated Abbé Ninfo's calumnies, pretending to -believe them and generously to take Michel's part. The young painter's -noble and upright heart had rebelled against a suspicion which assailed -the princess's dignity; his denials and his manner of describing his -first interview with her in the ball-room had corresponded so closely -with the way in which the princess herself had represented the facts to -the bandit, that the latter, after a more searching and subtle -examination than that of an inquisitor, had ended by becoming convinced -that there was nothing criminal in the princess's relations with the -artist. - -Thereupon, seeing that there was a background of unhappiness to Michel's -modesty and loyalty, the Piccinino had concluded that, if the princess -did not love him, he wished that she might, and that he had fallen in -love with her at first sight. He remembered Michel's abrupt and ironical -reply to himself during the ball, and he took a cruel delight in making -him feel that he could not hope to be loved by such a woman. It even -occurred to him to admit that he questioned him only to test the -refinement of his nature, and he ended by repeating word for word what -Agatha had said when she pointed to Michel at the window of the boudoir: -"Look at that young man and tell me if there can possibly be any -wrongful relations between two persons of our respective ages and -conditions." Then he added, pressing Michel's hand as they entered the -city: "My child, I am pleased with you; for any other man, at your age, -would have seized the opportunity to pose as the hero of a mysterious -adventure with that adorable woman. Now I see that you are already a -serious-minded man, and I can say to you in confidence that she has made -an ineffaceable impression on me, and that I shall be like a stone in -the crater of the volcano until I have seen her again." - -The tone in which the Piccinino proclaimed, so to speak, this -confession, combined with the remembrance of his enraptured face and his -triumphant attitude when he returned to the boudoir with Agatha, alarmed -Michel beyond expression. He had not felt obliged in conscience to tell -him what illusions he had cherished, what he had thought that he could -read in certain glances, still less what had taken place--and he did not -believe that it was altogether a dream--in the grotto of the naiad. -Indeed, he would have considered it his bounden duty to deny it with all -his strength if his rival could have suspected it. But all his phantoms -of pride and happiness took flight before Agatha's cold words, repeated -in a dry, cutting tone by the Piccinino. But one point remained obscure -in his situation. That was the peculiarly warm affection of the princess -for his father and sister. But how could he attribute the honor of that -affection to himself? It was based upon an ancient political connection -or upon gratitude for some service rendered by Pier-Angelo. -Pier-Angelo's son was subjected to the dangers of that connection at the -same time that he shared its benefits. When that debt of the heart was -paid, it was impossible that Michel could arouse any further interest in -the generous patroness of his family. The mysteries that had fascinated -him fell back into the domain of reality, and instead of the pleasant -labor of combating charming illusions, he had the mortification of -feeling that he had combated them unsuccessfully and the pain of being -unable to revive them. - -"Why should I be jealous of the insolent joy that shone in the eyes of -that bandit?" he said to himself in dire distress. "Have I any business -even to consider the question whether his strange manner caused the -princess pleasurable or painful emotion? What have she and I in common? -What am I to her? Pier-Angelo's son! And he, this bold-faced adventurer, -is her mainstay and her savior. He will soon have a claim upon her -gratitude--perhaps upon her esteem and affection; for it rests only with -him to acquire them. He loves her, and if he is not mad he will find -some way or other to make her love him. But how can I earn any title to -her distinction? Of what consequence are the embryotic products of my -art in comparison with the energetic assistance which she demands? It -seems to me that she looks upon me as a child, since, instead of calling -me to her aid, and entrusting to me some mission of importance to her -interests and her personal safety, she does not even consider me capable -of defending my own life. She considers me so weak or so timid that in -this hour of our common danger she has sought the intervention of a -stranger--an ally more dangerous than useful, it may be. O my God! how -far she is from looking upon me as a man! Why did she not simply say to -me: 'Your father and I are threatened by an enemy. Drop your brushes, -take a dagger; defend your father or avenge me!' Fra Angelo reproached -me for my indifference; but, instead of correcting it, they actually -treat me like a child whom they pity, and whose life they save without -troubling themselves about his heart!" - -While he abandoned himself to these melancholy reflections, Michelangelo -felt as if his heart were breaking, and finding in front of him the -sprig of cyclamen, which was still living in its Venetian glass, he let -a scalding tear fall upon it. - - - - -XXX - -THE FALSE MONK - - -Mila had been so astonished and alarmed by the appearance of the -Piccinino that she could not possibly sleep. The fact that alarmed her -most was that she no longer heard conversation in the adjoining room, -and that she could not make sure that her brother was there. She was -unwilling to go to bed, and, after a few moments, as her reflections -served only to increase her terror, she rose and opened another door of -her chamber which opened on an outer gallery, or rather a dilapidated -corridor sheltered by an awning, and ending in a staircase which served -as a means of communication between her room and those of the other -occupants of the house. Mila had never opened that door at night, but -this time she went out on the gallery, having fully determined to seek -refuge with her father and to sit in his chamber until daylight. - -But she had barely taken three steps when a new cause of alarm brought -her to a standstill. A man was leaning against the wall of the gallery -as motionless as a robber on the watch. - -She was about to fly, when a voice said in a whisper: "Is that you, -Mila?" And as the man walked toward her she recognized Magnani. - -"Don't be afraid," he said. "I am watching here by order of a person who -is dear to you. Doubtless you know why, as you transmitted her message -to me?" - -"I know that my brother has been in danger this evening," replied the -girl; "but it seems that you are not the only one whom our dear princess -has stationed beside him to defend him. There is another young man in -his room, whom I do not know." - -"I know it, Mila; but that young man is the very one who is under -suspicion; and I must stand guard as near as possible to the place where -he is sleeping, until he has left the house." - -"But you are a long way from him!" exclaimed Mila, in dismay, "and my -brother might be murdered and you not hear it from here." - -"But what am I to do?" replied Magnani. "I could not get any nearer to -his room. He took pains to lock the door at the foot of the other -staircase. So I am here; and I have my eyes and ears open, I assure -you!" - -"I will watch, too," said the girl, resolutely, "and you can sit up with -me, Magnani. Come into my room. Even though people should speak ill of -us, if we were seen, even if my father and brother should scold me -severely, it makes no difference to me! I am only afraid of the man who -is locked into Michel's room with him, or alone--for they put a mattress -against my door, and I cannot find out whether Michel is really there. I -am afraid for Michel; I am afraid for myself." - -And she told how the bandit had entered her room when Michel was -apparently not there to oppose his entrance. - -Magnani, being unable to explain such an extraordinary occurrence, -accepted Mila's suggestion without hesitation. He entered her room, -leaving the door of the gallery ajar, in order that he might retire -unseen if need were, but all ready to burst in Michel's door at the -slightest alarming noise. - -When he had listened coolly and cautiously, with his eye and ear glued -to the partition, he said to Mila, beckoning her to the side of the room -farthest from the door, and speaking very low: - -"Set your mind at rest; they are not so well barricaded that I could not -see Michel sitting at his table, apparently deep in meditation. I could -not make out the other one, but I promise you that they cannot make a -movement which I shall not hear, and that their bolt will not hold a -second against my fist. I am armed; so don't be afraid any more, my dear -Mila." - -"No, no, I am not afraid," she said. "Since you have been here, I have -recovered the use of my mind. Before you came, I was like a madwoman; I -neither saw nor heard anything except through a veil. Have you had no -accident, run no risk yourself to-night, Magnani?" - -"None at all; but what are you looking for, Mila? You will make a noise -fumbling in that drawer." - -"No, no," she said. "I am getting a weapon too, for I feel as brave as a -lion with you." - -And she held up an ebony spindle, carved and mounted in silver, the -stout, sharp point of which might at need serve the purpose of a -stiletto. - -"When our dear princess gave me this to-day," she said, "she had no -suspicion that I might perhaps use it to defend my brother. But tell me, -Magnani, how did the princess receive you, and how did she explain these -mysteries which are happening all about us, and which I do not -understand at all? We can safely talk here in this doorway; no one will -hear us and it will help to make the time seem shorter and less dull." - -She sat down on the step outside the door that opened on the gallery. -Magnani sat beside her, ready to fly if any inquisitive individual -should approach, ready to show himself if Michel's guest made any sign -of hostility. They talked in very low tones, and their whispered words -expired in the open air, nor did either of the two become so engrossed -as to fail to pause and listen intently at the slightest sound. - -When Magnani had told Mila what little he knew, she lost herself in vain -conjectures as to the identity of that handsome young man, whose -expression was at once sweet and fear-inspiring, who styled himself, -when speaking with her, the friend of the family, and of whom the -princess had said to Magnani: "He is either our savior or our -enemy."--And, when Magnani urged her not to try to fathom a secret which -the princess and her family apparently deemed it necessary to conceal -from her, she replied: "Do not think that I am consumed by silly -childish curiosity! No, I have not that wretched failing. But I have -been afraid all day long, and yet I am not timid, either. Something -incomprehensible is going on about me, and I, too, believe that I am -threatened by enemies whom I do not know. I do not dare to mention the -subject to my father or to the princess; I am afraid that if they -undertake to look out for me, too, they will neglect a part of the -precautions demanded by their own safety. But I must think about -defending myself; to-morrow, when you go to your work and my father and -brother have gone out, I shall begin to tremble again for them, for you -and for my self." - -"I shall not go to work to-morrow, Mila," said Magnani. "The princess -ordered me not to leave your brother, whether he remains at home or goes -out. She did not mention you, which fact makes me almost certain that -you are not included in the secret persecution at which she has taken -fright. But, whatever happens, I shall not stir from here, without -having made sure that no one can come and frighten you." - -"Listen," she said, "I am going to tell you what happened to me to-day. -You know that we often have in our yard some of those begging brothers, -who annoy everybody, even the poor people, and whom you cannot get rid -of without giving them something. Well, one of them came just after -Michel and my father had left the house, and I never saw a monk so -persistent, and so bold, and so inquisitive. Just fancy that, when he -saw me working at my window, he took up his station just below it, and -there he stood, staring at me with a gaze that embarrassed me, although -I tried not to meet his eyes. I tossed him some bread in order to get -rid of him. He didn't condescend to pick it up. 'Young woman,' he said, -'that is not the way people give alms to a brother of my order. They -take the trouble to go downstairs to him and to commend themselves to -his prayers, instead of tossing him a crust as if he were a dog. You are -not a pious maid, and your parents have brought you up badly. I am sure -that you are not a native?' - -"I made the mistake of answering him. He had put me in a bad humor with -his sermon, and he was so ugly, so dirty, so insolent, that I could not -help exhibiting my disgust. It seemed to me that I recognized him as a -man I had seen in the morning at the Palmarosa palace. My brother was -disturbed by his face at that time, and questioned my uncle Fra Angelo -about him. He sent us away in haste, promising to find out who he was, -for he did not recognize him as a Capuchin, and my father said that he -resembled a certain Abbé Ninfo, who bears us a grudge, apparently. -However, either it was not the same man, or else he had changed his -disguise; for he wore the costume of a bare-footed Carmelite when he -came here; and, instead of a thick, curly black beard, he had a red -beard, as short and stiff as a wild boar's hair. He was even more -horrible in that dress, and if it was not the same man, why, I can -safely say that I have seen to-day the two most repulsive monks in -Valdemona." - -"And you were imprudent enough to talk with him?" said Magnani. - -"Talk is not the word; I requested him to carry his preaching somewhere -else, saying that I had no time to go down to him or to listen to his -reprimands; that, if he did not consider my alms worthy of his -acceptance, he could give it to the first poor person he met, and that, -if he was born proud, he had made a great mistake in becoming a -mendicant." - -"Doubtless he was irritated by your replies?" - -"No, for if I had seen that he was mortified or angry, charity or -prudence would have kept me from saying so much. But, instead of -continuing to scold me, he began to smile; a ghastly sort of smile, to -be sure, but not resentful. - -"'You are an amusing child,' he said, 'and I forgive your lack of -propriety because of your wit and your black eyes.' - -"I ask you if it was not very wicked for a monk to pay any attention to -the color of my eyes? I told him that he might stay a year under my -window before I would look to see what color his were. He called me a -flirt; a strange word, isn't it, in the mouth of a man who ought not -even to know that there is such a word? I closed my window, but when I -opened it a quarter of an hour later, being unable to endure the -stifling heat in my room when the sun is high, he was still looking at -me. I refused to talk to him any more. He told me that he would stay -there until I gave him something better than bread; that he knew that I -wasn't a poor girl; that I had a beautiful pin of chased gold in my -hair, and that he would gladly accept that, unless I preferred to give -him a lock of hair in its place. And he followed that up with such -absurd and extravagant compliments that I believed and still believe he -was laughing at me, and that it was his spiteful and unseemly way of -venting his anger. - -"As there were people in the house, particularly your father and one of -your brothers, whom I could see working in their rooms within reach of -my voice, I was not alarmed by that wretched monk's strange remarks and -impertinent glances; I answered only by making fun of him, and, to get -rid of him, I promised to give him something on condition that he would -go away at once. He declared that he had the right to accept or refuse -my offering, and that, if I would let him choose, he would be very -modest and would not ruin me.--'What do you want,' I said, 'a skein of -silk to mend your ragged frock?'--'No,' he replied, 'it's too badly -spun.'--'Do you want my scissors to cut your beard, which is growing all -awry?'--'No, for I might perhaps use it to cut off the rosy tip of that -impertinent little tongue.'--'A needle, then, to sew up your mouth, -which doesn't know what it says?'--'No, for I am afraid that your needle -has no sharper point than your epigrams.' - -"We jested thus for some time; although he annoyed me, he made me laugh; -for it seemed to me that his manner had become more fatherly than -threatening, that he was really a monk, one of those persistent jokers -such as we all know, who obtain by teasing what they cannot extort by -prayer; and lastly, I discovered that he was very bright, and I did not -put a stop to that childish badinage so soon as I should have done. I -took from the wall a little mirror about the size of my hand, of no -value, which he had noticed hanging by my window, as to which he asked -me how many hours a day I passed consulting it. I lowered it to him by a -silk thread, saying that he would certainly enjoy looking at himself in -it much more than I had enjoyed having his face before my eyes so long. - -"He seized it eagerly and kissed it, exclaiming in a tone which -frightened me: 'Has it retained a reflection of your beauty, O dangerous -maiden? Just a reflection! that is very little, but if I could fix it -there, I would never take my lips from it.' - -"'Fie!' I said, drawing back from the window, 'those words dishonor the -frock you wear, and such jesting does not befit a monk.' - -"I closed my window again and came to this door where we are now, and -opened it so that I could breathe while I worked. But I had not been -there five minutes when I saw the Capuchin before me. He had presumed to -enter the house, I don't know how; for I had locked the outer door, and -he must either have been prowling around in the adjoining house, or have -known all the ins and outs of this one.--'Go away,' I said to him; 'no -one has a right to enter a house in this way, and if you come near my -door, I will call my father and brother, who are in the next room.' - -"'I know perfectly well that they are not there,' he replied, with a -hateful laugh, 'and as for the neighbors, it would do no good to call -them, for I should be far away before they could get here. What makes -you afraid of me, young woman? I only wanted to have a nearer view of -your soft eyes and your red lips; Raphael's Madonna is a mere -maid-servant compared with you. Come, don't be afraid of me'--and, as he -spoke, he held the door open, which I tried to shut in his face.--'I -would give my life for a kiss from you; but if you refuse me that, give -me at least the rose that perfumes your breast; I shall die of joy -dreaming that ----' - -"I heard no more, for he had let the door go and tried to seize me in -his arms. In spite of my terror, I had more presence of mind than he -expected; for I stepped quickly to one side, slammed the door in his -face, and as he was a little bewildered by the blow, I took advantage of -it to run through Michel's room. I ran downstairs at the top of my -speed, and didn't stop until I was in the street, for there was no -neighbor near enough to depend upon. When I was among the people in the -street, I was no longer afraid of the monk, but I wouldn't have come -back to my room for anything on earth. I walked to Villa Palmarosa, and -didn't feel entirely at ease until the princess had taken me into her -room. I passed the rest of the day there, and did not come home until -father was ready. But I dared not say anything about what had happened, -for the reason I have given you--and if I must be entirely frank, -because I felt that I had been imprudent to joke with that wretched -begging monk, and that I deserved some blame for it. A rebuke from my -father would almost kill me; but from Princess Agatha--why, I would -rather be damned at once and forever!'" - -"Dear child, as you are so afraid of reproaches, I will keep your -secret," said Magnani, "and I will not venture to make the slightest -comment." - -"On the contrary, I beg you to comment as severely as you please, -Magnani. It will not humiliate me from you. I am not presumptuous enough -to think that you like me, and I know that my childish faults will not -cause you the slightest distress. It is because I know how dearly my -father and Princess Agatha love me that I dread so to grieve them. But -you can say whatever you please to me, for you will simply laugh at my -foolishness." - -"So you think me very indifferent, do you?" said Magnani, upon whom this -story of the monk had had a singularly disquieting and disturbing -effect. - -Then, surprised at the question that had escaped him, he rose and went -on tiptoe to listen at Michel's door. He thought that he could hear the -regular breathing of a sleeping person. The Piccinino had in fact -succeeded finally in allaying the tumult of his thoughts, and Michel, -overcome by weariness, was dozing in his chair, with his head resting on -his hands. - -Magnani returned to Mila; but he dared not sit beside her again. "And I -too," he thought, ashamed, and as it were, afraid of himself, "I am a -monk consumed by my imagination and excited by enforced continence. This -child is too lovely, too pure, too trustful, to live thus the -untrammelled neglected life of girls of our station; no one can look at -her without emotion, whether he be a monk doomed to celibacy or a man -hopelessly in love with another woman. I would like to have my hands on -that vile monk and break his neck; and yet I too quiver at the thought -that this unsuspecting maiden is in this room, alone with me, in the -silence of night, ready to seek shelter in my arms at the slightest -alarm!" - - - - -XXXI - -WITCHCRAFT - - -Magnani tried to divert his thoughts by talking of the princess with -Mila. The innocent girl lured him into it, and he accepted that subject -of conversation as a preservative. It will be seen that a strange -revolution had taken place in two days in the young man's mental -condition, since he had already reached the point of looking upon his -love for Agatha as a duty, or as what the doctors call a depurative. - -If he had been certain that the princess loved Michel, of which fact he -was persuaded at times, with a feeling of utter stupefaction, he would -have been almost entirely cured of his own mad passion. For he had given -it so exalted a place in his thoughts that, as he had lost hope, so he -had almost reached the point where he desired nothing. His passion had -become a sort of pious habit, so ideal that it no longer touched the -earth, and that by returning it, Agatha might have destroyed it -instantly. Assume that she loved any man on earth, even the man who -cherished so exalted an adoration for her, and she became in his eyes -simply a woman, whose influence he could combat. That was the result of -five years' suffering without the slightest presumption, and without a -moment's intermission. In a heart of such strength and purity, the -utmost order had prevailed amid the effervescence of a passion which -resembled a beginning of madness; and it was precisely that circumstance -which might be Magnani's salvation. Efforts to deaden his pain would -have served only to excite him more, and after indulging in vulgar -pleasures, he would have returned to his chimera with more suffering and -more weakness; whereas by abandoning himself without resistance, without -desire for repose, and without terror, to a martyrdom which might be -everlasting, he had allowed the flame to become concentrated in one -spot, where it burned dully, not fanned from without, and deprived of -any fresh sustenance. - -Thus Magnani had reached that critical moment when a man must be cured -or die, without any transition. He did not appreciate it, but it -certainly was a fact, for his senses were awaking from a long period of -numbness, and Agatha, far from contributing to the awakening, was the -only woman to whom he would have blushed to attribute in his thoughts -the perturbation that he felt. - -Little by little, he leaned toward the girl in order not to lose a -single one of her words, and he ended by sitting down beside her, and -asking her why it had occurred to her to talk of him with Princess -Agatha. - -"Why, it is very simple," replied Mila; "she led me to do it by asking -me which of the young mechanics of my acquaintance Michel had been most -intimate with since he had arrived in the island; and as I hesitated -between you and one or two of father's apprentices who assisted Michel, -and whom he seemed to like, the princess herself said: - -"'Perhaps you are not sure, Mila, but I would be willing to wager that -it is a certain Magnani, who works for me, and of whom I think very -highly. During the ball they sat in my garden together, and I was very -near them--just behind the myrtle bush. I had gone there to rest, and -was almost in hiding, in order to escape for an instant the torture of -such a long performance. I overheard their conversation, which -interested and touched me to the last degree. Your brother has a noble -mind, Mila, but your neighbor Magnani has a great heart. They talked of -art and work, of ambition and duty, of happiness and virtue. I admired -the artist's ideas, but I fell in love with the artisan's sentiments. -For your young brother's sake, I hope that Magnani will always be his -best friend, the confidant of all his thoughts, and his adviser in the -delicate emergencies of his life. You can advise him to that effect from -me, if he happens to mention me to you; and if you tell either of them -that I listened to the sincere outpouring of their thoughts, you will -not fail to tell them also that I was a discreet listener, for there -came a time when Magnani seemed on the point of disclosing to -Michelangelo some personal matter which I did not choose to overhear. I -retired hastily at the first word,'--Is all that accurate, Magnani? Do -you remember the subject of your conversation with Michel in the garden -of the Casino?" - -"Yes, yes," sighed Magnani, "it is all true; indeed, I noticed when the -princess retired, although it would never have occurred to me that it -was she who was listening to us." - -"At all events, you ought to be proud of it, Magnani, and very glad of -it, since what you said made her feel so much friendship and esteem for -you. I even thought that I could see that she preferred your way of -thinking to my brother's, and that she looked upon you as the wiser and -better of the two, although she says that she has felt the same motherly -interest in the welfare of both of you from that moment. Couldn't you -repeat to me all the beautiful words which the princess so enjoyed -hearing? I should be very glad to have the benefit of them, for I am a -poor little girl, with whom Michel himself hardly deigns to talk -seriously." - -"My dear Mila," said Magnani, taking her hand, "honor to the man whom -you consider worthy to form your heart and your mind! But, even if I -could remember all that Michel and I said to each other in that garden, -I should not presume to think that it would benefit you in any way. -Aren't you better than either of us? And as for wit, which of us can -have more than you?" - -"Oh! now you are laughing at me! Princess Agatha has more than all three -of us together, nor do I think that even my father has any more than she -has. Ah! if you knew her as well as I do, Magnani! Such a head and -heart! such charm! such kindness! I could pass my whole life listening -to her; and, if my father and she would allow it, I would like to be her -servant, although obedience is not my leading characteristic." - -Magnani was silent for a few moments. He could not succeed in -disentangling his thoughts in his excitement. Hitherto Agatha had seemed -to him so far above all praise that he was indignant and hurt when -anyone ventured to say that she was lovely, charitable and sweet. He -preferred to listen to those who said that she was ugly and mad, when -they did not know her and had never seen her. They at all events said -nothing about her in which there was the slightest sense, whereas the -others praised her too feebly, and annoyed Magnani beyond words by their -inability to comprehend her. But on Mila's lips Agatha lost nothing of -the idea he had formed of her. Only Mila seemed to him pure enough to -utter her name without profaning it, and because she shared his -adoration, she was almost equal to his idol in his eyes. - -"Dear Mila," he said at last, still holding her hand, which he had -forgotten to give back to her, "to love and to understand as you do -indicates a great mind. But what did you say about me to the princess? -Ought I not to ask you?" - -Mila blessed the darkness, which concealed her blushes, and she grew -bolder as a timid woman gradually becomes intoxicated by the assured -impunity of a masquerade. - -"I am really afraid that it will be indiscreet in me to repeat it to -you," she said, "and I should not dare to do it!" - -"So you said unkind things about me, did you, naughty Mila?" - -"No; for Princess Agatha had said so much good of you that it would have -been impossible for me to think any evil of you. I cannot look at -anything except through her eyes. But I let out something which Michel -told me in confidence." - -"Really? I don't know what you mean." - -Mila noticed that Magnani's hand trembled. She ventured to strike a -decisive blow. - -"Well," she said, in an artless, almost indifferent tone, "I told the -princess that you were really very kind, very pleasant and very learned; -but that one had either to know you very well, or else guess at you in -order to find it out!" - -"Because ----?" - -"Because you were in love, and that made you so melancholy that you -lived almost entirely alone, buried in meditation." - -Magnani trembled. - -"It was Michel who told you that!" he said, in a changed tone that made -Mila's heart bleed. "And doubtless he betrayed my confidence to the -end," he added; "he told you the name----" - -"Oh! Michel is incapable of betraying anybody's confidence," she -replied, struggling to maintain her courage at the level of the crisis -she had provoked; "and I, Magnani, am incapable of leading my brother on -to such a base thing. Besides, why should I be at all interested, I -should like to know?" - -"Of course, it must be a matter of entire indifference to you," replied -Magnani, completely crushed. - -"Indifference is not the word," she said; "I have much esteem and -friendship for you, Magnani, and I pray for your happiness. But I am -interested in my own happiness, too, so that I have no time to be idle -and pry into other people's secrets." - -"Your happiness! At your age, Mila, happiness is love; so you are in -love, too, are you?" - -"In love? why not? Do you consider me too young to think about such -things?" - -"Ah! my dear child, you are at the age when one should think about such -things, for at my age love is despair." - -"Why, is your love not returned? I was not mistaken in thinking that you -are unhappy?" - -"No, my love is not returned," he replied, dejectedly, "and never will -be; I have never even dreamed that it would." - -A more romantic and more experienced woman than Mila might have looked -upon that admission as a definitive obstacle to all hope; but her ideas -of life were more simple and more logical: "If he has no hope, he will -recover," she thought. - -"I pity you deeply," she said to Magnani, "for it is such great -happiness to feel that one is loved, and it must be so ghastly to love -all by oneself!" - -"You will never know such a misfortune," Magnani replied; "and the man -you love should be the most grateful and the proudest of men!" - -"I am satisfied with him," she said, gratified to feel that jealousy was -beginning to make itself felt in the young man's perturbed heart; "but -listen, Magnani! there is a noise in my brother's room." - -Magnani ran to the other door; but, while he was making vain efforts to -distinguish the nature of the noises Mila had heard, she heard other -noises in the yard. She looked through the blind, and, beckoning to -Magnani, pointed out to him Michel's mysterious guest, who was gliding -toward the street so lightly and adroitly, that unless one had a -delicate ear and keen eye and was on the alert, expecting to see him, it -would have been impossible to detect his movements. - -Even Michel had not been roused from the light doze into which he had -fallen. - -Mila was still very ill at ease, although Magnani urged her to take some -rest, promising that he would remain in the yard or in the gallery, and -that Michel should not leave the house without him. As soon as Magnani -had left her, she fell upon a chair and drew her table noisily along the -floor, so that she might hear Michel wake and move about in his turn. - -The young man soon entered her room, after noticing with amazement that -the Piccinino's light body had left little more impression on his bed -than if he had been a spectre. He found little Mila still up, and -reproved her for her wilful sleeplessness. But she explained her reasons -for anxiety; and, without mentioning Magnani, for the princess had -enjoined upon her not to let Michel know of his presence, she told him -of the Piccinino's strange and impudent visit to her room. She also told -him something of her experience with the monk, and made him promise that -he would not leave her during the morning, and that, if he were summoned -by the princess later in the day, he would not go out without letting -her know, because she was determined to seek shelter with some friend -and not remain alone in the house. - -Michel readily agreed. He was utterly unable to understand the bandit's -conduct on that occasion. But we can imagine that such an audacious -performance, taken in connection with the impertinence of the pretended -monk, left him in a decidedly uncomfortable frame of mind. - -When he returned to his chamber, after barricading the door of the -gallery with his own hands in order to protect his sister against any -fresh attack, he looked about for the cyclamen upon which he had gazed -so sorrowfully as he sat beside his table. But the cyclamen had -disappeared. The Piccinino had noticed that the princess, as on the -evening of the ball, had a bouquet of cyclamen in her hand or close at -hand, and that she seemed to have contracted the habit of playing with -that bouquet even more than with her fan, the inseparable companion of -all the women of the South. He had also noticed that Michel treasured -one of those flowers, and that he had drawn it toward his face several -times, then hastily pushed it away, during the first agitated moments of -his vigil. He had divined the mysterious charm attached to that plant, -and before leaving the room he had maliciously taken it from the glass -upon which Michel's inert hand still rested. He threw the little flower -into the sheath of his dagger, saying to himself: "If I stab anyone -to-day, perhaps this memento of the lady of my thoughts will remain in -the wound." - -Michel tried to follow the Piccinino's example, that is to say, to -recover his lucidity of thought by enjoying an hour or two of real -sleep. He had insisted that Mila should go to bed, and, in order to make -surer that she was adequately guarded, he left the door open between -their rooms. He slept heavily, as young men of his age do, but his sleep -was disturbed by confused and distressing dreams, an inevitable -consequence of his present position. When he woke, shortly after -daylight, he tried to collect his thoughts, and first of all he looked -to see if he had not dreamed of the abstraction of the precious -cyclamen. - -His surprise was unbounded when he saw that the glass, empty when he -fell asleep, was filled with freshly gathered cyclamens. - -"Mila," he said, seeing that his sister was already up and dressed, "you -have cheerful and poetic ideas, I see, despite our anxieties and -dangers. These flowers are almost as lovely as you; but they can never -replace the one I have lost." - -"You imagined," she said, "that I had taken it or tipped over the glass -after your extraordinary friend went away; you almost scolded me, and -you refused to remember that I had never so much as thought of putting -my foot inside your _mysterious_ chamber! Now, you accuse me of -replacing it with others, which is no less absurd; for where could I -have got them? Am I not barricaded on the gallery side? Haven't you my -key under your pillow? Unless, indeed, these pretty little flowers grow -on my pillow, which is possible--in a dream." - -"Mila, you persist in jesting on all subjects and at all seasons. You -may have had this bouquet last night. Weren't you at Villa Palmarosa in -the afternoon?" - -"For heaven's sake, don't these flowers grow anywhere but in Princess -Agatha's boudoir? I understand now why you are so fond of them. Where, -pray, did you pick the one that you looked for so long this morning, -instead of going straight to bed?" - -"I picked it in my hair, little one, and I believe that my brains left -my head with it." - -"Ah! very good; now I understand why you talk nonsense." - -Michel could find out nothing more. Mila was as calm and smiling when -she woke as she had been disturbed and fearful when she fell asleep. He -obtained nothing from her but quips of the sort in which she was -proficient, always possessed of some metaphorical meaning, and instinct -with a sort of childish charm. - -She asked him for the key of her room, and while he was dressing, lost -in thought, she attended to her household duties with her usual activity -and lightness of heart. She flew about the corridors and stairways, -singing like the morning lark. Michel, as melancholy as the winter sun -on the ice-fields at the pole, heard the floors creaking under her agile -feet, heard her merry laugh as she received her father's kiss on the -floor below, heard her ascend the stairs to her room, like a well-aimed -arrow, then go down again to the fountain to fill the graceful earthen -jugs, which are made at Siacca, after Moorish models, and are commonly -used by the people of those regions; heard her salute the neighbors with -kindly pleasantries, and play with the half naked children who were -already beginning to roll about on the flagstones in the yard. - -Pier-Angelo was also dressing, more rapidly and in more cheerful mood -than Michel. Like Mila, he sang, but in a deeper and more martial voice, -as he shook his brown, red-lined jacket. He was interrupted at times by -a lingering remnant of drowsiness, and yawned over the words of his -ballads, then finished the refrain triumphantly. That was his way of -waking, and he never sang better, in his own ears, than when his voice -failed him. - -"Happy heedlessness of truly popular natures!" said Michel to himself, -as he leaned on his window-sill, half-dressed. "One would say that -nothing unusual was taking place in my family, that we were not -surrounded by enemies and snares; that my sister slept as usual last -night, that she knows nothing of love without hope, of the danger of -being beautiful and poor in view of the schemes of vicious minds, and of -the other danger that she may be deprived at any moment of her natural -protectors. My father, who must know everything, acts as if he suspected -nothing. In this wretched climate everything is forgotten or takes on an -entirely different aspect in the twinkling of an eye. The volcano, -tyranny, persecution--nothing interrupts the songs and laughter. At -noon, overwhelmed by the heat, they all sleep and seem like corpses. The -cool evening air revives them like vigorous plants. Terror and rashness, -grief and joy, succeed one another with them like the waves on the -shore. Let one of the chords of the heart be relaxed, and twenty others -wake to new life, just as the taking of a flower from a glass of water -causes a whole bouquet to appear there! I alone, amid these -incomprehensible transformations, am always on the alert, but always -serious; my thoughts are always lucid, but always gloomy. Ah! would that -I had remained the child of my caste and the man of my native land!" - - - - -XXXII - -THE ESCALADE - - -The group of houses of which Michel's formed a part was shabby and ugly -in reality, but exceedingly picturesque. Built upon blocks of lava, and -in part constructed of the same lava, those rough structures bore traces -of the last earthquakes which had overturned them. The lower floors, -which were bolted to the solid rock, retained an unmistakable flavor of -antiquity; and the upper portions, erected in haste after the disaster, -or already shaken by later shocks, even now had a decrepit look: huge -cracks, roofs with a threatening pitch, and dangerous staircases, the -rails of which were all awry. Wild vines inextricably tangled about the -ragged protuberances of cornices and awnings, prickly aloes, crushing by -their weight the old terra-cotta urns, and encroaching with their rough -branches upon the little terraces which hovered in the most insane way -upon the highest points of those tumble-down buildings; white linen, or -garments of gaudy hue hanging from all the windows, or flying about like -banners on lines stretched from house to house: all this formed a -strange, bold picture. One could see children playing and women working -almost among the clouds, on narrow platforms surrounded by pigeons and -swallows, and barely protected, away up there in space, by a few black, -worm-eaten rails, which it seemed that the first gust of wind would blow -away. The slightest change of level in that volcanic soil, the slightest -convulsion in that gorgeous but ill-omened landscape, and the torpid or -reckless occupants of those houses would be engulfed in a raging hell, -or swept away as the leaves are by the tempest. - -But danger acts upon men's minds in proportion to its distance. In the -midst of actual security, the idea of a catastrophe presents itself -under terror-inspiring colors. When one is born, breathes and lives in -the midst of actual danger, under a never-ceasing threat, the -imagination becomes deadened, fear loses its keen edge, and there ensues -a strange repose of mind which resembles torpor rather than courage. - -Although the picture we have described possessed a genuine poetic charm, -in its very shabbiness and its disorder, Michel had not yet detected it. -He had passed his childhood at Rome, in houses more solidly constructed -at all events and of a neater aspect, if not more sumptuous, and his -thoughts always aspired to the splendor of palaces. His father's abode, -that hovel in which Pier-Angelo had lived ever since his childhood, and -to which he had returned with so much love in his heart, seemed to young -Michel nothing more than a pestiferous den which he would have been glad -to see return to the lava from which it had come forth. In vain did -Mila, in marked contrast to her neighbors, keep their little quarters -almost fastidiously neat and clean. In vain was their staircase -embellished with the loveliest flowers. In vain did the bright morning -sun draw broad lines of gold athwart the shadows of the black lava and -upon the heavy arches of the recessed portions of the building. Michel -thought of nothing but the grotto of the naiad, the marble fountains of -the Palmarosa palace, and the porch where Agatha had appeared to him -like a goddess in the doorway of her temple. - -At last, after bestowing one regretful thought upon his recent chimera, -he was ashamed of his dejection. "I came to this country, when my father -hadn't sent for me," he said to himself, "and my uncle the monk -convinced me that I must submit to the drawbacks of my position and -accept its duties. I subjected myself to a most severe test when I -turned my back upon Rome and the hope of glory to become an obscure -workingman in Sicily. The test would have been too mild and too short -if, at the outset, being loved or admired at first sight by a great and -noble lady, I had had only to stoop and pick up laurel crowns and -piastres. Instead of that, I must be a good son and a good brother, and, -moreover, a stout-hearted man, to defend at need the honor of my family. -I am well assured that the signora's esteem and my own, perhaps, can be -had only at that price. Very well, I will accept my destiny cheerfully, -and learn to endure without regret what my nearest and dearest endure so -courageously. I will be a man in advance of my years, and lay aside the -overpetted personality of my youth. If I have anything to blush for, it -is for having been a spoiled child so long, and for having failed to see -that it would soon be my duty to assist and protect those who devoted -themselves to me so unselfishly." - -This determination restored peace to his heart. His father's songs and -little Mila's seemed to him the sweetest of melodies. - -"Yes, yes," he said to himself, "sing on, happy birds of the South, pure -as the sky that looked down upon your birth! This merriment is the -indication of a perfectly clear conscience, and laughter well befits -you, who have never had an idea of evil! Ah! my old father's dear old -ballads, which have allayed the anxieties of his life and lessened the -fatigue of his labor--I should listen to them with respect instead of -smiling at their simplicity! And my young sister's merry laughter I -should welcome with affectionate delight as a proof of her courage and -her innocence! Away with my selfish dreams and my unfeeling curiosity! I -will go through the storm with you, and will enjoy as you do a burst of -sunlight between two clouds. My careworn brow is an insult to your -candor--black ingratitude for your kindness. I propose to be your staff -in distress, your comrade in toil, and your boon companion in joy! - -"Sweet and melancholy flowers," he added, stooping fondly over the -bouquet of cyclamen, "whatever hand plucked you, whatever the sentiment -of which you are a pledge, my breath, aflame with evil desires, shall -sully you no more. If I sometimes lay bare my heart, as you do, I pray -that it may be as pure as your calices; and if it bleeds, as you seem to -bleed, I pray that virtue may exhale from its wounds, even as fragrance -exhales from your bosom." - -Immediately after forming these excellent resolutions, made more -seductive by this vein of poetic imagery, young Michel completed his -toilet without further dallying, and made haste to join his father, who -was already at work mixing colors to _patch_ the paint at Villa -Palmarosa in many places where it had been marred by the chandeliers and -decorations of the ball. - -"Here," said the goodman, handing him a large purse of Tunisian silk, -filled with gold pieces; "here is the pay for your beautiful ceiling." - -"It is too much by half," said Michel, examining the beautifully -embroidered and shaded purse with much more interest than its contents. -"Our debt to the princess is not yet discharged, and I propose that it -shall be this very day." - -"It is, my child." - -"Then it must have been paid out of your wages, not out of mine. For if -I know how to estimate the contents of a purse, there is more here than -I propose to accept. Father, I do not propose that you shall work for -me. No, I swear by your gray hairs that you shall never work for your -son again, for it is his turn to work for you. Nor do I intend to accept -alms from Princess Agatha; I have had enough of such patronage and -generosity." - -"You know me well enough," replied Pier-Angelo, with a smile, "to -believe that, far from interfering with your pride and your dutiful -sentiments, I shall always encourage them. Take my advice, therefore, -and accept this money. It is honestly yours; it costs me nothing, and -the person who gives it to you is at liberty to place what estimate she -pleases on the merits of your work. That is the difference that there -will always be between you and your father, Michel. An artist has no -fixed price. A single day of inspiration may make him rich. Whereas, a -deal of hard work is not enough to raise us mechanics out of the slough -of poverty. But God, in His mercy, has given us compensations. The -artist conceives and brings forth his works with much pain. The mechanic -performs his task with laughter and a song. I am so accustomed to that, -that I wouldn't exchange my trade for yours." - -"Let me at least derive from mine such pleasure as it is capable of -affording me," said Michel. "Take this purse, father, and let nothing -ever be taken from it for my use. It is my sister's marriage portion; it -is the interest on the money she lent me when I was at Rome; and if I -never earn enough to make her richer, let her at least have the benefit -of my day of success. O father!" he cried, seeing that Pier-Angelo was -unwilling to accept his sacrifice, "do not refuse me; you will break my -heart! Your blind affection has almost corrupted my nature. Help me to -cease to be the selfish creature that you would have made me. Encourage -my good impulses, instead of robbing me of their fruit. It comes only -too late." - -"True, my boy, I ought to do it," said Pier-Angelo, deeply touched; "but -consider that this is no mere commonplace sacrifice of money that you -propose to make. If it were simply a matter of depriving yourself of -some little pleasure, it would be of little consequence, and I should -not hesitate. But your artistic future, the cultivation of your -intellect, the very essence of your life, are contained in this little -silk net! It means a year of study in Rome! And who knows when you will -be able to earn as much more? Perhaps the princess won't give any more -balls. The other nobles are neither so rich nor so generous as she. Such -opportunities are not often met with, and are very likely not to happen -twice in a lifetime. I am growing old; I may fall from my ladder -to-morrow and cripple myself; then how would you resume the life of an -artist? Aren't you at all alarmed at the idea that, for the pleasure of -giving your sister a marriage portion, you run the risk of becoming a -mechanic again, and remaining a mechanic all your life?" - -"So be it!" exclaimed Michel; "that no longer frightens me, father. I -have reflected. It seems to me that there is as much honor and pleasure -in being a mechanic as in being rich and proud. I love Sicily! Is it not -my native land? I do not propose to leave my sister again. She needs a -protector until she is married, and I propose that she shall be able to -make her choice deliberately. You are old, you say! you may be crippled -to-morrow! Well then! who would take care of you, pray,--who would -support you, who would comfort you,--if I were away? Would it be -possible for my sister to do it when she has a family of her own? A -son-in-law? but why should I leave it for another to fulfill my duties? -Why should he steal my honor and my glory? for this is wherein I choose -to establish them henceforth, and my chimeras have given place to -reality. Tell me, father, am not I, too, in a cheerful mood this -morning? Would you like me to sing a second to the old ballad you were -singing just now? Do I seem to you to have the despairing look of a man -who is sacrificing himself? Do you not love me, I pray to know, that you -refuse to be my employer?" - -"Very well!" replied Pier-Angelo, gazing at him with glistening eyes, -and with a trembling of the hands that indicated extraordinary emotion. -"You are a man of heart! and I shall never regret what I have done for -you!" - -As he spoke, Pier-Angelo removed his cap, uncovering his bald head, and -stood erect in the attitude, at once proud and respectful, of an old -soldier before his young officer. It was the first time in his life that -he had adopted the more formal mode of address with Michel,[7] and that -change, which might have seemed to denote coldness and dissatisfaction -in other fathers, assumed in his mouth a peculiarly affectionate and -majestic meaning. It seemed to the young painter that he had been hailed -as a man by his father at last, and that that form of address--that -uncovered head and those few calm and serious words--rewarded and -honored him more abundantly than the most eloquent academic eulogy. - -While they worked together, Mila busied herself preparing their -breakfast. She went back and forth from one room to another, but passed -more frequently than was absolutely necessary along the gallery of which -we have spoken. She had a secret reason for this. Magnani's chamber, -which, to tell the truth, was only a wretched garret with a window in -which there was no glass--the warm climate making that luxury -unnecessary for people in good health--was at the corner of the house -nearest to the gallery, and by leaning over the rail one could talk with -a person who happened to be sitting at the window of that modest -apartment. Magnani was not in his room; he only passed the night there, -and at daylight went to his work elsewhere, or worked out-of-doors on -the gallery opposite the one on which Mila often sat at her work. From -there she could watch him without looking at him, for hours at a time, -and not lose a single one of his movements, although she did not seem to -lift her eyes from her work. - -But on this morning she walked back and forth to no purpose. He was not -on the gallery, although he had promised her, as well as the princess, -not to go away from home. Had he allowed himself to be overcome by -sleep, after two sleepless nights? That was hardly consistent with what -she knew of his stoical determination and of his inexhaustible strength. -Doubtless he was breakfasting with his parents. But Mila, who had -stopped more than once to listen to the tumultuous voices of the Magnani -family, could not distinguish the grave, manly tones which she knew so -well. - -She looked at the window of his garret. The room was dark and empty as -usual. Magnani had no luxurious habits as Michel had, and he had always -crushed within himself any craving for refinement in his surroundings. -Whereas Pier-Angelo and his daughter, in anticipation of the cardinal's -death and the young painter's arrival, had made ready for that beloved -child a neat, clean, airy attic chamber, furnished with the best that -they could spare from their own furniture, Magnani slept on a rug thrown -on the floor by his window, to make the most of the little air which -could find its way in through that loophole, recessed as it was between -two walls. The only embellishment which he had introduced consisted of a -box which he had placed on the outer edge of that yawning aperture, and -in which he had sown a few pretty convolvuli which formed a frame of -fresh flowers for the window. - -He watered them every day; but during the last forty-eight hours he had -been so engrossed that he had forgotten them; the pretty white bells had -closed and drooped languidly upon their half-withered leaves. - -Mila, carrying one of her earthen jugs perched lightly on her head, an -enormous braid of hair thrice twisted acting as a cushion, noticed that -her neighbor's convolvuli were dying of thirst; that would have afforded -a pretext for speaking to him if he had been anywhere about; but there -was nobody in that retired and sheltered corner. Mila tried, by -stretching her arm over the rail, to reach the poor plants and give them -a few drops of water. But her arm was too short, and the jug did not -reach the box. Children cannot bear the impossible, and when they have -undertaken a thing they go on with it at the peril of their lives. How -many times have we climbed upon a window to reach a swallow's nest, and -counted with the tips of our fingers the little warm eggs on their bed -of down! - -Little Mila spied a stout branch of grapevine which hung along the wall -like a bell-rope and was twisted about the rail of the gallery. To climb -over the rail and cling to the vine did not seem to her very difficult. -In this way she reached the window. But, as she raised her lovely arm to -water the convolvuli, a strong hand seized her slender wrist, and a -brown face, wearing a smile that displayed two rows of large white -teeth, stooped toward hers. - -Magnani, not wishing to sleep, nor, on the other hand, to seem to be -watching what was taking place in the house, as Agatha had ordered, had -lain down on his rug to rest his weary limbs. But his mind and his eyes -were wide open, and, at every risk, he had seized that stealthy arm -whose shadow passed across his face. - -"Let me go, Magnani," said the girl, more deeply moved by the meeting -than by the risk she might be incurring; "you will throw me down! this -vine is giving way under me." - -"Throw you down, my dear child!" replied the young man, passing a -powerful arm about her waist. "Unless this arm is cut off, and then the -other, you shall never fall!" - -"Never? that is saying a good deal, for I love to climb, and you won't -always be with me." - -"Happy the man who will be with you always and everywhere, sweet little -Mila! But what are you doing here with the birds?" - -"I saw from my window that this lovely plant was thirsty. See how its -pretty head droops and how its leaves are falling. I thought that you -were not here, and I was going to give the poor roots something to -drink. Here is the jug. You can bring it back to me by and by. I am -going back to my work." - -"Already, Mila?" - -"Especially as I am very uncomfortable perched up here. I have had -enough of it. Let me go, so that I can return the way I came." - -"No, no, it is too dangerous. The vine is bending, and my arms aren't -long enough to hold you till you reach the gallery. Let me lift you in -here, Mila, and then you can go out through my chamber." - -"I can't do that, Magnani; the neighbors would say unkind things of me, -if they saw me go into your room either by the window or by the door." - -"Very well, stay there, hold on tight; I will come out through the -window and help you to go back." - -But it was too late: the vine suddenly gave way; Mila shrieked, and if -Magnani had not grasped her with both hands and seated her on the edge -of the window, crushing his dear convolvuli a little in the act, she -would have fallen. - -"Now," he said, "my imprudent young lady, you cannot go out any other -way than through my room. Come in quickly, for I hear steps under the -gallery, and no one has seen you yet." - -He drew her hastily into his poor room, and she walked to the door as -swiftly as she had come in through the window; but the door was ajar, -and as she looked out she saw that the door of the cobbler's room on the -same landing was wide open, and that the cobbler himself, the most -evil-tongued of all the neighbors, was sitting there, singing over his -work, so that it was impossible to go out without exposing herself to -his unpleasant witticisms. - - -[Footnote 7: That is to say, had called him _you_ instead of _thou_.] - - - - -XXXIII - -THE RING - - -"There!" said the girl, closing the door with a touch of vexation, "the -evil spirit has a grudge against me! Just because I took it into my head -to water a poor flower, I am in danger of being torn to pieces by evil -tongues and scolded by my father--and above all by Michel, who is such a -tease with me!" - -"Dear child," said Magnani, "people would not dare to speak of you as -they speak of others; you are so different from all the other girls in -our suburb! Everybody loves you and respects you as no one of them will -ever be loved and respected. Besides, as it is on my account--or rather -on account of my poor flowers--that you have run this risk, you need not -have the slightest fear. Woe to the man who dares to speak ill of you!" - -"All the same, I shall never dare to pass that horrible cobbler." - -"You are quite right. It is his breakfast time. His wife has called him -twice already. He will go directly. Wait here a few seconds, perhaps a -minute--especially as I should like to say a word to you, Mila." - -"What have you to say to me, pray?" she replied, taking a chair which he -offered her, and which was the only one in the room. She was trembling -with violent inward excitement, but she affected a careless air which -her position seemed to impose upon her. It was not that she was afraid -of Magnani; she knew him too well to fear that he would take advantage -of the tête-à-tête; but she feared, more than ever before, that he -would guess the secret of her heart. - -"I don't know just what I have to say to you," rejoined Magnani. "It -seemed to me that it would be for you to say something to me." - -"I!" cried proud little Mila, rising. "I have nothing to say to you, I -give you my word, Signor Magnani!" - -And she was about to leave the room, preferring the gossip of the -neighborhood to the danger of being found out by the man she loved, when -Magnani, surprised by her movement, and observing her sudden flush, -began to suspect the truth. - -"Dear Mila," he said, placing himself in front of the door, "one -moment's patience, I beg you. Do not let people see you, and do not be -angry with me if I detain you a moment. The consequences of a pure -accident may be very serious to a man who is determined to kill or be -killed to defend the honor of a woman." - -"In that case, do not speak so loud," said Mila, struck by Magnani's -expression; "for that miserable cobbler may overhear us. I know," she -continued, allowing him to lead her back to her chair, "that you are -brave and generous, and that you would do for me what you would do for -your own sister. But I am not anxious that that should happen, for you -are not my brother, and you cannot justify me by fighting my battles. -People would say all the more evil of me, or else we should be compelled -to marry, which would not suit either of us." - -Magnani gazed into Mila's black eyes, and, seeing how proud they were, -he speedily renounced the presumptuous idea that had caused him both -fear and pleasure as it flashed through his mind. - -"I understand perfectly well that you do not love me, my dear Mila," he -said with a sad smile. "I am not lovable, and it would be the most -melancholy thing on earth, after being compromised by me, to pass your -life with such an unsociable being." - -"That is not what I meant to say," replied the crafty maiden. "I have -much esteem and friendship for you; I have no reason for concealing that -fact from you; but I have an inclination for another. That is why I am -so distressed and tremble so at being shut up in this room with you." - -"If that is so, Mila," said Magnani, bolting his door and closing the -window-shutter so hastily that he nearly consummated the ruin of his -convolvulus, "let us take all necessary precautions to prevent anyone -knowing that you are here. I swear to you that you shall go out without -anybody suspecting it, though I have to put all the neighbors out of the -way by force--though I have to stand guard until night." - -Magnani tried to be playful, and imagined that he was very much relieved -to find that he was not called upon to defend himself against Mila's -love; but it saddened him to hear the girl declare her affection for -another, and his candid face expressed, despite his efforts, a painful -disappointment. Had she not previously confessed it to him during their -long vigil, and had she not by that confidence invested him in a certain -sense with the duties of a brother? He was determined to execute -worthily that sacred mission; but how did it happen that a moment before -it had startled him to see her in anger, and why had his heart, -nourished so long upon an insane and bitter passion, felt suddenly -revivified and rejuvenated by the unexpected presence of this child who -had entered through his window like a sunbeam? - -Mila was stealthily watching him. She saw that she had struck home. "O -untamed heart," she said to herself, with silent but intense joy, "I -have you now; you shall not escape me." - -"My dear neighbor," said the artful minx, "pray do not be offended at -what I have just told you, and do not look upon it as an affront to your -merit. I know that any other than myself would be flattered to be -compromised by you, with the hope of becoming your wife; but I am -neither a liar nor a flirt. I am in love, and, as I have confidence in -you, I tell you of it. I know that it cannot cause you any pain, since -you have given up all thought of marriage, and since you detest all -women, except a single one who is not myself." - -Magnani made no reply. The cobbler was still singing. "It is my fate," -thought Magnani, "not to be loved by any woman and never to be cured of -my love." - -Mila, inspired by that species of divination which love gives to women, -even to those who have had no experience and have read but little, said -to herself--and justly--that Magnani, being stimulated in his passion by -suffering and absence of hope, would be alarmed and repelled at the idea -of love being offered to him unasked--a too-ready, alluring love; -consequently she represented herself as invulnerable and protected -against him by another attachment. In that way she lured him by making -him suffer, and that was, in truth, the only way in which he could be -lured. By changing the form of his torture, she paved the way for his -cure. - -"Mila," he said to her at last, pointing to a heavy ring of chased gold -which he wore on his finger, and which she had already noticed, "can you -tell me the source of this beautiful present?" - -"That?" she said, looking at the ring with feigned astonishment. "It is -impossible for me to tell you anything about it. But I no longer hear -your neighbor; farewell. By the way, Magnani, you look very tired. You -were resting when I came in; you would do well to rest a little more. -None of us are in any danger at this moment. I am not, because my father -and brother are about the house. They are not, because it is broad -daylight and the house is full of people. Sleep, my dear neighbor. If it -is only for an hour, that will give you strength to go on with your -rôle of guardian of the family." - -"No, no, Mila. I shall not sleep, and, indeed, I have no desire to; for, -say what you will, there are some strange, inexplicable things still -going on in this house. I confess that I lost myself a moment, just as -day was breaking. You were asleep; you were locked into your room; the -man in the cloak had gone. I had sat down under your gallery, saying to -myself that the first step that shook it would wake me instantly if I -should happen to fall asleep. And thereupon I did actually fall asleep. -For five minutes perhaps, not more, for it was not perceptibly lighter -when I woke again. Well! when I opened my eyes, I fancied that I saw a -corner of a dress or a black veil, which flitted by me and disappeared -like a flash. I made a vague, fruitless effort to seize that vision with -the hand that lay half open on the bench at my side. But in my hand, or -beside it--I don't know which--was an object which I dropped at my feet, -and instantly picked up again: it was this ring. Have you any idea to -whom it belongs?" - -"Such a fine ring cannot belong to anyone in the house," Mila replied; -"but I think I know it." - -"And I know it, too," said Magnani; "it belongs to Princess Agatha. For -five years I have seen it on her finger, and it was there the day she -came into my mother's room." - -"It is a ring that came to her from her own mother, she told me so! But -how does it happen to be on your hand to-day?" - -"I relied upon you to explain that prodigy to me, Mila; that is what I -wanted to ask you." - -"Upon me? Why upon me?" - -"You are the only one in this house in whom the princess is sufficiently -interested to have given her so handsome a present." - -"And if she had given it to me," she said, in a superb and mocking tone, -"do you suppose that I would have deprived myself of it in your favor, -Signor Magnani?" - -"No, surely not; you should not and would not have done it; but you -might have passed along the gallery and dropped it, for I was just under -the rail." - -"No, I did not! Besides, didn't you see a black dress beside you? Am I -dressed in black?" - -"I thought, however, that you might have gone down into the yard during -that moment that I was asleep, and that, to punish me or to make sport -of me, you played that joke on me. If that is the case, Mila, you must -agree that the punishment was too light, and you ought to have poured -water on my face instead of keeping it for my flowers. But take your -ring, I don't want to keep it any longer. It wouldn't be a suitable -thing for me to wear, and I should be afraid of losing it." - -"I swear to you that that ring was never given to me, that I did not go -into the yard while you were asleep; and I will not take what belongs to -you." - -"As it is impossible that Princess Agatha should have come here this -morning----" - -"Oh! to be sure, that is impossible!" said Mila, with mischievous -gravity. - -"And yet she did come here!" said Magnani, thinking that he could read -the truth in her gleaming eyes. "Yes, yes, Mila, she came here this -morning! You are impregnated with the perfume that her clothes exhale; -either you touched her cape, or she kissed you, not more than an hour -ago." - -"Great heaven!" thought the girl, "how well he knows everything that has -any connection with Princess Agatha! how shrewdly he guesses, when she -is in question! Suppose it were she with whom he is in love? Well! God -grant that it may be, for she will help me to cure him; she loves me so -dearly!" - -"You don't answer me, Mila," continued Magnani. "Since you are found -out, confess." - -"I do not even know what you said," she replied; "I was thinking about -something else--about going away!" - -"I will help you; but first I will beg you to put this ring on your -finger so that you may return it to Princess Agatha; for she surely lost -it when she passed me." - -"And supposing that she did come here, which is absurd, my dear -neighbor, why should she not have made you this present?" - -"Because she must know me well enough to be sure that I would not accept -it." - -"You are proud!" - -"Very proud, you have said it, my dear Mila! It is not in the power of -any person to put a material price on the devotion which my heart gives -joyfully. I can conceive that a great nobleman may present a gold chain -or a diamond to the artist who has delighted him for an hour by his -genius, but I could never understand why he should want to pay the man -of the people from whom he feels justified in asking a proof of -affection. Moreover, that would not be the case here. In notifying me -that your brother was in some danger, Princess Agatha simply pointed out -to me a duty, which I should have performed as zealously if anyone else -had given me the same warning. It seems to me that I am sufficiently her -friend and your father's, and I might also venture to say yours, to be -ready to stand guard, to fight, and to go to prison for one of you, -without being hired to do so by anyone. Don't you believe it, Mila?" - -"I do believe it, my friend," she replied; "but I believe also that you -misinterpret this gift altogether, if it is a gift. Princess Agatha -knows better than you or I that friendship is not to be bought with -money and jewels. But she probably feels, as you and I do, that when -friendly hearts unite to aid one another, esteem and sympathy increase -in proportion to the zeal which each one displays. In many cases a ring -is a pledge of friendship, not payment for service rendered; for you -have rendered the princess a service by protecting us, that is certain; -although I do not know how it comes about, her cause is bound up with -ours, and our enemies are hers. If you reflect on what I have told you, -you will realize that this ring has a sentimental value in the -princess's eyes, not a material value, as you say; for it is a trinket -not especially valuable in itself." - -"You told me that it came to her from her mother, did you not?" said -Magnani, deeply moved. - -"And you yourself noticed that she always wore it! If I were in your -place, and were sure that that ring had been given to me, I would never -part with it. I would not wear it on my finger, where it would attract -too much attention from envious creatures, but on my heart, where it -would be like a blessed relic." - -"In that case, my dear Mila," said Magnani, touched by the extreme -delicacy with which the girl tried to allay the bitterness of his heart, -and to make him accept her rival's gift with pleasure, "in that case, -take this ring back to her, and if she really meant to give it to me, if -she insists upon my keeping it, I will keep it." - -"And you will wear it on your heart as I told you?" asked Mila, looking -him through and through with courageous but anxious eyes. "Remember," -she added, vehemently, "that it is the pledge of a patron saint; that -the woman whom you love, whoever she may be, cannot deserve that you -should sacrifice it to her, and that it would be far better to throw it -into the sea than to profane it by an act of ingratitude!" - -Magnani was dazzled by the flame that flashed from Mila's great black -eyes. Did she guess the truth? Perhaps! but if she simply relied upon -Magnani's gratitude for the woman who had saved his mother, she was no -less noble and generous in seeking to procure for him the pleasure of -believing in that good fairy's friendship. He began to feel infected by -the chaste and deep-rooted ardor which she carried concealed in her -heart, and that proud and passionate heart revealed itself against its -will, amid its efforts to subdue itself or to keep quiet. - -An impulsive outburst of gratitude and tenderness brought Magnani to his -knees at the girl's feet. - -"Mila," he said, "I know that Princess Agatha is a saint, and I do not -know whether my heart is worthy to receive a relic from her. But I do -know that there is but a single other heart in the world to which I -would be willing to entrust it; so never fear; no woman, except you, -will ever seem to me pure enough to wear this ring. Put it on your -finger now, in order to give it back to the princess or to keep it for -me." - -Mila, when she had returned to her room, had a moment's dizziness, as if -she were going to faint. Her heart throbbed wildly with mingled feelings -of consternation and delirious joy. At last she heard her father, who -was impatient for his breakfast, crying: - -"Well, little one, we are hungry, and thirsty above all! for it's hot -already and the paints make your throat dry." - -Mila hastened to wait upon them; but when she placed her jug on the -table at which they were breakfasting, she noticed that it was empty. -Michel offered to go and refill it, after making fun of her -absent-mindedness. Sensitive to the reproof, and making it a point of -honor to be her old father's only servant, Mila snatched the jug from -him and ran lightly to the fountain. - -This fountain was a beautifully clear spring which gushed from the very -heart of the lava, in a soft of cliff behind the house. It not -infrequently happens in those regions overrun by lava, that springs -become choked up by volcanic matter and disappear, to appear again after -the lapse of several years. The people dig in search of the former bed. -They find that the water has broken out a passage under the cold fires -of the volcano, and, as soon as it is given an opportunity, it rushes to -the surface, as pure and healthful as before. The one which bathed the -base of Pier-Angelo's house bubbled up at the bottom of a deep -excavation that had been made in the rock, to which a picturesque -staircase led. It formed a little basin for the laundresses, and a -quantity of white linen, hung upon all the walls of the grotto, kept it -constantly dark and cool there. Pretty Mila, as she tripped up and down -that steep staircase ten times a day, with her jug upon her head, was a -most perfect model for those classical figures which the painters of the -last century inevitably placed in all their Italian landscapes; and in -truth what more natural accessory, what more charming _local color_ -could one give to those pictures than the faces and costumes, the -majestic yet sprightly attitudes of those graceful, brown nymphs? - - - - -XXXIV - -AT THE FOUNTAIN - - -When Mila descended the staircase cut in the rock, she saw a man sitting -on the edge of the spring, but was not alarmed. Her heart was all full -of love and hope, and the recollection of the dangers that threatened -her was powerless to affect her. Even when she reached the brink of the -spring, this man, whose back was turned to her, and whose head and body -were enveloped in the long hooded cape which the common people wear,[8] -did not arouse her suspicions; but when he turned and asked her in a -soft voice if she would permit him to drink from her jug, she started; -for it seemed to her that she recognized the voice, and she noticed that -there was no one in sight, either above or below the fountain; that not -a child was playing on the staircase as usual, in fact, that she was -alone with this stranger, whose voice terrified her. - -She pretended not to have heard him, hastily filled her jug, and -prepared to go up again. But the stranger, reclining on the stones, -either to bar her way or perhaps to rest more comfortably, said to her -in the same caressing tone: - -"Rebecca, will you refuse a drop of water to Jacob, the friend and -servant of the family?" - -"I do not know you," replied Mila, trying to assume a calm and -indifferent tone. "Can you not put your lips to the cascade? You can -drink from it much better than from a jug." - -The stranger calmly passed his arms around Mila's legs, and compelled -her to lean on his shoulder to avoid falling. - -"Let me go," she said, terrified and angry, "or I will call for help. I -have no time to jest with you, and I am not one of those who dally with -every strange man they see. Let me go, I tell you, or I will shriek." - -"Mila," said the unknown, throwing back his hood, "I am no stranger to -you, although it is not long since we became acquainted. We have -relations together which it is not in your power to break off, and which -it is your duty not to refuse to recognize. The life, fortune, and honor -of those who are dearest to you on earth rest on my zeal and my loyalty. -I have something to say to you; give me your jug, so that if anyone is -watching it will not seem unnatural that you should have stopped here a -moment with me." - -On recognizing the mysterious guest of the previous night, Mila was -subjugated as it were by a sort of dread not unmingled with respect. For -we must tell the whole truth: Mila was a woman, and the Piccinino's -beauty, his youth, his expression and his soft voice did not fail to -exert a secret influence upon her sensitive and slightly romantic -instincts. - -"My lord," she said to him, for it was impossible not to take him for a -nobleman in disguise, "I will obey you; but do not detain me by force, -and speak more quickly, for this situation is not without danger to us -both." - -She handed him her jug, from which he drank without haste; for, -meanwhile, he held the girl's lovely bare arm in his hand and gazed upon -its beautiful shape, pressing it at the same time to force her to tip -the jug gradually, as he quenched his real or pretended thirst. - -"Now, Mila," he said, covering his face, which he had left uncovered for -her to admire, "listen to me! The monk who frightened you yesterday will -come here again as soon as your father and brother have gone out: they -are to dine to-day with the Marquis della Serra. Do not try to keep them -at home on any account; if they should stay at home, if they should see -the monk, if they should try to drive him away, it would be the signal -for some disaster which I could not prevent. If you are prudent and -devoted to your family, you will even spare the monk the danger of -showing himself in your house. You will come here as if to wash; I know -that, before going into the house, he will prowl about here and will try -to surprise you outside of your yard, for he is afraid of the neighbors. -Do not be afraid of him; he is a coward, and he will never attempt to -use violence with you in broad daylight, or when he is in any danger of -being discovered. He will talk to you again of his ignoble desires. Cut -the conversation short; but pretend that you have changed your mind. -Tell him to go away because you are watched; but make an appointment -with him for twenty o'clock[9] at a place which I will indicate, and -whither you must go alone, an hour earlier. I will be there. You will -run no risk therefore. I will take charge of the monk, and you will -never hear of him again. You will be delivered from a detestable -persecutor, Princess Agatha will no longer be in danger of being -dishonored by shocking calumnies; your father will no longer have the -threat of imprisonment hanging over him, and your brother Michel that of -the assassin's dagger." - -"Great God! great God!" said Mila, panting with fear and surprise, "this -monk is so ill-disposed toward us and able to injure us so! Is he Abbé -Ninfo?" - -"Speak lower, girl, and do not let that accursed name reach the ears -that surround you to-day. Be calm; seem to know nothing and to be doing -nothing. If you say a word of all this to anybody, no matter who it may -be, you will be prevented from saving those whom you love. You will be -told to distrust me, because your own prudence and strength of will are -distrusted. Who knows if I shall not be taken for your enemy? I am not -afraid of anyone, but I am afraid that my friends will destroy -themselves by their indecision. You alone can save them, Mila! Will you -do it?" - -"Yes, I will," she said; "but what will become of me if you are -deceiving me? if you do not keep the appointment?" - -"Why, don't you know who I am?" - -"No, I do not know; no one was willing to tell me." - -"Look at me, then; venture to examine me carefully, and you will know me -better from my face than all those people do who have spoken to you -about me." - -He put aside his hood, and was able to give to his handsome face so -reassuring and affectionate and gentle an expression, that the -simple-hearted Mila yielded to its dangerous influence. - -"It seems to me," she said, with a blush, "that you are kind and honest; -if the devil is in you, he has put on the mask of an angel." - - -[Illustration: _MILA SURPRISED AT THE FOUNTAIN._ - -_She handed him her jug, from which he drank -without haste; for, meanwhile, he held the girl's -lovely bare arm in his hand and gazed upon its -beautiful shape, pressing it at the same time to force -her to tip the jug gradually, as he quenched his real -or pretended thirst._] - - -The Piccinino closed his hood to conceal the sensuous gratification -afforded him by that artless confession from the loveliest lips in the -world. - -"Very well," he replied, "follow your instinct. Obey only the promptings -of your heart; let me tell you, moreover, that your uncle at Bel Passo -brought me up as his son, that your dear Princess Agatha has placed her -fortune and her honor in my hands, and that, if she were not a woman, -that is to say a bit of a prude, she would have made this most essential -appointment with Abbé Ninfo." - -"But I am a woman too," said Mila, "and I am afraid. Why is this -appointment so essential?" - -"Don't you know that I am to kidnap Abbé Ninfo? How can I seize him in -the streets of Catania, or at the gates of Villa Ficarazzi? Must I not -lure him out of his den, and lead him into a trap? His evil fate -ordained that he should fall insanely in love with you." - -"Oh! don't use the word love in connection with such a man; it makes me -shudder. And you want me to make a pretence of encouraging him! I shall -die of shame and disgust." - -"Farewell, Mila," said the bandit, pretending to rise. "I see that you -are a woman like other women, after all, a weak, vain creature, who -thinks only of saving herself, utterly heedless of the calumnies and -blows that may fall upon the heads which should be most sacred to her!" - -"No, no, I am not like that!" she replied proudly. "I will sacrifice my -life in this experiment; as for my honor, I shall find a way to die -before it is stained." - -"Good, good, my brave girl! Now you are talking as Fra Angelo's niece -should talk. You see that I am perfectly undisturbed on your account, -however, because I know that you are in no danger." - -"But are not you in danger, my lord? If you fall, who will protect me -against this monk?" - -"A dagger thrust--not in your beautiful bosom, my poor angel, as you -threaten, but in the throat of a vile beast, who is not worthy to die by -a woman's hand, and who will never expose himself to that risk." - -"Where must I agree to meet him?" - -"At Nicolosi, at the house of Carmelo Tomabene, farmer, who, you will -tell him, is your friend and kinsman. You will add that he is absent, -that you have the keys of his house, and that there is a large sheltered -garden which he can enter, unseen by anyone, by going down through the -ravine of the _Destatore's Cross_. Can you remember all that?" - -"Perfectly; and will he go?" - -"He will go without any doubt, and without a suspicion that this Carmelo -Tomabene is on very intimate terms with a certain Piccinino, who is said -to be a leader of bandits, and to whom, only yesterday, he offered a -princely fortune on condition that he would kidnap your brother and at -need murder him." - -"Blessed Madonna, protect me! The Piccinino! I have heard of him; he is -a terrible man. Will he be there with you? I should die of fright if I -saw him!" - -"And yet," said the bandit, overjoyed to find that Mila knew so little -of what was going on, "I will wager that, like all the girls in the -neighborhood, you are dying with the longing to see him." - -"I should rather like to see him, because they say he is so ugly! But I -should want to be sure that he did not see me!" - -"Never fear; there will be nobody but myself at the farmer's house in -Nicolosi. Tell me, are you afraid of me too, child that you are? Have I -a very dreadful, very wicked look?" - -"No, indeed you have not! But why must I keep the appointment? Won't it -be enough if I send the abbé--I mean the monk?" - -"He is suspicious, like all criminals; he will never go into Carmelo -Tomabene's garden unless he sees you walking there all alone. By going -there an hour in advance of the time fixed, you run no risk of meeting -him on the road; at all events, go by the Bel Passo road, which you -probably know better than the other. Have you ever been to Nicolosi?" - -"Never, my lord; is it a very long way?" - -"Too far for your little feet, Mila; but you can cling to a mule's back, -can't you?" - -"Oh! yes, I think so." - -"You will find a perfectly safe, gentle beast behind Villa Palmarosa. A -child will bring it to you, with a white rose for countersign. Drop the -reins on the trusty creature's neck, and have no fear, but let him go as -fast as he will. In less than an hour he will bring you to my gate, -without once missing the way or taking a false step, however horrible -the road he selects may seem to you. You won't be afraid, Mila?" - -"And suppose I should meet the abbé?" - -"Lash your beast, and don't be afraid that anyone will overtake you." - -"But if I am to go by way of Bel Passo, you will surely allow my uncle -to escort me?" - -"No, your uncle has business elsewhere for the same good cause; but, if -you notify him, he will insist upon accompanying you. If he sees you, he -will follow you, and our whole undertaking will have come to naught. I -have no time to tell you more. I think that I hear some one calling you. -You hesitate; does that mean that you refuse?" - -"I am not hesitating; I will go! My lord, do you believe in God?" - -This abrupt and ingenuous question made the Piccinino turn pale and -smile at the same time. - -"Why do you ask me that?" he said, pulling his hood over his face. - -"Ah! you know why?" said she. "God hears and sees everything. He -punishes falsehood and assists innocence!" - -Again they heard Pier-Angelo's voice, calling his daughter. - -"Go," said the Piccinino, supporting her with his hands, to assist her -to mount the staircase quickly; "remember, if a single word escapes you, -we are lost." - -"You too?" - -"I too!" - -"That would be a pity," thought Mila, turning at the top of the -staircase to cast a last glance at the comely stranger, of whom it was -impossible not to make a hero and a friend of the first order, and whom, -in her joyous imagination, she placed beside Agatha. He had such a soft -voice and such a sweet smile! His tone was so noble, his authoritative -air so convincing! "I will be brave and discreet," she said. "I am only -a little girl, and yet I am the one who is to save everybody's life!" In -all times, alas! the sparrow has yielded to the fascination of the -vulture. - -In all this the Piccinino gave way to an inborn passion for increasing -the difficulties of an adventure to his profit, or simply for amusement. -To be sure, he had no better way of enticing Abbé Ninfo to his house -than by offering a bait to his lust. But he might well have chosen some -other woman than the innocent Mila to play, with the aid of some slight -resemblance or of a similar costume, the part of the person who was to -appear in his garden. The abbé was sometimes insultingly suspicious, -because he was a horrible coward; but, blinded by ridiculous -presumption, and impelled by lecherous impatience, he would have fallen -into the trap. A little violence, a man stationed behind the gate, would -have sufficed to place him in the bandit's hands. There were many other -ruses to which the Piccinino was accustomed to resort, and which might -have succeeded as well; for the abbé, with all his scheming, his -inquisitiveness, his incessant espionage, his impudent falsehoods and -his shameless persistence, was a villain of the lowest order, and the -stupidest and least adroit man on earth. People are too much afraid of -knaves as a general rule; they do not know that the majority of them are -fools. Abbé Ninfo would not have had to take half the trouble to do -twice the harm, if he had had ever so little intelligence and real -penetration. - -For instance, we have seen that he was always beside the truth in his -discoveries. He had assumed innumerable disguises and invented a -thousand time-worn methods of watching what was taking place at Villa -Palmarosa; and he was thoroughly persuaded that Michel was the -princess's lover. He was a hundred leagues from suspecting the nature of -the tie between them. He might easily have deceived Doctor Recuperati, -whose unswerving uprightness lacked foresight and intelligence; and yet, -desiring to steal the will from him, he had delayed from day to day, and -had never succeeded in gaining his confidence in the slightest degree. -It was impossible for him to play for five minutes the rôle of a -well-meaning man, his face bore so unmistakably the stamp of unalloyed -and unbounded baseness. - -His vices embarrassed him, as he himself admitted, even proclaimed, when -he was intoxicated. Dissolute, avaricious, and so intemperate that he -fuddled his brain when lucidity was most essential to him, he had -conducted a difficult intrigue to a successful end. The cardinal had for -a long time made use of him as a police agent for whom no task was too -vile, and he had never valued him except as a tool of the lowest order. -In his days of cynical wit, the prelate had branded him with an epithet -which we shall not attempt to translate, and from which he had never -been able to rise. - -Thus he had had no share in the family affairs and secrets of State -which had filled the life of Monsignor Hieronymo. The contempt which he -inspired in his master had survived his loss of memory, and the aged -prelate, paralyzed and almost in his dotage, was not even afraid of him, -and recovered the power of speech with him only to call him by the -degrading sobriquet which he had previously bestowed on him. - -Another proof of the abbé's idiocy was his cherished conviction that he -could seduce all the women who aroused his desires. - -"With a little money and a lot of lies," he would say, "with threats, -compliments and promises, a man can obtain the proudest or the humblest -of them." - -Consequently he flattered himself that he could obtain a share of -Agatha's fortune by effecting the removal of the man whom he presumed to -be her lover. He was capable of but one thing, of placing Michel at the -muzzle of a bandit's gun, and shouting _fire_! in a moment of -disappointed vanity and greed; he would not have dared to kill him -himself, just as he would not have dared to do violence to Mila, if she -had threatened him with nothing more than a pair of scissors. - -But, abject wretch that he was, he had a certain power for evil; it did -not spring from him, the villainy of other men had invested him with it. -The Neapolitan police lent him its dastardly and odious assistance when -he requested it. He had caused many innocent victims to be exiled, -ruined, or cast into dungeons, and he might very well have seized Michel -without having recourse to the brigands of the mountain. But he wished -to be able to surrender him, at need, for a heavy ransom, and he wished -to have the terms of ransom discussed by avowed brigands, whose interest -it would be not to betray him. His whole rôle consisted in seeking out -the _bravi_ and saying to them: "I have discovered a love intrigue which -is worth something. Do the job, and we will divide the profits." - -But herein again he had been gulled. A shrewd _bravo_, who _worked_ in -the city under the Piccinino's direction, and who would not have -presumed to do anything without consulting him, had deceived the abbé -by inviting him to a rendezvous at which he had not seen the real -Piccinino, who was present, however, behind a partition. The Piccinino -had thereupon threatened to break the head of the first of the two -accomplices who should say a word or take a step without orders from -him, and they knew that he was a man to keep his word. Indeed, the young -adventurer governed his band with such extraordinary skill, with a -mixture of gentleness and despotism so well blended, that his father had -not been so loved and dreaded as he was, although, to be sure, he had -acted upon a larger scale and his enterprises had been more extensive. -He could be perfectly at ease, therefore; his secrets would not have -been revealed under torture, and he was able to gratify the caprice -which he frequently had, of carrying out entirely alone, without a -confidant and without assistance, an undertaking in which he had no need -of using main force, but only of craft and strategy. - -That is why the Piccinino, sure of the success of his plan, which was of -the simplest, chose to blend with it, on his own account, poetic, -strange, and romantic incidents, or real passions, according to his -whim. His vivid imagination and his cold nature involved him constantly -in contradictory enterprises, from which he was always able to extricate -himself, thanks to his great intelligence and his self-control. He had -always sailed his craft so skilfully that, outside of his accomplices -and the very small number of his intimate friends, no one could have -proved that the famous captain, Piccinino, natural son of the -_Destatore_, and the placid villager Carmelo Tomabene were one and the -same man. The latter also was supposed to be a son of Castro-Reale; but -there were so many others in the mountains who prided themselves upon -that perilous origin! - - -[Footnote 8: It is a double woolen _surtout_, of several different -colors inside and out. It is worn as a protection against the sun's heat -as well as against the cold.] - -[Footnote 9: That is to say, four hours before nightfall.] - - - - -XXXV - -THE COAT OF ARMS - - -Thus the one really formidable enemy of the Lavoratori family, had he -chosen to assume that character, was the Piccinino; but Mila had no -suspicion of it, and Fra Angelo relied upon that element of heroism -which formed, if we may so express it, half of his ward's character. The -worthy monk was not free from anxiety, none the less; he had hoped that -he would soon see him again, and have an opportunity to make sure of his -disposition in the matter: but he had waited and sought in vain. He was -beginning to wonder if he had not turned the wolf into the sheepfold, -and if it were not a great mistake to act in concert with men who were -capable of doing what one would not be willing to do oneself. - -He went to Villa Palmarosa at the usual hour for the daily siesta, and -found Agatha preparing to enjoy the delights of that moment of repose so -essential to Southern peoples. - -"Set your mind at rest, my dear padre," she said, "my anxiety vanished -with the daylight. At dawn I was so far from confident concerning your -ward's purposes, that I went myself to make sure that he had not -murdered Michel during the night. But the child was sleeping quietly and -the Piccinino had already gone." - -"You went yourself to investigate, signora? What will the people in the -suburb say of such a proceeding?" - -"They will never know anything about it, I trust. I was alone and on -foot, entirely covered by an old-fashioned _mazzaro_[10] and, if I met -any persons who know me, they certainly did not recognize me. However, -my good padre, I no longer have any serious fears. The abbé knows -nothing." - -"You are sure of it?" - -"I am perfectly sure, and the cardinal is as incapable of remembering -anything whatsoever, as the doctor represented him to be. Nevertheless, -the abbé has evil projects on hand. Would you believe that he supposes -Michel to be my lover?" - -"And the Piccinino believed it?" said the monk, in dismay. - -"He believes it no longer," replied Agatha. "I received a note from him -this morning in which he gives me his word that I can be perfectly at -ease; that the abbé will be in his power in the course of the day, and -that until then he will find a way to keep him so busy that we shall -hear nothing from him. So I breathe freely, and have only one subject of -anxiety; that is, to know how I am to escape the intimacy of Captain -Piccinino hereafter, for he threatens to become too attentive. But we -will talk of that later; sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof; -and if, after all, it should become necessary for me to tell him the -truth--You do not think him the man to abuse it, do you?" - -"I know that he is the man to pretend that he proposes to take advantage -of and abuse every opportunity; but have the courage to treat him always -as a paragon of sincerity and generosity, and you will see that he will -try to live up to the character, and will do it, in spite of the devil." - -The princess and the Capuchin talked together for a long while, and -mutually informed each other of all that they knew. After which, Fra -Angelo went down to Catania to cancel Magnani's orders, to make another -appointment with him to meet Agatha, and to take his place as escort to -Michel and his father to the Marquis della Serra's palace; for, in spite -of everything, Fra Angelo did not like the idea of their being alone in -the country, so long as he himself had not seen the _Destatore's_ son. - -We will follow these three members of the Lavoratori family to the -marquis's villa, leaving Mila in anxious expectation of the monk's -visit, while Magnani, working on the gallery opposite her room, was far -from suspecting that, after asking his assistance, she was watching for -an opportunity to steal out of sight. She had promised her father to go -and dine with her friend Nenna, as soon as she had washed and ironed a -veil which she said that she must have to wear. Everything happened as -her unknown friend had predicted. She saw the monk at the fountain, and -had no need to feign a most intense fear of being taken by surprise, for -she asked herself in dire distress what Magnani would think of her if, -after what she had told him, he should see her voluntarily talking with -that miserable wretch. - -To avoid the necessity of speaking to him and looking at his disgusting -face, she tossed him a written paper which he read with the utmost -delight; then he went away, throwing her kisses which made her quiver -with disgust and indignation. - -At that moment her father, brother, and uncle, having no shadow of -suspicion of the perils to which the poor child was about to expose -herself for them, entered the Della Serra palace. That sumptuous -dwelling, more modern than that of Palmarosa, from which it was -separated only by their respective great parks and a narrow valley -covered with gardens and grass, was filled with artistic objects, -statues, urns, and magnificent paintings, which the marquis had -collected with the enthusiasm of an earnest and enlightened connoisseur. -He came forward in person to meet the Angelos, shook hands with them -cordially, and, pending the dinner-hour, took them all over his noble -residence, showing to them and explaining courteously, and with no less -wit than good sense, the masterpieces of art with which it was -embellished. Pier-Angelo, although a simple decorator, had excellent -taste, and a due appreciation of the beautiful in art. He was peculiarly -susceptible to the charm of all those marvellous things with which he -was already familiar, and his artless yet profound reflections enlivened -the most serious conversation instead of lowering its tone. Michel was a -little embarrassed at first in the marquis's presence; but as he soon -discovered that his father's natural and unconstrained manner seemed to -a man of sense like the marquis in unexceptionable taste and most -becoming, he felt more at ease; and finally, when he found himself -sitting at a table laden with silver plate, decorated as handsomely and -with as great an abundance of flowers as for the entertainment of the -most illustrious guests, he forgot his prejudices, and talked as freely -and interestingly as if he had been the marquis's own son or nephew. - -A single thing disturbed him strangely during the dinner: the expression -and attitude which he attributed to the marquis's servants; I say which -he attributed, because he dared not look at them. He had dined many a -time at the tables of the rich when he was in Rome, especially after his -father returned to Catania, and he no longer had a family to keep him at -home and prevent his seeking the society of the fashionable youth of the -city. So that he did not fear any affront for himself; but, as it was -the first time that he and his father had been invited to dine abroad -with a patrician, he suffered torments at the idea that the lackeys -might shrug their shoulders and pass the dishes rudely to the excellent -old man. - -In truth those lackeys might well have had a feeling of anger and -contempt, having seen Pier-Angelo on his ladder so many times in that -same palace, and treated him as their equal. - -Nevertheless, whether because the marquis had prepared them by a word or -two of kindly and straightforward explanation calculated to flatter and -soothe the sensitive self-love of men of that class, or because -Pier-Angelo was so great a favorite with all who knew him that even -footmen laid aside their customary pride in his favor, they served him -with much deference. Michel observed it at last, when his father, -turning to an old servant who was filling his glass, said to him with a -smile: - -"Many thanks, old fellow; you wait on me like a friend. I'll do as much -for you when I have the chance." - -Michel flushed and glanced at the marquis, who smiled with a touched and -gratified air. The old servant also smiled at Pier-Angelo with a -friendly glance. - -After the dessert was removed, the marquis was informed that Master -Barbagallo, the princess's majordomo, was waiting in one of the rooms of -the palace to show him a picture. They found him in conference with Fra -Angelo, whose sobriety and restless activity made him impatient of a -long sitting at table, and who had asked leave to walk about the grounds -immediately after the first course. - -At first, the marquis went alone to Barbagallo, to ask if he had any -private message for him from the princess; and when they had exchanged -in an undertone a few words which seemed to be of no importance, to -judge by their faces, the marquis returned to Michel and said, putting -his arm through his: - -"Perhaps it will afford you some pleasure to see my family portraits, -which are in a separate gallery, and which I had forgotten to show you. -Don't be alarmed at the multitude of ancestors assembled under my roof. -You can look them over at a glance, and I will call your attention -particularly only to those which are the work of some great master. -However, it is an interesting collection of costumes, which a historical -painter might consult with advantage. But, before going in, let us cast -a glance at this one which Master Barbagallo has brought to us, having -just disinterred it in the lofts of Villa Palmarosa.--My dear child," he -added, in a low voice, "pray bestow a greeting on the poor majordomo, -who is outdoing himself in reverences, being ashamed, doubtless, of his -behavior to you at the princess's ball." - -Michel at last noticed the majordomo's advances, and replied to them -without resentment. Since he had become reconciled to his position and -to himself, he felt that he was cured of his over-sensitiveness, and -believed, with his father, that no impertinence can reach the man who -possesses his own esteem. - -"This which I present to your excellency," said the majordomo to the -marquis, "is a very much dilapidated Palmarosa; but, although the -inscription had almost disappeared, I have succeeded in deciphering it, -and here it is on a bit of paper." - -"What!" said the marquis, with a smile, "you succeeded in reading that -this swashbuckler was a captain in the reign of King Manfred, and that -he accompanied John of Procida to Constantinople? That is wonderful. For -myself, I read the original inscription with the eyes of faith!" - -"You can be perfectly sure that I am not mistaken," replied Barbagallo. -"I knew this gallant captain well, and I have been trying for a long -time to find his portrait." - -Pier-Angelo roared with laughter. - -"Ah! so you lived in those days!" he said; "I knew that you were older -than I am, Master Barbagallo, but I didn't suppose that you saw our -Sicilian Vespers!" - -"Would that I had not seen it!" exclaimed Fra Angelo, with a sigh. - -"I must explain Master Barbagallo's learning, and the interest he takes -in my family gallery," said the marquis to Michel. "He has passed his -life in this labor of patience, and no one is so familiar as he with -Sicilian genealogies. My family was connected by marriage in the past -with the Princess of Palmarosa's, and even more closely with the family -of Castro-Reale, of which you have doubtless heard." - -"I heard a great deal about it yesterday," replied Michel, with a smile. - -"Very good; when I became the last heir of that family, after the death -of the famous prince known as the _Destatore_, all that came to me by -that succession--to which I gave very little thought, I promise you--was -a collection of ancestors which I did not even care to unpack, but which -Master Barbagallo, being enamored of curios of that sort, took pains to -clean and classify, and to hang in their proper order in the gallery you -are about to inspect. There were already in that gallery, in addition to -my own direct ancestors, a goodly number of ancestors of the Palmarosa -line, and Princess Agatha, who cares nothing for collections of the -sort, sent me hers, saying that it would be better to collect them in a -single place. That gave Master Barbagallo a very long and difficult -task, which he executed with honor to himself. Come, all of you, for I -have many characters to present to Michel, and it may be that he will -need his father's and uncle's assistance to hold his own against so many -dead men." - -"I retire, in order not to impose my presence upon your lordships," said -Master Barbagallo, after accompanying them to the gallery to deposit his -Sicilian captain; "I will return some other time to put my picture in -place; unless the signor marquis desires that I should give Master -Michelangelo Lavoratori, whose very humble servant I am to-day and -always, the history of the originals of these portraits." - -"What, signor majordomo," laughed Michel, "you know the story of all -these characters? There are more than three hundred of them!" - -"There are five hundred and thirty, your lordship, and I not only know -their names and all the incidents of their lives, with their precise -dates, but I also know the name, age, and sex of all the children who -died before their features were reproduced, to be transmitted to -posterity. There have been three hundred and twenty-seven, including -those born dead. I have omitted none but those that never were -baptized." - -"That is marvellous!" said Michel; "but if I had been in your place, -having such a memory, I should have preferred to learn the history of -the human race rather than that of a single family." - -"The human race doesn't interest me," replied the majordomo, gravely. -"His excellency, Prince Dionigi de Palmarosa, father of the present -princess, did not entrust me with the duty of teaching his children -history. But, as I loved to be occupied, and as I had much time to -myself, in a house where no banquets or parties have been given for two -generations, he advised me, for amusement, to make a summary of the -history of his family, which was scattered through a multitude of -manuscript folio volumes, which you can see in the library at Palmarosa, -and all of which I examined and studied to the last letter." - -"And did it really amuse you?" - -"Much, Master Pier-Angelo," the majordomo solemnly replied to the old -painter's jocose question. - -"I see," rejoined Michel, ironically, "that your lordship is no ordinary -steward, and that you are far more cultivated than your duties require." - -"My duties, while not brilliant, have always been very pleasant," -replied the majordomo, "even in Prince Dionigi's day, and he was -pleasant to nobody but me. He had much consideration, almost friendship -for me, because I was an open book which he could consult at any hour -concerning his ancestors. As for the princess, his daughter, as she is -kind to everybody, I cannot but be happy with her. I do almost exactly -as I choose, and there are only three things about her that grieve me, -and those are her giving up her family gallery, her never consulting her -genealogical tree, and her not deigning to investigate the science of -heraldry. And yet it is a delightful science, and one which ladies used -to cultivate with success." - -"And now it is a part of the stock in trade of decorators and gilders of -wood," said Michel, laughing anew. "They are attractive ornaments of -which the bright colors and the flavor of the days of chivalry please -the eye and the imagination; that is all." - -"That is all?" rejoined the scandalized steward; "pardon me, your -lordship, that is not all. Heraldry is history written in hieroglyphics -_ad hoc_. Alas! the time will soon come, perhaps, when we shall know how -to read this mysterious writing better than the sacramental characters -which cover the tombs and monuments of Egypt! And yet what profound and -ingeniously expressed meaning there is in that figurative language! To -place upon a seal, upon the bezel of a ring the whole history of one's -own race--is not that the result of a marvellous art? And what more -concise and more impressive signs have civilized people ever used?" - -"What he says is not without a basis of reason and common sense," said -the marquis, in an undertone, addressing Michel. "But you listen to him -with a disdainful expression which impresses me, young man. Come! say -all that you think; I would like to hear it, in order to ascertain -whether you have good reason for laughing at the nobility with a touch -of bitterness, as you seem inclined to do. Do not be embarrassed; I will -listen to you as calmly and disinterestedly as yonder dead men, who look -down upon us with lifeless eyes, from their frames blackened by the -lapse of time." - - -[Footnote 10: A black silk cloak, which covers the whole body and the -head.] - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PICCININO, VOLUME 01 (OF -2) *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ -concept and trademark. 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Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our website which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™, -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. diff --git a/old/old/69839-0.zip b/old/old/69839-0.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index f03a093..0000000 --- a/old/old/69839-0.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/old/69839-h.zip b/old/old/69839-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 60a012f..0000000 --- a/old/old/69839-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/old/69839-h/69839-h.htm b/old/old/69839-h/69839-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 18212b6..0000000 --- a/old/old/69839-h/69839-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,13998 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html> -<html lang="en"> -<head> -<meta charset="UTF-8"> -<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Piccinino Vol. 01 (of 2), -by George Sand.</title> - -<link href="images/cover.jpg" rel="icon" type="image/x-cover"> - -<style> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; - text-indent:4%; -} - -.nind {text-indent:0%;} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; - clear: both; -} - -table { - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; -} - -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; -} - -.caption {font-weight: normal; - font-size: 90%; - text-align: right; - padding-bottom: 1em;} - -.caption p -{ - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0; - margin: 0.25em 0; -} - -.caption p.smaller -{ - font-size: smaller; -} - -.footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} - -.footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} - -.footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} - -.fnanchor { - vertical-align: super; - font-size: .8em; - text-decoration: - none; -} - - </style> -</head> - -<body> -<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Piccinino, Volume 01 (of 2), by George Sand</p> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world 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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Piccinino, Volume 01 (of 2)</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:1em;'>The masterpieces of George Sand, volume 7</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: George Sand</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Translator: G. Burnham Yves</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Illustrator: Oreste Cortazzo</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: January 19, 2023 [eBook #69839]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Dagny and Laura Natal Rodrigues (Images generously made available by Hathi Trust Digital Library.)</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PICCININO, VOLUME 01 (OF 2) ***</div> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="500" alt="500"> -</div> - -<h1>THE MASTERPIECES OF -<br> -GEORGE SAND</h1> - -<p><br><br></p> - -<h2>AMANDINE LUCILLE AURORE DUPIN,<br> -BARONESS DUDEVANT</h2> - -<p><br><br></p> - -<h3>VOLUME VII</h3> - -<p><br><br></p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h2>The Masterpieces of George Sand<br> -Amandine Lucille Aurore Dupin, Baroness<br> -Dudevant, <i>NOW FOR THE FIRST<br> -TIME COMPLETELY TRANSLATED<br> -INTO ENGLISH THE PICCININO,<br> -AND THE LAST OF THE<br> -ALDINIS BY G. BURNHAM IVES</i></h2> - -<p><br><br></p> - -<h3><i>WITH TWELVE PHOTOGRAVURES AFTER PAINTINGS BY<br> -ORESTE CORTAZZO.</i></h3> - -<p><br><br></p> - -<h3><i>VOLUME I</i></h3> - -<p><br><br></p> - -<h4><i>PRINTED ONLY FOR SUBSCRIBERS BY<br> -GEORGE BARRIE & SON<br> -PHILADELPHIA</i></h4> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> -<a id="frontispiece"></a> -<br> -<img src="images/frontispiece.jpg" width="400" alt="400"> -<div class="caption"> -<p><i>EXAMINING THE ABBÉ'S PAPERS.</i></p> -<p class="smaller"> -<i>He opened and ran through several other papers -which mentioned none but unknown names, and -which Mila burned without looking at them.</i></p> -</div></div> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4>CONTENTS</h4> -<p class="nind"><a href="#INTRODUCTION">INTRODUCTION</a><br> -CHAPTER<br> -I. <a href="#chap01">THE TRAVELLER</a><br> -II. <a href="#chap02">THE TRAVELLER'S STORY</a><br> -III. <a href="#chap03">MONSIGNORE</a><br> -IV. <a href="#chap04">MYSTERIES</a><br> -V. <a href="#chap05">THE CASINO</a><br> -VI. <a href="#chap06">THE STAIRCASE</a><br> -VII. <a href="#chap07">A GLANCE</a><br> -VIII. <a href="#chap08">THE INTRUDER</a><br> -IX. <a href="#chap09">MILA</a><br> -X. <a href="#chap10">PROBLEM</a><br> -XI. <a href="#chap11">THE GROTTO OF THE NAIAD</a><br> -XII. <a href="#chap12">MAGNANI</a><br> -XIII. <a href="#chap13">AGATHA</a><br> -XIV. <a href="#chap14">BARBAGALLO</a><br> -XV. <a href="#chap15">ROMANTIC LOVE</a><br> -XVI. <a href="#chap16">CONCLUSION OF MAGNANI'S STORY</a><br> -XVII. <a href="#chap17">THE CYCLAMEN</a><br> -XVIII. <a href="#chap18">THE MONKS</a><br> -XIX. <a href="#chap19">YOUTHFUL LOVES</a><br> -XX. <a href="#chap20">BEL PASSO AND MAL PASSO</a><br> -XXI. <a href="#chap21">FRA ANGELO</a><br> -XXII. <a href="#chap22">THE FIRST STEP ON THE MOUNTAIN</a><br> -XXIII. <a href="#chap23">THE DESTATORE</a><br> -XXIV. <a href="#chap24">IL PICCININO</a><br> -XXV. <a href="#chap25">THE DESTATORE'S CROSS</a><br> -XXVI. <a href="#chap26">AGATHA</a><br> -XXVII. <a href="#chap27">DIPLOMACY</a><br> -XXVIII. <a href="#chap28">JEALOUSY</a><br> -XXIX. <a href="#chap29">APPARITIONS</a><br> -XXX. <a href="#chap30">THE FALSE MONK</a><br> -XXXI. <a href="#chap31">WITCHCRAFT</a><br> -XXXII. <a href="#chap32">THE ESCALADE</a><br> -XXXIII. <a href="#chap33">THE RING</a><br> -XXXIV. <a href="#chap34">AT THE FOUNTAIN</a><br> -XXXV. <a href="#chap35">THE COAT OF ARMS</a></p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - - -<h4>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS -<br> -THE PICCININO -<br> -VOLUME I</h4> - -<p class="nind"> -<a href="#frontispiece">EXAMINING THE ABBÉ'S PAPERS</a><br> - -<a href="#figure01">THE CARDINAL'S ESCORT</a><br> - -<a href="#figure02">THE BALL AT THE PALMAROSA PALACE</a><br> - -<a href="#figure03">AFTER THE FÊTE</a><br> - -<a href="#figure04">THE CONFERENCE WITH THE PICCININO</a><br> - -<a href="#figure05">MILA SURPRISED AT THE FOUNTAIN</a></p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="INTRODUCTION">INTRODUCTION</a></h4> - -<p> -<i>The Piccinino</i> is an imaginary tale, which does not attempt either to -depict any precise period of history or to describe accurately any -country. It is a study in color, dreamed rather than felt, wherein -correct strokes are few and, as it were, accidental. The scene of this -romance might have been placed anywhere else under the skies of Southern -Europe, and my sole reason for selecting Sicily was that I happened to -have a collection of fine engravings before my eyes at that moment. -</p> -<p> -I had always been conscious of a longing to draw my little brigand -chief, as others have done. The brigand chief who formed the principal -motive of so many novels and melodramas under the Empire, under the -Restoration, and even in romantic literature, always proved generally -entertaining, and the principal interest always attached to that -awe-inspiring and mysterious personage. It was most ingenuous on the -part of the public, but so it was. Whether the type was -terror-inspiring, as in the case of Byron's brigands, or, like those of -Cooper, deserving of the Monthyon prize for virtue, it was enough that -those heroes of despair should have legitimately earned the halter or -the galleys, for every tender-hearted and virtuous reader to love them -devotedly from the first page, and to offer up prayers for the success -of their undertakings. Why, then, should I, on the pretext of being a -reasonable person, have deprived myself of the pleasure of creating one -of them according to my fancy? -</p> -<p> -Being fully persuaded that the brigand chief had become a part of the -public domain, and belonged to every novelist, as do all other classical -types, I determined to try at least to make that personage, occupying as -he does so abnormal a position, possible and true to life in his -character. Such a mystery envelops Byron's pirates that one would not -dare to question them, and that one fears or pities them without knowing -them. Indeed we may as well say at once that it is by virtue of that -unexplained mystery that they appeal to us; but I am not Byron, and my -novels are not poems. I desired, for my own part, to draw a perfectly -intelligible character, encompassed by romantic circumstances, who is -somewhat exceptional in himself, but with whom my indulgent reader can -become acquainted, little by little, as with any ordinary mortal. -</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 60%;">GEORGE SAND</p> - -<p> -Nohant, April 22, 1853. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4>THE PICCININO</h4> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4>TO MY FRIEND</h4> - -<h3><i>EMMANUEL ARAGO</i></h3> - -<h4>IN MEMORY OF A PLEASANT EVENING</h4> - - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap01"></a>I -<br><br> -THE TRAVELLER -</h4> - -<p> -The region called <i>piedimonta</i>, which surrounds the base of Ætna, -and of which Catania forms the portion nearest the level of the sea, is, -according to the declared opinions of all travellers, the loveliest -country in the whole world. It is that fact which impels me to place -there the scene of a story which was recently told me, but of which I -was forbidden to reveal the real <i>locus</i> or the real characters. -Therefore, dear reader, pray take the trouble to transport yourself in -imagination to the district called Valdemona, or <i>Valley of the -Demons</i>. It is a beautiful spot, which, however, I do not propose to -describe in great detail, for a sufficiently good reason: namely, that I -am not familiar with it, and one cannot depict very faithfully what one -knows only by hearsay. But there are so many excellent books of travel -that you can consult! unless, indeed, you prefer to go thither in -person, which I would that I, too, might do, to-morrow, provided that it -was not with you, reader; for, in presence of the marvellous beauties of -that spot, you would rebuke me for having described it so ill, and there -is nothing more disagreeable than a travelling companion who is -constantly preaching at you. -</p> -<p> -In default of something better, my fancy is impelled to lead you rather -far away, beyond the mountains, and to leave in peace for a time the -quiet country districts wherein I usually like to frame my tales. The -moving cause of this fancy is exceedingly puerile, but I propose to tell -it to you. -</p> -<p> -I do not know whether you remember, assuming that you do me the honor to -read me, that I placed before you last year a novel entitled <i>The Sin of -Monsieur Antoine</i>, the scene of which was laid on the banks of the -Creuse, and especially among the ruins of the ancient château of -Châteaubrun. Now that château exists, and I drive thither at least -once in every year, although it is about ten leagues from my own home. -This year I was very coldly received by the old peasant woman who has -charge of the ruins. -</p> -<p> -"Look you!" she cried, in her half-Berrichon, half-Marchois patois, "I -don't think much of you; my name is not <i>Janille</i>, but <i>Jennie</i>. -I haven't got any daughter, and I don't lead my master round by the nose. -My master don't wear a blouse; you lied about him. I never saw him in a -blouse, etc., etc. I don't know how to read, but I do know that you've -been writing lies about my master and me. I have no liking for you now." -</p> -<p> -This harangue apprized me that there still lives, not far from the ruins -of Châteaubrun, an old man named Châteaubrun, who never wears a -blouse. That is all that I know about him. -</p> -<p> -But it proved to me that I must needs be most circumspect when writing -of La Marche and Berry. That was at least the tenth time that something -of that sort had happened to me, and every time persons bearing the name -of some of my characters, or living in the localities I have described, -have flown into a passion with me and accused me of slandering them, not -deigning to believe that I took their names by chance, and that I did -not know of their existence. -</p> -<p> -To give them time to become calm again, before I return to that region, -I propose to make an excursion to Sicily. But how shall I avoid making -use of a name that belongs to some inhabitant or some portion of that -celebrated island? A Sicilian hero cannot be called Durand or Wolf, nor -do I find on the map of the country any name which rhymes with Pontoise -or Baden-Baden. I really must baptize my actors and my stage with names -that have some rhyme in <i>a</i>, <i>o</i> or <i>i</i>. I will take -those which are easiest to pronounce, so far as is possible, without -much heed to geographical accuracy, declaring beforehand that I do not -know a cat in Sicily, even by reputation; so that I cannot possibly -intend to point at any particular person. -</p> -<p> -Having made this statement, I am free to choose, and the choice of names -is the most embarrassing question that confronts a novelist who wishes -to become sincerely attached to the characters he creates. In the first -place, I need a princess who has a resounding name, one of those which -give you an exalted idea of the person who bears it; and there are such -lovely names in that country! Acalia, Madonia, Valcorrente, Valverde, -Primosole, Tremisteri, etc.—they all ring true on the ear, like -perfect chords. But if perchance there has ever happened in any of the -patrician families which bear the names of those seignorial localities, -an adventure like that which I am about to describe—a delicate -adventure, I confess—why, I am sure to be accused once more of -evil-speaking or calumny. Luckily, Catania is very far away; my novels -do not, in all probability, pass the lighthouse of Messina, and I trust -that the new pope will do in charity what his predecessor did without -knowing why: that is to say, keep me in the Index; then I shall be -entirely at liberty to speak of Italy, certain that Italy, and with -still stronger reason Sicily, will never suspect it. -</p> -<p> -Consequently my princess shall be called the Princess of Palmarosa. I -defy you to find sweeter sounds or a more flowery meaning in any name in -any novel. And now for her Christian name, we must think of that. We -will call her Agatha, because St. Agatha is the revered patron saint of -Catania. But I will urge the reader to pronounce the name <i>Agata</i>, -even if I should happen inadvertently to write it in French, otherwise he -will miss the local coloring. -</p> -<p> -My hero's name shall be Michelangelo Lavoratori, but we must never -confound him with the illustrious Michelangelo Buonarotti, who died at -least two hundred years before my man's birth. -</p> -<p> -As for the period in which the events are supposed to take -place—another unpleasant incident of the beginning of a -novel—you are entirely at liberty to select it yourself, dear -reader. But inasmuch as our characters will be actuated by ideas now in -circulation in the world, and as it would be impossible for me to speak -to you as I should like to do of the men of past ages, I fancy that the -story of the Princess Agatha of Palmarosa and Michelangelo Lavoratori -belongs somewhere between 1810 and 1840. Fix the precise year, day, and -hour at which we begin our narrative to suit yourself; it is a matter of -indifference to me, for my novel is neither historical nor descriptive, -nor does it pride itself at all upon being exact in either respect. -</p> -<p> -On the day in question—it was in autumn and broad daylight, if you -please—Michelangelo Lavoratori was descending diagonally across the -gorges and ravines which alternate with each other from the slopes of -Ætna to the fertile plain of Catania. He was coming from Rome; he had -crossed the Strait of Messina, he had followed the highroad as far as -Taormina. There, intoxicated by the grandeur of the spectacle which his -eyes beheld in all directions, and uncertain whether to choose the -seashore or the mountains, he had gone forward to some extent at random, -torn between his impatience to embrace his father and sister, whom he -had not seen for a year, and the temptation to go a little nearer the -gigantic volcano, compared to which it seemed to him, as to Spallanzani, -that Vesuvius is simply a parlor volcano. -</p> -<p> -As he was alone and on foot, he had lost his way more than once in that -wild region, intersected by vast streams of lava which form on all sides -steep mountains and valleys filled with luxuriant vegetation. One -travels far and makes very little progress when he must constantly -ascend and descend over a distance quadrupled in length by natural -obstacles. Michel had taken two days to travel the ten leagues, more or -less, which lie between Taormina and Catania as the crow flies; but at -last he was drawing near his journey's end, indeed, he had arrived; for, -after crossing the Cantaro and passing through Mascarello, Piano-Grande, -Valverde, and Mascalucia, he had at last left Santa-Agata on his right -and Ficarazzi on his left. Therefore he was only about a mile from the -suburbs of the city; if he had walked a quarter of an hour more, he -would have reached the end of the adventures of a pedestrian journey, -during which, despite the fascination and the enthusiastic admiration -which such natural scenery inspires in a young artist, he had suffered -considerably from heat in the ravines, from cold on the mountain-tops, -from hunger, and from fatigue. -</p> -<p> -But, as he skirted the wall of a vast park, on the slope of the last -hill which he still had to cross, and as, with his eyes fixed on the -city and the harbor, he quickened his pace to make up for lost time, he -stumbled over the stump of an olive-tree. The pain caused by the blow -was most acute; for, after two days' travelling over sharp slag, and -pozzuolana as hot as red-hot ashes, his shoes were sadly worn and his -feet cruelly bruised and sore. -</p> -<p> -Being compelled to stop, he found himself in front of a niche in the -wall, containing a madonna. This little chapel, sheltered by a stone -projection and provided with a bench, offered a hospitable resting-place -to wayfarers, and to beggars, monks, and others a convenient station at -the very door of the <i>villa</i>, of which our traveller could descry the -handsome buildings through the orange-trees planted in a triple row -along an avenue of considerable length. -</p> -<p> -Michel, more annoyed than cast down by this sudden hurt, dropped his -travelling satchel, seated himself on the bench, and rubbed his injured -foot, but soon forgot it to lose himself in meditation. -</p> -<p> -In order that the reader may understand the reflections which his -surroundings suggested to the young man, it is essential that I should -introduce him somewhat more fully. Michel was eighteen years of age and -was a student of painting at Rome. His father, Pier-Angelo Lavoratori, -was a mere dauber, a decorator, but very skilful in his line. And, as is -well known, in Italy the artisans whose business it is to cover walls -and ceilings with frescoes are almost all genuine artists. Whether from -tradition, or from natural good taste, they produce some very attractive -decorations; and in the most modest abodes, even in wretched taverns, -the eye is charmed by wreaths and rosework done in a fascinating style, -or it may be by borders simply, the coloring of which is happily -contrasted with the dull tints of the panels and wainscoting. These -frescoes are sometimes executed as perfectly as our wall-papers, and -they are much superior to them, in this respect, that one detects in -them the greater ease of manner of work done by hand. Nothing can be -more dismal than the stiff and regular decorations produced by -machinery. The beauty of Chinese vases, and, indeed, of Chinese work in -general, is attributable to that capricious air of spontaneity which the -human hand alone can impart to its work. Grace, freedom, boldness, the -unexpected, and even ingenuous awkwardness are, in decoration, elements -of charm which we are losing day by day, as we depend more and more upon -the resources of machinery and looms. -</p> -<p> -Pier-Angelo was one of the most rapid and ingenious of these -decorators—<i>adornatori</i>. He was a native of Catania, and had -reared his family there until the period of Michel's birth, when he -abruptly left his province and settled in Rome. The reason he assigned -for this voluntary exile was that his family was increasing in size, -that there was too much competition in Catania, and that consequently -his work no longer sufficed for his needs; wherefore he proposed to seek -his fortune elsewhere. But people said under their breath that he had -fled from the resentment of certain all-powerful patricians who were -devoted to the court of Naples. -</p> -<p> -Everyone knows the bitter hatred of that conquered and down-trodden -people for the government on the other side of the strait. The Sicilian, -proud and revengeful, rumbles incessantly like his volcano, and -sometimes erupts. It was whispered that Pier-Angelo had been involved in -an attempt at a popular uprising, and that he had been obliged to fly, -carrying with him his brushes and his household goods. To be sure, his -social and kindly temperament seemed to contradict such a supposition; -but the lively imaginations of the good people of the suburb of Catania -must needs devise an extraordinary motive for the disappearance of one -so loved and regretted by all his confrères. -</p> -<p> -At Rome he was hardly more fortunate, for he had the sorrow of losing -all his children there except Michel; and ere long his wife died in -giving birth to a daughter, whose young brother was her godfather, and -who received the name of Mila, a contraction of Michelangela. -</p> -<p> -Having lost these two children, Pier-Angelo, albeit more melancholy, was -much more at ease financially, and by dint of earnest work, he succeeded -in giving his son an education far superior to that which he had himself -received. He displayed a predilection for that boy which almost amounted -to weakness, and Michel, although poor and obscure, was a veritable -spoiled child. -</p> -<p> -Now, Pier-Angelo had spurred on his other sons to work, and had imparted -to them early in life the ardor which was consuming him. But, whether -because they had succumbed to excessive toil for which they had not -received from Heaven the same aptitude and strength as their father, or -because Pier-Angelo, finding his family reduced to three persons, no -longer deemed it necessary to have assistance, it is certain that he -seemed more anxious to handle tenderly the health of his last remaining -son, than to provide him betimes with a means of livelihood. -</p> -<p> -Nevertheless, the child loved painting, and in play produced fruit, -flowers, and birds, in which the coloring was exquisite. One day he -asked his father why he never introduced figures in his frescoes. -</p> -<p> -"What do you say? figures?" replied the good man, who had an abundance -of common sense: "one must paint very beautiful ones, or else let them -alone. Figure painting is beyond such talent as I have been able to -acquire, and whereas people think well of my garlands and arabesques, I -should be very sure of making connoisseurs laugh if I should attempt to -represent limping cupids or hump-backed nymphs dancing on my ceilings." -</p> -<p> -"Suppose I should try!" said the child, whom nothing daunted. -</p> -<p> -"Try on paper, and however successful you may be for your years, you -will soon see that you must learn before you know." -</p> -<p> -Michel tried. Pier-Angelo showed his son's sketches to some -connoisseurs, and to some painters too, who saw that the child had much -talent, and that it would be well for him not to be confined too closely -to the drudgery of mixing colors. Thereupon, Pier-Angelo determined to -make a painter of him, sent him to one of the best studios in Rome, and -relieved him entirely from preparing colors and daubing walls. -</p> -<p> -"One of two things will happen," he said to himself with good reason; -"either the child will become a master, or, if he has only trifling -talent, he will come back to the trade of decorating with knowledge that -I do not possess, and he will be a workman of the first order in his -line. In either case he will have a freer and more comfortable life than -mine." -</p> -<p> -Not that Pier-Angelo was dissatisfied with his lot. He was blest with -that improvidence, that recklessness, one might say, which are -characteristic of the most laborious and most robust men. He always -relied upon destiny, perhaps because he relied most of all upon his -strong arms and his courage. But as he was a very shrewd and intelligent -observer, he had already detected in Michel the gleam of a spark of -ambition which his other children had never had. He drew the conclusion -that the measure of happiness with which he had been content would not -suffice for that more delicately balanced organism. Tolerant to excess, -and thoroughly convinced that every man has aptitudes which no other man -can estimate accurately, he respected Michel's impulses and inclinations -as manifestations of the will of Heaven, and therein was no less -imprudent than generous. -</p> -<p> -For that blind complaisance was certain to lead, and did in fact lead to -this result—that Michelangelo became accustomed never to suffer, -never to be thwarted, and to look upon his own personality as more -important and more interesting than that of other people. He often -mistook his caprices for desires, and his desires for rights. Moreover, -he was attacked early in life by the disease peculiar to fortunate -mortals, that is to say, the fear that they may not always be so -fortunate; and in the midst of his progress he was often paralyzed by -the fear of failing. A vague disquietude seized upon him, and as he was -naturally energetic and bold, it sometimes made him sullen and -irritable. -</p> -<p> -But we shall obtain a better conception of his character by following -him in the reflections he made at the gates of Catania, in the little -chapel in which he had taken his seat. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap02"></a>II -<br><br> -THE TRAVELLER'S STORY -</h4> - -<p> -I have forgotten to tell you, and it is important that you should know, -why Michel had been separated from his father and sister for a year -past. -</p> -<p> -Although he earned his living readily at Rome, and despite his happy -temperament, Pier-Angelo had never been able to accustom himself to -living abroad, far from his cherished fatherland. Like the genuine -islander he was, he regarded Sicily as a land favored by Heaven in every -respect, and the mainland as a place of exile. When the Catanians speak -of the terrible volcano which overwhelms and ruins them so often, they -carry love of country so far as to say: <i>Our Ætna</i>!—"Ah!" said -Pier-Angelo, on the day that he passed near the lava fields of Vesuvius, -"if you had seen our famous Catanian wave! that was grand and wonderful! -You would never dare to mention yours again!" He referred to the -terrible eruption of 1669, which sent a river of fire to the very centre -of the city, and destroyed half of the population and buildings. The -destruction of Pompeii and Herculaneum seemed to him a jest.—"Psha!" -he would say proudly, "I have seen bigger earthquakes! You should come to -our home if you want to know what an earthquake is!" -</p> -<p> -In fact, he sighed incessantly for the moment when he could see again -his dear furnace and its beloved gate of hell. -</p> -<p> -When Michel and Mila, who were accustomed to his cheerful humor, saw -that he was pensive and downcast, they were grieved and disturbed, as -always happens with respect to persons with whom mental depression is a -rare phenomenon. Thereupon he confessed to his children that he was -thinking of his native land. "If I were not in excellent health," he -said, "and if I did not constantly argue with myself, homesickness would -have killed me long ago." -</p> -<p> -But when his children spoke to him of returning to Sicily, he would wave -his hands in a significant way, as if to say: "I cannot cross the strait -again; I should escape Charybdis only to fall into Scylla." -</p> -<p> -Once or twice he inadvertently said to them: "Prince Dionigi died a long -while ago, but his brother Hieronymo is still living." And when his -children questioned him as to what reason he had to fear Prince -Hieronymo, he shook his finger and said: "Hush! I should not even have -mentioned those princes before you." -</p> -<p> -But it happened one day that Pier-Angelo, being at work in a certain -palace in Rome, picked up a newspaper which he found on the floor, and -showing it to Michel, who had looked in upon him on his way from the -Museum of Painting, he exclaimed: "What a misfortune it is for me not to -know how to read! I will bet that there is news from my dear Sicily in -this paper. Look, look, Michel, what is this word here? I would swear -that it was Catania. Yes, yes, I can read that name! Come, look and tell -me what is going on at Catania in these days." Michel glanced at the -paper, and saw that it was proposed to light the principal streets of -Catania with hydrogen gas. -</p> -<p> -"Great Heaven!" ejaculated Pier-Angelo; "think of seeing Ætna by -gaslight! How beautiful that will be!" -</p> -<p> -And he threw his cap up to the ceiling in his joy. -</p> -<p> -"There is more news," said the young man, looking over the paper. "The -Prince-Cardinal Hieronymo of Palmarosa has been obliged to suspend the -exercise of the important functions which the Neapolitan government has -entrusted to him. His eminence has been stricken by paralysis, and his -life is deemed to be in danger. Pending a definite decision from the -medical profession concerning the mental and physical condition of that -noble personage, the government has entrusted his functions temporarily -to his excellency, the Marquis of——" -</p> -<p> -"What do I care to whom?" cried Pier-Angelo, snatching the paper from -his son's hands with extraordinary excitement, "Prince Hieronymo is off to -join his brother Dionigi in the tomb, and we are saved!"—Then, after -trying to spell out Prince Hieronymo's name for himself, as if he feared -that his son might have made a mistake, he returned the journal to him -and bade him read the paragraph again, very carefully and very slowly. -</p> -<p> -When this was done, Pier-Angelo crossed himself devoutly. -</p> -<p> -"O Providence!" he cried, "Thou hast permitted old Pier-Angelo to -witness the extinction of his persecutors, and to return to his native -city! Embrace me, Michel! this event is of no less importance to you -than to me. Whatever happens, remember that Pier-Angelo Lavoratori has -been a good father to you!" -</p> -<p> -"What do you mean, father? Are you still in any danger? If you must -return to Sicily, I will go with you." -</p> -<p> -"We will talk of that later, Michel. Meanwhile, silence!—Forget -everything, even the words that have escaped me." -</p> -<p> -Two days later, Pier-Angelo folded his tents and started for Catania -with his daughter. He would not consent to take Michel, despite the -latter's earnest entreaties. -</p> -<p> -"No," he said, "I am not certain that I shall be able to settle at -Catania, for I had the papers read to me again this morning, and they -don't say that Cardinal Hieronymo is dead. They don't mention him at -all. A personage so favored by the government, and so rich, could not -recover or die without a great sensation. So I conclude that he is still -alive, but that he is a little better. His temporary substitute is a -most excellent nobleman, a true patriot, and a friend of the people. I -have nothing to fear from the police so long as we have him to deal -with. But if by a miracle this Prince Hieronymo should come back to life -and health, I should have to return to Rome at once; and in that case -what good would it have done to make you take this journey, which would -interrupt your studies?" -</p> -<p> -"But," said Michel, "why not wait until this prince's fate is decided, -before you start yourself? I have no idea what you have to fear from him -and from your presence in Catania, father; for you have never chosen to -explain yourself clearly in that respect; but it alarms me to have you -start, all alone but for this child, for a land where you are not -certain of being well received. I know that the police officials of -absolute governments are suspicious and troublesome; and if you had -nothing worse to fear than a temporary imprisonment, even then what -would become of our little Mila, all alone in a city where you no longer -have any acquaintances? Let me go with you, in heaven's name! I will be -Mila's protector and defender, and when I see that you are comfortably -settled and in no danger, then I will return to Rome and resume my -studies, if you care to remain in Sicily." -</p> -<p> -"Yes, Michel, I know, I understand," replied Pier-Angelo. "You have no -wish to remain in Sicily, and your youthful ambition would be -ill-content with a long stay in an island which you believe to be -destitute of all resources and monuments of art. You are mistaken; we -have such noble monuments! Palermo fairly swarms with them. Ætna is the -grandest spectacle that nature can offer to a painter, and we have -painters, too. Morales filled our fatherland with masterpieces worthy to -be compared with those of Rome and Florence!" -</p> -<p> -"Excuse me, father," said Michel, smiling, "Morales is not to be -compared with Raphael, Michelangelo, or any of the masters of the -Florentine school." -</p> -<p> -"What do you know about it? That is just like children. You have never -seen his great works, his best pieces; you will see them in Sicily. And -such a climate! such skies! such fruit! A veritable land of promise!" -</p> -<p> -"Very well, father, permit me to go there with you," said Michel. "That -is precisely what I ask." -</p> -<p> -"No, no!" cried Pier-Angelo, earnestly. "I forgot myself in sounding the -praises of Catania, and I do not want you to go there with me now. I -know that your loving heart and your anxiety for us urge you to it; but -I know also that your real inclination does not lie that way. I want the -desire to come to you naturally, when the hour of your destiny has -struck, and when you will kiss the soil of your fatherland with love, -instead of treading it, as you would do to-day, with disdain." -</p> -<p> -"These reasons are of little weight, father, in view of the anxiety I -shall feel during your absence. I prefer to be bored and waste my time -in Sicily, rather than to let you go there without me and pass my time -here dreaming of dangers and disasters." -</p> -<p> -"Thanks my child, and farewell!" said the old man, embracing him -affectionately. "If I must tell you explicitly, I cannot take you. Here -is half of all the money I possess; be careful of it until I am able to -send you more. You can depend upon it that I shall not waste my time at -Catania, and that I will work energetically to procure the means for you -to continue your painting. I shall need time for the journey and to get -settled; after which I shall find plenty of work, for I had many friends -and patrons in my country, and I know that I shall find some of them -there still. Do not dream of dangers and disasters. I will be prudent; -and although duplicity and fear are not my ordinary failings, I have too -much Sicilian blood in my veins not to be able to display the cunning of -an old fox, at need. I know Ætna as well as I know my own pocket, and -its ravines are deep enough to keep a poor fellow like me hidden for a -long while. Besides, I have maintained friendly relations with my -kinsfolk, as you know. I have a brother a Capuchin, who is a <i>great -man</i>. Mila will find shelter and protection with them, if need be. I -will write to you—that is to say your sister will write for -me—as often as possible, and you shall not be left long in -uncertainty as to our fate. Do not mention the names of the Princes of -Palmarosa, unless we mention them to you first." -</p> -<p> -"And meanwhile," said Michel, "shall I not know what I have to fear or -to hope from these princes?" -</p> -<p> -"You? nothing, upon my word," replied Pier-Angelo; "but you do not know -Sicily; you would not have the prudence that is absolutely necessary in -countries that are subjected to foreigners. You have the ideas of a -young man, all the ardent ideas which circulate here in Rome, under the -cloak of lax administration, but which, in Sicily, are hidden and held -in reserve under the ashes of the volcanoes. You would compromise me, -and they would manufacture a conspiracy against the court of Naples out -of a single phrase thoughtlessly uttered by you in your fervent -liberalism. Farewell once more; do not detain me. I must see my country -once more! You have no idea what it means to me to have been born at -Catania, and to have been away eighteen years; or, rather, you do not -understand it, for it is true that you were born at Catania yourself, -and that the story of my exile is the story of yours! But you were -brought up at Rome, and you look upon Rome as your country, alas!" -</p> -<p> -A month later Michel received, by the hand of a mechanic who arrived in -Rome from Sicily, a letter from Mila, which informed him that their -journey was most successful; that they had been welcomed with open arms -by their relations and former friends; that Pier-Angelo had found work -and valuable patronage; but that the cardinal was still living, although -not greatly to be feared, because he had withdrawn from the world and -from public affairs. However, Pier-Angelo did not wish Michel to join -him, for no one knew <i>what might happen</i>. -</p> -<p> -Until then Michel had been depressed and anxious, for he loved his -father and sister dearly; but, as soon as his mind was at rest with -respect to them, he involuntarily rejoiced that he was at Rome and not -at Catania. His life there had been very pleasant since his father had -permitted him to devote himself to painting. Favored by his masters, who -were attracted to him not only because of his happy aptitude, but also -because of a certain elevation of mind and of language above his years -and his condition, received in the society of young men much richer and -more aristocratic than he—and we must admit that he was much more -accessible to their advances than to those of the sons of artisans, his -equals—he devoted his leisure to the cultivation of his brain and the -enlargement of his circle of ideas. He read rapidly and greedily, he -frequented the theatres, he conversed with artists; in a word, he -prepared himself wonderfully well for a free and noble existence, to -which, however, he was by no means certain that he could properly -aspire. -</p> -<p> -For the resources of the poor painter in distemper, who sent half of his -wages to him, were not inexhaustible. Illness might put an end to them -at any time, and painting is so serious and profound an art that one -must study many years before one can hope to make profitable use of it. -</p> -<p> -This thought terrified Michel, and sometimes cast him into the deepest -dejection. "O father!" he was saying to himself, when we met him at the -gate of a palace near his native town: "Did you not, through excessive -affection for me, do yourself as well as me a great injury, by urging me -on in the pathway of ambition? I do not know if I shall succeed, yet I -feel that it will be very hard for me to resume the life which you lead, -and for which fortune destined me. I am not so strong as you; I am a -degenerate in the matter of physical strength, which is the stamp of -nobility of our race. I cannot walk, I am fatigued beyond measure by -what would be simply healthy exercise for you, at sixty years of age. -And here am I used up, wounded in the foot, by my own fault, by reason -of my absent-mindedness or my awkwardness. And yet I was born among -these mountains, and I see children running over these sharp lava beds -as I would walk on a carpet. Yes, my father was right, this is a -beautiful fatherland; one may well be proud of having issued like the -lava, from the sides of yonder terrible mountain! But one should be -wholly, not half worthy of such a glorious origin. He should be a great -man and fill the world with peals of thunder and lightning flashes; or -else he should be a stout-hearted peasant or a determined brigand, and -live in the desert, without other resource than a carbine and a pitiless -heart. That too is a poetic destiny. But it is too late for me; I have -learned too many things, I know the laws, society and mankind too well. -That which is heroism in these artless and uncivilized mountaineers -would be cowardice and crime in me. My conscience would reproach me for -having succeeded in attaining grandeur by genius and the gifts of -civilization, and for having relapsed, from impotence, to a condition of -brigandage. So I should have to live an obscure, insignificant life!" -</p> -<p> -Let us leave Michel for a little while to nurse and rub his aching foot, -and inform the reader why, despite his love for Rome and the pleasant -days he passed there, he found himself now at the gates of Catania. -</p> -<p> -From month to month his sister had written to him, at her father's -dictation: "You cannot come yet, and we cannot make any decision -concerning our own future. The sick man is as well as a man can be who -has lost the use of his arms and his legs. But his head still lives and -retains a remnant of power. Here is some money; be careful of it, my -child; for, although I have all the work I want, wages are lower here -than at Rome." -</p> -<p> -Michel tried to be careful of the money, which represented to him the -sweat of his father's brow. He quivered with shame and dismay when his -young sister, who worked at spinning silk—a very common industry in -that part of Sicily,—secretly added a gold piece to her father's -remittance. Evidently the poor child subjected herself to great -privations to obtain for her brother the wherewithal to amuse himself -for an hour. Michel vowed that he would not touch those gold pieces, but -would save them and carry back to Mila all her little savings. -</p> -<p> -But Michel loved pleasure; he craved a certain amount of luxury, and he -did not know how to save. He had princely tastes, that is to say, he -loved to give, and rewarded handsomely any <i>facchino</i> who brought him -a picture or a letter. And then too, painting materials are very -expensive. Again, when Michel was in the company of wealthy young men, -he would have blushed not to pay his scot like the rest. So that he ran -in debt to a small amount, albeit very large for the budget of a poor -decorator. There came a time when, the debt imitating the snow-ball, it -became necessary for him either to fly in disgrace or to resign himself -to take up some more humble occupation than historical painting. -Trembling with rage and grief, Michel sacrificed the gold pieces which -he had determined to carry back to Mila some day. But, finding that he -was still far from solvent, he confessed everything in a letter to his -father, blaming himself with something very like despair. A week later a -banker forwarded to the young man the sum necessary to pay his debt, and -to live some time longer on the same footing. Then came a letter from -Mila, who said, still at Pier-Angelo's dictation: "A kind friend lent me -the money I have sent to you; but I shall have to work six months to -repay the loan. Try, my son, not to run in debt again until then, for if -you do we shall have arrears of indebtedness which we can never -discharge." -</p> -<p> -Although Michel had never been reprimanded by his father, he expected -something in the nature of a rebuke this time. When he realized the -excellent man's inexhaustible kindness and philosophic courage, he was -heartbroken, and though unable to blame himself for errors into which -his position had irresistibly led him, he did blame himself, as for a -crime, for having accepted that too brilliant position. He formed a -mighty resolution, and was assisted in carrying it out by the idea that -he was consummating a great sacrifice, and that if he had not the making -of a great painter in him, he had at all events the heroism of a great -character. Thus vanity had much to say in this effort of his will, but -it was an ingenuous and noble vanity. He paid his debts and bade his -friends farewell, announcing his purpose to abandon painting and to work -with his father at his trade. -</p> -<p> -Then, without informing his father of his coming, he packed in a bag a -few choice clothes, a sketch-book, and a number of boxes of -water-colors, not realizing that those symbols of luxury and art showed -that he carried the thought of luxury and art with him; and he started -for Catania, where we have seen him on the point of arriving. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap03"></a>III -<br><br> -MONSIGNORE -</h4> - -<p> -Despite this heroic renunciation of all the dreams of his youth, poor -Michel experienced at that moment a sort of grief-stricken dismay. The -journey had diverted his thoughts from the consequences of his -sacrifice. The sight of Ætna had exalted his imagination. The joy he -felt at the thought of seeing his excellent father and his dear little -sister had sustained his courage. But this unlucky accident of a -trifling wound in the foot, and the necessity of halting for an instant, -gave him leisure for reflection for the first time since he had left -Rome. -</p> -<p> -Moreover, that was an exceedingly solemn moment to his youthful mind. He -saw before him the domes of his native city, one of the loveliest cities -in the world, even to him who comes from Rome, and the one of all others -whose location is most imposing to the eye. -</p> -<p> -This city, so many times devastated by the volcano, is not very ancient, -and the style of the seventeenth century, which prevails in its -buildings, has not the grandeur or the pure taste of earlier periods. -Nevertheless, Catania, built upon an extensive plan and of antique -spaciousness, is of a Greek type, taken as a whole. The sombre color of -the lava from which it has risen again and again after being swallowed -up by it, as if it had found the seeds of renewed life in its own ashes, -after the manner of the phœnix, the open plain which surrounds it, and -the cruel reefs of lava which have taken root in its harbor, as if to -darken with their stern shadow even the shimmer of the -waves—everything about the city is majestic and melancholy. -</p> -<p> -But it was not the aspect of the place that engrossed the thoughts of -our young traveller. His own plight made it seem to him more gloomy and -terror-inspiring than it had been made by the passage of the flames that -belched forth from the cave of the Cyclops. He saw before him a place of -trials and of expiation, in face of which a cold perspiration burst from -every pore. It was there that he was about to bid farewell to the world -of art, to the society of enlightened men, to unchecked reveries, and to -the studious leisure of the artist summoned to an exalted destiny. It -was there that he must resume, after ten years of a highly-favored -existence, the artisan's apron, the hateful sizing-pot, the conventional -festoon, the decoration of reception rooms and corridors. And, worse -than all the rest, it was there that he would have to work twelve hours -a day and go to bed exhausted, lacking time and strength to read or muse -in a picture gallery; there that he must resign himself to do without -other society than that of the Sicilian common people, so poor and so -unclean that the poetic charm of his features and his intellect could -scarcely penetrate the rags and degradation of poverty. In a word, the -gate of Catania was, to that poor exile, the gate of the accursed city -described by Dante. -</p> -<p> -At the thought, a torrent of tears, long held in check or turned aside, -rushed from his eyes, and whoever had seen him thus, young, comely, -pale, seated outside the gate of a palace, with his hand lying -carelessly upon his injured foot, would inevitably have thought of the -gladiator of old, wounded in combat, but weeping for his defeat rather -than for the pain. -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> -<a id="figure01"></a> -<br> -<img src="images/figure01.jpg" width="300" alt="300"> -<div class="caption"> -<p><i>THE CARDINAL'S ESCORT.</i></p> -<p class="smaller"> -<i>The bells of a number of mules ascending the -hill, and the appearance of a strange caravan coming -directly toward him, forcibly changed the current of -Michelangelo Lavoratori's reflections.</i></p> -</div></div> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -The bells of a number of mules ascending the hill, and the appearance of -a strange caravan coming directly toward him, forcibly changed the -current of Michelangelo Lavoratori's reflections. The mules were superb -creatures, richly caparisoned and decorated with plumes. On their long -purple saddle-cloths gleamed the insignia of the cardinalate, the triple -cross of gold, surmounted by the little hat and tassels. They were laden -with baggage and led by servants dressed in black, with gloomy, -suspicious faces; then came abbés and other ecclesiastics, with black -short-clothes, red stockings and large silver buckles on their shoes; -some on horseback, others in litters. A very stout individual, in a -black coat, with his hair in a bag, a diamond on his finger, and a sword -at his side, rode gravely upon a magnificent ass. From his air of -importance, somewhat more candid than the crafty expressions of the -churchmen who surrounded him, he could readily be identified as his -eminence's physician. He escorted his eminence himself, who was carried -in a chair, or rather in a great box, by two powerful men, beside whom -walked four relay bearers. The whole procession consisted of about forty -persons, and the uselessness of each one of them could be measured by -the rapt meditation and humility depicted on his face. -</p> -<p> -Michel, deeply interested in the passage of this procession which -surpassed all that Rome had to offer in that direction, that was most -classic and superannuated, rose and stood near the gateway, in order to -obtain a nearer view of the principal personage's face. He was the -better able to gratify his curiosity, as the bearers halted in front of -the enormous gilded gate, while a sort of abbé, with a repulsive -countenance, dismounted and opened the gate himself with an air of -authority and a peculiar smile. -</p> -<p> -The cardinal was a man far advanced in years, who had once been -corpulent and florid, but was now pale and emaciated, as the result of -gradual and cruel decay. The skin upon his face, once tightly stretched, -now relaxed, hung in innumerable folds, and imparted to the face a -strong resemblance to a field furrowed by the passage of a torrent. -Despite these ghastly evidences of decomposition, there was a trace of -imperious beauty upon those lifeless features, which could not or would -not make the faintest movement, but amid which two great black eyes -still glowed, the last sanctuary of a stubborn vitality. -</p> -<p> -The contrast between the stern, piercing glance and the corpse-like face -impressed Michel so strongly that he could not avoid a feeling of -respect, and he instinctively bared his head before that feeble remnant -of a powerful will. Everything that indicated a forceful, imperious -nature produced its effect upon that young man's imagination, because he -was himself ambitious of power and authority, and, except for the gleam -of those tyrannical eyes, it is doubtful if it would have occurred to -him to remove his straw hat. -</p> -<p> -But, as his modest garb and his dusty shoes indicated a man of the -people rather than a great painter in embryo, the cardinal's people and -the cardinal himself naturally expected to see him kneel, which he did -not do, and his neglect scandalized them terribly. -</p> -<p> -The cardinal was the first to notice it, and as his bearers were about -to pass through the gate, he made a sign with his eyebrows which was -instantly read by his physician, who rode always beside him, and was -ordered to keep his eyes always fixed upon those of his eminence. -</p> -<p> -The doctor had just enough wit to understand from the cardinal's -expression that he wished to manifest some desire or other; so he -ordered a halt, and advised Abbé Ninfo, his eminence's secretary, the -same who had opened the gate with his own hand, and with a key taken -from his own pocket. The abbé hastened forward, as he had done before, -and placed his body in front of the door of the chair in such way as to -conceal it from the rest of the procession. Thereupon there took place -between his eminence and him a mysterious dialogue, so mysterious that -no one could say whether his eminence made himself understood by speech, -or simply by the play of his features. Ordinarily the paralytic -dignitary uttered nothing more than unintelligible grunts, which became -a frightful roar when he was angry; but Abbé Ninfo understood those -grunts so well, when assisted by his eminence's expressive glance and -his intimate knowledge of his character and designs, that he interpreted -his master's wishes and ordered them executed with an intelligence, a -rapidity and a careful attention to details which bordered on the -marvellous. Indeed it seemed altogether too supernatural to be accepted -as genuine by the other subordinate priests, and they declared that his -eminence had retained the power of speech, but that by virtue of the -most profound diplomacy, he preferred not to use that power except with -Abbé Ninfo. Doctor Recuperati asserted however that his eminence's -tongue was paralyzed as completely as his arms and legs, and that the -only living portions of his being were the organs of the brain and of -the digestion. "With those," he said, "a man may live to be a hundred -years old, aye, and shake the world, as Jupiter shook Olympus, simply by -contracting his eyebrow." -</p> -<p> -The result of the strange dialogue between Abbé Ninfo's sharp eyes and -the eloquent eyebrows of his eminence, was that the abbé turned -suddenly to Michel and motioned to him to draw near. Michel was strongly -tempted to do nothing of the sort, and to compel the abbé to walk to -him; but the Sicilian spirit suddenly awoke in him, and he stood on his -guard. He recalled all that his father had told him of the dangers to be -dreaded from the wrath of a certain cardinal, and, although he could not -tell whether the man before him was paralyzed or not, it suddenly -occurred to him that he might very well be Cardinal Hieronymo, of -Palmarosa. Thereupon he determined to dissemble, and he approached the -gilded, decorated chair adorned with his eminence's crest. -</p> -<p> -"What are you doing at this gate?" the abbé demanded in a surly tone. -"Are you of the household?" -</p> -<p> -"No, your excellency," replied Michel, with apparent tranquillity, -although he was tempted to strike his questioner. "I am passing by." -</p> -<p> -The abbé glanced into the chair, and apparently he was given to -understand that it was useless to intimidate wayfarers, for he suddenly -changed his tone and manner as he turned again to Michel. -</p> -<p> -"My friend," he said benignantly, "you seem unfortunate; are you a -mechanic?" -</p> -<p> -"Yes, your excellency," said Michel, resolved to speak as little as -possible. -</p> -<p> -"And you are fatigued? you have come a long distance?" -</p> -<p> -"Yes, your excellency." -</p> -<p> -"But you are strong for your years. How old are you?" -</p> -<p> -"Twenty-one." -</p> -<p> -Michel could safely risk that falsehood; for, although he had as yet no -beard on his chin, he had attained his full growth, and his active and -restless brain had already caused him to lose the first bloom of youth. -In this last reply he complied with a special injunction which his -father had laid upon him when they parted, and which came to his mind -most opportunely: "If you come to Sicily to join me one day or another," -said old Pier-Angelo, "remember that, until you have actually joined me, -you must not say a word of truth in reply to people who seem to you -curious and inquisitive. Tell them neither your name, nor your age, nor -your profession, nor mine, nor whence you come, nor whither you are -going. The police are more meddlesome than shrewd. Lie boldly and have -no fear." -</p> -<p> -"If my father should hear me," thought Michel, after he had thus -distinguished himself, "he would be satisfied with me." -</p> -<p> -"It is well," said the abbé, and he stepped away from the prelate's -door, so that the latter could see the poor devil who had thus attracted -his attention. Michel's eyes met the moribund's terrible glance, and he -thereupon felt more distrust and aversion than respect for that narrow -and despotic brow. Warned by an inward presentiment that he was in a -dangerous position, he changed the customary expression of his face, and -substituting sheepishness for pride therein, he bent his knee, hung his -head in order to escape the prelate's scrutiny, and pretended to await -his benediction. -</p> -<p> -"His eminence blesses you mentally," said the abbé, after consulting -the cardinal's eyes, and he motioned to the bearers to go forward. -</p> -<p> -The chair passed through the gateway and proceeded slowly along the -avenue. -</p> -<p> -"I would like well to know," thought Michel, as he looked after the -procession, "whether my instinct deceived me, or whether that man is the -enemy of my family." -</p> -<p> -He was about to continue his journey, when he observed that Abbé Ninfo -had not followed the cardinal, but was waiting until the last mule had -passed, in order to lock the gate and restore the key to his pocket. -This strange caretaking on the part of a man so close to the cardinal -was well calculated to make an impression on him, and the keen, sidelong -glance which that unattractive personage stealthily bestowed upon him -impressed him even more. -</p> -<p> -"It is evident that I am already watched in this unhappy country," he -thought; "and that my father did not dream of the enmities against which -he warned me to be on my guard." -</p> -<p> -The abbé motioned to him to come to the gate just as he withdrew the -key. Michel, persuaded that he must play his part more carefully than -ever, approached with an air of humility. -</p> -<p> -"Here, my boy," said the abbé, offering him a small coin, "here is -something with which to refresh yourself at the first tavern, for you -seem to be very much fatigued." -</p> -<p> -Michel repressed a thrill of indignation. He accepted the insult, put -out his hand and thanked the abbé humbly; then he ventured to say: -</p> -<p> -"I am grieved that his eminence did not deign to give me his blessing." -</p> -<p> -This well-acted bathos dispelled the abbe's suspicions. -</p> -<p> -"Console yourself, my child," he said, in a nonchalant tone; "Divine -Providence has been pleased to deprive our holy cardinal of the use of -his limbs. Paralysis permits him to bless the faithful only with his -mind and heart." -</p> -<p> -"May God cure and preserve him!" rejoined Michel; and he went his way, -very certain now that he was not mistaken, and that he had had a lucky -escape from a perilous meeting. -</p> -<p> -He had not taken ten steps down the hill-side when, as he turned a -corner, he found himself face to face with a man who was close upon him -before either of them recognized the other, so little did they expect to -meet at that moment. Suddenly they both cried out at once and clung -together in a passionate embrace. Michel was in his father's arms. -</p> -<p> -"O my child! my dear child! you, in this place!" cried Pier-Angelo. -"What joy and what anxiety for me! But joy carries the day and makes me -braver in spirit than I was a moment since. I was thinking of you and -saying to myself: 'It is lucky that Michel is not here, for our affairs -might well become serious.'—But here you are, and I cannot help being -the happiest of men." -</p> -<p> -"Never fear, father," Michel replied; "I became prudent as soon as I set -my foot on my native soil. I have just met our enemy face to face; he -questioned me, and I lied in a way to do your heart good." -</p> -<p> -Pier-Angelo turned pale.—"Who? who?" he exclaimed; "the cardinal?" -</p> -<p> -"Yes, the cardinal in person, the paralytic in his great gilt box. It -must be the famous Prince Hieronymo, who was the terror of my childhood, -and who seemed to me all the more terrible because I did not know the -cause of my fear. Well, dear father, I assure you that even if he still -has the will to do harm, he has not the power, for all varieties of -infirmity seem to have conspired together to crush him. I will tell you -of our interview; but tell me first of my sister, and let us go at once -and surprise her." -</p> -<p> -"No, Michel, no, the most important thing is for you to tell me how you -happened to see the cardinal so close. Let us go into this clump of -trees; I am not at all easy in my mind. Tell me, tell me quickly! He -spoke to you, you say? Is it certain that he spoke?" -</p> -<p> -"Let me reassure you, father, he cannot speak." -</p> -<p> -"Are you sure of it? You told me that he questioned you." -</p> -<p> -"I was questioned in his behalf, I suppose; but, as I observed -everything with perfect coolness, and as that caricature of an abbé who -acts as his interpreter is too thin to conceal the whole interior of the -chair, I saw plainly that his eminence spoke with his eyes only. -Moreover, his eminence is stone deaf, for when I told my age, which the -abbé asked me for some unknown reason, I saw the abbé lean toward -monsignore and hold up his ten fingers twice over, and then the thumb of -his right hand." -</p> -<p> -"Dumb, helpless, and deaf to boot! I breathe again. But how old did you -say you were? Twenty-one?" -</p> -<p> -"You told me to lie as soon as I set foot in Sicily." -</p> -<p> -"It is well, my child; Heaven aided and inspired you in that encounter." -</p> -<p> -"I think so, but I should be much more certain of it if you would tell -me how the cardinal can be interested to know whether I am eighteen or -twenty-one." -</p> -<p> -"That question cannot interest him in any way," said Pier-Angelo, with a -smile. "But I am overjoyed to find that you remembered my advice and -that you have suddenly acquired this prudence, of which I didn't believe -you to be capable. But tell me again, what did Abbé Ninfo—for it must -have been he, I am sure; was he very ugly?" -</p> -<p> -"Frightful; he squints and has a flat nose." -</p> -<p> -"That's the man! What else did he ask you? your name, or your province?" -</p> -<p> -"No, no other direct question, except as to my age, and my brilliant -reply to that seemed to satisfy him so entirely that he turned his back, -promising me his eminence's blessing." -</p> -<p> -"And his eminence didn't give it to you? he didn't raise his hand?" -</p> -<p> -"The abbé himself told me a little later that his eminence was entirely -deprived of the use of his limbs." -</p> -<p> -"What! that man spoke to you again? that fiend of hell came back to -you?" -</p> -<p> -As he spoke, Pier-Angelo scratched the back of his neck, the only spot -on his head where his restless hand could find any hair. It was a sign -with him of great perturbation of spirit. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap04"></a>IV -<br><br> -MYSTERIES -</h4> - -<p> -When Michel had told the story of his adventure to the most trivial -detail, and Pier-Angelo had admired and applauded his hypocrisy, the -young man said: -</p> -<p> -"Now, father, pray tell me how it happens that you live here, without a -mask and under your own name, without being molested, whereas I, -immediately upon my arrival, must resort to stratagem and stand on my -guard?" -</p> -<p> -Pier-Angelo seemed to hesitate a moment, then replied: -</p> -<p> -"Why, it is a very simple matter, my child! I was charged with being a -conspirator long ago; I was put in prison, and probably escaped the -gallows by flight. The formal prosecution had already been begun. That -is all forgotten, and although the cardinal must have known my name and -my face at the time, it would seem that I have changed greatly, or else -his memory is much impaired, for he has seen me here, and must have -heard my name mentioned, without recognizing me and without the faintest -indication that he recalled the old affair; that was a test which I was -resolved to make. I was summoned by Abbé Ninfo to work in the -cardinal's palace; I went there boldly, after taking measures to ensure -Mila's safety in case I should be cast into prison without process. The -cardinal saw me and did not recognize me. Abbé Ninfo knows nothing -about me; so that I am, or at all events I was, free from anxiety on my -own account, and was just about to write you to come and see me, when it -began to be rumored in the city, a few days ago, that his eminence was -visibly improved, so much so that he was going to pass some time at his -country house at Ficarazzi yonder; you can see the palace from here, on -the hillside." -</p> -<p> -"Then the villa a few steps away, where I just saw the cardinal enter, -is not his own residence?" -</p> -<p> -"No; it belongs to his niece, Princess Agatha. Doubtless he thought that -he would make a détour and call upon her as he passed; but this same -visit worries me. I know that she was not expecting it—that she had -made no preparations to receive her uncle. He must have wanted to give -her an unpleasant surprise, for he surely knows that there is no reason -whatever why she should be fond of him. I greatly fear that this is a -cloak for some wicked design. In any event, this sudden activity on the -part of a man who, for a whole year, has only moved about in a wheeled -chair up and down a gallery in his city palace, gives me food for -thought, and I say that we must pay close attention to everything now." -</p> -<p> -"But after all, father, all this does not tell me what danger there can -be for me personally! I was barely six months old, I believe, when I -left Sicily; I fancy that I was not implicated in the conspiracy in -which you were involved?" -</p> -<p> -"No, of course not; but new-comers are watched. Every man of the people, -young, intelligent and from across the strait, is assumed to be -dangerous, permeated with the new ideas. A single word from your lips, -spoken in presence of a spy, or extorted from you by an informer, would -be enough to put you in prison; and when I went to claim you as my son, -it would be vastly worse if that wicked cardinal should by any chance be -restored to health and to the exercise of power. Then he might remember -that I was accused long ago, and he would apply to us, by way of -sentence, the proverb: 'Like father, like son.' Now do you understand?" -</p> -<p> -"Yes, father, I will be prudent. Rely on me." -</p> -<p> -"That is not enough. I must be perfectly sure of the cardinal's state of -health. I do not propose to let you enter Catania until I know what to -expect." -</p> -<p> -"But what will you do to find out, father?" -</p> -<p> -"I will remain in hiding here with you until we have seen the cardinal -and his procession start for Ficarazzi. It won't be long. If it is true -that he is deaf and dumb, he will not have a long interview with his -niece. As soon as we no longer run the risk of meeting him there, we -will go to the Palmarosa palace, where I am at work now. I will conceal -you in some corner; then I will go and consult the princess." -</p> -<p> -"Is the princess in your interest, then?" -</p> -<p> -"She is my most powerful and most generous patron. She employs me a -great deal, and I hope that, thanks to her, we shall not be persecuted." -</p> -<p> -"Oh! father, was it she who gave you the money which enabled me to pay -my debts?" -</p> -<p> -"Lent it my boy, lent it. I knew well enough that you would not accept -alms, but she gives me so much work that I can pay her gradually." -</p> -<p> -"You may say: 'Soon,' father, for I am here! I have come to pay my debt -to you; my journey has no other purpose." -</p> -<p> -"What, my dear child! have you sold a picture? have you earned some -money?" -</p> -<p> -"Alas! no. I am not yet skilful enough or well enough known to earn -money. But I have arms, and I know enough to paint frescoes for -decoration. We will work together, my dear father, and I shall never -again have to blush to think that I am leading the life of an artist, -while you are wearing out your strength to gratify my misplaced tastes." -</p> -<p> -"Are you in earnest, Michel?" cried the old man. "You really mean to be -a workman?" -</p> -<p> -"I am fully determined upon it. I have sold my canvases, my engravings, -my books. I have given up my lodgings, thanked my teacher, bade farewell -to friends, to Rome, to glory. It was a little hard," added Michel, -feeling that his eyes were filling with tears; "but embrace me, father; -tell me that you are content with your son, and I shall be proud of what -I have done!" -</p> -<p> -"Embrace me, my dear boy!" replied the old decorator, pressing his son -to his heart, and blending his own tears with his. "It is a fine thing, -a noble thing that you have done, and God will reward you abundantly for -it, I promise you. I accept your sacrifice, but let us understand each -other: it is for a time only, for a time which we will make as short as -possible by working rapidly to pay our debt. The experience will be -useful to you, and your genius will grow instead of being extinguished. -Between us, thanks to the excellent princess, who will pay us well, we -shall soon have earned money enough for you to return to your real -painting, without remorse and without imposing any privation on me. That -is agreed. Now let us speak of your sister. She is a perfect prodigy of -wit, that little girl. And how she has grown and how beautiful she is! -so beautiful that it's enough to frighten a poor devil of a father like -me." -</p> -<p> -"I propose to remain a workman," said Michel, "for with a modest but -sure livelihood I can succeed in establishing my sister in life -according to her rank. Poor dear angel! Think of her sending me her -little earnings! And I, poor wretch, intended to bring them back to her -and was forced to sacrifice them! Ah! it is horrible, yes, detestable, -to try to become an artist when one has poor relations!" -</p> -<p> -"We will speak of this again, and I will find a way to revive your taste -for your destiny, my child. But, hark! I hear the gate creaking—the -cardinal is leaving the villa; let us not show ourselves; we shall soon -see them going down on our right. You say that Ninfo opened the gate -himself with a key that he had? It is very strange, and very disturbing -too, to find that the good princess is not safe in her own house, that -these people have false keys to violate her privacy unexpectedly, and -that they evidently suspect her, since they spy upon her in this way!" -</p> -<p> -"But of what can they possibly suspect her?" -</p> -<p> -"Why, suppose it were only of protecting people whom they persecute! You -assure me that you have become prudent, and in any event you will -understand the importance of what I am going to tell you. You know -already that the Palmarosas were entirely devoted to the court of -Naples; that Prince Donigi, the oldest of the family, Princess Agatha's -father, and brother of the cardinal, was the wickedest Sicilian that was -ever known, the enemy of his fatherland and the persecutor of his -compatriots; and that, too, not from cowardice, like those who go over -to the side of the conqueror, nor from greed, like those who sell -themselves; he was rich and fearless; but he did it from ambition, from -his passion for domineering, in short, from an inborn wickedness that -was in his blood and caused him to take the keenest delight in -terrifying, tormenting, and humbling his neighbor. He was omnipotent in -the time of Queen Caroline, and, until it pleased God to rid us of him, -he inflicted all the harm he possibly could upon the patriotic nobles -and the poor devils who loved their country. His brother continued that -wrong-doing; but now he is going, too; and if the dying lamp still casts -a faint gleam, it is simply a proof that it is dying. Then all the -clientage of the Palmarosas, among the people of Catania, and especially -in the suburb where we live, will be able to breathe freely. There are -no more males in the family, and all the vast property, of which the -cardinal still has the income of a large part, will fall into the hands -of a single heiress, Princess Agatha. She is as good as her relations -have been bad, and her heart is in the right place. She is Sicilian to -the marrow and detests the Neapolitans! She will have great influence -when she is entirely in control of her property and her acts. If God -would permit her to marry and take into her house some worthy nobleman -as right-minded as she, that would change the tone of the administration -somewhat, and better our lot!" -</p> -<p> -"Is the princess a young woman?" -</p> -<p> -"Yes, still young, and might marry as well as not; but she has always -refused to do it thus far, in the fear, so far as I can understand, that -she would not be free to choose for herself.—But here we are close to -the park," added Pier-Angelo; "we may meet somebody, so let us talk of -indifferent matters only. I urge you, my child, to use here nothing but -the Sicilian dialect, which we very wisely used at Rome so long. You -have not forgotten your native language, I trust, since we parted?" -</p> -<p> -"No, indeed," replied Michel. -</p> -<p> -And he began to talk Sicilian with great volubility, to convince his -father that there was nothing about him to indicate the foreigner. -</p> -<p> -"That is very good," said Pier-Angelo; "you have not the slightest -accent." -</p> -<p> -They had made a détour and entered the park by a gate at a considerable -distance from that at which Michel had encountered Monsignore Hieronymo; -the gate was open and the numerous marks on the gravel indicated that -many men, horses, and wagons habitually passed in and out. -</p> -<p> -"You will see here a great hurly-burly, most contrary to the ordinary -habits of the household," said the old painter to his son. "I will -explain it to you. But let us say nothing yet, that is the safest way. -Do not look about you too much, nor have the surprised air of a -new-comer. And, first of all, hide that travelling-bag among the rocks -near the waterfall; I shall remember the place. Rub your shoes in the -grass, so that you won't look like a traveller. Why, I believe you are -limping, are you hurt?" -</p> -<p> -"Nothing, nothing, a little fatigue." -</p> -<p> -"I am going to take you to a place where you can rest without being -disturbed by anyone." -</p> -<p> -Pier-Angelo made several détours in the park, leading his son through -shady paths, and thus they reached the palace without meeting anyone, -although they heard a great deal of noise, which increased as they drew -near. They entered a corridor on the lower floor and walked rapidly by -an enormous room, filled with workmen and materials of all sorts, -assembled there for some incomprehensible purpose. The men were so busy -and making so great an uproar that they did not notice Michel and his -father. Michel had no time to understand what he saw. His father had -instructed him to follow him step by step, and he walked so fast that -the young traveller, utterly exhausted as he was, found it difficult to -keep pace with him in the narrow halls and steep stairways. -</p> -<p> -Their journey through that labyrinth of secret passages seemed very long -to Michel. At last Pier-Angelo took a key from his pocket and opened a -small door on a dark corridor. Thereupon they found themselves in a long -gallery, adorned with statues and pictures. But the blinds were drawn -everywhere, and it was so dark that Michel could distinguish nothing. -</p> -<p> -"You can take a nap here," said his father, after he had carefully -locked the little door and removed the key; "I am going to leave you -here; I will return as soon as possible, and then I will tell you what -we are to do." -</p> -<p> -He walked the whole length of the gallery, and, raising a portière -embroidered with armorial bearings, pulled a bell-cord. In a few seconds -a voice answered inside, and a dialogue followed, in so low a tone, that -Michel could not hear a word. At last, a mysterious door was partly -opened, and Pier-Angelo disappeared, leaving his son in the darkness, -chill, and silence of that great empty room. -</p> -<p> -At times, however, the echoing voices of the men at work below, the -sound of the saw and the hammer, snatches of song, laughter, and oaths -reached his ears. But the noises gradually died away as darkness -approached, and, after two hours, the most absolute silence reigned in -that unfamiliar abode in which Michel found himself imprisoned, dying of -hunger and weariness. -</p> -<p> -Those two hours of suspense would have seemed very long to him if sleep -had not come to his aid. Although his eyes had become accustomed to the -darkness of the gallery, he made no attempt to inspect the objects of -art which it contained. He had dropped upon a rug, and fell into a sort -of lethargy, interrupted sometimes by the tumult below, and the -uneasiness which one feels when sleeping in a strange place. At last, -when nightfall was followed by the cessation of the work, he slept -soundly. -</p> -<p> -But a strange cry, which seemed to come from one of the rose-shaped -openings which supplied the gallery with ventilation, woke him abruptly. -He instinctively raised his head and fancied that he saw a faint light -on the ceiling. The figures painted thereon seemed to move for an -instant. Another cry, fainter than the first, but so peculiar that -Michel was perturbed by it and moved to the lowest depths of his being, -sounded over his head. Then the light vanished. The silence and darkness -became so intense that he wondered if he had not dreamed. -</p> -<p> -Another quarter of an hour passed, during which Michel, excited by what -had just happened, did not think of going to sleep again. He feared that -his father was in some danger which he could not define. He was -horrified at the thought that he himself was a captive and unable to -assist him. He examined all the doors and found them all securely -locked. He dared not make any noise, for, after all, it was a woman's -voice that he had heard, and he could not understand what connection -there could be between that cry and his own situation or Pier-Angelo's. -</p> -<p> -At last the mysterious door opened, and Pier-Angelo appeared, carrying a -candle whose flickering light imparted a fantastic appearance to the -statues upon which it fell one after another. When he stood beside -Michel, he said in a low voice: "We are saved; the cardinal is in his -dotage, and Abbé Ninfo knows nothing of our affairs. The princess, for -whom I was compelled to wait a long while, because she had people about -her, is of the opinion that we should make no sort of mystery about you. -She thinks that that would be worse than simply to announce your return -without any affectation. So we will go back to your sister, who is -undoubtedly anxious because I am so late. But we have quite a little -walk, and I suppose you are dying of hunger and thirst. The steward of -the household, who is very kind to me, told me to take you to a little -buttery, where we shall find something to eat." -</p> -<p> -Michel followed his father to a room which had on one side a glass door -with a curtain covering the glass outside. This room, which was in no -wise remarkable, was lighted by several candles, a fact which astonished -Michel somewhat. Pier-Angelo, observing his surprise, said that it was a -room where the princess's first lady's-maid came every night to -superintend the preparation of her mistress's supper. With that he -unceremoniously began to open cupboards and take out cold meats, -preserves, wine, fruit, and innumerable delicacies which he placed -helter-skelter on the table, laughing at each new discovery he made in -those inexhaustible cupboards—all to the unbounded amazement of -Michel, who failed to recognize his father's customary discretion and -pride. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap05"></a>V -<br><br> -THE CASINO -</h4> - -<p> -"Well," said Pier-Angelo, "don't you propose to help me? You sit there -with your arms folded and allow your father to wait on you! Do at least -take the trouble to eat and drink yourself!" -</p> -<p> -"Excuse me, dear father, you seem to me to do the honors of the house -with a self-possession which I admire, but which I should not dare to -imitate. You also seem to me to be very much at home here." -</p> -<p> -"I am more comfortable here than at home," rejoined Pier-Angelo, -nibbling at the wing of a chicken, and offering the other wing to his -son. "Don't expect me to give you such suppers often. But make the most -of this one without false shame; I told you that the majordomo -authorized me to do this." -</p> -<p> -"The majordomo is simply a higher servant who pilfers like all the -others, and invites his friends to make themselves comfortable at his -mistress's expense. Excuse me, father, but this supper is distasteful to -me; my appetite has all disappeared at the thought that we are stealing -the princess's supper; for these Japanese plates filled with delicious -sweetmeats were not intended for our mouths, nor even for that of his -highness the majordomo." -</p> -<p> -"Well, if I must tell you, that is true; but it was the princess herself -who bade me eat her supper, because she is not hungry to-night, and she -supposed that you would have some reluctance to sup with her servants." -</p> -<p> -"Your princess is extraordinarily kind," said Michel, "and shows a most -exquisite delicacy of feeling with respect to me! I confess that I -should not care to eat with her lackeys. But, father, if you do it, if -it is the custom of the house, and a necessity of my new position, I -will be no more fastidious than you, and will accustom myself to it. But -how did it ever occur to the princess to spare me that petty annoyance -to-night?" -</p> -<p> -"Because I spoke to her about you. As she is particularly interested in -me, she asked me many questions about you, and, when she learned that -you were an artist, she declared that she would treat you as an artist, -and that she would find an artist's work for you in her house, in short, -that she would show you all the consideration you could possibly -desire." -</p> -<p> -"She is a very generous and very thoughtful lady," rejoined Michel, with -a sigh, "but I will not abuse her good-nature. I should blush to be -treated as an artist, side by side with my father the artisan. No, no, I -am an artisan myself, neither more nor less. I prefer to be treated like -my fellows, and if I eat here to-night, I propose to eat to-morrow where -my father eats." -</p> -<p> -"It is well, Michel; those are noble sentiments. I drink your health! -This Syracuse wine gives me courage, and makes the cardinal seem no more -formidable than a mummy to me! But what are you looking at so intently?" -</p> -<p> -"It seems to me that that curtain behind the glass keeps moving. There -is certainly some prying servant there who doesn't like to see us eating -such a delicious supper in his place. Ah! it will be very disagreeable -to have to deal with those people all the time! They must be carefully -handled, of course, for they can do us an ill turn with their masters, -and deprive an honest artisan, who happens to offend them, of a good -customer." -</p> -<p> -"That is true, generally speaking, but there is nothing of the sort to -be feared here. I have the princess's confidence; I deal with her -directly and without any orders from the majordomo. And, then, her -servants are excellent fellows. Come, eat in peace, and don't keep -looking at that curtain, which the wind is blowing." -</p> -<p> -"I assure you, father, that it isn't the wind, unless Zephyr has a -pretty little white hand with a diamond ring on the finger." -</p> -<p> -"In that case it must be the princess's first lady's-maid. She must have -heard me tell her mistress that you were a well-favored youth, and she -is curious to see you. Sit round this way, so that she can gratify her -curiosity." -</p> -<p> -"I am much more anxious to go and see Mila, father, than to be seen by -her ladyship the first lady's-maid. I have eaten my fill; let us go." -</p> -<p> -"I will not go until I have applied once more to this excellent wine for -courage and strength. Drink with me again, Michel! I am so happy to be -with you, that I would get drunk if I had the time!" -</p> -<p> -"And I am happy too, father; but I shall be still more so when we are at -home with my sister. I do not feel so much at ease as you do in this -mysterious palace: it seems to me that I am watched, or that some one -here is afraid of me. There is a silence and solitude here which do not -seem natural to me. People do not walk and show themselves as they do in -other places. We are stealthy in our movements, and we are being -stealthily watched. Anywhere else I would break a pane of glass to see -what there is behind that curtain—and just now, in the gallery, I had -a terrible shock. I was awakened by a cry, such a cry as I never heard -before." -</p> -<p> -"A cry, really? How does it happen that I heard nothing of the sort, -although I was very near you, in the same part of the palace? You must -have dreamed it!" -</p> -<p> -"No! no! I heard it twice; a faint cry, it is true, but so vibrating, so -peculiar that my heart beats fast when I think of it." -</p> -<p> -"Ah! that is just like your romantic mind! Now I recognize you, Michel; -it delights my heart, for I was afraid that you had become too -reasonable. However, I am sorry, for the sake of your adventure, to be -obliged to tell you what I think about it, which is that her highness's -first lady's-maid must have seen a spider or a mouse as she passed -through one of the corridors that surround the great gallery of -paintings. Whenever she sees one of those creatures, she utters -frightful shrieks, and I take the liberty of laughing at her." -</p> -<p> -This prosaic explanation annoyed the young artist a little. He hurried -his father, who was inclined to forget himself over the Syracuse wine, -and half an hour later he was in his sister's arms. -</p> -<p> -The next day Michelangelo Lavoratori was installed with his father at -the Palmarosa palace, to work industriously there the rest of the week. -The work in progress was the decoration of the enormous ball-room -constructed of wood and canvas for the occasion, adjoining the peristyle -of that beautiful country-seat, and opening on the gardens on every -side. The princess, who ordinarily lived in strict retirement, was about -to give a magnificent fête, in which all the wealthy and noble -inhabitants of Catania and of the neighboring villas were to take part. -Her reason for this departure from her usual mode of life was as -follows: -</p> -<p> -Every year the first society of that neighborhood co-operated to give a -subscription ball for the benefit of the poor, and each proprietor of a -spacious house, whether in the city or the country, was supposed to lend -it in his turn, and to pay a portion of the expenses of the fête when -the circumstances would permit. -</p> -<p> -Although the princess was exceedingly charitable, her taste for -seclusion had led her to defer offering her palace; but her turn had -come at last. She had most generously assumed the whole burden of the -fête, agreeing to pay all the expenses of the ball, including the -decorations of the ball-room, music, etc. By reason of her generosity, -the sum realized for the poor promised to be quite handsome, and, as the -Villa Palmarosa was the most superb residence in the province, and all -the preparations were on a magnificent scale, the fête promised to be -the most brilliant one ever seen. -</p> -<p> -The house was full of workmen, who had been at work a fortnight on the -ball-room, under the direction of Barbagallo the majordomo, a man of -wide experience in such matters, and under the preponderating influence -of Pier-Angelo Lavoratori, whose taste and skill were already well known -and highly esteemed throughout the province. -</p> -<p> -On the first day, Michel, true to his agreement and resigned to his lot, -made garlands and arabesques with his father and the apprentices in his -employ; but his probation was confined to that day, for on the following -morning Pier-Angelo informed him that the princess wished him to -undertake the painting of allegorical figures on the ceiling and canvas -walls of the ball-room. The selection and size of the subjects was left -to his discretion; he was requested simply to make haste and to have -confidence in himself. That task did not require the care and finish of -a durable work; but it opened a wide field to his imagination, and when -he realized that he was in possession of that vast space, upon which he -was at liberty to cast his fancies without restraint, he had a moment of -genuine bliss, and he was more intoxicated than ever with his profession -of artist. -</p> -<p> -His enthusiasm for the commission was greatly increased when the -princess sent word to him, through his father, that, if his work was -simply passable, it would be accepted as full payment of the sum lent to -Pier-Angelo for him; but that, if it earned the praise of connoisseurs, -he should be paid double. -</p> -<p> -Thus Michel was on the point of becoming free in any event, and perhaps -rich for a year to come, if he displayed any talent at all. -</p> -<p> -A single apprehension, but a very weighty one, chilled his joy; the day -for the ball was fixed, and it was not in the princess's power to -postpone it. A week remained, only a week! For an experienced decorator -that was enough, but for Michel, who had never done anything of the sort -on a large scale, and who could not refrain from looking upon it as a -matter in which his self-esteem was deeply involved, it was so little -that he shuddered at the bare thought. -</p> -<p> -Luckily for him, having worked with his father in his boyhood, and -having watched him work a thousand times since, the processes of -water-color work were familiar to him, as well as the geometrical -principles of decoration; but when he attempted to select his subjects, -he was oppressed by the superabundance of his ideas, and the prodigality -of his imagination put him on the rack. He passed two nights drawing his -compositions, and all day on his scaffolding, adjusting them to the -space at his command. He did not think of sleeping or eating, or even of -improving his acquaintance with his young sister, until his work was -definitely laid out. At last it was done, and he transferred his labors -to the courtyard of an old ruined chapel in the centre of the park, -where his canvas ceiling, forty feet long, was stretched on the ground. -There, assisted by several zealous apprentices, who handed him his -colors all ready for use, and walking barefooted over his mythological -sky, he prayed to the muses to impart to his trembling hand the -necessary skill and boldness; and at last, armed with a gigantic brush, -which might fitly have been called a broom, he sketched his Olympus and -worked with so much fire and hope that the canvas was ready to be put in -place two days before the ball. -</p> -<p> -He had still to superintend its removal and installation, and to retouch -such parts as were necessarily damaged in that process. And then he also -had to assist his father, who, having been delayed by him, still had -many borders of wainscots and cornices to finish. -</p> -<p> -That week passed like a dream to Michel, and the few moments of repose -in which he indulged seemed to him delicious beyond words. The villa was -wonderfully beautiful inside as well as outside. The gardens and the -park gave one an idea of the earthly paradise. Nature is so teeming in -that country, the flowers so beautiful and sweet, the vegetation so -luxuriant, the streams so clear and swift, that art has little to do in -order to create fairyland around the palaces there. Not that blocks of -lava and vast fields of ashes do not, here and there, present the image -of desolation beside the Elysian Fields. But those horrors add to the -charm of the oases which the volcanic flames have spared. -</p> -<p> -Villa Palmarosa, situated on the slope of a hill whose rugged summit was -exposed to the ravages of Ætna, had existed for centuries amid -continual disasters which it had been privileged to contemplate -undisturbed. The palace was very old, of a graceful type of -architecture, borrowed from Saracen models. The ball-room, which now -concealed the façade of the ground-floor, presented a striking contrast -to the dark coloring and severe decorations of the upper floors. Within, -the contrast was even more striking. While all was uproar and confusion -on the ground floor, all was tranquillity, order and mystery on the -floor above, where the princess lived. At meal times Michel entered that -silent portion of the mansion, for the little room with the glass door, -where he had supped with his father on the first evening, was reserved -for him, as a special and mysterious favor. They were all alone there, -and if the curtain moved again, the movement was so slight that Michel -could not be certain that he had inspired a romantic passion in the -first lady's-maid's breast. -</p> -<p> -The palace being built against the cliff, the princess's apartments were -on a level with terraces embellished with flower-beds and fountains; and -by descending a narrow flight of steps, boldly cut in the lava, one -could reach by that means the park and the open country. Once Michel -wandered into those Babylonian flower-gardens suspended over a -terrifying abyss. He saw the windows of the princess's boudoir, which -was two hundred feet above the main entrance of the palace, and yet she -could go out of doors to walk without descending a single step. Such -boldness of conception and such charm in the construction of a dwelling -made him giddy both physically and mentally. But he never saw the queen -of that enchanted abode. At the times when he went up to her apartments -she was taking a siesta or receiving visits from her intimate friends in -the salons on the second floor. -</p> -<p> -This Sicilian custom of living on the upper floors, to enjoy the fresher -air and more perfect quiet, is found in several Italian cities. These -private apartments, generally small and quiet, are sometimes called the -<i>Casino</i>, and, with their private gardens, form, as it were, a -distinct dwelling above the main palace. This of which we are speaking -was set back from the front and side walls of the lower building by the -width of a very broad terrace, so that it was concealed, and, as it -were, isolated. At the back it formed a building of a single story, on -the level of the flower-garden, since the lower edifice was built -against the cliff. Viewing it from that side, one would have said that a -stream of lava had flowed against the palace and hardened there, and had -blotted out one whole side of it up to the level of the Casino. But the -villa had been constructed in that way to avoid danger from fresh -eruptions. Looking at it from the direction of Ætna, one would have -taken it for a small summer-house perched on top of a rock. Not until -you had made the circuit of that mass of volcanic débris did you -discover a magnificent palace, consisting of three great structures, one -upon another, and climbing the hill backward, so to speak. -</p> -<p> -Under any other circumstances Michel would have been curious to know if -this lady, who was said to be lovely and gracious, was, poetically -speaking, worthy to inhabit so noble an abode; but his imagination, -engrossed by the hurried work which had been entrusted to him, paid -little heed to other things. -</p> -<p> -He felt so fatigued when he laid aside his rough brush for an instant, -that he was compelled to fight against drowsiness in order not to -prolong his siesta beyond half an hour. Indeed, he was so afraid that -the zeal of his companions might abate, that he took that brief interval -of rest by stealth in the gallery of paintings, where his father would -lock him in, and where it seemed that no one ever set foot. Two or three -times he lacked courage to go and pass the night in the suburb of -Catania, although his house was among the first on the road from the -villa, and he consented to allow his father to procure a bed for him in -the palace. When he did return to the wretched hovel where Mila bloomed -like a rose under glass, he neither saw nor comprehended anything that -took place about him. He confined himself to kissing his sister and -telling her that he was glad to see her, but he had no time to -scrutinize her or to talk with her. -</p> -<p> -The day before the fête was a Sunday. It only remained to give a last -glance and a finishing touch to the work. He determined to dress with -some care and to stroll about the city after escorting Mila to the -evening service. He soon learned the location of the principal churches, -squares, and buildings. Lastly, his father introduced him to several of -his friends and relations, who welcomed him cordially, and with whom he -strove to be amiable. But the contrast between that environment and the -society he had frequented at Rome made him sad in spite of himself, and -he retired early, longing for the morrow; for, in presence of his work, -and under the spell of the noble edifice in which he labored, he forgot -that he was of the common people, and remembered only that he was an -artist. -</p> -<p> -At last that day of hope and dread arrived, the day on which Michel's -work was to be applauded or ridiculed by the élite of Sicilian society. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap06"></a>VI -<br><br> -THE STAIRCASE -</h4> - -<p> -"What! no farther advanced than this?" cried the majordomo, in despair, -rushing in among the workmen. "Great God! what are you thinking of? The -clock will strike seven in a moment; at eight the carriages will begin -to arrive, and half of this room is not yet draped!" -</p> -<p> -As this apostrophe was addressed to no person in particular, no one -replied, and the workmen continued to work with more or less speed, each -according to the measure of his strength and his skill. -</p> -<p> -"Room, room for the flowers!" cried the controller of that notable -branch of the establishment. "Put a hundred boxes of camellias in rows -along the benches!" -</p> -<p> -"How do you expect to arrange your boxes of flowers before the carpets -are down?" queried Master Barbagallo, with a profound sigh. -</p> -<p> -"And where do you expect me to put my boxes and flower-pots?" retorted -the head gardener. "Why haven't your upholsterers finished their work?" -</p> -<p> -"Ah! there you are! why haven't they?" said the other, in a tone of -intense indignation. -</p> -<p> -"Room! room for my ladders!" cried another voice; "the orders are that -everything must be lighted at eight o'clock sharp, and that doesn't give -me any too much time to light so many chandeliers. Room, room, I say!" -</p> -<p> -"Painters, take away your ladders," cried the upholsterers, in their -turn; "we can do nothing as long as you are in the way." -</p> -<p> -"Such confusion, such an uproar, it's a second Tower of Babel," muttered -the majordomo, wiping his brow. "I did all that I could to see that -everything was done at the proper time; I warned everyone more than a -hundred times; and here you are, all in a muddle, disputing the ground -with one another, in one another's way, and making no progress at all. -It is hopeless! it is disgusting!" -</p> -<p> -"Whose fault is it?" said the man with the flowers. "Can I put my -wreaths on bare walls and my flowerpots on rough boards?" -</p> -<p> -"And can I climb up to the ceiling," said the man with the candles, "if -my ladders are taken away to lay carpets? Do you take my men for bats, -do you want me to make thirty honest fellows break their necks?" -</p> -<p> -"How do you expect my men to lay their carpets," said the chief -upholsterer, in his turn, "if the painters don't take away their -ladders?" -</p> -<p> -"And how do you expect our ladders to be taken away if we are still on -them?" shouted one of the painters. -</p> -<p> -"The fault is all yours, you daubers!" cried the frantic majordomo; "or, -rather, your master is the only culprit," he added, noticing that the -young man whom he addressed glared fiercely at him at the epithet of -dauber. "It's that old madman of a Pier-Angelo, who is not even here to -direct you, I'll wager. Where can he be? At the nearest wineshop, I'll -stake my head!" -</p> -<p> -A voice, still full and resonant, broke forth at the highest point of -the ceiling with the refrain of an old ballad, and, on looking up, the -wrathful majordomo saw the glistening bald head of the -decorator-in-chief. Evidently the old man was laughing at the majordomo, -and, being master of the field, proposed to put the finishing touches to -his work at his leisure. -</p> -<p> -"Pier-Angelo, my friend," said the other, "you are making sport of us! -That is too bad of you. You act like an old spoiled child, as you are; -but we shall lose patience at last. This is no time to laugh and sing -your drinking-songs." -</p> -<p> -Pier-Angelo did not deign to reply; he simply shrugged his shoulders as -he talked with his son, who was even higher up than he, shading the -dress of a dancing-girl of Herculaneum, who swam in a blue canvas sky. -</p> -<p> -"There are enough figures, enough folds and shading!" cried the -majordomo, beside himself. "Who in the devil will ever look up there, to -see if there's anything wrong with your divinities in the firmament? The -general effect is there, and that's all that is necessary. Come, come -down, you old fox, or I'll shake the ladder you are standing on." -</p> -<p> -"If you touch my father's ladder," exclaimed young Michel, in a voice of -thunder, "I will crush you with this chandelier. No jests of that sort, -Signor Barbagallo, or you will be sorry for them." -</p> -<p> -"Let him talk, and go on with your work," said old Pier-Angelo, calmly. -"Disputing takes time; don't waste your breath in empty words." -</p> -<p> -"Go down, father, go down," said the young man. "I am afraid that in -this confusion they may give you a fall; I shall finish in a moment. Go -down, I entreat you, if you expect me to retain my presence of mind." -</p> -<p> -Pier-Angelo descended the ladder slowly; not that he had lost, at sixty -years of age, the strength and agility of youth, but in order to make -the time that his son required to complete his work seem less long. -</p> -<p> -"What folly, what trifling!" said the majordomo to the old man. "You -work over these temporary canvases as if they were to be exhibited in a -museum, whereas they will be rolled up and stored in a garret to-morrow, -and will have to be covered with different figures for the next fête! -Who will thank you for it? Who will pay the slightest attention to -them?" -</p> -<p> -"Not you; everybody knows that," retorted the young painter, -contemptuously, from the top of his ladder. -</p> -<p> -"Hush, Michel, and attend to your work," said his father. "Everyone -takes pride in doing the best he can," he added, looking at the steward. -"There are some who take pride in claiming the credit of all our labors! -Come! the upholsterers may begin. Give me a hammer and some nails, you -fellows! As I have delayed you, it's no more than fair that I should -help you." -</p> -<p> -"Always a good comrade!" said one of the upholsterers, handing the old -painter some tools. "Come, Master Pier-Angelo, let art and trade lend -each other a hand! One must be mad to get into trouble with you." -</p> -<p> -"Oh! yes," grumbled Barbagallo, who, contrary to his customary reserved -and courteous habit, was in a savage humor that evening; "that's the way -everybody pays court to the obstinate old fool, and he doesn't care a -fig how much trouble he makes for others." -</p> -<p> -"Instead of grumbling, you ought to help at the nailing, or by lighting -the candles," said Pier-Angelo, with a mocking air. "But, psha I you are -afraid you might spoil your satin breeches and tear your ruffles." -</p> -<p> -"Master Pier-Angelo, you are altogether too familiar, and I swear that I -will never employ you after to-day." -</p> -<p> -"God grant it!" retorted the other with his accustomed phlegm, -accompanying himself with sturdy, measured blows of the hammer upon the -nails which he drove in quick succession; "but, on the very next -occasion, you will come and implore me, and say that nothing can be done -without me; and I, as usual, shall forgive your impertinence." -</p> -<p> -"Well!" said the majordomo to Michel, as he came slowly down his ladder, -"is it done at last? That is very fortunate! Quick! quick! help the -upholsterers, or the gardeners, or the lamplighters. Do something to -make up for lost time." -</p> -<p> -Michel eyed the majordomo with a haughty air. He had so entirely -forgotten even the idea of becoming a mere workman, that he could not -imagine how that subordinate could venture to order him to take part in -tasks unconnected with his special duties; but, just as he was about to -make a sharp retort, he heard his father's voice calling him. -</p> -<p> -"Come, Michel, bring us some nails here, and help these good fellows, -who won't finish in time without us." -</p> -<p> -"Nothing can be fairer," the young man replied. "I may not be very -skilful at that work, but I have good strong arms for stretching. Come, -what must I do? Tell me, you fellows!" -</p> -<p> -"Good!" exclaimed Magnani, a young journeyman upholsterer, outspoken and -full of animation, who lived next door to the Lavoratori family in the -suburb. "Be a good comrade like your father, whom everybody loves, and -you will be loved as he is. We have been told that, because you had -studied painting at Rome, you were inclined to be a little conceited, -and you certainly do go about the city in a coat that is hardly fitted -for an artisan. You have a very pleasing face, to be sure, but people -blame you for being ambitious." -</p> -<p> -"Where would be the harm?" rejoined Michel, working industriously beside -Magnani. "Who is not entitled to be ambitious?" -</p> -<p> -"I like the frankness of your reply, but every man who wishes to be -admired should begin by winning affection." -</p> -<p> -"Am I hated, pray, in this country, where I have just arrived, and where -I know no one as yet?" -</p> -<p> -"It is your own country; you were born here, your family is well known -here, and your father highly esteemed; and the very reason that -everybody has their eyes fixed on you is that you have just arrived. -People think you a comely fellow, well dressed and well built. So far as -I am able to judge, you have talent, the figures you have sketched and -colored up yonder are not mere vulgar daubs. Your father is proud of -you, but that is no reason why you should be proud of yourself. You are -still a child, you are several years younger than I; you have almost no -beard on your chin; you have never had an opportunity to furnish proofs -of courage and virtue. When you have suffered a little because of the -hardships of your condition in life, without complaining, then we will -forgive you for carrying your head high and swaying from your hips up as -you cross the street, with your cap over one ear. Otherwise we shall -tell you that you are trying to impose on us, and that if you are not an -artisan, but an artist, you had better ride in a carriage and not look -the young men of your own rank in the face; for, you see, your father is -a workman like us; he has talent in his line, and it may be more -difficult to paint flowers, fruit, and birds on a cornice than to hang -draperies at a window and arrange colors to harmonize in furnishing a -room. But the difference isn't so great that we are not cousins-german -in trade. I do not think that I am any better than the carpenter or -mason; why do you think yourself above me?" -</p> -<p> -"I have no such thought," Michel replied; "God preserve me from it!" -</p> -<p> -"In that case, why didn't you come to our artisans' ball last night? I -know that your cousin Vincenzo wanted to bring you, and you refused." -</p> -<p> -"Do not form a bad opinion of me for that, my friend; it may be that I -am of a melancholy and unsociable temperament." -</p> -<p> -"I don't believe it. Your face says the contrary. Forgive me for -speaking to you without ceremony; it is because I like you that I -reproach you in this way. But our carpet is all nailed here; we must go -somewhere else." -</p> -<p> -"Two or three of you to each chandelier!" cried the head lamplighter to -his men; "you will never finish if you scatter so!" -</p> -<p> -"I say! I am all alone!" cried Visconti, one of the lighters, a stout -fellow and fond of the bottle, who, having a little wine in his brain -already, did not hold the lighted match within two inches of the candle. -Michel, impressed by the lesson Magnani had given him, placed a stool -under the chandelier and attempted to assist Visconti. -</p> -<p> -"Ah! that is right!" said the latter; "Master Michel's a good fellow, -and he will have his reward. The princess pays well, and moreover she -wants everybody to enjoy themselves in her house on fête days. There -will be a supper for us after the dessert of the nobility's supper, and -there'll be no lack of good wine. I have already had a little on account -as I passed through the pantry." -</p> -<p> -"And so you are burning your fingers!" said Michel, with a smile. -</p> -<p> -"Perhaps your hand won't be as steady as it is now, two or three hours -later," retorted Visconti; "for you will come to supper with us, won't -you, young man? Your father will sing us his old ballads, which are -always good for a laugh. There'll be more than a hundred of us at table -at once! Ah! what a lark we will have!" -</p> -<p> -"Make room, make room!" cried a tall footman, with gold lace on all the -seams of his livery; "the princess is coming to see if everything is -ready. Make haste, stand aside! Don't shake the carpets so hard, you -raise a dust. I say! you lighters up there, don't drop the wax so! take -away your tools, make a passage!" -</p> -<p> -"Well," said the majordomo, "now you will hold your peace, I trust, you -workmen! Come, make haste; if you are late, at least act as if you were -hurrying. I won't be responsible for the rebuke you are going to -receive. I am very sorry for you. But it's your own fault; I can't -justify you. Ah! Master Pier-Angelo, this time you have no excuse for -coming to beg for compliments." -</p> -<p> -These words reached young Michel's ears, and all his pride reawoke in -his heart. The idea that his father could <i>beg for</i> compliments and -receive reproaches was intolerable to him. If he had not as yet been -able to see the princess, he could fairly say that he had made no -attempt to see her. He was not one of those who run eagerly at the heels -of a wealthy and powerful person, to feast that person's eyes with the -spectacle of puerile and servile admiration. But this time he stooped as -he stood on the stool, seeking with his eyes that haughty personage who, -according to Master Barbagallo, would in a moment humiliate an -assemblage of intelligent and willing mechanics with a gesture or a -word. He remained in that position, considerably above the level of the -crowd, in order to see better, but all ready to jump down, rush to his -old father's side, and answer for him if, in a spasm of too great -affability, the heedless old man should allow himself to be insulted. -</p> -<p> -The vast apartment which they were hastening to complete was nothing -more than an immense garden terrace, covered on the outside with such a -wilderness of foliage, garlands and streamers, that one might have taken -it for an enormous bower after the style of Watteau. Within, movable -floors had been laid on the gravel. Three great marble fountains, -decorated with mythological characters, were not at all in the way in -that extemporized ball-room, but formed its most beautiful decoration. -There was sufficient room to promenade and to dance between those -graceful piles. They discharged their jets of limpid water into -veritable thickets of flowers, beneath the resplendent glare of the -great chandeliers, which spangled them with sparks of light. Benches, -arranged as in an ancient amphitheatre, dotted with rose-bushes here and -there, provided numerous seats for the guests and did not impede the -circulation. -</p> -<p> -The ceiling was so high that the main stairway of the palace, an -admirable piece of architecture, adorned with antique statues and jasper -urns of the most beautiful patterns, was wholly within the ball-room. -The white marble stairs were newly covered with a purple carpet, and the -lackeys who preceded the princess having swept back the crowd of -workmen, there was a solemn void about the foot of the staircase. -Everybody instinctively held his peace in anticipation of a majestic -spectacle. -</p> -<p> -The workmen, impelled by a feeling of curiosity, ingenuous and -respectful in some, mocking and indifferent in others, all fixed their -eyes on the great carved doors at the top of the staircase. Michel felt -that his heart was beating fast, but it was with anger no less than with -impatience. "Who in God's name are these nobles and wealthy mortals," he -said to himself, "that they walk so proudly over the altars and -platforms that our degraded hands construct for them? A goddess of -Olympus would hardly be worthy to appear in such state, at the summit of -such a temple, to the base mortals prostrate at her feet! Oh! insolence, -falsehood and mockery! It may be that the woman who is about to come -forth before my eyes is a woman of narrow mind, of ordinary parts; and -yet all these bold, strong men, uncover at her approach!" -</p> -<p> -Michel had asked his father very few questions concerning Princess -Agatha's tastes and character; and even those few questions Pier-Angelo -had answered, especially of late, in an absent-minded way, as his custom -was when anyone introduced a subject foreign to the train of thought -induced by his work. But Michel was proud, and the thought that he was -about to be brought face to face with some one prouder than himself -aroused a feeling of anger and something like hatred in his heart. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap07"></a>VII -<br><br> -A GLANCE -</h4> - -<p> -When the Princess of Palmarosa appeared at the top of the stairs, Michel -thought that he saw before him a girl of fifteen, she was so lithe and -slender in figure and in attitude; but, at each stair that she -descended, he discovered an additional year upon her brow; and when he -saw her near at hand, he concluded that she was about thirty. That did -not prevent her from being beautiful; not resplendent and superb, but -pure and sweet, like the bunch of white cyclamen she carried in her -hand. She had a reputation for grace and charm rather than for beauty; -for she had never been a coquette, and did not seek to create a -sensation. Many much less beautiful women had kindled passions because -they had chosen so to do. Princess Agatha had never furnished food for -gossip, and if there had ever been any profound emotion in her life, -society had never had any positive knowledge of it. -</p> -<p> -She was very charitable, indeed, it might be said that her only -occupation was the distribution of alms; but it was done without parade -or ostentation, and she was not called the mother of the poor. In a -majority of cases the people whom she assisted did not know the source -of the assistance they received. She was not a very regular attendant at -church, although she did not avoid religious services. She had artistic -tastes, and surrounded herself most discerningly with the most beautiful -objects and the noblest minds. But she did not shine in the centre of -her social system, nor did she make a pedestal of her connections or her -wealth. In everything it seemed that she preferred to do as all the -world did, and that, whether from apathy, from good taste, or from -inward timidity, she had made it an object in life never to attract -notice. There never was a more inoffensive woman. People esteemed her, -loved her without enthusiasm, appreciated her worth without jealousy. -But was she appreciated at her true worth? That is something that it -would have been difficult to say. She was not supposed to have a great -intellect. The highest praise that her oldest friends bestowed upon her -was to say that she was an absolutely reliable person and of a very even -disposition. -</p> -<p> -All this could be readily seen in the first glance that one cast upon -her, and young Michel, as he watched her descend the staircase with -careless grace, felt his aversion vanish with his dread. It was -impossible to retain a feeling of irritation in presence of so pure, and -calm, and sweet a face. But, as he had prepared, in his anger, to defy -the awe-inspiring glance of a domineering and splendid beauty, he felt -as if his mind were relieved of a great weight when he saw an ordinary -woman. He had an instinctive feeling that, even if she came to scold, -she would have neither the energy, nor, perhaps, the spirit to be -insulting. His heart became calmer, and he gazed at her with increasing -tranquillity, as if the refreshing fluid emanating from a serene mind -had found its way from her to him. -</p> -<p> -She was richly but simply dressed in a heavy silk gown of a dull milky -white, without ornament. A small circle of diamonds embellished her -glossy black hair, parted in bands over a smooth, pure forehead. -Doubtless she could have worn richer jewels, but her coronet was a work -of art of most excellent workmanship, and did not weary her small, -admirably poised head with a dragging weight. Her shoulders, half bare, -had lost the interesting thinness of early youth, and had not yet -attained the luxuriant rotundity of the third or fourth youth. There -were still some delicate lines in her figure, and in her every movement -a careless suppleness, which seemed to be unaware of its own existence -and to pose for no one. -</p> -<p> -With the end of her fan she slowly waved aside the footman and the -majordomo, who were exerting themselves to make room for her, and passed -before them, stepping easily and without awkward haste over the boards -and rolls of carpet which still lay in her path; and with a sort of -heedlessness, humble or lordly, as you please, allowing the long folds -of her beautiful white silk dress to drag in the dust left by the feet -of the mechanics. With no sign of repugnance, perhaps without observing -them, she brushed against the perspiring workmen, who could not step -aside quickly enough. She passed through a group of gardeners, who were -moving huge boxes, and did not seem to notice or to be disturbed by the -danger of being crushed or wounded. She returned the salutations of -those who saluted her, without the slightest assumption of superiority -or patronage, and when she was in the midst of the swarm of men, boards, -ladders, and canvas, she halted very calmly, looked about to see what -was finished and what was not, and said in a mild and encouraging voice: -</p> -<p> -"Well, <i>gentlemen</i>, do you hope to have everything finished in time? -We have barely half an hour." -</p> -<p> -"I will answer for everything, my dear princess," replied Pier-Angelo, -approaching her with a cheerful air; "don't you see that I am putting my -hand to everything?" -</p> -<p> -"In that case, I have no fear," said she, "and I rely also upon -everybody here. It would be a pity to leave such a beautiful piece of -work unfinished. I am exceedingly pleased. It is all conceived with -taste and executed with great care. I thank you very much for the pains -you have taken to do the work well, <i>gentlemen</i>, and this fête will -redound to your glory." -</p> -<p> -"My son Michel will have his share in it, I trust," rejoined the old -decorator; "will your ladyship deign to permit me to present him to you? -Come, Michel, come and kiss the princess's hand, my son; she is a kind -princess, you see!" -</p> -<p> -Michel did not move a muscle to approach them. Although the way in which -the princess had <i>scolded</i> his father had touched him and won his -heart, he was by no means inclined to humble himself before her. He was -well aware that the Italian custom of kissing a lady's hand denotes either -the respectful homage of a friend or the prostration of an inferior, -and, having no right to claim the former title, he did not choose to -descend to the other. He removed his velvet cap and stood erect, -affecting to look the princess in the face with perfect self-possession. -</p> -<p> -Thereupon she fixed her eyes upon him, and, whether because her features -wore an expression of kindness and cordiality in contrast to the -careless good-nature of her manners, or because Michel was assailed by a -strange hallucination, he was stirred to the lowest depths of his being -by that unexpected glance. It seemed to him that a searching flame, -intense and penetrating, entered his very soul from the great lady's -soft eyes; that an ineffable affection, coming forth from that unknown -heart, had taken possession of his whole being; in short, that the -Princess Agatha said to him in language more eloquent than any human -words: "Come to my arms, come to my heart!" -</p> -<p> -Michel, bewildered, fascinated, beside himself, shuddered, turned pale, -approached with an involuntary, convulsive movement, tremblingly took -the princess's hand, and, as he was about to put it to his lips, raised -his eyes once more to hers, thinking that he had been mistaken, and that -he could in that way put an end to a dream that was at once painful and -delicious. But those pure and limpid eyes expressed a love so absolute -and so trustful that he lost his head, felt that his senses were leaving -him, and fell as if crushed at the signora's feet. -</p> -<p> -When he recovered his presence of mind, the princess was already several -steps away. She walked on, followed by Pier-Angelo, and when they were -alone at the farther end of the room, they seemed to be discussing some -detail of the fête. Michel was ashamed; his emotion rapidly vanished in -face of the thought that he had presented to all his companions a -spectacle of incredible weakness and presumption; but, as the princess's -kind words had electrified them all, and as they had all resumed their -labor with a sort of joyful frenzy, they sang and hammered, and bustled -about him, and his adventure was a mere incident, lost, or at least not -understood, in the crowd. Some had noticed, with a smile, that he bowed -lower than he needed to do, and that it was apparently an aristocratic -and gallant habit which he had brought from abroad with his haughty air -and his fine clothes. Others thought that he had stumbled over a board -when he was about to bow, and that his awkwardness had caused his -confusion. -</p> -<p> -Magnani alone had watched him closely and half guessed the truth. -</p> -<p> -"Michel," he said, after a few moments, when their work had brought them -together once more, "you seem very timid, but I believe that you are -insanely bold. It is certain that the princess thought you a handsome -fellow, and that she looked at you in a certain way which might have -meant something very different on the part of any other woman; but do -not be too presumptuous, my boy; this excellent princess is a virtuous -lady; she has never been known to have a lover, and if she chose to take -one, it isn't at all likely that she would begin with a little painter -in distemper, when so many illustrious noblemen ——" -</p> -<p> -"Hush, Magnani," said Michel, vehemently; "your jests wound me, and I -have never given you the right to laugh at me in this way; I won't -endure it." -</p> -<p> -"Come, no temper," rejoined the young journeyman; "I have no intention -of offending you, and when a man has arms like mine, he would be a -coward to insult a boy like you. Besides, I am not naturally unkind, and -as I told you before, if I speak frankly to you, it is because I am -inclined to like you. I feel that you have a mind superior to mine, -which attracts and charms me. But I also feel that you have a weak -character and a wild imagination. If you have more intelligence and more -refinement, I have more common sense and experience. Do not take my -reflections in bad part. You have no friends among us as yet, and you -could already reckon more than one enmity prepared to break out, if you -should incline to see what is going on around you. I may be able to be -of service to you in some way, and if you listen to my warning, you will -avoid many vexations which you do not foresee. Come, Michel, do you -scorn me, and reject my friendship?" -</p> -<p> -"On the contrary, I request it," replied Michel, moved and completely -conquered by Magnani's frankness; "and I propose to show myself worthy -of it by justifying myself. I know nothing, I believe nothing, I think -nothing of the princess. For the first time in my life I see so great a -lady at close quarters, and ——. But why do you smile?" -</p> -<p> -"You stop to ask about my smile to avoid finishing your sentence. I will -finish it for you. You find that a great lady is something divine, and -you fall madly in love with her. You love grandeur! I understood that -perfectly the first time I saw you." -</p> -<p> -"No, no!" cried Michel, "I have not fallen in love; I do not know this -woman, and, as for her grandeur, I do not know in what it consists. You -might as well say that I am in love with her palace, her dress, or her -diamonds, for thus far I have seen no other signs of superiority, except -excellent taste, in which we assist her materially, it seems to me, as -well as her jeweller and her dressmaker." -</p> -<p> -"As you know nothing more of her, that is well said," rejoined Magnani; -"but in that case will you explain to me why you nearly fainted when you -kissed her hand?" -</p> -<p> -"Do you explain it to me, if you can; for my part, I have no idea. I -knew that ladies had a way of using their eyes which was bolder than -that of a courtesan, and at the same time more contemptuous than that of -a nun. Yes, I had noticed that; and that blending of seduction and pride -drove me wild when I happened, against my will, to touch elbows with any -of them in a crowd. And that is why I hated great ladies. But this one -has a glance which resembles no other woman's. I could not undertake to -say whether it is voluptuous languor or good-humored torpor; but no -woman ever looked at me so, and —— what can you expect, -Magnani? I am young and impressionable, and it gave me the vertigo; that -is all. I am not intoxicated with vanity, I swear, for I am perfectly -certain that she would have looked at you in the same way if chance had -placed your face before her instead of mine." -</p> -<p> -"I don't believe it," replied Magnani, pensively. -</p> -<p> -He had dropped his hammer and seated himself on a bench. He seemed to be -struggling painfully to solve a problem. -</p> -<p> -"Ah! young men!" exclaimed old Pier-Angelo, as he passed them; "you are -chattering and not working; only the old men know how to work fast." -</p> -<p> -Touched by the rebuke, Michel hastened to assist his father, after -whispering to his new friend that they would resume their conversation -later. -</p> -<p> -"Your best course," said Magnani, in an undertone, with a strange -expression, "will be to think as little as possible about it." -</p> -<p> -Michel loved his father fervently, and with good reason. Pier-Angelo was -a man of spirit, of courage, and of sound sense. An artist in his way, -he followed the good old traditions in his work, and was not irritated -by the innovations that he saw all about him. On the contrary, he very -quickly assimilated such progressive ideas as he was made to understand. -He was an easy-going, jovial mortal, optimistic in general, tolerant in -particular cases, almost never ascribing evil intentions, but never -paltering with them when it was no longer possible for him to entertain -his generous illusions. A straightforward, simple, unselfish soul, -content with little, entertained by everything, loving work for himself, -and money for others, that is to say, living from day to day, and unable -to deny his neighbor anything. -</p> -<p> -Providence had given the impulsive Michel the only guide he could ever -have accepted; for that young man was entirely different from his father -in several respects. He was restless, suspicious, slightly egotistical, -with a decided tendency toward ambition, instability and anger. And yet -his also was a noble nature, because it was sincerely in love with the -noble and the great, and surrendered enthusiastically when its -confidence was justified. But it is beyond question that his temperament -was less happy than it might have been, that his active and inquisitive -intellect often fed upon itself; and that his sensitive and excitable -mind sometimes made a desperate onslaught on the tranquillity of his -heart. -</p> -<p> -If a rough hand, the heavy hand of a mechanic desperately bent upon -money-making, or subject to all the jealous indignation peculiar to the -republican spirit, had undertaken to mould young Michel's mobile nature -and discontented mind, it would have driven them to exasperation and -would speedily have shattered or destroyed them. The improvident and -cheerful temper of Pier-Angelo had acted as a counterpoise and sedative -upon his passionate instincts. He rarely talked the language of cold -reason to him, and never thwarted his fickle inclinations. But the -fearless heedlessness of certain natures has a sympathetic effect which -makes us blush for our weaknesses, and acts upon us more powerfully by -example, by precepts nobly and simply put in execution, than all the -speeches and sermons in the world could do. It was by this means that -Pier-Angelo, while seeming to accede to Michel's desires and caprices, -still exerted the only ascendancy to which he could have been induced to -submit. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap08"></a>VIII -<br><br> -THE INTRUDER -</h4> - -<p> -Once more, when he saw his father doing the work of two, Michel was -ashamed of his absent-mindedness, and hastened to assist him. There was -still a temporary staircase to be erected at one side of the ball-room, -to communicate with a gallery on the floor above, and afford the -anticipated crowd an additional artery of circulation. -</p> -<p> -They could already hear numerous carriages rumbling in the distance over -that magnificent street which is proudly called the <i>Ætnean Road</i>, and -which passes through Catania in a straight line, from the water's edge -to the foot of Ætna; as if, to quote a traveller, "the people who had -erected their superb palaces along that road had intended to afford the -angry volcano a way befitting its majesty." -</p> -<p> -At critical moments, when the time is too short, when the hours seem -rather to gallop than to walk, when human forces are at odds with the -impossible in some feverish toil, very few men are endowed with -sufficient strength of will to retain the hope of triumphing at last. At -such moments it is simply a matter of quadrupling one's own faculties -and performing a miracle. Most of the workmen were utterly discouraged -and proposed to abandon that temporary structure and to conceal the -opening with flowers and pictures; in short, to inflict upon the -organizers of the fête the unpleasant surprise of a departure from -their plans. Pier-Angelo revived the courage of those who seemed -well-disposed, and set to work. Michel performed prodigies in the way of -assisting them; and in ten minutes, the task which it was said would -take two hours was completed as if by magic. -</p> -<p> -"Michel," then said the old man, wiping his head, which was bald to the -base of the skull, "I am satisfied with you, and I see that you are a -good workman; which, in my eyes, is an indispensable qualification for -any man who wishes to become a great artist. Everyone cannot work fast, -and most of those who make haste do bad work. We must not despise them -for that. In the ordinary course of affairs all work requires coolness, -calculation, orderly management, foresight, in short, common -sense—yes, even in loading a cart with stones, there are a -thousand ways of going about it and only one right way. One man will -take too many on his shovel, another not enough; one lifts his arm too -high and throws the stones over the cart, another doesn't lift it high -enough and throws them among the wheels. Have you never compared one -thing with another and reflected, as you watched the simple work of the -fields? Have you seen men digging? In that, as in everything else, there -is one good workman to twenty bunglers. And who can say that the man who -does as much work with the spade as four others, without tiring himself -out and without losing a second, is not a superior man, who would do -more difficult things admirably? Tell me, what do you think about it? -For my part, I have always had that thought in my mind, and by watching -the girls picking strawberries on the mountain, I can pick out the one -who will best manage her house and bring up her children someday. Do you -think I am talking nonsense? Answer me." -</p> -<p> -"I think that you are right, father," Michel replied, with a smile; "to -work quickly and well, one must combine presence of mind with an ardent -will; he must have fever in his blood and a clear head. He must be able -to think and act simultaneously. No, that power certainly is not given -to everyone; and it is a painful thing to see so many feeble and -incompetent organizations in proportion to the small number of placid -and powerful ones. Alas! I am alarmed for myself, notwithstanding the -praise you have just given me, for I rarely feel in that powerful and -productive humor, and if I was in that humor just now, I owe it to your -example." -</p> -<p> -"No, no, Michel, no example is of any use to the impotent. Poor -creatures! they do what they can, and that is an excellent reason why -those who are stronger and more capable should make it their duty to -relieve them. Do you not feel glad and proud to have done it?" -</p> -<p> -"You are right, father! you can find the noble and praiseworthy aspect -of my instincts better than I can myself. Ah! Pier-Angelo, you do not -know how to read, and you have had me taught a thousand things that you -do not know. And yet you are the light of my mind, and, at every step I -take, I feel that you are helping to open a blind man's eyes." -</p> -<p> -"That is well said!" cried honest Pier-Angelo, with artless joy. "I wish -that could be written down. It reminded me of when the actors recite -noble sentences on the stage. Let us see, how did you say it? repeat it -for me. You called me by my name, as if I were not here, and you were -thinking aloud of your old friend. Oh! I love fine words, that I do! -<i>Pier-Angelo, you do not know how to write</i>—you began so. And -then you compared yourself to a blind man whose light I was—I, a -poor ignorant fellow, whose heart sees clear for you, Michel, none the -less. I wish I could write poetry in pure Tuscan; but I only know how to -improvise in my Sicilian dialect, in which, provided you rhyme in -<i>i</i> and <i>u</i> you can always succeed in producing something that -resembles poetry. If I could I would write a beautiful ballad about the -love and modesty of a son who attributes to his old simpleton of a -father all that he discovers about himself; a ballad! there is nothing -in the world more perfect than a good ballad. I know a great many of -them, but there are very few with which I am perfectly satisfied. I -would like to be able to supply something that is lacking in them all. -That reminds me that I shall have to sing to-night at supper. Hum! after -swallowing such a lot of dust! but there will be plenty of good wine for -the workmen to drink. Don't you mean to come? Evidently you don't like -to drink with everybody. Perhaps you are right. They say that you are -proud; but, on the other hand, you are sober and dignified. You must do -what suits you. After all, it's of no use for you to talk, you will -never be a simple mechanic like me, whatever you may do. You help me at -my work now, and that is well done. But once our little debts are paid, -you will return to Rome, for I propose that you shall continue the noble -studies that attract you so." -</p> -<p> -"Ah! father, every word you say goes to my heart. Our little debts! it -was I who contracted them, not only for useful studies, but for foolish -diversions and insane, childish vanities. And when I think that each -year I pass at Rome costs you the whole avails of your toil!" -</p> -<p> -"Even so! for whom should I earn money, if not for my son?" -</p> -<p> -"But you rob yourself!" -</p> -<p> -"Of nothing at all. I find friendship and confidence wherever I am -employed; and except a little good wine, which is an old man's milk, and -which is neither scarce nor dear in our blessed climate, thank God! I -need nothing. What does a man of my age require? Must I think of the -future? Your sister is industrious; she will find a good husband. Is not -my present lot what my lot will be to my last hour? There is nothing new -for me to learn which I can put to any use. Why should I hoard money? to -hoard it for your maturer years would be absurd; it would simply be -depriving your youth of the means of developing and making sure of the -future." -</p> -<p> -"Alas! it is the thought of your future that terrifies me, father! An -old man's future is loss of strength, infirmity, neglect, destitution! -And suppose all your sacrifices were wasted! Suppose I should prove to -be devoid of virtue, intelligence, courage, talent! Suppose I should not -succeed in making my fortune, in finding a good husband for my sister, -and in assuring your comfort and security in your old age!" -</p> -<p> -"Nonsense! nonsense! it is insulting Providence to doubt yourself when -you are conscious of being disposed to do what is right. Besides, let us -put everything in the worst light, and you will see that nothing is -lost. I will assume that you are simply an ordinary artist; you will -still earn your living, and as you do not lack wit, you will know how to -be contented with such pleasures as are within your reach. You will do -like me, who, although I have never been rich, have never considered -myself poor, because my wants have never exceeded my resources. That is -a philosophy with which you are not familiar as yet, because you are at -the age of expansive desires and expansive hopes; but it will come to -you if your plans fail. Mind you, I do not admit that they can fail. -That is why I do not preach moderation to you now. Power is still -better. The man who aims true at the ring with his lance is drunk with -joy. He carries off the prize, and congratulates himself on having had -the courage to compete. But he who has broken several lances with no -result goes away saying: 'My luck is bad; I will not try again.' And he -too is pleased that he has profited by experience and has had the -courage to read himself a salutary lesson. But the evening breeze dries -the perspiration on my old forehead a little too quickly; I am going to -the pantry to eat and drink. As there is nothing more for you to do -here, you may as well get our tools together and go home." -</p> -<p> -"And when will you come home, father?" -</p> -<p> -"Ah! Michel, I don't know when or how! it will depend on how much I -enjoy the supper. You know that I am very sober, generally speaking, and -drink only to quench my thirst; but if they lead me on to laugh and -sing, and chatter, I get excited and have paroxysms of merriment and -poetic enthusiasm which carry me off to the moon; and then it's of no -use to talk to me about going to bed. Don't be anxious about me. I shall -not fall down in a corner, I am not a beastly sot; my drunkenness is -that of brilliant minds, on the contrary, and I never act more -reasonably than when I am a little mad; that is to say, I shall be at -work again here at daylight to-morrow, to assist in undoing all we have -done this week, and I shall be less tired than if I had passed the night -in my bed." -</p> -<p> -"You must despise me for being unable to find in wine the superhuman -strength that it gives you!" -</p> -<p> -"You have never cared to try!" cried the old man; and he added -instantly: "and you have done well! because at your age it is an -unnecessary stimulant. Ah! when I was young the lightest glance from a -woman would have given me more strength than the whole of the princess's -cellar would give me at this moment! Well, good-night, my boy." -</p> -<p> -As he spoke, Pier-Angelo started up the wooden staircase he had helped -to put in place, for he and his son had been talking in the garden, -where he had thrown himself on the turf to recover his breath. Michel -detained him, and, instead of leaving him, said with inexplicable -emotion: -</p> -<p> -"Father, are you entitled to remain at the ball after the invited guests -have arrived?" -</p> -<p> -"Why, surely," replied Pier-Angelo, surprised by the young man's manner. -"Several of us were selected from each branch of trade, about a hundred -men in all, to see that nothing goes wrong during the festivity. In the -midst of so much commotion, a board may give way, or a piece of canvas -get loose and take fire from the candles; a thousand accidents always -have to be guarded against, and a certain number of tried arms always -kept in readiness to repair them. We may have nothing to do; and in that -case we shall pass the night merrily at table; but, whatever happens, we -are at hand. Moreover, we have the right to go everywhere, in order to -have an eye upon everything and to prevent fire, confusion, the bad -smell from the candles that go out, the fall of a picture, a chandelier, -a vase, heaven knows what! We are always wanted, and we make a circuit -of the rooms, turn and turn about, if for nothing more than to prevent -pickpockets from creeping in." -</p> -<p> -"And you are paid to do this servant's work?" -</p> -<p> -"We are paid if we choose. To those who do it purely from good-will the -princess always makes some acceptable present, and for old friends like -me she always has a pleasant word and some delicate little attention. -And then, even if it brought me in nothing, isn't it my duty to place my -foresight, my activity, and my loyalty at the service of a woman whom I -esteem as much as I esteem her? I have no need of her assistance as yet; -but I have seen how she helps those who get into difficulty, and I know -that she would dress my wounds with her own hands if I were wounded." -</p> -<p> -"Yes, yes, I know all about that," rejoined Michel, gloomily; -"benevolence, charity, pity, alms-giving!" -</p> -<p> -"Come, come! Master Pier-Angelo," said a valet, who passed them at that -moment, "it is time to change your clothes. Take off your apron, the -guests are arriving; go to the dressing-room, or to the buffet first, if -you like." -</p> -<p> -"True," said Pier-Angelo, "we are a little untidy to rub elbows with -such beautiful gowns. Farewell, Michel, I am going to beautify myself. -Go home and rest." -</p> -<p> -Michel glanced at his own clothes, which were soiled and torn in a -thousand places. His pride returned; he slowly descended the steps -leading to the main ball-room and walked across it, amid the resplendent -groups which were beginning to appear. A young man who entered as Michel -was going out jostled him roughly. Michel was on the point of flying -into a rage; but he restrained himself when he saw that the young man in -question was as distraught as he. -</p> -<p> -He was a youth of some twenty-five years, of small stature and with a -most attractive face. And yet, both in his face and bearing there was -something peculiar which attracted Michel's attention, although he could -not explain to his own satisfaction why he should take an interest in -the stranger. It is certain, however, that there must have been -something unusual about him, for the door-keeper to whom he had handed -his card of admission glanced several times from him to the card and -from the card to him, as if he wished to make sure that it was all -right. He had not taken three steps into the room when other people -turned their eyes upon him as if by virtue of a contagious impulse, and -Michel, still standing by the door, heard a lady say to the gentleman -who escorted her: -</p> -<p> -"Who is that man? I do not know him." -</p> -<p> -"Nor do I," was the reply; "but what do you expect? In a company so -numerous as this is likely to be, do you fancy that you will not meet -many strange faces?" -</p> -<p> -"Of course, I expect to," replied the lady, "and we shall see, in this -ball for which anyone can buy a ticket, a mixture that will amuse us. To -begin with, I am amused by this person who has just come in, and has -stopped short under the first chandelier, as if he were looking for his -road through this huge room. Just look at him! it is very curious; he's -a handsome fellow!" -</p> -<p> -"Really, you are very much engrossed by that youth," said her escort, -who, whether lover or husband, knew Sicilian womankind by heart. And so, -instead of looking at the man to whom his attention was directed, he -looked behind, to see whether, while his attention was attracted in one -direction, someone on the other side did not hand her a note or exchange -a meaning glance with her. But, whether because she was really virtuous, -or by mere chance, she was sincere at that moment and looked at no one -but the stranger. -</p> -<p> -Michel did not go away, and yet he had ceased to think of the reckless -youth who had jostled him; he had espied, at the end of the ball-room, a -white dress and a coronet of diamonds which twinkled like pale stars. He -had seen the princess only an instant, and there were many other women -at the ball in white dresses, many other diadems of precious stones. -However, he was not mistaken as to her identity, and he could not take -his eyes from her. -</p> -<p> -The lady and gentleman who had noticed the arrival of the unknown young -man walked away, and Michel heard other voices at his side. -</p> -<p> -"I have seen that face somewhere, I don't know where," said a lady. -</p> -<p> -A pale, lovely young woman, who was walking with the last speaker, -exclaimed, in a tone which aroused Michel from his reverie: -</p> -<p> -"Ah! great God! what a resemblance!" -</p> -<p> -"Why! what is the matter, my dear?" -</p> -<p> -"Nothing; a memory, a resemblance; but it is not the same——" -</p> -<p> -"What are you talking about, pray?" -</p> -<p> -"I will tell you later. First of all, look at that man." -</p> -<p> -"That short young man? I certainly don't know him." -</p> -<p> -"Nor do I; but he bears a most appalling resemblance to a man -who——" -</p> -<p> -Michel heard no more; the beautiful young woman had lowered her voice as -she walked on. -</p> -<p> -Who could that man be who had just come in, and who already produced -such a marked sensation? Michel looked at him and saw that he was -retracing his steps as if he intended to go out; but he halted in front -of him and said in a voice as soft as a woman's: "My friend, will you be -kind enough to tell me which of all the ladies who are already here is -Princess Agatha de Palmarosa?" -</p> -<p> -"I have no idea," replied Michel, impelled by an instinctive feeling of -distrust and jealousy. -</p> -<p> -"Then you do not know her?" queried the stranger. -</p> -<p> -"No, signor," replied Michel, dryly. -</p> -<p> -The stranger entered the ball-room and plunged into the crowd, which was -rapidly increasing. Michel looked after him and observed something -peculiar in his carriage. Although he was dressed in the height of -fashion, and with an elaborateness which bordered on bad taste, he -seemed ill at ease in his clothes, like a man who had never before worn -a black coat and close-fitting breeches. And yet there was in his manner -a something haughty and distinguished which did not denote the petty -bourgeois in his Sunday garb. -</p> -<p> -As Michel turned to go away at last, he saw that the halberdier who was -guarding the door was equally engrossed by the stranger's appearance. -</p> -<p> -"I don't know," he was saying to Barbagallo, the majordomo, who had just -accosted him, apparently to question him; "I know a peasant who looks -like him, but it isn't the man." -</p> -<p> -A third retainer came up and said: -</p> -<p> -"That must be the Greek prince who arrived yesterday, or one of his -escort." -</p> -<p> -"Or else some follower of the Egyptian envoy," said the halberdier. -</p> -<p> -"Or else," added Barbagallo, "some Levantine merchant. When those people -leave off their native costume and dress in the European style, you -can't recognize them. Did he buy his ticket at the door? You mustn't -allow anybody to do that." -</p> -<p> -"He had his ticket in his hand; I saw him present it all open, and the -door-keeper said: 'Her Highness's signature.'" -</p> -<p> -Michel had not listened to this discussion; he was already well on his -way to Catania. -</p> -<p> -He returned to his humble abode and sat down on his bed; but he forgot -to lie down. As he threw back his hair, the weight of which made his -forehead hot, he saw a small flower fall. It was a white cyclamen -blossom. How had it broken off and clung to his hair? There was no -reason for much surprise or uneasiness. The place where he had worked -and hustled about, gone hither and thither a thousand times, was so -thickly strewn with flowers of all sorts. -</p> -<p> -But Michel did not remember that. He simply remembered the enormous -bouquet of cyclamen which the Princess of Palmarosa carried when he had -stooped tremblingly and kissed her hand. He put the flower to his lips; -it exhaled an intoxicating odor. He took his head in both hands. It -seemed to him that he was going mad. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap09"></a>IX -<br><br> -MILA -</h4> - -<p> -The mental disturbance which our young painter experienced at that -moment was due to two causes, one an absurd sort of jealousy, which had -taken possession of him like an attack of fever, with respect to -Princess Agatha; the other, a feeling of disquiet, because he had failed -to obtain that noble person's approval of his paintings. Of course it -was not mere love of gain, the desire to be paid more or less -handsomely, which worked upon him thus. So long as he had been engrossed -by the fever of production, he had given very little thought to the -subject of the signora's personal opinion; he had thought only of -succeeding, of satisfying himself; then, having almost succeeded in his -own eyes, and having not as yet seen his mysterious patroness, he had -wondered, with more hope than alarm, whether he should find enough -enlightened judges in that province to establish his reputation upon an -undertaking of that sort. In short, he had had so much to do up to the -last moment that he had not had time to analyze his anxiety. -</p> -<p> -When he was quite alone, he found that he was strangely disturbed by the -knowledge that people were passing judgment on his work, and that he -could not be there. What prevented him? No orders related to his humble -position in society, but a poignant false shame, which he did not feel -the strength to overcome. -</p> -<p> -And yet Michel was not cowardly, either as a man or as an artist. -Despite his youth he had already reflected deeply concerning his future -prospects, and he had already reviewed concisely enough the list of -successes and reverses connected with his destiny. Feeling that he was -seized with faint-heartedness at the outset, he was surprised, and tried -to fight against himself. But the more he questioned himself, the more -fully he recognized his weakness, but would not avow its cause. -Therefore we will give the reader that information. -</p> -<p> -At the bottom of this depression and alarm there lay a feeling of -uncertainty as to the opinion the princess had formed concerning him. -Pier-Angelo had told him that morning that during Sunday her highness -had inspected the ball-room; but that, as he was not present, he did not -know what she had said. Master Barbagallo, being in ill-humor because of -the numerous vexations attendant upon the fête, had spoken very coldly -to him on the subject, but had not said that the princess seemed -dissatisfied or that she criticised anything. Whereupon honest -Pier-Angelo had added, with his usual confidence: "Never fear, she knows -what is what. It is impossible that she should not be satisfied beyond -what she expected." Michel had surrendered to that confidence without -paying much heed to the question whether it was justified. He had said -to himself that, even if the princess were not a connoisseur, there -would soon be enough connoisseurs about her to guide her judgment. -</p> -<p> -Moreover, he was afraid of everybody now because he was afraid of the -princess. She had looked at him in a way that had completely upset him; -but she had said nothing to him; not a word of praise or encouragement -had accompanied that glance, which was more than kind, it is true, but -for that very reason incomprehensible. And suppose he had been mistaken -touching the expression of her face! suppose that, when she thus fixed -her lovely, joy-laden eyes upon him, she was thinking of some entirely -different person—her lover, perhaps, for she must have a lover, -whatever Magnani might say! -</p> -<p> -At the bare idea Michel felt faint and sick; he fancied that he saw the -princess leaning on the arm of the fortunate mortal for whose sake she -pretended to entertain no thought of marriage. They were glancing -absently at the young painter's work, and smiling as they looked into -each other's eyes, as if to say: -</p> -<p> -"What does it matter to us? nothing is beautiful, nothing exists for us, -except ourselves." -</p> -<p> -Weary of suffering so entirely without reason, Michel thought to conquer -and tranquillize himself by adopting a superb resolution. -</p> -<p> -"I will go to bed," he said to himself, "and sleep like a prince, like a -hero, while people are criticising me, disputing and perhaps getting -excited about me in yonder palace. To-morrow morning, father will come -and wake me, and tell me whether I have won the laurel wreath or have -been hissed. What does it matter to me, after all?" -</p> -<p> -It mattered so little to him, in very truth, that, instead of -undressing, he dressed to go to the ball. In a most extraordinary fit of -abstraction, he arranged his beautiful hair, which would have been a bit -too long for a strictly fashionable patrician, but which formed a -beautiful frame for his intelligent and impassioned face. He removed -with the greatest care all traces of toil; he donned his finest linen -and his best clothes; and when he had glanced at his little mirror, he -decided, and with good reason, that no guest at the princess's ball -would present a more distinguished figure than he. -</p> -<p> -Having thus prepared for bed, he left the house, and when he had taken -ten steps out of doors, he discovered that an inexplicable preoccupation -was leading him in the direction of the Palmarosa palace. Indignant with -himself, he returned, took off his coat, tossed it on the bed, opened -his window and sat beside it, torn between the heroic determination to -retire and the irresistible temptation to go and witness the fête. -</p> -<p> -The countless lights of the palace twinkled before his eyes, the notes -of the orchestra reached his ears through the echoing night. Carriages -were rolling in all directions; no one was asleep in the city or the -outlying country. Indeed, it was not nine o'clock, and Michel felt -little inclined to sleep. He closed his window and started to take up a -book; but the cyclamen, which he had tossed upon the table in an -outburst of anger against himself, was the only object within his reach. -</p> -<p> -Thereupon it seemed to him that, through the delicate and penetrating -odor of musk exhaled by the pink-tipped petals of that pretty little -flower, he saw palpable images take shape and gather about him. Women, -lights, flowers, gushing waters, diamonds with a bluish gleam; and with -the things which seemed real, fanciful things were mingled as in a -dream. Lovely dancing-girls of antique times, whom Michel had painted on -the ceiling, stood forth gracefully from the canvas, and, raising their -azure and purple tunics above their knees, glided through the crowd, and -cast upon him as they passed lewd glances and mysterious smiles. Drunk -with desire, he followed them, and lost them, and found them again, seizing -one by her floating girdle, another by her transparent <i>peplum</i>, -but exhausting himself in vain efforts, in vain entreaties, to detain -them and give them substance. -</p> -<p> -Then a white female passed slowly and took sole possession of his -vagrant passion. She stopped in front of him and gazed at him, at first -with stony eyes, which gradually became animated and ended by flashing -flames, whereby he felt that he was being consumed. Lying motionless at -her feet, he saw her stoop over him. He fancied that he felt her breath -upon his brow; but instantly the giddy band of Latin harlots entangled -him in a network of multi-colored tunics and whirled him upward toward -the ceiling. Then he found himself alone on his ladder, smeared with -paint, covered with dirt, exhausted, gasping for breath, in a ghastly -solitude, dimly lighted by a vague gleam of daylight. Silence hovered -over the cold, deserted rooms; naught remained of his vision save a -little broken flower, whose fragrance he had exhausted by inhaling it. -</p> -<p> -This hallucination became so painful that Michel, in terror, pushed the -cyclamen away once more, thinking that there must be something soporific -or poisonous in its exhalations. But he could not make up his mind to -destroy it. He placed it in a glass of water and opened his window -again. -</p> -<p> -"Why suffer thus without reason and without any object?" he said to -himself; "is it a woman's glance, or the distant view of a great fête, -that makes my disordered imagination run riot thus? Very well! if the -mad creature is untamable, let her have her way; doubtless the spectacle -of what really is will either extinguish her frenzy or furnish it with -fresh food. I shall either become calm, or suffer in some new way; what -does it matter!" -</p> -<p> -"What is the trouble, that you are talking to yourself so, Michel?" said -a soft voice, while at the same time the door of his little chamber -opened behind him. And Michel, turning his head, saw his little sister -Mila, who approached him on tiptoe, with bare feet and her body wrapped -in a <i>piddemia</i>—a brown cloak worn by the women of the people. -</p> -<p> -No one in the world was so pretty, so sweet, and so lovable as Mila. -Michel had always loved her dearly. And yet her appearance at that -moment caused him some vexation. -</p> -<p> -"What are you doing here, little one?" he said; "why aren't you asleep?" -</p> -<p> -"Asleep already!" she said, "when I hear carriages rumbling through the -streets and see the princess's palace shining yonder like a star? Oh! I -cannot sleep! Our father made me promise to go to bed as usual, and not -to go running about the palace with the other girls, to try to look at -the fête through the open doors. So I went to bed, and although those -violins, which you can hear from here, made my heart beat time, I was -determined to go to sleep, when my friend Nenna came and asked me to go -with her." -</p> -<p> -"And you mean to go, Mila? to disobey your father? to loiter about that -house, which is all surrounded by servants, beggars and vagabonds, with -a hare-brained creature like Nenna? You shall not do it, I forbid you!" -</p> -<p> -"Oh! you needn't put on those high and mighty paternal airs, my dear -brother," retorted Mila, in an offended tone. "Do you suppose I am mad -enough to listen to Nenna? I sent her away; she is a long way from here, -and I was going to sleep again when I heard you walking about and -talking. I thought father was with you; but I saw through the crack of -the door that you were alone, and then ——" -</p> -<p> -"Then you came in here to chatter, in order to avoid going to sleep, -eh?" -</p> -<p> -"It is true that I have no desire to go to bed so early, and father -didn't forbid me to listen and look on from a distance at what is going -on up there! Oh! how beautiful it must be! You can see much better from -your window than from mine, Michel; do let me feast my eyes on that -beautiful bright light!" -</p> -<p> -"No, little one. The wind is cool to-night, and you have almost no -clothes on. I am going to shut the window and go to bed. Go and do the -same; good-night." -</p> -<p> -"You are going to bed; and have just dressed yourself! what did you do -it for, pray? Michel, you are deceiving me, you are going to see the -ball, you are going in! I will bet that you are invited, and that you -won't tell me so!" -</p> -<p> -"Invited! they don't invite people like us to such grand affairs, my -poor dear! When we enter that palace, we go as workmen, not as friends." -</p> -<p> -"What difference does that make, so long as you're there? Then you are -going? Oh! how I would like to be in your place!" -</p> -<p> -"Why, what is the meaning of this frantic desire to see this fête?" -</p> -<p> -"To see what is beautiful, Michel, isn't that all? When you draw a -beautiful figure, I take more pleasure in looking at it, perhaps, than -you do who drew it." -</p> -<p> -"But if you were there, it would be on condition that you were hidden in -some hole, for if they saw you, they would turn you out; you could not -even show yourself, much less dance!" -</p> -<p> -"Very true; but I should see the others dance, and that would be much." -</p> -<p> -"You are a child. Good-night." -</p> -<p> -"I see that you aren't willing to take me!" -</p> -<p> -"No, surely not; I can't. They would turn you out, and I should have to -break the head of some insolent lackey for insulting you when you were -on my arm." -</p> -<p> -"What! isn't there some little corner no bigger than your hand, where I -could hide? I am so small! Look, Michel, I could get into your cupboard. -Anyway, you could take me to the door without taking me in, and father -would not be angry to know that I was there with you." -</p> -<p> -Michel preached a beautiful sermon to Mila on the subject of childish -curiosity, and the violent instinctive longing which she felt to -intoxicate herself with the spectacle of patrician grandeur. He forgot -that he was consumed by the same longing, and that he was anxious to be -alone so that he might give way to it. -</p> -<p> -Mila listened to reason when Michel told her that he was going to assist -his father to overlook the decorations of the ball; but she heaved a -deep sigh, none the less. -</p> -<p> -"Well," she said, tearing herself away from the window, "it's no use to -think any more about it. However, it's my own fault; for if I had had -any idea that I should be so wild to go, I could very easily have asked -the princess to invite me." -</p> -<p> -"Now you are going mad again, just as I thought you were becoming -reasonable, Mila! As if the princess could have invited you, even if she -had taken it into her head to do it!" -</p> -<p> -"Why, of course she could; isn't she the mistress of her own house?" -</p> -<p> -"Even so! what would all those ancient dowagers, all those august -blockheads say, if they should see little Mila, with her velvet jacket -and striped skirt, dancing about among their noble dolls of daughters?" -</p> -<p> -"Let me tell you, that I might perhaps cut a better figure than all of -them, young and old!" -</p> -<p> -"That is no reason." -</p> -<p> -"I know that; but the princess is a queen in her house, and I will bet -that she will invite me to the first ball she chooses to give." -</p> -<p> -"You will ask her to, I suppose?" -</p> -<p> -"To be sure! I know her, and she is very fond of me; she is a friend of -mine." -</p> -<p> -As she said this, Mila drew herself up and assumed an air of importance, -so comical and so fascinating that Michel laughed and kissed her. -</p> -<p> -"I like to see, Mila," he said, "that you have no suspicion of anything. -And why should I deceive you? You will lose soon enough the trustful -illusions of your age of gold! But, since you know this beautiful -princess so well, pray tell me something about her, my dear little -sister; tell me how it happens that you are so intimately acquainted -with her, without my knowing anything about it?" -</p> -<p> -"Aha! Michel, you are curious to know that, now! But since you have -shown so little eagerness to question me, you will kindly wait a little -longer, until it pleases me to answer you." -</p> -<p> -"So it's a secret, is it?" -</p> -<p> -"Perhaps! what do you care?" -</p> -<p> -"I care very little, in truth, to know anything whatsoever concerning -this princess. She has a fine palace, I work there, she pays me, and I -care little about anything else for the moment. But nothing that -interests my little Mila can be indifferent to me, nor should it be -hidden from me, in my opinion." -</p> -<p> -"Now you are flattering me to make me speak. Well, I will not speak, -there! But I will show you something that will make you open your eyes. -See, what do you say to this pretty thing?" -</p> -<p> -And Mila took from her bosom a locket surrounded by large diamonds. -</p> -<p> -"They are fine stones," she said, "and worth I don't know how much -money. Enough to provide me with a marriage portion if I chose to sell -them; but I will never part with them, because they came from my best -friend." -</p> -<p> -"And that friend is the Princess of Palmarosa?" -</p> -<p> -"Yes, Agatha Palmarosa; don't you see her cipher engraved on the gold of -the locket?" -</p> -<p> -"Yes, that is true! But what is there inside this priceless trinket?" -</p> -<p> -"Hair, lovely light chestnut hair, with a touch of gold, naturally -curly, and so fine!" said the girl, opening the locket. "Isn't it soft -and glossy?" -</p> -<p> -"That isn't the princess's, for hers is black." -</p> -<p> -"So you have seen her, after all?" -</p> -<p> -"Yes, I just caught a glimpse of her. But tell me, Mila, whose hair you -wear against your heart, and in such a valuable locket?" -</p> -<p> -"How inquisitive you are! you are blind and dull, too, like all -inquisitive people. Don't you recognize it? Don't you remember where I -got it?" -</p> -<p> -"No, indeed, I do not." -</p> -<p> -"Well, put it against yours and you will recognize it, although your -head has grown a little darker in a year." -</p> -<p> -"Dear little sister! yes, I do remember now that you cut it from my head -the day you left Rome—and you have kept it all this time!" -</p> -<p> -"I used to carry it in a little black bag. My friend Agatha asked of -what saint I carried a relic in my scapulary, and when I told her that -it was my darling and only brother's hair, she took it and said she -would send it back to me the next day; and the next day she sent me by -father this lovely locket filled with your hair. However, some of it was -missing. The jeweller who put it inside either stole it or lost it." -</p> -<p> -"Lost it, that may be," said Michel, with a smile; "but as for stealing -it! This hair has no value to anyone but you, Mila!" -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap10"></a>X -<br><br> -PROBLEM -</h4> - -<p> -"But, after all, what is the source of this friendship of the princess -for you," continued Michel, after a pause; "what have you ever done for -her that she should make you such presents?" -</p> -<p> -"Nothing at all. Father, who is on excellent terms with her, took me to -the palace one day to present me to her. She took a fancy to me; she -paid me all sorts of attentions; she asked me for my friendship, and I -promised it and gave it to her at once. I passed the day all alone with -her, walking about her villa and the gardens. Since then I go there when -I choose, and I am always sure of being well received." -</p> -<p> -"And you go often?" -</p> -<p> -"I have never been but twice, for it isn't long since I first knew her. -I know that the palace has been turned upside down this last week by the -preparations for the ball, and I was afraid of being in poor Agatha's -way when, of course, she had a thousand things to do. But I shall go in -two or three days." -</p> -<p> -"So that is the whole of the mystery, is it? Why did you need so much -urging to tell it?" -</p> -<p> -"Oh! because the princess said to me when I came away: 'Mila, please -don't tell anyone about the delightful day we have passed together and -the friendship we have formed. I have my reasons for asking you to keep -it secret. You shall know them later, and I know that I can rely on your -promise if you will give it to me.'—As you can imagine, Michel, I did -not refuse it." -</p> -<p> -"Very good; but you are breaking your word now." -</p> -<p> -"No, I am not. You are not <i>anybody</i> to me, and, of course, the -princess didn't suppose I would have any secrets from my father or my -brother." -</p> -<p> -"Does my father know all this, then?" -</p> -<p> -"Certainly, I told him about it at once." -</p> -<p> -"And he was neither surprised nor disturbed by this whim of the -princess?" -</p> -<p> -"Why surprised, please? It is your surprise that is very strange and a -little impertinent, Michel. Am I not capable of inspiring friendship, -even in a princess? And why disturbed? Is not friendship a good and -pleasant thing?" -</p> -<p> -"Still, my child, I am, if not disturbed, at all events astonished at -this friendship. Tell me this, which may explain it in some measure. Has -our father rendered Princess Agatha some great service?" -</p> -<p> -"He has done much beautiful decorating in the palace. He has made some -superb foliage in the dining-room among other things." -</p> -<p> -"I have seen all that; but he is well paid. The princess has taken a -liking to him because of his zeal and disinterestedness, I suppose?" -</p> -<p> -"Yes, that must be it. Isn't it true that anybody who knows father for a -little time loves him?" -</p> -<p> -"That is so. Then it is because of our excellent father that you arouse -so much interest in this great lady!" -</p> -<p> -"Oh! Michel, she isn't a great lady, I tell you! she's a good woman, a -kind, lovely woman." -</p> -<p> -"And what could she find to say to you, my child, for a whole day?" -</p> -<p> -"She asked me a thousand questions, about myself and father and you, -about our life in Rome, your occupations, our home life and our tastes. -I really believe that she made me tell our whole history day by day, -ever since I was born; I talked so much that I was tired out that -evening." -</p> -<p> -"It seems that this lady is terribly inquisitive; for what does it all -matter to her?" -</p> -<p> -"Now you mention it, I believe that she is a little inquisitive; but it -is a pleasure to answer her questions; she listens to you with so much -interest, and she is so pleasant! Come, don't speak ill of her, or I -shall be angry with you!" -</p> -<p> -"Very well, let us say no more about her; God forbid that I should teach -you distrust and dread, my lovely angel heart! Go to bed, now; father is -waiting for me. To-morrow we will talk again of your adventure, for -surely this great friendship with a beautiful princess is a marvellous -adventure in a life like yours—although she no more thinks of you now -than of the last pair of slippers she wore. No matter! don't put on that -injured air. It may be that, some day when she is lonely and idle, the -Princess of Palmarosa will send for you, to be entertained again by your -prattle." -</p> -<p> -"You don't know what you are saying, Michel. The princess is not idle, -and if you insist upon taking it this way, I will tell you that, -kind-hearted as she is, she has the reputation of being decidedly cold -with people of our station. Some say that she is proud, others that she -is timid. The fact is that she always speaks pleasantly and courteously -to the workmen and servants who come in contact with her, but that she -speaks to them so little, so little!—that she is noted for it, and -that some people who have worked for her for years have never known the -sound of her voice and have hardly seen her in her own house. So that -her friendship for father and me is no commonplace thing; it is genuine -friendship, and your mockery will never prevent me from relying upon it. -Good-night, Michel; I am not very well pleased with you to-night; I -never saw you with this sarcastic air before. You talk as if you meant -to say that I am only a little girl and no one can love me!" -</p> -<p> -"That is not my thought, so far as I myself am concerned, at all events! -for, little slip of a girl as you are, I adore you!" -</p> -<p> -"What did you say, brother? You adore me? that is a lovely word. Kiss -me." -</p> -<p> -The child threw herself into his arms. Michel embraced her lovingly, and -as she laid her lovely brown head on his shoulder, he kissed the long -hair that fell over the girl's half uncovered back. -</p> -<p> -But suddenly he pushed her away with a painful shudder. All the burning -thoughts that had excited his brain an hour earlier recurred to his mind -with the vividness of remorse, and it seemed to him that his lips were -no longer pure enough to bless his little sister. -</p> -<p> -He was no sooner alone than he rushed through the door of the old house -in which he lived, without pausing to close that of his room. To tell -the truth, he paid no heed to the distance he travelled, and, still -haunted by his dreams, he fancied that he stepped directly from the -landing of his attic to the marble peristyle of the villa. And yet it -was nearly a mile from the last houses of the suburb of Catania to the -gateway of the palace. -</p> -<p> -The first face upon which his eyes fell as he was about to enter the -ball-room was that of the stranger to whom his attention had been -attracted as he went away. The young man was walking slowly from the -room, wiping his forehead with a handkerchief trimmed with lace. Michel, -puzzled by his conduct, and wondering if it were not a woman in -disguise, resolutely accosted him. -</p> -<p> -"Well, my friend," he said, "did you succeed in seeing Princess Agatha?" -</p> -<p> -The stranger, who seemed absorbed by his thoughts, raised his head -abruptly, and darted at Michel a glance instinct with such inexplicable -distrust, and even malevolence, that the young painter felt a sort of -cold shiver run down his back. It was not the glance of a woman, but of -a forceful and hot-tempered man. The feeling of hostility is unfamiliar -to youthful hearts, and Michel's contracted as with a sudden pang. It -seemed to him that the stranger instinctively felt for a knife in his -gold embroidered satin waistcoat, and he followed his movements with -surprise. -</p> -<p> -"How does it happen?" said the other, in the same soft voice, in marked -contrast to his angry, threatening manner, "that you were a mechanic a -short time ago, and that now you are a gentleman?" -</p> -<p> -"The fact is that I am neither one nor the other," replied Michel, with -a smile; "I am an artist employed in the palace. Do you feel more at -ease? my question seems to have disturbed you greatly. However, one -question deserves another. Did you not ask me one without knowing me?" -</p> -<p> -"Do you mean to jest, signor?" retorted the stranger, who spoke in -excellent Italian, without any accent to justify the Greek or Egyptian -antecedents suggested by Barbagallo. -</p> -<p> -"Not in the least," replied Michel, "and, as for my accosting you, pray -pardon an impulsive exhibition of curiosity entirely free from -malevolent intention." -</p> -<p> -"Curiosity! why curiosity?" rejoined the unknown, clenching his teeth -and crowding his words together in peculiarly Sicilian fashion. -</p> -<p> -"Faith! I have no idea," replied Michel. "We have had enough discussion -over a thoughtless word; I had no purpose of offending you. If your -displeasure continues, do not look about for pretexts to begin a -quarrel, for I have no intention of avoiding it." -</p> -<p> -"Are not you the one who seeks to quarrel with me?" rejoined the -stranger, with a glance more threatening than the first. -</p> -<p> -"On my word, signor, you are mad," said Michel, with a shrug. -</p> -<p> -"You are right," retorted the unknown, "for I stand here listening to -the idle talk of a fool." -</p> -<p> -The words had no sooner passed his lips than Michel rushed at him with a -sudden determination to strike him. But, fearing lest he might strike a -woman, for the stranger's sex still seemed to him very doubtful, he -paused; and he congratulated himself when he saw that problematical -personage turn upon his heel and vanish so quickly that Michel could not -determine in what direction he had gone, and concluded that he had been -dreaming again. -</p> -<p> -"Surely I am beset by phantoms to-night," he said to himself. But as -soon as he found himself in presence of real mortals, he recovered the -notion of reality. He was asked for his card of admission. He gave his -name. -</p> -<p> -"Ah! Michel," said the door-keeper, "I did not know you. How fine you -are! You look like an invited guest. Go in, my boy, and pay close -attention to the lights. The pretty stuff that you have hung over our -heads would take fire so quickly! It seems that you are coming in for a -deal of praise. Everybody says that the figures are done by a master -hand." -</p> -<p> -Michel was offended at being addressed thus familiarly by a servant, -offended at being assigned to the duties of fireman, and secretly -delighted nevertheless at having obtained a triumph which was already -the talk of the antechamber. -</p> -<p> -He glided into the crowd, hoping to pass through unnoticed and to reach -some secluded corner where he could see and hear at his ease; but there -were so many people in the great ball-room that they brushed against one -another and trod on one another's feet. He was carried to the other end -of the vast structure before he realized the impetus that the compact -mass had imparted to him; and thus he arrived at the foot of the great -staircase. Not until then was he able to stop, gasping for breath, and -open his eyes, nostrils, ears, and mind, to the enchanting spectacle of -the fête. -</p> -<p> -Being somewhat above the flower-bedecked benches, he could see at a -glance both the dances in progress about the fountains, and the -spectators who jostled and squeezed one another to watch the dances. The -noise and glare and commotion were well adapted to dazzle and bewilder -a more mature brain than Michel's. What an array of lovely women, -marvellous jewels, white shoulders and resplendent head-dresses! What -majestic or alluring charms! What merriment, feigned or genuine! What -airs of languor, counterfeited or ill dissembled! -</p> -<p> -Michel was intoxicated for an instant; but when his eyes began to see -more clearly and to separate the countless details of the scene,—when -he asked himself which of all those women would be, in his mind, an -ideal model,—he looked up at the ideal figures he had painted in the -ceiling, and was better satisfied, vain-glorious youth, with his own -work than with God's. -</p> -<p> -He had dreamed of perfect beauty. He believed that he had found it in -the creations of his brush. He was probably mistaken; for it is -impossible to create a divine image without giving it human features, -and nothing on earth is blessed with absolute perfection. However that -may have been, Michel, still faltering and awkward in his art in several -respects, had approached as nearly as possible to perfect beauty in his -types. That was what impressed all those who examined his work; above -all, that was what impressed him when he sought among real persons the -personification of his ideas. Among the whole number he saw only two or -three women who seemed truly beautiful, and even those two or three he -would have liked to hold against his canvas, in order to take away from -one or give to another a certain outline or a certain coloring, wherein -they seemed to him to lack fullness or purity. -</p> -<p> -He was perfectly cool,—cool as an artist analyzing a -figure,—and he realized that the human countenance made up for its -shortcomings in the way of perfection of feature solely by the -expression of life. -</p> -<p> -"I have drawn more beautiful faces," he said to himself, "but they are -not true. They do not think, they do not breathe, they do not love. It -would be better that they should be less beautiful and more animate. -When I roll up these canvases to-morrow, I will destroy them all, and -then I will change them, and, it may be, overturn all the ideas which -have guided me hitherto." -</p> -<p> -And he abandoned the quest for ideal perfection of form among the living -dancers whom he was studying, to watch their movements, their grace, the -attitudes of the body, the expression of the glance and smile; in a -word, the secret of life. -</p> -<p> -Enchanted at first, he felt that he grew cold once more as he analyzed -each being by itself. In all probability there are many ingenuous souls -among women and among men; but there are very few ingenuous faces to be -found at a ball in fashionable society. People there assume expressions -which are almost always at variance with their characters, whether they -are seeking to attract or to shun attention. Michel fancied that he -could see that some were hypocritically concealing their vanity, while -others arrogantly flaunted it; that this girl, who desired to seem -amorous, was cold and blasé; that the gayety of that other was dismal, -and the melancholy of a third a pretence. A parvenu strove to assume the -air of a man of noble birth; a noble strove to adopt the bearing of a -man of the people. Everybody posed more or less. The most humble tried -to seem self-possessed, and even touching timidity struggled to avoid -the awkwardness which triumphed over its efforts. -</p> -<p> -Michel saw several young mechanics of his acquaintance pass. They were -performing the duties which they had undertaken, and they attracted -attention by their manly appearance and by a touch of picturesqueness in -their holiday attire. The majordomo had evidently selected them from among -the most <i>presentable</i>, and they were well aware of it; for they, -too, posed artlessly: one put forward each shoulder in turn to display -its enormous breadth; another made the most of every inch of his great -stature as he passed many a diminutive great personage; a third elevated -the arch of his eyebrows to show the fair dames an eye as bright as a -carbuncle. -</p> -<p> -Michel was surprised to see those honest fellows transform themselves -so, and sacrifice the advantages of their natural dignity or their -attractive exterior by an affectation, perhaps involuntary, but -certainly ridiculous.—"I knew," he thought, "that all men eagerly -sought approbation, to whatever class or profession they might belong. -But why does this craving to attract attention suddenly deprive us of -the charm or the dignity of our manners? Can it be that the desire is -over-eager, or that the object is contemptible? Must beauty necessarily -be unconscious of itself in order to lose nothing of its splendor? Or am -I alone endowed with this intolerable clearness of vision? Where is the -intense enjoyment that I expected to find here? Instead of following -with interest the actions of other people, I am exerting myself to pass -judgment in cold blood on everything that meets my eye, and to deprive -myself of any external enjoyment!" -</p> -<p> -By dint of watching so closely and making so many comparisons, Michel -had forgotten the main object of his presence at the ball. He remembered -at last that he was especially desirous to study calmly a certain -figure, and he was about to ascend the great staircase and wander about -the interior of the palace, where all the rooms were open and lighted, -When, happening to turn his head, he saw close at hand a detail of the -decorations of which he had forgotten to observe the effect. -</p> -<p> -It was a rockwork grotto, which formed a recess of considerable size -under the staircase. He had himself decorated with shellwork, branches -of coral and picturesque plants, that cool retreat, at the farther end -of which an alabaster naiad poured water from her urn into a huge shell, -always brimming full of clear running water. -</p> -<p> -The taste Michel had displayed in all the details entrusted to him had -induced the majordomo to allow him to arrange many things as he chose; -and as this naiad had impressed him as a charming creation, he had taken -pleasure in placing in her grotto the prettiest vases, the daintiest -garlands and the finest rugs. He had spent a full hour surrounding the -mother-of-pearl shell with a border of moss, as fine and soft as velvet, -in selecting and arranging in graceful and charming disorder bunches of -iris and water-lilies, and those long ribbon-like leaves which harmonize -so perfectly with the undulating movement of running water. -</p> -<p> -Now the grotto was lighted by a pale light concealed behind the foliage; -and as everybody was intent upon watching the dance, the entrance was -unobstructed. Michel entered stealthily; but he had not taken three -steps when he saw a person seated, or rather reclining, in the -half-light, at the naiad's feet. He hastily concealed himself behind a -jutting rock, and was about to retire; but an irresistible fascination -detained him. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap11"></a>XI -<br><br> -THE GROTTO OF THE NAIAD -</h4> - -<p> -Princess Agatha was reclining on a divan of dark velvet, where her -graceful and noble figure resembled a ghost in the moonlight. Michel -could see her profile in the dim light, and the reflection of the -candles behind her outlined with admirable distinctness features as -delicate and pure as a young maid's. Her long full white gown assumed -all the shades of the opal in that soft light, and the diamonds in her -coronet shot flames of changing hue, now like the sapphire and again -like the emerald. Michel lost altogether the idea that he had formed of -her age when he first saw her. It seemed to him that she was a child, -and when he remembered that he had believed her to be above thirty, he -asked himself whether she was thus transfigured by a celestial radiance -or by a gleam from hell, wherewith she was able, like a sorceress, to -envelop herself in order to deceive the senses. -</p> -<p> -She seemed fatigued and depressed. But her attitude was modest and her -expression serene. She was inhaling the perfume of her bouquet of -cyclamen and playing idly with her fan. Michel gazed at her a long time -before he heard, or, at least, attached a meaning to the words she was -saying. She seemed to him lovelier than any of the beauties he had been -scrutinizing so closely, and he could not understand the unmixed, -boundless admiration which she aroused in him. He strove in vain to -examine her features in detail and analyze her charms; he could not -succeed. She seemed to be floating in a magic fluid which protected her -from being studied like other women. From time to time, thinking that he -understood her, he closed his eyes and tried to sketch her portrait in -his memory, to draw her in imagination, in strokes of flame, on the -black veil which he spread before his own eyes by lowering his lids. But -he saw naught but confused lines, and could not conjure up any distinct -face. He was compelled to reopen his eyes in haste and gaze at her with -anxiety, with intense delight, and above all, with surprise. -</p> -<p> -For there was a something indescribable about her. She was perfectly -natural; of all the women Michel had seen, she alone seemed to have no -thought of herself; she had assumed no studied air or manner; she did -not know, or did not choose to know, what people thought of her, what -they felt as they looked at her; she had the tranquillity of a mind -disassociated from all human things, and the entire freedom from -constraint that she might have had in absolute solitude. -</p> -<p> -And yet she was arrayed like a genuine princess; she was giving a ball, -she displayed her magnificence, she played her rôle of a great lady and -of a woman of the world, like any other, to all appearance. Why then -that madonna-like air, that inward meditation, or that rapt -contemplation of a soul above human vanities? -</p> -<p> -She was a living enigma to the young artist's restless imagination. -Something still more strange perplexed him beyond measure; and that was -that it seemed to him that he had not seen her that day for the first -time. -</p> -<p> -Where could he have seen her before? In vain did he rack his memory. -When he arrived at Catania her very name was strange to him. A person of -such exalted rank, and so remarkable by reason of her wealth, her -beauty, and her reputation for virtue, could not have come to Rome -<i>incognito</i>. Michel cudgelled his brain. He could recall no occasion -when he could have seen her; especially as when he looked at her, he had -a feeling, not that he had known her slightly, but that he had known her -intimately and for a long time, ever since he was born. -</p> -<p> -When he had exhausted his memory, he said to himself that there must be -some abstract reason for that sensation. It must be due to the fact that -she was the ideal type of beauty of which he had always dreamed, but -which he had never been able to grasp and produce. That was a poetic -commonplace. He was fain to be content with it for lack of a better. -</p> -<p> -But the princess was not alone, for she was talking; and Michel soon -discovered that she was tête-à-tête with a man. That was certainly a -reason to impel him to withdraw, but it was difficult to do so. To -preserve the mysterious obscurity of the grotto and exclude the -brilliant light of the ball-room, the entrance had been masked by a -heavy blue velvet curtain, which our inquisitive hero, by the merest -chance, had drawn aside a little way when he entered, without attracting -the attention of the two persons who were talking there. The entrance to -the grotto being only half as wide as the grotto itself, formed a frame, -not of artificial rocks, as would have been the case with us, in our -imitations of <i>rococo</i>, but of genuine blocks of lava, vitrified, and -of divers shades of color, curious and valuable specimens collected long -before in the very crater of the volcano to be set like jewels in the -masonry. This beautiful door-frame protruded far enough into the grotto -to conceal Michel, who was able to see because of its uneven surface. -But, in order to go out, he must raise the curtain again, and he could -hardly hope that both the princess and her companion would be -sufficiently engrossed not to notice him. -</p> -<p> -Michel thought of all this too late to avert the consequences of his -imprudence. It was too late for him to go out naturally, as he had -entered. Moreover he was nailed to his place by the most intense -curiosity and anxiety. Doubtless that man was the princess's lover. -</p> -<p> -He was a man of about thirty-five years, tall, and with a grave, sweet -face, wonderfully handsome and regular. In his manner, as he sat facing -Agatha at a distance, which indicated something betwixt respect and -intimacy, there was nothing to criticise; but when Michel had recovered -his presence of mind sufficiently to listen to the words that fell upon -his ears, he fancied that he could detect an indication of mutual -affection in this observation of the princess: -</p> -<p> -"Thank heaven it has not yet occurred to anyone to raise the curtain and -discover this delightful retreat; although I might naturally take some -pride in bringing my guests here,—for it is beautifully decorated -to-night,—I would like to pass the night here all alone, or with you, -marquis, while the fête and the dancing and the tumult run their course -behind the curtain." -</p> -<p> -The marquis replied, in a tone which did not indicate a presumptuous -man: -</p> -<p> -"You should have had the grotto closed altogether by a door to which you -alone had a key, and have transformed it into a private salon, whither -you could come from time to time to obtain some repose from the heat, -the glare and the compliments. You are not accustomed to society now, -and you were over-confident of your strength. You will be terribly tired -to-morrow." -</p> -<p> -"I am already; but it was not the crowd and the noise that broke me down -so in an instant." -</p> -<p> -"I understand that, my dear friend," said the marquis, pressing Agatha's -hand fraternally in his. "Try to think of something else, at least for a -few hours, so that your preoccupation may not be manifest; for you -cannot escape people's eyes, and, outside of this grotto, you have not -left yourself a single corner of your whole palace where you can take -refuge without running the gauntlet of obsequious salutations, -inquisitive glances—" -</p> -<p> -"And trite remarks with which I am already sated," added the princess, -struggling to smile. "How can anyone be fond of society, marquis? Can -you understand it?" -</p> -<p> -"I can understand it in the case of people who are satisfied with -themselves, and who think that it is always an advantage to exhibit -themselves." -</p> -<p> -"To my mind, the ball is delightful thus, at a distance, when we cannot -see it or be seen. There is something piquant—almost poetic—in -the buzzing, this distant music that we hear, and in the idea that people -are being amused or bored outside, and that we are not compelled to take -any part in it." -</p> -<p> -"But it is reported to-day that you are about to become reconciled to -society, and that this magnificent fête, which you are giving for love -of good works, will incline you to give or to see others. In short, they -say that you are going to change all your habits and reappear in the -world, like a star too long eclipsed." -</p> -<p> -"And why do people say such an extraordinary thing?" -</p> -<p> -"Ah! in order to answer that question, I should have to constitute -myself the echo of all the laudations to which you refused to listen; -and I am not in the habit of telling you even the truth when it bears a -resemblance to insipid compliments." -</p> -<p> -"I do you that justice, and I authorize you to-night to repeat all that -you have heard." -</p> -<p> -"Very well! People say that you are still lovelier than all those women -who take pains to appear lovely; that you outshine the most brilliant -and most admired women by a certain charm peculiar to yourself, and by -an air of noble simplicity which wins all hearts. They are beginning -anew to be surprised that you live in solitude, and—must I tell -everything?" -</p> -<p> -"Yes, absolutely everything." -</p> -<p> -"They say—I heard it with my own ears as I brushed against people who -had no idea that I was so near: 'What strange whim prevents her marrying -the Marquis della Serra?'" -</p> -<p> -"Go on, go on, marquis; say on; have no fear. They say, doubtless, that -I am the more ill-advised in that you are my lover?" -</p> -<p> -"No, signora, they do not say that," replied the marquis, in a -chivalrous tone; "and they will not say it, so long as I have a tongue -to deny it, and an arm to avenge your honor." -</p> -<p> -"Dear and generous friend!" exclaimed the princess, offering him her -hand; "you take that too seriously. I will wager that everybody believes -and says that we love each other." -</p> -<p> -"They may believe and say that I love you, for that is the truth; and -the truth always comes out sooner or later. That is why people know also -that you do not love me." -</p> -<p> -"Noble heart! But, now less than ever—— To-morrow I will talk -to you more freely on this subject than I have ever done. I will tell you -everything. This is neither a fitting time nor place. I must return to -the ball, where it is probable that my long absence causes surprise." -</p> -<p> -"Are you sufficiently rested and calm?" -</p> -<p> -"Yes; now I can resume my mask of impassibility." -</p> -<p> -"Ah! it costs you little to assume it, terrible woman!" cried the -marquis, rising and pressing convulsively to his breast the arm that she -had passed through his. "You are as invulnerable in the depths of your -heart as you are on the surface." -</p> -<p> -"Do not say that, marquis," said the princess, detaining him and looking -at him with a clear penetrating glance that sent a thrill through -Michel's whole being. "At this solemn moment of my life, that is a stab -of which you do not realize the depth. To-morrow, for the first time in -the twelve years that we have known without comprehending each other, -you will comprehend me perfectly! Come," she added, shaking her lovely -head, as if to banish serious thoughts, "let us go and dance! But first -let us say good-night to the naiad, so lovely in this light, and to this -charming grotto, which will soon be desecrated by the indifferent -multitude." -</p> -<p> -"Was it old Pier-Angelo who decorated it so beautifully?" inquired the -marquis, turning toward the naiad. -</p> -<p> -"No," replied the princess, "<i>it was he!</i>" -</p> -<p> -And hurrying from the room, as if impelled by a courageous resolution, -she suddenly drew the curtain aside and threw it upon Michel, who, by -unhoped-for good-fortune, was thus doubly concealed when she passed very -near him. -</p> -<p> -As soon as the disquietude due to his own situation as an interloper was -dispelled, he entered the grotto, and finding that he was quite alone -there, he sank upon the divan, beside the place the princess had -occupied. All that he had heard had agitated him strangely; but all the -reflections in which he might have indulged were overshadowed by the -last words that extraordinary woman had uttered. -</p> -<p> -Those words might have been an enigma to an absolutely humble and -innocent young man: "<i>No, it was not Pier-Angelo; it was he!</i>" What a -mysterious reply, or what extraordinary abstraction! But to Michel it -was not abstraction: that <i>he</i> did not relate to Pier-Angelo, but to -himself. To the princess, therefore, he was a person whom it was not -necessary to call by name, and she spoke of him in that concise and -emphatic way to a man who was in love with her. -</p> -<p> -That inexplicable sentence, and the reticence which had preceded it, her -refusal to admit that she loved the marquis, that <i>solemn moment of her -life</i> to which she had referred, that terrible shock which she said that -she had had during the evening, that important confidential -communication which she was to make the next day—did all of these -relate to Michel? -</p> -<p> -When he remembered the inexplicable glance she had bestowed upon him -when she saw him for the first time before the opening of the ball, he -was tempted to give way to the most insane presumptions. It is true -that, while she was talking with the marquis, there had been a moment -when her dreamy eyes had shone with no less extraordinary brilliancy; -but it seemed to Michel that their expression was not the same as when -they had looked into his. Glance for glance, he preferred the one that -had fallen to him. -</p> -<p> -Who could describe the marvellous and gorgeous romances which that rash -youth's brain developed during the next quarter of an hour? They were -all built upon the same foundation, the unheard-of genius of a young -artist who was ignorant of his own powers, and who had suddenly revealed -them in a brilliant and extensive piece of decorative work. The lovely -princess for whom that masterly work was undertaken had come often, by -stealth, to observe its progress, and during the week that the artist -had spent in the enchanted palace, taking his siesta and eating at -certain hours, in certain mysterious rooms, this invisible fairy had -come to gaze upon him, sometimes from behind a curtain, sometimes from a -rose-window in the wall. She had been smitten with love for his person -or with admiration for his talents—at any rate with an infatuation of -some sort for him; and that sentiment was so intense that she could not -summon the necessary self-possession to manifest it by words. Her glance -had revealed everything to him in spite of herself; and how should he, -trembling and bewildered as he was, find a way to tell her that he had -understood her? -</p> -<p> -He had reached that point when the Marquis della Serra, the princess's -adorer, suddenly reappeared before him and surprised him holding in his -hands the fan the princess had left on the divan, and gazing at it -without seeing it. -</p> -<p> -"I beg your pardon, my dear child," said the marquis, saluting him with -charming courtesy, "but I am compelled to deprive you of that object, -for which a lady has sent me. But if the Chinese pictures on this fan -interest you, I can place at your disposal a collection of interesting -vases and images from which you will be at liberty to choose." -</p> -<p> -"You are much too kind, signor marquis," replied Michel, offended by an -air of benevolence in which he fancied that he could detect an -impertinent assumption of superiority; "the fan does not interest me, -and Chinese painting is not to my taste." -</p> -<p> -The marquis perceived Michel's irritation, and rejoined with a smile: -</p> -<p> -"Presumably you have seen only coarse specimens of the art of that -people; but there are colored drawings, which, despite the elementary -simplicity of the process, are worthy to be compared with the Etruscan -vases in purity of outline and delightful artlessness of subjects. I -shall be happy to show you those that I own. It is a small pleasure -which I should be glad to afford you, but which would by no means pay my -debt to you, for I have taken very great pleasure in looking at your -paintings." -</p> -<p> -The marquis's tone was so sincere, and his face wore such an -unmistakable expression of kindliness, that Michel, attacked on his weak -side, could not refrain from saying ingenuously what he felt. -</p> -<p> -"I fear," he said, "that your lordship desires to encourage me by more -indulgence than I deserve; for I cannot suppose that you would stoop to -make sport of a young artist at the outset of his career." -</p> -<p> -"God forbid, my young friend!" replied the marquis, holding out his hand -with an irresistibly cordial air. "I know your father too well and -esteem him too highly not to be predisposed in your favor; that much I -must admit; but I can say to you in all sincerity that your paintings -disclose genius and give promise of talent. You see, I do not flatter -you; there are still great faults in your work, due to inexperience or -to overheated imagination: but there is a stamp of grandeur and -originality of conception which can neither be acquired nor lost. Work, -work, my young Michelangelo, and you will deserve the noble name you -bear." -</p> -<p> -"Are others of your opinion, signor marquis?" queried Michel, strongly -tempted to introduce the princess's name in the conversation. -</p> -<p> -"I think that everybody shares my opinion. Your defects are criticised -indulgently, your good qualities warmly praised; people are not -surprised at your brilliant performance when they learn that you are -from Catania and the son of Pier-Angelo Lavoratori, an excellent -workman, full of fire and spirit. We are loyal compatriots hereabout, -Michelangelo! We rejoice at the triumphs won by a child of the country, -and everyone generously claims a share in them. We esteem so highly -those who are born on our beloved soil, that we forget all distinctions -of rank, and nobles and peasants, artists and artisans, mutually -overlook their ancient prejudices and unite their prayers in a fervent -desire for national unity." -</p> -<p> -"Oho!" thought Michel, "the marquis is talking politics to me! I don't -know his opinions. Perhaps, if he has guessed the princess's feelings, he -proposes to try to ruin me! I will not trust him.—Will your lordship -tell me," he said aloud, "if the Princess of Palmarosa has deigned to -look at my paintings, and if she is not altogether dissatisfied with my -work?" -</p> -<p> -"The princess is enchanted, do not doubt it, my dear fellow," replied -the marquis, with extraordinary warmth; "and if she knew that you were -here she would come and tell you so herself. But she is too much engaged -at this moment for you to obtain speech of her. To-morrow, I doubt not, -she will give you the praise that you deserve, and you will lose nothing -by waiting. By the way," he said, turning again as he was about to leave -the grotto, "will you come and see my Chinese paintings, and some other -pictures not altogether without merit? I shall be delighted to see you -often. My country house is close at hand." -</p> -<p> -Michel bowed, as if to thank him and accept his invitation; but, -although he could not help being flattered by the marquis's gracious -manner toward him, he was depressed, crushed as it were. Evidently the -marquis was not jealous of him. He was not even disturbed. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap12"></a>XII -<br><br> -MAGNANI -</h4> - -<p> -Nothing is so mortifying as to have believed, though it were only for a -single hour, in the reality of a romantic, intoxicating adventure, and -to discover that you have simply been dreaming an absurd dream. Each new -reflection in which our young artist indulged cooled his brain and led -him back to the dismal field of probabilities. Upon what foundation had -he built so many castles in Spain? Upon a glance which he had doubtless -misinterpreted, and upon a remark which he must have misunderstood. All -the convincing arguments which offered a flat contradiction to his -extravagant conceit stood like a mountain in his path, and he felt that -he was falling back from heaven to earth. -</p> -<p> -"I am very foolish," he said to himself, "to give all my thoughts to a -problematical pair of eyes and to unintelligible words from a woman whom -I do not know, and whom consequently I do not love, when I have far more -important matters on hand. I must go and see if this marquis did not -deceive me, and if everybody really considers that my paintings show -genius in default of science. And yet," he continued, as he left the -grotto, "there is something that savors of mystery at the bottom of all -this, none the less. How does this marquis know me, when I never saw -him? How does it happen that he accosted me without hesitation, with -such familiarity, and called me by my Christian name, as if we were old -friends? To be sure, he may have been at some window, or in a church, or -on the public square on the day I walked through the city with my -father; or when I was looking at the aërial gardens of the Semiramis -who employs me, he may have been in one of those boudoirs, apparently so -tightly closed, whose windows look in that direction, and where he is -allowed, doubtless, to go and sigh hopelessly for her lovely capricious -eyes." -</p> -<p> -Michel walked through the crowd, and attracted no one's attention. His -features were not known, although his name had been on many lips, and -people talked freely of his work in his very ears. -</p> -<p> -"That is promising," said some. -</p> -<p> -"He still has much to learn," said others. -</p> -<p> -"There is much imagination and good taste; it pleases the eye and -interests the mind." -</p> -<p> -"True, but some of the arms are too long, and the legs too short; the -foreshortening shows extreme ignorance; the figures are making -impossible gestures." -</p> -<p> -"Agreed, but graceful, none the less. I tell you that this boy, for they -say he is a mere child, will go a long way." -</p> -<p> -"He is a child of our city." -</p> -<p> -"Indeed! well, he will go around it and no farther," retorted a -Neapolitan. -</p> -<p> -From first to last Michelangelo Lavoratori heard more kindly praise than -bitter criticism; but he felt many thorns while plucking many roses, and -he realized that success is a sweetmeat in which there is a plentiful -supply of gall. He was depressed at first; then, folding his arms across -his breast, and contemplating his work, without listening farther to the -opinion of others, he took account of its merits and defects with an -impartiality which triumphed over his self-love. -</p> -<p> -"They are all right," he said. "It promises, but pays nothing in -advance. I have already made up my mind to destroy these canvases when I -store them in the storerooms of the palace, and I will do better -hereafter. I have made an experiment upon myself, which I do not regret, -although I am not very well satisfied with it; but I shall know how to -profit by it, and whether this undertaking is favorable to my fortunes -or not, it shall be to my talent." -</p> -<p> -Having recovered all his lucidity of thought, and reflecting that he was -not one of those patrons who assisted the poor by purchasing a card of -admission, Michel determined to abstain from watching the fête and to -walk about alone in some quiet corner of the palace until he felt -absolutely calm and disposed to go home and to bed. His reason had -returned, but the fatigue of the preceding days had left a touch of -feverish excitement in his blood and in his nerves. He bent his steps -toward the Casino, whence he could go out upon the natural terraces of -the mountain. -</p> -<p> -The whole of that magnificent abode was illuminated and adorned with -flowers; the public were allowed free access to every part; but, after -once making the tour of the upper floors, the crowd ceased to go -thither. The bulk of the spectacle, the dancing, music, bustle, youth -and love, were below, in the great temporary ball-room. No one remained -in the upper galleries, on the graceful staircases, or in the vast -apartments, save an occasional majestic or mysterious group of solemn -personages discussing affairs of state, or great coquettes collecting -and detaining by their refined conversation certain chosen men around -their chairs. -</p> -<p> -Toward midnight all those who had not a direct interest in the affair, -or were not enjoying themselves, took their leave, and, the concourse -becoming less numerous, the fête was more enjoyable and more beautiful -to the eye. -</p> -<p> -Michel reached the princess's aërial garden by a small secret -staircase. At that elevation the breeze was very cool, and he felt -exceedingly refreshed and comfortable as he sat on the top step of that -staircase, near a fragrant flower-bed. The garden was deserted. Through -the silver gauze curtains he could see the interior of the princess's -apartments, also deserted. But Michel was not long alone; Magnani joined -him. -</p> -<p> -Magnani was one of the handsomest young men among the mechanics of the -city. He was industrious, intelligent, high-spirited, and honest. Michel -did not attempt to combat the friendly feeling he inspired, and in his -company forgot the embarrassment and distrust which he had felt from the -beginning with all the workmen with whom his father's position had -compelled him to associate. He suffered, poor boy, after years of -leisure, to be thrown with young men who were inclined to be a little -rough and noisy, who reproached him for looking down on them, and whom -he made vain efforts to look upon as his equals. -</p> -<p> -He confessed everything to Magnani, whom he saw to be the most -intelligent of them all, and in whose hearty outspokenness there was -nothing offensive or tyrannical. He confided to him all the ambitions, -all the weaknesses, all the intoxicating emotions, all the sufferings, -in a word, all the little secrets of his young heart. Magnani understood -him, excused him and talked sensibly to him. -</p> -<p> -"You are not wrong in my eyes, Michel," he said; "inequality of rank is -the law of society; everyone wishes to rise, no one wishes to descend. -If it were otherwise the people would remain in the brute stage. But the -people aspire to grow, thank God! and they do grow, whatever may be done -to prevent them. I myself strive to succeed, to possess something, to -reach a point where I shall not always have to obey, in a word, to be -free! But whatever happiness I may attain, it seems to me that I ought -not to forget the point from which I started. Unjust chance compels many -men to remain in poverty who deserve as well as I, perhaps much better, -to escape from it. That is why I shall never despise those whom I leave -behind me, and shall not cease to love them with all my heart and aid -them with all my power. -</p> -<p> -"I know that you shun your brothers in rank without despising them, -without hating them; you do not enjoy yourself with them, and yet you -would do them a favor on occasion; but beware! there is a touch of -ill-advised pride in this sort of patronizing affection, and, although -the day may come when it will be all right, remember that at the present -time it may well seem misplaced. You have more intelligence and more -knowledge of life than most of us, I agree; but is that a very real -superiority? Will not any poor devil who happens to have more wisdom, -virtue, or courage than you be entitled to consider himself your equal -at least, even if his speech is abrupt and his language vulgar? -</p> -<p> -"It will happen more than once in your career as an artist that you will -have to endure patiently the impertinence of the rich; indeed, if I am -not mistaken, an artist's life is likely to be a constant struggle to -shelter his individual merit from the contempt of the imaginary merit -attached to birth, power, and wealth. However, you are aiming for that -social level, without fear or shame; you accept the challenge in -advance, you propose to measure strength with the bitter vanity of the -great; how does it happen, pray, that that seems less offensive and less -unpleasant than the harmless familiarity of the humble? I could more -readily excuse the affront of an ignorant man than that of a coxcomb, -and I should feel more at ease amid the fisticuffs of my companions, -than when exposed to the graceful witticisms of my alleged superiors. -</p> -<p> -"Is it ennui that drives you away from us? Is it because we have few -ideas and little skill in expressing them? But perhaps we have something -else which would interest you if you understood it. The simplicity which -characterizes us has its noble side, which should arouse respect and -emotion in those who have lost it. Is it the faults or the vices that -are found among us that make you sick at heart? But are the upper -classes exempt from these same vices, which it pains me to see, and -which I am constantly on my guard against? Because they conceal them -better, or because in them debauchery of the mind colors and quickens -that of the body, does it follow that their vices are more estimable? In -vain do they, the fortunate ones of the age, cover their tracks; their -sins, their crimes become known to us, and often, almost always in fact, -they seek their confederates or their victims among us. -</p> -<p> -"Go on, Michel, work, hope, rise, but let it not be at the expense of -the spirit of justice and kindness; for in that case, although you might -grow in the opinion of some, you would descend proportionately in the -esteem of the majority." -</p> -<p> -"All that you say is true and wise," Michel replied, "but is the -conclusion well drawn? Ought I to pursue the career of art, and at the -same time associate exclusively, or at least by preference, with these -mechanics among whom fate willed that I should be born? If you reflect, -you will see that that is inconsistent, that the great works of art are -in the hands of the rich, that they alone own, purchase, and order -pictures, statues, urns, carvings, and engravings. To be employed by -them, one must needs live with them and as they live; otherwise -oblivion, obscurity and poverty are the lot of genius. Our ancestors, -the noble artists of the Renaissance and the Middle Ages, were artists -and artisans at once. Their position was well-defined, and was more or -less brilliant according to their talent. To-day all is changed. Artists -are more numerous and the rich are less powerful and magnificent. Taste -has become corrupted, the Mæcenases are no longer connoisseurs. Fewer -palaces are built; for one great collection that is formed, thirty are -sold piecemeal to pay debts, or because the heirs of the great families -prefer cash to monuments of genius. It is no longer enough, therefore, -to be a man of superior talent in order to find employment and honor in -one's profession. Chance, and, even more frequently, intrigue, cause -some to float, while others, who it may be are of far greater worth, are -submerged. -</p> -<p> -"However, I do not trust to chance, and my pride refuses to stoop to -intrigue. What shall I do, then? Shall I wait until some collector's eye -is attracted by a decorative figure, broadly conceived, on sized canvas, -and he is so impressed by it that he comes next day to the wineshop to -hunt me up and order a picture? Such good fortune may occur once in a -hundred times; but even then, on the day when it occurs to me, I shall -owe my bread to the patronage of the rich man, who is beginning to be -interested in me. Sooner or later I must bow before him and beg him to -recommend me to others. Would it not be better for me, at the earliest -possible moment, as soon as I am sure of myself, to quit the ladder and -the apron, to assume the external aspect of a man who does not beg, and -to present myself, with my head erect, among the rich? If I go out of -the wineshop arm-in-arm with the merry knights of the saw and trowel, it -is evident that I cannot enter the palace as a guest, but as a paid -workman; and at this moment, if I should venture to accost one of these -lovely women and ask her to dance, I should be spat upon and turned out -of doors within a quarter of an hour. The time must come, however, when -they will make overtures to me, and when my talent will be a title -capable of contending on equal terms with that of duke or marquis for -the triumphs of this world. But only on condition that my habits and my -manners bear the stamp and seal of aristocracy. I must be what they call -a man of good breeding; otherwise it would avail me nothing to be a man -of genius; no one would believe it. -</p> -<p> -"I shall not make my way as an artist, therefore, except by destroying -the artisan in me. I must succeed in becoming the free possessor of my -own works, and in selling them as an owner does, instead of executing -them like a day-laborer. Well! for that I must have reputation, and in -these days reputation does not go about looking for an artist in his -garret; he is obliged to acquire it himself by his own exertions, -consorting with those who award it, demanding it as a right and not -imploring it as alms. Tell me, Magnani, how I am to escape this dilemma! -And yet it pains me terribly, I assure you, to think that I must in some -sense deny the race of my fathers, and that I must submit to be accused -of idiocy and impudence by men whose brother and friend I feel that I -am. You see that I must go away from a country where my father's -popularity would make this separation more offensive to others and more -painful to myself than elsewhere. I came here to perform a duty—to -expiate my heedlessness at Rome; but when my task is done, I must return -thither, and from there travel the world over, in the disguise, perhaps -premature, of a free man. If I do not do it, farewell to my whole -future; I may as well renounce it to-day." -</p> -<p> -"Yes! yes! I understand," said Magnani; "you must set yourself free at -any price. The journeyman's work is slavery; the work of an artist is -the title of manhood. You are right, Michel; it is your right, -consequently your duty and your destiny. But how dismal and cruel the -destiny of an intelligent man is! One must cast off his family, leave -his native land, act a sort of comedy to induce strangers to accept him -as one of themselves, assume a mask in order to receive the laurel -wreath, take up arms against the poor who condemn him and the rich who -are loath to receive him! Why, it is horrible! it is enough to disgust -one with glory! In God's name, what is glory that one should purchase it -at that price?" -</p> -<p> -"Glory, as it is commonly understood, is nothing at all, I agree," -replied Michel, warmly, "if it is nothing more than the trifling noise a -man may make in the world. Shame to him who denies his blood and -sacrifices his affections to gratify his vanity! But glory, according to -my conception, is not that! It is the manifestation and development of -the genius one bears within oneself. In default of enlightened judges, -warm admirers, stern critics, and even jealous detractors—in -default of opportunity to enjoy all the advantages, to receive all the -counsels, to undergo all the persecution which follow in the wake of -renown—genius withers and dies in discouragement, apathy, doubt or -ignorance of itself. Thanks to all the triumphs, all the struggles, all -the wounds which await us in a lofty career, we acquire the power to -make the most glorious use of our capabilities, and to leave a deep, -ineffaceable, forever fruitful trace in the world of thought. Ah! he who -truly loves his art desires glory for his works, not in order that his -name may live, but that his art may not die. And what would it matter to -me that I had not the art of my patron saint Michelangelo, if I should -leave to posterity an anonymous work worthy to be compared to the -<i>Last Judgment</i>! To make oneself talked about is more often a -source of martyrdom than of intoxicating pleasure. The serious-minded -artist seeks that martyrdom and endures it patiently. He knows that it -is the harsh condition of his success; and his success, not in being -applauded and understood by all, but in producing and leaving behind him -something in which he himself has faith. But what is the matter, -Magnani? You are sad, and you are not listening to me." -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap13"></a>XIII -<br><br> -AGATHA -</h4> - -<p> -"Yes, I am listening to you, Michel, I am listening attentively," -Magnani replied, "and I am sad because I feel the force of your -reasoning. You are not the first person with whom I have talked of these -matters. I have known more than one young mechanic who aspired to drop -his trade, to become a merchant, lawyer, priest or artist; and it is -true enough that the number of these deserters increases every year. -Whoever feels that he possesses intelligence instantly becomes conscious -of ambition; and hitherto I have fought such tendencies vigorously in -others and in myself. My parents, who are proud and obstinate like the -prudent, hard-working old people that they are, taught me, as a -religious precept, to remain true to family traditions—to the customs -of my rank; and my heart approved of that strict and simple code of -morals. That is why I have resolved not to seek success outside of my -trade, though I sometimes have to crush my own impulses. That is why I -have always roughly trampled upon the self-love of my young comrades as -soon as I saw it sprouting; that is why my first words of sympathy and -regard for you were warnings and reproaches. It seems to me now that, -until I had you to deal with, I was in the right, because the others -were really vain, and their vanity tended to make them selfish and -ungrateful. So that I felt fully justified in rebuking them, laughing at -them and preaching to them by turns. But with you I feel that I am weak, -because you are stronger than I in theory. You depict art in such grand -and beautiful colors, you feel so strongly the noble character of your -mission, that I dare not oppose you any longer. It seems to me that you -have a right to break down every obstacle in order to succeed, even your -heart, as I broke mine in order to remain obscure. And yet my conscience -is not satisfied with this solution. It does not seem to me to be a -solution. Come, Michel, you are more learned than I; tell me which of us -is wrong before God!" -</p> -<p> -"My friend, I believe that we are both right," replied Michel. "I -believe that at this moment we represent between us what is taking -place, contradictorily but simultaneously, in the minds of the common -people in all civilized nations. You plead for sentiment. Your paternal -feeling is holy and sacred. It is opposed to my idea; but my idea is -grand and true; it is as sacred in its passion for combat, as your -sentiment in its theory of renunciation and silence. You are following -your duty, I am enforcing my right. Bear with me, Magnani, for I respect -you, and each of our ideals is incomplete until it is completed by the -other." -</p> -<p> -"Yes, you speak of abstract ideas," rejoined Magnani, thoughtfully, "and -I think that I understand you; but in the concrete the question is not -solved. The society of the present day is struggling between two reefs, -resignation and resistance. Through love for my class I choose to suffer -and protest with it. From the same motive, perhaps, you choose to fight -and triumph in its name. These two methods of action seem to exclude and -condemn each other. Before the divine tribunal which will prevail, -sentiment or idea? You say, both. But on earth, where men are not -governed by divine laws, how can we possibly make those two extremes -harmonize? I seek in vain a means." -</p> -<p> -"But why seek it?" said Michel; "it does not exist on earth at this -moment. The people may free themselves and make themselves famous as a -whole by glorious battles, by good morals, by civic virtues, but each -individual of the people has his individual destiny; the destiny of the -man who feels that he was born to touch hearts is to live on fraternal -terms with the simple; of him who feels that his calling is to enlighten -men's minds, to seek light, though it be in solitude, though it be among -the enemies of his race. The great masters of art worked, from a -material standpoint, for wealth, but, from a moral standpoint, for all -mankind; for the poorest of the poor can obtain from their works a -revelation and appreciation of the beautiful. Let every man follow his -inspiration therefore, and bow to the mysterious designs of Providence -with respect to him! My father loves to sing rollicking ballads in -taverns; he electrifies his companions with them; the stories that he -tells sitting on a bench at a street corner, his cheery humor, and his -ardor in singing or in the common toil inspire all those who see and -hear him. Heaven has endowed him with the power of acting directly, by -the simplest means, on the vital fibres of his brethren, zeal in labor, -expansiveness in the hours of rest. For my part, I have a liking for -solitary temples, sumptuous, dark old palaces, venerable masterpieces, -studious reverie, the refined enjoyments of art. The society of -patricians has no terrors for me. I consider them too degenerate to be -feared; their names have for me a poesy which makes of them mere -figures, ghosts, if you choose, and I love to walk smiling among those -ghosts who do not frighten me. I love the dead; I live with the past; -and from the past I acquire my idea of the future; but I confess that I -have but little notion of the present, that the precise moment of my -existence has no existence for me, because I am always delving in the -past, and pushing all realities forward. In that way I transform them -and idealize them. You see that I should not reach the same ends as my -father and you, even if I used the same means. It is not in me to do -it." -</p> -<p> -"Michel," said Magnani, striking his forehead, "you have won! I must -absolve you and spare you my remonstrances henceforth! But I am -suffering, I am suffering terribly! Your words cause me very great -pain!" -</p> -<p> -"How so, my dear Magnani?" -</p> -<p> -"That is my secret, and yet I tell it to you without betraying its -sanctity. Can you possibly suppose that I have not some legitimate -ambition, some secret, deep-rooted desire to set myself free from the -servitude in which I live? Don't you know that all men have at the -bottom of their hearts the desire to be happy? And do you suppose that -the consciousness of a joyless duty causes me to wallow in delight? -</p> -<p> -"Listen and judge of my martyrdom. I have loved madly for five years a -woman whose rank in society places her as far above me as heaven is -above the earth. Having always considered it impossible that she should -ever bestow so much as a compassionate glance upon me, I cultivated a -sort of gloomy satisfaction in my suffering, my poverty, my forced -nullity among my fellowmen. With a bitter feeling at my heart, I -determined not to imitate those who are determined to succeed and who -expose themselves to the risk of being scoffed at from above and from -below. If I were one of them, I thought, perhaps the day would come when -I might gallantly raise to my lips the hand of her whom I adore. But as -soon as I opened my mouth to reveal the mystery of my passion, I should -undoubtedly be spurned, laughed at, trampled under foot; I prefer to -remain lost in the dust of my trade, and never to carry my insane -presumption so far as her feet. I prefer that she should continue to -believe it impossible that I could ever dream of aspiring to her. At all -events, while I wear the livery of the mechanic, she will respect the -suffering of which she knows nothing; she will not intensify it by -discovering it, by blushing because she inspired it, by deeming it -necessary to protect herself from it. Now, she passes me as she passes -anything which is of no consequence to her, but which she does not -consider that she has the right to spurn and crush. She bows to me, -smiles at me, and speaks to me as to a being of a different nature from -her own: that instinct is not manifest, but it is in her; I feel it and -I understand it. At all events, she does not think of humiliating me, -she would not do it; and the less reason I have for priding myself upon -the possibility of pleasing her, the less do I fear that she will insult -me by her pity. All this would change if I were a painter or a poet, if -I could present her with her portrait done by my trembling hand, or with -a sonnet indited by me in her honor; she would smile differently, she -would speak differently. There would be reserve, mockery, or compassion -in her kindness, according as I should have succeeded or failed in my -artistic efforts. Oh! how far that would remove me from her, how much -lower it would leave me than I now am! I prefer to be the mechanic who -renders her a service by selling her the use of his arms, rather than -the beginner in art to be patronized as a weakling or pitied as a -madman!" -</p> -<p> -"I approve what you have done," said Michel, who had become pensive in -his turn. "I like your pride, and I think that it would be a good -example to follow even in my position and with the projects which I -entertain, if I were tempted to seek love beyond certain obstacles, -which, though absurd, are enormous!" -</p> -<p> -"Oh! it is very different with you, Michel. The obstacles which would -exist between you and a great lady to-day will quickly be surmounted, -and, as you yourself have said, the day will come when those women will -make advances to you. Those words, which escaped from your heart, seemed -to me presumptuous and absurd at first. Now that I understand you they -seem perfectly natural and legitimate to me. Yes, you will win the favor -of women of the most exalted rank, because you are in the bloom of -youth, because your beauty is of a refined and somewhat effeminate type, -which gives you a resemblance to the men who are born to a life of -idleness; because you are accustomed to fashionable society, because you -have the instinct of good manners and seem perfectly at home in the -clothes you wear; for all these things, added to genius and success, are -essential to induce proud women to overlook the artist's plebeian -origin. Yes, you will be able to appear a man in their eyes, while I -should disguise myself to no purpose; I should never be anything but a -mechanic, and my rough shell would show in spite of me. It is too late -for me to begin: I am twenty-six years old! But I thrill with strange -emotion when I think that, five years ago, when I was still as pliable -as wax, if someone had encouraged and ennobled in my eyes the instincts -that were springing to life within me, if someone had spoken to me as -you have just done, I might have followed a course not unlike yours, and -have started upon a soul-stirring career! My mind was open to the -sentiment of the beautiful; I could sing like the nightingale, without -understanding my own notes, but with the power of untaught inspiration. -I could read, understand, and remember many books; I understood nature, -too; I could read in the sky and in the broad expanse of the sea, in the -verdure of the forests and the blue-capped mountains. It seems to me -that I might have been a musician, or a poet, or a landscape painter. -And love was already speaking to my heart; already she had appeared to -me from whom I cannot detach my thoughts. What a stimulus for me if I -had surrendered to my violent temptations!—But I forced them all back -into my heart, fearing to be false to my kindred and friends, fearing to -degrade myself in their eyes and my own by seeking to rise. I have -inured myself to work; my hands have become callous, and my mind as -well. My chest has increased in size, it is true, and my heart has kept -pace with it, like a polypus which feeds upon me and absorbs all my -vitality; but my brow has retreated, I am sure of it; my imagination has -collapsed; poesy is dead within me; I have nothing left except the -reasoning power, loyalty, resolution, and self-sacrifice—that is to -say, suffering! Ah! Michel, spread your wings and leave this land of -sorrows! fly, like a bird, to the domes of palaces and temples, and from -that height look down upon this wretched people, grovelling and groaning -at your feet. Pity me at least, love me if you can, and never do -anything which can lower you in your own eyes." -</p> -<p> -Magnani was deeply moved; but suddenly his emotion changed its nature; -he started, hastily turned his head and put his hand on the branches of -a dense clump of rose myrtle, which masked a dark recess in the wall -behind him. That curtain of verdure, which he put aside with a -convulsive movement, concealed the entrance to a secret passage, which, -as it presumably led only to the servants' quarters, was not open to the -princess's guests. Michel, surprised at Magnani's movement, glanced into -the passage, which was dimly lighted by a dying lamp, the farther end -being in total darkness. It seemed to him that he saw a white figure -gliding through the shadows, but it was so vague that it was hardly -perceptible, and it might have been an illusion caused by the sudden -introduction of a brighter light when the bushes were put aside. He was -about to enter; but Magnani detained him, saying: -</p> -<p> -"We have no right to watch what takes place in the reserved portions of -this sanctuary. My first curious movement was made without reflection; I -thought that I heard a light step close beside me, and—I was -dreaming, doubtless!—I fancied that I saw this bush move. But it -was an illusion due to the fear that seized upon me at the thought that -I was on the point of letting my secret pass my lips. I must leave you, -Michel; these outpourings of the heart are dangerous, they upset me; I -feel that I must withdraw into myself and give my reason time to allay -the tempests raised in my breast by your words and your example." -</p> -<p> -Magnani hurried away, and Michel returned to the ball. The confession of -his young companion, that he was beset by an insane love for a great -lady, had reawakened in him an emotion which he thought that he had -conquered. He hovered about the dancers, trying to divert his thoughts, -for he felt that his folly was as dangerous for the moment as Magnani's. -Many years must pass before he could consider that his genius had placed -him on the level of the most exalted social ranks; so that he derived an -agonizing sort of amusement from watching the youngest of the dancers -and dreamily seeking among them one whom he might some day gaze upon -with eyes inflamed with love and presumption. Probably he did not -discover her, for he transferred his fancy from one to another, and, as -one risks nothing by being hard to please in that variety of castles in -Spain, he continued to seek, and to discuss with himself the comparative -merits of those youthful beauties. -</p> -<p> -But in the midst of these aberrations of his brain he suddenly saw the -Princess of Palmarosa pass. He had been careful hitherto to remain at -some distance from the dancing groups, and to keep well out of sight -behind the benches of the amphitheatre; now he involuntarily approached; -and, although the crowd was not dense enough to justify or conceal his -presence, he walked on until he was almost in the front row, among -persons each nobler and richer than his neighbor. This time his -instinctive pride did not warn him of the perils of his situation. An -invincible magnet drew him on and detained him: the princess was -dancing. -</p> -<p> -Doubtless it was for form's sake, to satisfy the proprieties, or from -good nature, for she simply walked, and did not seem to take the -slightest pleasure in it. But she walked better than the others danced, -and, without a thought of striving to be graceful, she displayed every -variety of grace. That woman really possessed an extraordinary charm -which penetrated like a subtle perfume, and finally dominated or effaced -everything about her. One would have said that she was a queen in the -midst of her court, in some kingdom where moral and physical perfection -reigned. -</p> -<p> -It was the chastity of the celestial virgins with their omnipotent -serenity—a pallor in nowise extreme or sickly—which denoted the -absence of intense emotions. People said that the secret of that -mysterious life was either systematic abstinence from excitement or -extraordinary indifference. And yet her appearance was not that of a -lifeless statue. Kindness of heart lent animation to her somewhat -absent-minded glance and gave an indescribable sweetness to her faint -smile. -</p> -<p> -In the glare of those countless lights she appeared to Michel an -entirely different woman from her he had seen in the grotto an hour -earlier, when the peculiar light or his own imagination had made her -appear a little terrifying to him. Now her indifference was calm rather -than depressed, habitual rather than forced. She had recovered just -enough animation to vanquish the heart and leave the passions -undisturbed. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap14"></a>XIV -<br><br> -BARBAGALLO -</h4> - -<p> -If Michel could have removed his eyes from the object of his -contemplation, he would have seen his father playing a flageolet in the -orchestra a few steps away. Pier-Angelo had a passion for art in any -form in which he could assimilate it. He loved and understood music, and -played several instruments by instinct in almost perfect tone and time. -Having attended to several details of the fête which had been placed -under his supervision, and having nothing more to do, he had been unable -to resist the desire to mingle with the musicians, who knew him well, -and who took pleasure in his gayety, his attractive, kindly face, and -the enthusiasm with which he produced from time to time a shrill -<i>ritornello</i> on his instrument. When the minstrel whose place he had -taken returned from the buffet, Pier-Angelo seized upon the vacant -cymbals, and, toward the end of the quadrille, was sawing with great -delight the heavy strings of the bass-viol. -</p> -<p> -He was enchanted above all things to play for the princess, who, having -espied his bald head on the platform among the orchestra, bestowed upon -him from a distance a smile and an imperceptible friendly nod which the -old man stored away in his heart. Michelangelo would have considered -perhaps that his father gave his time too lavishly to the service of his -dear patroness, and did not maintain strictly enough his dignity as an -artisan. But at that moment Michel, who believed that he had forgotten -or been cured of the effect of Princess Agatha's glance, had fallen so -completely under its influence that he cared for nothing but to -encounter it again. -</p> -<p> -His only fine clothes, which a lingering remnant of ineradicable -aristocratic feeling had led him to bring through the gorges of Ætna in -a travelling-bag slung over his shoulder, were of fashionable cut and in -good taste. His face, too, was so handsome and so noble that there -certainly was nothing to which exception could be taken in his person or -in his dress. And yet his presence in the circle immediately surrounding -the princess had, for some moments past, offended the eyes of Master -Barbagallo, the majordomo of the palace. -</p> -<p> -That individual, ordinarily the mildest and most humane of men, had -nevertheless his antipathies and his spasms of comical indignation. He -had recognized Michel's talent; but the young man's impatient air when -he ventured to address some trivial remark to him, and the small respect -he had seemed to entertain for his authority, had caused the majordomo -to look upon the painter with distrust and something like aversion. -According to his ideas—and he had made a special study of titles and -heraldry—nobody was noble but the <i>nobles</i>, and he looked upon -all other classes of society with silent but unconquerable disdain. He was -shocked and offended, therefore, to see the haughty palace of his -masters thrown open to what he called a mob—tradesmen, lawyers, -Jewesses, suspicious travellers, students, petty officers; in a word, to -anyone who chose to pay a gold-piece for the privilege of dancing in the -princess's quadrille. This subscription fête was a new invention, -imported from abroad, and it overturned all his notions of decorum. -</p> -<p> -The retirement in which the princess had always lived had assisted this -worthy majordomo to retain all his illusions and all his prejudices -touching the excellence of castes. That is why he became more and more -distressed, restless and morose as the night advanced. He had seen the -princess promise a contra-dance to a young lawyer who had had the -audacity to invite her; and when he saw Michelangelo Lavoratori gazing -at her at such close quarters with enraptured eyes, he wondered if that -dauber of canvas would not also enter the lists to dance with her. -</p> -<p> -"The world has turned upside down in twenty years, I see," he said to -himself; "if such a ball as this had been given here in Prince Dionigi's -time, things would have been managed differently. Each class would have -kept apart from the rest; they would have formed different groups, and -no group would have mingled with its superiors or inferiors. But here -all ranks are jumbled together; it's a bazar—an infernal -revel!—But, by the way," it occurred to him, "what is that little -painter doing here? He didn't pay any money; he has not even the right -which anyone can buy to-day, alas! at the door of the noble Palmarosa -palace. He is only admitted here as a workman. If he chooses to play the -tambourine beside his old father, or look after the lamps, let him stand -back from where he is now. I will take down his conceit a peg, and it -won't do him any good to play at being a great painter. I'll send him -back to his sizing. It's a little lesson that I owe him, as his old -madman of a father spoils him and doesn't know how to manage him." -</p> -<p> -Armed with this noble resolution, Messire Barbagallo, who dared not -approach the princess's circle himself, tried to attract Michel's -attention from a distance by making innumerable signs, of which the -young man remained utterly unconscious. Thereupon the majordomo, seeing -that the contra-dance was nearly at an end, and that the princess could -not fail to see young Lavoratori, who had planted himself so audaciously -in her path, determined to accomplish his purpose by a coup d'état. He -glided among the spectators like a hunting-dog in a field of grain, and, -gently passing his arm through the young man's, he tried to lead him -aside without any noise or disturbance. -</p> -<p> -At that moment Michel had met the glance from the princess which he had -been seeking and awaiting so long. -</p> -<p> -That glance had thrilled him like an electric shock, veiled though it -was by instinctive prudence; and when he felt some one grasp his arm, -without deigning to turn his head to ascertain with whom he had to do, -he repelled with an energetic dig of the elbow the indiscreet hand that -had touched him. -</p> -<p> -"What are you doing here, Master Michel?" said the indignant majordomo -in his ear. -</p> -<p> -"What business is it of yours?" he replied, turning his back and -shrugging his shoulders. -</p> -<p> -"You ought not to be here," replied Barbagallo, on the point of losing -patience, but restraining himself sufficiently to speak in a low tone. -</p> -<p> -"It is all right for you to be here, I suppose!" replied Michel, glaring -at him with eyes inflamed with wrath, hoping to get rid of him by -intimidation. -</p> -<p> -But Barbagallo had a certain courage of his own; he would have submitted -to be spat upon rather than fail in the smallest degree in what he -conceived to be his duty. -</p> -<p> -"I am doing my duty," he said; "go and do yours. I am sorry to disturb -you; but everyone must keep in his place. Oh! don't be insolent! Where -is your card of admission? You haven't one, I know. If you are allowed -to see the fête, it is only on condition that you look after the buffet -or the lights, like your father; let us see, what were you told to do? -Go and find the butler, and he will tell you what to do; and if he -doesn't need you, go away, instead of staring ladies out of -countenance." -</p> -<p> -Master Barbagallo continued to speak so low that nobody could hear him -save Michel; but his wrathful eyes and his convulsive gestures were -eloquent enough, and people were already beginning to look at them. -Michel had fully determined to retire, for he knew that he had no way of -resisting the order. The idea of striking an old man was most -distasteful to him, and yet never before had the blood of the common -people itched more fiercely in the hollow of his hand. He would have -yielded smilingly to an impertinence couched in polite phraseology; but, -not knowing what to do to rescue his dignity from that absurd attack, he -felt as if he should die of rage and shame. -</p> -<p> -Barbagallo was already threatening, under his breath, to call for help -to overcome his resistance. The persons who were nearest them glanced -with an expression of satirical surprise at this strange young man at -odds with the majordomo of the palace. The ladies gathered up their -skirts and drew back into the crowd, to be farther away from him. They -thought that he might be a pickpocket who had found his way into the -ball-room, or some insolent intriguer who was about to cause a scandal. -</p> -<p> -But just as poor Michel was on the point of swooning with wrath and -shame, for the blood was already roaring in his ears, and his legs were -giving way, a faint cry, not two yards away, drove all the blood back to -his heart. It seemed to him that he had heard that cry before, a cry of -grief, surprise and affection, all in one, in the midst of his sleep on -the evening of his arrival at the palace. Obeying an instinctive impulse -of confidence and hope, which he could not explain to himself, he turned -in the direction of that friendly voice and darted forward at random, as -if to seek refuge on the breast from which it issued. Suddenly he found -himself close beside the princess, with his hand in hers, which pressed -it tremblingly but warmly. That movement and that expression of their -mutual emotion were as rapid as the lightning flash. The amazed -spectators opened a passage for the princess, who walked across the -hall, leaning upon Michel, leaving her partner in the middle of his -final bow, the majordomo in utter dismay, wishing that he could sink -through the floor, and the spectators laughing at the good man's -discomfiture, and concluding that Michel was some young foreigner of -distinction recently arrived at Catania, to whom the princess made haste -to atone, with graceful tact and without useless words, for her -majordomo's blunder. -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> -<a id="figure02"></a> -<br> -<img src="images/figure02.jpg" width="300" alt="300"> -<div class="caption"> -<p><i>THE BALL AT THE PALMAROSA -PALACE.</i></p> -<p class="smaller"> -<i>When Signora Agatha reached the foot of the -great staircase, where there were few people, she -had recovered her tranquillity; but Michel was -trembling more than ever.</i></p> -</div></div> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -When Signora Agatha reached the foot of the great staircase, where there -were few people, she had recovered her tranquillity; but Michel was -trembling more than ever. -</p> -<p> -"Doubtless she is going to show me the door herself," he thought, -"without allowing anyone to divine her purpose. She is too great and too -kind not to rescue me from the insults of her servants and the contempt -of her guests; but the advice she is going to give me will be none the -less deadly. This probably means the ruin of all my future prospects, -and the wreck of the life I have dreamed of will lie here on the -threshold of her palace." -</p> -<p> -"Michelangelo Lavoratori," said the princess, putting her bouquet to her -face to deaden the sound of her voice, which might have reached some ear -on the alert with curiosity, "I have discovered to-day that you are a -genuine artist, and that a noble career lies open before you. A few more -years of earnest work, and you may become a master. Then the world will -receive you, as you deserve to be received to-day, for the man who has -nothing more than well-founded hopes of his personal glory is at least -the equal of those who have only the memory of the glory of their -ancestors. But tell me if you are in haste to make your appearance in -this society which you have seen to-night, and whose spirit you can -already divine? If you wish it, I have but to say a word, to raise my -hand. All the connoisseurs here noticed your figures, and asked me your -name, your age, and your antecedents. I have only to present you to my -friends, to declare that you are an artist, and from this day you will -be so considered, and practically emancipated from your present social -position. Your father's humble profession, far from injuring you, will -be an added source of interest; for the world is always surprised to see -a poor man born with genius, as if artistic genius had not always sprung -from the common people, and as if our caste were still fruitful in -superior men. Answer me, Michel; do you wish to sup to-night at my -table, by my side, or do you prefer to sup in the buttery, beside your -father?" -</p> -<p> -This last question was put so concisely that Michel thought that he -could read his sentence in it. "This is either a delicately administered -but most severe lesson that I am receiving," he thought, "or else it is -a test. I will come forth pure!"—And at once recovering his wits, -which had been violently agitated a moment before, he replied proudly: -</p> -<p> -"Signora, most fortunate are they who sit at your side and whom you -treat as friends! But the first time that I sup with persons in -aristocratic society, it will be at my own table, with my father sitting -opposite me. That is equivalent to saying that it will never happen, or -that, in any event, many years still separate me from glory and wealth. -Meanwhile, I will sup with my father in the buttery of your palace, to -prove to you that I am not proud and that I accept your invitation." -</p> -<p> -"Your reply gratifies me," said the princess; "continue to be a man of -spirit, Michel, and destiny will smile upon you; remember that I predict -it!" -</p> -<p> -As she spoke, she looked him in the face, for she had dropped his arm -and was about to leave him. Michel was dazzled by the flames that gushed -from her eyes, usually so soft and dreamy, but animated for him -alone—that was certain now—with an irresistible affection. -And yet he was not disturbed by it as before. Either it was a different -expression, or he had misunderstood it at first. What he had taken for -passion was affection, rather, and the desire which had swept over him -like a flood changed to a sort of enthusiastic adoration, as chaste as -she who inspired it. -</p> -<p> -"But listen," added the princess, motioning to the Marquis della Serra, -who passed at that moment, to give her his arm, and thus admitting him -to a share in the conversation: "although there is nothing humiliating -to a sagacious mind in eating in the buttery, and although there is -nothing intensely exhilarating in supping in the salon, I desire that -you should do neither. I have reasons for that which are entirely -personal to you, and which your father must have explained to you. You -have already attracted attention to-day by your work. Avoid showing -yourself freely for a few days more, but without concealing yourself -with an affectation of mystery, which course would have its dangers. I -could have wished that you had not come to this fête. You should have -understood why I did not order a card of admission to be given to you; -and your father tried to remove any desire that you might have to be -present by telling you that, if you remained, you would be charged with -some duty which would not suit you. Why did you come? Tell me frankly: -are you very fond of spectacles like this? You must have seen as -beautiful ones at Rome?" -</p> -<p> -"No, signora, I have never seen any that were beautiful at all, for you -were not present." -</p> -<p> -"He wishes to make me believe," said the princess, with a smile of the -utmost amiability, addressing the marquis, "that he came to the ball on -my account. Do you believe it, marquis?" -</p> -<p> -"I am sure of it," replied the marquis, pressing Michel's hand -affectionately. "Let us see, Master Michelangelo, when are you coming to -see my pictures and dine with me?" -</p> -<p> -"He also declares," said the princess, hastily, "that he will never dine -with people of our sort without his father." -</p> -<p> -"Why this exaggerated timidity, pray?" said the marquis, fixing his eyes -upon Michel's with an expression of penetrating intelligence, in which a -touch of severity was mingled with kindliness; "can it be that Michel is -afraid that you or I would make him blush because he is not yet as -respectable as his father? You are young, my boy, and no one can expect -to find in you the virtues for which the noble-hearted Pier-Angelo is -admired and loved; but your intelligence and your excellent sentiments -are enough to justify you in going anywhere with confidence, without -being compelled to efface yourself in your father's shadow. However, -have no fear; your father has already promised to come to dine with me -the day after to-morrow. Will it be convenient for you to accompany him -on that day?" -</p> -<p> -Michel having accepted, struggling the while to conceal his confusion -and surprise beneath an affected ease of manner, the marquis added: -</p> -<p> -"Now allow me to tell you that we shall dine together on the sly: your -father was accused of conspiracy long ago; I am an object of suspicion -to the government; we still have enemies who may accuse us again of -conspiring." -</p> -<p> -"Well, good-night, Michelangelo, we shall meet again soon," said the -princess, observing Michel's bewilderment; "be charitable enough to -believe that we know how to appreciate real merit, and that we did not -wait for yours to be revealed before discovering your father's. Your -father has been our friend for many years, and if he does not eat at my -table every day, it is because I fear to expose him to persecution by -his enemies by making him conspicuous." -</p> -<p> -Michel was perturbed and out of countenance, although he would not for -anything in the world have given the impression that he was dazzled by -the sudden favors of fortune; but at heart he felt humiliated rather -than overjoyed by the affectionate lesson he had received. "For it was a -lesson," he said to himself, when the princess and the marquis, being -accosted by other guests, had walked away, after bidding him good-night -with a friendly nod; "these wise and philosophical grandees gave me to -understand clearly enough that their affability is a mark of homage -bestowed upon my father rather than myself. I am invited on his account, -not he on mine; so that it is not my merit which procures me these marks -of distinction, but my father's virtuous qualities. O God! forgive me -for the proud thoughts that led me to desire to enter upon my career -apart from him! I was mad, I was wicked; I have received a most useful -lesson from these great nobles, upon whom I sought to impose respect for -my origin, and who have, or pretend to have, a more heartfelt respect -for it than I have myself." -</p> -<p> -But the young artist's wounded pride soon recovered from this blow. "I -have it!" he cried, after musing a few moments. "These people are deep -in politics. They are still conspiring. Probably they did not even take -the trouble to look at my paintings, or else they know nothing about -art. They pet and flatter my father, who is one of their tools, and they -are trying to gain possession of me, too. Ah well! if they wish to -arouse Sicilian patriotism in my bosom, let them go about it in a -different way and not attempt to exploit my youth without advantage to -my reputation! I see their object; but they shall learn to know me. I am -willing to be the victim of a noble cause, but not the dupe of other -people's ambition." -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap15"></a>XV -<br><br> -ROMANTIC LOVE -</h4> - -<p> -"But," said Michel to himself, "are the patricians all alike in this -island? Does the age of gold still flourish in Catania, and do the -servants alone retain the pride of prejudice?" -</p> -<p> -The majordomo had just passed and saluted him with a depressed and -crestfallen air. Doubtless he had been reprimanded, or expected to be. -</p> -<p> -Michel was passing through the dressing-room, resolved to go home, when -he saw Pier-Angelo holding the wadded great-coat of an old noble in a -light wig, who was feeling about for the arm-holes, shaking as with -palsy. Michel blushed at that sight, and quickened his pace. In his -opinion, his father was much too good-natured, and the man who allowed -himself to be waited upon thus gave an explicit contradiction to the -conjectures in which he had just been indulging concerning the -noble-hearted generosity of the great. -</p> -<p> -But he did not escape the humiliation he shunned. "Ah!" cried -Pier-Angelo, "there he is, monsignor! Look, you were asking me if he was -a handsome boy; look at him!" -</p> -<p> -"Ah! upon my word, the rascal is well turned, and no mistake!" said the -old noble, standing in front of Michel, and eying him from head to foot, -as he wrapped his coat about him. "I am much pleased with your -decorative work, my boy; I noticed it particularly. I was just telling -your father, whom I have known a long while, that you will deserve to -succeed him some day in his trade; and if you don't go about town too -much, you'll never land in the gutter. At all events, if you ever do get -there, it will be your own fault. Call my carriage for me. Be quick; -there is quite a cool wind to-night, and it's a bad thing when one has -just been in such a suffocating crowd." -</p> -<p> -"A thousand pardons, your excellency," rejoined Michel, frantic with -rage. "I am afraid of the wind myself." -</p> -<p> -"What does he say?" the old man asked Pier-Angelo. -</p> -<p> -"He says that your excellency's carriage is at the door," replied Pier, -struggling hard to keep from roaring with laughter. -</p> -<p> -"Very good; I will hire him by the day, with you, when I have work for -you." -</p> -<p> -"Oh! father!" cried Michel, as soon as the old nobleman had gone, "how -can you laugh? That impertinent man treats you like a footman, and you -accept such treatment with a smile!" -</p> -<p> -"It makes you angry," said Pier, "but why? I am laughing at your anger -and not at the goodman's lack of ceremony. Didn't I promise to help the -people of the house in every way? I happen to be here; he asks me for -his great-coat; he is old, infirm, foolish—three reasons why I should -take pity on him. And why should I despise him, pray?" -</p> -<p> -"Because he despises you!" -</p> -<p> -"According to your ideas, but not according to his conception of the -things of this world. He is an old devotee, formerly a great rake. In -the old days he seduced the daughters of the common people; to-day he -bestows alms on the poor mothers. God will forgive him for his early -sins, beyond any doubt. Why should I be more straitlaced than the good -Lord! I tell you that the differences which social customs create among -men are neither so important nor so real as you think, my child. They -are all disappearing little by little, and if those who are inordinately -sensitive would be a little less stiff, all those barriers would soon be -nothing but empty words. For my part I laugh at those who consider -themselves so much better than I am, and I never lose my temper. It is -not in any man's power to humiliate me, so long as I am at peace with my -conscience." -</p> -<p> -"Do you know, father, that you are invited to dine with the Marquis -della Serra on the day after to-morrow?" -</p> -<p> -"Yes, that is understood," replied Pier-Angelo, coolly. "I accepted this -invitation because he is not tiresome like most of the great nobles. Ah! -what a price some of them would have to pay me to induce me to pass a -couple of hours with them! But the marquis is a man of intellect. Do you -mean to go there with me? Don't accept unless you choose, Michel; do you -understand? You must not stand on ceremony with any one if you wish to -retain your openness of heart." -</p> -<p> -There was evidently a wide difference between Pier-Angelo's idea of the -honor conferred upon him by such an invitation and the idea that Michel -had conjured up of his triumphal entrance into society. Intoxicated at -first by what had seemed to him to be love on the part of the princess; -then bewildered by the amiability of the marquis, which tended to -diminish the force of the portent, but did not explain it; and, lastly, -irritated by the insolence of the man in the great-coat, he did not know -which way to turn. His theories concerning the victories of talent fell -to the ground before the heedless simplicity of his father, who accepted -everything—homage and disdain—with placid gratitude or -satirical amusement. -</p> -<p> -At the doors of the palace Michel met Magnani, who was also going away. -But, after walking a few steps, the two young men, revived by the -morning air, determined, instead of going to bed, to skirt the hill and -watch the rising of the sun, which was just beginning to whiten the -sides of Ætna. They paused on a small hill, about the half height of -Ætna itself, and seated themselves on a picturesque spot, having at -their right the Villa Palmarosa, still gleaming with light and echoing -with the strains of the orchestra; on their left the towering cone of -the volcano, with the vast slopes forming an amphitheatre of verdure, -rocks and snow to the summit. It was a strange and superb spectacle. -Everything was ill-defined in that boundless expanse, and the -<i>piedimonta</i> could hardly be distinguished from the upper belt, -called <i>nemorosa</i> or <i>silvosa</i>. But while the dawn, reflected -in the sea, suffused the lower portion of the picture with a pale, vague -light, the bold, jagged edges and immaculate snow of the peak were -sharply outlined against the transparent atmosphere of the night, which -was still a deep blue and studded with stars about the giant's head. -</p> -<p> -The sublime tranquillity, the imposing serenity of the towering peaks, -presented a marked contrast to the commotion all about the palace. The -music, the shouts of the servants, the rumbling of the carriages, -seemed, in the presence of placid, silent Ætna, a satirical epitome of -human life as compared with the mysterious abyss of eternity. As the -light grew stronger the peaks became less distinct, and the gorgeous -streamer of reddish smoke that had cut the deep blue sky became blue -itself, and wound upward like an azure serpent against an opal -background. -</p> -<p> -Then the picture changed, and the contrast was reversed. The commotion -and noise rapidly subsided about the palace, and the horrors of the -volcano became visible; the formidable inequalities of its surface, its -yawning chasms, and all the marks of desolation it had left upon the -soil from its crater to its base, even beyond the point from which -Michel and Magnani were gazing at it, even to the very seashore, where -Catania lies, imprisoned by countless blocks of lava as black as ebony. -That awe-inspiring marvel of nature seemed to be defied and insulted by -the joyous airs which the orchestra was playing, softly now, and by the -fast-dying illuminations which crowned the main façade of the palace. -Now and again the music and the candles seemed to make an effort to -revive. Evidently some indefatigable dancers compelled the musicians to -shake off their torpor. Perhaps the burnt-out candles set fire to their -collars of pink paper. One would have said, watching that brilliant and -echoing structure, that the heedless gayety of youth was struggling -against the prostration of sleep or the languor of sensual desire, while -the undying scourge of that sublime country sent its blazing smoke into -the air, a menace of destruction which could not always be defied with -impunity. -</p> -<p> -Michelangelo Lavoratori was absorbed by the spectacle of the volcano, -Magnani's eyes were fixed more frequently on the villa. Suddenly he -uttered an exclamation, and his young friend, following the direction of -his glance, saw a white figure which seemed to be floating in space. It -was a woman walking slowly on the high terrace of the palace. -</p> -<p> -"She, too," cried Magnani, involuntarily, "is watching the sun rise over -the mountain. She, too, is musing, and, it may be, sighing!" -</p> -<p> -"Who?" queried Michel, whose mind had hardened itself somewhat to eject -its own chimera. "Are your eyes sharp enough to see from here whether it -is Princess Agatha or her maid who is taking the air on the terrace?" -</p> -<p> -Magnani hid his face in his hands and made no answer. -</p> -<p> -"Come, my friend," said Michel, obeying a sudden inspiration, "be frank -with me. The great lady with whom you are in love is the Princess -Agatha?" -</p> -<p> -"Well, why should I not admit it?" rejoined the young mechanic, in a -profoundly sorrowful tone; "it may be that I shall soon repent of having -confided to a child whom I hardly know a secret which I have never -allowed those who should be my best friends to suspect. There must be -some fateful reason for this longing to unbosom myself which has -suddenly drawn me toward you. Perhaps it is the late hour, the fatigue, -the excitement caused by the music and lights and perfumes; I do not -know. Perhaps, rather, it is because I feel that you are the only person -here who is capable of understanding me, and that you are mad enough -yourself not to be too severe upon my madness. Well, yes, I love her! I -fear her, I hate her, and I adore her all at once—that woman who is -unlike all other women, whom no one knows, and whom I do not know -myself." -</p> -<p> -"I certainly shall not laugh at you, Magnani; I pity you, I understand -you and I love you, because I think that I can detect a certain -similarity between you and me. I, too, am excited by the perfumes, the -intense brilliancy of that ball, and the noisy dance-music, in which my -imagination detects such an undertone of gloom and melancholy through -its false liveliness. I, too, feel over-excited and a little mad at this -moment. I fancy that there is some deep mystery in our sympathetic -feeling for each other." -</p> -<p> -"Because we both love her!" cried Magnani, beside himself. "Why, Michel, -I guessed it from the first glance you bestowed upon her; you, too, love -her! But you are loved by her, or will be, and she will never love me!" -</p> -<p> -"Loved, I shall be loved, or am already! What are you saying, Magnani? -you are raving!" -</p> -<p> -"Listen to me; I must tell you how this disease took possession of me, -and perhaps you will understand what is taking place in yourself. Five -years ago my mother was ill. The doctor who attended her, for charity's -sake, had almost given her up; her case seemed hopeless. I was sitting -with my face in my hands, weeping bitterly, at the gate of our little -garden, which opens on a street which is almost always deserted, and -which ends in the fields on the outskirts of the town. A woman wrapped -in a cloak passed the gate and stopped: 'Young man,' she said, 'why do -you grieve so? what can I do to lighten your sorrow?'—It was almost -dark and her face was hidden; I could not see her features, and her -voice, which was extremely sweet, was unfamiliar to me. But her -pronunciation and her manner convinced me that she did not belong to our -class. -</p> -<p> -"'Signora,' I replied, rising, 'my poor mother is dying. I ought to be -with her, but, as she is fully conscious and I have reached the end of -my courage, I came outside to weep, so that she should not hear me. I am -going back to her, for it is cowardly to weep like this.' -</p> -<p> -"'Yes,' she said, 'we must have enough courage to lend some to those who -are struggling in the death agony. Go back to your mother; but tell me -first if all hope is lost? has she no doctor?' -</p> -<p> -"'The doctor has not been to-day, and I understand that he can do -nothing more.' -</p> -<p> -"She asked me the doctor's name and my mother's, and when I answered, -she said: 'What! has she grown so much worse during the night? he told -me last evening that he still hoped to save her.' -</p> -<p> -"These words, which she involuntarily let fall did not lead me to think -that it was the Princess of Palmarosa who was speaking to me. I did not -then know what many people do not know to-day, that that charitable -woman paid several doctors to attend the poor of the city, the suburbs, -and the country; that, without ever appearing in person, unwilling to -receive the reward of her good works in the esteem and gratitude of -others, she gave the most assiduous and careful attention to all the -details of our hardships and our necessities. -</p> -<p> -"I was too much engrossed by my grief to pay the same attention to her -words that I afterwards paid to them. I left her; but when I entered my -poor invalid's room, I saw that the veiled lady had followed me. She -approached my mother's bed without speaking, took her hand and held it a -long time, leaned over her, looked into her eyes, listened to her -breathing, and finally said in my ear: 'Young man, your mother is not so -ill as you think. She still has some strength and vitality. The doctor -did wrong to give up hope. I will send him to you and I am sure that he -will save her.' -</p> -<p> -"'Who is this woman?' my mother asked in a feeble voice; 'I do not -recognize you, my dear, but I recognize everybody else here.' -</p> -<p> -"'I am a neighbor of yours,' replied the princess, 'and I came to tell -you that the doctor is coming soon.' -</p> -<p> -"She went out, and my father at once exclaimed: 'That woman is the -Princess Agatha! I recognized her perfectly.' -</p> -<p> -"We could not believe my father; we supposed that he was mistaken, but -we did not have time to discuss the question much. Mother said that she -felt better, and the doctor soon arrived, ordered other remedies, and -left us, saying that she was saved. -</p> -<p> -"And so she was; and since then she has always insisted that the veiled -lady she saw at her death-bed was her patron saint, who had appeared to -her just as she was praying to her, and that the breath of that blessed -spirit had restored her life as by a miracle. We cannot disabuse my dear -mother's mind of that pious and poetic idea, and my brothers and -sisters, who were children then, share it with her. The doctor always -pretended that he didn't know what we meant when we talked about a woman -in a black <i>mazzaro</i>, who had just entered the house and gone out -again, saying that he was coming, and that my mother was saved. -</p> -<p> -"They say that the princess requires absolute secrecy from all those -whom she employs in her good works, and indeed they go so far as to say -that her modesty in that respect amounts to a mania. Her secret was kept -for many years; but the truth always comes out at last, and now many -know that she is the hidden providence of the unfortunate. But see the -injustice and absurdity of human judgments! Some of our people declare -that she once committed a crime, and made a vow to atone for it; that -her noble and saintly life is a self-imposed, terrible penance; that in -her heart she hates all mankind so bitterly that she will never exchange -a sympathetic word with those whom she assists; but that the fear of -everlasting punishment impels her to devote her life to works of -charity. Isn't it horrible to form such judgments? And yet that is what -I have heard said, in a very low tone, it is true, by old women who have -called to see my mother in the evening, and it is sometimes repeated by -younger people, who are impressed by these extraordinary conjectures. -For my own part, I was fully convinced that I had not seen a phantom, -and although my father, fearing lest he might lose the princess's -good-will if he betrayed her incognito, dared not repeat that it was she -who had appeared to us, he said it at first so naturally and so -confidently that I could not doubt it. -</p> -<p> -"As soon as my mother was convalescent, I went and offered to pay the -doctor for his services; but he refused my money, as did the druggist. -They replied to my questions according to the lesson that had been -taught them, that a secret association of wealthy and devout people paid -them for their trouble and outlay." -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap16"></a>XVI -<br><br> -CONCLUSION OF MAGNANI'S STORY -</h4> - -<p> -"My brain began to work," said Magnani, continuing his narrative. "As -the grief that had overwhelmed me gave place to joy, the romantic -portion of my adventure recurred to my memory. The slightest details -stood out distinctly and assumed an intoxicating charm. That woman's -soft voice, her graceful figure, her noble carriage, her white hand, -were constantly in my mind. A ring which she wore, of a curious shape, -had attracted my attention when she felt my poor mother's pulse. -</p> -<p> -"I had never entered the Palmarosa palace. It is not open to strangers -or to inquisitive natives, like most of the ancient abodes of our -patricians. The princess has lived in retirement there, hidden from the -world, so to speak, ever since her father's death, receiving very few -visitors, going out only at night, and that very rarely. I had to watch -for an opportunity to see her near at hand, for I was determined to see -her with the eyes which I had for her alone thenceforth. I had never -desired before that time to see her features, and she had shown them so -seldom in ten years that the people of the suburb had forgotten them. -When she rode out the shades were lowered, and when she went to church -her head was completely enveloped in her black mantilla. Indeed, it was -commonly said among us that she had once been very beautiful, but that -she had had a scrofulous eruption on her face which made her so -frightful that she preferred not to show herself. -</p> -<p> -"All this was simply vague rumor, for my father and other mechanics whom -she employed laughed at these stories, and declared that she was the -same as always. But my youthful brain was affected, none the less, by -these contradictory reports, and my desire to see that woman was blended -with an indefinable dread which prepared me by slow degrees for the -madness of falling in love with her. -</p> -<p> -"One fact in particular added to my ardent longing. My father, who went -often to the palace, as a simple journeyman, to assist the master -upholsterer to hang and drape curtains and the like, refused to take me -there with him, although I was accustomed to go everywhere else with -him. He had often put me off with excuses which I accepted without -examining them; but when my longing to find my way into that sanctuary -became overpowering, he was compelled to admit that the princess did not -like to see young people in her house, and that the master upholsterer -carefully excluded them when he went there with his workmen. This -extraordinary restriction served only to inflame my desire. One morning -I resolutely took my hammer and my apron and entered the Palmarosa -palace, carrying a prie-Dieu covered with velvet, which my father had -just finished in his employer's workshop. I knew that it was made for -Signora Agatha; I consulted nobody, but took possession of it and -started. -</p> -<p> -"That was five years ago, Michel! The palace which you see at this -moment, so resplendent, with its doors wide open, and filled with -people, was just the same a month ago as it was at the time of which I -am telling you, just the same as it had then been during the five years -that had passed since she was left an orphan and mistress of her own -life, and as it probably will be again to-morrow. It was a tomb in which -she seemed to have buried herself alive. All the treasures to-day spread -out for everyone to see were buried in darkness under layers of dust, -like relics of the dead in a tomb. Two or three servants, dismal and -silent, walked noiselessly through the long galleries closed to the -sunlight and the outer air. On all sides thick curtains hanging before -the windows, doors which refused to swing on their rusty hinges, an air -of solemn neglect, statues standing erect in the shadow like ghosts, -family portraits that followed you with their eyes with a distrustful -air. I was frightened, and yet I walked on. The house was not so -jealously guarded as I expected. It had invisible sentinels in its -reputation for inhospitable gloom and the dread of its loneliness. I -carried thither the insane audacity of my twenty years, the ill-fated -rashness of a heart enamored in anticipation, and rushing headlong to -its destruction. -</p> -<p> -"By a chance which seemed like fatality, I was not questioned by anyone. -The few servants of that dismal abode did not see me, or did not think -of preventing me from proceeding, relying, perhaps, upon some Cerberus -nearer to the person of their mistress, whose duty it was to guard the -door of her apartments, and who, by some miracle, happened not to be -there. -</p> -<p> -"Instinct or destiny guided me. I passed through several rooms, I put -aside heavy, dust-covered portières; I passed through one more open -door and found myself in a very richly furnished room, where a -full-length portrait of a man occupied a panel of the wall directly -opposite me. I stopped. That portrait sent a shudder through my veins. I -recognized it from my father's description of the original, whose -character was then a much more common subject of anecdote and gossip -among our people than the peculiarities of the princess. It was the -portrait of Dionigi Palmarosa, Princess Agatha's father, and I must tell -you something of that terrible man, Michel; for it may be that you have -not as yet heard his name in this country, where nobody mentions it -except in fear and trembling. Indeed, I see that I should have mentioned -him to you before, for the hatred and terror which his memory inspires -would have explained to you in some measure the distrust, and even -malevolence with which his daughter, despite all her virtues, is -regarded by some persons of our station in life. -</p> -<p> -"Prince Dionigi was a fierce, despotic, cruel and overbearing man. The -pride of birth made him almost insane, and every indication of spirit or -of resistance on the part of his inferiors was punished with incredible -arrogance and severity. Vindictive to excess, he had, it was said, -killed his wife's lover with his own hand, and worried her to death, -poor creature, in a sort of captivity. He was bitterly detested by his -equals, and still more bitterly by the poor, whom he assisted, however, -on occasion, with lordly liberality, but in such a humiliating way that -one felt degraded by his benefactions. -</p> -<p> -"Now you will understand better the small degree of sympathy which his -daughter has acquired. It seems to me that the constraint in which she -passed her early youth, under the iron rule of such a detestable father, -may well explain her reserved disposition, and what I may call the -premature withering or repression of her heart. Doubtless she is afraid -of reawakening antipathies connected with the name she bears, by -entering into relations with other people; and if she avoids intercourse -with her fellow men, it is for reasons which should arouse the -compassion and deep interest of fair-minded persons. -</p> -<p> -"A single other fact will serve to exhibit Prince Dionigi's disposition. -About fifteen or sixteen years ago, I think—it is all very vague -in my boyish memories,—a young mountaineer in his service, being -maddened beyond endurance by the harshness of his language, ventured, -they say, to shrug his shoulders as he held the stirrup for the prince -to dismount from his horse. He was a worthy, honest fellow, but proud -and of violent temper. The prince struck him a vicious blow. Thereafter -they hated each other intensely, and the groom—his name was -Ercolano—left the Palmarosa palace, saying that he knew the great -secret of the family and that he would soon have his revenge. What was -that secret? He had no time to reveal it, and no one ever knew what he -had to reveal; for they found Ercolano the next morning on the seashore, -murdered, with a dagger bearing the Palmarosa arms in his breast. His -relations dared not demand justice, they were poor!" -</p> -<p> -Magnani had reached this point when the white figure they had seen -wandering about the terrace crossed the flower-garden once more and went -inside. Michel shuddered from head to foot. -</p> -<p> -"I don't know why your story has such an effect upon me," he said. "I -seem to feel the cold blade of that dagger in my breast. That woman -terrifies me. A strange superstition is creeping into my mind. A person -cannot have a murderer's blood in her veins without having either a -wicked heart or an unhinged mind. Give me a chance to breathe, Magnani, -before you finish your story." -</p> -<p> -"The painful emotion that you feel, the dark thoughts that come to your -mind," rejoined Magnani, "all fell to my lot at sight of Dionigi's -portrait; but I passed on and through another door; the staircase -leading to the casino was before me, and I found myself in the -princess's oratory, where I set down the prie-Dieu and looked about me. -No one there! I had no excuse for going farther; the mistress of that -depressing mansion had evidently gone out. So I must needs retire -without seeing her, lose the benefit of my audacity, and perhaps never -again have the courage or the opportunity. -</p> -<p> -"It occurred to me to make a noise to attract her attention, in case she -were in the adjoining room; for I was certainly in her apartments, I -could not doubt it. I took my hammer and struck the gilt nails of the -prie-Dieu, as if I were putting the finishing touch to it. -</p> -<p> -"My stratagem succeeded.—'Who is there? who is making such a noise?' -said a faint voice, with a pure and distinct enunciation which left no -doubt in my mind of the identity of that voice with that of the -mysterious visitor whose accents had not ceased to echo in my heart like -an ineffably sweet melody. -</p> -<p> -"I walked toward a velvet portière and raised it with the determination -born of a last hope. I saw a woman reclining on a couch, in a bedroom -sumptuously furnished in antique style: it was the princess; I had -roused her from her siesta. -</p> -<p> -"My appearance terrified her beyond words; she leaped into the middle of -the room as if she would fly. Her lovely face, whose gentle and somewhat -languid serenity I had been able to contemplate with admiration for a -second, was distorted by childish, incredible terror. -</p> -<p> -"I hastened to retrace the steps I had taken.—'I beg your excellency -not to be frightened,' I said: 'I am only a poor upholsterer's -apprentice, an awkward lout, ashamed of my mistake. I thought that your -highness was out, and I was working here——' -</p> -<p> -"'Go away!' she exclaimed, 'go away!' -</p> -<p> -"And with a gesture in which there was more bewilderment and dismay than -sternness and anger, she pointed to the door. -</p> -<p> -"I attempted to go, but I seemed to be rooted to the floor as in a -dream. Suddenly I saw the princess, who had risen with extraordinary -vehemence, turn as pale as a lovely lily; her breathing ceased; her head -fell back; her arms dropped at her sides. She would have fallen to the -floor had I not rushed to her and caught her in my arms. -</p> -<p> -"She had lost consciousness. I placed her on her couch, I was so -bewildered that it did not occur to me to call for help. Indeed what -would have been the use of ringing? Everybody was asleep or attending to -his special duty in that house, where silence and solitude alone seemed -to be absolute masters. May God forgive me! Twenty times since then I -have been tempted to enter her service as a footman! -</p> -<p> -"Oh! Michel, it would be impossible for me to tell you to-day what took -place within me during the two or three minutes that that woman lay -stretched out like a dead woman before my eyes, with her lips as white -and dry as pure wax, her eyes half-open, but strange and expressionless, -her dark hair falling over her brow on which the cold perspiration stood -in beads, and all that exquisite, refined beauty, above all comparison -in my thought. It was not the intoxicating flame of a gross animal -passion that was kindled in my plebeian blood. It was adoration, as pure -and timid and refined and mysterious as the being who inspired it. I -felt an irresistible longing to prostrate myself at the feet of a dead -and gone martyr, for I thought that she was dead, and it seemed as if my -soul were ready to leave the earth with hers. -</p> -<p> -"I dared not touch her; I did not know what to do to restore her. I had -no voice with which to call for help. I was motionless in my perplexity, -as one is when struggling violently in a horrible dream. At last a phial -fell under my hand, I know not how. She recovered consciousness little -by little, looked at me without seeing me, not understanding or seeking -to understand who I could be. At last she raised herself on her elbow -and seemed to be collecting her thoughts. -</p> -<p> -"'Who are you, my friend?' she said, seeing me on my knees by her side, -'and what do you want? You seem to feel very sorrowful.' -</p> -<p> -"'Ah! yes, your highness, God is my witness that I am very unhappy to -have frightened you so.' -</p> -<p> -"'You did not frighten me,' she said, with an evident embarrassment -which astonished me. 'Did I cry out?—Ah! yes,' she continued, with -a shudder, yielding once more to an impulse of distrust or -alarm.—'I was asleep; you came in; you frightened me. I do not -like to be surprised in that way. But did I say anything unkind to you, -that you weep?' -</p> -<p> -"'No, your highness,' I replied; 'you fainted, and I would rather have -died than have caused you this discomfort.' -</p> -<p> -"'Am I alone here, pray?' she cried in a tone of distress that tore my -heart. 'Can anybody who pleases enter my apartments and insult -me?'—She rose and ran to her bell-rope. She seemed -desperate—beside herself. Her words and her excitement had -affected me so painfully that it did not occur to me to fly. And yet, if -she had rung—if anyone had come—I should have been treated -like a criminal. But she stopped, and the expression of her face told me -the truth at once concerning her disposition. -</p> -<p> -"It was a blending of unhealthy suspicion and sympathetic kindliness. -She had been so wretchedly unhappy in her early youth—so everyone -said! At all events, she could not have been ignorant of her father's -execrable character. She may have witnessed some murder in her -childhood. Who knows what scenes of violence and terror have been -enacted behind the thick walls of that dumb mansion? It was by no means -impossible that she might have acquired therefrom some mental malady of -which I had just witnessed an outbreak; and yet what angelic sweetness -her glance expressed when she dropped the bell-cord, apparently overcome -by my humble attitude and the grief by which I was overwhelmed! -</p> -<p> -"'You came in here by chance, did you not?' she said. 'You did not know -that it is a whim of mine not to like new faces; or, if you did know it, -you had the courage to disregard my orders, because you have had some -misfortune which I can lighten? I have seen you somewhere; I have a -vague remembrance of your features. Your name is——?' -</p> -<p> -"'Antonio Magnani, your highness. My father works here sometimes.' -</p> -<p> -"'I know him; he has some little means. Is he sick? Has he run in debt?' -</p> -<p> -"'No, signora,' I replied, 'I do not ask alms, although you are the only -person on earth from whom I could accept alms without blushing. I have -long wished to see you; not to beg from you, but to bless you. You saved -my mother; you encouraged me. You leaned over her pillow; you restored -my hope and her life. That is certain; of course you do not remember it, -but I shall never forget it. May God reward you for what you did for us! -That is all I wanted to say to your highness; and now I will go away, -begging you not to blame anyone, for the fault is entirely mine.' -</p> -<p> -"'I will not tell anyone that you came into my house in spite of my -orders,' she said. 'Your employer and your father would reprove you for -it. Nor do you say that you saw me in such a fright. People would say -that I am mad, as they say now, I believe, and I do not much like to -have people talk about me. As for your thanks, I do not deserve them. -You are mistaken; I never did anything for you, my child.' -</p> -<p> -"'Oh! I am not mistaken, your highness; I should have known you among a -thousand. The heart has instincts deeper and truer than the senses. You -do not wish your benefactions to be discovered, so I do not speak of -them. I do not intend to thank you for paying the doctor; no, you are -rich, and it is easy for you to give. But you are not obliged to love -and pity those whom you help. And yet you pitied me when you saw me -weeping at the door of the house where my mother lay dying, and you -loved my mother when you leaned over her bed of pain.' -</p> -<p> -"'But I tell you again, my child, that I do not know your mother.' -</p> -<p> -"'That is possible; but you knew that she was sick. You wished to see -her, and charity was in your very glance—how ardent at that -moment!—since your glance, your voice, your touch, your breath, cured -her as by a miracle. My mother was conscious of it; she remembers it; -she thinks that it was an angel who appeared to her; she addresses her -prayers to you because she thinks that you are in Heaven. But I was sure -that I should find you on earth, and should have an opportunity to thank -you.' -</p> -<p> -"Princess Agatha's cold and impassive face relaxed as if involuntarily. -It lighted up for an instant with a warm glow of sympathy, and I saw -that treasures of kindliness were contending in that suffering heart -against a painful misanthropical propensity.—'Well,' she said, with a -divine smile, 'I see, at all events, that you are a good son and adore -your mother. God grant that I may in truth have brought her good -fortune! but I believe that God alone deserves thanks. Thank Him and -worship Him, my child; He alone understands and can relieve certain -sorrows, for men cannot do much for one another. How old are you?' -</p> -<p> -"I was twenty at that time. She listened to my reply, and said, looking -at me as if she had not yet noticed my features: 'True, you are older -than I thought. You can come and work here when you choose. I am -accustomed to your face now, and it will not startle me again; but -another time do not wake me suddenly by hammering in my ears in that -way, for I am always depressed and nervous when I wake. That is my -disease!' -</p> -<p> -"While she was speaking, and while she looked after me as I walked -toward the door, her eyes expressed this thought: 'I do not offer you my -assistance in life, but I will keep my eye on you, as I do on so many -others, and I will find ways to serve you without your knowledge; and I -will take measures to avoid having to listen to your thanks again.' -</p> -<p> -"Yes, Michel, that is what was said by that face, at once angelic and -cold, maternal and unfeeling; a terrible enigma, which I have never been -able to solve, and which I am less able to solve to-day than ever." -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap17"></a>XVII -<br><br> -THE CYCLAMEN -</h4> - -<p> -Magnani ceased to speak, and it did not occur to Michel to question him. -But at last the young painter, coming to himself, asked his friend for -the rest of his story. -</p> -<p> -"My story is at an end," replied Magnani. "Ever since that day I have -been admitted to the palace as a workman. I have often seen the -princess, but I have never spoken to her." -</p> -<p> -"How does it happen, then, that you love her? for you do not know her? -you do not know her real opinions?" -</p> -<p> -"I thought that I had guessed them. But, during this last week, when she -has seemed inclined to emerge suddenly from her tomb, throw open her -house, and take part in social life; especially to-day, when she has -been going about and conversing familiarly with people of our station, -with kindly words and cordial invitations—for I overheard the -conversation that you had with her and the Marquis della Serra on the -main staircase; I was close at hand,—I no longer know what to think -of her. Yes, even recently I thought that I had fathomed her character. -Twice a year, in spring and autumn, I have come here with other workmen, -I have seen her pass from time to time, walking slowly, with an -absent-minded, melancholy, yet perfectly tranquil air. If she sometimes -seemed downcast and distressed, the serenity of her glance was not -disturbed. She always bowed to us collectively with greater courtesy -than persons of her rank ordinarily show to us. Sometimes she would -exchange with the master upholsterer or my father a few pleasant words, -equally free from pride and from warmth. She seemed to feel an -instinctive respect for their years. I was the only young workman -admitted to her house, but she never seemed to pay the slightest -attention to me. She did not avoid my glances, but met them without -seeing them. -</p> -<p> -"At certain times, however, I noticed that she saw many more things than -she seemed to see; and that people who complained, even when she did not -seem to hear them, obtained justice or help at once, without knowing -whose was the mysterious hand put forth over them. You see, she conceals -her boundless charity as other people conceal their shameful -selfishness. And you ask me how it happens that I love her! Her virtue -arouses my admiration, and the dumb despair which seems to be crushing -her inspires in my heart profound and affectionate compassion. To admire -and to pity—is not that to adore? The pagans, who have left so many -magnificent ruins on our soil, sacrificed to their gods, all radiant -with strength and glory and beauty; but they did not love them; and we -Christians have felt the light of faith pass from our minds into our -hearts, because God was shown to us in the guise of a bleeding, -tear-bedewed Christ. Ah! yes, I do love that woman, who has paled, like -a flower of the woods, beneath the terrible shadow of paternal tyranny. -I do not know the story of her infancy, but I divine the misery of her -girlhood. They say that, when she was fourteen, her father, being unable -to force her to marry in accordance with the views dictated by his pride -and ambition, to which he proposed to sacrifice her, confined her for a -long time in a secluded room of yonder palace, and that she suffered -there from hunger, thirst, heat, neglect, and despair. Nothing definite -has ever been known about it. Another version of the story also gained -currency; it was said that she was in a convent; but the terror-stricken -air of her servants said plainly enough that her disappearance was a -part of some unjust and unnatural punishment. -</p> -<p> -"When Dionigi died, his heiress reappeared in the palace, with an old -aunt who was little better than he, but who allowed her to breathe a -little more freely. They say that at that time again she had several -brilliant offers of marriage, but that she obstinately refused, thereby -much angering the princess, her aunt. Her death put an end at last to -her niece's persecutions, and at the age of twenty she found herself -alone and free in the house of her fathers. But it was evidently too -late for her to rouse from the state of prostration to which so much -sorrow had brought her. She had lost the strength and the desire to be -happy. She was torpid, a little inclined to be morose, and seemingly -incapable of inviting the affection of others. She gained the affection, -however, of some persons of her own rank, and it is certain that the -Marquis della Serra, whom she refused to marry when he entered the lists -several years ago, has never ceased to love her ardently. Everybody says -so, and I know it; I will tell you how. -</p> -<p> -"Although I pride myself, without undue boasting, on being a good -workman, I confess that when I am in the palace, I am, in spite of -myself, the slowest of the slow. I am excited and perturbed. The ring of -the hammers irritates my nerves, as if I were a silly girl; I am -overcome by the heat at the slightest exertion with my arms. Every -moment of the time I either have a feeling that I am going to faint, or -am tempted to creep into dark corners, crouch there out of sight, and -allow myself to be left behind. I surprise myself listening, prowling, -spying. I no longer dare to go into the princess's oratory or her -bedroom alone. Oh! no; although I know the road perfectly well. My -respect is stronger now than my insane and restless passion! But if I -can breathe the perfume that escapes through the chinks of the door of -her boudoir; if I can hear, even at a distance, the sound of her light -footsteps, which I know so well—then I am content, I am drunk with -joy. -</p> -<p> -"Thus I have heard, I dare not say involuntarily—for if chance placed -me within earshot, my will was not strong enough to prevent me from -listening,—more than one interview between the princess and the -marquis. How often have I been consumed by frantic jealousy? but I have -acquired certain knowledge that he is only her friend, a loyal, -respectful, submissive friend. -</p> -<p> -"One day, among others, they had a conversation, every word of which, I -believe, is engraved with fatal distinctness on my memory. -</p> -<p> -"The princess was saying when I entered the adjoining room: -</p> -<p> -"'Oh! why question me so persistently? You know, my friend, that I am -absurdly impressionable; that the thought of the past freezes my blood, -and that, if I could make up my mind to speak of it—I believe, yes, I -believe that I should go mad!' -</p> -<p> -"'Very well, very well,' he cried, 'let us not speak of it, let us be -content with our tranquil friendship. Look at that lovely sky and those -sweet cyclamens, which seem to smile in your hands.' -</p> -<p> -"'These flowers do not smile,' she replied, 'you do not understand their -language, and I can tell you why I love them. It is because they are in -my eyes the emblem of my life and the image of my heart. See how -curiously limp they are; they are pure and fresh and fragrant; but is -there not something unhealthy and decrepit in the inversion and -unnatural upturning of their petals?' -</p> -<p> -"'It is true,' said the marquis, 'they have a sort of dishevelled look; -they grow as a general rule on windswept peaks. One would say that they -were trying to fly away from their stalks as if there were nothing to -hold them, and that nature had provided them with wings like -butterflies.' -</p> -<p> -"'And yet they do not fly away,' continued the princess; 'they are -firmly attached to their stalks. Although apparently fragile, there are -no hardier plants, and the most violent winds never strip them of their -petals. While the rose succumbs to a hot day, and strews the burning -earth with its leaves, the cyclamen is obstinate, and lives many days -and nights in retirement, and, as it were, shrunken into itself: it is a -flower that has no youth. You probably have never seen it just as it is -opening. I have patiently watched that mysterious process; when the bud -opens, the petals are rolled tightly together and separate with an -effort. The first one that frees itself stretches out like a bird's -wing, then throws itself backward and resumes its twisted position. -Another follows, and the flower, almost before it is open, is already -tremulous and wrinkled, as if it were about to die of old age. That is -its way of living, and it lives a long while so. Ah! it is a melancholy -flower, and that is why I carry it everywhere.' -</p> -<p> -"'No, no, it does not resemble you,' said the marquis, 'for its -uncovered breast exhales its fragrance freely to all the winds of -heaven, whereas your heart is mysteriously closed, even to the most -discreet and least exacting affection!' -</p> -<p> -"They were interrupted; but I knew enough. Ever since that day, I too -have loved the cyclamen, and I always cultivate it in my little garden; -but I dare not pluck the flowers and smell them. Their odor makes me ill -and drives me mad!" -</p> -<p> -"It is the same with me," said Michel. "Yes, it is a dangerous odor! But -I no longer hear the carriages, Magnani. Doubtless the palace will soon -be closed. I must go and join my father, for he must be tired out, -whatever he may say, and he may need my help." -</p> -<p> -They walked in the direction of the ball-room. It was deserted; Visconti -and his fellow-servants were extinguishing the candles which were still -carrying on the struggle against the daylight. -</p> -<p> -"Why this fête after all?" said Magnani, as he glanced about that -immense hall, whose height seemed to be doubled by the darkness -overhead, while the bluish rays of dawn crept sadly into the lower -portions through the open doors. "The princess might have helped the -poor in other ways, and I cannot yet understand why she submitted to -make this public demonstration of charity when she had always done good -so mysteriously hitherto. What miraculous change has taken place in our -reserved benefactress's existence? Instead of rejoicing at it, I, -although I would give my life for her, am hurt by it, and cannot think -of it without bitterness. I loved her as she was; I cannot understand -her when she is cured, consoled, and effusive. Is everybody to know her -and to love her now? People will no longer say that she is mad, that she -once committed a crime, that she is concealing a horrible secret, that -she is ransoming her soul by pious works, although she detests mankind! -Madman that I am! I am afraid of being cured myself, and I am jealous of -the happiness that she may have recovered! Tell me, Michel, do you -suppose that she has made up her mind to love the Marquis della Serra, -and that she will invite the court, the city, and the country, to -celebrate her betrothal magnificently under her own roof? She gave a -royal fête to-day; perhaps she will give a popular fête to-morrow. She -is making her peace with everybody; great and small will make merry at -her wedding! Ah! there will be dancing there! what fun for us, eh? and -how kind the princess is!" -</p> -<p> -Michel remarked his companion's bitterness and irony; but although he -was conscious of a thrill of strange emotion at the idea of Agatha's -marriage to the marquis, he put all the more restraint upon himself. He, -too, had been struck to the heart, but the shock was too recent for him -to dare, or to deign, to give the name of love to his feeling. Magnani's -madness served as a warning to him. He pitied him, but there seemed to -him to be in that young man's abnormal position something humiliating to -which he did not choose to subject himself. -</p> -<p> -"Come to your senses, my friend," he said. "Such a beautiful fête, at -night, has a tendency to excite one, especially when one is only a -spectator. But here comes the sun above the horizon, and it should -dispel all phantoms and all visions. I feel as if I had just waked from -a fantastic dream. Listen! The birds are singing outside; there is -nothing here but dust and smoke. I am very sure that your madness is not -so absorbing every hour of your life as you fancy at this moment of -excitement and unreserve. I will wager that when you have slept two -hours you will return to your work feeling like a different man. For my -part, I already feel the salutary effect of real life, and I promise you -that the next time we see the spectre pass close to us, I will not try -to dispute her glance with you." -</p> -<p> -"Her glance!" cried Magnani, bitterly, "her glance! Ah! you remind me of -the glance she bestowed upon you, before the ball opened, the first time -she saw your face. My God! what an expression! If it had fallen upon me, -just once in my life, I would have killed myself instantly, in order not -to live any more upon certainty and cold reason, after such an illusion, -such delirious joy. And you, Michel, felt the consuming fire that she -communicated to you. You were scorched by it for an instant, and, but -for my mockery, you would still gloat over it with rapture. But what -does it matter to me now? I see clearly that she has lost her mind; that -she has deprived her solitary sorrow of its sanctity; that she loves -someone, you or the marquis—what matter which? Why this special -display of friendship for your father, whom she hardly knew a year ago? -My father has worked for her ever since she was born, and she barely -knows his name. Does she propose to cap the climax of her eccentric life -by an act of downright insanity? Does she propose to atone for her -father's tyranny and unpopularity by marrying a child of the -people—a mere boy?" -</p> -<p> -"You are the one who is mad," said Michel, disturbed and almost angry. -"Go and get a breath of fresh air, Magnani, and don't involve me in the -vagaries that your excitement suggests to you. Signora Agatha is -sleeping peacefully at this moment, remembering neither your name nor -mine. If she honored me with a kindly glance, it was because she loves -painting and is pleased with my work.—Look, my friend," added the -young artist, pointing to the figures of his fresco, upon which a rosy -beam of the morning sun shone through the open windows. "There are the -only intoxicating realities of my life. Let the lovely princess marry -the Marquis della Serra. I shall be very glad; he is a courteous -gentleman, and I like his face. I, when I choose, will paint a more -perfect and less problematical divinity than the pale-cheeked Agatha." -</p> -<p> -"You, wretched boy? Never!" exclaimed Magnani, indignantly. -</p> -<p> -"I agree that she is beautiful," rejoined Michel, with a smile. "I have -scrutinized her, and I have profited by that scrutiny. I have obtained -from her all that I should never ask her for, the spectacle of her grace -and her charms, to reproduce them and idealize them at my pleasure." -</p> -<p> -"I have always been told that artists had hearts of ice," said Magnani, -staring at Michel in blank amazement. "You have seen the storm which -drives me wild, and you remain cold—you laugh at me! Ah! I blush to -think that I have betrayed my madness to you, and I am going away to -hide my head!" -</p> -<p> -Magnani disappeared, frantic with excitement, and Michel was left alone -in the almost deserted ball-room. Visconti was extinguishing the last -candles, and Pier-Angelo, before taking his leave, was assisting to -restore order temporarily in that structure which was to be entirely -removed before evening. -</p> -<p> -Michel also assisted, but languidly. His own reflections having cooled -his excitement, he felt utterly exhausted, mentally and physically. -</p> -<p> -Magnani's abrupt outbreak disturbed him. He reproached himself because, -after undergoing in silence the rebound of the young mechanic's -agitation, he had not succeeded better in sympathizing with his trouble, -but had allowed him to go away uncomforted. On the other hand, he could -not avoid a slight feeling of irritation. It seemed to him that Magnani -had carried his effusiveness too far in seeking to convince him that he, -Michel, was the object of a sudden passion on the part of the princess. -It was so absurd, so improbable, that Michel, who was more -self-possessed, more of a man of the world at eighteen than Magnani -could ever be, shrugged his shoulders pityingly. -</p> -<p> -And yet, self-esteem is such a persistent and impertinent adviser that -Michel now and again heard a voice within him saying: "Magnani has -guessed aright. Jealousy gives him a keenness of vision which you -yourself have not. Agatha loves you; she took fire at first sight. And -why should she not love you?" -</p> -<p> -Michel was intoxicated and abashed at once by these flushes of vanity -which rose to his cheeks. He was in haste to return home and recover his -tranquillity altogether with sleep. And yet he desired to wait for his -father, who was still at work, zealous and indefatigable, attending to a -thousand minute details, a thousand apparently unnecessary precautions. -</p> -<p> -"Patience!" said the excellent Pier-Angelo. "I shall have finished in a -minute; but I want our dear princess to be able to sleep in peace, and I -don't propose that anybody shall come here and make a racket before -to-night. Above all things, I don't propose to leave a single candle -lighted in any corner. Now is the time when there is most danger of -fire! Look! that idiot of a Visconti has left the lamp in the grotto -burning; I can see it from here. Go and put it out, Michel, and take -care not to spill oil on the couch." -</p> -<p> -Michel went into the grotto of the naiad; but, before extinguishing the -lamp, he could not resist the temptation to gaze for a moment at the -beautiful statue, the lovely foliage with which he had decorated it, and -the couch whereon he had seen Agatha as in a dream. "How young she -looked and how lovely she was!" he thought; "and how that man who loves -her gazed at her, with an adoration which betrayed itself in spite of -him, and which infected the most immaterial portion of my heart! I -noticed others during the ball who stared at her with an insolence born -of desire, which made my whole being quiver with indignation! All these -great nobles love her, each in his own way, and she loves no one of -them!" -</p> -<p> -And Agatha's glance passed through his memory like a lightning-flash, -its dazzling brilliancy putting to flight all reason, all fear of -ridicule, all self-distrust. -</p> -<p> -While musing thus, he had extinguished the lamp, and had sunk upon the -cushions of the divan, expecting that his father would call him and that -he might enjoy one last moment of comfort before leaving that -fascinating grotto. -</p> -<p> -But fatigue overpowered him. He could contend no longer against the -chimeras of his imagination. Half-reclining comfortably on the couch, -and alone for the first time in twenty-four hours, he rapidly lost -consciousness. For one moment he dreamed with his eyes open. The next -moment he was sleeping soundly. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap18"></a>XVIII -<br><br> -THE MONKS -</h4> - -<p> -How many minutes,—or was it seconds only?—passed while -Michel was overpowered by that irresistible lassitude, he had no idea. -The power of the imagination, when transported into the domain of -dreams, travels so fast and surmounts so many obstacles at a single -bound, that time is an inadequate measure of it, especially in the first -sleep. -</p> -<p> -Michel had a strange dream. A woman softly entered the grotto, walked to -where he sat, leaned over him and gazed at him for a long time; he felt -her fragrant breath caress his brow, he fancied that he felt also the -fire of her glance fastened passionately upon him. But he could not see -her, for it was dark in the grotto, and, moreover, it was impossible for -him to raise his heavy eyelids; but it was Agatha; Michel's heart, -inflamed by that woman's presence, told him so plainly enough. -</p> -<p> -At last, as he tried to rouse himself in order to speak to her, she -placed her cool, soft lips on his forehead and imprinted a kiss thereon, -so long, but so light, that he could not summon the strength to reply to -it, overcome as he was by joy, and at the same time by the fear that it -was only a dream. -</p> -<p> -"But it is a dream, alas! it is nothing but a dream," he said to -himself, still sleeping; and yet the fear of waking caused him to wake. -So it is that, in sleep, the instinctive, frantic desire to prolong the -illusion causes it to vanish more quickly. -</p> -<p> -But what a strange and persistent dream! Michel, with his eyes open, -sitting half erect, supported by his trembling arm, saw and heard that -woman fly. The curtain at the entrance of the grotto being lowered, he -could distinguish only an indistinct figure; he felt the touch of a silk -dress; the curtain opened and closed again so quickly that it seemed to -him that the phantom passed through without touching it. -</p> -<p> -He started to follow her; but all his blood rushed back to his heart so -violently that he could not stand erect, but was compelled to fall back -on the divan, and it was a full minute before he was able to rush to the -blue velvet portière that separated him from the ball-room. -</p> -<p> -He drew it aside with a convulsive gesture and found himself face to -face with his father, who said, with a jocose and placid air: -</p> -<p> -"So it seems that we have been having a nap, eh, my boy? Now, everything -is in order; let us go home and see if little Mila is awake." -</p> -<p> -"Mila?" cried Michel, "is Mila here, father?" -</p> -<p> -"It may well be that she isn't far away," replied the old man. "I'll bet -that she hasn't closed her eyes all night; she was so anxious to come to -see the ball! But I forbade her to leave the house before daylight." -</p> -<p> -"It is daylight now," said Michel, "and Mila is probably here! Tell me, -father, did some woman, my sister, perhaps, just come into the grotto?" -</p> -<p> -"Did you dream it? I saw no one. To be sure, my eyes weren't looking in -that direction all the time, and I saw some striped skirts prowling -about outside, which meant that some curious creatures had stolen into -the garden. Can Mila have come in while my back was turned?" -</p> -<p> -"Why, this very instant, father, just as you came to the opening, -someone went out, a woman; I am certain of it!" -</p> -<p> -"You are talking at random now, for I saw nothing but my shadow on the -curtain. Come, you need a good nap, let us go home. They are just -closing the last door. If your sister is here we shall find her." -</p> -<p> -Michel was about to follow his father; but as he was turning away he saw -something glistening in the grotto and was led to cast a last glance -inside. Was it a spark that had fallen on the carpet, near the couch? He -stooped: it was a piece of jewelry, which he picked up and examined by -daylight. It was the gold locket, surrounded with diamonds and bearing -the princess's crest, which she had given Mila. He opened it to make -sure that it was the same. He recognized a lock of his own hair inside. -</p> -<p> -"I knew that Mila came into the grotto," he said to his father, as they -walked toward the garden; "she gave me a kiss which woke me." -</p> -<p> -"She evidently must have gone in there," rejoined Pier-Angelo, -indifferently; "but I didn't see her." -</p> -<p> -At that instant Mila emerged from a clump of magnolias, and came -forward, laughing and capering, to meet her father, whom she kissed -affectionately, as she did Michel. -</p> -<p> -"It is high time for you to come home and rest," she said; "I came to -tell you that your breakfast is waiting. I was so impatient to see you! -Are you terribly tired, father, dear?" -</p> -<p> -"Not at all," the good man replied, "I am used to these things, and a -sleepless night is all pleasure when you sup till morning. Your -breakfast will go begging, Mila; but your brother here is asleep on his -legs. Come, children; let us be off; see, they are closing the garden -gates now." -</p> -<p> -But, instead of continuing to close the gates, the servants suddenly -threw them wide open again, and Michel saw a procession of monks file -in, monks of divers orders, all carrying wallets and purses; they were -the begging brothers of all the mendicant orders, which have numerous -establishments in Catania and its neighborhood. They were making their -usual round and had come to collect for their respective communities the -broken meat left from the fête. Some two score of them passed slowly -through the gate; most of them had asses to carry away the avails of -their quest. There was something so surprising and comical in their -obsequious manner and their solemn bearing when they entered the -gardens, escorted by their asses,—strange guests at a ball—that -Michel, diverted from his emotion, had much ado to keep from laughing. -</p> -<p> -But no sooner were they fairly inside the gates than they broke ranks, -and, shaking off their consequential, discreet manner, began to run -toward the ball-room, each striving to outstrip his neighbors, beating -their asses to make them move faster, hurrying, jostling, and freely -exhibiting their greed and their jealousy. They overran the ball-room, -almost breaking down the fragile doors, and attempted to ascend the main -staircase of the peristyle, or to force their way into the kitchens. But -the butler and his <i>officers</i>, being prepared for the assault, and -knowing their ways, had carefully barricaded all the issues; they -brought forth the fragments destined for the monks, and distributed them -as impartially as possible. There were dishes of meat, remnants of -pastry, pitchers of wine, and even pieces of glass and porcelain which -had been broken during the fête, and which the good monks put together -with great care and mended most skilfully, for the adornment of their -own sideboards, or to sell to collectors. They quarrelled over the booty -with little decency, reviled the servants for not giving them all that -they were entitled to, for treating one better than another, for failing -in respect for the patron saints of their convents. They even threatened -them with the infirmities which those saints were supposed to be -especially skilful in curing when the afflicted person had acquired -their good-will. -</p> -<p> -"Bah! what a miserable ham you have given me!" cried one. "You are -already deaf in one ear; you can depend upon it that before long you -will not be able to hear the thunder with the other." -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> -<a id="figure03"></a> -<br> -<img src="images/figure03.jpg" width="300" alt="300"> -<div class="caption"> -<p><i>AFTER THE FÊTE.</i></p> -<p class="smaller"> -"<i>Here's a bottle half empty!" cried another. -"No prayers will be said for you under our roof, -and you'll never be cured of the stone, if you take -that terrible disease.</i>"</p> -</div></div> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -"Here's a bottle half empty!" cried another. "No prayers will be said -for you under our roof, and you'll never be cured of the stone, if you -take that terrible disease." -</p> -<p> -Others plied their trade gayly, with jests that made the distributors -laugh, and they showed so much wit and good-nature that the servants -secretly slipped the best pieces into their wallets. -</p> -<p> -At Rome Michel had seen dandified Capuchins, redolent with perfume under -their frocks, and displaying their sandals, with poetic gravity, in -close proximity to the Holy Father's consecrated slipper. The -poverty-stricken Sicilian monks seemed to him very indecent, very -laughable, and ever so little cynical, when they swooped down upon the -crumbs of that feast like a flock of greedy crows and chattering -magpies. He was attracted, however, by the high-spirited and intelligent -faces of some of them. It was the Sicilian common people again, in the -sack-cloth of the cloister—a noble race which bends beneath the yoke -but cannot be broken. -</p> -<p> -The young artist had returned to the ball-room to look on at this -curious spectacle, and he watched its various incidents with the -attention of a painter who turns everything to his own profit. He -noticed especially one of the monks, whose hood was pulled down to the -end of his beard, and who did not beg. He kept apart from the others, -and walked about the room as if he were more interested in the place -where the fête had been given than in the possible benefit he might -derive from it. Michel tried several times to see his features, and to -judge therefrom whether the intelligent mind of an artist or the regrets -of a man of the world were concealed beneath that monkish garb. He saw -him stealthily put aside his hood but once, and then he was impressed by -his repulsive ugliness. At the same instant the monk turned his eyes -upon him with an expression of malevolent curiosity; and instantly -looked away as if he feared to be surprised staring at other people. -</p> -<p> -"I have seen that ugly face somewhere," said Michel to his sister, who -was standing by his side. -</p> -<p> -"Do you call that a face?" replied the girl. "I saw nothing but a goat's -beard, the eyes of an owl, and a nose that looked like an old crushed -fig. You won't paint his portrait, I hope?" -</p> -<p> -"You said just now, Mila, that you knew several of these monks from -having seen them begging in our suburb; have you ever met that fellow?" -</p> -<p> -"I don't think so; but, if you are anxious to find out his name, it will -be very easy, for here is a brother who will tell me." -</p> -<p> -And the girl ran to meet a monk who was the last to arrive, without a -wallet, and without an ass, but with a little purse simply. He was a -tall, handsome man, of uncertain age; his beard was still as black as -ebony, although his crown of hair was beginning to turn gray. The -keenness of his black eyes, the noble contour of his aquiline nose, and -the smile that played about his red lips, indicated robust health, -conjoined with an amiable and decided character. He had neither the -unhealthy thinness nor the absurd obesity of most of his brethren. His -chestnut-colored frock was neat and clean, and he wore it with a -majestic air. He won Michel's confidence at the first glance; but it -angered the young man to see Mila almost throw her arms about the -Capuchin's neck, and take his beard in her two little hands, laughing -and pretending that she proposed to kiss him whether he would or not. -</p> -<p> -"Come, come, little one, softly, softly," said the monk, pushing her -away with fatherly gentleness. "No matter if I am your uncle, a monk -musn't be kissed." -</p> -<p> -Thereupon, Michel bethought him of the Capuchin Paolo-Angelo, of whom -his father had so often spoken to him, and whom he had never seen. <i>Fra -Angelo</i> was Pier-Angelo's brother in affection not less than by birth. -He was the youngest of Michel's uncles. His intellect and the dignity of -his character made him the pride of the family, and as soon as -Pier-Angelo saw him, he ran to Michel to introduce him. -</p> -<p> -"Brother," said the old decorator, pressing the Capuchin's hand warmly, -"give my son your blessing; I should have brought him to your convent to -ask it before this if we had not been employed here a little beyond our -strength." -</p> -<p> -"My child," said Fra Angelo to his nephew, "I give you the blessing of a -kinsman and a friend; I am happy to see you, and your face pleases me." -</p> -<p> -"I can say the same," replied Michel, putting his hand in his uncle's. -</p> -<p> -But, to manifest his affection, the good monk, who had the muscles of an -athlete, squeezed his fingers so hard that the young man thought for a -moment that the bones were broken. He did not wish to let it appear that -that caress was a little too rough; but the perspiration stood out on -his forehead, and he said to himself with a smile, that a man of the -build of his uncle, the Capuchin, was better adapted to demand alms than -to beg. -</p> -<p> -But, as strength and gentleness almost always go hand in hand, Fra -Angelo approached the distributor of alms with a self-restraint and -reserve as marked as the eagerness and persistence of his fellows. He -saluted him with a smile, opened his purse without deigning to put out -his hand, and closed it without looking to see what had been put in it, -muttering a very laconic sentence of thanks; after which he returned to -his brother and nephew, refusing to burden himself with provisions of -any sort. -</p> -<p> -"In that case," said a very pious footman, "you have not enough money!" -</p> -<p> -"Do you think so?" rejoined the monk. "I have no idea. However little it -may be, the convent must needs be satisfied with it." -</p> -<p> -"Do you wish me to go and demand more for you, my brother? If you will -promise to pray for me every day this week, I will make them give you -more." -</p> -<p> -"Oh! don't take that trouble," replied the dignified Capuchin, with a -smile; "I will pray for you <i>gratis</i>, and my prayers will be worth all -the more. Your mistress, Princess Agatha, gives enough in charity, and I -come to her house only in obedience to my orders." -</p> -<p> -"Uncle," said little Mila, in an undertone, "there is a brother of your -order yonder, whose face puzzles my father and brother. They think that -he looks like somebody else." -</p> -<p> -"Somebody else? Whom do you mean?" -</p> -<p> -"Look at him," said Pier-Angelo. "Michel is right, he has a bad face. -You must know him. He is standing all alone, over there under the -musicians' platform." -</p> -<p> -"So far as his figure and his carriage are concerned, I don't recognize -him as any brother of our convent. And yet he wears the frock of a -Capuchin. But why does he interest you?" -</p> -<p> -"Because it seems to us," said Pier, lowering his voice, "that he -resembles Abbé Ninfo." -</p> -<p> -"In that case, off with you," said Fra Angelo, hastily. "I will go and -speak to him, and I will soon find out who he is and what he is here -for." -</p> -<p> -"Yes, yes, let us go," said Pier-Angelo. "Go first, children. I will -follow you." -</p> -<p> -Michel put his sister's arm through his, and they were soon on the way -to Catania. -</p> -<p> -"It seems that this Abbé Ninfo wishes us ill," said Mila to her -brother, "and has the power to injure us. Do you know why, Michel?" -</p> -<p> -"Not very well; but I am suspicious of a man who disguises himself, -apparently for the purpose of spying. Whether we are concerned or -somebody else, mystery conceals evil projects." -</p> -<p> -"Psha!" said the heedless Mila, after a moment's silence, "perhaps he is -only a monk, like the rest. He stood apart and lurked in corners, as -some of them often do after the crowd has passed, on days of processions -or feast-days, to see if they can't find some jewel that somebody has -lost. Then they pick it up without a word and carry it to their convent, -to be surrendered to its owner in consideration of a round sum for one -or two masses, or to be used in unearthing some love secret; for these -good fathers are very inquisitive, as a general rule!" -</p> -<p> -"You don't love the monks, do you, Mila? You are only half a Sicilian?" -</p> -<p> -"That depends. I love my uncle and those who are like him." -</p> -<p> -"By the way," said Michel, reminded by the words <i>lost jewel</i> of the -adventure which the Capuchins had driven from his mind; "you had been in -the ball-room, hadn't you, a moment before I met you in the garden?" -</p> -<p> -"No," she replied; "if you had not taken me in with you to watch the -monks beg, I never should have dreamed of going in. Why do you ask me -that? I saw the ball-room all finished before the fête. What do I care -to see an empty room where no one is dancing? It was the ball, the -dancing, the dresses, that I wanted to see! But you wouldn't take me -even as far as the door last night!" -</p> -<p> -"Why not tell me the truth when the matter is of no importance? There is -nothing out of the way, my dear little sister, in your having come to -the naiad's grotto to wake me just now." -</p> -<p> -"Father says that you are asleep on your legs, Michel, and I see that he -is quite right. I will take my oath that since yesterday morning, when I -brought you the leaves you asked me to pick, I have not been inside the -grotto." -</p> -<p> -"Ah! Mila, this is too much. You used not to tell falsehoods, and I am -sorry to see that you have that wretched habit now." -</p> -<p> -"Hush, brother, you insult me," said Mila, proudly withdrawing her arm. -"I have never lied, and I shall not begin to-day, just to please you." -</p> -<p> -"Little sister," rejoined Michel, walking after her and quickening his -pace to keep up with her, for she was hurrying on ahead, hurt and -grieved, "will you please show me the locket Princess Agatha gave you?" -</p> -<p> -"No, Master Michelangelo," retorted the girl, "you are not worthy to -look at it. In the days when I cut a lock of your hair to wear upon my -heart, you were not unkind as you have become since." -</p> -<p> -"If I were in your place," said Michel, ironically, "I would take the -locket from my bosom and throw it in the face of the unkind brother who -teases me so!" -</p> -<p> -"Here! take it!" said Mila, pulling the locket from her bosom, and -handing it to Michel with an angry gesture; "you can take back your -hair, I don't care for it any longer. But return me the locket; I care -for that because it was given me by somebody kinder than you." -</p> -<p> -"Two lockets just alike!" said Michel to himself, placing them side by -side in his hand; "is this the sequel of my vision?" -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap19"></a>XIX -<br><br> -YOUTHFUL LOVES -</h4> - -<p> -Michel dared not ask his sister for the explanation of such a prodigy. -He ran and shut himself up in his little room, and, seating himself upon -his bed, instead of going to sleep, he opened and compared those two -precisely similar trinkets and their contents. They were absolutely -indistinguishable, as were the two locks of hair; so that, after Michel -had examined and handled them a long while, he no longer knew which -belonged to his sister. Thereupon he recalled a remark of hers, which -had made little impression upon him, although it had seemed somewhat -strange to him for an instant. Mila declared that the lock of hair she -had entrusted to the princess had diminished by one half in the -jeweller's hands. -</p> -<p> -It was not possible to explain that curious fact. The princess did not -know Michel, she had never seen him; he had not returned to Catania when -she had taken Mila's scapulary and exchanged it for this beautiful -locket. It is difficult to believe that a woman can fall in love with a -man simply at sight of a lock of his hair. Michel cudgeled his brains to -no purpose. He could think of no explanation save this, which was far -from satisfactory to his intense curiosity: perhaps the princess had at -some time been attached to someone whose hair was of precisely the same -shade and texture as Michel's. She wore it in a locket. Observing Mila's -fervent adoration of that relic of her brother, she had ordered a locket -just like her own, and had given it to her. -</p> -<p> -But how impossible are the probabilities of life to a mind of eighteen -years! Michel thought it much more probable that he had been loved -unseen; and when he was overcome by sleep, the two lockets were still in -his half-open hand. -</p> -<p> -When he awoke about noon, he found only one of them; the other had -probably fallen among the bedclothes. He pulled his bed to pieces and -turned it upside down; passed an hour searching in all the cracks of his -floor, and all the folds of his clothes, which lay on a chair by his -pillow. One of the two talismans had disappeared. -</p> -<p> -"This is a trick of Signorina Mila," he thought. His door closed with a -latch only, and the girl was singing over her work in the room -adjoining. -</p> -<p> -"Ah! you are up at last!" she said with a pout, when he appeared in her -presence. "That is very lucky! Now will you kindly return my locket?" -</p> -<p> -"I should say, my dear, that you came and took it while I was asleep." -</p> -<p> -"Why, you have it in your hand!" she cried, seizing his hand -unexpectedly. "Come, open your fingers, or I will prick them with my -needle." -</p> -<p> -"I will do it," he said, "but this locket isn't yours. You have already -taken the one that belongs to you." -</p> -<p> -"Really!" said Mila, snatching the trinket from her brother's hand, for -he made little resistance, but watched her closely; "this is not mine? -Do you think I can be mistaken?" -</p> -<p> -"In that case you have the other, Mila." -</p> -<p> -"What other? Have you one also? I don't know anything about that; but -this is mine. Here is the princess's crest. It is my property; it is my -souvenir. Take back your hair. If we are at odds, I am willing you -should; but this locket shall never leave me again." -</p> -<p> -And she replaced it in her bosom, by no means resolved to take out the -hair, for which she cared more than she chose to admit in her childish -wrath. -</p> -<p> -Michel returned to his room. The other locket must be there. There was -so much candor and confidence in Mila's expression and her words! But he -found nothing, and so he determined to search his sister's room as soon -as she had gone out. Meanwhile, he tried to make peace with her. He -coaxed and cajoled her, and, vowing that all that had happened was only -a jest on his part, reproached her with being proud and sensitive. -</p> -<p> -Mila consented to make peace and to kiss her brother; but she continued -to be somewhat downcast, and her lovely cheeks were tinged with a less -delicate flush than usual. -</p> -<p> -"You chose a bad time to tease me," she said. "There are days when one -does not feel in the mood to endure raillery, and I thought that you -were teasing me on purpose to make sport of my disappointment." -</p> -<p> -"Your disappointment, Mila!" cried Michel, pressing her to his heart -with a smile. "Have you been disappointed? Because you didn't see the -ball last night, I suppose? Oh! you are a very unfortunate little girl, -and no mistake!" -</p> -<p> -"In the first place, Michel, I am not a little girl. I shall soon be -fifteen, and I am old enough to have disappointments. As for the ball, I -cared very little about it; and now that it's over, I don't think about -it at all." -</p> -<p> -"What is this great sorrow, then? Do you want a new dress?" -</p> -<p> -"No." -</p> -<p> -"Your nightingale isn't dead?" -</p> -<p> -"Don't you hear him singing?" -</p> -<p> -"Perhaps our neighbor Magnani's big tom-cat has eaten up your -turtle-dove?" -</p> -<p> -"I would like to see him try it! I tell you that I don't bother my head -about Signor Magnani or his cat." -</p> -<p> -The tone in which she uttered Magnani's name made Michel prick up his -ears, and, upon glancing at his little sister's face, he saw that she -had her eyes fixed, not upon her work—although her head was -bent—but upon a wooden gallery where Magnani usually worked, -opposite Mila's chamber. At that moment Magnani was walking along his -gallery. He did not look at Mila's window, and Mila did not look at her -work. -</p> -<p> -"Mila, my darling child," said Michel, taking both her hands and kissing -them, "do you see that young man with the absent-minded air?" -</p> -<p> -"Well," Mila replied, as the blood came and went in her cheeks, "what -about him?" -</p> -<p> -"I want to tell you, my child, that if your heart is ever inclined to -love, you must not think of that young man." -</p> -<p> -"What nonsense!" said the girl, shaking her head and trying hard to -laugh. "He is the last man of whom I should ever think, I tell you -that!" -</p> -<p> -"Then you will be exceedingly wise," rejoined Michel, "for Magnani's -heart is not free; he has long been in love with another woman." -</p> -<p> -"That doesn't concern me, and is of no possible interest to me," said -Mila; and, bending over her work, she turned her wheel swiftly. But -Michel was pained to see two great tears fall upon her skein of silk. -</p> -<p> -Michel's heart was very tender. He understood the feeling of shame by -which his young sister was overwhelmed, and which added a fresh pang to -those from which he himself was suffering. He saw the superhuman efforts -that the poor child made to stifle her sobs and overcome her confusion. -He felt that that was not the moment to humiliate her more by insisting -upon an explanation. -</p> -<p> -So he pretended to see nothing; and, thinking that he would reason with -her when she was more self-possessed, he left the room where she was -working. -</p> -<p> -But he was so excited himself that he could not stay in his own room. He -made one last, fruitless search, and, abandoning the hope of finding the -vanished talisman,—hoping that it would appear when he was not -thinking about it, as often happens in the case of lost -articles,—he determined to go and see Magnani and make peace with -him; for they had parted in anger, and Michel, unable to avoid a secret -feeling of pride in the thought that the princess was madly in love with -him, felt that his generous solicitude for his unfortunate rival -redoubled. -</p> -<p> -He crossed the yard and entered Magnani's father's workroom on the -ground floor. But he looked in vain for Antonio in his room. His old -mother told him that he had gone out a moment before; but could not tell -him in what direction he had gone. Michel thereupon strolled into the -country, half thinking of overtaking him, half absorbed by his own -musings. -</p> -<p> -Meanwhile Magnani, impelled by the same feelings of loyalty and regard, -had determined to go and see Michel. His modest dwelling had a second -exit, and the one that he took led less directly, through a dark and -narrow passage at the rear of the other two houses, to the poor, -old-fashioned house which Pier-Angelo occupied with his children. -</p> -<p> -Thus the two young men did not meet. Magnani went upstairs and looked -into a large, bare, dilapidated room, where he saw Pier-Angelo stretched -out on his cot-bed, in a deep sleep which the emotions of love and youth -no longer disturbed. -</p> -<p> -Thereupon Magnani climbed the staircase, or rather the ladder leading to -the attics, and entered Michel's chamber, which adjoined Mila's. -</p> -<p> -Michel's door was open; Magnani went in, and, finding no one there, was -about to go out again, when the cyclamen, which Michel had carefully -placed in an old Venetian glass of curious workmanship, caught his eye. -Unquestionably Magnani was the soul of probity, the incarnation of -scrupulous honor; and yet it is not certain that, if he had dreamed that -that flower had fallen from the princess's bouquet, he would not have -stolen it. But it did not occur to him; he concluded simply that Michel, -like himself, had a passion for the cyclamen. -</p> -<p> -Suddenly Magnani was roused from his contemplation by a sound which -startled him. Somebody was weeping in the adjoining room. He heard sobs, -stifled but heart-rending, behind the partition, not far from the door -between the two rooms. Magnani was well aware that Mila lived on that -floor. He had often nodded to her smilingly from his gallery, when he -saw her, blooming with youth and beauty, at her window. But, as she had -made no impression on his heart, and as he had never spoken to her -except as to a child, he did not consider at that moment the exact -location of her attic, nor indeed did he think of her at all. To be sure -there was nothing masculine in her manner of weeping, but in Michel's -voice there were some tones so youthful and so soft that it might well -be he who was mourning so. Magnani thought only of his young comrade, -and, full of solicitude for him, hastily opened the door and entered -Mila's room. -</p> -<p> -At sight of him the girl uttered a loud shriek and fled to the farthest -corner of her room, hiding her face. -</p> -<p> -"Mila, my dear little neighbor," cried honest Magnani, standing -respectfully near the door, "forgive me, do not be afraid of me; I made -a mistake, I heard someone weeping as if his heart would break, and I -thought it was your brother. I didn't stop to think, but rushed in here, -in my anxiety—but, great heaven, my dear child, why are you weeping -so?" -</p> -<p> -"I am not weeping," replied Mila, stealthily wiping her eyes, and -pretending to look for something in an old chest of drawers against the -wall; "you are entirely mistaken. I thank you, Signor Magnani; but leave -me, you ought not to come into my room like this." -</p> -<p> -"True, true, I know it, I am going away, Mila; and yet I don't dare to -leave you thus, you are too much overcome, I can see. I am afraid you -are sick. Let me go and wake your father, so that he can come and -comfort you." -</p> -<p> -"No, no! do not think of it! I don't want you to wake him!" -</p> -<p> -"But, my dear ——" -</p> -<p> -"No, I tell you, Magnani; you would make me much worse if you should -cause my father that trouble." -</p> -<p> -"But what is the matter, Mila? Your father has not been scolding you, -has he? You never deserve to be scolded! And he is so kind, so gentle, -he loves you so dearly!" -</p> -<p> -"Oh! no, indeed, he never said a word to me except words of love and -kindness. You see that you are dreaming, Magnani; I have no sorrow, I -was not weeping." -</p> -<p> -"Why, I can see from here that your face is swollen and your eyes red, -my dear girl. What heart-breaking grief can one have at your age, -lovely, and beloved by all, as you are?" -</p> -<p> -"Don't laugh at me, I beg you," said Mila, proudly. But she turned pale, -and trying to sit down calmly, fell sobbing upon her chair. -</p> -<p> -Magnani had so little suspicion that he could possibly be anything more -than a friend in her eyes, and his feeling for her was so placid that he -no longer thought of leaving her. He approached her without any other -emotion than affectionate interest, sat down at her feet on a cushion of -plaited straw, and, taking her hand in his, questioned her with an -assumption of something like paternal authority. -</p> -<p> -Poor Mila was so perturbed that she had not the strength to repel him. -It was the first time that he had ever spoken to her so near and with -such evident affection. Oh! how happy she would have been but for the -fatal words that Michel had said to her! But those words were still -ringing in her ears, and Mila was too proud to allow her secret to be -suspected. She made a mighty effort, and answered with a smile that her -trouble was a matter of little importance, and was due simply to a -little quarrel she had had with her brother. -</p> -<p> -"Michel quarrel with you, my poor angel?" said Magnani, watching her -carefully; "is it possible? Oh! no! you are mistaken. Michel loves you -more than all the world, and he is quite right. If you had quarreled, he -would be here, as I am, at your feet, and much more eloquent than I to -comfort you; for he is your brother, and I am only your friend. But, -however that may be, I am going to find him; I will scold him roundly, -if he is in the wrong. But it will be enough for him to see you cast -down and changed as you are, to make him much unhappier than you." -</p> -<p> -"Magnani," said Mila, detaining him as he rose, "I forbid you to go and -find Michel. That would be giving too much importance to a piece of -childish folly. Pay no more attention to it, and do not speak of it to -him or to my father. I assure you that I have already forgotten it, and -that my brother and I will be entirely reconciled to-night." -</p> -<p> -"If it is only a childish quarrel," said Magnani, sitting down beside -her, "why, your susceptibilities are altogether too keen, my dear Mila. -I have sisters too, and when I was not so sensible as I am now, when I -was Michel's age, I used to tease them a little. But they didn't cry; -they paid back my mischief with interest, and I always came out second -best." -</p> -<p> -"That was because they had spirit, and apparently I haven't enough to -defend myself," replied Mila, sadly. -</p> -<p> -"You have a great deal of spirit, Mila, I have noticed that; you are not -Pier-Angelo's daughter and Michel's sister for nothing, and you have a -better education than the other young women of your station. But you -have more heart than spirit, since you can defend yourself only with -your tears!" -</p> -<p> -Magnani's praise comforted and pained the girl at the same time. She was -flattered to find that, while not seeming to pay any heed to her, he had -observed her closely enough to be able to do her justice. But the -tranquil kindliness of his manner told her plainly enough that Michel -had not deceived her. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap20"></a>XX -<br><br> -BEL PASSO AND MAL PASSO -</h4> - -<p> -Suddenly Mila formed a firm resolution; for, as Magnani had truly said, -she was superior to most of the young girls of her class in education, -and Pier-Angelo had cultivated in her mind ideas as noble as his own. -She had, in addition, a tincture of youthful enthusiasm, blended with -the habit of courage and self-sacrifice, which her good taste and -ingenuousness led her to conceal beneath apparent heedlessness. It is -the acme of stoicism to be able to sacrifice oneself with a smile on -one's face, and with no outward indication of suffering. -</p> -<p> -"My dear Magnani," she said, rising with her accustomed serenity of -expression, "I thank you for your friendly interest in me; you have done -me good, and I feel perfectly calm. Let me work now, for I didn't do my -<i>day's work</i> in the night, as you did; I must do my stint and earn my -wages. Go away, so that people may not say that I am lazy, and that I -waste my time chattering with the neighbors." -</p> -<p> -"Good-bye, Mila," replied the young man. "I pray God to restore your -peace of mind to-day, and to make you happy all the days of your life." -</p> -<p> -"Thanks, Magnani," said Mila, offering him her hand. "I rely upon your -friendship from this day." -</p> -<p> -The air of noble resolution with which that girl, so crushed by grief a -moment before, offered him her hand, and the tone in which she -pronounced the word friendship, like an heroic farewell to all her -illusions, were not understood by Magnani; and yet there was in that -gesture and that tone something that moved him deeply, although he could -not guess the cause. Mila was transformed before him in the twinkling of -an eye; she no longer seemed a charming child, she was serious and -beautiful as a woman. -</p> -<p> -He took that little hand in his hard and powerful one, which did not -hesitate to seal the friendly compact by a fraternal grasp, but which -trembled suddenly at the touch of a hand as soft and dainty as a -princess's; for Mila was very careful of her person, and knew how to be -at once industrious and refined in her occupations. -</p> -<p> -Magnani fancied that he held Agatha's hand, which, by a strange caprice -of fortune, he had touched once in his life. He felt a sudden wave of -emotion, and drew Pier-Angelo's daughter to his heart as if to give her -a brotherly kiss. He dared not do it; but she offered her forehead -innocently, saying to herself that it would be the first and the last, -and that she would cherish its memory as the symbol of an everlasting -farewell to all her hopes. -</p> -<p> -Magnani had been living for five years under a self-imposed law of -absolute chastity. It was as if he had taken an oath to imitate Agatha's -exceptionally austere mode of life, and, engrossed by a fixed idea, had -determined to waste away by slow degrees, knowing naught of love or -marriage. He had never kissed a woman, not even his sisters, since he -had carried in his heart that chimera of a hopeless passion. It may be -that he had made a vow to that effect in some moment of painful -agitation. But he forgot that grim vow when he felt young Mila's lovely -dark head resting trustfully against his breast. He gazed at her for an -instant, and those limpid black eyes, in which there was an expression -of grief and courage which he could not understand, cast him into a sort -of delirium of surprise and passion. His lips did not touch Mila's brow; -they turned away trembling from her bright red lips, and rested upon her -soft brown neck, perhaps a second or two longer than was absolutely -necessary to cement a bond of fraternity. -</p> -<p> -Mila turned pale, her eyes closed, and a sorrowful sigh escaped from her -broken heart. Magnani, shocked beyond measure, placed her upon a chair -and fled, overwhelmed with dismay, astonishment, and, perhaps, remorse. -</p> -<p> -Mila, being left alone, was very near fainting; she staggered to the -door and bolted it; then she knelt on the floor beside her bed, hid her -face in her hands, and remained there absorbed by her suffering. But she -had ceased to weep, and grief gave place to an excitement instinct with -strenuous and ardent aspirations. Pier-Angelo's optimism, that faith in -destiny which is a sort of superstition in stout hearts, awoke within -her. She rose, rearranged her hair, looked in her mirror, and said -aloud, as she resumed her work: -</p> -<p> -"I don't know why, nor when, nor how, but he shall love me; I have a -right to desire it, I do desire it, and God will assist me!" -</p> -<p> -When Michel returned, he found her tranquil and lovely, gazing intently -at a copy of the <i>Virgin of the Chair</i>, which he had made for her with -much care, and which she had hung, not in her alcove, but above her -mirror. He congratulated himself that he had allowed her to give way -freely to her first outburst of grief, and that she had recovered her -strength of will in her solitary meditation. He almost reached her side -before she heard him; but she saw his face in the glass as he leaned -over her to kiss her on the neck. -</p> -<p> -"Kiss me there," she said, offering him her cheek, "but never on my -neck!" -</p> -<p> -"Why that prohibition for your brother, little madcap?" -</p> -<p> -"It is a whim of mine," she said. "You are beginning to have a beard and -I don't want you to scratch my skin." -</p> -<p> -"Ah! you flatter me exceedingly," laughed Michel; "that fear does too -much honor to my budding moustache! I had no idea that it could frighten -anybody as yet! But do you care less for the smoothness of your cheek -than of your pretty neck, little Mila? Is that because you have just -been admiring this beautiful Madonna's neck?" -</p> -<p> -"Perhaps so!" she said. "It is very beautiful, really, and I would like -to resemble that face in every feature." -</p> -<p> -"I should judge that you were making the attempt before your mirror. -These are very profane ideas to indulge in before that holy image!" -</p> -<p> -"No, Michel," replied Mila, gravely. "There is nothing profane in my -conception of her beauty. I have never understood it as I have to-day, -and I fancied that no one had ever been able to create so beautiful a -face as Princess Agatha's. But I see now that Raphael went farther. He -gave his Madonna more strength of character, if not more tranquillity. -That divine face is intensely alive; it has a great deal of will; it is -sure of itself. She is the most virtuous, but, also, the most loving of -women. She seems to say: 'Love me because I love you.'" -</p> -<p> -"Well, well, Mila, where did you find that?" cried Michel, looking at -his sister in surprise. "I fancied I was dreaming as I listened to you!" -</p> -<p> -The conversation of the two children was interrupted by the arrival of -their father. He came to suggest to Michel that they should go and -demolish the ball-room. All the workmen who had taken part in building -it had agreed to meet at three o'clock in the afternoon, to rid the -palace of that temporary structure. -</p> -<p> -"I know," said Pier-Angelo, "that the princess is anxious to preserve -your frescoes on canvas, and I want you to help me roll them up and -carry them safely to one of the galleries of the palace." -</p> -<p> -Michel followed his father, but they were no sooner outside the city -than the old man stopped. -</p> -<p> -"My boy," he said, "I am going to the villa alone, for I must talk a -moment with the princess about that infernal abbé, who disguises -himself as a monk to spy upon something or somebody in her house. Do you -walk about two miles to the northwest, following the path that begins -here, and turning neither to right nor left. In an hour you will reach -the Capuchin convent of Bel Passo, where your uncle Fra Angelo told me -that he would wait for you till sunset. He has satisfied himself that -the suspicious monk whom we pointed out to him was no other than Ninfo, -and, without deigning to inform me what he supposes his designs to be, -he told me that he wished to have a serious talk with you. I suspect -that your uncle knows more than we do about the cardinal's condition and -the abbé's plans; but he is a man of sense and foresight. He has -probably made inquiries during the morning, and I shall be very glad to -have his opinion." -</p> -<p> -Michel followed the path, and, after an hour's walk through the most -beautiful country that the mind can conceive, he reached the gate of his -uncle's convent. -</p> -<p> -This convent was situated on a hill above a small village in the -cultivated district, gay with flowers and dotted with country houses, -which lies at the foot of Ætna. The building was sheltered by the great -trunks of venerable trees, and the garden, exposed to the African sun, -commanded a magnificent view bounded by the sea. -</p> -<p> -This romantic spot, strewn with formidable masses of lava, bore two -names which had been given it in turn, and which, in view of the -uncertainty as to which it was more likely to retain, were bestowed upon -it indifferently at the time of which we write. The location being -superb, the soil fertile, and the climate mild and agreeable, it had -been called on general principles <i>Bel Passo</i>. Then had come the -terrible eruptions of Ætna and Monte-Rosso, which had overwhelmed and -ruined it; whereupon it had been christened <i>Mal Passo</i>. Then, as -time passed on, the village and convent were rebuilt, the lava broken -up, cultivation resumed, and they gradually reverted to the original -complimentary name. But these two contrasting designations were still -confused in the memories and the customs of the people. The old men, who -had seen their country in its primitive splendor, said <i>Bel Passo</i>, -as did the children, who had seen it only after it had emerged from -chaos, and had been restored to life, as it were. But the men who had -seen the spectacle of the catastrophe and experienced its disastrous -results in their early years—who had had no other cradle than toil -and terror, and were just beginning to obtain some result from their -labors—called it <i>Mal Passo</i> more frequently than <i>Bel -Passo</i>. -</p> -<p> -For a very long time that gorge had changed its name thus, twice or -thrice in a century, according to circumstances; an example of the -heedless courage of the human race, which builds its nest beside the -broken branch, and continues to love and beautify and sing the praises -of the domain which it has with difficulty reconquered from the tempests -of yesterday. -</p> -<p> -However, this spot afforded equal justification for both of the names -which disputed possession of it. It was an epitome of all the horrors -and all the charms of nature. Where the river of fire had poured its -destructive waves, the ridges of lava, the gray wastes of slag, the -ruins of the former soil, upturned, flooded or baked, recalled the evil -days, when the population was reduced to begging, and wives and mothers -were in mourning; Niobe changed to stone at the sight of her murdered -children. But near at hand old fig-trees, reanimated by the passage of -the flame, had put forth new branches, and strewed with their succulent -fruit the new grass and the worn-out soil, newly steeped in the most -generous juices. -</p> -<p> -Everything that did not lie directly in the path of the molten -lava—everything that was saved by an inequality of the -ground—had benefited by the destruction that had passed so near. -So it is with mankind, and death everywhere makes room for life. Michel -noticed that, in some places, one of two twin trees had disappeared as -if carried away by a cannon-ball, and displayed its charred stump beside -the proud trunk which seemed to tower triumphantly over its ruins. -</p> -<p> -He found his uncle occupied in breaking away the rock to enlarge a bed -planted with flourishing vegetables. The garden had been dug out of -solid lava. The paths were covered with mosaics of enamelled porcelain, -and the beds of vegetables and flowers, cut from the very heart of the -rock, and made of earth brought from elsewhere, resembled gigantic boxes -buried to the edges. To make the resemblance more striking, between the -beds and the porcelain paths they had left the black lava, as it were a -border of box or thyme, and at each corner of the beds it had been -fashioned into a ball, the sacramental ornament of our orange-tree -boxes. -</p> -<p> -It will be seen, therefore, that nothing could be neater or more ugly, -more symmetrical or more depressing, in a word, more monastical than -that garden, an object of pride and affection to the good monks. But the -beauty of the flowers, the splendor of the bunches of grapes which -enveloped heavy pillars of lava, the soft murmur of the fountain, which -sent forth a thousand silvery threads to refresh each plant in its rocky -cell, and above all, the view from that terrace with its southern -exposure, afforded ample compensation for the melancholy effect of such -hard and patient toil. -</p> -<p> -Fra Angelo, armed with an iron sledge hammer, had removed his frock in -order to be more free in his movements. Clad only in a short brown -jacket, he displayed the mighty muscles of his hairy arms in the -sunlight, and at every blow that he dealt the rocky mass, shivering it -into fragments, he gave a sort of savage grunt. But, when he saw the -young artist, he drew himself up and showed a mild and serene -countenance. -</p> -<p> -"You come just in time, young man," he said. "I was thinking about you, -and I have many questions to ask you." -</p> -<p> -"I thought, uncle, that you had, on the contrary, many things to tell -me." -</p> -<p> -"Yes, doubtless I should have, if I knew what sort of man you are; but, -except for the tie of relationship that unites us, you are a stranger to -me; and, whatever your father may say, blinded perhaps by his affection, -I do not know whether you are really a man. What do you think of the -position in which you find yourself?" -</p> -<p> -"To avoid my having to answer your questions by asking others, you would -do well, perhaps, my dear uncle, to put them clearly in the first -instance. When I know what my position is, I shall be able to tell you -what I think of it." -</p> -<p> -"Then you know nothing of the secrets in which you are concerned?" said -the Capuchin, examining Michel with a stern and searching gaze; "you -have not even a suspicion of them? You have never guessed anything? -Nobody has ever told you anything?" -</p> -<p> -"I know that my father was involved in a political conspiracy long ago, -about the time of my birth, I think. But at that time I was quite unable -to decide whether he was in the right or in the wrong. Since then he has -never explained his position to me in that respect." -</p> -<p> -"He lacks confidence in you, then, or you take little interest in his -welfare?" -</p> -<p> -"I have questioned him at times; he has always answered evasively. I -have never drawn therefrom, as you do, uncle, the conclusion that he -distrusted me; that would have seemed impossible to me; but I have -always thought that, having really had a hand in the business, he was -bound by oaths, as is the case in all secret societies. So I should have -thought that I failed in the respect I owe him, if I had questioned him -farther." -</p> -<p> -"That is well said; but does it not conceal a profound indifference -touching the affairs of your native country, and a selfish disregard of -the sacred cause of its liberty?" -</p> -<p> -Michel was a little embarrassed by this question, so concisely put. -</p> -<p> -"Come," continued Fra Angelo, "answer without fear, I am only asking for -the truth." -</p> -<p> -"Very well, I will answer you, uncle," said Michel, meeting the monk's -cold glance, which distressed him in spite of himself, for he would have -liked to have the regard of that man, whose face, voice, and bearing -commanded his respect and sympathy. "I will tell you what I think, since -you wish to know it, and also what I am, at the risk of losing your -good-will. Convince me that the cause of liberty, so far as Italy and -Sicily are concerned, is really the cause of the men who are deprived of -liberty, and you will see that I will devote myself to it, I do not say -with enthusiasm, but with frantic zeal. But alas! hitherto I have always -seen men sacrifice themselves simply to change masters, while the noble -and wealthy classes used them for their own profit, in the name of this -or that idea. That is why, while I am not indifferent to the spectacle -of the misery and oppression of my fellow-countrymen, I have never -chosen to conspire under the auspices and for the benefit of the -patricians, who are so eager in inciting us to conspire." -</p> -<p> -"O mankind! O mankind! <i>everyone for himself</i> will always be your -motto!" cried the Capuchin, springing to his feet as if beside himself -with indignation; then, resuming his seat with a strange and bitter -laugh, he added, looking at Michel with an ironical expression: "Signor -prince, <i>excellenza</i>, you are pleased to make sport of us, I judge!" -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap21"></a>XXI -<br><br> -FRA ANGELO -</h4> - -<p> -The Capuchin's strange outbreak caused Michel the most profound -embarrassment; but, being determined to maintain his independence and -sincerity, he affected a tranquillity which he did not feel. -</p> -<p> -"Why do you call me <i>prince</i> and <i>excellenza</i>, my dear uncle?" he -said, forcing himself to smile; "is it because I spoke like a patrician?" -</p> -<p> -"Precisely; every one for himself, I tell you!" replied Fra Angelo, -resuming his melancholy gravity. "If that is the spirit of the age which -you have been studying at Rome, if that is the new philosophy upon which -the young men in other lands are fed, we have not seen the end of our -misfortunes, and we can continue to tell our beads in silence. Alas! -alas! here is a fine state of affairs! the children of our people will -not stir for fear of saving their former masters with them, and the -patricians will not dare to lift a finger for fear of being devoured by -their former slaves! God save the mark! Meanwhile, the foreign tyranny -laughs and grows fat upon our spoils; our mothers and sisters ask alms -or prostitute themselves; our brothers and our friends die on dung-heaps -or on the gallows! It is a noble spectacle, and I am amazed, -Michelangelo, that you came from Rome, where you had before your eyes -naught but the splendors of the Holy See and the masterpieces of art, to -contemplate our poor Sicily, with her population of beggars, her ruined -nobles, her lazy or brutalized monks! Why did you not take a pleasure -trip to Naples? you would have seen wealthier nobles there and a more -opulent government, made so by the taxes which are causing us to die of -starvation; a more tranquil people, who worry but little over the fate -of their neighbors. 'What do we care for Sicily? it is a conquered -country and its people are not our brothers.'—That is what they say -at Naples. Go to Palermo, where they will tell you that Catania is not to -be pitied and can save itself unassisted, with its silk worms. Go to -Messina, where they will tell you that Messina is no part of Sicily, and -that they have no use for its bad counsels and its evil spirit. Go to -France; the newspapers there say every day that pious, cowardly peoples -like us deserve their fate. Go to Ireland; they will tell you that they -want no help from the heretics of France. Go everywhere, and everywhere -you will find yourself well abreast of the ideas of your time; for -people will say to you everywhere what you just said: 'Everyone for -himself!'" -</p> -<p> -Fra Angelo's words, his tone and his countenance made a deep impression -upon Michel, and he was honest enough to confess it to himself at once. -The artistic chord was struck, and what would have seemed to him in any -other man mere sophistry and declamation, seemed simple and mighty in -the mouth of that monk. -</p> -<p> -"My father," he said with ingenuous candor, "it may be that you are -right to scold me as you do. I have no idea at all; and yet I might -offer, in defence of my scepticism, many arguments which come and go in -my mind as I listen to you. It does not seem to me that I am as wicked -and as contemptible as you think. But with you I am much more eager to -improve myself than to defend myself. Please go on." -</p> -<p> -"Yes, yes, I understand," rejoined Fra Angelo, proudly. "You are a -painter, and you are studying me; that is all. This language seems -strange to you in the mouth of a monk, and you are thinking of nothing -but the picture you will paint of St. John preaching in the wilderness!" -</p> -<p> -"Do not laugh at me, I entreat you, uncle; you do not need to do it to -show me that you have more wit and learning than I. You chose to -question me; I told you my thought honestly. I hate oppression, whether -it appears in the shape of the past or the present. I should not like to -be the mere instrument of another man's passions and to sacrifice my -future as an artist to the reconstruction of the fortunes and honors of -a few great families who are naturally ungrateful and instinctively -despotic. I believe that a revolution in such a country as ours would -have no other result. I feel that I am man enough to take a gun to -defend my father's life and my sister's honor. But, when it comes to -joining some mysterious society, whose members act with their eyes -closed, and see neither the hand that guides them nor the goal toward -which they are proceeding—unless you can prove to me forcibly and -convincingly that it is my duty—I will not do it, though you were to -curse me, my dear uncle, or to make sport of me, which is much worse." -</p> -<p> -"What makes you think that I want you to join anything of that sort?" -said Fra Angelo, with a shrug. "I admire your distrustful nature. I like -to see that your first feeling with regard to your father's brother is -the fear of being tricked by him. I wanted to know you, young man, and I -am very much cast down by what I know of you." -</p> -<p> -"What do you know of me, pray?" cried Michel, testily. "Come, try me in -proper form, and let me know what my crimes are." -</p> -<p> -"Your whole crime consists in not being the man you should be," replied -Fra Angelo; "and that is very unfortunate for us." -</p> -<p> -"I understand no better." -</p> -<p> -"I know that you cannot understand what I am thinking at this moment! -otherwise you would not have spoken so before me." -</p> -<p> -"In heaven's name, explain yourself," said Michel, unable to endure -these attacks any longer. "It seems to me that we are fighting a duel in -the darkness. I cannot parry your blows, and I apparently strike you -when I am trying to defend myself. With what do you reproach me, or what -do you ask of me? If I am a man of my time and of my class, is it my -fault? I have just stepped foot for the first time on this island -devoted to the worship of the past. I am not an atheist, but I am not -pious. I do not believe in the superiority of certain classes, nor in -the necessary inferiority of my own. I do not feel that I am the born -servant of the old patricians, the old prejudices, and the old -institutions of my native land. I place myself on a level with the -haughtiest and most venerated heads, in order to pass judgment on them, -so that I may know whether I should bend my head before true merit, or -protect myself against unwarranted prestige. That is the whole of it, -uncle, I give you my word. Now you know me. I admire what is noble, -great and sincere before God. My heart is susceptible of affection and -my mind prostrates itself before virtue. I love art, and I am ambitious -of renown, I agree; but I love serious art and seek pure renown. I will -not sacrifice any one of my duties to them; but I will not accept false -duties, and I will spurn false principles. Am I a miserable wretch for -that? and must I, in order to have the honor of being a true Sicilian, -become a monk in your convent, or a brigand on the mountain?" -</p> -<p> -Michel's spirited outburst did not displease the Capuchin. He listened -to it with interest, and his face softened. But the young man's last -words produced the effect of an electric shock upon him. He leaped up -from his bench, and seizing Michel's arm with that herculean strength of -which he had given him a specimen in the morning, exclaimed: "What is -that metaphor? What are you talking about?" -</p> -<p> -But, observing Michel's air of stupefaction at this new outbreak, he -began to laugh: "Well, even if you do know it—even if your father has -told you—what does it matter? Other people know it, and I am none the -worse off. Well, my child, you have unconsciously used a very powerful -illustration; it was what one might call the marrow of the truth. All -men are not made to be fed upon it; there are milder and more digestible -truths which suffice for the majority. But to those who desire to be -absolutely logical in their opinions and their acts, what seems to you a -paradox is the merest commonplace. You look at me in amazement? I tell -you that you did, without knowing it, speak like an oracle when you said -that, in order to have the honor of being a true Sicilian, one must be a -monk in my convent, or a brigand on the mountain. I should prefer that -you would be one or the other, rather than a cosmopolitan artist as you -aspire to be. Listen to a story, and try to understand it: -</p> -<p> -"There was once in Sicily a poor devil, but blessed with a vivid -imagination and a certain amount of courage, who, being unable to endure -the disasters by which his country was overwhelmed, took his gun one -fine morning and went into the mountains, resolved to lose his own life, -or to destroy one by one as many of the enemy as possible, pending the -day when he could fall upon them in a body with the outlaws whom he -joined. They formed a large and select band. Their leader was a noble, -the last descendant of one of the greatest families of the -country—Prince Cæsar de Castro-Reale. Remember that name. You may -never have heard it, but a time will come when it will have more -interest for you. -</p> -<p> -"In the woods and mountains the prince had taken the name of -<i>Destatore</i>,<a id="FNanchor_1_1" href="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> by which name he was known, loved, and feared for ten -years, nobody suspecting that he was the young and brilliant nobleman -who had run through his fortune at Palermo, and led a most dissipated -life with his friends and mistresses. -</p> -<p> -"Before speaking of the poor devil who turned brigand from patriotic -despair, I must say a few words of the noble patrician who had become a -leader of brigands for the same reason. It will assist you to a -knowledge of your country and your countrymen. <i>Il Destatore</i> was a -man of thirty years, handsome, well-educated, lovable, brave and -generous,—he had all the characteristics of a hero; but he was -persecuted and crushed by the Neapolitan government, who detested him -particularly because of the influence he exerted over the common people. -He resolved to put an end to the life he was leading, to consume the -balance of his fortune, which was reduced every day by taxes to the -profit of the enemy; in short, to drown his sorrow in drunkenness, and -to kill himself or brutalize himself in debauchery. -</p> -<p> -"He succeeded only in ruining himself. His robust health withstood all -sorts of excess, his sorrow survived his dissipation, and when he found -that, instead of falling asleep, he became intensely excited in his -cups, that a frantic rage took possession of him, and that it would be -necessary for him to run a sword through his body, or, as he said, to -eat à la Neapolitan, he disappeared and became a bandit. He was -supposed to have been drowned, and his inheritance never caused his -nephews any great embarrassment or afforded much profit to the -authorities. -</p> -<p> -"Thereafter he was a tiger, a devouring lion, who spread terror through -the country districts and avenged his fatherland in the bloodiest way. -The poor devil whom I mentioned at the outset of my story became -passionately attached to him, and served him with fanatical loyalty. He -never stopped to think whether he was <i>worshipping the past</i>, or -bending the knee to a man who deemed himself superior to him, but who -was only his equal before God; whether he was fighting and risking his -life for the benefit of a <i>master</i>, who might prove to be -<i>ungrateful and despotic</i>; whether, after destroying the foreign -tyranny, as they hoped to do, they would fall again under the yoke of -the <i>old prejudices</i>, the <i>old abuses</i>, the nobles, and the -monks. No, all those shades of distrust were too subtle for such a -straightforward and simple mind as his. To beg would have seemed a -degradation to him in those days; and as for work! why he had never done -anything in his life but work, and work zealously, for he loved work, -and was not afraid of it. But I do not know whether you have noticed as -yet that in Sicily every man does not work who wants to. Although we -have the richest and most fertile soil in the world, taxation has -destroyed commerce, agriculture, all the industries and all the arts. -The man of whom I speak had sought the hardest, roughest, varieties of -labor in the salt marshes, in the mines, even in the very bowels of the -earth, which, on the surface, was devastated and neglected. Work was -lacking everywhere, and all the enterprises in which he had been -employed being abandoned, one after another, he was reduced to begging -alms of his fellows who were as badly off as he, or to stealing. He -preferred to <i>take</i> openly. -</p> -<p> -"But in the <i>Destatore's</i> band they took with discernment and justice. -They maltreated and held to ransom none but enemies of the country or -traitors. They had a secret understanding with every well-meaning or -unfortunate man. They hoped to form a party large enough to attempt to -seize one of the three principal cities, Palermo, Catania, or Messina. -</p> -<p> -"But Palermo, before placing confidence in us, demanded that we should -be led by a noble; and as the <i>Destatore</i> was supposed to be an -adventurer of low birth, he was rejected. If he had told his true name, -it would have been worse. He was execrated throughout the country for -his previous conduct, and that was a difficulty for which he could blame -no one but himself. -</p> -<p> -"At Messina our proposals were rejected, on the plea that the Neapolitan -government had done great things for the commerce of that city, and -that, all things considered, peace at any price, with flourishing trade -and the hope of growing rich, was preferable to a patriotic war with -confusion and anarchy. At Catania they told us that they could not do -anything without the concurrence of Messina, and would not do anything -without that of Palermo. In fact they definitely refused to assist us in -any way; and, after putting us off from year to year, they informed us -that the trade of brigand had gone out of fashion, and that it was very -bad taste to persist in it when we could sell out to the government and -make our fortunes in its service. They forgot to add, it is true, that, -in order to resume his place in society, it would have been necessary -for the Prince of Castro-Reale to become the enemy of his country and -accept some military or civil post, the duties of which consisted in -dispersing insurrections with cannon, and in pursuing, denouncing, and -hanging his old comrades. -</p> -<p> -"The <i>Destatore</i>, seeing that his mission was at an end, and that, in -order to live by his gun, he must thenceforth prey upon his -fellow-countrymen, fell into a state of profound depression. Wandering -among the wildest ravines on the island, and making bold forays, -sometimes to the very gates of the cities, he lived for a time upon -foreign travellers who were rash enough to visit the island. That trade -was not worthy of him, for those foreigners were, for the most part, -entirely free from blame for our ills, and so utterly incapable of -defending themselves, that it was a pity to rob them. The brave fellows -who followed him were disgusted with such wretched business, and every -day brought its quota of desertions. To be sure those scrupulous fellows -did worse when they left him; for some, being frowned upon everywhere, -relapsed into idleness and poverty; others were forced to join the -forces of the government, who considered them good soldiers, and made -gendarmes and spies of them. -</p> -<p> -"Thus there remained with the <i>Destatore</i> only the more determined -malefactors, who robbed and murdered, without scrutiny, everyone who -came in their way. A single one was still honest, and refused to take -part in this highwayman's business. It was the poor devil whose story I -am telling you. Nor on the other hand would he leave his unfortunate -captain; he loved him, and his heart was broken at the idea of -abandoning him to traitors who would murder him some fine morning when -they had no one to rob, or would force him into useless crimes for their -own gratification. -</p> -<p> -"The <i>Destatore</i> did full justice to his poor friend's devotion. He -had appointed him his lieutenant—an absurd title in a band which now -consisted of only a handful of knaves. He still allowed him to tell him -the truth sometimes, and to give him good advice; but as a general rule -he drove him away angrily, for the leader's temper became more and more -soured from day to day, and the savage virtues which he had acquired in -the days of enthusiasm and gallant exploits gave way to the vices of the -past, children of despair, ill-omened guests which resumed possession of -his storm-beaten soul. -</p> -<p> -"Drunkenness and lust took possession of him, as in the early days of -idleness and discouragement. He fell below himself, and one day—an -accursed day, which will never be blotted from my memory—he -committed a terrible crime, a dastardly, detestable crime! If I had -witnessed it, I would have killed him on the spot. But the -<i>Destatore's</i> last remaining friend did not learn of it until the -next day; and on that next day he left him, after bitterly upbraiding -him for his infamy. -</p> -<p> -"Thereupon that poor devil, having no one to love, and being unable to -do anything for his unhappy country, began to wonder what was going to -become of him. His heart, still ardent and youthful, turned toward -religion, and being of the opinion that an honest monk, thoroughly -imbued with the ideas of the Bible, might do a good work, preach virtue -to the powerful, give instruction and assistance to the poor and the -ignorant, he assumed the frock of a Capuchin, received the lesser -orders, and retired to this convent. He accepted the duty of mendicancy -imposed upon his order, as an expiation of his sins, and found it -preferable to pillage, in that he applied thereafter to the rich in -behalf of the poor, without violence and without cunning. It is inferior -in a certain sense; it is less sure and less expeditious. But, all -things considered, a man who wants to do the greatest possible amount of -good should be a brigand in his youth; and he who simply wants to do the -least possible harm should be a monk in his old age: you said so -yourself. -</p> -<p> -"There is my story; do you understand it?" -</p> -<p> -"Perfectly, uncle; it is very interesting indeed, and, in my eyes, the -principal hero of the romance is not the Prince of Castro-Reale, but the -monk who is speaking to me." -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="nind"><a id="Footnote_1_1" href="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a>He who slumbers not.</p></div> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap22"></a>XXII -<br><br> -THE FIRST STEP ON THE MOUNTAIN -</h4> - -<p> -Fra Angelo and his nephew were silent for a few moments. The monk was -absorbed by the bitter yet glorious memories of his younger days. Michel -gazed at him with delight; and, no longer wondering at the martial air -and muscular strength concealed beneath the frock, mused with the -admiration of an artist upon the strange poesy of that life of devotion -to a single idea. If there was something abnormal and, to a certain -extent, entertaining in the history of the Capuchin, who still boasted -of his life as a bandit and seriously regretted it, there was something -truly noble in the way in which the ex-brigand preserved his individual -dignity, compromised as it had been in such extraordinary adventures. -Dagger or crucifix in hand, slaying traitors in the forest or begging -for the poor at the gates of palaces, he was always the same, proud, -ingenuous, unbending in his ideas, seeking to do good by the most -vigorous methods, detesting cowardly acts with such intensity that he -was still quite capable of punishing them with his own hand, utterly -unable to understand the selfish motives by which the world is governed, -or to believe that any man would not be ready at any moment to attempt -the impossible rather than palter with the expedients suggested by cold -circumspection. -</p> -<p> -"Why do you admire the secondary hero of my story?" he said to his -nephew when he emerged from his reverie. "Self-sacrifice and patriotism -must amount to something in your eyes, for that man had no other motive, -and, in the present state of society, would have been only a poor -fool—perhaps a lunatic." -</p> -<p> -"Yes, uncle, sincere devotion and the sacrifice of one's whole -individuality to an idea are noble things, and if I had known you in -those days—if I had been a man grown—I should probably have -followed you into the mountains. I might have been less devotedly -attached than you were to the Prince of Castro-Reale, but I trust I -should have had the same illusions and the same love for the cause of my -country." -</p> -<p> -"Really, young man?" said Fra Angelo, fixing his penetrating eyes upon -Michel's face. -</p> -<p> -"Really, uncle," the young man replied, proudly raising his head, and -sustaining that searching glance with the assurance of conviction. -</p> -<p> -"And is it too late now to attempt anything, my poor boy?" said Fra -Angelo, with a sigh. "Has the time passed when we can believe in the -triumph of the truth, and is the new society, which I have had no better -chance to study in my cloister than in my bandit's cave, determined to -allow itself to be crushed forever?" -</p> -<p> -"I hope not, uncle. If I thought so, it seems to me that I should no -longer have any blood in my veins, inspiration in my brain, or love in -my bosom, and that I should no longer be capable of being an artist. But -still we must recognize the fact that society is not what it must have -been in this island at the beginning of your enterprise. Even if it has -taken some steps toward intellectual discoveries, it is certain that the -impulses of the heart have lost their energy." -</p> -<p> -"And you call that progress?" exclaimed the Capuchin, sorrowfully. -</p> -<p> -"No, far from it," Michel replied; "but how can those who are born -during this state of society breathe any other air than that in which -they were born, or entertain other ideas than those which have been -forced into them? Must we not yield to the evidence, and bend our necks -to the yoke of reality? Did not you yourself, my excellent uncle, when -you passed from the exciting life of a free adventurer to the inflexible -discipline of the cloister, did not you find that society was not what -you thought, and that it was no longer possible to effect anything by -violence?" -</p> -<p> -"Alas! that is true!" replied the monk. "During the ten years that I -passed in the mountains, I did not know what revolutions were taking -place in the manners of civilized mankind. When the <i>Destatore</i> had -sent me into the cities with his agents, to try to make satisfactory terms -with the nobles whom he had known as loyal patriots, and with the rich -and well-educated middle class citizens whom he had known as ardent -liberals, I was forced to the conviction that those people were no -longer the same, that they had brought up their children with other -ideas, that they no longer cared to risk their fortunes and their lives -in those hazardous undertakings in which only faith and enthusiasm can -perform miracles. Yes, yes, the world had progressed—backward, -according to my idea. People no longer talked of anything but making -money, of fighting monopolies, of establishing competition, of founding -new industries. They all deemed themselves rich already, they were in -such haste to become so, and the government could purchase whomsoever it -pleased, by the promise of the most trifling privilege. Yes, they had -but to promise, to hold out hopes of fortune, and the most ardent -patriots pounced upon those hopes, saying: 'industry will give us back -our liberty!' -</p> -<p> -"The common people also believed it, and every employer could bring his -employés to the feet of the new masters, the poor creatures imagining -that their arms were about to bring them in millions. It was a sort of -fever, a universal mania. I sought men, I found only machines. I talked -of the fatherland and honor, they replied by discussing sulphur and silk -weaving. I went away disheartened, but uncertain, not daring to censure -too severely what I had seen, and saying to myself that it was not for -me, ignorant and uncivilized as I was, to pass judgment upon the new -resources which these mysterious discoveries were going to create for my -country. -</p> -<p> -"But since then, great heaven! I have seen the result of these fine -promises so far as the common people are concerned! I have seen some -shrewd fellows restore their own fortunes by ruining their friends and -paying court to the ruling powers. I have seen many families of petty -tradespeople attain great wealth; but I have seen honorable men -persecuted more and more; I have seen, especially, and I see now every -day, more beggars and more poor wretches without bread, without homes, -without education, without a future. And I ask myself what good you have -done with your new ideas, your progress, your theories of equality! You -despise the past, you spit upon the old abuses, and you have killed the -future by creating new abuses more monstrous than the old. The best -among you, the young men, are on the alert for the revolutionary -doctrines of nations more advanced than ours. You consider yourselves -highly enlightened, very strong, when you can say: 'No more nobles, no -more priests, no more convents, no more of anything connected with the -past!' And you do not see that you no longer have the poesy, the faith -and the pride which gave life to the past. -</p> -<p> -"Let us see!" added the Capuchin, folding his arms over his heaving -breast, and eyeing Michel with a half fatherly, half bullying, air: "you -are a very young man, a child! You consider yourself very clever, -because you know what people say and think in society at this moment. -You look at this stupid monk, who passes the day breaking rock in order -to set out an extra row of peppers or tomatoes on the lava next year, -and you say: -</p> -<p> -"'That's a strange way for a man to pass his life! And yet this man was -neither lazy nor dull. He might have been a lawyer or a tradesman, and -have earned money like other men. He might have married, had children, -and taught them to hold their own in society. He preferred to bury -himself alive in a convent and beg! It is because he is under the -influence of the past, and has always been the dupe of the old chimeras -and old superstitions of his country!' -</p> -<p> -"Very good! now, do you know what I think as I look at you? I say to -myself: 'Here is a young man who has come much in contact with the minds -of other men, who has very quickly thrown off the fetters of his class, -who does not choose to share the sufferings of his native country, the -labors of his kinsmen. He will succeed; he is a handsome youth, keener -and more logical in his ideas and his words at eighteen than I was at -thirty. He knows a multitude of things which had seemed useless to me -and which I did not even suspect, until the leisure of the cloister -enabled me to educate myself a little. He stands there, smiling at my -enthusiasm, and, mounted on his sound sense, his premature experience, -his knowledge of men, and his profound study of the science of personal -interest, looks upon me in his mind as a teacher looks upon his pupil. -He is the mature man; and I, an old brigand and old monk, am the -fearless youth, the blind and artless child! Strange transposition! He -represents the new generation, all for gold and glory; and I the dust of -ruins, the silence of the tomb!' -</p> -<p> -"Very good! but let the tocsin sound, let the volcano rumble, let the -people roar, let that black point which we see in the roadstead, and -which is the ship of State, bristle with guns to destroy the city at the -first breath of aspiration toward liberty; let the brigands come down -from the mountains, let the flames soar aloft to the clouds; and in that -last convulsion of the dying fatherland, the young artist will take his -brushes, he will go and take his seat upon a hill, out of all danger, -and he will paint a picture, saying to himself: 'What an unfortunate -people, and what a magnificent spectacle! I must hasten to put it on -canvas! in an instant this people will have ceased to exist, its last -hour is striking!' -</p> -<p> -"Whereas the old monk will take his gun, which is not yet rusty; he will -turn his sleeves back to the shoulder, and without stopping to ask -himself what will be the result of it all, he will rush into the -scrimmage and will fight for his countrymen until his crushed and -trampled body no longer resembles a human being. And I would rather die -so, boy, than survive, as you will do, the destruction of my race!" -</p> -<p> -"My father! my father! do not believe it," cried Michel, conquered and -carried off his feet by the Capuchin's exaltation. "I am not a coward! -and if my Sicilian blood flowed sluggishly on foreign soil, it is -quickened by the fiery breath which your breast exhales. Do not crush me -beneath that terrible malediction! Take me in your arms and set me on -fire with your flames. With you I feel really alive, and this new life -intoxicates and enraptures me!" -</p> -<p> -"Good! here is an honest impulse at last!" said the monk, embracing him. -"I like this better than the fine theories concerning art which you have -persuaded your father to respect blindly." -</p> -<p> -"Forgive me, uncle," rejoined Michel, with a smile, "I do not surrender -on that point. I will maintain with my last breath the dignity and -importance of art. You said just now that in the midst of civil war I -would coolly go and sit down in a corner, to paint episodes of the -conflict instead of fighting. I would fight, I beg you to believe, and I -would fight hard if the object were to drive out the enemy. I would -gladly lay down my life; glory would come to me more quickly so than I -shall attain it by studying painting, and I love glory: in that respect -I fear that I am incorrigible. But if I were in truth doomed to survive -the downfall of my people after fighting in vain for their triumph, it -is probable that I should collect my painful reminiscences and paint -many pictures, to reproduce and perpetuate the memory of those bloody -catastrophes. The more excited and desperate I was, the better and more -striking my work would be. It would speak to men's hearts; it would -arouse admiration for our heroism, pity for our misfortunes, and I -assure you that it might prove that I had served our cause better with -my brush than I had done with my gun." -</p> -<p> -"Very good! very good!" rejoined the monk, with an ingenuous outburst of -sympathy. "That is well said and well thought. We have a brother here -who is a sculptor, and I consider that his work is no less useful to the -cause of religion than mine is to the convent when I break up this lava. -But that brother has faith, and he can carve the features of the Blessed -Madonna without lowering the idea that we form of her. You will paint -fine pictures, Michel; but only on the condition that you have taken -part in the battle with heart and hand, and have been a zealous actor, -not an unmoved spectator of events." -</p> -<p> -"Now we are altogether in accord, my father; there is no genius in art -without conviction and without emotion: but as there is nothing more for -us to dispute about, if you are content with me at last, pray tell me -what is going on, and wherein you expect my assistance. Are we on the -eve of some important undertaking?" -</p> -<p> -Fra Angelo was so excited that he had lost all notion of his -surroundings. Suddenly his gleaming eyes filled with tears, his heaving -breast fell with a deep sigh, his hands, which quivered as if they were -feeling for pistols in his belt, fell back upon the cord around his -waist and touched his chaplet. -</p> -<p> -"Alas! no," he said, glancing about with startled eyes, like a man -suddenly aroused from sleep, "we are on the eve of nothing, and it may -be that I shall die in my cell without ever renewing the priming of my -gun. It was all a dream which you shared with me for an instant; but do -not regret it, young man, it was a noble dream, and that instant, which -did me inestimable good, may have made you a better man. The result of -it has been that I know you and esteem you. Now we are friends for life -and death. Let us not despair of anything. Look at Ætna! it is peaceful -and radiant; it is hardly smoking, and does not make a sound. To-morrow, -perhaps, it may belch forth its burning lava again and utterly destroy -the ground on which we stand. It is the emblem and the image of the -Sicilian people, and the hour for <i>Vespers</i> may strike in the midst of -dancing or of slumber. But the sun is sinking, and I have no more time -to waste before telling you what I have to tell that concerns you. It is -a matter entirely personal to you, of which I desired to speak with you, -and it is a very serious matter. You cannot extricate yourself from it -without my assistance and that of certain other persons who, like -myself, are prepared to risk their liberty, their honor, and their -lives, to save you." -</p> -<p> -"Is it possible, uncle?" cried Michel; "can I not take the risk alone? -must you be involved in the mysterious perils which surround me without -my knowledge? Is it not my father alone who is in danger, and cannot I -save him?" -</p> -<p> -"Your father is in danger, too, but in less danger than you. Do not -question me, but believe me. As I have told you, I detest unnecessary -violence, but I shrink from nothing which is right and necessary. I must -assist you, and I will assist you. You and your father can do nothing -without the Capuchin of Ætna and the remnant of the <i>Destatore's</i> -band. We are all ready. You will forgive me if, before assuming such grave -risks, I desired to ascertain how far you were deserving of the devotion -of which you are to reap the benefits. If you had proved to be an -egotist simply, I would have assisted you to escape; but, if you are -worthy of the name of Sicilian, we will assist you to triumph over -destiny." -</p> -<p> -"And you will not explain ——" -</p> -<p> -"I will explain nothing that it is not necessary for you to know. I am -not allowed to do otherwise; and you must remember one thing, namely, -that by seeking to find out more than I am able to tell you, you will -simply increase our risks and add to the complications of your own -situation. Come, do me the favor to rely upon your uncle, and to -overcome the vain and restless curiosity of childhood. Try to become a -man between now and this evening, for this evening it may be necessary -to act." -</p> -<p> -"I will ask but one thing of you, uncle, and that is to provide for my -father's safety and my sister's before thinking of me." -</p> -<p> -"That is all done, my boy; at the first signal your father will seek -refuge in the mountains, and your sister with the lady who gave a ball -last night. Ah! the bell is ringing for service. I am going to ask the -superior's permission to go out with my nephew on some family business. -Wait for me at the door of our chapel." -</p> -<p> -"And suppose he should refuse you?" -</p> -<p> -"He would compel me to disobey him, which would grieve me deeply, I -confess, not because of the penance to-morrow, but because I do not like -to fail in my duty. The old soldier looks upon his orders as the supreme -law." -</p> -<p> -Five minutes later, Fra Angelo joined Michel again at the door of the -church. -</p> -<p> -"Granted," he said, "but I am commanded, in order to pay my debt to God, -to perform an act of faith and say a short prayer before the altar of -the Virgin. As I am excused from attending the evening services, the -least I can do is to ask pardon from my greatest superior. Come and pray -with me, young man; it can do you no harm, and will give you strength." -</p> -<p> -Michel followed his uncle to the foot of the altar. The setting sun made -the stained-glass windows glow as with fire, and strewed with sapphires -and rubies the flagged floor on which the Capuchin knelt. Michel knelt -beside him, and watched him as he prayed with simple fervor. A -flame-colored pane, whose reflection fell upon his shaven head, made it -appear luminous and, as it were, aflame. The young painter was seized -with respect and enthusiastic admiration as he looked upon that noble, -strong and ingenuous face, which humbled itself in all sincerity in -prayer; and he, too, moved to the depths of his heart, prayed for his -country, his family and himself, with a simple faith and candor which he -had not known since his childhood. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap23"></a>XXIII -<br><br> -THE DESTATORE -</h4> - -<p> -"May I venture to ask you where we are going, uncle?" queried Michel, -when they had taken a dark and narrow path which led among the old -olive-trees on the mountain. -</p> -<p> -"Certainly," replied Fra Angelo; "we are going to call upon the last -real brigand in Sicily." -</p> -<p> -"There are some left then?" -</p> -<p> -"A few, although sadly deteriorated. They are still ready to fight for -their country, and they keep alive the last spark of the sacred flame. -However, I ought to tell you that they are a sort of cross between the -gallant fellows of long ago, who scrupulously refrained from taking a -hair from the head of a good patriot, and the cutthroats of the present -day, who kill and rob everyone they meet. These men discriminate when -they can; but, as their business has become very bad, and as the police -are more to be feared than in my time, they cannot always choose; so -that I do not hold them up as beyond reproach; but, such as they are, -they still have certain virtues which we should seek in vain elsewhere: -fidelity to their oaths, remembrance of past services, the revolutionary -spirit, love of country; in a word, all that remains of the chivalrous -spirit of our old bands still casts a faint gleam in the hearts of a few -poor fellows, who live by themselves, a half-sedentary, half-wandering -life. That is to say, they are settled in villages or in the open -country; they have their families there, and in some cases are supposed -to be peaceable husbandmen, submissive to the law, and having no quarrel -with the <i>campiere</i>.<a id="FNanchor_2_1" href="FNanchor_2_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_1" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> If any of them are suspected, or, perhaps, -involved in some trouble, they are more wary, do not go to see their -wives or children except at night, or else remove their homes to some -almost inaccessible location. But the man whom we are going to see is -still free from any direct persecution. He lives openly in a neighboring -village, and can go where he pleases. You will not regret having made -his acquaintance, and I give you leave to study his character, for he is -a very interesting and remarkable person." -</p> -<p> -"Should I be too inquisitive if I asked you to tell me a little -something about him beforehand?" -</p> -<p> -"Certainly you ought to be told about him, and I will tell you. But it -is a momentous secret to place in your keeping, Michel, and it makes it -necessary for me to tell you another story. Do you know that I am going -to place in your hands the fate of a man whom the police are hunting -with all the energy and skill of which they are capable, and whose -features and true name they have never succeeded in finding out in the -six or seven years that have passed since he took up the <i>Destatore's</i> -work? Tell me, my boy, have you never heard of the <i>Piccinino</i> and his -band since you have been in Sicily?" -</p> -<p> -"It seems to me that I have. Yes, yes, uncle, my sister Mila has some -fantastic stories about this Piccinino, who is the principal subject of -conversation among the young silk-weavers of Catania. He is a -redoubtable brigand, they say, who kidnaps women and kills men at the -very gates of the city. I have never believed these fables." -</p> -<p> -"There is some truth at the bottom of all the popular legends," rejoined -the monk. "The Piccinino exists and plies his trade. There are two men in -him—the man whom the <i>campieri</i> pursue in vain, and the man whom -no one dreams of suspecting. The man who leads hazardous expeditions and -assembles, at a mysterious signal, all the <i>nottoloni</i><a id="FNanchor_3_1" href="FNanchor_3_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_1" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> of any -consequence, scattered all over the island, to employ them in more or -less worthy enterprises; and the man who lives not far from this place, -in a pretty country house, free from all molestation, and with the -reputation of an intelligent, peaceably disposed man, opposed to bloody -strife and advanced opinions. Well, within an hour you will be in that -man's presence, you will know his true name, you will know his features, -and you will share with only two other persons outside of the band which -he commands the responsibility of his secret. You see that I treat you -as a man, my child, but one cannot realize the danger of another person -until he has himself been exposed to it. Henceforth you will have to pay -with your life for the slightest indiscretion, and, in addition, to -commit something more than a dastardly act, a horrible crime, of which -you will soon know the extent." -</p> -<p> -"All these warnings are unnecessary, uncle; it is enough for me to know -that it would be an abuse of confidence." -</p> -<p> -"I believe it, and yet I am not so sure of your prudence that I do not -feel that I must tell you everything which may increase it. Your father, -Princess Agatha, perhaps your sister, and myself beyond any -question—all of us—will have sacrificed life and honor for -you, if you are false to the oath I require of you. Swear, therefore, -upon all that you hold most sacred—upon the Holy -Gospel—never to betray, even on the scaffold, the true name of the -Piccinino." -</p> -<p> -"I swear it, uncle. Are you satisfied?" -</p> -<p> -"Yes." -</p> -<p> -"And will the Piccinino have the same confidence in my oath that you -have?" -</p> -<p> -"Yes, although confidence is not a failing of his. But when I told him -of your visit, I gave him guarantees which could not fail to satisfy -him." -</p> -<p> -"Very good! Now tell me what the relations are to be between this man -and myself?" -</p> -<p> -"Patience, boy! I promised you another story, and here it is: -</p> -<p> -"The <i>Destatore</i> having become addicted to wine in his last -years——" -</p> -<p> -"So the <i>Destatore</i> is dead, is he, uncle? You did not tell me of his -death." -</p> -<p> -"I will tell you about it, although it is a very painful subject to me! -I told you of an abominable crime that he committed. He surprised and -carried off a girl,—a mere child,—who was walking with a -nurse in this neighborhood, and set her free again in two hours. But, -alas! two hours too late! No one witnessed his infamous act, but that -very evening he boasted of it to me and sneered at my indignation. I was -beside myself with horror and wrath, so that I cursed him, consigned him -to the furies, and abandoned him to enter this convent, where I soon -took the vows. I loved that man. I had been for many years under his -influence; and when I saw him ruining and degrading himself, I feared -that I might be led to follow his example. I determined to place between -him and myself an insurmountable barrier. I became a monk; that was one -of the most potent reasons for my decision. -</p> -<p> -"My desertion affected him more deeply than I expected. He came secretly -to Bel Passo and resorted to every expedient—prayers and -threats—to induce me to return. He was eloquent, because he had an -ardent and sincere heart, despite his vagaries. I was inexorable, -however, and I did my utmost to convert him. I am not eloquent; I was -even less so at that time; but I felt so intensely all that I said to -him—and faith had taken so strong a hold upon my heart—that -my arguments made a profound impression upon him. I induced him to -repair his crime as far as possible by marrying the innocent victim of -his violence. I went to her by night and obtained her consent to look -once more upon the detested brigand's features. They were married that -night, secretly but legally, in the chapel before the altar where you -prayed just now with me. And when he saw that beautiful, pale-cheeked, -terrified maiden, the Prince of Castro-Reale was seized with remorse, -and began to love her who was destined always to abhor him! He entreated -her to fly with him, and, irritated by her refusal, thought of abducting -her. But I had given that child my word, and she displayed a strength of -character and a pride far beyond her years. She told him that she would -never see him again; and clinging to my gown and our prior's—a -worthy man who carried all his secrets with him to the grave—she -cried: 'You swore that you would not leave me alone with that man a -minute, and would take me back to the door of my home as soon as the -marriage ceremony was finished. Do not desert me, or I will beat out my -brains on the steps of your church!' -</p> -<p> -"She would have done as she said, the noble-hearted girl! But I had -sworn! I took her home in safety, and she never saw the <i>Destatore</i> -again. -</p> -<p> -"As for him, his suffering was beyond words. Resistance inflamed his -passion, and, for the first time in his life, he who had seduced and -abandoned so many women learned what love is. But he also learned what -remorse is, and from that day his mind was diseased. I hoped that he -would be truly converted. I had no thought of making a monk of him like -myself, but I wanted him to take up his old work, to renounce useless -crimes, debauchery and folly. I tried to convince him that, if he should -become once more the avenger of his country and the soul of our hope of -deliverance, his young wife would forgive him and consent to share his -painful but glorious destiny. Doubtless I myself would have thrown my -frock to the dogs and followed him. -</p> -<p> -"But, alas! it would be too easy for men to mend their ways if crime and -vice would relax their grasp upon their victims as readily as we desire. -The <i>Destatore</i> was no longer himself; he had become too thoroughly -the man of the past. The remorse that I aroused in him disturbed his -reason without appeasing his savage instincts. Sometimes a raving -madman, sometimes timid and superstitious, he would pray one day in our -humble chapel, bathed in tears; and the next day would return to his -vomit—as the Scripture says. He tried to kill all his companions; -he tried to kill me. He committed many more excesses, and one -morning—it is hard for me to carry my story through to the end, -Michel, it gives me so much pain!—one morning he was found dead at -the foot of a cross, not far from our convent. He had blown out his -brains with a pistol!" -</p> -<p> -"That was a horrible fate," said Michel, "and I do not know whether it -is the tone of your voice, uncle, or the ghastly memories of the place -where we are, but my emotions at this moment are most painful. It may be -that I heard my father tell the story in my childhood, and that the -memory of the terror it caused me then is revived by your words." -</p> -<p> -"I do not believe that your father ever mentioned it to you," said the -Capuchin, after an interval of dismal silence. "I only speak of it -because I must, my child; for the remembrance is more painful to me than -to anybody on earth, and the place where we now are is by no means -calculated to arouse cheerful thoughts in my mind. See, yonder is the -cross whose base was drenched with his blood, and there I found him -lying, sadly disfigured. It was I who dug his grave with my own hands -under yonder rock in the bottom of the ravine. It was I who said the -prayers which anybody else would have refused to say for him. -</p> -<p> -"Poor Castro-Reale, poor captain, poor fellow!" continued the Capuchin, -baring his head and extending his arm in the direction of a great black -rock which lay on the brink of the stream about fifty feet below the -road. "May God, who is inexhaustible mercy and infinite kindness, -forgive the errors of your life, as I forgive the sorrow you caused me! -I no longer remember aught save your years of valor; your noble deeds, -your lofty sentiments, and the ardent aspirations which we shared. God -will not be more severe than a poor fellow like me, will he, Michel?" -</p> -<p> -"I do not believe in the everlasting resentment of the supreme and -perfect Being who governs the world," replied the young man. "But let us -go on, uncle; I am cold here, and I prefer to confess the strange -weakness that I feel rather than remain an instant longer at the foot of -this cross. I am afraid!" -</p> -<p> -"I had rather see you tremble than laugh in this spot!" replied the -monk. "Come, give me your hand, and let us go on." -</p> -<p> -They walked for some time in silence; then Fra Angelo, as if he wished -to divert Michel's thoughts, continued thus: "After the death of the -<i>Destatore</i>, many people, women especially,—for he had -seduced more than one—hurried to his hiding-place, hoping to -obtain possession of what money he might have left there for the -children whose father he was, or was supposed to be; but on the very -morning of his suicide he had taken the booty remaining from his last -expeditions and carried it to that one of his mistresses whom he loved -best, or, to speak more accurately, whom he hated least; for, although -he had many flames, he inspired even more, and all those women, forming -a sort of ambulatory harem, annoyed and irritated him beyond measure. -They all wanted him to marry them, for they did not know that he was -married. Melina, of Nicolosi, alone never burdened him with her -reproaches or her demands. She had loved him sincerely; she had -abandoned herself to him without resistance and without ulterior -motives; she had given him a son whom he preferred to the twelve or -fifteen bastards who were reared under his name among the mountains. -Most of those bastards are still living, and boast, rightly or wrongly, -that they belong to him. All are brigands to a greater or less extent. -But the one whom the <i>Destatore</i> never denied, who resembles him in -every feature, although his is a much reduced and blurred impression of -the father's masculine and energetic beauty; the one who has grown to -manhood with the design of succeeding to his work, with protection and -resources to which the others can lay no claim, that one is the son of -Melina, the young man whom we shall see very soon; he is the leader of -the brigands to whom I have referred, some of whom are, as a matter of -fact, his brothers; finally, he is the man whom you are to know under -his true name, Carmelo Tomabene, who is also known as <i>The -Piccinino</i>." -</p> -<p> -"And the girl whom Castro-Reale abducted, whom you married to -him—will you not tell me her name, uncle?" -</p> -<p> -"Her name and her story are a secret which only three persons know -to-day, she, myself, and one other. Stop there, Michel; no more -questions on that subject. Let us return to the Piccinino, son of the -Prince of Castro-Reale and of the peasant girl of Nicolosi. -</p> -<p> -"This intrigue of the <i>Destatore</i> was several years prior to his crime -and his marriage. The treasure he left was not very considerable; but, -as everything is relative, it was a fortune to Melina. She brought up -her son as if she intended that he should rise above his position; in -the bottom of her heart she longed to make a priest of him, and for -several years I was his tutor and his guide. But he was barely fifteen -years old when, having lost his mother, he left our convent and led a -wandering life until he attained his majority. He had always cherished -the idea of hunting up his father's former companions, and organizing a -new band with their aid; but, from respect for his mother's wishes, for -I ought to say that he really loved her, he had worked to acquire an -education as if he had, in fact, intended to devote himself to the -priestly profession. When he had recovered his liberty, he made use of -it without informing me of his purpose. He had always supposed that I -would blame him. Later, he was compelled to entrust his secret to me and -seek my advice. -</p> -<p> -"I was not sorry, I confess, to be rid of the guardianship of that young -wolf, for he was the most untamable creature that I ever met. As -fearless as his father, and even more intelligent, he is by instinct so -cautious and cunning, and elusive, that I was uncertain at times whether -I was dealing with the vilest of hypocrites or with the shrewdest -diplomatist who ever tangled up the affairs of empires. He is a strange -mixture of perfidy and honor, of magnanimity and vindictiveness. He has -a portion of his father's virtues and good qualities. His vices and -failings are of a different sort. Like his father, he is loyal in -friendship, and his oath is sacred; but while his father, even when -carried away by fierce passions, was always a true believer, and indeed -devout in the depths of his heart, the son, if I am not mistaken, and if -he has not changed, is the most placid and coolest atheist that ever -lived. If he has passions, he gratifies them so secretly that they -cannot be discovered. I know of but one, and that I have made no attempt -to overcome,—it is hatred of the foreigner and love of country. That -love is so intense that he carries it even to love of locality. Far from -being a spendthrift like his father, he is economical and orderly, and -owns a pretty little estate at Nicolosi, with a garden and some land, -where he lives almost always alone, to all appearance, when he is not on -some secret expedition in the mountains. But he arranges his absences -with so much caution, and receives his friends with so much mystery, -that no one ever knows whether he is away from the house, or in his -garden, smoking and reading. In order to preserve this skilfully managed -freedom of action, he makes a practice of not replying or showing -himself when anyone knocks at his door. So that, when he is ten leagues -away, no one can say that he is not kept within the walls of his -fortress by a fit of unsociability. -</p> -<p> -"He has retained the costume, and, so far as appears, the habits of a -wealthy peasant, and, although he is very well educated and very -eloquent on occasion, although he is fitted for any career, and capable -of distinguishing himself in many, he has such aversion for society and -the laws by which it is governed among us, that he prefers to remain a -bandit. To be simply a <i>villano</i><a id="FNanchor_4_1" href="FNanchor_4_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_1" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> in easy circumstances would not -satisfy him. He is energetic and ambitious, he has a genius for the -ruses of warfare, and a passion for adventures. Although it is a part of -his plan to conceal his shrewdness and his learning, those qualities -reveal themselves in spite of him, and he has great influence in his -village. He is looked upon there as an original character, but they -think highly of his advice, and consult him on every subject. He has -made it his duty to oblige everybody, because it is his policy to have -no enemies. He explains his frequent absences and the numerous visits he -receives as being connected with a small business in grain, which -requires journeys into the interior and somewhat extensive connections. -He carefully conceals his patriotism, but he investigates and knows all -about other people's, and at the first real uprising, he would have but -to wave his hand to raise the whole population of the mountain, and the -mountain would march with him." -</p> -<p> -"I can understand that this man is a hero in your eyes, uncle, while you -have difficulty in esteeming one whose qualities are so faintly outlined -as mine." -</p> -<p> -"I esteem the quality of words, not their number," replied the Capuchin. -"You have said two or three words which satisfy me, and as for my hero, -as you call him, he is so far from being lavish with them that I have -had to judge him by deeds rather than by speech. I, myself, rarely speak -of matters upon which I feel very strongly, and if you find me prolix -to-day, it is because I am obliged to tell you in two hours what I have -had no chance to tell you in the eighteen years that you have been in -this world, a stranger to me. However, reserve is not a defect in my -eyes. I loved Castro-Reale as I shall never love anybody else; and we -passed whole days together, by ourselves, without speaking a word. He -was suspicious, as every true Sicilian should be, and so long as he -distrusted himself and others, he had a noble heart and a noble spirit." -</p> -<p> -"The young man we are going to see must be very deeply attached to you, -uncle, since you are sure of finding him prepared to receive me?" -</p> -<p> -"If he loves anyone on earth, I am that one, although I scolded and -worried him well when he was my pupil. However, I am not perfectly -certain that he will grant what I have to ask him in your behalf. He -will have to overcome some repugnance; but I hope for the best." -</p> -<p> -"Doubtless he knows all that you will not allow me to know myself of my -affairs and my destiny?" -</p> -<p> -"He? he knows nothing whatsoever of them, and he shall know nothing -before you do. The little that you are both to know for the present, I -will tell you both. After that, it may be that the Piccinino will guess -more than he should. His penetration is very keen; but whatever he may -guess, he will never tell you; and he will never ask you what he wants -to find out; my mind is at rest so far as that is concerned. Now, -silence; we are coming out of the woods into a cultivated and settled -part of the mountain. We must be seen by as few people as possible on -our way to the place where our man awaits us." -</p> -<p> -They walked silently and cautiously along hedges and clumps of trees, -keeping in the shadow and avoiding trodden paths; and in the gathering -dusk they soon reached the Piccinino's abode. -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="nind"><a id="Footnote_2_1" href="Footnote_2_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_1"><span class="label">[2]</span></a>The gendarmes or police of the island.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="nind"><a id="Footnote_3_1" href="Footnote_3_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_1"><span class="label">[3]</span></a>People who attend to their business by night.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="nind"><a id="Footnote_4_1" href="Footnote_4_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_1"><span class="label">[4]</span></a>That is to say, a <i>villain</i> or serf.</p></div> - - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap24"></a>XXIV -<br><br> -IL PICCININO -</h4> - -<p> -On that side of the mountain which Fra Angelo and Michel had been -constantly ascending for two hours, the large, thickly populated village -of Nicolosi is the last civilized point at which the traveller who -wishes to visit the top of Ætna stops for breath before entering the -grand and imposing region of forests. This second belt is called -<i>Silvosa</i> or <i>Nemorosa</i>, and the cold is intense there. The -vegetation then becomes depressingly wild and more sparse, until it finally -disappears altogether under lichens and heaps of gravel, beyond which -all is snow, sulphur, and smoke. -</p> -<p> -Nicolosi and the magnificent landscape surrounding it were already -enveloped in the evening mist when Michel tried to form some idea of the -place where he was. The imposing mass of Ætna was of the same uniform -shade, and he could barely distinguish, a mile above him, the frowning -peak of <i>Monte-Rosso</i>, that subaltern volcano, one of the twenty or -thirty sons of Ætna, extinct or recently opened furnaces, which rear -their heads like a battery of artillery at its foot. It was Monte-Rosso -that opened its black maw, less than two centuries ago, to vomit forth -that death-dealing lava with which the bottom of the bay of Catania is -still furrowed. To-day the peasants raise grapes and olives on débris -which seems to be burning still. -</p> -<p> -The Piccinino's house stood by itself on the mountain, about half a mile -from the village, from which it was separated by a steep ravine; it was -on the uppermost edge of a fertile tract, where the atmosphere was soft -and balmy. A few hundred feet higher it began to be cold, and the -terrors of the desert were foreshadowed by the absence of tilled land, -and by ridges of lava so numerous and so broad that the mountain seemed -inaccessible in that direction. Michel observed that the situation was -particularly favorable to the purposes of a man who was half citizen, -half outlaw. At home, he could enjoy all the comforts of life; on -leaving his home, he at once escaped from the presence of his fellow-men -and the requirements of the law. -</p> -<p> -The hill, the slope of which was very abrupt on one side, but gentle and -fertile on the other, was covered to its very summit with luxuriant -vegetation, whose mysterious exuberance was sedulously fostered by an -industrious and intelligent hand. Carmelo Tomabene's garden was renowned -for its beauty and the great abundance of its fruits and flowers. But -its entrance was jealously guarded, and it was enclosed on all sides by -high verdure-covered palisades. The house, which was of considerable -size and well built, although without apparent striving for effect, -stood upon the site of a small abandoned fort. Some fragments of thick -walls, and the base of a square tower, which had been utilized to -strengthen and enlarge the new building, which bore the marks of -extensive repairs, gave to the modest structure an air of solidity, and -of semi-rustic, semi-seignoral importance. However, it was simply the -dwelling of a well-to-do farmer, although one felt that a man of refined -habits and tastes might find life enjoyable therein. -</p> -<p> -Fra Angelo approached the gate, and pulled a bell-cord, which, starting -among the honeysuckles in which the gate was embowered, followed a long -vine-clad arbor and was connected with a bell inside the house; but the -sound of the bell was so deadened that it could not be heard outside. -The cord was not visible amid the foliage, and one needed to be -previously cognizant of its existence to make use of it. The monk pulled -the cord three times, at carefully measured intervals; then five times, -then twice, then three times again; after which he folded his arms for -five minutes, when he repeated the signals in the same order and with -the same care. One ring more or less and the mysterious proprietor might -have allowed them to wait all night without admitting them. -</p> -<p> -At last the garden gate was opened. A small man, wrapped in a cloak, -approached, took Fra Angelo by the hand, whispered to him for some -moments, then turned to Michel, bade him enter, and walked before them, -after closing the gate. They walked through the long arbor which formed -a cross extending the whole length and width of the garden, and entered -the house through a sort of rustic porch formed of large pillars covered -with vine and jasmine. Their host then ushered them into a large room, -neatly and simply furnished, where everything indicated regularity and -sobriety on the part of the owner. There he invited them to sit, and, -stretching himself out on an enormous couch covered with red silk, -coolly lighted his cigar; then, without any demonstration of -friendliness toward the monk, he waited for him to speak. He showed no -impatience, no curiosity. He gave his whole attention to removing his -brown cloak lined with pink, carefully folding it, and rearranging his -silk sash, as if he desired to be perfectly comfortable while listening -to what they had to say to him. -</p> -<p> -But what was Michel's surprise when he finally recognized in the young -<i>villano</i> of Nicolosi the stranger who had caused a momentary -sensation at the princess's ball, and with whom he had exchanged a few -far from friendly words on the stoop of the palace! -</p> -<p> -He was disturbed by the thought that that incident was unlikely to -dispose in his favor the man at whose hands he was about to ask a -service. But the Piccinino did not seem to recognize him, and Michel -concluded that it would be as well not to remind him of that unpleasant -incident. -</p> -<p> -He had plenty of leisure to examine his features and to seek therein -some indication of his character. But it was impossible for him to -detect any trace of emotion, of determination, of any human feeling, on -that impassive and expressionless face. It was not even impertinent, -although his attitude and his silence might seem to denote a purpose to -display contempt. -</p> -<p> -The Piccinino was a young man of about twenty-five years. His short -stature and slender figure justified the sobriquet which had been given -him, and to which he submitted with more coquetry than vexation.<a id="FNanchor_5_1" href="FNanchor_5_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_1" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> It -is impossible to imagine a more slender and delicate, and, at the same -time, more perfect figure, than that young man's. Admirably -proportioned, and modelled like an antique bronze, he made up for his -lack of muscular strength by extreme suppleness. He was reputed to be -without a compeer in all bodily exercises, although he was dependent -solely upon his address, his coolness, his agility, and the unerring -accuracy of his glance. No one could tire him at walking, or overtake -him at running. He climbed precipices with the self-possession of a -chamois; he was as good a shot with the rifle as with the pistol or the -sling; and in all sports of that sort he was so sure of winning all the -prizes that he had ceased to take the trouble to compete. He was an -excellent horseman and a fearless swimmer; in fact, there was no method -of locomotion or of fighting in which he was not certain to display a -marked superiority to anyone who ventured to try conclusions with him. -Being fully alive to the advantages of physical strength in a -mountainous country, and with the life of an adventurer before him, he -had striven in early years to acquire what nature seemed to have denied -him in that regard. He had exercised and developed his muscles with -incredible energy and persistence, and had succeeded in making his -fragile frame the trusty slave and obedient instrument of his will. -</p> -<p> -And yet, seeing him reclining thus upon his couch, one might have taken -him for a sickly or indolent woman. Michel did not know that, after -travelling twenty leagues on foot during the day, he systematically -rested for a certain number of hours, and that he had watched and -studied himself so closely in every respect that he knew exactly how -many moments he must pass in a horizontal position in order to escape -the annoyance of a lame back and legs. -</p> -<p> -His face was of a peculiar type of beauty: it was the Siculo-Arabian<a id="FNanchor_6_1" href="FNanchor_6_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_1" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> -type in all its purity. Extraordinary sharpness of outline, a somewhat -exaggerated oriental profile, long, languishing, velvety black eyes, a -shrewd and lazy smile, a wholly feminine grace, and an indefinable -gentleness and coldness which it was impossible to explain at the first -glance. -</p> -<p> -The Piccinino was dressed with extreme care and scrupulous neatness. He -wore the picturesque costume of the peasants of the mountain, but it was -made of fine, light materials. His breeches, short and tight-fitting, -were of a soft woollen fabric, with silk stripes, yellow and brown. His -bare leg, white as alabaster, was visible above his scarlet -<i>spadrilles</i>. His shirt was of embroidered linen, trimmed with lace, -and afforded a glimpse of a heavy gold chain, intertwined with hair, upon -his breast. His sash was of green silk stitched with silver. He was -arrayed from head to foot in smuggled garments, or something worse; for -if you had examined the marks on his linen, you might have convinced -yourself that it came from the last valise he had robbed. -</p> -<p> -While Michel was contemplating with admiration, mingled with some inward -irony, the ease with which that well-favored youth rolled a cigarette of -Algerian tobacco in his fingers, slender and tapering as a Bedouin's, -Fra Angelo, who seemed neither surprised nor annoyed by his reception, -made a circuit of the room, bolted the door, and, having inquired if -they were quite alone in the house, to which query the Piccinino replied -in the affirmative with a nod, he began thus: -</p> -<p> -"I thank you, my son, for not compelling me to wait for this -appointment. I have come to ask a favor at your hands: are you able and -willing to devote a few days to it?" -</p> -<p> -"A few days?" repeated the Piccinino, in such a soft voice that Michel -was fain to glance anew at the muscles of steel in his legs in order to -be sure that it was not a woman who spoke; but the tone of the voice -signified too clearly to be misunderstood: "You are jesting!" -</p> -<p> -"I said a few days," rejoined the monk, calmly. "You will have to go -down the mountain, follow this young man, my nephew, to Catania, and -stay by him until you have succeeded in relieving him from an enemy who -is tormenting him." -</p> -<p> -The Piccinino turned slowly toward Michel, and stared at him as if he -had not previously seen him; then, taking from his belt a richly-mounted -stiletto, he presented it to him with an almost imperceptible smile of -irony and contempt, as if to say: "You are old enough and strong enough -to defend yourself." -</p> -<p> -Michel, annoyed at being placed in such a position, was about to make a -sharp retort, when Fra Angelo cut him short, placing his iron hand on -his shoulder. -</p> -<p> -"Be quiet, my boy," he said; "you do not know what I am talking about, -and there is no occasion for you to speak. My friend," he continued, -addressing the bandit, "if my nephew were not a man and a Sicilian, I -should not introduce him to you. I am going to tell you what we expect -of you, unless you tell me beforehand that you cannot or will not help -us." -</p> -<p> -"Padre Angelo," replied the bandit, taking the monk's hand, and putting -it to his lips with a caressing gesture and an affectionate glance that -changed the character of his face entirely, "whatever you may ask, I am -always willing to do for you. But no man can do all that he is willing -to do. So I must know what it is." -</p> -<p> -"A man annoys us." -</p> -<p> -"I understand." -</p> -<p> -"We do not wish to kill him." -</p> -<p> -"You are unwise." -</p> -<p> -"By killing him we ruin ourselves; by putting him out of the way we are -saved." -</p> -<p> -"He is to be kidnapped then?" -</p> -<p> -"Yes, but we do not know how to go about it." -</p> -<p> -"What! <i>you</i> do not know, Padre Angelo?" said the Piccinino with a -smile. -</p> -<p> -"I should have known in the old days," replied the Capuchin. "I had -friends and places of shelter. Now, I am a monk." -</p> -<p> -"You are foolish," rejoined the bandit with undisturbed tranquillity. -"So, I am to kidnap a man, am I? Is he very stout, very heavy?" -</p> -<p> -"He is very light," replied the monk, who apparently understood that -metaphor, "and no one will give you a ducat for his skin." -</p> -<p> -"In that case, good-evening, father; I can't take him alone and put him -in my pocket like a handkerchief. I must have men, and they are not to -be had for nothing, as in your day." -</p> -<p> -"You don't understand me; you may fix the compensation of your men -yourself, and they shall be paid." -</p> -<p> -"Do you make yourself responsible for that, father?" -</p> -<p> -"I do." -</p> -<p> -"You alone?" -</p> -<p> -"I alone. And, so far as you are concerned, if the affair had not been a -magnificent one, I should not have selected you." -</p> -<p> -"Well, we will see about it next week," rejoined the bandit, in order to -obtain more ample information as to the profits of the affair. -</p> -<p> -"In that case, we will say nothing more about it," said the monk, hurt -by his distrust; "we must go forward at once or not at all." -</p> -<p> -"At once? What about a chance to collect my men, persuade them, and give -them their instructions?" -</p> -<p> -"You can do it to-morrow morning, and to-morrow night they can be at -their posts." -</p> -<p> -"I see that you are in no great hurry, or you would have told me to -start to-night. If you can wait until to-morrow, you can wait a -fortnight." -</p> -<p> -"No; for I intend to take you away with me now, send you to a certain -villa where you will talk with one of the persons interested in the -success of the affair, and give you until to-morrow night to inspect the -locality, become acquainted with all necessary details, set up your -batteries, notify your men, station them, arrange for allies in the -citadel. Bah! it is more time than you need! At your age I wouldn't have -asked your father for half of it." -</p> -<p> -Michel saw that the Capuchin had touched the right chord at last; for -when he was appealed to as the son of the Prince of Castro-Reale, a -title which nobody dared or chose to give him openly, the Piccinino -started, sat up and sprang to his feet as if he were ready to start at -once. But suddenly he put his hand to his leg and fell back on the -couch. -</p> -<p> -"It is impossible," he said, "I am in too much pain." -</p> -<p> -"What is the matter?" asked Fra Angelo. "Are you wounded? Is that spent -ball of last year still troubling you? In the old days we used to march -with bullets in our bodies. Your father did thirty leagues without -thinking of having the one extracted that he received in the thigh at -Leon-Forte; but the young men of to-day need a year to be cured of a -bruise." -</p> -<p> -Michel thought that his uncle had gone a little too far, for the -Piccinino resumed his recumbent attitude with a gesture of profound -indignation, stretched himself on his back, puffed away at his -cigarette, and maliciously left to the good priest the embarrassing -necessity of continuing the conversation. -</p> -<p> -But Fra Angelo was perfectly sure that the idea of a supply of ducats -had appealed to the young bandit's unsentimental mind, and he continued -without the slightest hesitation: -</p> -<p> -"I give you half an hour, my son, if you absolutely need it; half an -hour is a long while for the blood that flows in your veins! then we -will all three start." -</p> -<p> -"Who is this youngster, pray?" said the Piccinino, indicating Michel -with the end of his finger, but without removing his eyes from the wall. -</p> -<p> -"He is my nephew, as I have told you; and Fra Angelo's nephew is to be -relied on. But he doesn't know the country, and has not the necessary -connections for an affair of this sort." -</p> -<p> -"Is the <i>signorino</i> afraid of compromising himself?" -</p> -<p> -"No, signor!" cried Michel, irritated beyond endurance, and unable to -bear longer the bandit's insolence and the restraint which his uncle -imposed upon him. The bandit turned, looked him in the face with his -long eyes, which seemed to turn up a little toward the temples, and -whose mocking expression was sometimes intolerable. But when he saw -Michel's animated face and pale lips, he assumed a more amiable -expression, albeit a little suspicious still, and said, offering him his -hand: -</p> -<p> -"Let us be friends, at all events, until we have no other enemies on our -hands; that is our wisest course." -</p> -<p> -As Michel was seated at some distance, he would have had to rise to take -that hand, extended with a kingly gesture. He smiled and did not move, -at the risk of displeasing his uncle and losing the fruit of their -expedition. -</p> -<p> -But the monk was not sorry to see Michel adopt that attitude with -respect to the bandit. The latter understood that he had no -weak-spirited creature to deal with, and, rising with an effort, he went -to him and took his hand. -</p> -<p> -"You are cruel, my young master," he said, "to refuse to take two steps -toward a man who is completely tired out. You haven't travelled twenty -leagues to-day, and you insist upon my starting off again when I have -had barely two hours' rest!" -</p> -<p> -"At your age," said the unrelenting monk, "I used to walk twenty leagues -a day, and not take time to sup before starting again. Well, have you -decided? Shall we start?" -</p> -<p> -"You care a good deal about it, don't you? Are you personally interested -in the affair?" -</p> -<p> -"I care about it as I do about my everlasting salvation, and the affair -is of the deepest interest to the persons who are dearer to me than -anybody else on earth since your father died. My brother is in danger, -as well as this excellent young man, for whom I demand your sincere and -loyal friendship." -</p> -<p> -"Have I not shaken his hand?" -</p> -<p> -"Therefore I count upon you. When I see that you are ready, I will tell -you something that will be a more enticing bait to you than gold or -glory." -</p> -<p> -"I am ready. Is it an enemy of the country who is to be killed?" -</p> -<p> -"I told you that there is nobody to be killed; you forget that I serve -the God of peace and mercy. But there is some one to be thwarted, some -one whose treacherous plans must be utterly foiled; and that man is a -spy and a traitor." -</p> -<p> -"His name?" -</p> -<p> -"Will you come?" -</p> -<p> -"Am I not on my feet?" -</p> -<p> -"Abbé Ninfo." -</p> -<p> -The Piccinino began to laugh, a silent laugh in which there was -something ghastly. -</p> -<p> -"May I be permitted to thwart him?" he asked. -</p> -<p> -"Morally, yes. But not a drop of blood must be shed!" -</p> -<p> -"Morally! good, I will exert my wits. Courage is not current coin with -that fellow; but as we have made our bargain, or nearly so, it is time -to explain to me the motive of this abduction." -</p> -<p> -"I will explain it to you, and you can reflect upon it as we walk." -</p> -<p> -"Impossible. I cannot do two things at once. I reflect only when my body -is at rest." -</p> -<p> -And he coolly lay down again after relighting his cigarette. -</p> -<p> -Fra Angelo saw clearly enough that he would not allow himself to be led -into action with his eyes closed. -</p> -<p> -"You know," he said, with no indication of impatience, "that Ninfo is -the tool, the spy, the inseparable companion of a certain cardinal?" -</p> -<p> -"Hieronymo de Palmarosa?" -</p> -<p> -"You know also that my older brother, Pier-Angelo, was forced to leave -Sicily eighteen years ago?" -</p> -<p> -"I know it. It was his own fault! My father was still alive. He might -have joined him instead of abandoning his country." -</p> -<p> -"You are mistaken; your father was dead. You were an infant, I was a -monk! There was nothing to be done here." -</p> -<p> -"Go on." -</p> -<p> -"My brother returned, as you know, a year ago; and his son, Michelangelo -here, returned a week ago." -</p> -<p> -"What for?" -</p> -<p> -"To assist his father in his trade and his country on occasion. But -there is already a denunciation hanging over him as well as over his -father. The cardinal still has his memory, and does not forgive. Ninfo -is prepared to act in his name." -</p> -<p> -"What are they waiting for?" -</p> -<p> -"I don't know why the cardinal is waiting so long before dying, but I -can say that Ninfo is waiting for the cardinal's death." -</p> -<p> -"Why?" -</p> -<p> -"In order to seize his papers before there is time to put seals on them -and notify his heiress." -</p> -<p> -"Who is the heiress?" -</p> -<p> -"Princess Agatha de Palmarosa." -</p> -<p> -"Ah! yes," said the bandit, changing his position, "a beautiful woman, -so they say." -</p> -<p> -"That has nothing to do with the affair. But do you understand now why -it is necessary that Abbé Ninfo should disappear during the cardinal's -last moments?" -</p> -<p> -"So that he cannot seize the papers, you said. He may cheat Princess -Agatha out of important documents, abstract a will. It is a serious -matter for her. She is very rich, is she not? Thanks to her father's and -uncle's <i>loyal opinions</i>, the government has left her all her -property, and does not crush her life out with forced contributions." -</p> -<p> -"She is very rich, so that it is a great opportunity for you, for she is -no less generous than rich." -</p> -<p> -"I understand. And then, she is a very beautiful woman!" -</p> -<p> -His insistence upon that consideration sent a shudder of anger through -Michel's veins; the bandit's impertinence seemed intolerable to him; but -Fra Angelo was not disturbed by it. He believed that it was simply a -trick of the Piccinino's, to conceal his rapacity beneath an air of -gallantry. -</p> -<p> -"So I am to act for your brother and nephew incidentally," continued the -bandit, "while in reality I am to rescue the Princess of Palmarosa's -future fortune by laying hands upon the suspicious person of Abbé -Ninfo? Is that it?" -</p> -<p> -"That is it," the monk replied. "The signora has to look out for her -interests, and I for my family. That is why I have advised her to seek -your assistance, and why I consented to convey her request." -</p> -<p> -The Piccinino seemed to reflect a moment; then, suddenly throwing -himself back on his cushions, he exclaimed, in a voice broken by peals -of hearty laughter: -</p> -<p> -"A most excellent story! This is one of the most attractive adventures -in which I have ever taken part!" -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="nind"><a id="Footnote_5_1" href="Footnote_5_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_1"><span class="label">[5]</span></a>The Piccinino is a friendly diminutive which the -mountaineers might well have given him because of his small size. But -the phrase <i>piccin-piccino</i> signifies the act of hiding in order to -prove an <i>alibi</i>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="nind"><a id="Footnote_6_1" href="Footnote_6_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_1"><span class="label">[6]</span></a>That is to say, modified Arabian, as found in Sicily.</p></div> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap25"></a>XXV -<br><br> -THE DESTATORE'S CROSS -</h4> - -<p> -This outburst of merriment, which seemed exceedingly insolent to Michel, -alarmed the monk at last; but, giving him no time to question him, the -Piccinino resumed his seriousness as abruptly as he had laid it aside. -</p> -<p> -"The affair becomes clearer," he said. "One point is still obscure; why -does Ninfo wait for the cardinal to die before denouncing your kinsmen?" -</p> -<p> -"Because he knows that the princess is their protector," the Capuchin -replied; "that she has affection and esteem for the honest old artisan -who has been working in her palace for a year past, and that, to save -them from persecution, she would allow herself to be bled by that -infamous priest. So he says to himself that when the cardinal is dead he -will have that noble lady's fate in his hands absolutely, and that he -will be at liberty to ruin her to his own profit. Doesn't it seem better -to you that the Princess Agatha, who is a good Sicilian, should inherit -the cardinal's property peaceably, and recompense handsomely the -services of a gallant fellow like yourself, than that she should spend -her money to buy the silence of a venomous reptile like Ninfo?" -</p> -<p> -"That is my opinion. But how can you be sure that the will has not been -already abstracted? -</p> -<p> -"We know on good authority that it cannot have been yet." -</p> -<p> -"I must be certain of it! for I don't choose to exert myself, and then -obtain nothing that is of any value." -</p> -<p> -"What does it matter if your pay is the same?" -</p> -<p> -"Ah! Brother Angelo," said the Piccinino, rising on his elbow and -assuming an air of pride which made his listless eyes gleam for an -instant, "for what do you take me? It seems to me that you have -forgotten me in some measure. Am I a <i>bravo</i>, to be paid by the job -or by the day? I have always flattered myself upon being a loyal friend, -a man of honor, a devoted partisan; and lo and behold! apparently -ashamed of the pupil you trained, you treat me like a mercenary, ready -to do anything for a little gold! Disabuse yourself of that idea, in -God's name. I do justice fortuitously, as my father did; and if I -sometimes work on different lines from those he followed—if, -conforming to the spirit of the age we live in, I use my shrewdness more -often than my courage—I am none the less high-spirited and -independent. Being more useful and more in request than a notary, lawyer -or doctor, if I put a high price on my services, or give them -<i>gratis</i>, according to the means of those who seek them, I have no -love for my art and no respect for my own intelligence. I shall never -waste my time and trouble in earning money without guarding the -interests of my clients; and, just as the famous advocate refuses to -undertake a cause which he is sure of losing, just as a captain refuses -to risk his men in an unnecessary action, just as an honest doctor -ceases his visits when it is no longer in his power to relieve his -patient, so do I, my father, refuse your offers, for they do not satisfy -my conscience." -</p> -<p> -"There was no need of your saying all that to me," said Fra Angelo, -still as calm as ever. "I know what sort of man you are, and I should -consider that I degraded myself by seeking the aid of a man whom I did -not esteem." -</p> -<p> -"In that case," replied the Piccinino, with increasing excitement, "why -do you lack confidence in me? Why do you tell me only a part of the -truth?" -</p> -<p> -"You want me to tell you where the cardinal's will is concealed? That I -do not know, nor have I ever thought of asking." -</p> -<p> -"That is impossible." -</p> -<p> -"I swear to you before God, boy, that I have no idea. I know that it is -out of Ninfo's reach for the present, and that he cannot obtain -possession of it while the cardinal lives except with his assent." -</p> -<p> -"And how do you know that he has not already given his assent?" -</p> -<p> -"The Princess Agatha is certain of it. She told me so, and that was -enough for me." -</p> -<p> -"But suppose it isn't enough for me? Suppose I have no confidence in -that woman's shrewdness and foresight? Don't you know that women have no -talent whatever for that sort of thing? Have they any other talent in -the way of divining or pretending than the talent they place at the -service of love?" -</p> -<p> -"You have become very learned on this subject, and I have continued to -be quite ignorant; however, my friend, if you desire to know further -details, ask the princess herself for them, and you will probably be -satisfied. I intended to put you in communication with her to-night." -</p> -<p> -"To-night? in direct communication? Shall I be able to talk with her -alone?" -</p> -<p> -"Surely, if you consider it necessary to the success of our -undertaking." -</p> -<p> -The Piccinino turned abruptly to Michel, and looked at him without -saying a word. -</p> -<p> -The young artist was unable to sustain that gaze without distress. The -adventurer's manner of speaking of Agatha had already irritated him -exceedingly, and to keep himself in countenance he was forced to take a -cigarette which the bandit suddenly offered him with an ironical and -quasi-patronizing air. -</p> -<p> -The Piccinino had risen, and seemed to have fully made up his mind to -go. He began to unbuckle his sash, shaking and stretching his legs like -a hunting-dog preparing for the chase. -</p> -<p> -He passed into another room, and soon returned, dressed with more care -and more simply. He had covered his bare legs with long gaiters of white -wool like those worn by the Italian mountaineers. But all the buttons, -from ankle to knee, were of fine gold. He had put on the twofold -doublet, the outer one of green velvet embroidered with gold; the inner -one shorter, and less full, and of fashionable cut, was of lilac watered -silk, embroidered with silver. A white leather belt encircled his supple -waist; but, instead of the copper buckle, he wore a superb clasp of -antique coraline, richly mounted. No weapons were visible, but there -could be no question that he was provided with most adequate means of -defence. Finally, he had exchanged his showy cloak for the classic cloak -of black woollen cloth, lined with white, and covered his head with the -pointed hood that gives the aspect of monks or ghosts to all the -mysterious figures that one meets on mountain paths. -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> -<a id="figure04"></a> -<br> -<img src="images/figure04.jpg" width="300" alt="300"> -<div class="caption"> -<p><i>THE CONFERENCE WITH THE -PICCININO.</i></p> -<p class="smaller"> -<i>"Come" he said, looking himself over in a large -mirror that hung against the wall; "I can appear -before a woman now without frightening her. What -do you think about it, Michelangelo Lavoratori?</i>"</p> -</div></div> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -"Come," he said, looking himself over in a large mirror that hung -against the wall; "I can appear before a woman now without frightening -her. What do you think about it, Michelangelo Lavoratori?" -</p> -<p> -And, heedless of the impression that that conceited tone might produce -on the young artist, he set about closing his house with the utmost -care. After which, he gayly passed his arm through Michel's, and started -off so swiftly that the others had difficulty in keeping pace with him. -</p> -<p> -When they had passed Nicolosi, Fra Angelo, stopping at a place where two -paths converged, took leave of his young friends, to return to his -monastery, advising them not to lose time escorting him thither. -</p> -<p> -"The leave granted me expires in half an hour," he said. "It may be that -I shall have many other favors to ask within a short time, and I must -not abuse this one. Yonder is the direct road to the Villa Palmarosa -without passing Bel Passo. You do not need me to be introduced to the -princess's presence. She has been notified and she expects you. Here is -a key to the park, Michel, and one to the little garden outside the -Casino. You know the staircase cut in the rock. You must ring twice, -thrice and once at the small gilt gate at the top. Until then avoid -being seen, and make sure that nobody is following you. When the maid -comes to open the gate leading into the private garden, your countersign -will be <i>Blessed Madonna of Bel Passo</i>. Do not lose these keys, -Michel. Within a few days all the locks have been changed secretly, and -the new ones are so complicated, that unless he applies to the locksmith -who furnished them, and who is incorruptible, it will be impossible -henceforth for Ninfo to get into the villa by means of false keys. One -word more, my children. If any unforeseen occurrence should make my -presence urgently necessary during the night, the Piccinino knows my -cell and how to get into the convent." -</p> -<p> -"I should say as much!" said the bandit, when they had left the -Capuchin; "I have indulged in enough escapades at night and returned -just before dawn often enough, to know how to climb the walls of the -convent of Mal Passo. Well, my friend, we no longer have to be careful -of good Brother Angelo's legs; we will run a bit on this slope, and you -will be kind enough not to lag behind, for I am not inclined to follow -beaten paths. It is not my custom, and the way the crow flies is much -safer and more expeditious." -</p> -<p> -As he spoke he darted in among the rocks which descended abruptly to the -bed of the stream, as if he proposed to jump over. It was a very bright -night, as almost all nights are in that beautiful climate. But the moon, -which was just rising and casting huge shadows across the ravines, made -everything uncertain and deceptive to the eye. If Michel had not kept -close to his guide, he would have been completely at a loss what course -to take among masses of lava and steep cliffs which it seemed impossible -to climb. Although the Piccinino was perfectly familiar with the -practicable spots, there were some so dangerous and difficult that -Michel would have refused to take the risk, except for the fear of being -considered cowardly and awkward. But the rivalry of self-love is a spur -which increases a man's faculties tenfold, and, at the risk of killing -himself twenty times over, the young artist followed the bandit without -stumbling and without uttering a word which betrayed his discomfort and -his distrust. -</p> -<p> -We say distrust, because he soon felt sure that all this trouble and -contempt of danger did not shorten their road. It might be a malicious -device on the part of the adventurer to test his strength, his agility, -and his courage, or an attempt to elude him. He was almost convinced of -it, when, after half an hour of this wild chase, and after thrice -crossing the same winding stream, they found themselves in the bottom of -a ravine which Michel thought that he recognized as one that he and the -Capuchin had skirted on the higher land on their way to Nicolosi. He did -not choose to make that suggestion; but he involuntarily paused a moment -to look at the stone cross at the foot of which the <i>Destatore</i> had -blown out his brains, and which stood out against the sky on the edge of -the ravine. Then, looking about, he recognized the block of black lava -which Fra Angelo had pointed out to him from a distance, and which -served as a monument to the bandit chief. It was only a few steps away, -and the Piccinino had walked thither and was standing beside the rock, -with folded arms, in the attitude of a man stopping to take breath. -</p> -<p> -What could have been the Piccinino's idea in making that dangerous and -useless détour in order to pass his father's grave? Could he be -ignorant of the fact that he was buried there? or was he less reluctant -to walk over his remains than to pass the cross which had witnessed his -suicide? Michel dared not question him upon so painful and delicate a -subject; he too, stopped, said nothing, and wondered why he had felt such -a painful thrill when Fra Angelo had told him of the <i>Destatore's</i> -tragic end. He knew himself well enough to be sure that he was neither -cowardly nor superstitious, and at that moment he felt perfectly calm -and superior to all vain terrors. He had no other sensation than a sort -of disgust and indignation at the appearance of the young bandit, who -was leaning against the fatal rock and tranquilly striking his flint to -light a fresh cigarette. -</p> -<p> -"Do you know what this stone is?" demanded the extraordinary young man, -abruptly; "and do you know what happened at the foot of yonder cross -that cuts the moon in two from where we stand?" -</p> -<p> -"I do know," replied Michel, coldly; "but I hoped for your sake that you -did not know." -</p> -<p> -"Ah! you are like Padre Angelo, are you?" rejoined the bandit, -carelessly; "you are surprised that, when I pass this spot I don't drop -on my knees and recite an <i>oremus</i> for my father's soul? In order to -go through with that classic ceremony three beliefs are requisite, none of -which I have: first, that there is a God; second, that man has an -immortal soul; third, that my prayers can serve the slightest purpose in -case my father's soul is undergoing merited punishment. You consider me -impious, I presume? I will bet that you are as much so as I am, and that -if it weren't for the respect of other men and a sort of hypocritical -sense of propriety to which everybody, even the man of intellect, feels -bound to submit, you would say that I am perfectly right!" -</p> -<p> -"I shall never submit to any hypocritical sense of propriety," replied -Michel. "I believe firmly and sincerely in the three things in which you -boast that you do not believe." -</p> -<p> -"Ah! then you are horrified by my atheism?" -</p> -<p> -"No, for I choose to believe that it is involuntary, and I have no right -to be scandalized by an error, when my own mind certainly is not open to -the absolute truth in many other respects. I am not a devotee, that I -should blame and condemn those who don't think as I do. But I will tell -you frankly that there is one sort of atheism which appals and disgusts -me: that is atheism of the heart, and I am very much afraid that yours -does not flow from the inclination of your mind alone." -</p> -<p> -"Good! good! go on!" said the Piccinino, surrounding himself with clouds -of tobacco smoke, with a careless vivacity, perhaps a little forced. -"You think that I have a heart of stone, because I do not shed torrents -of tears to my father's memory over this rock, which I am forced to pass -every day, and on which I have sat a hundred times?" -</p> -<p> -"I know that you lost him when you were so young that you could not -regret his companionship. I know that you must be accustomed, almost -indifferent, to the gloomy memories connected with this spot. I say -everything to myself to excuse your lack of feeling, but it does not -justify in my eyes the species of bravado with which you place before -me, designedly, I believe, the strange spectacle. I never knew your -father, and had no tie of kinship with him, and yet the fact that my -uncle loved him dearly and that a portion of his life was made -illustrious by patriotic and valorous deeds is enough to inspire me with -profound respect beside his grave, and to make me feel distressed and -offended by your attitude at this moment." -</p> -<p> -"Master Michel," said the Piccinino, abruptly throwing away his -cigarette and turning upon him with a threatening gesture, "it seems to -me that you are a very strange young man to dare to rebuke me in this -way, considering our position with respect to each other. You forget, I -fancy, that I know your secrets, that I am at liberty to be your friend -or your enemy; in short, that, at this moment, in this solitude, in this -infernal spot where I may not be so entirely cold-blooded as you think, -your life is in my hands!" -</p> -<p> -"The only thing that I have any reason to fear," rejoined Michel, -calmly, "is that I may play the pedagogue inopportunely. That part is -not suited to my years or my tastes. I will remind you, therefore, that -if you had not incited my comments by a sort of persistence in -questioning me, I should have spared you the infliction. As for your -threats, I will not say that I consider myself able to defend myself as -powerfully and calmly as you would be likely to attack me. I know that, -at a whistle from you, an armed man would start up from behind every -rock in the neighborhood. I trusted to your word, and I did not arm -myself to walk with a man who offered me his hand, saying: 'Let us be -friends.' But if my uncle is mistaken with respect to your loyalty, and -if you have led me into a trap, or—as I should prefer to believe for -your own sake—if the effect of this spot is to disturb your mind and -make you irresponsible, I will none the less tell you what I think, and -I will not stoop to flatter the shortcomings upon which you seem to -plume yourself for my benefit." -</p> -<p> -As he concluded, Michel opened his cloak to show the bandit that he had -not even a knife upon his person, then sat down, facing him, and looking -him in the eye with the utmost coolness. It was the first time he had -ever been in such a position, for which he had certainly had no time to -prepare himself, and from which he was not at all sure of extricating -himself unharmed; for as the moon, emerging from behind the <i>Destatore's -Cross</i>, fell full upon the young bandit's face, Michel was no longer in -doubt as to the ferocity and treachery of his expression. Nevertheless -Pier-Angelo's son, the nephew of the intrepid Capuchin of Bel Passo, -felt that his heart was untouched by fear, and that the first serious -danger which threatened his young life found him proud and undaunted. -</p> -<p> -The Piccinino, seeing how near he was, and that his own face was so -illuminated by the moon, tried for a moment the terrifying effect of his -tiger-like eyes; but having failed to make Michel lower his, and -detecting no sign of poltroonery in his face or attitude, he suddenly -sat down beside him and took his hand. -</p> -<p> -"Upon my word," he said, "although I do my utmost to despise you and -hate you, I cannot succeed; I fancy that you have sufficient penetration -to guess that I would rather kill you than save you, as I have -undertaken to do. You are an embarrassment to me in respect to certain -illusions which you can readily imagine: you balk me in certain hopes -which I cherished, and which I am by no means inclined to renounce. But -I am not bound by my word simply, but by a certain sympathetic feeling -for you which I cannot shake off. I should lie if I said that I love -you, and that it is a pleasant occupation to me to defend your life. But -I esteem you, and that is a good deal. I assure you, you did well to -answer me as you did; for now I can confess to you that this place -sometimes brings on fits of madness; and I have formed terrible -resolutions here on many a momentous occasion. You were not safe with me -a moment ago; and I should not care to hear you utter a certain name -again. Let us not stay here any longer, and do you take this stiletto, -which I offered you once before. A Sicilian ought always to be ready to -use it, and to my mind it is utterly insane to go about unarmed in the -position you are in." -</p> -<p> -"Let us go," said Michel, mechanically taking the proffered dagger. "My -uncle says that time is important, and that they are waiting for us." -</p> -<p> -"Waiting for <i>us</i>?" cried the bandit, leaping to his feet. "Waiting -for you, you mean! Damnation! I wish that yonder cross and this stone -might both sink into the ground! Young man, you may believe that I am an -atheist, and that my heart is hard; but if you think it is of -ice——Here, put your hand to it, and learn that desire and -will have their seat there as well as in the brain!" -</p> -<p> -He seized Michel's hand roughly, and held it to his breast. It was -heaving with palpitations of such violence that one would have said that -it was on the point of bursting. -</p> -<p> -But when they had quitted the ravine, and had left the <i>Destatore's -Cross</i> behind them, the Piccinino began to hum, in a voice as sweet and -pure as the breath of the night, a ballad in the Sicilian dialect, of -which the refrain was: -</p> -<p> -"Wine makes madness, love makes folly; my nectar is the blood of -cowards, my mistress is my rifle." -</p> -<p> -After this outburst of bravado, addressed to himself as well as to the -ears of any Neapolitan police who might happen to be within hearing, the -Piccinino began to talk with Michel in a remarkably self-possessed and -tranquil strain. He discussed fine arts, literature, external politics, -and the news of the day, with as much freedom, courtesy, and refinement -as if they were in a salon or on a public promenade, and as if neither -of them had any momentous affair on hand, any exciting subject to -engross his thoughts. -</p> -<p> -Michel soon realized that the Capuchin had in no wise exaggerated his -pupil's varied knowledge and great talents. In the matter of the dead -languages and classical subjects, Michel was quite unable to hold his -own, for he had had neither the means nor the leisure to go to college -before embracing an artistic career. The Piccinino, seeing that he was -familiar only with translations of the texts which he quoted with an -unfailing accuracy of memory, fell back upon history, modern literature, -Italian poetry, novels, and the stage. Although Michel had read very -extensively for one of his years, and although he had, as he himself put -it, polished and sharpened his mind, hastily, by assimilating everything -that came within his reach, he found that the peasant of Nicolosi, in -the intervals between his hazardous expeditions, in the solitude of his -shady garden, had made even better use of his time than he. It was -wonderful to see a man who could not walk in boots, or breathe in a -cravat, who had never been down to Catania ten times in his life, who -lived in retirement on his mountain, and had never seen the world or -come in contact with cultivated minds, but who had acquired by reading, -reasoning, or the divination of a keen intellect, full knowledge of the -modern world in its most trivial details, as he had acquired in the -cloister knowledge of the ancient world. No subject was unfamiliar to -him; he had learned all by himself several living languages, and he -ostentatiously talked with Michel in pure Tuscan, to show him that no -one at Rome could speak or pronounce it more correctly and melodiously. -</p> -<p> -Michel took so much pleasure in listening and replying to him, that he -forgot for a moment the distrust which so complicated a mind and a -character so difficult to define naturally inspired in him. He made the -rest of the journey almost unconsciously, for they were then following -a smooth and safe road; and when they arrived at the park of Palmarosa, -he started with surprise at the thought of finding himself so soon in -Princess Agatha's presence. -</p> -<p> -Thereupon all that had happened to him during and after the ball passed -through his memory like a series of strange dreams. A delicious emotion -stole over him, and he no longer felt very indignant or very much -horrified at the pretensions of his companion, as he reflected upon -those which he himself cherished. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap26"></a>XXVI -<br><br> -AGATHA -</h4> - -<p> -Michel himself opened the little gate at which the path which they had -followed came to an end, and, having crossed the park diagonally, stood -at the foot of the staircase cut in the steep rock. The reader will not -have forgotten that the Palmarosa palace was built against a precipitous -slope, and formed three distinct buildings, which ascended the mountain -backward, so to speak; that the topmost floor, called the Casino, being -more isolated and cooler than the others, was occupied, according to the -invariable custom of the country, by the most distinguished person in -the family; that is to say, the mistress's apartments were on a level -with the summit of the cliff, which was transformed into a garden, of -small extent but most charming, at a great height, and on the opposite -side from the main façade of the lower floors. There the princess lived -in retirement, as in a luxurious hermitage, having no need to descend -the staircase of her palace, or to be seen by her servants, when she -chose to take a walk in the fresh air. -</p> -<p> -Michel had previously seen this sanctuary, but very hurriedly, as we -know; and when he was sitting there with Magnani during the ball, he was -so excited and talking so earnestly that he had not observed its -arrangement and its surroundings. -</p> -<p> -When he came out upon that terrace with the Piccinino, after scaling the -cliff, he obtained a better idea of its location, and observed that it -was so disposed that it was in fact a little fortress. The staircase cut -in the rock was much better adapted for a means of exit than of -entrance; it was so crowded between two walls of lava, and so steep, -that a woman's hand could easily have hurled back an insolent or -dangerous visitor. Moreover, there was on the last stair, with nothing -in the way of a landing between, a small gilt gate, unusually high and -narrow, hung between two slender marble columns as smooth as the masts -of a ship. On the outer side of both these columns was the sheer -precipice, with nothing to grasp except heavy iron scroll-work in the -style of the seventeenth century, fashioned to represent fantastic -dragons, bristling with spikes in every direction; a decoration that -served a double purpose, and was very difficult to surmount when one had -no purchase and a precipice under his feet. -</p> -<p> -This fortification, if we may so describe it, was not without its -utility in a region where brigands from the mountain carried on their -operations in the valleys and the plain, even to the very gates of the -cities. Michel observed the defences with the satisfaction of a jealous -lover, but the Piccinino glanced at them with an air of contempt, and -even went so far as to say, while they were ascending the staircase, -that it was a sugar-plum citadel, which would be very effective at a -dessert. -</p> -<p> -Michel rang the prescribed number of times, and the gate was immediately -opened. A veiled woman stood there, impatiently awaiting them. In the -darkness, she seized Michel's hand as he entered the garden, and the -young artist, recognizing the Princess Agatha by that gentle pressure, -trembled and lost his head, so that the Piccinino, who did not lose his, -quietly removed the key which Michel had placed in the lock as he rang -the bell. The bandit placed it in his belt after closing the gate, and -when Michel remembered his oversight, it was too late to repair it. They -had all three entered the princess's boudoir, and that was not the -moment to seek a quarrel with a man so entirely free from timidity as -the <i>Destatore's</i> son. -</p> -<p> -Agatha had been warned and as fully advised as possible of the character -and habits of the man with whom it was necessary for her to enter into -relations; she was too much of a Sicilian to have any serious prejudices -against the profession of bandit, and she was determined to make the -greatest pecuniary sacrifices in order to make certain of the -Piccinino's services. Nevertheless, she felt, at sight of him, a painful -emotion which she had difficulty in concealing from him; and when he -kissed her hand, gazing at her with his bold and mocking eyes, she was -conscious of a painful feeling of discomfort, and her face changed -perceptibly, although she was able to maintain an affable and courteous -demeanor. -</p> -<p> -She knew that her first care must be to flatter the adventurer's secret -vanity, by showing him much consideration and calling him <i>captain</i> to -his heart's content. So she did not fail to bestow that title upon him -as she invited him to sit at her right hand, while there was a more -familiar kindliness in her manner of waving Michel to a chair partly -behind her, near the back of her couch. Then, leaning toward him without -looking at him, and resting her elbow close to his shoulder, as if to be -prepared to call his attention by a movement apparently accidental, she -attempted to enter upon the business before them. -</p> -<p> -But the Piccinino, noticing this manœuvre, and apparently considering -that he was too far away from her, left his chair and unceremoniously -seated himself beside her, on the sofa. -</p> -<p> -At that moment the Marquis della Serra, who had probably been waiting in -an adjoining room for the conversation to begin, entered noiselessly, -saluted the bandit with silent courtesy, and sat down near Michel, after -shaking hands with him. Michel felt reassured by the presence of the man -whom he could not help looking upon as his rival. He had already begun -to wonder if he should not soon be tempted to throw the Piccinino out of -the window; and as such an exploit might well have some serious result, -he hoped that the bandit would be so far restrained by the marquis's -grave face and dignified bearing, that he would not dare to overstep the -limits of propriety. -</p> -<p> -The Piccinino knew that he ran no risk of being betrayed by the Marquis -della Serra; indeed it pleased him to see that great nobleman offer him -pledges of the alliance about to be made with him, to which the marquis -must necessarily become a party. -</p> -<p> -"So the Marquis della Serra, too, is my friend and my accomplice?" he -said to Agatha, in a reproachful tone. -</p> -<p> -"Signor Carmelo," replied the marquis, "you doubtless know that I was a -near kinsman of the Prince of Castro-Reale, and that, consequently, I am -your near kinsman. I was very young when the <i>Destatore's</i> true name -was discovered by the police of Catania, and perhaps you are aware that I -rendered the outlaw some important services at that time." -</p> -<p> -"I am familiar with my father's story," replied the young bandit, "and -it is enough for me to know that the Marquis della Serra has transferred -to me the good-will with which he honored him." -</p> -<p> -Gratified in his vanity, resolved not to play a ridiculous rôle, and -equally resolved to make everybody's will bend beneath his own, the -Piccinino desired to carry out his purpose with spirit and good taste. -So he speedily assumed a graceful and dignified attitude on the sofa, -and imparted to his insolent and lustful glance an expression of -benignant and almost respectful interest. -</p> -<p> -The princess broke the ice, and set forth the business in hand -concisely, in almost the same words that Fra Angelo had used to induce -the young wolf to leave his den. The Piccinino listened to her -exposition, and his face did not betray the profound incredulity that -lay behind his apparent attention. -</p> -<p> -But when the princess had finished, he coolly renewed his question as to -the will, and declared that, in case it had already been abstracted, the -kidnapping of Abbé Ninfo would seem to him a very tardy precaution, and -his own intervention a source of useless trouble and <i>expense</i>. -</p> -<p> -Princess Agatha had not been horribly unhappy to no purpose. She had -learned to detect the wiles of concealed passions, and her skill in that -respect was not derived from her simple and straightforward mind, but -acquired at her own expense in her relations with natures directly -contrary to her own. So she very soon concluded that the <i>captain's</i> -scruples were feigned, and that he had some secret motive which it was -most essential to discover. -</p> -<p> -"Signor captain," she said, "if you have formed that opinion of my -position, we must stop here, for I have asked to see you much more for -the purpose of obtaining your advice than of telling you my ideas. -However, be good enough to listen to some details which it was not in -Fra Angelo's power to give you. -</p> -<p> -"My uncle the cardinal has made a will in which he constitutes me his -sole heir; and it was only about ten days ago that, on his way from -Catania to his villa of Ficarazzi, where he now is, he made a détour in -order to pay me a visit which I did not expect. I found my uncle in the -same physical condition as when I saw him a little while before, at -Catania; that is to say, helpless, deaf, and unable to speak distinctly -enough to make himself understood without the assistance of Abbé Ninfo, -who knows or guesses his desires with rare sagacity—unless he -interprets or translates them to suit himself with unmeasured insolence! -However, on that occasion, Abbé Ninfo seemed to me to follow my uncle's -wishes in every respect; for the object of that visit was to show me the -will, and to inform me that the cardinal's affairs were in perfect -order." -</p> -<p> -"Who showed you the will, signora?" said the Piccinino; "for his -eminence cannot move his arm or his hand at all, can he?" -</p> -<p> -"Patience, captain, I will not omit any detail. Doctor Recuperati, the -cardinal's physician, had charge of the will, and I understood clearly -enough, from my uncle's glances and his excitement, that he did not wish -that document to leave his hands. Two or three times Abbé Ninfo came -forward to take it, on the pretext of handing it to me, and my uncle -glared at him with his terrible eyes and roared like a dying lion. The -doctor replaced the will in his portfolio and said to me: 'I beg that -your ladyship will not share his eminence's anxiety. However great the -esteem and confidence inspired by Abbé Ninfo, this paper having been -entrusted to my keeping, no other person than myself—not even the -Pope or the king—shall touch a document of so much importance to -you.' Doctor Recuperati is an honorable, incorruptible man, and as firm -as a rock in emergencies." -</p> -<p> -"True, signora," said the bandit, "but he is stupid, and Abbé Ninfo is -not." -</p> -<p> -"I am well aware that Abbé Ninfo is audacious enough to invent some -sort of a fable and lead the excellent doctor into a commonplace trap. -That is why I have requested you, captain, to remove that hateful -schemer from the scene for a time." -</p> -<p> -"I will do it, if it is not too late; for I should not care to risk my -bones for nothing, and especially to endanger my reputation for talent, -for which I care more than for my life. Once more, signora, do you think -that it is not too late to resort to this expedient?" -</p> -<p> -"If it is too late, captain, it has been so not more than two hours," -replied Agatha, observing him closely; "for, two hours ago, I paid a -visit to my uncle, and the doctor, at a sign from him, showed me the -paper once more, in Abbé Ninfo's presence." -</p> -<p> -"And it was the same?" -</p> -<p> -"Absolutely the same." -</p> -<p> -"There was no codicil in Ninfo's favor?" -</p> -<p> -"Not a word had been changed or added. The priest himself, who blandly -pretends to be interested in my behalf, and whose every sidelong glance -seems to say to me: 'You will have to pay me for my zeal,' insisted on -my re-reading the paper carefully." -</p> -<p> -"And you did it?" -</p> -<p> -"I did it." -</p> -<p> -The Piccinino, in view of the princess's self-possession and -tranquillity, began to form a more exalted idea of her merit; for -hitherto he had seen in her nothing more than a seductive and charming -woman. -</p> -<p> -"I am very well satisfied with these explanations," he said; "but, -before taking any steps, I must know something more. Are you quite sure, -signora, that within the last two hours Abbé Ninfo has not taken Doctor -Recuperati by the throat and extorted that paper from him?" -</p> -<p> -"How can I know, captain? You alone can tell me, when you have consented -to begin your secret investigation. However, the doctor is a strong and -brave man, and his simplicity would not go so far as to allow himself to -be robbed by a weak, chicken-hearted creature like Abbé Ninfo." -</p> -<p> -"But what would prevent Ninfo, who is a scoundrel of the first order, -and has relations with all the greatest villains in the country, from -hiring a <i>bravo</i>, who, for an <i>honorable</i> reward, may have -lain in wait for the doctor and murdered him—or who is all ready -to do it at this moment?" -</p> -<p> -The tone in which the Piccinino presented this suggestion caused the -three persons who were listening to him a painful shock. -</p> -<p> -"Poor doctor!" cried the princess, turning pale; "can it be that such a -crime has been planned or executed? In heaven's name, explain yourself, -signor captain!" -</p> -<p> -"Never fear, signora, that crime has not been committed; but it might -have been, for it was determined upon." -</p> -<p> -"In that case, signor," said the princess, seizing both the bandit's -hands with a gesture of entreaty, "pray go at once. Save the life of an -honorable man, and make sure of the person of a vile knave, capable of -any crime." -</p> -<p> -"And suppose the will falls into my hands during the battle?" said the -bandit, rising but not releasing the princess's hands, which he had -seized in a firm grasp as soon as they touched his. -</p> -<p> -"The will, signor captain?" she replied, energetically. "Of what moment -is half of my fortune, when it is a question of saving victims from the -assassin's dagger? I care not what happens to the will. Seize the -monster who covets it. Ah! if I thought that I could satisfy his -resentment by giving it up to him, he might long ago have looked upon -himself as its undisturbed possessor!" -</p> -<p> -"But suppose that I become its possessor?" said the adventurer, -fastening his lynx eyes on Agatha's; "that would not suit Ninfo, who -knows very well that his eminence is in no condition to make or even to -dictate another. But would you, signora, who have been imprudent enough -to tell me what I did not know, who have informed me to what a -ridiculous custodian a document of so great importance has been -entrusted—would you be perfectly at ease?" -</p> -<p> -The princess had understood for a long time that the bandit would do -nothing unless he could see a possibility of obtaining possession of the -will to his own advantage. She had powerful reasons for being ready to -sacrifice it to him, and to hand over an enormous sum to him without -regret, when he should come to bargain with her for the restitution of -her proof of inheritance; for everybody knew, and the bandit, who seemed -to have studied the affair so carefully beforehand, probably was not -ignorant of the fact, that there was an earlier will in the hands of a -notary, which disinherited Agatha in favor of a distant relation. In a -paroxysm of hatred and resentment against his niece, the cardinal had -made that first will, and had made no secret of the fact. To be sure, -when he became so ill, and received from her marks of sincere respect -and affection, he had made different arrangements. But he had left the -previous will in existence, in case it should be his pleasure to destroy -the new one. When the wicked have a good impulse, they always leave a -door open for the return of their evil genius. -</p> -<p> -Agatha had already made up her mind with respect to the Piccinino's -ambitions; but by the way in which he allowed them to appear, she -understood that there was a large admixture of vanity in his avarice, -and she had the fortunate inspiration to gratify both of the bandit's -passions at the same time. -</p> -<p> -"Signor de Castro-Reale," she said, making an effort to pronounce a name -that she abhorred, and to confer it upon him as a title rightfully -belonging to the <i>Destatore's</i> natural child, "the will would be so -safe in your hands, that I should be glad if I could place it there -myself." -</p> -<p> -Agatha had conquered. The bandit's head was completely turned, and -another passion, which was contending with greed in his heart, gained -the upper hand in a twinkling. He put both of the signora's trembling -hands to his lips and bestowed upon them a kiss so long and so -passionate that Michel and the marquis himself shuddered. Another hope -than that of wealth took possession of the Piccinino's brain. A violent -passion had sprung to life within him on the night of the ball, when he -saw her admired and coveted by so many men whom she did not even deign -to notice, himself included; for she believed that she had never seen -him before this interview, although he hoped that she was simply -pretending not to recognize his face. -</p> -<p> -He had been incited especially by the apparent hopelessness of such a -conquest. Although somewhat disdainful and apparently chaste with the -women of his own station, the Piccinino had the appetites of a wild -beast; but vanity filled so large a place in all his instincts that he -rarely had an opportunity to satisfy them. This time the opportunity was -still uncertain, but the prospect was most intoxicating to his -enterprising, obstinate nature, fruitful in expedients, and enamored of -difficult exploits, reputed to be impossible. -</p> -<p> -"Well, signora," he cried at last, in a chivalrous tone, "your -confidence in me proceeds from a noble heart, and I will not fail to -justify it. Have no fear for Doctor Recuperati: he is in no danger -whatsoever. It is quite true that Abbé Ninfo made a bargain this very -day with a certain man, who promised to murder him; but, not only does -the abbé propose to wait until the cardinal is on his death-bed, which -is not the case as yet, but the dagger which is to strike your friend -will not leave its sheath without my permission. There is no reason for -such great haste, therefore, and I can safely return to my mountain for -a few days. Ninfo is to come in person to advise us of the favorable -moment to bury the knife in the good doctor's ample waistcoat, and, when -that moment comes, instead of performing that agreeable duty, we will -seize the abbé's person, begging him to enjoy the mountain air with us -until it shall please your ladyship to restore his liberty." -</p> -<p> -The princess, who had been perfectly self-possessed thus far, became -perturbed and replied in a quivering voice: -</p> -<p> -"I thought, captain, that you knew of another circumstance which makes -us all very impatient to know that Abbé Ninfo is on the mountain. -Doctor Recuperati is not the only one of my friends who is in danger, -and I instructed Fra Angelo to tell you our other reasons for desiring -to be rid of his presence forthwith." -</p> -<p> -The catlike Piccinino had not finished playing with the victim he -coveted. He pretended not to understand or not to remember that Michel -and his father were principally interested in the abbé's abduction. -</p> -<p> -"I think," he said, "that your highness exaggerates the dangers of -Ninfo's presence about the cardinal. You must be aware that his eminence -has the most profound contempt for that underling; that he can hardly -endure his presence, although he realizes the advantage of having so -zealous and quick-witted an interpreter; in short, that the cardinal, -while he may need his services, will never allow him to meddle with his -affairs. Your highness knows that there is a small legacy for the poor -abbé in the will, and I fancy that you will not stoop to contest the -payment of it." -</p> -<p> -"No, surely not!" replied the princess, surprised to find that the -bandit was so familiar with the contents of the will; "but it is not the -paltry fear that the abbé may obtain more or less money from the -cardinal that I have in my mind at this moment, I assure you. I have -already told you, captain, and Fra Angelo also must have told you, that -his brother and nephew are in great danger so long as Abbé Ninfo is in -a position to injure them with my uncle, the cardinal, and the -Neapolitan police." -</p> -<p> -"Ah!" said the crafty Piccinino, putting his hand to his forehead, "I -had forgotten that, and yet it is a matter of importance to you, -princess, I agree. Indeed I have several things to tell you in that -connection which you do not know. But it is a very delicate subject," he -said, feigning hesitation, "and it would be difficult for me to explain -myself in the presence of the two gentlemen who honor me with their -attention." -</p> -<p> -"You can say anything before the Marquis della Serra and Michelangelo -Lavoratori," said the princess, somewhat alarmed. -</p> -<p> -"No, signora, I know my duty too well to do so, and my respect for you -is too great to allow me to forget the proprieties to that point. If -your highness is disposed to listen to me without witnesses, I will -inform you of what has been planned and determined upon. If not," he -added, pretending to be preparing to go, "I will go and wait at Nicolosi -until you deign to advise me of the day and hour when it will be -agreeable to you to listen to me." -</p> -<p> -"At once, signor, at once," rejoined the princess hastily. "I am more -interested and more alarmed because the lives of my friends are -endangered for my sake than by any question of money. Come," she added, -rising, and resolutely placing her arm in the bandit's, "we will talk in -my flower-garden, and these gentlemen will await us here. Stay, stay, my -friends," she said to the marquis and Michel, who would have retired, -although the idea of that tête-à-tête caused them both an indefinable -dread; "I really need a breath of fresh air, and Signor de Castro-Reale -is kind enough to offer me his arm." -</p> -<p> -Michel and the marquis, as soon as they were alone, looked at each other -as if they had had the same thought, and, hastening each to a window, -stood where they would not lose sight of the princess for an instant, -although they could not overhear a conversation from which she herself -seemed content to exclude them. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap27"></a>XXVII -<br><br> -DIPLOMACY -</h4> - -<p> -"How did it happen, dear princess," said the bandit, in a careless tone, -as soon as he and Agatha were in the garden, arm-in-arm, "that you were -imprudent enough to try to make me speak of Michel in presence of a -cicisbeo so valuable to you as the Marquis della Serra? Your highness -forgets one thing: that if I know the secrets of Villa Ficarazzi, I -probably know those of Villa Palmarosa as well, since Abbé Ninfo -maintains an equally assiduous surveillance over both houses." -</p> -<p> -"So Abbé Ninfo has seen you first, eh, captain?" rejoined the princess, -trying to assume an equally unembarrassed tone; "and he took you into -his confidence in order to obtain your services in his interest?" -</p> -<p> -Agatha knew very well what to think in that respect. Certainly, if she -had not discovered that the abbé had already sought the Piccinino's -assistance in abducting, or perhaps murdering Michel, she would not have -thought it necessary to resort to him in order to procure the abduction -of the abbé. But she was careful not to allow her real motive to be -discovered. She desired that the bandit's self-love should be flattered -by what he might consider an instinctive impulse on her part. -</p> -<p> -"From whatever source I derive my information," he replied, with a -smile, "I leave it to you to judge of its accuracy. The last time that -the cardinal came to visit your highness, there was a young man at the -gate of your park whose distinguished features and bearing were in -striking contrast with his costume, which was covered with dust and worn -by a long journey. What caprice induced the cardinal to examine that -young man and to insist upon questioning him? that is something which -Ninfo himself does not know and has commissioned me to find out, if -possible. One thing is certain: that the mania, which has beset the -cardinal for a long time, of inquiring the name and age of all the young -men of the lower classes whose faces attract his attention, has survived -the loss of activity and memory. It is as if he still retained a sort of -vague distrust, a relic of his exalted police functions; and his -imperative glance commands Abbé Ninfo to ask questions and report to -him. It is true that when the abbé showed him the written result of his -investigation, he seemed to take no interest in it; in like manner, -whenever the abbé annoys him with his impertinent requests or -insinuating questions, his eminence, after reading the first words, -closes his eyes angrily, to show that he doesn't wish to be fatigued any -more. Perhaps your highness did not know these details, which Doctor -Recuperati knows nothing of; for, during the few hours' sleep which the -excellent doctor is permitted to enjoy, the watchfulness of the devoted -servants with whom Your Highness has surrounded the cardinal does not -avail to prevent Ninfo from entering his room, waking him without -ceremony, and placing before him certain written sentences from which he -hopes for favorable results. When the cardinal is awakened in this way, -his pain and his anger make his mind momentarily more lucid than usual; -he reads, seems to understand, and tries to utter words of which an -occasional syllable is intelligible to his persecutor; but almost -immediately he collapses again, and the feeble flame of his life is so -much nearer extinction." -</p> -<p> -"So that villain has ceased to be a mere flatterer and spy, to become my -unfortunate uncle's torturer and assassin?" cried the princess, -indignantly. "You must see, signor captain, that he must be delivered -from him at once, and that I need no other motive for desiring that he -be taken out of our way." -</p> -<p> -"Pardon me, signora," rejoined the bandit, obstinately. "If I had not -informed you of these things, you would still have personal motives of -even greater weight, which you do not choose to tell me, but which I -have learned from Ninfo. I never enter into an affair without making -myself thoroughly acquainted with it; and it sometimes falls to my lot, -as you see, to question both parties. Permit me to continue my -disclosures, therefore, and I trust that they will lead to disclosures -on your part. -</p> -<p> -"Abbé Ninfo did not examine very closely or ask many questions of the -individual at your highness's park gate. After a moment, seeing that the -cardinal continued somewhat agitated by the encounter, as if the young -man's face had aroused memories which he could not arrange and -place,—for his eminence often wears himself out, it seems, in such -painful mental toil,—the abbé retraced his steps and examined the -young man more carefully. The young man evidently had some reason for -being on his guard, for he deceived the abbé, who really took him for a -poor devil, and even gave him alms. But two days later, the abbé, -having, for the purpose of spying, disguised himself as a workman -employed in the preparations for your ball, soon discovered that his -poor devil was a brilliant artist, very much petted and favored by your -highness, and by no means in a position to accept alms at the gate of a -palace, since he is the son of a well-to-do artisan, Pier-Angelo -Lavoratori. -</p> -<p> -"On the night succeeding this discovery, the abbé did not fail to place -before Monsignor Hieronymo a sheet of paper containing this information -in large letters. But by dint of trying to tighten the last remaining -chords of the instrument, the abbé broke them. The cardinal did not -understand. The names of Pier-Angelo and Michelangelo Lavoratori -conveyed no meaning to him. He muttered a violent oath because Ninfo -disturbed his slumber. And so," added the Piccinino, with malicious -significance, "the fears which your highness entertains, or pretends to -entertain, with respect to Pier-Angelo are entirely without foundation. -Although the cardinal long ago prosecuted that excellent man as a -conspirator, he has so completely forgotten him that even Ninfo has no -hope of reviving the memory of an affair of which he himself knows -nothing, and your protégé is in no danger from any denunciation by -him, at present." -</p> -<p> -"I breathe again," said the princess, allowing the bandit to take her -hand in his, and even responding to his pressure, with generous -confidence. "Your words do me good, captain, and I bless you for having -confidence enough in me to reveal the truth to me. That was my whole -fear; but, since the cardinal remembers nothing and the abbé knows -nothing, I trust to your sagacity for the rest. Look you, captain, it -seems to me this is what we have to do. Do you find in your fertile -genius some method of obtaining possession of the will, and see that the -abbé is informed of it, so that there will be no further occasion for -him to persecute the worthy doctor; then keep the abbé's attention -diverted so that he will allow my unfortunate uncle to die in peace. -That will conclude by diplomatic methods an affair in which I have -feared that blood might be shed over paltry questions of money." -</p> -<p> -"Your excellency goes very fast!" rejoined the Piccinino. "The abbé -cannot be put to sleep so easily with regard to another subject, which -it is impossible for me, despite my respect, my awe and my -embarrassment, to pass over in silence." -</p> -<p> -"Speak, speak!" said Agatha, hastily. -</p> -<p> -"Very well, since your highness authorizes me to do so, and does not -choose to understand a hint, I will tell you that Abbé Ninfo, while in -quest of political intrigues which he has not succeeded in discovering, -has put his hand upon a love affair which he has turned to his -advantage." -</p> -<p> -"I do not understand," said the princess, with an air of sincerity that -startled the adventurer. -</p> -<p> -"Can Ninfo have been gulling me," he thought, "or is this woman strong -enough to hold her own against me? We will see." -</p> -<p> -"Signora," he said, in a honeyed tone, holding Agatha's hand against his -breast, "you will detest me, I suppose. However, I must serve you -against your will by telling you what I know. The abbé discovered that -Michelangelo was admitted every day at certain hours to the private -apartment in your Casino; that he did not eat with your servants or with -the other workmen, but with you, in secret; in a word, that, when he -took his siesta, he rested from his artistic labors in the arms of the -loveliest and most lovable of women." -</p> -<p> -"It is false!" cried the princess; "it is an abominable falsehood. I -treated that young man with the distinction which I considered that I -owed to his talent and his ideas. He ate with his father in a room next -to mine, and took his siesta in my picture gallery. Abbé Ninfo did not -watch very closely, or he might have told you that Michel, being utterly -tired out, passed two or three nights under my roof." -</p> -<p> -"He told me that, too," replied the Piccinino, who always chose to seem -to know beforehand what anyone told him. -</p> -<p> -"Very well, Signor de Castro-Reale," said Agatha, in a firm voice, -looking him full in the face, "there is no doubt about the fact; but I -can swear upon my mother's soul and your mother's that that young man -never saw me until the day of the ball, when his father first introduced -him to me, in presence of two hundred mechanics. I talked to him during -the ball, on the main staircase, and the Marquis della Serra, who was -escorting me, complimented him, as I did myself, upon his paintings. -From that moment down to this very evening Michel had never seen me; ask -himself! You are not a man whom one can deceive, captain; use your -perspicacity, and I will trust it." -</p> -<p> -The Piccinino quivered with pleasure at this concise declaration, made -with the assurance which truth alone can give, and he pressed Agatha's -hand against his breast with such force that she detected his sentiments -at last. She had a moment of terror, augmented by a ghastly -reminiscence. But she realized, in a flash, the full extent of the -dangers to which Michel had been exposed, and, postponing the matter of -her own safety to a more favorable season, she determined to deal -tenderly with Carmelo Tomabene's pride. -</p> -<p> -"What motive could Abbé Ninfo have had in telling us that extraordinary -story?" he exclaimed. -</p> -<p> -Agatha fancied that she could understand that the abbé had detected the -violent passion for herself by which she saw at last that the bandit was -possessed, and that he had endeavored to incite him to vengeance by his -tale of intrigue. "If that is so," she thought, "I will use the same -weapons, vile Ninfo, since you have been kind enough to furnish me with -them." -</p> -<p> -"Listen, captain," she said; "you who know men so well and read so -readily the innermost folds of the conscience, must have discovered -that, in addition to all his manifest vices, the abbé is an insatiable -libertine? Do you suppose that he has confined himself to coveting my -inheritance? did he not let you see that it was not for money alone that -he would try to sell me a part of it if he should succeed in obtaining -possession of it?" -</p> -<p> -"Yes!" cried the Piccinino, this time with the utmost sincerity; "I -thought that I could detect revolting desires and hopes on the part of -that monster of ugliness and lust. His affected incredulity concerning -the possibility of resistance by a woman, in such cases, is simply an -attempt to console himself when he thinks of his own physical and moral -ugliness. Yes, yes, I suspected it in spite of his hypocrisy. I will not -say that he loves you; that would be a profanation of the word love; but -he desires you, and he is jealous. Jealous, do I say! Ah! that word -again is too respectable! Jealousy is the passion of young hearts, and -his is decrepit. He suspects and detests everybody about you. In fact, -he has devised an infernal method of conquering you: judging rightly -that the desire to ransom your inheritance would not suffice, and -supposing that you loved this young artist, he has determined to use him -as a hostage and to compel you to purchase at his own price the life and -liberty of Michelangelo." -</p> -<p> -"I ought to have expected that," replied the princess, affecting an air -of contemptuous tranquillity, although her whole body was bathed in cold -perspiration. "And so he selected you, captain, as his associate in an -undertaking worthy of those men who devote themselves to the most -hideous of all trades, the mere name of which is so degrading that no -true woman could bear to speak it in any tongue! It seems to me that -that mark of confidence on the part of the excellent Abbé Ninfo merits -a somewhat severe punishment at your hands!" -</p> -<p> -Agatha had touched the right chord. The abbé's execrable projects, -which had previously moved the young bandit to nothing more than -satirical contempt, appeared to him now in the light of a personal -insult and kindled the thirst for vengeance in him. So true is it that -love, even in a wild, unbridled heart, arouses the sentiment of manly -dignity. -</p> -<p> -"Severe punishment!" he said, in a deep voice, with clenched teeth; "he -shall have it!—But," he added, "have no further anxiety about -anything, signora; deign to place your fate in my hands unreservedly." -</p> -<p> -"My fate is already in your hands, captain," replied Agatha; "my -fortune, my reputation, and the lives of my friends: think you that I -have an anxious air?" -</p> -<p> -And she looked him through and through with a profound gaze, wherein she -was so happily inspired by the superior sagacity of the courageous -woman, that the Piccinino felt its influence and found that respect and -awe were mingled with his passion.—"Ah! you romantic woman," he -thought, "you have not outgrown the belief that a bandit chief must be a -stage hero or a chevalier of the Middle Ages! And here am I compelled to -play that part for your pleasure! Very well, I will play it. Nothing is -difficult to him who has read much and reasoned much.—Indeed, why -should I not be a hero in good earnest?" he said to himself, as he -walked silently beside that trembling woman whom he believed to be so -trustful and confiding, pressing her arm to his side with his own -trembling arm. "If I have not deigned to be one hitherto, it is simply -because the opportunity has never offered, and my essays at grandeur -would have been absurd. With such a woman as this, the game is well -worth the candle, and I cannot believe that it is difficult to be -sublime when the reward is destined to be so sweet. It is an undertaking -founded upon a selfish motive more elevated, but no less substantial or -less logical than others." -</p> -<p> -Before assuming definitively the attitude of the princess's true knight, -he determined to do away with a lingering remnant of distrust, and he -was almost ingenuous in seeking to cure himself of it. -</p> -<p> -"The only weakness of which I am conscious," he said, "is the dread of -playing a ridiculous rôle. Ninfo wished me to play an infamous one, he -shall be punished for it; but if your highness really loves that young -man—why, that young man also will have reason to regret having -deceived me!" -</p> -<p> -"How am I to understand you?" rejoined Agatha, leading him into the ray -of light which the chandelier in her boudoir cast into the garden; "I do -really love Michelangelo, Pier-Angelo, and Fra Angelo, as devoted -friends and estimable men. To rescue them from the enmity of a villain I -would give all the money that anyone might ask. But look at me, captain, -and look at that young man musing yonder behind that window. Do you -consider that there can possibly exist a bond based upon impure passion -between two persons of our respective ages and conditions? You do not -know my character. Nobody has ever understood it. Will you be the first -one to do it justice? I wish it might be so, for I care very much for -your esteem, and I should think that I was wholly undeserving of it if I -entertained for that child sentiments which I feared to allow you to -detect." -</p> -<p> -As she spoke, Agatha, who had dropped the bandit's arm, took it again to -return to the boudoir; and he was so grateful to her for that mark of -trustful friendship, of which she desired Michel and the marquis to be -witnesses, that he felt intoxicated and, as it were, beside himself with -joy. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap28"></a>XXVIII -<br><br> -JEALOUSY -</h4> - -<p> -Neither the marquis nor Michel had heard a word of the conversation we -have reported. But the first was tranquil in his mind, the other was -not. The marquis, having assured himself that the princess was calm, had -no fear that she incurred any immediate danger with the brigand; whereas -Michel, not being familiar with her character, suffered keenly at the -bare thought that the Piccinino might, in his speech, have gone beyond -the bounds of respect. His suffering was intensified when he saw the -Piccinino's face as he returned to the boudoir. -</p> -<p> -That face, ordinarily so indifferent and composed, was, as it were, -illuminated by confidence and joy. The little man seemed to have grown a -cubit taller, and his black eyes flashed flames which one would not have -believed could be kindled in a head so cool and calculating. -</p> -<p> -No sooner had the princess, who was somewhat fatigued from having walked -a long while in a small space, seated herself on the couch, to which he -escorted her with the most dignified courtesy, than he fell, rather than -sat down upon a chair, on the other side of the small boudoir, but with -his face turned toward her as if he had stationed himself there to gaze -at her in the glare of the chandelier. In truth, the Piccinino, after -having enjoyed in the garden the sweetness of her voice, the flattering -significance of her words, and the softness of her hand, desired, in -order to put the finishing touch to the sensuous delight which he had -felt for the first time in his life, to gaze at her at his leisure, -without the labor of speech or of thought. He fell into a silent -meditation, more eloquent than Michel could have desired. He feasted his -bold eyes with the sight of that exquisite and fascinating woman, whom -it seemed to him that he already possessed, as with a treasure which he -had stolen, and which he took pleasure in gloating over, as it lay -gleaming before him. -</p> -<p> -The young painter's distress was intensified by the fact that, under the -mysterious influence of that all-pervading passion, which but just born -was already spreading with the rapidity of a conflagration, the bandit -acquired a strange power of fascination. His exquisite beauty shone -forth like a star emerging from the vapors on the horizon. All that was -unusual in the outlines of his features and disquieting in their veiled -expression gave way to a subtle charm, an overpowering effusiveness, -albeit silent, and, as it were, overwhelmed by its own ardor. He was -lying back in his chair, but no longer affected indifference or -absent-mindedness. His hanging arms, his bent back, his eyes, glistening -and fascinated, and fixed intently on the princess, indicated that he -was shattered, as it were, by the explosion of a force unknown to -himself, and drowned in the anticipated joys of his triumph. Michel was -afraid of him for the first time. He would still have defied him -fearlessly in the ill-omened solitude of the <i>Destatore's Cross</i>; but -in that room, radiant with a strange ecstasy, he seemed too overpowering -for any woman to escape the fascination of that basilisk glance. -</p> -<p> -However, Agatha did not seem to notice it, and whenever he turned his -eyes from the bandit to her, he found her apparently calm and -undisturbed, having no thought either of attacking or of defending -herself. -</p> -<p> -"My friends," she said, after pausing a moment to take breath, "we can -say good-night and separate with our minds at rest. I place my full -confidence in this new friend whom Providence, acting through the wisdom -of Fra Angelo, has sent to us. You will share my confidence when I tell -you that he knew beforehand, and knew far better than ourselves, what we -had to fear and to hope." -</p> -<p> -"It is a decidedly interesting affair, it is true," said the Piccinino, -making an effort to emerge from his dreaming; "and it is time that this -young man should know why I roared with laughter when he came to see me. -You will laugh too, I hope, Master Michelangelo, when you learn that you -came and entrusted your fate to a man who had been strenuously urged, an -hour earlier, to do you a bad turn; and if I were not calm and prudent -in such affairs, if I believed blindly the words of those who came to -consult me, while you were urging me in her highness's behalf to kidnap -Abbé Ninfo, I should have seized you and thrown you into my cellar, -securely bound and gagged, at the request of Abbé Ninfo. I see by your -manner that you would have resisted vigorously. Oh! I know that you are -brave, and I fancy that you are stronger than I. You have an uncle who -has kept his muscles in play so persistently for twenty years past, -breaking stone, that he cannot have lost any of the strength which -caused him to be called <i>Iron Arm</i> when he plied another trade on the -mountain; but, when one is engaged in a matter of great political -moment, one takes precautions, and I had but to touch a little bell to -have my house surrounded by determined men, who would not have afforded -you even the pleasure of resistance." -</p> -<p> -Having spoken thus, his eyes fixed upon Michel with a playful -expression, the Piccinino turned again to the princess. She had -concealed her pallor behind her fan, and when the brigand met her eyes, -they were armed with a tranquil expression which dispelled the last -traces of his ironical humor. The secret pleasure which it always -afforded him to frighten those who ventured into his presence -disappeared before that womanly glance, which seemed to say to him: "You -shall not do it, I forbid you." -</p> -<p> -So that he at once assumed an expression of hearty good-will, and said -to Michel: -</p> -<p> -"You see, my young friend, that I had my reasons for insisting upon an -explanation of the affair, and for not being in too much of a hurry. Now -that I am convinced that honor and truth are on one side, infamy and -falsehood on the other, my choice is made, and you can sleep with both -eyes shut. I propose to go with you to Catania," he added, addressing -Michel in an undertone, "where I must arrange the worthy abbé's -departure for to-morrow. But I absolutely require two hours' rest. Can -you promise me a corner in your house where I can sleep soundly for two -hours without danger of being seen? For my features are hardly known in -the city, and I do not wish them to become known there until it is -necessary. Tell me, can I enter your house without fear of inquisitive -eyes, especially women's eyes?" -</p> -<p> -"I have a young sister who is moderately inquisitive," replied Michel -smiling; "but she will be in bed at this time of night. Trust me, as I -trusted you; I will give you my own bed, and sit up in the room if you -wish." -</p> -<p> -"I accept," said the bandit, who, while talking with Michel, was trying -to overhear the words, unimportant in themselves, which the princess was -exchanging with the marquis, in order not to embarrass the conversation -between the two young men. Michel observed that, notwithstanding the -Piccinino's assertion that he could not do two things at once, he did -not lose a gesture, a word, or a movement of Agatha's, while he was -talking with him. -</p> -<p> -When he was assured of the two hours' absolute rest which was, he said, -indispensable to put him in a condition to act intelligently, the -Piccinino rose and prepared to retire. But the coquettish moderation -with which he arranged his cloak about his flexible figure, the languid -grace of his preoccupied air during that momentous operation, and the -imperceptible quivering of his silky black moustache, showed plainly -enough that he went away with regret, and after the manner of a man who -is striving to dispel the mists of drunkenness in order to return to -work. -</p> -<p> -"You do not wish to be seen?" said Agatha; "then step into the marquis's -carriage with Michel. He will drive you to the outskirts of the city, -and you can slip through the narrow streets." -</p> -<p> -"Many thanks, signora!" replied the bandit. "I have no desire to take -your servants and the signor marquis's into my confidence. To-morrow -morning Abbé Ninfo, whose discernment exceeds their discretion, would -learn that a mountaineer came out of your apartments whom nobody had -seen go in; and the excellent abbé, thinking that that performance -savored somewhat of the <i>bravo</i>, would insult me by withdrawing the -confidence with which he honors me. I must be his fidus Achates and his -very good friend for twelve hours more. I will go out with Michel as I -came." -</p> -<p> -"And when shall I see you again?" said Agatha, courageously offering him -her hand, despite the lustful flame in his unshrinking eyes. -</p> -<p> -"You will not see me again," he replied, putting one knee to the floor -and kissing her hand with a sort of frenzy in marked contrast to the -humility of his attitude, "until your orders are carried out. I cannot -fix the day and hour, but I will answer for the safety of all your -friends—even the stout doctor—with my life! I know the way -to your Casino. When I ring <i>one</i>, <i>three</i> and <i>seven</i> at -the gate of your flower-garden, will your ladyship deign to admit me to -your presence?" -</p> -<p> -"You can rely upon it, captain," she replied, giving no sign of the -alarm caused her by that request. -</p> -<p> -The Marquis della Serra did not fail to take his leave at the same time -that the two young men went from the boudoir into the garden. His -respect for the princess was so punctilious that he would not for the -world have assumed the attitude of a favored lover. But he descended the -staircase of the palace slowly, still disturbed in mind, and ready to go -up again at the slightest noise. -</p> -<p> -On leaving the garden, the Piccinino locked the gate himself and handed -the key to Michel, reproaching him for his carelessness. -</p> -<p> -"Except for me," he said, "this all-important key—this key that -cannot be replaced—would have been left in the lock." -</p> -<p> -A moment's self-possession, before entering the boudoir, had sufficed -for the bandit to take the impression of the key on a lump of wax which -he always carried with him for emergencies. -</p> -<p> -They had no sooner started down the staircase cut in the rock than -Agatha's maid, who was entirely devoted to her, came to her and said: -</p> -<p> -"The young man whom your highness sent for is waiting in the picture -gallery." -</p> -<p> -Agatha put her finger to her lips to warn the maid to speak lower on -such occasions, and went down to the floor below, where Magnani had been -waiting more than half an hour. -</p> -<p> -Poor Magnani had been more dead than alive since he received the -princess's mysterious message. Being very different from the Piccinino, -he was so far from entertaining the slightest hope that he imagined the -worst that could possibly happen. "I must have made a terrible mistake," -he said to himself, "in confiding to Michel the secret of my folly. He -probably talked about it with his sister, and Mila has seen the -princess, who treats her like a spoiled child. The chatter of that girl, -who cannot understand the gravity of such a disclosure, terrified and -disgusted the princess. But why not banish me without any explanation? -What can she say to me that will not be horribly painful and uselessly -cruel?" -</p> -<p> -That hour of suspense seemed to him a century. He was cold; he felt as -if he should die, when the secret door of the gallery opened -noiselessly, and he saw Agatha approaching him, pale with the excitement -through which she had just passed, and diaphanous in her white lace -cape. The enormous gallery was lighted only by a single glass lamp. It -seemed to him that the princess did not walk, but that she glided toward -him, after the manner of a ghost. -</p> -<p> -She approached without hesitation, and offered him her hand as if he -were an intimate friend. And, as he hesitated to give her his, thinking -that he was dreaming, fearing that he might misunderstand the meaning of -that gesture, she said to him in a soft but firm voice: -</p> -<p> -"Give me your hand, my child, and tell me if you still feel for me the -friendship which you once expressed when you thought that you owed me -some gratitude for your mother's cure. Do you remember? I have never -forgotten that generous outburst of your heart!" -</p> -<p> -Magnani could not reply. He dared not put Agatha's hand to his lips. He -pressed it gently in his as he bent over it. She felt that he was -trembling. -</p> -<p> -"You are very timid," she said; "I hope that if you are afraid of me -there is no touch of distrust in your fear. I must speak to you quickly; -do you answer in the same way. Are you disposed to do me a very great -favor, at the risk of your life? I ask it in your mother's name!" -</p> -<p> -Magnani fell on his knees. Only with his eyes, which were streaming with -tears, could he testify his enthusiasm and his devotion. Agatha -understood him. -</p> -<p> -"You must return to Catania," she said; "run until you overtake two men -who have just left here and who will not have five minutes' start of -you. One is Michelangelo Lavoratori; you can readily recognize him in -the moonlight. The other is a mountaineer wrapped in his cloak. Follow -them without seeming to watch them, but do not lose sight of them. At -the least suspicious gesture on that man's part, you will hurl yourself -upon him and throw him down. You are strong," she added, touching the -young artisan's robust arm; "but he is active and cunning. Be on your -guard! See, here is a dagger; use it only in self-defence. That man is -either my enemy or my preserver, I do not know which. Spare his life, if -possible. Fly with Michel, if you can thereby avoid a bloody battle. You -live in the same house with Michel, do you not?" -</p> -<p> -"Almost, signora." -</p> -<p> -"Be where you can assist him at the first alarm. Do not go to bed; pass -the night as near his room as you can. The man I speak of will go away -before daylight; do not leave your house and do not let Michel go away -unless you go together, always together, do you understand? And be ready -until I give different orders. To-morrow I will explain everything to -you; I will see you. Rely upon me, from this day forth, as a second -mother. Come, my child, follow me; I will put you on the track of Michel -and his companion." -</p> -<p> -She took him by the arm and hastily led him up to the Casino, which they -passed through without a word. She opened the garden gate, and pointing -to the staircase in the rock, "Go," she said, "celerity, caution, and -your noble heart, the heart of a man of the people, for your friend's -buckler!" -</p> -<p> -Magnani descended the stairs as swiftly and noiselessly as an arrow. He -wasted no time in reflection, nor did he exhaust the force of his -determination by worrying. He did not even ask himself the question -whether Michel was his fortunate rival, and whether he should not be -tempted to run him through the heart. Impelled by the magic force which -Agatha's hand and breath had given him, he was all ready to lay down his -life for that favored child of fortune, and he felt no more regret than -hesitation at the thought of sacrificing himself thus. Nay, more, he was -happy and proud to obey the woman he loved, and her words rang in his -heart like a voice from Heaven. -</p> -<p> -He was soon in the fields and discovered two men walking along a path. -He recognized Michel; he recognized the mountaineer's cloak. He took -pains not to show himself; but he measured with a glance the distance -and the obstacles that he would have to pass over in case of an alarm. -The mountaineer stopped for a moment, talking earnestly. Magnani, with a -determined effort of strength and activity, which under other -circumstances would have been beyond the power of man, reached a point -sufficiently near to overhear him, and found that he was talking of love -and poetry. -</p> -<p> -He allowed them to gain on him again, and, gliding through a narrow path -among the blocks of lava that lay in great heaps at the entrance to the -city, he arrived before them in the yard of the adjoining houses -occupied by his family and Michel's. He watched his young friend and his -suspicious guest enter the house. Then Magnani made the circuit of the -houses, looking for a place where he could pass the night, unseen, but -within hearing of the slightest noise, the slightest commotion inside. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap29"></a>XXIX -<br><br> -APPARITIONS -</h4> - -<p> -Pier-Angelo had been notified by the princess and by a message from the -monk of Mal Passo, that he must not be alarmed by his son's absence, and -that, in case of danger, the young man would pass the night either at -the convent with his uncle, or in the Marquis della Serra's palace. The -princess would have preferred the latter course; but the necessity of -showing absolute confidence in the brigand, concerning whose -sensitiveness Fra Angelo had fully informed her, had triumphed over her -anxiety. With great foresight she had sent for Magnani, and we have seen -that she was justified in her reliance upon that excellent young man. -</p> -<p> -Pier-Angelo, naturally optimistic, and reassured by the message he had -received, had gone to bed and was making up for the fatigue of the ball -like a man who knows how to use time to advantage. Mila had also gone to -her room; but she was not asleep. She had passed the afternoon with the -princess, and, upon being questioned by her concerning her friends, had -spoken of Antonio Magnani among others with a warmth which would have -betrayed the secret of her heart, even if Agatha had not been watchful -and penetrating. It was the favorable account the girl had given of her -young neighbor which had finally led the princess to call upon him for -aid in the embarrassment of her situation. She had said to herself that -Magnani might well become Mila's husband some day, and that nothing -could be more natural, therefore, than that he should have a share in -shaping Michelangelo's destiny. She had entrusted Mila with the message -to Magnani to come to her that night, and poor Magnani, on receiving the -message, had nearly fainted. Should we not rather say <i>poor Mila</i>? But -Mila had attributed the young man's confusion to his timidity alone. -Agatha was the last person whom she would have suspected of being her -rival, not that she was not in her eyes the loveliest of women, but -because, in a pure heart, there is no room for jealousy of the persons -whom one loves. On the contrary, the true-hearted child was happy in the -mark of esteem and confidence with which her dear Agatha had honored -Magnani. She was proud of it for his sake, and would have liked to be -able to carry him such messages every day. -</p> -<p> -But the princess had thought that she ought not to conceal from Mila the -fact that Michel was necessarily involved in an adventure in which he -might incur some danger, and that Magnani would assist him to defend -himself. -</p> -<p> -So Mila was anxious; she had said nothing to her father of her fears; -but she had been out more than ten times on the road to the villa, -listening to noises in the distance, watching all the passers-by, and -returning to the house each time more distressed and alarmed than -before. At last, when eleven o'clock struck, she dared not go out again, -but remained in her room, sometimes at the window, where she tired her -eyes staring to no purpose, sometimes beside her bed, where she fell on -her knees, depressed beyond measure, with her face buried in the pillow. -At times her pulses throbbed so violently that she mistook the throbbing -for a noise by her side. Then she would start and raise her head, and, -hearing nothing, try to pray. -</p> -<p> -At last, about midnight, she thought that she heard distinctly a faint -sound of irregular footsteps in the yard. She looked and fancied that -she saw a shadow glide along the wall and disappear in the darkness. It -was Magnani; but she could not distinguish any well-defined form, and -was not sure that she had not been deceived by her own imagination. -</p> -<p> -A few moments later two men stole noiselessly up the outside staircase -of the house. Mila had begun to pray again, and did not hear them until -they were under her window. She ran to the window, and seeing only the -tops of their heads, as she was directly above them, she had no doubt -that they were her brother and Magnani returning together. She hastily -rearranged her lovely hair, which had fallen over her shoulders, and -hurried to meet them. But as she passed into Michel's chamber, the outer -door of that chamber opened, and she found herself face to face with -Michel and a man who was fully a head shorter than Antonio Magnani. -</p> -<p> -The Piccinino, whose features were hidden by the hood of his cloak, -hastily drew back and closed the door, saying: "You probably did not -expect your mistress to-night, Michel. Under any other circumstances it -would give me great pleasure to see her, for she seemed to be as -beautiful as the Madonna; but at this moment you will oblige me greatly -if you can send her away without letting her see me." -</p> -<p> -"Have no fear," replied the young artist. "This woman is my sister, and -I will send her back to her own room. Stay here a moment, behind the -door." -</p> -<p> -"Mila," he said, entering the room again and holding the door between -his companion and himself, "you seem to have taken a mania for sitting -up late like a night-bird. Go back to your own room, my dear love, I am -not alone. One of father's apprentices has asked me to take him in, and -I am going to share my bed with him. You must see that you shouldn't -stay here another moment, unless you want to be seen with your hair and -dress in disorder." -</p> -<p> -"I will go," said Mila; "but tell me first, Michel, whether Magnani came -home with you?" -</p> -<p> -"What does it matter to you?" rejoined Michel, testily. Mila heaved a -profound sigh, and returned to her room, where she threw herself on her -bed, quite disheartened, but determined to pretend to be asleep, and to -listen to everything that was said in the adjoining room. Perhaps -something had happened to Magnani; her brother's abrupt manner seemed to -her of evil augury. -</p> -<p> -As soon as the Piccinino found himself alone with Michel, he asked him -to throw the bolts and to place a mattress from the bed against the thin -warped door of the adjoining room, through which the light could be seen -and their voices heard. When that was done, he asked him to make sure -that his father was asleep, or, if he were still awake, to wish him -good-night, so that the old man might not take it into his head to come -upstairs. As he spoke, the bandit unceremoniously threw himself on -Michel's bed, having first removed his rich doublet, and, covering his -head with his cloak, seemed determined not to lose an instant in going -to sleep. -</p> -<p> -Michel went downstairs as he was requested; but he was no sooner on the -staircase than the young outlaw sprang to his feet as swiftly and -lightly as a bird, threw the mattress aside, drew the bolt, and -approached Mila's bed, beside which her little lamp was still burning. -</p> -<p> -Mila heard him come in; but she supposed that Michel had come to make -sure that she was in bed. It did not occur to her that another could -have the audacity to enter her room thus, and, like a child who is -afraid of being scolded, she closed her eyes and lay perfectly still. -</p> -<p> -The Piccinino had never seen a beautiful woman without being disturbed -and restless until he had examined her carefully, in order that he might -cease to think of her if her beauty was imperfect, or cast his net over -her if her style of beauty succeeded in inflaming his disdainful heart, -a strange compound of love and indolence, energy and torpor. Few men of -twenty-five have lived so chaste and self-restrained a life as the -bandit of Ætna; but few imaginations are so fertile as his was in -dreams of pleasure and in boundless appetites. It seemed that he was -always seeking to kindle his passions in order to test their intensity, -but that he abstained from gratifying them most of the time, fearing -lest his enjoyment might fall short of the idea he had conceived of it. -Certain it is that on the few occasions on which he had given way, he -had been profoundly depressed afterwards, and had reproached himself for -having expended so much exertion for a pleasure so soon exhausted. -</p> -<p> -Perhaps he had other reasons for wishing to see Michel's sister's -features without Michel's knowledge. However that may be, he gazed at -her attentively for a moment, and, enraptured by her beauty, her -youthful grace, and her air of innocence, he asked himself whether he -would not do better to love that fascinating child rather than a woman -older than himself and doubtless more difficult to persuade. -</p> -<p> -At that moment Mila, weary of feigning sleep, and more eager for news of -Magnani than afraid of her brother's reproaches, opened her eyes and saw -the stranger leaning over her. She saw his eyes gleaming under his hood, -and, terror-stricken, she was on the point of crying out, when he put -his hand over her mouth. -</p> -<p> -"Child," he said in a low voice, "if you say a word, you are lost. Hush, -and I will go away. Come, come, my lovely angel," he added, in a -caressing tone, "don't be afraid of the friend of your family; before -long perhaps you will thank him for having disturbed your sleep." -</p> -<p> -And, being unable to resist an insane impulse of coquetry, of a sort -that often caused him suddenly to forget his resolutions and his -cautious instincts, he threw back his hood and disclosed his beautiful -features, made still more beautiful by a sweet and winning smile. The -innocent Mila thought that she had had a vision. The diamonds that -sparkled on the young man's breast so heightened the general effect that -she did not know whether it was an angel or a prince in disguise who -stood before her. Bewildered, hesitating, she smiled back at him, half -fascinated, half terrified. Thereupon he lifted a heavy tress of her -black hair, which had fallen over her shoulders, and put it to his lips. -Fear gained the upper hand. Again Mila attempted to cry out. The -stranger flashed such a terrible glance at her that her voice failed -her. He put out the lamp, returned to Michel's room, bolted the door, -and replaced the mattress; then, throwing himself on the bed and -concealing his face, he seemed to be sleeping soundly when Michel -returned. All this had happened in less time than it has required to -tell it. -</p> -<p> -But, for the first time in his life, perhaps, the Piccinino could not -compel sleep to deaden the activity of his thoughts. His imagination was -an unbroken steed, with whom he had fought so many battles that he -believed that he had placed a curb in his mouth forever. But the curb -was broken, and that powerful will, exhausted in trivial combats, no -longer sufficed to control fierce instincts too long held in check. He -was between two violent temptations, which appeared to him in the shape -of two women almost equally desirable, and whom the detestable Ninfo had -practically offered to share with him. Michel was the hostage whom he -had in his hands, and for whose ransom he could demand and perhaps -obtain everything. -</p> -<p> -To be sure, he no longer believed in Agatha's passion for the young -artist; but he had seen her utter indifference as to the matter of -money, when it was a question of saving her friends from perils that -threatened them. Was she so disinterested as to think that she ought to -sacrifice something more than her fortune to ransom her protégé? -Probably not; so that the bandit must rely upon his individual powers of -seduction, and he saw in Michel only a means of gaining access to her so -that he might exert those powers. -</p> -<p> -As for the young sister, it seemed to him an easier matter to overcome -so innocent a child, not only because of the more direct affection which -she undoubtedly entertained for her brother, but also because of her -inexperience and the purity of her imagination, which he had tested with -a glance. -</p> -<p> -In respect to youthful charm and mere physical beauty, Mila far -surpassed Agatha; but Agatha was a princess, and the instinct of vanity -was strong in the bastard of Castro-Reale. She was supposed never to -have had a lover, she seemed prudent and strong. She had had twenty -years or more to practise self-defence and to repel the assaults of the -passions she had inspired; for she was at least thirty years old, and in -the fiery climate of Sicily, where plants mature in less time than they -require in France to put forth buds, a girl of ten is almost a woman. -</p> -<p> -It was, therefore, a most glorious conquest to dream about, and for that -reason most intoxicating. But there was also the fear of failure, and -Carmelo thought that in that case he should die of shame and rage. He -had never known pain; it was a word almost devoid of meaning to him -until that moment. He was beginning to discover that one can suffer for -other causes than anger and ennui. As he lay awake, he watched Michel -without his knowledge. He saw him sit down at his table and take his -head in his hands, in an attitude of the most complete discouragement. -</p> -<p> -Michel was profoundly depressed. All his dreams had vanished like smoke. -His situation seemed to him sufficiently elucidated by the conversation -he had had with the bandit as they returned from the villa. To test him, -the Piccinino had repeated Abbé Ninfo's calumnies, pretending to -believe them and generously to take Michel's part. The young painter's -noble and upright heart had rebelled against a suspicion which assailed -the princess's dignity; his denials and his manner of describing his -first interview with her in the ball-room had corresponded so closely -with the way in which the princess herself had represented the facts to -the bandit, that the latter, after a more searching and subtle -examination than that of an inquisitor, had ended by becoming convinced -that there was nothing criminal in the princess's relations with the -artist. -</p> -<p> -Thereupon, seeing that there was a background of unhappiness to Michel's -modesty and loyalty, the Piccinino had concluded that, if the princess -did not love him, he wished that she might, and that he had fallen in -love with her at first sight. He remembered Michel's abrupt and ironical -reply to himself during the ball, and he took a cruel delight in making -him feel that he could not hope to be loved by such a woman. It even -occurred to him to admit that he questioned him only to test the -refinement of his nature, and he ended by repeating word for word what -Agatha had said when she pointed to Michel at the window of the boudoir: -"Look at that young man and tell me if there can possibly be any -wrongful relations between two persons of our respective ages and -conditions." Then he added, pressing Michel's hand as they entered the -city: "My child, I am pleased with you; for any other man, at your age, -would have seized the opportunity to pose as the hero of a mysterious -adventure with that adorable woman. Now I see that you are already a -serious-minded man, and I can say to you in confidence that she has made -an ineffaceable impression on me, and that I shall be like a stone in -the crater of the volcano until I have seen her again." -</p> -<p> -The tone in which the Piccinino proclaimed, so to speak, this -confession, combined with the remembrance of his enraptured face and his -triumphant attitude when he returned to the boudoir with Agatha, alarmed -Michel beyond expression. He had not felt obliged in conscience to tell -him what illusions he had cherished, what he had thought that he could -read in certain glances, still less what had taken place—and he -did not believe that it was altogether a dream—in the grotto of -the naiad. Indeed, he would have considered it his bounden duty to deny -it with all his strength if his rival could have suspected it. But all -his phantoms of pride and happiness took flight before Agatha's cold -words, repeated in a dry, cutting tone by the Piccinino. But one point -remained obscure in his situation. That was the peculiarly warm -affection of the princess for his father and sister. But how could he -attribute the honor of that affection to himself? It was based upon an -ancient political connection or upon gratitude for some service rendered -by Pier-Angelo. Pier-Angelo's son was subjected to the dangers of that -connection at the same time that he shared its benefits. When that debt -of the heart was paid, it was impossible that Michel could arouse any -further interest in the generous patroness of his family. The mysteries -that had fascinated him fell back into the domain of reality, and -instead of the pleasant labor of combating charming illusions, he had -the mortification of feeling that he had combated them unsuccessfully -and the pain of being unable to revive them. -</p> -<p> -"Why should I be jealous of the insolent joy that shone in the eyes of -that bandit?" he said to himself in dire distress. "Have I any business -even to consider the question whether his strange manner caused the -princess pleasurable or painful emotion? What have she and I in common? -What am I to her? Pier-Angelo's son! And he, this bold-faced adventurer, -is her mainstay and her savior. He will soon have a claim upon her -gratitude—perhaps upon her esteem and affection; for it rests only -with him to acquire them. He loves her, and if he is not mad he will find -some way or other to make her love him. But how can I earn any title to -her distinction? Of what consequence are the embryotic products of my -art in comparison with the energetic assistance which she demands? It -seems to me that she looks upon me as a child, since, instead of calling -me to her aid, and entrusting to me some mission of importance to her -interests and her personal safety, she does not even consider me capable -of defending my own life. She considers me so weak or so timid that in -this hour of our common danger she has sought the intervention of a -stranger—an ally more dangerous than useful, it may be. O my God! how -far she is from looking upon me as a man! Why did she not simply say to -me: 'Your father and I are threatened by an enemy. Drop your brushes, -take a dagger; defend your father or avenge me!' Fra Angelo reproached -me for my indifference; but, instead of correcting it, they actually -treat me like a child whom they pity, and whose life they save without -troubling themselves about his heart!" -</p> -<p> -While he abandoned himself to these melancholy reflections, Michelangelo -felt as if his heart were breaking, and finding in front of him the -sprig of cyclamen, which was still living in its Venetian glass, he let -a scalding tear fall upon it. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap30"></a>XXX -<br><br> -THE FALSE MONK -</h4> - -<p> -Mila had been so astonished and alarmed by the appearance of the -Piccinino that she could not possibly sleep. The fact that alarmed her -most was that she no longer heard conversation in the adjoining room, -and that she could not make sure that her brother was there. She was -unwilling to go to bed, and, after a few moments, as her reflections -served only to increase her terror, she rose and opened another door of -her chamber which opened on an outer gallery, or rather a dilapidated -corridor sheltered by an awning, and ending in a staircase which served -as a means of communication between her room and those of the other -occupants of the house. Mila had never opened that door at night, but -this time she went out on the gallery, having fully determined to seek -refuge with her father and to sit in his chamber until daylight. -</p> -<p> -But she had barely taken three steps when a new cause of alarm brought -her to a standstill. A man was leaning against the wall of the gallery -as motionless as a robber on the watch. -</p> -<p> -She was about to fly, when a voice said in a whisper: "Is that you, -Mila?" And as the man walked toward her she recognized Magnani. -</p> -<p> -"Don't be afraid," he said. "I am watching here by order of a person who -is dear to you. Doubtless you know why, as you transmitted her message -to me?" -</p> -<p> -"I know that my brother has been in danger this evening," replied the -girl; "but it seems that you are not the only one whom our dear princess -has stationed beside him to defend him. There is another young man in -his room, whom I do not know." -</p> -<p> -"I know it, Mila; but that young man is the very one who is under -suspicion; and I must stand guard as near as possible to the place where -he is sleeping, until he has left the house." -</p> -<p> -"But you are a long way from him!" exclaimed Mila, in dismay, "and my -brother might be murdered and you not hear it from here." -</p> -<p> -"But what am I to do?" replied Magnani. "I could not get any nearer to -his room. He took pains to lock the door at the foot of the other -staircase. So I am here; and I have my eyes and ears open, I assure -you!" -</p> -<p> -"I will watch, too," said the girl, resolutely, "and you can sit up with -me, Magnani. Come into my room. Even though people should speak ill of -us, if we were seen, even if my father and brother should scold me -severely, it makes no difference to me! I am only afraid of the man who is -locked into Michel's room with him, or alone—for they put a mattress -against my door, and I cannot find out whether Michel is really there. I -am afraid for Michel; I am afraid for myself." -</p> -<p> -And she told how the bandit had entered her room when Michel was -apparently not there to oppose his entrance. -</p> -<p> -Magnani, being unable to explain such an extraordinary occurrence, -accepted Mila's suggestion without hesitation. He entered her room, -leaving the door of the gallery ajar, in order that he might retire -unseen if need were, but all ready to burst in Michel's door at the -slightest alarming noise. -</p> -<p> -When he had listened coolly and cautiously, with his eye and ear glued -to the partition, he said to Mila, beckoning her to the side of the room -farthest from the door, and speaking very low: -</p> -<p> -"Set your mind at rest; they are not so well barricaded that I could not -see Michel sitting at his table, apparently deep in meditation. I could -not make out the other one, but I promise you that they cannot make a -movement which I shall not hear, and that their bolt will not hold a -second against my fist. I am armed; so don't be afraid any more, my dear -Mila." -</p> -<p> -"No, no, I am not afraid," she said. "Since you have been here, I have -recovered the use of my mind. Before you came, I was like a madwoman; I -neither saw nor heard anything except through a veil. Have you had no -accident, run no risk yourself to-night, Magnani?" -</p> -<p> -"None at all; but what are you looking for, Mila? You will make a noise -fumbling in that drawer." -</p> -<p> -"No, no," she said. "I am getting a weapon too, for I feel as brave as a -lion with you." -</p> -<p> -And she held up an ebony spindle, carved and mounted in silver, the -stout, sharp point of which might at need serve the purpose of a -stiletto. -</p> -<p> -"When our dear princess gave me this to-day," she said, "she had no -suspicion that I might perhaps use it to defend my brother. But tell me, -Magnani, how did the princess receive you, and how did she explain these -mysteries which are happening all about us, and which I do not -understand at all? We can safely talk here in this doorway; no one will -hear us and it will help to make the time seem shorter and less dull." -</p> -<p> -She sat down on the step outside the door that opened on the gallery. -Magnani sat beside her, ready to fly if any inquisitive individual -should approach, ready to show himself if Michel's guest made any sign -of hostility. They talked in very low tones, and their whispered words -expired in the open air, nor did either of the two become so engrossed -as to fail to pause and listen intently at the slightest sound. -</p> -<p> -When Magnani had told Mila what little he knew, she lost herself in vain -conjectures as to the identity of that handsome young man, whose -expression was at once sweet and fear-inspiring, who styled himself, -when speaking with her, the friend of the family, and of whom the -princess had said to Magnani: "He is either our savior or our -enemy."—And, when Magnani urged her not to try to fathom a secret -which the princess and her family apparently deemed it necessary to conceal -from her, she replied: "Do not think that I am consumed by silly -childish curiosity! No, I have not that wretched failing. But I have -been afraid all day long, and yet I am not timid, either. Something -incomprehensible is going on about me, and I, too, believe that I am -threatened by enemies whom I do not know. I do not dare to mention the -subject to my father or to the princess; I am afraid that if they -undertake to look out for me, too, they will neglect a part of the -precautions demanded by their own safety. But I must think about -defending myself; to-morrow, when you go to your work and my father and -brother have gone out, I shall begin to tremble again for them, for you -and for my self." -</p> -<p> -"I shall not go to work to-morrow, Mila," said Magnani. "The princess -ordered me not to leave your brother, whether he remains at home or goes -out. She did not mention you, which fact makes me almost certain that -you are not included in the secret persecution at which she has taken -fright. But, whatever happens, I shall not stir from here, without -having made sure that no one can come and frighten you." -</p> -<p> -"Listen," she said, "I am going to tell you what happened to me to-day. -You know that we often have in our yard some of those begging brothers, -who annoy everybody, even the poor people, and whom you cannot get rid -of without giving them something. Well, one of them came just after -Michel and my father had left the house, and I never saw a monk so -persistent, and so bold, and so inquisitive. Just fancy that, when he -saw me working at my window, he took up his station just below it, and -there he stood, staring at me with a gaze that embarrassed me, although -I tried not to meet his eyes. I tossed him some bread in order to get -rid of him. He didn't condescend to pick it up. 'Young woman,' he said, -'that is not the way people give alms to a brother of my order. They -take the trouble to go downstairs to him and to commend themselves to -his prayers, instead of tossing him a crust as if he were a dog. You are -not a pious maid, and your parents have brought you up badly. I am sure -that you are not a native?' -</p> -<p> -"I made the mistake of answering him. He had put me in a bad humor with -his sermon, and he was so ugly, so dirty, so insolent, that I could not -help exhibiting my disgust. It seemed to me that I recognized him as a -man I had seen in the morning at the Palmarosa palace. My brother was -disturbed by his face at that time, and questioned my uncle Fra Angelo -about him. He sent us away in haste, promising to find out who he was, -for he did not recognize him as a Capuchin, and my father said that he -resembled a certain Abbé Ninfo, who bears us a grudge, apparently. -However, either it was not the same man, or else he had changed his -disguise; for he wore the costume of a bare-footed Carmelite when he -came here; and, instead of a thick, curly black beard, he had a red -beard, as short and stiff as a wild boar's hair. He was even more -horrible in that dress, and if it was not the same man, why, I can -safely say that I have seen to-day the two most repulsive monks in -Valdemona." -</p> -<p> -"And you were imprudent enough to talk with him?" said Magnani. -</p> -<p> -"Talk is not the word; I requested him to carry his preaching somewhere -else, saying that I had no time to go down to him or to listen to his -reprimands; that, if he did not consider my alms worthy of his -acceptance, he could give it to the first poor person he met, and that, -if he was born proud, he had made a great mistake in becoming a -mendicant." -</p> -<p> -"Doubtless he was irritated by your replies?" -</p> -<p> -"No, for if I had seen that he was mortified or angry, charity or -prudence would have kept me from saying so much. But, instead of -continuing to scold me, he began to smile; a ghastly sort of smile, to -be sure, but not resentful. -</p> -<p> -"'You are an amusing child,' he said, 'and I forgive your lack of -propriety because of your wit and your black eyes.' -</p> -<p> -"I ask you if it was not very wicked for a monk to pay any attention to -the color of my eyes? I told him that he might stay a year under my -window before I would look to see what color his were. He called me a -flirt; a strange word, isn't it, in the mouth of a man who ought not -even to know that there is such a word? I closed my window, but when I -opened it a quarter of an hour later, being unable to endure the -stifling heat in my room when the sun is high, he was still looking at -me. I refused to talk to him any more. He told me that he would stay -there until I gave him something better than bread; that he knew that I -wasn't a poor girl; that I had a beautiful pin of chased gold in my -hair, and that he would gladly accept that, unless I preferred to give -him a lock of hair in its place. And he followed that up with such -absurd and extravagant compliments that I believed and still believe he -was laughing at me, and that it was his spiteful and unseemly way of -venting his anger. -</p> -<p> -"As there were people in the house, particularly your father and one of -your brothers, whom I could see working in their rooms within reach of -my voice, I was not alarmed by that wretched monk's strange remarks and -impertinent glances; I answered only by making fun of him, and, to get -rid of him, I promised to give him something on condition that he would -go away at once. He declared that he had the right to accept or refuse -my offering, and that, if I would let him choose, he would be very -modest and would not ruin me.—'What do you want,' I said, 'a skein -of silk to mend your ragged frock?'—'No,' he replied, 'it's too -badly spun.'—'Do you want my scissors to cut your beard, which is -growing all awry?'—'No, for I might perhaps use it to cut off the -rosy tip of that impertinent little tongue.'—'A needle, then, to -sew up your mouth, which doesn't know what it says?'—'No, for I am -afraid that your needle has no sharper point than your epigrams.' -</p> -<p> -"We jested thus for some time; although he annoyed me, he made me laugh; -for it seemed to me that his manner had become more fatherly than -threatening, that he was really a monk, one of those persistent jokers -such as we all know, who obtain by teasing what they cannot extort by -prayer; and lastly, I discovered that he was very bright, and I did not -put a stop to that childish badinage so soon as I should have done. I -took from the wall a little mirror about the size of my hand, of no -value, which he had noticed hanging by my window, as to which he asked -me how many hours a day I passed consulting it. I lowered it to him by a -silk thread, saying that he would certainly enjoy looking at himself in -it much more than I had enjoyed having his face before my eyes so long. -</p> -<p> -"He seized it eagerly and kissed it, exclaiming in a tone which -frightened me: 'Has it retained a reflection of your beauty, O dangerous -maiden? Just a reflection! that is very little, but if I could fix it -there, I would never take my lips from it.' -</p> -<p> -"'Fie!' I said, drawing back from the window, 'those words dishonor the -frock you wear, and such jesting does not befit a monk.' -</p> -<p> -"I closed my window again and came to this door where we are now, and -opened it so that I could breathe while I worked. But I had not been -there five minutes when I saw the Capuchin before me. He had presumed to -enter the house, I don't know how; for I had locked the outer door, and -he must either have been prowling around in the adjoining house, or have -known all the ins and outs of this one.—'Go away,' I said to him; 'no -one has a right to enter a house in this way, and if you come near my -door, I will call my father and brother, who are in the next room.' -</p> -<p> -"'I know perfectly well that they are not there,' he replied, with a -hateful laugh, 'and as for the neighbors, it would do no good to call -them, for I should be far away before they could get here. What makes -you afraid of me, young woman? I only wanted to have a nearer view of -your soft eyes and your red lips; Raphael's Madonna is a mere -maid-servant compared with you. Come, don't be afraid of me'—and, -as he spoke, he held the door open, which I tried to shut in his -face.—'I would give my life for a kiss from you; but if you refuse -me that, give me at least the rose that perfumes your breast; I shall -die of joy dreaming that ——' -</p> -<p> -"I heard no more, for he had let the door go and tried to seize me in -his arms. In spite of my terror, I had more presence of mind than he -expected; for I stepped quickly to one side, slammed the door in his -face, and as he was a little bewildered by the blow, I took advantage of -it to run through Michel's room. I ran downstairs at the top of my -speed, and didn't stop until I was in the street, for there was no -neighbor near enough to depend upon. When I was among the people in the -street, I was no longer afraid of the monk, but I wouldn't have come -back to my room for anything on earth. I walked to Villa Palmarosa, and -didn't feel entirely at ease until the princess had taken me into her -room. I passed the rest of the day there, and did not come home until -father was ready. But I dared not say anything about what had happened, -for the reason I have given you—and if I must be entirely frank, -because I felt that I had been imprudent to joke with that wretched -begging monk, and that I deserved some blame for it. A rebuke from my -father would almost kill me; but from Princess Agatha—why, I would -rather be damned at once and forever!'" -</p> -<p> -"Dear child, as you are so afraid of reproaches, I will keep your -secret," said Magnani, "and I will not venture to make the slightest -comment." -</p> -<p> -"On the contrary, I beg you to comment as severely as you please, -Magnani. It will not humiliate me from you. I am not presumptuous enough -to think that you like me, and I know that my childish faults will not -cause you the slightest distress. It is because I know how dearly my -father and Princess Agatha love me that I dread so to grieve them. But -you can say whatever you please to me, for you will simply laugh at my -foolishness." -</p> -<p> -"So you think me very indifferent, do you?" said Magnani, upon whom this -story of the monk had had a singularly disquieting and disturbing -effect. -</p> -<p> -Then, surprised at the question that had escaped him, he rose and went -on tiptoe to listen at Michel's door. He thought that he could hear the -regular breathing of a sleeping person. The Piccinino had in fact -succeeded finally in allaying the tumult of his thoughts, and Michel, -overcome by weariness, was dozing in his chair, with his head resting on -his hands. -</p> -<p> -Magnani returned to Mila; but he dared not sit beside her again. "And I -too," he thought, ashamed, and as it were, afraid of himself, "I am a -monk consumed by my imagination and excited by enforced continence. This -child is too lovely, too pure, too trustful, to live thus the -untrammelled neglected life of girls of our station; no one can look at -her without emotion, whether he be a monk doomed to celibacy or a man -hopelessly in love with another woman. I would like to have my hands on -that vile monk and break his neck; and yet I too quiver at the thought -that this unsuspecting maiden is in this room, alone with me, in the -silence of night, ready to seek shelter in my arms at the slightest -alarm!" -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap31"></a>XXXI -<br><br> -WITCHCRAFT -</h4> - -<p> -Magnani tried to divert his thoughts by talking of the princess with -Mila. The innocent girl lured him into it, and he accepted that subject -of conversation as a preservative. It will be seen that a strange -revolution had taken place in two days in the young man's mental -condition, since he had already reached the point of looking upon his -love for Agatha as a duty, or as what the doctors call a depurative. -</p> -<p> -If he had been certain that the princess loved Michel, of which fact he -was persuaded at times, with a feeling of utter stupefaction, he would -have been almost entirely cured of his own mad passion. For he had given -it so exalted a place in his thoughts that, as he had lost hope, so he -had almost reached the point where he desired nothing. His passion had -become a sort of pious habit, so ideal that it no longer touched the -earth, and that by returning it, Agatha might have destroyed it -instantly. Assume that she loved any man on earth, even the man who -cherished so exalted an adoration for her, and she became in his eyes -simply a woman, whose influence he could combat. That was the result of -five years' suffering without the slightest presumption, and without a -moment's intermission. In a heart of such strength and purity, the -utmost order had prevailed amid the effervescence of a passion which -resembled a beginning of madness; and it was precisely that circumstance -which might be Magnani's salvation. Efforts to deaden his pain would -have served only to excite him more, and after indulging in vulgar -pleasures, he would have returned to his chimera with more suffering and -more weakness; whereas by abandoning himself without resistance, without -desire for repose, and without terror, to a martyrdom which might be -everlasting, he had allowed the flame to become concentrated in one -spot, where it burned dully, not fanned from without, and deprived of -any fresh sustenance. -</p> -<p> -Thus Magnani had reached that critical moment when a man must be cured -or die, without any transition. He did not appreciate it, but it -certainly was a fact, for his senses were awaking from a long period of -numbness, and Agatha, far from contributing to the awakening, was the -only woman to whom he would have blushed to attribute in his thoughts -the perturbation that he felt. -</p> -<p> -Little by little, he leaned toward the girl in order not to lose a -single one of her words, and he ended by sitting down beside her, and -asking her why it had occurred to her to talk of him with Princess -Agatha. -</p> -<p> -"Why, it is very simple," replied Mila; "she led me to do it by asking -me which of the young mechanics of my acquaintance Michel had been most -intimate with since he had arrived in the island; and as I hesitated -between you and one or two of father's apprentices who assisted Michel, -and whom he seemed to like, the princess herself said: -</p> -<p> -"'Perhaps you are not sure, Mila, but I would be willing to wager that -it is a certain Magnani, who works for me, and of whom I think very -highly. During the ball they sat in my garden together, and I was very -near them—just behind the myrtle bush. I had gone there to rest, and -was almost in hiding, in order to escape for an instant the torture of -such a long performance. I overheard their conversation, which -interested and touched me to the last degree. Your brother has a noble -mind, Mila, but your neighbor Magnani has a great heart. They talked of -art and work, of ambition and duty, of happiness and virtue. I admired -the artist's ideas, but I fell in love with the artisan's sentiments. -For your young brother's sake, I hope that Magnani will always be his -best friend, the confidant of all his thoughts, and his adviser in the -delicate emergencies of his life. You can advise him to that effect from -me, if he happens to mention me to you; and if you tell either of them -that I listened to the sincere outpouring of their thoughts, you will -not fail to tell them also that I was a discreet listener, for there -came a time when Magnani seemed on the point of disclosing to -Michelangelo some personal matter which I did not choose to overhear. I -retired hastily at the first word,'—Is all that accurate, Magnani? Do -you remember the subject of your conversation with Michel in the garden -of the Casino?" -</p> -<p> -"Yes, yes," sighed Magnani, "it is all true; indeed, I noticed when the -princess retired, although it would never have occurred to me that it -was she who was listening to us." -</p> -<p> -"At all events, you ought to be proud of it, Magnani, and very glad of -it, since what you said made her feel so much friendship and esteem for -you. I even thought that I could see that she preferred your way of -thinking to my brother's, and that she looked upon you as the wiser and -better of the two, although she says that she has felt the same motherly -interest in the welfare of both of you from that moment. Couldn't you -repeat to me all the beautiful words which the princess so enjoyed -hearing? I should be very glad to have the benefit of them, for I am a -poor little girl, with whom Michel himself hardly deigns to talk -seriously." -</p> -<p> -"My dear Mila," said Magnani, taking her hand, "honor to the man whom -you consider worthy to form your heart and your mind! But, even if I -could remember all that Michel and I said to each other in that garden, -I should not presume to think that it would benefit you in any way. -Aren't you better than either of us? And as for wit, which of us can -have more than you?" -</p> -<p> -"Oh! now you are laughing at me! Princess Agatha has more than all three -of us together, nor do I think that even my father has any more than she -has. Ah! if you knew her as well as I do, Magnani! Such a head and -heart! such charm! such kindness! I could pass my whole life listening -to her; and, if my father and she would allow it, I would like to be her -servant, although obedience is not my leading characteristic." -</p> -<p> -Magnani was silent for a few moments. He could not succeed in -disentangling his thoughts in his excitement. Hitherto Agatha had seemed -to him so far above all praise that he was indignant and hurt when -anyone ventured to say that she was lovely, charitable and sweet. He -preferred to listen to those who said that she was ugly and mad, when -they did not know her and had never seen her. They at all events said -nothing about her in which there was the slightest sense, whereas the -others praised her too feebly, and annoyed Magnani beyond words by their -inability to comprehend her. But on Mila's lips Agatha lost nothing of -the idea he had formed of her. Only Mila seemed to him pure enough to -utter her name without profaning it, and because she shared his -adoration, she was almost equal to his idol in his eyes. -</p> -<p> -"Dear Mila," he said at last, still holding her hand, which he had -forgotten to give back to her, "to love and to understand as you do -indicates a great mind. But what did you say about me to the princess? -Ought I not to ask you?" -</p> -<p> -Mila blessed the darkness, which concealed her blushes, and she grew -bolder as a timid woman gradually becomes intoxicated by the assured -impunity of a masquerade. -</p> -<p> -"I am really afraid that it will be indiscreet in me to repeat it to -you," she said, "and I should not dare to do it!" -</p> -<p> -"So you said unkind things about me, did you, naughty Mila?" -</p> -<p> -"No; for Princess Agatha had said so much good of you that it would have -been impossible for me to think any evil of you. I cannot look at -anything except through her eyes. But I let out something which Michel -told me in confidence." -</p> -<p> -"Really? I don't know what you mean." -</p> -<p> -Mila noticed that Magnani's hand trembled. She ventured to strike a -decisive blow. -</p> -<p> -"Well," she said, in an artless, almost indifferent tone, "I told the -princess that you were really very kind, very pleasant and very learned; -but that one had either to know you very well, or else guess at you in -order to find it out!" -</p> -<p> -"Because ——?" -</p> -<p> -"Because you were in love, and that made you so melancholy that you -lived almost entirely alone, buried in meditation." -</p> -<p> -Magnani trembled. -</p> -<p> -"It was Michel who told you that!" he said, in a changed tone that made -Mila's heart bleed. "And doubtless he betrayed my confidence to the -end," he added; "he told you the name——" -</p> -<p> -"Oh! Michel is incapable of betraying anybody's confidence," she -replied, struggling to maintain her courage at the level of the crisis -she had provoked; "and I, Magnani, am incapable of leading my brother on -to such a base thing. Besides, why should I be at all interested, I -should like to know?" -</p> -<p> -"Of course, it must be a matter of entire indifference to you," replied -Magnani, completely crushed. -</p> -<p> -"Indifference is not the word," she said; "I have much esteem and -friendship for you, Magnani, and I pray for your happiness. But I am -interested in my own happiness, too, so that I have no time to be idle -and pry into other people's secrets." -</p> -<p> -"Your happiness! At your age, Mila, happiness is love; so you are in -love, too, are you?" -</p> -<p> -"In love? why not? Do you consider me too young to think about such -things?" -</p> -<p> -"Ah! my dear child, you are at the age when one should think about such -things, for at my age love is despair." -</p> -<p> -"Why, is your love not returned? I was not mistaken in thinking that you -are unhappy?" -</p> -<p> -"No, my love is not returned," he replied, dejectedly, "and never will -be; I have never even dreamed that it would." -</p> -<p> -A more romantic and more experienced woman than Mila might have looked -upon that admission as a definitive obstacle to all hope; but her ideas -of life were more simple and more logical: "If he has no hope, he will -recover," she thought. -</p> -<p> -"I pity you deeply," she said to Magnani, "for it is such great -happiness to feel that one is loved, and it must be so ghastly to love -all by oneself!" -</p> -<p> -"You will never know such a misfortune," Magnani replied; "and the man -you love should be the most grateful and the proudest of men!" -</p> -<p> -"I am satisfied with him," she said, gratified to feel that jealousy was -beginning to make itself felt in the young man's perturbed heart; "but -listen, Magnani! there is a noise in my brother's room." -</p> -<p> -Magnani ran to the other door; but, while he was making vain efforts to -distinguish the nature of the noises Mila had heard, she heard other -noises in the yard. She looked through the blind, and, beckoning to -Magnani, pointed out to him Michel's mysterious guest, who was gliding -toward the street so lightly and adroitly, that unless one had a -delicate ear and keen eye and was on the alert, expecting to see him, it -would have been impossible to detect his movements. -</p> -<p> -Even Michel had not been roused from the light doze into which he had -fallen. -</p> -<p> -Mila was still very ill at ease, although Magnani urged her to take some -rest, promising that he would remain in the yard or in the gallery, and -that Michel should not leave the house without him. As soon as Magnani -had left her, she fell upon a chair and drew her table noisily along the -floor, so that she might hear Michel wake and move about in his turn. -</p> -<p> -The young man soon entered her room, after noticing with amazement that -the Piccinino's light body had left little more impression on his bed -than if he had been a spectre. He found little Mila still up, and -reproved her for her wilful sleeplessness. But she explained her reasons -for anxiety; and, without mentioning Magnani, for the princess had -enjoined upon her not to let Michel know of his presence, she told him -of the Piccinino's strange and impudent visit to her room. She also told -him something of her experience with the monk, and made him promise that -he would not leave her during the morning, and that, if he were summoned -by the princess later in the day, he would not go out without letting -her know, because she was determined to seek shelter with some friend -and not remain alone in the house. -</p> -<p> -Michel readily agreed. He was utterly unable to understand the bandit's -conduct on that occasion. But we can imagine that such an audacious -performance, taken in connection with the impertinence of the pretended -monk, left him in a decidedly uncomfortable frame of mind. -</p> -<p> -When he returned to his chamber, after barricading the door of the -gallery with his own hands in order to protect his sister against any -fresh attack, he looked about for the cyclamen upon which he had gazed -so sorrowfully as he sat beside his table. But the cyclamen had -disappeared. The Piccinino had noticed that the princess, as on the -evening of the ball, had a bouquet of cyclamen in her hand or close at -hand, and that she seemed to have contracted the habit of playing with -that bouquet even more than with her fan, the inseparable companion of -all the women of the South. He had also noticed that Michel treasured -one of those flowers, and that he had drawn it toward his face several -times, then hastily pushed it away, during the first agitated moments of -his vigil. He had divined the mysterious charm attached to that plant, -and before leaving the room he had maliciously taken it from the glass -upon which Michel's inert hand still rested. He threw the little flower -into the sheath of his dagger, saying to himself: "If I stab anyone -to-day, perhaps this memento of the lady of my thoughts will remain in -the wound." -</p> -<p> -Michel tried to follow the Piccinino's example, that is to say, to -recover his lucidity of thought by enjoying an hour or two of real -sleep. He had insisted that Mila should go to bed, and, in order to make -surer that she was adequately guarded, he left the door open between -their rooms. He slept heavily, as young men of his age do, but his sleep -was disturbed by confused and distressing dreams, an inevitable -consequence of his present position. When he woke, shortly after -daylight, he tried to collect his thoughts, and first of all he looked -to see if he had not dreamed of the abstraction of the precious -cyclamen. -</p> -<p> -His surprise was unbounded when he saw that the glass, empty when he -fell asleep, was filled with freshly gathered cyclamens. -</p> -<p> -"Mila," he said, seeing that his sister was already up and dressed, "you -have cheerful and poetic ideas, I see, despite our anxieties and -dangers. These flowers are almost as lovely as you; but they can never -replace the one I have lost." -</p> -<p> -"You imagined," she said, "that I had taken it or tipped over the glass -after your extraordinary friend went away; you almost scolded me, and -you refused to remember that I had never so much as thought of putting -my foot inside your <i>mysterious</i> chamber! Now, you accuse me of -replacing it with others, which is no less absurd; for where could I -have got them? Am I not barricaded on the gallery side? Haven't you my -key under your pillow? Unless, indeed, these pretty little flowers grow -on my pillow, which is possible—in a dream." -</p> -<p> -"Mila, you persist in jesting on all subjects and at all seasons. You -may have had this bouquet last night. Weren't you at Villa Palmarosa in -the afternoon?" -</p> -<p> -"For heaven's sake, don't these flowers grow anywhere but in Princess -Agatha's boudoir? I understand now why you are so fond of them. Where, -pray, did you pick the one that you looked for so long this morning, -instead of going straight to bed?" -</p> -<p> -"I picked it in my hair, little one, and I believe that my brains left -my head with it." -</p> -<p> -"Ah! very good; now I understand why you talk nonsense." -</p> -<p> -Michel could find out nothing more. Mila was as calm and smiling when -she woke as she had been disturbed and fearful when she fell asleep. He -obtained nothing from her but quips of the sort in which she was -proficient, always possessed of some metaphorical meaning, and instinct -with a sort of childish charm. -</p> -<p> -She asked him for the key of her room, and while he was dressing, lost -in thought, she attended to her household duties with her usual activity -and lightness of heart. She flew about the corridors and stairways, -singing like the morning lark. Michel, as melancholy as the winter sun -on the ice-fields at the pole, heard the floors creaking under her agile -feet, heard her merry laugh as she received her father's kiss on the -floor below, heard her ascend the stairs to her room, like a well-aimed -arrow, then go down again to the fountain to fill the graceful earthen -jugs, which are made at Siacca, after Moorish models, and are commonly -used by the people of those regions; heard her salute the neighbors with -kindly pleasantries, and play with the half naked children who were -already beginning to roll about on the flagstones in the yard. -</p> -<p> -Pier-Angelo was also dressing, more rapidly and in more cheerful mood -than Michel. Like Mila, he sang, but in a deeper and more martial voice, -as he shook his brown, red-lined jacket. He was interrupted at times by -a lingering remnant of drowsiness, and yawned over the words of his -ballads, then finished the refrain triumphantly. That was his way of -waking, and he never sang better, in his own ears, than when his voice -failed him. -</p> -<p> -"Happy heedlessness of truly popular natures!" said Michel to himself, -as he leaned on his window-sill, half-dressed. "One would say that -nothing unusual was taking place in my family, that we were not -surrounded by enemies and snares; that my sister slept as usual last -night, that she knows nothing of love without hope, of the danger of -being beautiful and poor in view of the schemes of vicious minds, and of -the other danger that she may be deprived at any moment of her natural -protectors. My father, who must know everything, acts as if he suspected -nothing. In this wretched climate everything is forgotten or takes on an -entirely different aspect in the twinkling of an eye. The volcano, -tyranny, persecution—nothing interrupts the songs and laughter. At -noon, overwhelmed by the heat, they all sleep and seem like corpses. The -cool evening air revives them like vigorous plants. Terror and rashness, -grief and joy, succeed one another with them like the waves on the -shore. Let one of the chords of the heart be relaxed, and twenty others -wake to new life, just as the taking of a flower from a glass of water -causes a whole bouquet to appear there! I alone, amid these -incomprehensible transformations, am always on the alert, but always -serious; my thoughts are always lucid, but always gloomy. Ah! would that -I had remained the child of my caste and the man of my native land!" -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap32"></a>XXXII -<br><br> -THE ESCALADE -</h4> - -<p> -The group of houses of which Michel's formed a part was shabby and ugly -in reality, but exceedingly picturesque. Built upon blocks of lava, and -in part constructed of the same lava, those rough structures bore traces -of the last earthquakes which had overturned them. The lower floors, -which were bolted to the solid rock, retained an unmistakable flavor of -antiquity; and the upper portions, erected in haste after the disaster, -or already shaken by later shocks, even now had a decrepit look: huge -cracks, roofs with a threatening pitch, and dangerous staircases, the -rails of which were all awry. Wild vines inextricably tangled about the -ragged protuberances of cornices and awnings, prickly aloes, crushing by -their weight the old terra-cotta urns, and encroaching with their rough -branches upon the little terraces which hovered in the most insane way -upon the highest points of those tumble-down buildings; white linen, or -garments of gaudy hue hanging from all the windows, or flying about like -banners on lines stretched from house to house: all this formed a -strange, bold picture. One could see children playing and women working -almost among the clouds, on narrow platforms surrounded by pigeons and -swallows, and barely protected, away up there in space, by a few black, -worm-eaten rails, which it seemed that the first gust of wind would blow -away. The slightest change of level in that volcanic soil, the slightest -convulsion in that gorgeous but ill-omened landscape, and the torpid or -reckless occupants of those houses would be engulfed in a raging hell, -or swept away as the leaves are by the tempest. -</p> -<p> -But danger acts upon men's minds in proportion to its distance. In the -midst of actual security, the idea of a catastrophe presents itself -under terror-inspiring colors. When one is born, breathes and lives in -the midst of actual danger, under a never-ceasing threat, the -imagination becomes deadened, fear loses its keen edge, and there ensues -a strange repose of mind which resembles torpor rather than courage. -</p> -<p> -Although the picture we have described possessed a genuine poetic charm, -in its very shabbiness and its disorder, Michel had not yet detected it. -He had passed his childhood at Rome, in houses more solidly constructed -at all events and of a neater aspect, if not more sumptuous, and his -thoughts always aspired to the splendor of palaces. His father's abode, -that hovel in which Pier-Angelo had lived ever since his childhood, and -to which he had returned with so much love in his heart, seemed to young -Michel nothing more than a pestiferous den which he would have been glad -to see return to the lava from which it had come forth. In vain did -Mila, in marked contrast to her neighbors, keep their little quarters -almost fastidiously neat and clean. In vain was their staircase -embellished with the loveliest flowers. In vain did the bright morning -sun draw broad lines of gold athwart the shadows of the black lava and -upon the heavy arches of the recessed portions of the building. Michel -thought of nothing but the grotto of the naiad, the marble fountains of -the Palmarosa palace, and the porch where Agatha had appeared to him -like a goddess in the doorway of her temple. -</p> -<p> -At last, after bestowing one regretful thought upon his recent chimera, -he was ashamed of his dejection. "I came to this country, when my father -hadn't sent for me," he said to himself, "and my uncle the monk -convinced me that I must submit to the drawbacks of my position and -accept its duties. I subjected myself to a most severe test when I -turned my back upon Rome and the hope of glory to become an obscure -workingman in Sicily. The test would have been too mild and too short -if, at the outset, being loved or admired at first sight by a great and -noble lady, I had had only to stoop and pick up laurel crowns and -piastres. Instead of that, I must be a good son and a good brother, and, -moreover, a stout-hearted man, to defend at need the honor of my family. -I am well assured that the signora's esteem and my own, perhaps, can be -had only at that price. Very well, I will accept my destiny cheerfully, -and learn to endure without regret what my nearest and dearest endure so -courageously. I will be a man in advance of my years, and lay aside the -overpetted personality of my youth. If I have anything to blush for, it -is for having been a spoiled child so long, and for having failed to see -that it would soon be my duty to assist and protect those who devoted -themselves to me so unselfishly." -</p> -<p> -This determination restored peace to his heart. His father's songs and -little Mila's seemed to him the sweetest of melodies. -</p> -<p> -"Yes, yes," he said to himself, "sing on, happy birds of the South, pure -as the sky that looked down upon your birth! This merriment is the -indication of a perfectly clear conscience, and laughter well befits -you, who have never had an idea of evil! Ah! my old father's dear old -ballads, which have allayed the anxieties of his life and lessened the -fatigue of his labor—I should listen to them with respect instead of -smiling at their simplicity! And my young sister's merry laughter I -should welcome with affectionate delight as a proof of her courage and -her innocence! Away with my selfish dreams and my unfeeling curiosity! I -will go through the storm with you, and will enjoy as you do a burst of -sunlight between two clouds. My careworn brow is an insult to your -candor—black ingratitude for your kindness. I propose to be your -staff in distress, your comrade in toil, and your boon companion in joy! -</p> -<p> -"Sweet and melancholy flowers," he added, stooping fondly over the -bouquet of cyclamen, "whatever hand plucked you, whatever the sentiment -of which you are a pledge, my breath, aflame with evil desires, shall -sully you no more. If I sometimes lay bare my heart, as you do, I pray -that it may be as pure as your calices; and if it bleeds, as you seem to -bleed, I pray that virtue may exhale from its wounds, even as fragrance -exhales from your bosom." -</p> -<p> -Immediately after forming these excellent resolutions, made more -seductive by this vein of poetic imagery, young Michel completed his -toilet without further dallying, and made haste to join his father, who -was already at work mixing colors to <i>patch</i> the paint at Villa -Palmarosa in many places where it had been marred by the chandeliers and -decorations of the ball. -</p> -<p> -"Here," said the goodman, handing him a large purse of Tunisian silk, -filled with gold pieces; "here is the pay for your beautiful ceiling." -</p> -<p> -"It is too much by half," said Michel, examining the beautifully -embroidered and shaded purse with much more interest than its contents. -"Our debt to the princess is not yet discharged, and I propose that it -shall be this very day." -</p> -<p> -"It is, my child." -</p> -<p> -"Then it must have been paid out of your wages, not out of mine. For if -I know how to estimate the contents of a purse, there is more here than -I propose to accept. Father, I do not propose that you shall work for -me. No, I swear by your gray hairs that you shall never work for your -son again, for it is his turn to work for you. Nor do I intend to accept -alms from Princess Agatha; I have had enough of such patronage and -generosity." -</p> -<p> -"You know me well enough," replied Pier-Angelo, with a smile, "to -believe that, far from interfering with your pride and your dutiful -sentiments, I shall always encourage them. Take my advice, therefore, -and accept this money. It is honestly yours; it costs me nothing, and -the person who gives it to you is at liberty to place what estimate she -pleases on the merits of your work. That is the difference that there -will always be between you and your father, Michel. An artist has no -fixed price. A single day of inspiration may make him rich. Whereas, a -deal of hard work is not enough to raise us mechanics out of the slough -of poverty. But God, in His mercy, has given us compensations. The -artist conceives and brings forth his works with much pain. The mechanic -performs his task with laughter and a song. I am so accustomed to that, -that I wouldn't exchange my trade for yours." -</p> -<p> -"Let me at least derive from mine such pleasure as it is capable of -affording me," said Michel. "Take this purse, father, and let nothing -ever be taken from it for my use. It is my sister's marriage portion; it -is the interest on the money she lent me when I was at Rome; and if I -never earn enough to make her richer, let her at least have the benefit -of my day of success. O father!" he cried, seeing that Pier-Angelo was -unwilling to accept his sacrifice, "do not refuse me; you will break my -heart! Your blind affection has almost corrupted my nature. Help me to -cease to be the selfish creature that you would have made me. Encourage -my good impulses, instead of robbing me of their fruit. It comes only -too late." -</p> -<p> -"True, my boy, I ought to do it," said Pier-Angelo, deeply touched; "but -consider that this is no mere commonplace sacrifice of money that you -propose to make. If it were simply a matter of depriving yourself of -some little pleasure, it would be of little consequence, and I should -not hesitate. But your artistic future, the cultivation of your -intellect, the very essence of your life, are contained in this little -silk net! It means a year of study in Rome! And who knows when you will -be able to earn as much more? Perhaps the princess won't give any more -balls. The other nobles are neither so rich nor so generous as she. Such -opportunities are not often met with, and are very likely not to happen -twice in a lifetime. I am growing old; I may fall from my ladder -to-morrow and cripple myself; then how would you resume the life of an -artist? Aren't you at all alarmed at the idea that, for the pleasure of -giving your sister a marriage portion, you run the risk of becoming a -mechanic again, and remaining a mechanic all your life?" -</p> -<p> -"So be it!" exclaimed Michel; "that no longer frightens me, father. I -have reflected. It seems to me that there is as much honor and pleasure -in being a mechanic as in being rich and proud. I love Sicily! Is it not -my native land? I do not propose to leave my sister again. She needs a -protector until she is married, and I propose that she shall be able to -make her choice deliberately. You are old, you say! you may be crippled -to-morrow! Well then! who would take care of you, pray,—who would -support you, who would comfort you,—if I were away? Would it be -possible for my sister to do it when she has a family of her own? A -son-in-law? but why should I leave it for another to fulfill my duties? -Why should he steal my honor and my glory? for this is wherein I choose -to establish them henceforth, and my chimeras have given place to -reality. Tell me, father, am not I, too, in a cheerful mood this -morning? Would you like me to sing a second to the old ballad you were -singing just now? Do I seem to you to have the despairing look of a man -who is sacrificing himself? Do you not love me, I pray to know, that you -refuse to be my employer?" -</p> -<p> -"Very well!" replied Pier-Angelo, gazing at him with glistening eyes, -and with a trembling of the hands that indicated extraordinary emotion. -"You are a man of heart! and I shall never regret what I have done for -you!" -</p> -<p> -As he spoke, Pier-Angelo removed his cap, uncovering his bald head, and -stood erect in the attitude, at once proud and respectful, of an old -soldier before his young officer. It was the first time in his life that -he had adopted the more formal mode of address with Michel,<a id="FNanchor_7_1" href="FNanchor_7_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_1" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> and that -change, which might have seemed to denote coldness and dissatisfaction -in other fathers, assumed in his mouth a peculiarly affectionate and -majestic meaning. It seemed to the young painter that he had been hailed -as a man by his father at last, and that that form of address—that -uncovered head and those few calm and serious words—rewarded and -honored him more abundantly than the most eloquent academic eulogy. -</p> -<p> -While they worked together, Mila busied herself preparing their -breakfast. She went back and forth from one room to another, but passed -more frequently than was absolutely necessary along the gallery of which -we have spoken. She had a secret reason for this. Magnani's chamber, -which, to tell the truth, was only a wretched garret with a window in -which there was no glass—the warm climate making that luxury -unnecessary for people in good health—was at the corner of the house -nearest to the gallery, and by leaning over the rail one could talk with -a person who happened to be sitting at the window of that modest -apartment. Magnani was not in his room; he only passed the night there, -and at daylight went to his work elsewhere, or worked out-of-doors on -the gallery opposite the one on which Mila often sat at her work. From -there she could watch him without looking at him, for hours at a time, -and not lose a single one of his movements, although she did not seem to -lift her eyes from her work. -</p> -<p> -But on this morning she walked back and forth to no purpose. He was not -on the gallery, although he had promised her, as well as the princess, -not to go away from home. Had he allowed himself to be overcome by -sleep, after two sleepless nights? That was hardly consistent with what -she knew of his stoical determination and of his inexhaustible strength. -Doubtless he was breakfasting with his parents. But Mila, who had -stopped more than once to listen to the tumultuous voices of the Magnani -family, could not distinguish the grave, manly tones which she knew so -well. -</p> -<p> -She looked at the window of his garret. The room was dark and empty as -usual. Magnani had no luxurious habits as Michel had, and he had always -crushed within himself any craving for refinement in his surroundings. -Whereas Pier-Angelo and his daughter, in anticipation of the cardinal's -death and the young painter's arrival, had made ready for that beloved -child a neat, clean, airy attic chamber, furnished with the best that -they could spare from their own furniture, Magnani slept on a rug thrown -on the floor by his window, to make the most of the little air which -could find its way in through that loophole, recessed as it was between -two walls. The only embellishment which he had introduced consisted of a -box which he had placed on the outer edge of that yawning aperture, and -in which he had sown a few pretty convolvuli which formed a frame of -fresh flowers for the window. -</p> -<p> -He watered them every day; but during the last forty-eight hours he had -been so engrossed that he had forgotten them; the pretty white bells had -closed and drooped languidly upon their half-withered leaves. -</p> -<p> -Mila, carrying one of her earthen jugs perched lightly on her head, an -enormous braid of hair thrice twisted acting as a cushion, noticed that -her neighbor's convolvuli were dying of thirst; that would have afforded -a pretext for speaking to him if he had been anywhere about; but there -was nobody in that retired and sheltered corner. Mila tried, by -stretching her arm over the rail, to reach the poor plants and give them -a few drops of water. But her arm was too short, and the jug did not -reach the box. Children cannot bear the impossible, and when they have -undertaken a thing they go on with it at the peril of their lives. How -many times have we climbed upon a window to reach a swallow's nest, and -counted with the tips of our fingers the little warm eggs on their bed -of down! -</p> -<p> -Little Mila spied a stout branch of grapevine which hung along the wall -like a bell-rope and was twisted about the rail of the gallery. To climb -over the rail and cling to the vine did not seem to her very difficult. -In this way she reached the window. But, as she raised her lovely arm to -water the convolvuli, a strong hand seized her slender wrist, and a -brown face, wearing a smile that displayed two rows of large white -teeth, stooped toward hers. -</p> -<p> -Magnani, not wishing to sleep, nor, on the other hand, to seem to be -watching what was taking place in the house, as Agatha had ordered, had -lain down on his rug to rest his weary limbs. But his mind and his eyes -were wide open, and, at every risk, he had seized that stealthy arm -whose shadow passed across his face. -</p> -<p> -"Let me go, Magnani," said the girl, more deeply moved by the meeting -than by the risk she might be incurring; "you will throw me down! this -vine is giving way under me." -</p> -<p> -"Throw you down, my dear child!" replied the young man, passing a -powerful arm about her waist. "Unless this arm is cut off, and then the -other, you shall never fall!" -</p> -<p> -"Never? that is saying a good deal, for I love to climb, and you won't -always be with me." -</p> -<p> -"Happy the man who will be with you always and everywhere, sweet little -Mila! But what are you doing here with the birds?" -</p> -<p> -"I saw from my window that this lovely plant was thirsty. See how its -pretty head droops and how its leaves are falling. I thought that you -were not here, and I was going to give the poor roots something to -drink. Here is the jug. You can bring it back to me by and by. I am -going back to my work." -</p> -<p> -"Already, Mila?" -</p> -<p> -"Especially as I am very uncomfortable perched up here. I have had -enough of it. Let me go, so that I can return the way I came." -</p> -<p> -"No, no, it is too dangerous. The vine is bending, and my arms aren't -long enough to hold you till you reach the gallery. Let me lift you in -here, Mila, and then you can go out through my chamber." -</p> -<p> -"I can't do that, Magnani; the neighbors would say unkind things of me, -if they saw me go into your room either by the window or by the door." -</p> -<p> -"Very well, stay there, hold on tight; I will come out through the -window and help you to go back." -</p> -<p> -But it was too late: the vine suddenly gave way; Mila shrieked, and if -Magnani had not grasped her with both hands and seated her on the edge -of the window, crushing his dear convolvuli a little in the act, she -would have fallen. -</p> -<p> -"Now," he said, "my imprudent young lady, you cannot go out any other -way than through my room. Come in quickly, for I hear steps under the -gallery, and no one has seen you yet." -</p> -<p> -He drew her hastily into his poor room, and she walked to the door as -swiftly as she had come in through the window; but the door was ajar, -and as she looked out she saw that the door of the cobbler's room on the -same landing was wide open, and that the cobbler himself, the most -evil-tongued of all the neighbors, was sitting there, singing over his -work, so that it was impossible to go out without exposing herself to -his unpleasant witticisms. -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="nind"><a id="Footnote_7_1" href="Footnote_7_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_1"><span class="label">[7]</span></a>That is to say, had called him <i>you</i> instead of <i>thou</i>.</p></div> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap33"></a>XXXIII -<br><br> -THE RING -</h4> - -<p> -"There!" said the girl, closing the door with a touch of vexation, "the -evil spirit has a grudge against me! Just because I took it into my head -to water a poor flower, I am in danger of being torn to pieces by evil -tongues and scolded by my father—and above all by Michel, who is -such a tease with me!" -</p> -<p> -"Dear child," said Magnani, "people would not dare to speak of you as -they speak of others; you are so different from all the other girls in -our suburb! Everybody loves you and respects you as no one of them will -ever be loved and respected. Besides, as it is on my account—or -rather on account of my poor flowers—that you have run this risk, -you need not have the slightest fear. Woe to the man who dares to speak -ill of you!" -</p> -<p> -"All the same, I shall never dare to pass that horrible cobbler." -</p> -<p> -"You are quite right. It is his breakfast time. His wife has called him -twice already. He will go directly. Wait here a few seconds, perhaps a -minute—especially as I should like to say a word to you, Mila." -</p> -<p> -"What have you to say to me, pray?" she replied, taking a chair which he -offered her, and which was the only one in the room. She was trembling -with violent inward excitement, but she affected a careless air which -her position seemed to impose upon her. It was not that she was afraid -of Magnani; she knew him too well to fear that he would take advantage -of the tête-à-tête; but she feared, more than ever before, that he -would guess the secret of her heart. -</p> -<p> -"I don't know just what I have to say to you," rejoined Magnani. "It -seemed to me that it would be for you to say something to me." -</p> -<p> -"I!" cried proud little Mila, rising. "I have nothing to say to you, I -give you my word, Signor Magnani!" -</p> -<p> -And she was about to leave the room, preferring the gossip of the -neighborhood to the danger of being found out by the man she loved, when -Magnani, surprised by her movement, and observing her sudden flush, -began to suspect the truth. -</p> -<p> -"Dear Mila," he said, placing himself in front of the door, "one -moment's patience, I beg you. Do not let people see you, and do not be -angry with me if I detain you a moment. The consequences of a pure -accident may be very serious to a man who is determined to kill or be -killed to defend the honor of a woman." -</p> -<p> -"In that case, do not speak so loud," said Mila, struck by Magnani's -expression; "for that miserable cobbler may overhear us. I know," she -continued, allowing him to lead her back to her chair, "that you are -brave and generous, and that you would do for me what you would do for -your own sister. But I am not anxious that that should happen, for you -are not my brother, and you cannot justify me by fighting my battles. -People would say all the more evil of me, or else we should be compelled -to marry, which would not suit either of us." -</p> -<p> -Magnani gazed into Mila's black eyes, and, seeing how proud they were, -he speedily renounced the presumptuous idea that had caused him both -fear and pleasure as it flashed through his mind. -</p> -<p> -"I understand perfectly well that you do not love me, my dear Mila," he -said with a sad smile. "I am not lovable, and it would be the most -melancholy thing on earth, after being compromised by me, to pass your -life with such an unsociable being." -</p> -<p> -"That is not what I meant to say," replied the crafty maiden. "I have -much esteem and friendship for you; I have no reason for concealing that -fact from you; but I have an inclination for another. That is why I am -so distressed and tremble so at being shut up in this room with you." -</p> -<p> -"If that is so, Mila," said Magnani, bolting his door and closing the -window-shutter so hastily that he nearly consummated the ruin of his -convolvulus, "let us take all necessary precautions to prevent anyone -knowing that you are here. I swear to you that you shall go out without -anybody suspecting it, though I have to put all the neighbors out of the -way by force—though I have to stand guard until night." -</p> -<p> -Magnani tried to be playful, and imagined that he was very much relieved -to find that he was not called upon to defend himself against Mila's -love; but it saddened him to hear the girl declare her affection for -another, and his candid face expressed, despite his efforts, a painful -disappointment. Had she not previously confessed it to him during their -long vigil, and had she not by that confidence invested him in a certain -sense with the duties of a brother? He was determined to execute -worthily that sacred mission; but how did it happen that a moment before -it had startled him to see her in anger, and why had his heart, -nourished so long upon an insane and bitter passion, felt suddenly -revivified and rejuvenated by the unexpected presence of this child who -had entered through his window like a sunbeam? -</p> -<p> -Mila was stealthily watching him. She saw that she had struck home. "O -untamed heart," she said to herself, with silent but intense joy, "I -have you now; you shall not escape me." -</p> -<p> -"My dear neighbor," said the artful minx, "pray do not be offended at -what I have just told you, and do not look upon it as an affront to your -merit. I know that any other than myself would be flattered to be -compromised by you, with the hope of becoming your wife; but I am -neither a liar nor a flirt. I am in love, and, as I have confidence in -you, I tell you of it. I know that it cannot cause you any pain, since -you have given up all thought of marriage, and since you detest all -women, except a single one who is not myself." -</p> -<p> -Magnani made no reply. The cobbler was still singing. "It is my fate," -thought Magnani, "not to be loved by any woman and never to be cured of -my love." -</p> -<p> -Mila, inspired by that species of divination which love gives to women, -even to those who have had no experience and have read but little, said -to herself—and justly—that Magnani, being stimulated in his -passion by suffering and absence of hope, would be alarmed and repelled -at the idea of love being offered to him unasked—a too-ready, -alluring love; consequently she represented herself as invulnerable and -protected against him by another attachment. In that way she lured him -by making him suffer, and that was, in truth, the only way in which he -could be lured. By changing the form of his torture, she paved the way -for his cure. -</p> -<p> -"Mila," he said to her at last, pointing to a heavy ring of chased gold -which he wore on his finger, and which she had already noticed, "can you -tell me the source of this beautiful present?" -</p> -<p> -"That?" she said, looking at the ring with feigned astonishment. "It is -impossible for me to tell you anything about it. But I no longer hear -your neighbor; farewell. By the way, Magnani, you look very tired. You -were resting when I came in; you would do well to rest a little more. -None of us are in any danger at this moment. I am not, because my father -and brother are about the house. They are not, because it is broad -daylight and the house is full of people. Sleep, my dear neighbor. If it -is only for an hour, that will give you strength to go on with your -rôle of guardian of the family." -</p> -<p> -"No, no, Mila. I shall not sleep, and, indeed, I have no desire to; for, -say what you will, there are some strange, inexplicable things still -going on in this house. I confess that I lost myself a moment, just as -day was breaking. You were asleep; you were locked into your room; the -man in the cloak had gone. I had sat down under your gallery, saying to -myself that the first step that shook it would wake me instantly if I -should happen to fall asleep. And thereupon I did actually fall asleep. -For five minutes perhaps, not more, for it was not perceptibly lighter -when I woke again. Well! when I opened my eyes, I fancied that I saw a -corner of a dress or a black veil, which flitted by me and disappeared -like a flash. I made a vague, fruitless effort to seize that vision with -the hand that lay half open on the bench at my side. But in my hand, or -beside it—I don't know which—was an object which I dropped at -my feet, and instantly picked up again: it was this ring. Have you any idea -to whom it belongs?" -</p> -<p> -"Such a fine ring cannot belong to anyone in the house," Mila replied; -"but I think I know it." -</p> -<p> -"And I know it, too," said Magnani; "it belongs to Princess Agatha. For -five years I have seen it on her finger, and it was there the day she -came into my mother's room." -</p> -<p> -"It is a ring that came to her from her own mother, she told me so! But -how does it happen to be on your hand to-day?" -</p> -<p> -"I relied upon you to explain that prodigy to me, Mila; that is what I -wanted to ask you." -</p> -<p> -"Upon me? Why upon me?" -</p> -<p> -"You are the only one in this house in whom the princess is sufficiently -interested to have given her so handsome a present." -</p> -<p> -"And if she had given it to me," she said, in a superb and mocking tone, -"do you suppose that I would have deprived myself of it in your favor, -Signor Magnani?" -</p> -<p> -"No, surely not; you should not and would not have done it; but you -might have passed along the gallery and dropped it, for I was just under -the rail." -</p> -<p> -"No, I did not! Besides, didn't you see a black dress beside you? Am I -dressed in black?" -</p> -<p> -"I thought, however, that you might have gone down into the yard during -that moment that I was asleep, and that, to punish me or to make sport -of me, you played that joke on me. If that is the case, Mila, you must -agree that the punishment was too light, and you ought to have poured -water on my face instead of keeping it for my flowers. But take your -ring, I don't want to keep it any longer. It wouldn't be a suitable -thing for me to wear, and I should be afraid of losing it." -</p> -<p> -"I swear to you that that ring was never given to me, that I did not go -into the yard while you were asleep; and I will not take what belongs to -you." -</p> -<p> -"As it is impossible that Princess Agatha should have come here this -morning——" -</p> -<p> -"Oh! to be sure, that is impossible!" said Mila, with mischievous -gravity. -</p> -<p> -"And yet she did come here!" said Magnani, thinking that he could read -the truth in her gleaming eyes. "Yes, yes, Mila, she came here this -morning! You are impregnated with the perfume that her clothes exhale; -either you touched her cape, or she kissed you, not more than an hour -ago." -</p> -<p> -"Great heaven!" thought the girl, "how well he knows everything that has -any connection with Princess Agatha! how shrewdly he guesses, when she -is in question! Suppose it were she with whom he is in love? Well! God -grant that it may be, for she will help me to cure him; she loves me so -dearly!" -</p> -<p> -"You don't answer me, Mila," continued Magnani. "Since you are found -out, confess." -</p> -<p> -"I do not even know what you said," she replied; "I was thinking about -something else—about going away!" -</p> -<p> -"I will help you; but first I will beg you to put this ring on your -finger so that you may return it to Princess Agatha; for she surely lost -it when she passed me." -</p> -<p> -"And supposing that she did come here, which is absurd, my dear -neighbor, why should she not have made you this present?" -</p> -<p> -"Because she must know me well enough to be sure that I would not accept -it." -</p> -<p> -"You are proud!" -</p> -<p> -"Very proud, you have said it, my dear Mila! It is not in the power of -any person to put a material price on the devotion which my heart gives -joyfully. I can conceive that a great nobleman may present a gold chain -or a diamond to the artist who has delighted him for an hour by his -genius, but I could never understand why he should want to pay the man -of the people from whom he feels justified in asking a proof of -affection. Moreover, that would not be the case here. In notifying me -that your brother was in some danger, Princess Agatha simply pointed out -to me a duty, which I should have performed as zealously if anyone else -had given me the same warning. It seems to me that I am sufficiently her -friend and your father's, and I might also venture to say yours, to be -ready to stand guard, to fight, and to go to prison for one of you, -without being hired to do so by anyone. Don't you believe it, Mila?" -</p> -<p> -"I do believe it, my friend," she replied; "but I believe also that you -misinterpret this gift altogether, if it is a gift. Princess Agatha -knows better than you or I that friendship is not to be bought with -money and jewels. But she probably feels, as you and I do, that when -friendly hearts unite to aid one another, esteem and sympathy increase -in proportion to the zeal which each one displays. In many cases a ring -is a pledge of friendship, not payment for service rendered; for you -have rendered the princess a service by protecting us, that is certain; -although I do not know how it comes about, her cause is bound up with -ours, and our enemies are hers. If you reflect on what I have told you, -you will realize that this ring has a sentimental value in the -princess's eyes, not a material value, as you say; for it is a trinket -not especially valuable in itself." -</p> -<p> -"You told me that it came to her from her mother, did you not?" said -Magnani, deeply moved. -</p> -<p> -"And you yourself noticed that she always wore it! If I were in your -place, and were sure that that ring had been given to me, I would never -part with it. I would not wear it on my finger, where it would attract -too much attention from envious creatures, but on my heart, where it -would be like a blessed relic." -</p> -<p> -"In that case, my dear Mila," said Magnani, touched by the extreme -delicacy with which the girl tried to allay the bitterness of his heart, -and to make him accept her rival's gift with pleasure, "in that case, -take this ring back to her, and if she really meant to give it to me, if -she insists upon my keeping it, I will keep it." -</p> -<p> -"And you will wear it on your heart as I told you?" asked Mila, looking -him through and through with courageous but anxious eyes. "Remember," -she added, vehemently, "that it is the pledge of a patron saint; that -the woman whom you love, whoever she may be, cannot deserve that you -should sacrifice it to her, and that it would be far better to throw it -into the sea than to profane it by an act of ingratitude!" -</p> -<p> -Magnani was dazzled by the flame that flashed from Mila's great black -eyes. Did she guess the truth? Perhaps! but if she simply relied upon -Magnani's gratitude for the woman who had saved his mother, she was no -less noble and generous in seeking to procure for him the pleasure of -believing in that good fairy's friendship. He began to feel infected by -the chaste and deep-rooted ardor which she carried concealed in her -heart, and that proud and passionate heart revealed itself against its -will, amid its efforts to subdue itself or to keep quiet. -</p> -<p> -An impulsive outburst of gratitude and tenderness brought Magnani to his -knees at the girl's feet. -</p> -<p> -"Mila," he said, "I know that Princess Agatha is a saint, and I do not -know whether my heart is worthy to receive a relic from her. But I do -know that there is but a single other heart in the world to which I -would be willing to entrust it; so never fear; no woman, except you, -will ever seem to me pure enough to wear this ring. Put it on your -finger now, in order to give it back to the princess or to keep it for -me." -</p> -<p> -Mila, when she had returned to her room, had a moment's dizziness, as if -she were going to faint. Her heart throbbed wildly with mingled feelings -of consternation and delirious joy. At last she heard her father, who -was impatient for his breakfast, crying: -</p> -<p> -"Well, little one, we are hungry, and thirsty above all! for it's hot -already and the paints make your throat dry." -</p> -<p> -Mila hastened to wait upon them; but when she placed her jug on the -table at which they were breakfasting, she noticed that it was empty. -Michel offered to go and refill it, after making fun of her -absent-mindedness. Sensitive to the reproof, and making it a point of -honor to be her old father's only servant, Mila snatched the jug from -him and ran lightly to the fountain. -</p> -<p> -This fountain was a beautifully clear spring which gushed from the very -heart of the lava, in a soft of cliff behind the house. It not -infrequently happens in those regions overrun by lava, that springs -become choked up by volcanic matter and disappear, to appear again after -the lapse of several years. The people dig in search of the former bed. -They find that the water has broken out a passage under the cold fires -of the volcano, and, as soon as it is given an opportunity, it rushes to -the surface, as pure and healthful as before. The one which bathed the -base of Pier-Angelo's house bubbled up at the bottom of a deep -excavation that had been made in the rock, to which a picturesque -staircase led. It formed a little basin for the laundresses, and a -quantity of white linen, hung upon all the walls of the grotto, kept it -constantly dark and cool there. Pretty Mila, as she tripped up and down -that steep staircase ten times a day, with her jug upon her head, was a -most perfect model for those classical figures which the painters of the -last century inevitably placed in all their Italian landscapes; and in -truth what more natural accessory, what more charming <i>local color</i> -could one give to those pictures than the faces and costumes, the -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap34"></a>XXXIV -<br><br> -AT THE FOUNTAIN -</h4> - -<p> -When Mila descended the staircase cut in the rock, she saw a man sitting -on the edge of the spring, but was not alarmed. Her heart was all full -of love and hope, and the recollection of the dangers that threatened -her was powerless to affect her. Even when she reached the brink of the -spring, this man, whose back was turned to her, and whose head and body -were enveloped in the long hooded cape which the common people wear,<a id="FNanchor_8_1" href="FNanchor_8_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_1" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> -did not arouse her suspicions; but when he turned and asked her in a -soft voice if she would permit him to drink from her jug, she started; -for it seemed to her that she recognized the voice, and she noticed that -there was no one in sight, either above or below the fountain; that not -a child was playing on the staircase as usual, in fact, that she was -alone with this stranger, whose voice terrified her. -</p> -<p> -She pretended not to have heard him, hastily filled her jug, and -prepared to go up again. But the stranger, reclining on the stones, -either to bar her way or perhaps to rest more comfortably, said to her -in the same caressing tone: -</p> -<p> -"Rebecca, will you refuse a drop of water to Jacob, the friend and -servant of the family?" -</p> -<p> -"I do not know you," replied Mila, trying to assume a calm and -indifferent tone. "Can you not put your lips to the cascade? You can -drink from it much better than from a jug." -</p> -<p> -The stranger calmly passed his arms around Mila's legs, and compelled -her to lean on his shoulder to avoid falling. -</p> -<p> -"Let me go," she said, terrified and angry, "or I will call for help. I -have no time to jest with you, and I am not one of those who dally with -every strange man they see. Let me go, I tell you, or I will shriek." -</p> -<p> -"Mila," said the unknown, throwing back his hood, "I am no stranger to -you, although it is not long since we became acquainted. We have -relations together which it is not in your power to break off, and which -it is your duty not to refuse to recognize. The life, fortune, and honor -of those who are dearest to you on earth rest on my zeal and my loyalty. -I have something to say to you; give me your jug, so that if anyone is -watching it will not seem unnatural that you should have stopped here a -moment with me." -</p> -<p> -On recognizing the mysterious guest of the previous night, Mila was -subjugated as it were by a sort of dread not unmingled with respect. For -we must tell the whole truth: Mila was a woman, and the Piccinino's -beauty, his youth, his expression and his soft voice did not fail to -exert a secret influence upon her sensitive and slightly romantic -instincts. -</p> -<p> -"My lord," she said to him, for it was impossible not to take him for a -nobleman in disguise, "I will obey you; but do not detain me by force, -and speak more quickly, for this situation is not without danger to us -both." -</p> -<p> -She handed him her jug, from which he drank without haste; for, -meanwhile, he held the girl's lovely bare arm in his hand and gazed upon -its beautiful shape, pressing it at the same time to force her to tip -the jug gradually, as he quenched his real or pretended thirst. -</p> -<p> -"Now, Mila," he said, covering his face, which he had left uncovered for -her to admire, "listen to me! The monk who frightened you yesterday will -come here again as soon as your father and brother have gone out: they -are to dine to-day with the Marquis della Serra. Do not try to keep them -at home on any account; if they should stay at home, if they should see -the monk, if they should try to drive him away, it would be the signal -for some disaster which I could not prevent. If you are prudent and -devoted to your family, you will even spare the monk the danger of -showing himself in your house. You will come here as if to wash; I know -that, before going into the house, he will prowl about here and will try -to surprise you outside of your yard, for he is afraid of the neighbors. -Do not be afraid of him; he is a coward, and he will never attempt to -use violence with you in broad daylight, or when he is in any danger of -being discovered. He will talk to you again of his ignoble desires. Cut -the conversation short; but pretend that you have changed your mind. -Tell him to go away because you are watched; but make an appointment -with him for twenty o'clock<a id="FNanchor_9_1" href="FNanchor_9_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_9_1" class="fnanchor">[9]</a> at a place which I will indicate, and -whither you must go alone, an hour earlier. I will be there. You will -run no risk therefore. I will take charge of the monk, and you will -never hear of him again. You will be delivered from a detestable -persecutor, Princess Agatha will no longer be in danger of being -dishonored by shocking calumnies; your father will no longer have the -threat of imprisonment hanging over him, and your brother Michel that of -the assassin's dagger." -</p> -<p> -"Great God! great God!" said Mila, panting with fear and surprise, "this -monk is so ill-disposed toward us and able to injure us so! Is he Abbé -Ninfo?" -</p> -<p> -"Speak lower, girl, and do not let that accursed name reach the ears -that surround you to-day. Be calm; seem to know nothing and to be doing -nothing. If you say a word of all this to anybody, no matter who it may -be, you will be prevented from saving those whom you love. You will be -told to distrust me, because your own prudence and strength of will are -distrusted. Who knows if I shall not be taken for your enemy? I am not -afraid of anyone, but I am afraid that my friends will destroy -themselves by their indecision. You alone can save them, Mila! Will you -do it?" -</p> -<p> -"Yes, I will," she said; "but what will become of me if you are -deceiving me? if you do not keep the appointment?" -</p> -<p> -"Why, don't you know who I am?" -</p> -<p> -"No, I do not know; no one was willing to tell me." -</p> -<p> -"Look at me, then; venture to examine me carefully, and you will know me -better from my face than all those people do who have spoken to you -about me." -</p> -<p> -He put aside his hood, and was able to give to his handsome face so -reassuring and affectionate and gentle an expression, that the -simple-hearted Mila yielded to its dangerous influence. -</p> -<p> -"It seems to me," she said, with a blush, "that you are kind and honest; -if the devil is in you, he has put on the mask of an angel." -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> -<a id="figure05"></a> -<br> -<img src="images/figure05.jpg" width="300" alt="300"> -<div class="caption"> -<p><i>MILA SURPRISED AT THE FOUNTAIN.</i></p> -<p class="smaller"> -<i>She handed him her jug, from which he drank -without haste; for, meanwhile, he held the girl's -lovely bare arm in his hand and gazed upon its -beautiful shape, pressing it at the same time to force -her to tip the jug gradually, as he quenched his real -or pretended thirst.</i></p> -</div></div> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -The Piccinino closed his hood to conceal the sensuous gratification -afforded him by that artless confession from the loveliest lips in the -world. -</p> -<p> -"Very well," he replied, "follow your instinct. Obey only the promptings -of your heart; let me tell you, moreover, that your uncle at Bel Passo -brought me up as his son, that your dear Princess Agatha has placed her -fortune and her honor in my hands, and that, if she were not a woman, -that is to say a bit of a prude, she would have made this most essential -appointment with Abbé Ninfo." -</p> -<p> -"But I am a woman too," said Mila, "and I am afraid. Why is this -appointment so essential?" -</p> -<p> -"Don't you know that I am to kidnap Abbé Ninfo? How can I seize him in -the streets of Catania, or at the gates of Villa Ficarazzi? Must I not -lure him out of his den, and lead him into a trap? His evil fate -ordained that he should fall insanely in love with you." -</p> -<p> -"Oh! don't use the word love in connection with such a man; it makes me -shudder. And you want me to make a pretence of encouraging him! I shall -die of shame and disgust." -</p> -<p> -"Farewell, Mila," said the bandit, pretending to rise. "I see that you -are a woman like other women, after all, a weak, vain creature, who -thinks only of saving herself, utterly heedless of the calumnies and -blows that may fall upon the heads which should be most sacred to her!" -</p> -<p> -"No, no, I am not like that!" she replied proudly. "I will sacrifice my -life in this experiment; as for my honor, I shall find a way to die -before it is stained." -</p> -<p> -"Good, good, my brave girl! Now you are talking as Fra Angelo's niece -should talk. You see that I am perfectly undisturbed on your account, -however, because I know that you are in no danger." -</p> -<p> -"But are not you in danger, my lord? If you fall, who will protect me -against this monk?" -</p> -<p> -"A dagger thrust—not in your beautiful bosom, my poor angel, as you -threaten, but in the throat of a vile beast, who is not worthy to die by -a woman's hand, and who will never expose himself to that risk." -</p> -<p> -"Where must I agree to meet him?" -</p> -<p> -"At Nicolosi, at the house of Carmelo Tomabene, farmer, who, you will -tell him, is your friend and kinsman. You will add that he is absent, -that you have the keys of his house, and that there is a large sheltered -garden which he can enter, unseen by anyone, by going down through the -ravine of the <i>Destatore's Cross</i>. Can you remember all that?" -</p> -<p> -"Perfectly; and will he go?" -</p> -<p> -"He will go without any doubt, and without a suspicion that this Carmelo -Tomabene is on very intimate terms with a certain Piccinino, who is said -to be a leader of bandits, and to whom, only yesterday, he offered a -princely fortune on condition that he would kidnap your brother and at -need murder him." -</p> -<p> -"Blessed Madonna, protect me! The Piccinino! I have heard of him; he is -a terrible man. Will he be there with you? I should die of fright if I -saw him!" -</p> -<p> -"And yet," said the bandit, overjoyed to find that Mila knew so little -of what was going on, "I will wager that, like all the girls in the -neighborhood, you are dying with the longing to see him." -</p> -<p> -"I should rather like to see him, because they say he is so ugly! But I -should want to be sure that he did not see me!" -</p> -<p> -"Never fear; there will be nobody but myself at the farmer's house in -Nicolosi. Tell me, are you afraid of me too, child that you are? Have I -a very dreadful, very wicked look?" -</p> -<p> -"No, indeed you have not! But why must I keep the appointment? Won't it -be enough if I send the abbé—I mean the monk?" -</p> -<p> -"He is suspicious, like all criminals; he will never go into Carmelo -Tomabene's garden unless he sees you walking there all alone. By going -there an hour in advance of the time fixed, you run no risk of meeting -him on the road; at all events, go by the Bel Passo road, which you -probably know better than the other. Have you ever been to Nicolosi?" -</p> -<p> -"Never, my lord; is it a very long way?" -</p> -<p> -"Too far for your little feet, Mila; but you can cling to a mule's back, -can't you?" -</p> -<p> -"Oh! yes, I think so." -</p> -<p> -"You will find a perfectly safe, gentle beast behind Villa Palmarosa. A -child will bring it to you, with a white rose for countersign. Drop the -reins on the trusty creature's neck, and have no fear, but let him go as -fast as he will. In less than an hour he will bring you to my gate, -without once missing the way or taking a false step, however horrible -the road he selects may seem to you. You won't be afraid, Mila?" -</p> -<p> -"And suppose I should meet the abbé?" -</p> -<p> -"Lash your beast, and don't be afraid that anyone will overtake you." -</p> -<p> -"But if I am to go by way of Bel Passo, you will surely allow my uncle -to escort me?" -</p> -<p> -"No, your uncle has business elsewhere for the same good cause; but, if -you notify him, he will insist upon accompanying you. If he sees you, he -will follow you, and our whole undertaking will have come to naught. I -have no time to tell you more. I think that I hear some one calling you. -You hesitate; does that mean that you refuse?" -</p> -<p> -"I am not hesitating; I will go! My lord, do you believe in God?" -</p> -<p> -This abrupt and ingenuous question made the Piccinino turn pale and -smile at the same time. -</p> -<p> -"Why do you ask me that?" he said, pulling his hood over his face. -</p> -<p> -"Ah! you know why?" said she. "God hears and sees everything. He -punishes falsehood and assists innocence!" -</p> -<p> -Again they heard Pier-Angelo's voice, calling his daughter. -</p> -<p> -"Go," said the Piccinino, supporting her with his hands, to assist her -to mount the staircase quickly; "remember, if a single word escapes you, -we are lost." -</p> -<p> -"You too?" -</p> -<p> -"I too!" -</p> -<p> -"That would be a pity," thought Mila, turning at the top of the -staircase to cast a last glance at the comely stranger, of whom it was -impossible not to make a hero and a friend of the first order, and whom, -in her joyous imagination, she placed beside Agatha. He had such a soft -voice and such a sweet smile! His tone was so noble, his authoritative -air so convincing! "I will be brave and discreet," she said. "I am only -a little girl, and yet I am the one who is to save everybody's life!" In -all times, alas! the sparrow has yielded to the fascination of the -vulture. -</p> -<p> -In all this the Piccinino gave way to an inborn passion for increasing -the difficulties of an adventure to his profit, or simply for amusement. -To be sure, he had no better way of enticing Abbé Ninfo to his house -than by offering a bait to his lust. But he might well have chosen some -other woman than the innocent Mila to play, with the aid of some slight -resemblance or of a similar costume, the part of the person who was to -appear in his garden. The abbé was sometimes insultingly suspicious, -because he was a horrible coward; but, blinded by ridiculous -presumption, and impelled by lecherous impatience, he would have fallen -into the trap. A little violence, a man stationed behind the gate, would -have sufficed to place him in the bandit's hands. There were many other -ruses to which the Piccinino was accustomed to resort, and which might -have succeeded as well; for the abbé, with all his scheming, his -inquisitiveness, his incessant espionage, his impudent falsehoods and -his shameless persistence, was a villain of the lowest order, and the -stupidest and least adroit man on earth. People are too much afraid of -knaves as a general rule; they do not know that the majority of them are -fools. Abbé Ninfo would not have had to take half the trouble to do -twice the harm, if he had had ever so little intelligence and real -penetration. -</p> -<p> -For instance, we have seen that he was always beside the truth in his -discoveries. He had assumed innumerable disguises and invented a -thousand time-worn methods of watching what was taking place at Villa -Palmarosa; and he was thoroughly persuaded that Michel was the -princess's lover. He was a hundred leagues from suspecting the nature of -the tie between them. He might easily have deceived Doctor Recuperati, -whose unswerving uprightness lacked foresight and intelligence; and yet, -desiring to steal the will from him, he had delayed from day to day, and -had never succeeded in gaining his confidence in the slightest degree. -It was impossible for him to play for five minutes the rôle of a -well-meaning man, his face bore so unmistakably the stamp of unalloyed -and unbounded baseness. -</p> -<p> -His vices embarrassed him, as he himself admitted, even proclaimed, when -he was intoxicated. Dissolute, avaricious, and so intemperate that he -fuddled his brain when lucidity was most essential to him, he had -conducted a difficult intrigue to a successful end. The cardinal had for -a long time made use of him as a police agent for whom no task was too -vile, and he had never valued him except as a tool of the lowest order. -In his days of cynical wit, the prelate had branded him with an epithet -which we shall not attempt to translate, and from which he had never -been able to rise. -</p> -<p> -Thus he had had no share in the family affairs and secrets of State -which had filled the life of Monsignor Hieronymo. The contempt which he -inspired in his master had survived his loss of memory, and the aged -prelate, paralyzed and almost in his dotage, was not even afraid of him, -and recovered the power of speech with him only to call him by the -degrading sobriquet which he had previously bestowed on him. -</p> -<p> -Another proof of the abbé's idiocy was his cherished conviction that he -could seduce all the women who aroused his desires. -</p> -<p> -"With a little money and a lot of lies," he would say, "with threats, -compliments and promises, a man can obtain the proudest or the humblest -of them." -</p> -<p> -Consequently he flattered himself that he could obtain a share of -Agatha's fortune by effecting the removal of the man whom he presumed to -be her lover. He was capable of but one thing, of placing Michel at the -muzzle of a bandit's gun, and shouting <i>fire</i>! in a moment of -disappointed vanity and greed; he would not have dared to kill him -himself, just as he would not have dared to do violence to Mila, if she -had threatened him with nothing more than a pair of scissors. -</p> -<p> -But, abject wretch that he was, he had a certain power for evil; it did -not spring from him, the villainy of other men had invested him with it. -The Neapolitan police lent him its dastardly and odious assistance when -he requested it. He had caused many innocent victims to be exiled, -ruined, or cast into dungeons, and he might very well have seized Michel -without having recourse to the brigands of the mountain. But he wished -to be able to surrender him, at need, for a heavy ransom, and he wished -to have the terms of ransom discussed by avowed brigands, whose interest -it would be not to betray him. His whole rôle consisted in seeking out -the <i>bravi</i> and saying to them: "I have discovered a love intrigue -which is worth something. Do the job, and we will divide the profits." -</p> -<p> -But herein again he had been gulled. A shrewd <i>bravo</i>, who -<i>worked</i> in the city under the Piccinino's direction, and who would -not have presumed to do anything without consulting him, had deceived -the abbé by inviting him to a rendezvous at which he had not seen the -real Piccinino, who was present, however, behind a partition. The -Piccinino had thereupon threatened to break the head of the first of the -two accomplices who should say a word or take a step without orders from -him, and they knew that he was a man to keep his word. Indeed, the young -adventurer governed his band with such extraordinary skill, with a -mixture of gentleness and despotism so well blended, that his father had -not been so loved and dreaded as he was, although, to be sure, he had -acted upon a larger scale and his enterprises had been more extensive. -He could be perfectly at ease, therefore; his secrets would not have -been revealed under torture, and he was able to gratify the caprice -which he frequently had, of carrying out entirely alone, without a -confidant and without assistance, an undertaking in which he had no need -of using main force, but only of craft and strategy. -</p> -<p> -That is why the Piccinino, sure of the success of his plan, which was of -the simplest, chose to blend with it, on his own account, poetic, -strange, and romantic incidents, or real passions, according to his -whim. His vivid imagination and his cold nature involved him constantly -in contradictory enterprises, from which he was always able to extricate -himself, thanks to his great intelligence and his self-control. He had -always sailed his craft so skilfully that, outside of his accomplices -and the very small number of his intimate friends, no one could have -proved that the famous captain, Piccinino, natural son of the -<i>Destatore</i>, and the placid villager Carmelo Tomabene were one and the -same man. The latter also was supposed to be a son of Castro-Reale; but -there were so many others in the mountains who prided themselves upon -that perilous origin! -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="nind"><a id="Footnote_8_1" href="Footnote_8_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_1"><span class="label">[8]</span></a>It is a double woolen <i>surtout</i>, of several different -colors inside and out. It is worn as a protection against the sun's heat -as well as against the cold.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="nind"><a id="Footnote_9_1" href="Footnote_9_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9_1"><span class="label">[9]</span></a>That is to say, four hours before nightfall.</p></div> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap35"></a>XXXV -<br><br> -THE COAT OF ARMS -</h4> - -<p> -Thus the one really formidable enemy of the Lavoratori family, had he -chosen to assume that character, was the Piccinino; but Mila had no -suspicion of it, and Fra Angelo relied upon that element of heroism -which formed, if we may so express it, half of his ward's character. The -worthy monk was not free from anxiety, none the less; he had hoped that -he would soon see him again, and have an opportunity to make sure of his -disposition in the matter: but he had waited and sought in vain. He was -beginning to wonder if he had not turned the wolf into the sheepfold, -and if it were not a great mistake to act in concert with men who were -capable of doing what one would not be willing to do oneself. -</p> -<p> -He went to Villa Palmarosa at the usual hour for the daily siesta, and -found Agatha preparing to enjoy the delights of that moment of repose so -essential to Southern peoples. -</p> -<p> -"Set your mind at rest, my dear padre," she said, "my anxiety vanished -with the daylight. At dawn I was so far from confident concerning your -ward's purposes, that I went myself to make sure that he had not -murdered Michel during the night. But the child was sleeping quietly and -the Piccinino had already gone." -</p> -<p> -"You went yourself to investigate, signora? What will the people in the -suburb say of such a proceeding?" -</p> -<p> -"They will never know anything about it, I trust. I was alone and on -foot, entirely covered by an old-fashioned <i>mazzaro</i><a id="FNanchor_10_1" href="FNanchor_10_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_10_1" class="fnanchor">[10]</a> and, if I met -any persons who know me, they certainly did not recognize me. However, -my good padre, I no longer have any serious fears. The abbé knows -nothing." -</p> -<p> -"You are sure of it?" -</p> -<p> -"I am perfectly sure, and the cardinal is as incapable of remembering -anything whatsoever, as the doctor represented him to be. Nevertheless, -the abbé has evil projects on hand. Would you believe that he supposes -Michel to be my lover?" -</p> -<p> -"And the Piccinino believed it?" said the monk, in dismay. -</p> -<p> -"He believes it no longer," replied Agatha. "I received a note from him -this morning in which he gives me his word that I can be perfectly at -ease; that the abbé will be in his power in the course of the day, and -that until then he will find a way to keep him so busy that we shall -hear nothing from him. So I breathe freely, and have only one subject of -anxiety; that is, to know how I am to escape the intimacy of Captain -Piccinino hereafter, for he threatens to become too attentive. But we -will talk of that later; sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof; -and if, after all, it should become necessary for me to tell him the -truth—You do not think him the man to abuse it, do you?" -</p> -<p> -"I know that he is the man to pretend that he proposes to take advantage -of and abuse every opportunity; but have the courage to treat him always -as a paragon of sincerity and generosity, and you will see that he will -try to live up to the character, and will do it, in spite of the devil." -</p> -<p> -The princess and the Capuchin talked together for a long while, and -mutually informed each other of all that they knew. After which, Fra -Angelo went down to Catania to cancel Magnani's orders, to make another -appointment with him to meet Agatha, and to take his place as escort to -Michel and his father to the Marquis della Serra's palace; for, in spite -of everything, Fra Angelo did not like the idea of their being alone in -the country, so long as he himself had not seen the <i>Destatore's</i> son. -</p> -<p> -We will follow these three members of the Lavoratori family to the -marquis's villa, leaving Mila in anxious expectation of the monk's -visit, while Magnani, working on the gallery opposite her room, was far -from suspecting that, after asking his assistance, she was watching for -an opportunity to steal out of sight. She had promised her father to go -and dine with her friend Nenna, as soon as she had washed and ironed a -veil which she said that she must have to wear. Everything happened as -her unknown friend had predicted. She saw the monk at the fountain, and -had no need to feign a most intense fear of being taken by surprise, for -she asked herself in dire distress what Magnani would think of her if, -after what she had told him, he should see her voluntarily talking with -that miserable wretch. -</p> -<p> -To avoid the necessity of speaking to him and looking at his disgusting -face, she tossed him a written paper which he read with the utmost -delight; then he went away, throwing her kisses which made her quiver -with disgust and indignation. -</p> -<p> -At that moment her father, brother, and uncle, having no shadow of -suspicion of the perils to which the poor child was about to expose -herself for them, entered the Della Serra palace. That sumptuous -dwelling, more modern than that of Palmarosa, from which it was -separated only by their respective great parks and a narrow valley -covered with gardens and grass, was filled with artistic objects, -statues, urns, and magnificent paintings, which the marquis had -collected with the enthusiasm of an earnest and enlightened connoisseur. -He came forward in person to meet the Angelos, shook hands with them -cordially, and, pending the dinner-hour, took them all over his noble -residence, showing to them and explaining courteously, and with no less -wit than good sense, the masterpieces of art with which it was -embellished. Pier-Angelo, although a simple decorator, had excellent -taste, and a due appreciation of the beautiful in art. He was peculiarly -susceptible to the charm of all those marvellous things with which he -was already familiar, and his artless yet profound reflections enlivened -the most serious conversation instead of lowering its tone. Michel was a -little embarrassed at first in the marquis's presence; but as he soon -discovered that his father's natural and unconstrained manner seemed to -a man of sense like the marquis in unexceptionable taste and most -becoming, he felt more at ease; and finally, when he found himself -sitting at a table laden with silver plate, decorated as handsomely and -with as great an abundance of flowers as for the entertainment of the -most illustrious guests, he forgot his prejudices, and talked as freely -and interestingly as if he had been the marquis's own son or nephew. -</p> -<p> -A single thing disturbed him strangely during the dinner: the expression -and attitude which he attributed to the marquis's servants; I say which -he attributed, because he dared not look at them. He had dined many a -time at the tables of the rich when he was in Rome, especially after his -father returned to Catania, and he no longer had a family to keep him at -home and prevent his seeking the society of the fashionable youth of the -city. So that he did not fear any affront for himself; but, as it was -the first time that he and his father had been invited to dine abroad -with a patrician, he suffered torments at the idea that the lackeys -might shrug their shoulders and pass the dishes rudely to the excellent -old man. -</p> -<p> -In truth those lackeys might well have had a feeling of anger and -contempt, having seen Pier-Angelo on his ladder so many times in that -same palace, and treated him as their equal. -</p> -<p> -Nevertheless, whether because the marquis had prepared them by a word or -two of kindly and straightforward explanation calculated to flatter and -soothe the sensitive self-love of men of that class, or because -Pier-Angelo was so great a favorite with all who knew him that even -footmen laid aside their customary pride in his favor, they served him -with much deference. Michel observed it at last, when his father, -turning to an old servant who was filling his glass, said to him with a -smile: -</p> -<p> -"Many thanks, old fellow; you wait on me like a friend. I'll do as much -for you when I have the chance." -</p> -<p> -Michel flushed and glanced at the marquis, who smiled with a touched and -gratified air. The old servant also smiled at Pier-Angelo with a -friendly glance. -</p> -<p> -After the dessert was removed, the marquis was informed that Master -Barbagallo, the princess's majordomo, was waiting in one of the rooms of -the palace to show him a picture. They found him in conference with Fra -Angelo, whose sobriety and restless activity made him impatient of a -long sitting at table, and who had asked leave to walk about the grounds -immediately after the first course. -</p> -<p> -At first, the marquis went alone to Barbagallo, to ask if he had any -private message for him from the princess; and when they had exchanged -in an undertone a few words which seemed to be of no importance, to -judge by their faces, the marquis returned to Michel and said, putting -his arm through his: -</p> -<p> -"Perhaps it will afford you some pleasure to see my family portraits, -which are in a separate gallery, and which I had forgotten to show you. -Don't be alarmed at the multitude of ancestors assembled under my roof. -You can look them over at a glance, and I will call your attention -particularly only to those which are the work of some great master. -However, it is an interesting collection of costumes, which a historical -painter might consult with advantage. But, before going in, let us cast -a glance at this one which Master Barbagallo has brought to us, having -just disinterred it in the lofts of Villa Palmarosa.—My dear child," -he added, in a low voice, "pray bestow a greeting on the poor majordomo, -who is outdoing himself in reverences, being ashamed, doubtless, of his -behavior to you at the princess's ball." -</p> -<p> -Michel at last noticed the majordomo's advances, and replied to them -without resentment. Since he had become reconciled to his position and -to himself, he felt that he was cured of his over-sensitiveness, and -believed, with his father, that no impertinence can reach the man who -possesses his own esteem. -</p> -<p> -"This which I present to your excellency," said the majordomo to the -marquis, "is a very much dilapidated Palmarosa; but, although the -inscription had almost disappeared, I have succeeded in deciphering it, -and here it is on a bit of paper." -</p> -<p> -"What!" said the marquis, with a smile, "you succeeded in reading that -this swashbuckler was a captain in the reign of King Manfred, and that -he accompanied John of Procida to Constantinople? That is wonderful. For -myself, I read the original inscription with the eyes of faith!" -</p> -<p> -"You can be perfectly sure that I am not mistaken," replied Barbagallo. -"I knew this gallant captain well, and I have been trying for a long -time to find his portrait." -</p> -<p> -Pier-Angelo roared with laughter. -</p> -<p> -"Ah! so you lived in those days!" he said; "I knew that you were older -than I am, Master Barbagallo, but I didn't suppose that you saw our -Sicilian Vespers!" -</p> -<p> -"Would that I had not seen it!" exclaimed Fra Angelo, with a sigh. -</p> -<p> -"I must explain Master Barbagallo's learning, and the interest he takes -in my family gallery," said the marquis to Michel. "He has passed his -life in this labor of patience, and no one is so familiar as he with -Sicilian genealogies. My family was connected by marriage in the past -with the Princess of Palmarosa's, and even more closely with the family -of Castro-Reale, of which you have doubtless heard." -</p> -<p> -"I heard a great deal about it yesterday," replied Michel, with a smile. -</p> -<p> -"Very good; when I became the last heir of that family, after the death -of the famous prince known as the <i>Destatore</i>, all that came to me -by that succession—to which I gave very little thought, I promise -you—was a collection of ancestors which I did not even care to -unpack, but which Master Barbagallo, being enamored of curios of that -sort, took pains to clean and classify, and to hang in their proper -order in the gallery you are about to inspect. There were already in -that gallery, in addition to my own direct ancestors, a goodly number of -ancestors of the Palmarosa line, and Princess Agatha, who cares nothing -for collections of the sort, sent me hers, saying that it would be -better to collect them in a single place. That gave Master Barbagallo a -very long and difficult task, which he executed with honor to himself. -Come, all of you, for I have many characters to present to Michel, and -it may be that he will need his father's and uncle's assistance to hold -his own against so many dead men." -</p> -<p> -"I retire, in order not to impose my presence upon your lordships," said -Master Barbagallo, after accompanying them to the gallery to deposit his -Sicilian captain; "I will return some other time to put my picture in -place; unless the signor marquis desires that I should give Master -Michelangelo Lavoratori, whose very humble servant I am to-day and -always, the history of the originals of these portraits." -</p> -<p> -"What, signor majordomo," laughed Michel, "you know the story of all -these characters? There are more than three hundred of them!" -</p> -<p> -"There are five hundred and thirty, your lordship, and I not only know -their names and all the incidents of their lives, with their precise -dates, but I also know the name, age, and sex of all the children who -died before their features were reproduced, to be transmitted to -posterity. There have been three hundred and twenty-seven, including -those born dead. I have omitted none but those that never were -baptized." -</p> -<p> -"That is marvellous!" said Michel; "but if I had been in your place, -having such a memory, I should have preferred to learn the history of -the human race rather than that of a single family." -</p> -<p> -"The human race doesn't interest me," replied the majordomo, gravely. -"His excellency, Prince Dionigi de Palmarosa, father of the present -princess, did not entrust me with the duty of teaching his children -history. But, as I loved to be occupied, and as I had much time to -myself, in a house where no banquets or parties have been given for two -generations, he advised me, for amusement, to make a summary of the -history of his family, which was scattered through a multitude of -manuscript folio volumes, which you can see in the library at Palmarosa, -and all of which I examined and studied to the last letter." -</p> -<p> -"And did it really amuse you?" -</p> -<p> -"Much, Master Pier-Angelo," the majordomo solemnly replied to the old -painter's jocose question. -</p> -<p> -"I see," rejoined Michel, ironically, "that your lordship is no ordinary -steward, and that you are far more cultivated than your duties require." -</p> -<p> -"My duties, while not brilliant, have always been very pleasant," -replied the majordomo, "even in Prince Dionigi's day, and he was -pleasant to nobody but me. He had much consideration, almost friendship -for me, because I was an open book which he could consult at any hour -concerning his ancestors. As for the princess, his daughter, as she is -kind to everybody, I cannot but be happy with her. I do almost exactly -as I choose, and there are only three things about her that grieve me, -and those are her giving up her family gallery, her never consulting her -genealogical tree, and her not deigning to investigate the science of -heraldry. And yet it is a delightful science, and one which ladies used -to cultivate with success." -</p> -<p> -"And now it is a part of the stock in trade of decorators and gilders of -wood," said Michel, laughing anew. "They are attractive ornaments of -which the bright colors and the flavor of the days of chivalry please -the eye and the imagination; that is all." -</p> -<p> -"That is all?" rejoined the scandalized steward; "pardon me, your -lordship, that is not all. Heraldry is history written in hieroglyphics -<i>ad hoc</i>. Alas! the time will soon come, perhaps, when we shall know -how to read this mysterious writing better than the sacramental characters -which cover the tombs and monuments of Egypt! And yet what profound and -ingeniously expressed meaning there is in that figurative language! To -place upon a seal, upon the bezel of a ring the whole history of one's -own race—is not that the result of a marvellous art? And what more -concise and more impressive signs have civilized people ever used?" -</p> -<p> -"What he says is not without a basis of reason and common sense," said -the marquis, in an undertone, addressing Michel. "But you listen to him -with a disdainful expression which impresses me, young man. Come! say -all that you think; I would like to hear it, in order to ascertain -whether you have good reason for laughing at the nobility with a touch -of bitterness, as you seem inclined to do. Do not be embarrassed; I will -listen to you as calmly and disinterestedly as yonder dead men, who look -down upon us with lifeless eyes, from their frames blackened by the -lapse of time." -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="nind"><a id="Footnote_10_1" href="Footnote_10_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_10_1"><span class="label">[10]</span></a>A black silk cloak, which covers the whole body and the -head.</p></div> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PICCININO, VOLUME 01 (OF 2) ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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