diff options
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 4 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69840-0.txt | 12927 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69840-0.zip | bin | 276483 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69840-h.zip | bin | 1868720 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69840-h/69840-h.htm | 14844 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69840-h/images/cover.jpg | bin | 151044 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69840-h/images/figure01.jpg | bin | 220870 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69840-h/images/figure02.jpg | bin | 237889 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69840-h/images/figure03.jpg | bin | 239200 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69840-h/images/figure04.jpg | bin | 254401 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69840-h/images/figure05.jpg | bin | 244063 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69840-h/images/frontispiece.jpg | bin | 251923 -> 0 bytes |
14 files changed, 17 insertions, 27771 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. 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..5f7b0be --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #69840 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/69840) diff --git a/old/69840-0.txt b/old/69840-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index ab1757f..0000000 --- a/old/69840-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,12927 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Piccinino, Volume 02 (of 2); The -last of Aldinis, 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 02 (of 2); The last of Aldinis - The masterpieces of George Sand, volume 8 - -Author: George Sand - -Translator: G. Burnham Ives - -Illustrator: Oreste Cortazzo - -Release Date: January 19, 2023 [eBook #69840] - -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 02 (OF -2); THE LAST OF ALDINIS *** - - -THE MASTERPIECES OF - -GEORGE SAND - - - - -AMANDINE LUCILLE AURORE DUPIN, -BARONESS DUDEVANT - - - - -VOLUME VIII - - - - -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 TWELVE PHOTOGRAVURES AFTER PAINTINGS BY -ORESTE CORTAZZO._ - - - - -_VOLUME II_ - - - - -_PRINTED ONLY FOR SUBSCRIBERS BY -GEORGE BARRIE & SON -PHILADELPHIA_ - - - - -[Illustration: _SIGNORA ALDINI AND HER GONDOLIER._ - -_I saw the blood come and go in the signora's -cheeks as I took the oar and eagerly pushed against -the marble steps which seemed to flee behind us._] - - - - -CONTENTS -THE PICCININO -CHAPTER -XXXVI. THE FAMILY PORTRAITS -XXXVII. BIANCA -XXXVIII. A COUP DE MAIN -XXXIX. AN IDYLL -XL. DECEPTION -XLI. JEALOUSY AND GRATITUDE -XLII. AN EMBARRASSING CONJUNCTURE -XLIII. A CRISIS -XLIV. REVELATIONS -XLV. MEMORIES -XLVI. GLADNESS OF HEART -XLVII. THE VULTURE -XLVIII. THE MARQUIS -XLIX. DANGER -L. A NOCTURNAL JOURNEY -LI. CATASTROPHE -LII. CONCLUSION -THE LAST OF THE ALDINIS -INTRODUCTION -FIRST PART -SECOND PART - - - -LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS - -THE PICCININO -THE LAST OF THE ALDINIS - -VOLUME II - -SIGNORA ALDINI AND HER GONDOLIER - -THE PICCININO RECEIVES MILA - -AGATHA PROTECTS MICHELANGELO - -NELLO ENTERS THE ALDINI PALACE - -THE STRANGE LUNCHEON - -ALEZIA VISITS CHECCHINA - - - - -THE PICCININO - -(_Continued_) - - - - -XXXVI - -THE FAMILY PORTRAITS - - -"Well," replied Michel, emboldened by his host's dignified arguments and -sincere kindliness, "I will tell you my whole thought; and I trust that -Master Barbagallo will permit me to speak before him, even though what I -have to say may be offensive to his beliefs. If the study of heraldic -science were a useful and moral study, Master Barbagallo, the favored -nursling of that science, would regard all men as equal before God, and -would recognize no distinction except between narrow-minded or wicked -and intelligent or virtuous men. He would appreciate fully the vanity of -titles and the very doubtful value of genealogical trees. He would have -broader views concerning the history of the human race, as we were -saying just now; and he would view that wonderful history with a glance -no less firm than impartial. Whereas, if I am not mistaken, he views it -with a certain narrowness of vision which I cannot accept. He esteems -nobility an excellent thing because it is privileged; he despises the -common people because they have no history and no memories. I will wager -that he despises himself by dint of admiring the grandeur of others, -unless he has discovered amid the dust of some library some document -which affords him the honor of deeming himself related in the fourteenth -degree to some illustrious family." - -"I have not that honor," said the majordomo, somewhat disconcerted. -"However, I have had the satisfaction of assuring myself that I am not -descended from ignoble stock; some of my male ancestors were men of -distinction in the clergy and in business." - -"I congratulate you most sincerely," said Michel, ironically; "for my -own part, it has never occurred to me to ask my father whether our -ancestors were sign-painters, beadles or majordomos. Indeed, I admit -that it is a matter of perfect indifference to me, and that I have never -had but one thought in that direction--namely, to owe any celebrity I -may attain to myself, and to create my own coat-of-arms with my palette -and brushes." - -"Good!" exclaimed the marquis, "a noble ambition. You aspire to be the -founder of a race illustrious in the arts, and to earn your own -nobility, instead of throwing it away, as so many poor creatures do who -are unworthy to bear a great name. But would you consider it a -disadvantage that your descendants should be proud to bear your name?" - -"Yes, signor marquis, I would, if my descendants were ignorant fools." - -"My friend," replied the marquis, very calmly, "I am aware that the -nobility has degenerated in all countries, and I do not need to tell you -that it is the less pardonable in proportion to the degree of -distinction that it had to bear and of grandeur to maintain. But is it -for us to call this or that social rank to book, or to attempt to decide -concerning the merit or lack of merit of the individuals who compose it? -The most interesting, and at the same time the most profitable course -for us all, in a discussion of this sort, would be to examine the -institution in itself. Will you not tell me your ideas, Michel, and -whether you approve or disapprove the distinctions established between -different classes of men?" - -"I approve them," said Michel, unhesitatingly, "for I aspire to -distinguish myself; but I disapprove any application of the principle of -heredity in such distinctions." - -"Of the principle of heredity?" repeated the marquis. "In so far as -fortune and power are concerned, I agree. That is a French idea--a bold -idea. I like such ideas! But in so far as regards disinterested renown, -honor pure and simple--will you allow me to ask you a few questions, my -boy? - -"Let us assume that Michelangelo Lavoratori, here present, was born only -two or three hundred years ago. Let us assume that he was the rival of -Raphael or Titian, and that he left a name worthy to stand beside those -glorious names. I will assume, also, that this palace in which we now -are belonged to him, and that it has remained in his family. Lastly, let -us assume that you are the last scion of that family, and that you do -not cultivate the art of painting. Your inclinations have turned you -toward some other profession, or perhaps you have no profession, for you -are rich; the noble works of your illustrious ancestor produced a -fortune which his descendants have faithfully transmitted to you. You -are standing here under your own roof, in the portrait gallery in which -your ancestors have their places one after another. Moreover, you know -the history of all of them. It is contained in manuscripts which have -been carefully preserved and handed down in your family. - -"Let us suppose, further, that I, a child picked up on the steps of a -hospital, wander into this palace. I am ignorant of my father's name, -and even of that of the unfortunate creature who gave birth to me. I -have no ties whatever that bind me to the past, and, born but yesterday, -I gaze with surprise upon this succession of ancestors from whom you -have descended through well-nigh three centuries. I question you in -open-mouthed wonder, and I am even inclined to make sport of you for -living thus with the dead and through the dead; and I doubt whether this -brilliant lineage has not deteriorated a little in the lapse of time. - -"You answer me by pointing with pride to the founder of your race, the -illustrious Michelangelo Lavoratori, who, from nothing at all, had -become a great man, and whose memory will never perish. Then you tell me -a fact at which I marvel greatly: that the sons and daughters of this -Michel, overflowing with veneration for their father's memory, chose to -be artists too. One was a musician, another an engraver, a third a -painter. If they did not receive from heaven the same talents as their -father, they did at all events retain in their hearts and transmit to -their children respect and love for art. Their children, in their turn, -did likewise, and all these talents, all these mottoes, all these -biographies, which you exhibit to me and explain to me, present the -spectacle of several generations of artists, eager to maintain the -standard of their hereditary profession. Unquestionably only a few among -all these seekers after glory were truly worthy of the name they bore. -Genius is an exception, and it takes you but a short time to point out -to me the small number of noteworthy artists who have upheld by their -own labors the glory of your family. But that small number has been -sufficient to replenish your generous blood, and to maintain in the -ideas of the intermediate generations a certain fire, a certain pride, -a certain thirst for grandeur which may still produce distinguished men. - -"But I, a foundling, isolated in the vast expanse of time--I continue my -apologue,--a natural scorner of all hereditary celebrity, seek to lower -your pride. I smile with an air of triumph when you admit that this or -that ancestor, whose portrait impresses me by its air of innocence, was -never anything more than a paltry genius, a narrow-minded creature; that -a certain other, whose rakish dress and bristling moustache I do not -like, was a black sheep, a fool or a fanatic; in short, I give you to -understand that you are a degenerate artist, because you have not -inherited the sacred fire, and that you have fallen asleep in a -luxurious _far niente_, contemplating the fruitful life of your -forefathers. - -"Thereupon you reply to me; and you will allow me to place in your mouth -a few words which seem to me not devoid of sense: - -"'I am nothing at all in myself; but I should be even less had I not a -venerable past to lean upon. I am overborne by the apathy natural to -minds devoid of inspiration; but my father taught me one thing which -passed from his blood into mine: that I come of a distinguished family, -and that if I could do nothing to renew its splendor, I should, at all -events, abstain from tastes and ideas which might tarnish it. In default -of genius, I have respect for family tradition, and, having no ground -for pride in myself, I repair the wrong which my nullity might inflict -upon my ancestors by bestowing a sort of adoration upon them. I should -be a hundred times more guilty if, caring naught for my ignorance, I -should shatter their images and profane their memory by airs of -contempt. To deny one's father because one cannot equal him is the act -of a fool or a dastard. On the other hand, it is a pious duty to invoke -his memory in order to obtain forgiveness for being less eminent than -he; and the artists with whom I consort and to whom I have no works of -my own to show, listen to me with interest, at all events, when I speak -to them of the works of my ancestors.' - -"That is the answer you would make to me, Michel, and do you think that -it would have no effect upon me? It seems to me that if I were the poor, -abandoned child that I have imagined, I should fall into profound -melancholy, and should complain of fate for having dropped me upon the -earth alone, and, so to speak, without sponsors. - -"But I pass to a less ponderous apologue, and one better adapted to your -artistic imagination, which, however, I beg you will interrupt -immediately if you have already heard it. The anecdote has been -attributed to several persons cut after the pattern of Don Juan, and as -old stories are rejuvenated from generation to generation, it has been -told recently of Cæsar de Castro-Reale, the _Destatore_, the famous -brigand, who was no ordinary man either in good or evil. - -"At Palermo, in the days when he sought to deaden his faculties in wild -dissipation, uncertain whether he should succeed in making a perfect -brute of himself, or should decide to raise the standard of rebellion, -it is said that he went one evening to visit a venerable palace which he -had just lost at play, and which he wished to see once more before -leaving it never to return. It was the last remnant of his fortune, and -perhaps the only thing which caused him the slightest regret; for it was -there that he had passed his early years, there that his parents had -died, there that the portraits of his ancestors were buried in the dust -of long neglect. - -"He went there to notify his steward to receive on the morrow, as the -proprietor of the estate, the nobleman who had won it on a cast of the -dice.--'What,' said the steward, who, like Master Barbagallo, had a -profound respect for family traditions and portraits; 'you have staked -everything, even your father's grave, even the portraits of your -ancestors?' - -"'Staked and lost everything,' replied Castro-Reale, heedlessly. -'However, there are a few articles which I am able to redeem, and my -successful adversary will not haggle over them. Let us look at these -family portraits! I have forgotten all about them. I used to admire them -at a time when I knew nothing about such things. If there are some which -have merit, I will set them aside and make some arrangement with their -new owner. Take a light and follow me.' - -"The steward, agitated and trembling, followed his master through the -dark and deserted palace. Castro-Reale strode before, with arrogant -assurance; but they say that he had drunk immoderately on arriving at -his palace, in order to provide himself with a store of stoicism or -recklessness that should last to the end. He himself opened the rusty -door, and seeing that the hand trembled in which the old majordomo held -the light, he took it in his own and held it on a level with the face of -the first portrait in the gallery. It was a fierce warrior armed from -top to toe, with a broad ruffle of Flemish lace over his iron cuirass. -See! here he is, Michel, for the same pictures which play a part in my -narrative are here before your eyes; they are the same which were sent -from Palermo to me, as the last heir of the family." - -Michel looked at the old warrior and was impressed by his masculine -features, his bristling moustache, and his stern appearance. - -"Well, your excellency," he said, "that decidedly unamiable and ungenial -face gave the _dissoluto_ food for reflection, I doubt not?" - -"Especially," replied the marquis, "as the face became animated, the -eyes rolled angrily in their dark orbits, and the lips uttered these -words in a sepulchral voice: '_I am not pleased with you!_' Castro-Reale -shuddered and recoiled in terror; but, deeming himself the dupe of his -own imagination, he passed to the next portrait and looked it in the -face with an insolence bordering on madness. It was an ancient and -venerable abbess of the Ursulines of Palermo, a great-great-aunt, who -died in the odor of sanctity. You can see her, Michel, yonder on your -right, with her veil, her gold cross, her yellow face wrinkled like -parchment, her piercing and imperious eyes. I fancy that she says -nothing to you; but when Castro-Reale raised the candle to her face, she -blinked her eyes as if dazzled by the sudden light, and said to him in a -strident voice: '_I am not pleased with you!_' - -"This time the prince was frightened; he turned to the steward, whose -knees were knocking against each other. But, determined to struggle on -against these warnings from the supernatural world, he suddenly -confronted a third portrait, that of the old magistrate, whom you see -beside the abbess. He put his hand on the frame, not daring to look too -long at the ermine cloak which is hardly distinguishable from the long -white beard; but he tried to shake him, saying: '_And you?_' - -"'_Nor am I_,' replied the magistrate, in the crushing tone of a judge -pronouncing sentence of death. - -"Castro-Reale dropped his candle, they say, and, unconscious of what he -did, stumbling at every step, went on to the end of the gallery, while -the poor majordomo, frozen with fear, stood dumb and motionless at the -door by which they had entered, daring neither to follow him nor to -abandon him. He heard his master stumbling along in the darkness, at an -uneven, hurried gait, colliding with the furniture and muttering curses; -and he also heard each portrait apostrophize him as he passed with the -terrible, monotonous words: '_Nor am I!_--_Nor am I!_--_Nor am I!_'--The -voices grew fainter as they receded along the gallery; but all repeated -the fatal sentence distinctly, and Castro-Reale was unable to escape -that long series of maledictions, which not one of his ancestors spared -him. It took him a long while, it seems, to reach the door at the other -end. When he had passed through it and closed it violently behind him, -as if he thought that he was pursued by spectres, silence reigned once -more; and, so far as my knowledge goes, these portraits have never -recovered the power of speech from that day to this." - -"Tell the rest, tell the rest, your excellency!" cried Fra Angelo, who -had listened to this narrative with gleaming eyes and parted lips; for -despite his intelligence and the education he had received, the -ex-brigand of Ætna was too much of a monk and too much of a Sicilian -not to believe it to a certain extent; "tell him that after that moment -neither the steward of the palace of Castro-Reale, nor any inhabitant of -the province of Palermo ever saw the Prince of Castro-Reale again. There -was, at the end of the gallery, a drawbridge which they heard him cross, -and as his plumed hat was found floating on the water, they concluded -that he was drowned, although they searched in vain for his body." - -"But the lesson had a more salutary effect," added the marquis. "He fled -into the mountains, organized a band of partisans, and fought there ten -years, to rescue, or, at all events, to avenge his country. False or -true, the story was current for a long while, and the new owner of -Castro-Reale believed it in so far that he preferred not to keep these -terrible family portraits, and sent them to me at once." - -"I do not know whether the story is authentic," said Fra Angelo. "I -never dared ask the prince; but it is perfectly certain that his -determination to become a partisan came to him in the manor-house of his -ancestors the last time that he visited it. It is certain, too, that he -experienced some violent emotion there, and that he did not like to have -anybody mention his ancestors to him. It is certain, too, that his mind -was never sound after that night, and that I have often heard him say, -in his days of depression: 'Ah! I ought to have blown out my brains when -I crossed the drawbridge of my palace the last time!'" - -"Surely that is all the truth there is in this fanciful tale," said -Michel. "But no matter! Although there is not the slightest connection -between these illustrious individuals and my humble self, and although I -am not aware that I have any reason to reproach myself with respect to -them, I should be a little disturbed, it seems to me, if I had to pass -the night alone in this gallery." - -"For my part," said Pier-Angelo, "I am not ashamed to say that I don't -believe a word of this story; and yet, if the signor marquis would give -me his fortune and his palace to boot, I wouldn't take them on the -condition of having to remain here alone an hour, after sunset, with the -lady abbess, the magistrate, and all these illustrious monks and -soldiers. The servants have tried more than once to lock me in here for -their own amusement; but I have never let them catch me, I would jump -out of window first." - -"And what are we to conclude from all this, with respect to the -nobility?" said Michel to the marquis. - -"We conclude, my child," replied the Marquis della Serra, "that -privileged nobility is an injustice, but that family traditions and -memories have much force, usefulness and beauty. In France they obeyed a -noble impulse when they invited the nobles to burn their letters patent, -and the nobles performed a duty imposed by tact and good taste by -consummating the holocaust; but afterward they broke open tombs, exhumed -dead bodies, and even insulted the image of Christ, as if the -resting-place of the dead were not sacred, and as if the Son of Mary -were the patron of the great nobles only and not of the poor and lowly. -I forgive all the frenzies of that revolution, and I understand them -better, perhaps, than those persons who have discoursed of them to you, -my young friend; but I also know that the philosophy which guided it was -not very complete or very deep, and that, with respect to the idea of -nobility, as with respect to all other ideas, it was much more -successful in destroying than in building up, in uprooting than in -sowing. Let me say another word to you on this subject, and then we will -go and have some ices out of doors, for I am afraid that all these dead -men and women bore and depress you." - - - - -XXXVII - -BIANCA - - -"Look you, Michel," said the marquis, taking Pier-Angelo's hand in his -right hand and Fra Angelo's in his left; "all men are noble! And I would -stake my head that the Lavoratori family is quite as good as the family -of Castro-Reale. If we are to judge the dead by the living, surely here -are two men who must have had men of worth, men of heart and brain for -ancestors; whereas the _Destatore_, a mixture of great qualities and -deplorable faults, prince and bandit, repentant devotee and desperate -suicide by turns, as surely gave the lie many a time to the nobility of -the haughty personages whose images surround us. If you are rich some -day, Michel, you will begin a family gallery without realizing it, for -you will paint these two noble faces, your father's and your uncle's, -and you will never sell them!" - -"And his sister's!" cried Pier-Angelo; "he will not forget hers either, -for it will serve some day as a proof that our race was not unpleasant -to look upon." - -"Well," continued the marquis, still addressing Michel, "do you not -consider that you have every reason to regret that you do not know the -story of your father's and your uncle's father?" - -"He was a worthy man!" cried Pier-Angelo; "he was once a soldier, then -an honest mechanic, and I knew him as a most excellent father." - -"And his brother was a monk like myself," said Fra Angelo. "He was pious -and wise; my memory of him had great influence on me when I was -hesitating about taking the frock." - -"There you see the influence of family memories!" said the marquis. "But -your grandfather and great-uncle, my friends, what were they?" - -"As for my great-uncle," replied Pier-Angelo, "I don't know that I ever -had one. But my grandfather was a peasant." - -"What was his life?" - -"I was told in my childhood probably, but I don't remember." - -"And your great-grandfather?" - -"I never heard of him." - -"I have a vague remembrance that we had a great-great-grandfather who -was a sailor, and one of the bravest of sailors. But his name has -escaped me. For us the name of Lavoratori dates back but two -generations. It is a sobriquet like most plebeian names. It marks the -transition from one trade to another in our family, when our grandfather -ceased to be a peasant in the mountains to become a mechanic in the -town. Our grandfather's name was Montanari; that was a sobriquet too. -His grandfather had a different name, doubtless. But at that point -everlasting night begins for us, and our genealogy enters into oblivion -so complete that it is equivalent to non-existence." - -"Even so," rejoined the marquis; "you have summed up the whole history -of the common people in the example of your family. Two or three -generations are conscious of a connecting bond; but all those which -preceded and all those which will follow are strangers to them forever. -Do you consider that just and as it should be, my dear Michel? Is not -this utter neglect of the past, this heedlessness of the future, this -absence of interest in the intermediate generations, a sort of -barbarism, an uncivilized condition of affairs, indicating a most -revolting contempt for the human race?" - -"You are right, and I understand you, signor marquis," Michel replied. -"The history of each family is the history of the human race, and -whoever knows one knows the other. Certainly the man who knows his own -ancestors, and who derives from a scrutiny of their successive -existences a series of examples to follow or to shun, has, so to speak, -a more intense and more complete life in his heart than he who can refer -only to two or three vague and intangible shadows of the past. Therefore -nobility of birth is a great social privilege; if it imposes grave -duties, it furnishes vast enlightenment and vast powers. The child who -spells out the knowledge of good and evil in books written with the -blood which flows in his own veins, and in the features of the painted -faces which reflect his own image like mirrors in which he loves to -recognize himself, should always become a great man, or at least, as you -said, a man enamored of true grandeur, which is an acquired virtue -supplying the place of inborn virtue. I realize now what there is that -is true and estimable in this principle of heredity which binds the -generations together. What there is in it that is unfortunate, I will -not remind you; you know it better than I." - -"What there is unfortunate I will tell you myself," replied the marquis. -"There is the fact that nobility is an exclusive privilege which all -families do not share; that established distinctions rest upon a false -principle, and that the peasant hero does not win fame and have his name -inscribed in history like the patrician hero; that the domestic virtues -of the workingman are not recorded in a book that is always open to his -posterity; that the poor and virtuous mother of a family, lovely and -chaste to no purpose, does not leave her name and her image on the walls -of her hovel; that that hovel of the poor man is not even assured to his -descendants as a place of refuge; that all men are not wealthy and free, -so that they may consecrate thought, monuments and works of art to the -worship of their past; lastly, that there is no such thing as the -history of the human race, but only of a few names rescued from -oblivion, which are called illustrious names, heedless of the fact that -at certain times whole nations become illustrious under the influence of -the same deed and the same idea. Who can tell us the names of all the -enthusiastic, noble hearts who have thrown aside the spade or the hoe to -go to fight the infidel? You have ancestors among them, I doubt not, -Pier-Angelo, and you know nothing of them! Or the names of all the -sublime monks who have preached the law of God to savage peoples? Your -ancestors are among them, Fra Angelo, and you know nothing of them! Ah! -my friends, how many noble hearts are stilled forever, how many noble -deeds buried in oblivion without advantage to those who live to-day! How -melancholy and disastrous is this impenetrable darkness of the past to -the common people, and how my heart aches to think that you are probably -descended from the blood of brave men and martyrs, although you cannot -find the faintest trace of their passage upon the paths you follow -through life! Whereas I, who am not so good a man as you, can learn from -Master Barbagallo what ancestor of mine was born or died this month five -hundred years ago! Consider! On one side the unmitigated abuse of this -worship of the patrician; on the other the horror of a vast grave which -swallows up without distinction the consecrated bones and the impure -bones of the common people! Oblivion is a punishment which should be -visited upon the wicked only, and yet it is visited upon no one in our -haughty families; whereas in yours it overtakes the most virtuous! -History is confiscated to our profit, and you people seem to have no -connection whatever with history, which, however, is your work more than -ours!" - -"Well," said Michel, deeply moved by the marquis's ideas and sentiments, -"you have given me for the first time a true conception of nobility. I -always attributed it to a few glorious personalities, who must be -separated from their race. Now I can imagine lofty and generous -thoughts, succeeding one another from generation to generation, -connecting the generations with one another, and making as much account -of humble virtues as of brilliant deeds. That is judging as God judges, -signor marquis, and if I had the honor and the misery to be of noble -birth--for it is a grievous burden to him who comprehends it--I should -like to see and think as you do." - -"I thank you," replied the marquis, taking his hand and leading him out -on the terrace of his palace. Pier-Angelo and Fra Angelo looked at each -other with deep emotion; both had understood the full scope of the -marquis's ideas, and they felt strengthened and uplifted by this new -aspect which he had given to life, collective and individual alike. As -for Master Barbagallo, he had listened with religious respect, but had -understood absolutely nothing; and he went away wondering how one could -be noble without a palace, without parchments, without a coat of arms, -and above all else, without family portraits. He concluded that the -nobility could not do without wealth: a marvellous discovery which -fatigued him much. - -At that moment, as the beak of a great pelican of gilded wood, which did -duty as hour hand on a monumental clock in the gallery of the Della -Serra palace, marked four o'clock in the afternoon, the Piccinino was -thinking that his five or six repeating watches must be slow, so -impatiently did he await Mila's arrival. He went from the English watch -to the Geneva watch, disdaining the Catanian watch which he might have -purchased with his money--for the Catanians are watch-makers as well as -the Genevans--and from the one surrounded with diamonds to the one -adorned with rubies. Being a connoisseur in jewels, he laid claim to -none but articles of the most exquisite quality from the booty taken by -his men. Thus no one knew the time better than he, who was so keen to -make the most of it, and to employ his moments most methodically, in -order to lead side by side a life of study and of meditation, a life of -adventures, intrigues, and _coups de main_, and a life of pleasure and -of lust, which he neither could nor wished to enjoy otherwise than in -secret. - -Fierce to the point of despotism in his impatience, he was as intolerant -of having to wait himself as he was fond of making others wait and of -worrying them by skilfully devised delays. This time, however, he had -yielded to the necessity of coming first to the rendezvous. He could not -be sure that Mila would have the courage to wait for him, or to enter -his house if he were not there himself to meet her. He went to the gate -more than ten times, and angrily retraced his steps, afraid to leave the -wooded road that bordered his garden, lest, if he should meet anyone, he -should seem to be intent upon some design. The leading principle in his -scheme of life was always to appear calm and indifferent in the eyes of -placid people, always distraught and preoccupied in the eyes of -busybodies. - - -[Illustration: _THE PICCININO RECEIVES MILA._ - -_He strode toward Mila with an imperious air, -seized the rein of her mule, and, taking the girl in -his arms as soon as she was in front of his garden -gate, lifted her to the ground, pressing her lovely -body with something very like violence._] - - -When Mila at last appeared at the top of the green path which descended -sharply to his orchard, he was really angry with her, for she was a -quarter of an hour late, and, thanks to the Piccinino's discernment or -fascinations, there was not one among the fair maidens of the mountain -who would have allowed him to be first at the rendezvous in a -love-affair. The brigand's unruly heart was inflamed therefore with -ill-disguised rage; he forgot that he was not dealing with a mistress, -and he strode toward Mila with an imperious air, seized the rein of her -mule, and, taking the girl in his arms as soon as she was in front of -his garden gate, lifted her to the ground, pressing her lovely body with -something very like violence. - -But Mila, partly opening the folds of her double mantle of muslin, gazed -at him in surprise. - -"Are we in danger already, my lord?" she said, "or do you think that I -have brought anyone with me? No, no! See, I am alone, I have come with -perfect confidence in you, and you have no reason to be displeased with -me." - -The Piccinino recovered his self-control as he looked at Mila. She had -ingenuously arrayed herself in her Sunday garb to appear before her -protector. Beneath her purple-velvet waist could be seen a second waist -of a pale blue, embroidered and laced with excellent taste. A light net -of gold thread confined her beautiful hair, in accordance with the -fashion of the province, and to protect her face and her costume from -the sun's scorching heat, she had enveloped herself in the _mantellina_, -a thin veil of ample proportions, which covers the head and the whole -body, when it is skilfully arranged and worn with grace. The Piccinino's -sturdy mule, bearing a flat saddle of velvet trimmed with gilt nails, -upon which a woman could easily ride sidewise, was panting and restive, -as if proud to have borne and to have saved from all danger so lovely a -rider. It was easy to see, from his foam-flecked sides, that little Mila -had not spared him, or that she had bravely trusted to his zeal. It had -been a dangerous ride, however: ridges of lava to cross, torrents to -ford, precipices to skirt. The mule had taken the shortest path; he had -climbed and leaped like a goat. Mila, seeing how strong and adroit he -was, could not, despite her anxiety, avoid that intense and mysterious -pleasure which women find in danger. She was proud of having felt -physical courage spring to life within her with moral courage; and while -the Piccinino admired the brilliancy of her eyes, and of her cheeks -flushed by the exercise, she, thinking only of the merits of the white -mule, turned and kissed him on the nose, saying: "You are worthy to -carry the pope!" - -The brigand could not help smiling, and he forgot his anger. - -"Dear child," he said, "I am very glad that my good Bianca pleases you, -and now I think that she would be worthy to eat from a golden manger, -like the charger of a Roman emperor. But come quickly; I don't wish -anyone to see you come in here." - -Mila docilely quickened her pace, and when the brigand had led her -across his garden, after securely locking the gate, she allowed him to -escort her into his house, whose neatness and coolness delighted her. - -"Is this your own house, pray, my lord?" she asked him. - -"No," he replied, "we are in Carmelo Tomabene's house, as I told you; -but he is my debtor and my friend, and I have a room under his roof to -which I sometimes retire when I need rest and solitude." - -He led her through the house, which was arranged and furnished in rustic -fashion, but with an orderly, substantial, homelike appearance which the -dwellings of rich peasants seldom display. At the end of the ventilating -corridor, which ran from end to end of the upper floor, he opened a -double door, the inner one being bound with iron, and ushered Mila into -the truncated tower which he had incorporated into his house, so to -speak, and where he had fitted up a dainty and mysterious boudoir. - -No princess ever possessed one more sumptuous, more sweetly perfumed or -adorned with rarer objects. But no artisan had ever put his hand to it. -The Piccinino himself had concealed the walls beneath hangings of -Oriental silk stitched with gold and silver. The divan of yellow satin -was covered with the skin of a huge royal tiger, whose head startled the -girl at first; but she soon grew bold enough to touch its scarlet-velvet -tongue, its eyes of enamel, and to sit upon its black-striped side. Then -she gazed about with dazzled eyes at the gleaming weapons, the Turkish -sabres adorned with jewels, the pipes with gold tassels, the -chafing-dishes, the China vases, the innumerable objects of an exquisite -beauty, a magnificence or a singularity which appealed to her -imagination like the descriptions of enchanted palaces with which it was -filled. - -"All this is even more incomprehensible and more beautiful than anything -I have seen at the Palmarosa palace," she said to herself, "and surely -this prince is richer and even more illustrious than the princess. He -must be some claimant to the Sicilian crown, who is working secretly to -bring about the downfall of the Neapolitan government."--What would this -poor child have thought if she had known the source of that piratical -splendor! - -While she gazed at everything with the artless admiration of a child, -the Piccinino, who had bolted the door and lowered the Chinese shades at -the window, gazed at Mila with the utmost amazement. He had expected -that he would have to tell her the most incredible fables, the most -audacious lies, to induce her to follow him to his lair, and the -facility of his triumph began already to disgust him with it. To be -sure, Mila was the loveliest creature he had ever seen; but was her -perfect tranquillity due to impudence, or stupidity? Could so seductive -a creature possibly be ignorant of the effect her charms were certain to -produce? Could so young a maid risk a tête-à-tête of this sort -without a moment of fear or embarrassment? - -The Piccinino, observing that she had a very beautiful ring on her -finger, and thinking that he could follow the thread of her thoughts by -following the direction of her glances, said to her, with a smile: "You -love jewels, my dear Mila, and, like all girls, you think more of -personal adornment than of anything else in this world. My mother left -me a few trinkets of some value, which are in that lapis lazuli casket -by your side. Would you like to look at them?" - -"If I may without indiscretion, I would like to," Mila replied. - -Carmelo took the casket, placed it on the girl's knees, and, kneeling -beside her on the edge of the tiger's skin, he displayed before her eyes -a mass of necklaces, rings, chains and buckles which were thrown -pell-mell into the casket with a sort of superb contempt for such a -multitude of priceless objects, some of which were masterpieces of -old-fashioned carved work, others perfect treasures by reason of the -beauty and great size of the diamonds. - -"My lord," said the girl, running her inquisitive fingers over all this -wealth, while the Piccinino fastened his dry, inflamed eyes upon her at -close range, "you have too little respect for your mother's jewels. My -mother left me only a few bits of ribbon and a pair of scissors with -gold handles, which I preserve as relics, and which are very carefully -stowed away in my closet. If we had time before that accursed abbé -comes, I would put this casket in order." - -"Do not take that trouble," said the Piccinino; "indeed we have not -time. But you have time enough to take whatever you would like to keep." - -"I?" said Mila, with a laugh, replacing the casket on the mosaic table. -"What should I do with them? Not only should I, a poor silk-spinner, be -ashamed to wear a princess's jewels, which, by the way, being your -mother's, you should give only to your betrothed, but I should be very -much embarrassed with all these inconvenient trinkets. I like to look at -jewels, and, also, to touch them, as hens turn over with their claws -anything shiny that they see on the ground. But I prefer to see them on -somebody's else's neck and arms rather than my own. I should be so -embarrassed by them that even if I owned them I should never use them." - -"And you take no account whatever of the pleasure of owning them?" -queried the bandit, amazed at the result of his experiment. - -"To own things for which one has no use seems to me a very embarrassing -thing," said she; "and I cannot understand one's burdening one's life -with such gew-gaws, unless they are given to one as a sacred trust." - -"And yet you wear a very beautiful ring!" said the Piccinino, kissing -her hand. - -"Oh! monsignor," said the girl, withdrawing her hand with an offended -air, "are you worthy to kiss that ring? Forgive me for speaking to you -so, but it is not mine, as you see, and I must return it to Princess -Agatha to-night; she sent me to the jeweller's to get it." - -"I will wager," said the Piccinino, scrutinizing Mila with distrust and -suspicion, "that Princess Agatha overwhelms you with presents, and that -that is the reason why you despise mine!" - -"I despise nothing and nobody," replied Mila; "and when Princess Agatha -drops an embroidery needle or a bit of silk, I pick them up and treasure -them as relics. But if she should attempt to overwhelm me with handsome -presents, I should beg her to keep them for those who need them. But I -must tell the truth: she once gave me a beautiful locket in which I -carry some of my brother's hair. But I keep it out of sight, for I do -not care to wear any ornaments unsuited to my station in life." - -"Tell me, Mila," rejoined the Piccinino, after a moment's silence, "you -are no longer afraid, are you?" - -"No, my lord," she replied, confidently; "when I saw you on the road, -near this house, my fear left me. Before that I confess that I was -trembling all over, that I fancied that I saw that horrid abbé's face -behind every bush, and that I don't quite know how I ever got here. When -I saw how far good Bianca was carrying me, when I finally spied this -tower and these trees, I said to myself: 'Great God! suppose my -protector was unable to come! suppose that wicked abbé, who is capable -of anything, has had him arrested by the _campieri_, or murdered on the -road, what will become of me?' Then I was terrified, not only on my own -account, but because I look on you as our guardian angel, and because it -seems to me that your life is much more valuable than mine." - -The Piccinino, who had felt very cold, and, as it were, displeased with -Mila ever since her arrival, felt a slight thrill of emotion, and took -his seat beside her on the tiger's skin. - - - - -XXXVIII - -A COUP DE MAIN - - -"So you really feel a little sincere interest in me, do you, my child?" -he said, fastening upon her that dangerous glance of which he well knew -the power. - -"Sincere? yes, upon my soul!" replied the girl, "and I surely owe you -that much, after the interest you have displayed in my family." - -"And do you think that your family has the same feeling that you have?" - -"Why--how could it be otherwise? However, to tell the truth, no one has -ever mentioned you to me, and I do not know your secrets; they have -treated me like a tattling little girl; but you do me more justice, for -you see that I am not inquisitive, and that I do not even ask you who -you are." - -"And have you no desire to know? Isn't this one way of asking me?" - -"No, monsignor, I should not dare to ask you questions, and I prefer not -to know what my father has thought best not to tell me. I feel very -proud to work with you to ensure their safety, without trying to remove -the bandage with which they have covered my eyes." - -"That is very noble of you, Mila," said the Piccinino, beginning to feel -somewhat piqued by the girl's perfect tranquillity; "it is too noble, -perhaps!" - -"Why and how is it noble?" - -"Because you run great risks with unexampled imprudence." - -"What risks, monsignor? did you not promise me before God that you would -protect me from all danger?" - -"So far as that vile monk is concerned, I promise you on my life. But -have you no suspicion of other people?" - -"Yes, I have," said Mila, after a moment's reflection. "You mentioned at -the fountain a name that frightened me terribly. You spoke as if you had -some relations with the Piccinino. But you said to me again after that: -'Come without fear,' and I came. Not without fear, I admit, so long as I -was alone on the road. I fancy that I shall be afraid again when I go -away from here; but, as long as I am with you, I am not afraid of -anything; I feel very brave, and it seems to me that, if we were -attacked, I could help in defending ourselves." - -"Even against the Piccinino?" - -"Ah! I don't know about that. But, great heaven! is he likely to come -here?" - -"If he should come, it would be to punish the monk and protect you. Why -in heaven's name are you so terribly afraid of him?" - -"Really, I don't know; but among us, when a girl goes out into the -country alone, people make sport of her and say: 'Look out for the -Piccinino!'" - -"So you think that he murders young maids, do you?" - -"Yes, monsignor; for they say that they never come back from the place -he takes them to; or, if they do come back, that it would have been -better for them to have stayed." - -"And you hate him, I suppose?" - -"No, I do not hate him, because they say that he inflicts much injury on -the Neapolitans, and that if people only had the courage to help him he -would do the country a great deal of good. But I am afraid of him, which -is not the same thing by any means." - -"You have been told that he was very ugly, I suppose?" - -"Yes, because he has a long beard, and I think that he must resemble the -monk I detest so. But isn't the monk coming? When he has come I can go -away, can I not, monsignor?" - -"Are you in a hurry to go, Mila? do you find it so very unpleasant -here?" - -"Oh! not at all; but I should be afraid to go home after dark." - -"I will take you home." - -"You are very good, monsignor; I ask nothing better, provided that -nobody sees us. But about this Abbé Ninfo, are you going to do him any -injury?" - -"No injury. I presume that it would give you no pleasure to hear him -shriek?" - -"God in heaven! I do not want to see or be the cause of any cruel -treatment of the man; but if the Piccinino comes here, I am terribly -afraid there will be bloodshed. You smile, monsignor," said Mila, -turning pale. "Oh! now I am afraid! Pray send me away as soon as the -abbé has set foot in the house." - -"Mila, I swear to you that the abbé shall suffer no cruelty at my -hands. As soon as I have made sure of his person, the Piccinino will -come and take him away, a prisoner." - -"And is all this done by the Princess Agatha's orders?" - -"You ought to know." - -"In that case, my mind is at ease. She would not desire the death of the -lowest of men." - -"You are very compassionate, Mila; I thought that you were stronger and -prouder. So you would not have the courage to kill that man if he should -come here and insult you?" - -"Excuse me, monsignor," rejoined Mila, taking from her bosom a dagger -which the princess had given to Magnani the day before, and of which she -had succeeded in gaining possession without his knowledge: "I could not -see a man killed in cold blood without fainting, I think; but if I were -insulted, I think that my anger would carry me a long way." - -"So you prepared for war, did you, Mila? You had no confidence in me, I -see." - -"As in God, monsignor; but God is everywhere, and some unforeseen -accident might have prevented you from being here." - -"Do you know that it was very brave in you to come, Mila? and that if -people knew it----" - -"Well, my lord?" - -"Instead of admiring your heroism, they would blame your rashness." - -"There is one thing I know very well," said Mila, with a sort of playful -excitement, "and that is that, if people knew of my being closeted here -with you, I should be lost." - -"Doubtless! Slander----" - -"Slander and calumny! Half as much would be enough to cause a young girl -to be cried down and degraded forever." - -"And you felt sure that this expedition of yours would be enveloped -forever in impenetrable mystery?" - -"I relied upon your prudence, and I left the rest in God's hands. I know -very well that there are many risks to run; but did you not tell me that -it was a question of saving my father's life and the Princess Agatha's -honor?" - -"And you carried your devotion to the point of endangering your own -honor, without regret?" - -"Endangering it in public opinion? I prefer that to allowing those whom -I love to be killed and dishonored. As between them and myself, isn't it -better that I should be the victim? But what does all this mean, -monsignor? You speak to me in a very strange way; one would think that -you were rebuking me for believing in you and for doing what you advised -me to do." - -"No, Mila, I am questioning you. Forgive me for trying to understand you -and know you, so that I may esteem you as much as you deserve." - -"Very good; I will answer you frankly." - -"Well, my child, tell me everything. Did it not occur to you that I -might be setting a trap for you, and be luring you hither to insult you, -or, at least, to try to seduce you?" - -Mila looked the Piccinino in the face, trying to discover what could -possibly induce him to put forward such a supposition. If it was a -method of testing her, she considered it insulting; if it was a jest, -she considered it in very bad taste on the part of one who seemed to be -a man of superior intellect and of exalted rank. This was the decisive -moment for her and for him. If she had felt the slightest fear--and she -was not the woman to conceal it, like Princess Agatha--the Piccinino -would have grown bolder; for he knew that fear is the beginning of -weakness. But she looked him in the face with such frank fearlessness, -and with so brave an air of displeasure, that he was convinced at last -that he was dealing with a really strong and sincere character; and -thereafter he had not the slightest desire to open hostilities. He felt -that a battle of ruses with so straightforward a creature could have no -other result for him than shame or remorse. - -"Well, my child," he said, giving her hand a frank and friendly -pressure, "I see that you had a confidence in me which does honor to us -both. Will you permit me to ask you one more question? Have you a -lover?" - -"A lover? no, monsignor," replied Mila, blushing crimson; but she added, -without hesitation: "I may tell you, however, that there is a man whom I -love." - -"Where is he now?" - -"In Catania." - -"Is he rich--well-born?" - -"He has a noble heart and two stout arms." - -"And he loves you as you deserve to be loved?" - -"That does not concern you, monsignor; I will not answer that question." - -"However, you came here at the risk of losing his love?" - -"As you see, alas!" said Mila, with a sigh. - -"O women! are you really so much nobler than we men?" exclaimed the -Piccinino, rising. But he had no sooner glanced out of doors than he -took Mila by the hand. - -"Here's the abbé!" he said; "follow me. Why do you tremble so?" - -"Not with fear," she replied, "but with disgust and displeasure; but I -will follow you." - -They went down to the garden. - -"You will not leave me alone with him a single minute, will you?" said -Mila, as they left the house: "if he should so much as kiss my hand, I -should be forced to burn the place with a red-hot iron." - -"And I should be forced to kill him," rejoined the Piccinino. - -They walked under the arbor to an opening, where the Piccinino glided -behind the trellis, and so followed Mila to the garden gate. Emboldened -by his presence, she opened it and motioned to the abbé to enter. - -"Are you alone?" he said, making haste to put aside his monk's frock and -show how gallantly he was arrayed in black--a veritable musk-laden -abbé. - -She made no other reply than: "Come in quickly." No sooner had she -secured the gate than the Piccinino made his appearance, and never was -there a more disappointed face than Abbé Ninfo's. "Excuse me, -monsignor," said the Piccinino, assuming an air of simplicity which -surprised his companion; "I learned from my cousin Mila that you wished -to see my poor garden, and I determined to admit you myself. Excuse me, -it is only a peasant's garden, but the fruit trees are so old and so -fine that people come from all directions to see them. Unluckily, I have -an engagement, and I must go away in five minutes; but my cousin has -promised to do the honors of the house, and I will retire, with your -lordship's permission, as soon as I have offered you some wine and -fruit." - -"Do not put yourself out, my good man!" replied the abbé, reassured by -this speech. "Go about your business, and do not stand on ceremony. Go, -go at once, I say, I do not propose to incommode you." - -"I will go as soon as I can see you at table. Lord God! you will die of -the heat. Our roads are so rough! Come to the house; I will pour the -first glass for you, and then I will go, as your lordship kindly permits -me to do so." - -"My cousin will not go away until you are in the house," said Mila, in -obedience to a meaning glance from the Piccinino. - -The abbé, seeing that he could not get rid of his obsequious host -except by complying with his wish, passed through the arbor without an -opportunity to address a word or a glance to Mila; for the Piccinino, -still playing the part of a respectful peasant and zealous host, walked -between them. The abbé was ushered into a cool, dark room, where a -collation was served. But, as they entered, the Piccinino said in Mila's -ear: "Let me fill your glass, but do not so much as smell it." - -A topaz-hued muscatel glistened in a large decanter which stood in a -terra-cotta vessel filled with cold water. The abbé, who was somewhat -disturbed by the peasant's presence, emptied at a single draught, -without hesitation, the glass that was offered him. - -"Now," he said, "off with you at once, my boy! I should never forgive -myself for having caused you to break your engagement." - -"Come with me, Mila," said the Piccinino. "You must lock the gate after -me, for, if it should be left open, even for a moment, the children -would come in and steal my peaches." - -Mila did not wait to be asked twice to hurry after the Piccinino; but he -went no farther than the door of the room, and when he had closed it -behind him, he put his finger on his lips, and, applying his eye to the -keyhole, remained absolutely motionless. After two or three minutes he -rose, saying aloud: "It is all over!" And he threw the door wide open. - -Mila saw the abbé lying on the floor, with a purple face, and breathing -heavily. - -"Oh! my God!" she cried, "have you poisoned him, monsignor?" - -"No, indeed," replied Carmelo; "for we need a few words from him later. -He is only asleep, the dear man, but very sound asleep!" - -"Oh! do not speak so loud, monsignor: he sees us and hears us! His eyes -are open and staring at us." - -"And yet he doesn't know who we are, he has no comprehension of -anything. What good does it do him to see and hear, when nothing conveys -any meaning to his poor brain? Do not come near, Mila, if the paralyzed -viper still frightens you; for my part, I must study the effects of this -narcotic a little. They vary in different individuals." - -He walked calmly to the abbé's side, while Mila, completely bewildered, -remained in the doorway and watched him with dismay. He touched his -victim as the wolf sniffs before devouring. He made sure that the head -and hands passed speedily from intense heat to icy cold, that the face -lost its flush, that the respiration became regular and weak. - -"This is a good result," he said, as if speaking to himself; "and such a -weak dose! I am well satisfied with the experiment. This is very -preferable to blows, a struggle, shrieks stifled by a gag, isn't it, -Mila? A woman can look on at this sort of thing without an attack of -hysterics. This is the sort of method I like, and if it were well known, -nobody would use any other. But you must never mention it, Mila, do you -hear? for it might easily be abused, and no one, you see, no one could -protect himself against it. If I had chosen to put you to sleep like -this, it was entirely in my power to do it. Would you take a glass of -water from my hand now, if I should offer it to you?" - -"Yes, monsignor, I would accept it," replied Mila, taking this challenge -for a jest.--"He jests on all subjects," she said to herself. "He has a -satirical bent like Michel." - -"So you would be no more suspicious than this poor abbé?" continued the -Piccinino, in a preoccupied tone; for he was busily searching his -sleeper, with perfect self-possession. - -"You forbade me even to smell that wine," replied Mila; "so you -evidently had no purpose to play me a trick!" - -"Ah! here it is!" muttered the bandit, taking a wallet from the abbé's -pocket. "Don't be impatient, Mila; I must examine this." - -Seating himself at the table, he opened the wallet and took therefrom -divers papers, over which he cast his eye with tranquil celerity. - -"A report against Marc-Antonio Ferrara!--an obscure man; doubtless some -husband whose wife he wished to seduce! Here, Mila, here is my flint and -steel. Will you light the lamp and burn this? This Marc-Antonio will -never suspect that your fair hand saved him from imprisonment. - -"And this? Ah! this is more important; an anonymous warning, addressed -to the captain of the city, that the Marquis della Serra is planning a -conspiracy against the government! The dear abbé proposed to get rid of -the princess's cicisbeo, or to give him something to think about at all -events! The idiot! he doesn't even know enough to disguise his -handwriting! Burn it up, Mila; it shall not go to its address. - -"Another warning!" continued the Piccinino, still examining the wallet. -"The wretch! he proposed to have the gallant champion arrested who -brought him into relation with the Piccinino! This is worth saving. -Malacarne will see that he did well not to trust this hound's promises, -and that he would have been well punished for not reporting to his -chief. - -"I am surprised to find nothing against your father, Mila. Ah! yes, here -it is! The signor abbé's measures were all taken to strike his great -blow. This evening Pier-Angelo Lavoratori and--Fra Angelo too!--Ah! you -reckoned without your host, my friend! You did not know that the -Piccinino will never allow a finger to be laid on that shaven head! How -ill-informed you were! Why, Mila, this man, whom people look upon as a -monster of iniquity, is nothing but an idiot, upon my word!" - -"Of what did he accuse my father and my uncle?" - -"Of conspiring--always the same refrain; it is so worn out! There is one -thing that surprises me, and that is that the police continue to pay any -attention to this venerable nonsense. The police are as stupid as the -people who set them on." - -"Give me that, give me that, and I will burn it with right good will!" -cried Mila. - -"Here's another! Who is--Antonio Magnani?" - -Mila did not answer. She put out her hand so eagerly to seize and burn -this last denunciation, that the Piccinino turned and saw that her -cheeks were suffused with a sudden flush. - -"I understand," he said, giving her the paper. "But he ought to have -forwarded this denunciation before venturing to pay court to you. Always -too late, always beside the mark, poor man!" - -He opened and ran through several other papers which mentioned none but -unknown names, and which Mila burned without looking at them. But -suddenly he started and exclaimed: - -"Can it be? This in his hands? Good! I did not believe you capable of -making this capture. Excuse me, my dear abbé," he continued, putting in -his pocket a paper much more bulky than the others, with an ironical bow -to the miserable wretch lying at his feet, his mouth half-open and his -eye glassy and lifeless. "I honor you with my esteem to a certain point. -Really, I did not believe you capable of it!" - -Ninfo's eyes seemed to rekindle. He tried to move, and there was a sort -of rattle in his throat. - -"Ah! have we reached that stage?" said the Piccinino, putting the mouth -of the decanter of narcotized wine to his lips. - -"Did that wake you up? You set more store by that than by the fair Mila, -eh? In that case, you should have let love-making go, and should not -have come here instead of attending to your business! Sleep, I pray you, -your excellency, for if you understand what is going on, you will have -to die!" - -The abbé fell back upon the floor; his vitreous stare remained fastened -like that of a dead man on the Piccinino's ironical face. - -"He needs rest," said the latter to Mila, with a cruel smile; "let us -not disturb him any more." - -He secured the stout shutters at the windows with heavy padlocked iron -bars, and left the room with Mila, locking the door and putting the key -in his pocket. - - - - -XXXIX - -AN IDYLL - - -The Piccinino returned with his young companion to the garden, and, -having suddenly become pensive, sat down upon a bench and apparently -forgot her presence. And yet he was thinking of her, and this is what he -was saying to himself: - -"Would it not be an idiotic performance to allow this lovely creature to -go hence as calm and serene as she came? Yes, it would be an idiotic -performance for a man who was resolved upon her ruin; but I simply -wished to test the power of my glance and my voice to lure her into my -cage, like a beautiful bird whom one likes to examine close at hand, and -to whom one then restores its liberty, because one does not wish it to -die. There is always a touch of hatred in the violent desires a woman -arouses in us."--The Piccinino is still musing and meditating upon his -impressions.--"For victory, in such cases, is a matter of pride, and it -is impossible to fight, even in play, without a little temper.--But -there is no more of hatred than of anger or desire in the feeling this -child arouses in me. It does not even occur to her to be coquettish with -me. She is not afraid of me; she looks me in the face without blushing; -she is not agitated in my presence. If I abuse her isolation and her -weakness, she will defend herself badly perhaps, but she will go away -from here all in tears, and it may be will kill herself--for there are -some who kill themselves.--At all events she will detest the thought of -me and blush to have belonged to me. Now, a man like myself cannot -afford to be despised. Women who do not know him must fear him; they who -do know him must esteem him or love him; they who have known him must -regret him. To be sure, there is, on the border-line between presumption -and violence, an infinite enjoyment, a complete consciousness of -victory; but that is so on the border-line only: a hair's-breadth -beyond, and it is all bestiality and brutality. The moment that a woman -can accuse you of having resorted to force, she resumes her sway, -although conquered, and you risk becoming her slave because you have -been her master against her will. I have heard that there was something -of that sort in my father's life, although Fra Angelo would never tell -me anything definite about it. But everybody knows that my father lacked -patience and that he drank heavily. Those were the failings of his time. -We are more civilized and more adroit to-day. More moral? no, but more -refined, and, consequently, more irresistible. Would there be much skill -or much merit involved in obtaining from this girl what she has not as -yet accorded her lover? She is so trustful that the first half of the -road would be easy enough. Indeed, I have already gone halfway. She was -fascinated by my air of chivalrous virtue. She came here, she entered my -house, she sat by my side. But the other half is not simply difficult; -it is impossible. I could never make her desire to struggle with me; it -would never occur to her to yield in order to obtain. If she were mine, -I would dress her as a boy and take her with me hunting. At need she -would hunt the Neapolitan as she has hunted the abbé to-day. She would -soon be hardened. I should love her as a page; I should not look upon -her as a woman at all." - -"Well, monsignor," said Mila, a little annoyed by her host's long -silence, "are you waiting for the Piccinino to come? Can I not go away -now?" - -"Do you want to go?" replied the Piccinino, looking at her with a -distraught air. - -"Why not? You managed the affair so quickly that it is still early, and -I can return alone by daylight. I shall not be afraid now that I know -where the abbé is, and that he is incapable of coming after me." - -"Wouldn't you like me to escort you, at least as far as Bel-Passo?" - -"It seems to me quite unnecessary for you to put yourself out." - -"Very well, go, Mila; you are free, since you are in such haste to leave -me, and are so uncomfortable in my company." - -"No, signor, do not say that," replied the girl, artlessly. "I am highly -honored to be with you, and if it were not for the danger, which you -realize, of being spied upon and falsely accused, I should enjoy staying -with you; for it seems to me that you are sad, and I might at least -divert your thoughts. Sometimes Princess Agatha is sad too, and when I -would leave her alone, she says to me: 'Stay with me, little Mila; even -if we don't speak, your presence does me good.'" - -"Princess Agatha is sad sometimes? Do you know the reason?" - -"No; but I have an idea that she is bored to death." - -Thereupon the Piccinino asked many questions, which Mila answered with -her usual ingenuousness, but neither would nor could tell him anything -more than he had already heard; that is to say, that she lived a -virtuous, retired life, that she was very charitable, that she read a -great deal, that she loved the arts, and that she was gentle and placid, -almost to the point of apathy, in her external relations. But the -unsuspecting Mila added that she was sure that her dear princess was -more ardent and self-sacrificing in her affections than people thought; -that she had often known her to be moved to tears by the story of some -misfortune, or even by some touchingly simple anecdote. - -"For instance?" said the Piccinino; "give me an example." - -"Very well," said Mila; "one day I told her that there was a time when -we were very poor in Rome. I was only five or six years old then, and as -we had almost nothing to eat, I used sometimes to tell my brother Michel -that I was not hungry, so that he would eat my share. But Michel, -suspecting my motive, began to say that he was not hungry either; so -that we often kept our bread over night, neither of us being willing to -admit that we longed to eat it. And the result of that performance was -that we made ourselves more unhappy than we really were. I told the -princess this laughingly; suddenly she burst into tears and pressed me -to her heart, saying: 'Poor children! poor dear children!'--Tell me, -signor, if that shows the cold heart and dull mind that people say she -has?" - -The Piccinino took Mila's arm in his and walked about the garden with -her, leading her on to talk of the princess. His imagination was -engrossed by that woman who had made so deep an impression on him, and -he entirely forgot that Mila had occupied his thoughts and disturbed his -senses during a part of the day. - -Honest Mila, still convinced that she was talking to a sincere friend, -abandoned herself to the pleasure of praising the woman whom she loved -with enthusiasm, and _forgot that she was forgetting herself_, as she -expressed it, after walking about for an hour under the magnificent -trees in the garden at Nicolosi. - -The Piccinino had an impressionable brain and a fickle humor. His whole -life was a constant alternation of meditation and curiosity. The simple -and graceful conversation of Mila, her kindly thoughts, the generous -outflow of her affections, and an indefinable touch of grandeur of soul, -courage, and cheeriness of temperament, which she inherited from her -father and uncle, gradually fascinated the brigand. New horizons opened -before him, as if he were passing from the contemplation of a painful -and fatiguing drama to that of a placid and lightsome idyll. He was too -intelligent not to understand everything, even those things which were -most opposed to his instincts and habits. He had devoured Byron's poems. -In his dreams he had raised himself to the level of Don Juan and Lara; -but he had read Petrarch too, and knew him by heart; indeed he had -smiled instead of yawning, as he murmured to himself the _concetti_ of -_Aminta_ and the _Pastor Fido_. He felt soothed by his frank converse -with little Mila, even more than he ordinarily was when he resorted to -that sentimental nonsense to allay the tempests of his passions. - -But at last the sun began to sink. Mila thought of Magnani, and asked -leave to go. - -"Very well, _addio_, my sweet Mila," said the Piccinino; "but as we walk -back to the garden gate I propose to do for you in all seriousness what -I have never done for any woman, except from some selfish motive or in -mockery." - -"What is that, monsignor?" queried Mila, in amazement. - -"I propose to pluck a bouquet for you, a virginal bouquet, from the -flowers in my garden," he answered, with a smile, in which, if there was -a suspicion of mockery, it was directed at himself alone. - -To Mila this attention seemed much less surprising than it seemed to the -Piccinino. He plucked with care white roses, myrtle, and orange -blossoms; he picked the thorns from the roses; he selected the finest -flowers; and with more taste and skill than he would have given himself -credit for, he made a superb bouquet for his amiable guest. - -"Ah!" he said as he presented it to her, "we must not forget the -cyclamen. There must be some among this grass. No, no, Mila, do not -look; I want to pick them myself, so that the princess may enjoy -inhaling the perfume of my bouquet. For you must tell her that it comes -from me, and that it was the only attention which I ventured to offer -you, after a tête-à-tête of two hours in my house." - -"Then you do not forbid me to tell Princess Agatha that I have been -here?" - -"You must tell her, Mila. You must tell her everything. But her alone, -do you understand? Swear it on your salvation, for you believe in that, -do you not?" - -"Why, do not you believe in it, signor?" - -"I believe that I have earned the right to go to Paradise to-day, if I -should die at once; for my heart is as pure as a little child's since -you have been with me." - -"But, suppose the princess asks me who you are, monsignor, and whom I am -talking about--how shall I describe you so that she may know?" - -"You will tell her what I wish you also to know, Mila. But perhaps there -will be times hereafter when my face and my name will no longer be in -accord. Then you must hold your peace, and, at need, pretend that you -never saw me, for with a word you could cause my death." - -"God forbid!" cried Mila, effusively. "Ah! monsignor, rely on my -prudence and my discretion as if my life were bound to yours!" - -"Very well; say to the princess that it was Carmelo Tomabene who rescued -you from Abbé Ninfo, and who kissed your hand as respectfully as he -would kiss her own." - -"It is for me to kiss your hand, monsignor," replied the guileless -child, putting the brigand's hand to her lips, firmly persuaded that it -was at least a king's son who treated her with such condescending -courtesy; "for you are deceiving me," she continued. "Carmelo Tomabene -is a _villano_, and this house is no more yours than his name is. You -might live in a palace, if you chose, but you disguise yourself for -political reasons which I ought not to know, and do not wish to. I have -an idea that you will be King of Sicily some day. Ah! how I would like -to be a man and fight for your cause! for you will bring about the -happiness of your people, I am sure of it!" - -Mila's jesting extravagance caused a momentary madness in the brigand's -audacious brain. He had a touch of vertigo, and felt almost the same -emotion as if she had guessed the truth instead of dreaming a dream. But -instantly he laughed an almost bitter laugh, which did not dispel Mila's -illusions. She thought that it was an attempt to banish her rash -suspicions, and she frankly asked his forgiveness for the words that had -escaped her. - -"My child," he replied, kissing her on the brow and assisting her to -mount the white mule, "Princess Agatha will tell you who I am. I -authorize you to ask her; but, when you find out, remember that you are -my accomplice, or that you must send me to the gallows." - -"I would rather go myself!" said Mila, as she rode away, calling his -attention to the respectful kiss she bestowed upon his bouquet. - -"Well!" said the Piccinino to himself, "this has been the pleasantest -and most romantic adventure of my whole life. I have played the part of -a king in disguise, without showing it, without taking the trouble to -prepare for it, without making any arrangements to afford myself that -amusement. Unexpected pleasures are the only genuine ones, they say; I -begin to believe it. Perhaps it is because I have premeditated my -actions too much, and laid out my life beforehand too carefully, that I -have so often found ennui and distaste at the end of my undertakings. -Fascinating Mila! What a wealth of poesy, what freshness of the -imagination in your young brain! Oh! if only you were a youth of my own -sex! if I could keep you beside me without causing you to lose any of -your pleasant illusions and your blessed purity! I should find the sweet -companionship of a wife in a faithful comrade, without danger of -arousing or feeling the passion which poisons and destroys all -friendships! But such mortals do not exist. Woman cannot fail to be -treacherous; man cannot cease to be brutal. Ah! I always have missed--I -always shall miss--the being able to love some one. I should have had to -fall in with a mind different from all other minds and even more -different from my own--which is impossible! - -"Am I then an exceptional character?" he asked himself, following with -his eyes the prints of Mila's little feet on the gravelled paths of his -garden. "It seems to me that I am, when I compare myself with the -mountaineers with whom I am compelled to live, and with these bandits -whose leader I am. I have more than one brother among them, so it is -said. The fact that they have none of my qualities, makes it impossible -for me to believe it. The passions which serve as a bond between us -differ as much as our features and our bodily strength. They desire -booty in order to convert into money everything that is not money; and I -care for nothing which is not of value by reason of its beauty or its -rarity. What they succeed in obtaining they hoard because they are -miserly; I use it sparingly, so that I may be able to bear myself -royally with them on occasion, and extend my power and influence over -everyone about me. - -"Thus gold is to me only a means, while to them it is the end. They love -women as chattels, and I, alas! would fain be able to love them as human -beings! They are intoxicated with delight by acts of violence which make -me sick at heart, and by which I should be humiliated, knowing that I -have the power to please, and having never been compelled to force -myself upon anyone. No, no! they are no brothers of mine; if they are -the _Destatore's_ sons, they are the offspring of wild dissipation and -of his years of moral decadence. I am the son of Castro-Reale; I was -conceived on a day when his mind was lucid. My mother was not violated -like the rest. She abandoned herself to him willingly, and I am the -fruit of the intercourse of two free hearts, who did not give me life -against their wills. - -"But, in that world which is called society, and which I call the legal -community, are there not many persons of both sexes with whom I could -enter into relations, and so escape this ghastly solitude of my -thoughts? Are there not men of intelligence, endowed with keen -perception, whose friend I might be? Are there not many women, proud and -adroit, whose lover I might be, without being compelled to laugh at the -pains I had taken to overcome them? In a word, am I doomed never to find -emotion of any sort in this life which I embraced as being most fruitful -in violent emotions? Shall I always be obliged to expend endless stores -of imaginative power and of tact, in order to succeed in pillaging a -vessel on the coast or a party of travellers in the gorges of the -mountain? And all to obtain a multitude of petty trinkets, a little -money, and the hearts of a few Englishwomen, ugly or half-mad, who adore -adventures with brigands as a remedy for the spleen! - -"But I have closed to myself forever that world where I might find my -equals and my fellows. I can enter only through the secret doors of -intrigue, and, if I wish to appear there in broad daylight, I can do it -only on condition of being followed by the mystery of my past, that is -to say, by a sentence of death always hanging over my head. Shall I -leave the country? It is the only country where the trade of bandit is -more perilous than dishonorable. Anywhere else I shall be asked for -proof that I have always lived in legitimate society; and if I cannot -furnish it I shall be classed with the most degraded creatures who -wallow in the sloughs of their pretended civilization! - -"O Mila! how completely you have filled with grief and dismay this heart -upon which you have shed a ray of your sunlight!" - - - - -XL - -DECEPTION - - -Thus did that man, so ill-placed in life if we compare his intellectual -powers with his social position, torture himself with vain reflections. -Mental culture, which was his greatest enjoyment, was also his torment. -Having read everything that fell into his hands, without method and -without selection, and allowing himself to be impressed by everything in -turn, he was as learned in evil as in good, and he was insensibly -drawing near that scepticism which no longer believes absolutely in -either good or evil. - -He returned to his house to take certain precautions with respect to -Abbé Ninfo, so that, if the unexpected should happen, and his domicile -be invaded, there should be no traces of violence. He put the narcotized -wine out of sight, and filled the decanter with unadulterated wine, in -order that he might safely pretend to experiment upon himself at need. -He placed the abbé on a couch, extinguished the lamp, and swept up the -ashes of the papers Mila had destroyed. No one ever entered his house in -his absence. He had no regular servants, and the spotless neatness which -he himself maintained did not cost him much trouble, for he occupied -only a few rooms, and even those few he did not enter every day. He -worked in his garden, in his leisure moments, to keep himself in -condition, and to be consistent with his assumed rôle of peasant. He -had himself applied to all the issues of his abode a simple but -substantial system of fastening, calculated to resist for a long time -any attempt to force an entrance. Finally, he released two enormous and -savage mountain dogs, fierce beasts who knew nobody but him, and who -would infallibly have strangled the prisoner if he had tried to escape. - -Having taken these precautions, the Piccinino washed and perfumed -himself, and, before going down to the city, showed himself in the -village of Nicolosi, where he was highly esteemed by all the people. He -conversed in Latin with the priest, under the vine-clad arbor of the -vicarage. He exchanged sly jests with the pretty girls of the village, -who ogled him from their doorsteps. He held several consultations on -agriculture and general affairs with men of sense who appreciated his -intelligence and his extensive knowledge. As he left the village he fell -in with an officer of _campieri_, with whom he walked for some distance, -and who informed him that the Piccinino still succeeded in eluding the -pursuit of the police and the municipal brigade. - -Mila, eager to tell all her secrets to the princess, and to avail -herself of the mysterious prince's permission to ascertain their -meaning, travelled as quickly as Bianca was able to descend those steep -and dangerous slopes. It did not occur to her to hold the mule back; she -was too deeply absorbed in her meditations. Persons of pure heart and -tranquil mind must have noticed that, when they communicate their mental -disposition to perturbed and agitated minds, their own serenity is -diminished in proportion. They give only at the price of running in debt -themselves to some extent; for confidence is a matter of exchange, and -there is no heart so richly endowed and so powerful that it does not -risk something in gratifying its beneficent impulses. - -Gradually, however, pretty Mila's terror changed to joy. The Piccinino's -conversation had left an echo as of sweet music in her ears, and the -odor of his bouquet kept alive the illusion that she was still in that -rustic garden, under the shade of the black fig-trees and pistacias, -walking upon carpets of moss strewn with mallow, orchids and fraxinella, -sometimes catching her veil on the aloes and the twigs of the thorny -smilax, from which her host quickly detached it with respectful -courtesy. Mila had the simple tastes of her class, added to the tendency -to romance and poesy born of her intelligence. If the marble fountains -and statues of Villa Palmarosa appealed to her imagination, the -vine-clad arbors and wild apple-trees of Carmelo's garden spoke more -loudly to her heart. She had already forgotten the bandit's oriental -boudoir; she had not felt at her ease there as she had under the arbor. -He had been cold and satirical almost all the time in the boudoir, -whereas, among the flowering shrubs and beside the silvery spring, he -had displayed an artless mind and a tender heart. - -How did it happen that this girl, who had just seen such strange and -distressing things, a queen's boudoir in the house of a peasant, and the -ghastly scene of Abbé Ninfo's lethargy, no longer remembered what must -have impressed her imagination so profoundly? Her surprise and her -fright had vanished like a dream, and her mind was engrossed by the -final tableau, fresh and unsullied, where she saw naught but flowers, -greenswards, birds chattering among the leaves, and a handsome young man -who guided her through that enchanted labyrinth, conversing with her in -chaste and charming language. - -When Mila had passed the _Destatore's_ cross, she dismounted, as Carmelo -had advised her to do, as a measure of prudence. She fastened the reins -to the saddle-bow and waved a switch about Bianca's ears. The -intelligent beast started back at a gallop toward Nicolosi, needing no -guidance to return to her stable. Mila continued her journey on foot, -avoiding the neighborhood of Bel-Passo; but, by a veritable fatality, -Fra Angelo happened to be returning just then from the Della Serra -palace to his convent by a by-path, so that Mila suddenly found herself -face to face with him. - -The poor girl drew her _mantellina_ about her and began to walk very -fast, as if she had not seen her uncle. - -"Where have you been, Mila?" was the greeting which brought her to a -standstill, uttered as it was in a tone which admitted of no hesitation. - -"Why! uncle," she replied, putting aside her veil, "I didn't see you; -the sun was in my eyes." - -"Where have you been?" repeated the monk, not deigning to discuss the -probable truth of that reply. - -"Well, uncle," said Mila, resolutely, "I will not tell you a lie; I saw -you plainly." - -"I know it; but will you tell me where you have been?" - -"I have been to the convent, uncle. I was looking for you, and, not -finding you, I was going back to the city." - -"What was it that you were in such a hurry to say to me, my dear girl? -It must be very important, for you to dare to come out into the country -alone, contrary to your habit. Come, answer me! You say nothing! You -cannot lie, Mila!" - -"Yes, uncle, yes! I came----" And she stopped short, completely at a -loss, for she had made no preparations for this meeting, and her wits -abandoned her. - -"You are losing your head, Mila," rejoined the monk, "for I tell you -that you do not know how to lie, and you answer '_Yes!_' Thank heaven, -you don't know what you are saying! Do not try to lie, my child, but -tell me frankly where you have been." - -"Well, uncle, I cannot tell you." - -"Indeed!" cried Fra Angelo, with a frown. "I order you to tell me!" - -"It is impossible, dear uncle, impossible," said Mila, hanging her head, -crimson with shame, and with her eyes filled with tears; for it was very -painful to her to see her excellent uncle angry with her for the first -time in her life. - -"Then you wish me to believe that you have been doing either an insane -or a wicked thing!" - -"Neither!" cried Mila, raising her head. "I call God to witness!" - -"God!" repeated the monk, in a despairing tone. "How you pain me by -speaking so, Mila! Can you be capable of swearing a false oath?" - -"No, uncle, no, never!" - -"Lie to your uncle, if it seems best to you, but do not lie to God!" - -"Am I in the habit of lying, I ask you, then?" exclaimed the girl, -proudly; "and ought I to be suspected by my uncle, the man who knows me -so well, and for whose esteem I care more than for my life?" - -"In that case, speak!" rejoined Fra Angelo, grasping her wrist in a way -which he considered encouraging and paternal, but which bruised the -child's arm and extorted a cry of terror from her.--"Why this fright, -pray?" demanded the monk, in amazement. "Ah! you are guilty, girl. You -have just done--not anything sinful, I cannot believe that--but some -foolish thing or other, which is the first step on the pathway of evil. -If it were not so, you would not recoil from me in terror; you would not -have tried to hide your face when we met; above all things, you would -not have tried to lie! And now, as it is impossible for you to have any -innocent secret from me, you should not refuse to explain your actions." - -"But I tell you, uncle, that it is an entirely innocent secret, and -still it is impossible for me to tell you what it is. Do not ask me any -more questions. I would die before I would speak." - -"At all events, Mila, promise me that you will tell your father this -secret which I may not know!" - -"I cannot promise you that; but I swear that I will tell it to Princess -Agatha." - -"I have the greatest esteem and veneration for Princess Agatha," replied -the monk, "but I know that women are excessively indulgent to one -another in the matter of certain errors of conduct, and that virtuous -women are the more tolerant because of their ignorance of evil. I do -not, therefore, like the idea of your seeking shelter against shame on -your friend's bosom, instead of explaining your conduct to your family, -with head erect. Go, Mila; I insist no farther, since you have withdrawn -your confidence from me; but I pity you because your heart is not pure -and calm this evening as it was this morning. I pity my brother, whose -pride and joy you were; I pity your brother, who will soon have to -answer for your conduct before the world, I doubt not, and who will have -plenty of trouble on his hands unless he chooses to allow you to be -insulted on his arm. Woe, woe to the men of a family, when the women, -who should watch over its honor as the Vestals watched over the sacred -fire, break the laws of prudence, modesty and truth!" - -Fra Angelo passed on, leaving poor Mila, crushed by this malediction, -kneeling on the stones in the road, with bloodless cheeks and her bosom -heaving with sobs. - -"Alas!" she said to herself, "until this moment it seemed to me that my -conduct was not only innocent, but brave and praiseworthy. Oh! how harsh -the laws of modest reserve and the necessity of an unsullied reputation -are for women, since, even when it is a question of saving the lives of -one's family, one must expect to be blamed by those whom one loves best! -Was it wrong for me to trust to the _prince's_ promises? He may have -deceived me, it is true! But when his conduct has proved his honor and -his virtue, ought I to blame myself for believing in him? Was it not a -presentiment of the truth that led me toward him, and not mere foolish -and imprudent curiosity?" - -She kept on down the mountain, but, as she walked, she questioned her -conscience severely, and some scruples awoke within her. Had she not -been impelled by pride to accomplish a difficult and perilous enterprise -of which no one would have believed her to be capable? Had she not -allowed herself to be influenced by the stranger's comeliness and charm -of manner, and would she have had equal confidence in an older and less -eloquent man? - -"But what does it matter after all?" she said to herself. "What have I -done that is wrong, and what reproach could be brought against me if I -had been watched? I have run the risk of being misrepresented and -slandered, and that is certainly a fault when one does it from egotism -or a spirit of coquetry; but when one exposes oneself to danger to save -one's father and brother!--Princess Agatha will be my judge; she will -tell me whether I have done right or wrong, and whether she would have -acted as I did." - -But imagine poor Mila's dismay, when, as soon as she began her story, -the princess interrupted her, saying: "O my child! it was the -Piccinino!" - -Mila tried to struggle against the truth. She insisted that everybody -said that the Piccinino was short, thickset, awkwardly built, afflicted -with hideous ugliness, and that his face was darkened by bushy hair and -a beard; whereas the stranger's slight figure was so graceful and -refined, his manners so gracious and noble! - -"My child," said the princess, "there is a false Piccinino who plays the -part of his chief with people of whom his chief is suspicious, and who -would play it, at need, before the police and magistrates, if he should -fall into their hands. He is a repulsive, savage creature, who enhances, -by the horror of his appearance, the terror inspired by the expeditions -of the band. But the real Piccinino, the one who styles himself the -_justicier d'aventure_, and who directs all the operations of the -brigands of the mountain; the man whom nobody knows and as to whom, if -he should be captured, it would be impossible to prove that he had ever -been the leader or a member of the band, is a handsome, well-educated, -eloquent, dissipated and cunning young man; the same Carmelo Tomabene -with whom you talked at the fountain." - -Mila was so thunderstruck that she almost determined not to go on with -her story. How could she confess that she had been the dupe of a -hypocrite and had placed herself at the mercy of a libertine? She did -confess everything, however, with absolute sincerity, and, when she had -finished, began to weep afresh, thinking of the risks she had run, and -of the conjectures of which she would be the object if the Piccinino -should chance to boast of her visit. - -But Agatha, who had trembled with apprehension more than once as she -listened, and who had resolved to reprove her for her imprudence, by -pointing out to her that the Piccinino was too adroit to have really -needed her assistance, was disarmed by her ingenuous grief, and embraced -her warmly to comfort her. What impressed her quite as deeply as the -rashness of the girl, was the physical and moral courage which had -inspired her, her determination to take her own life at the slightest -suggestion of outrage, and her unbounded devotion and her generous -confidence. She thanked her affectionately therefore, because she had -been guided in part by the desire to deliver her from an enemy; and -finally, when she was fully assured that Abbé Ninfo was really in the -_justicier's_ power, she was so overcome by joy that she kissed little -Mila's hands, calling her her good fairy and her angel of salvation. - -Mila being thus comforted and reconciled with herself, the princess, in -an outburst of childlike merriment, proposed to her that she should -change her dress to assist her to recover from the fatigue of her -expedition, and that then they should go and surprise her father and -brother at the marquis's villa. - -"We will go on foot," she said, "for it is close by if we go by way of -the garden; and we will dine together first. Then we shall have the -darkness and cool breeze of early evening, and in addition a travelling -companion whom you do not expect perhaps, but whom you will not be sorry -to see, for he is a friend of yours." - -"I wonder who it can be," said Mila, with a smile; she guessed shrewdly -enough, but with respect to her heart's secret, and to that alone, she -recovered all the prudence of the feminine mind. - -The dinner and the preparations of the two friends occupied about an -hour; after which the maid came and whispered to the princess: "The -young man of last evening, at the end of the garden, by the eastern -gate." - -"That is right," said the princess, leading Mila away; "that is our -road." And they hurried across the park, joyous and light of heart; for -both were born again to the hope of happiness. - -Magnani was walking back and forth, melancholy and distraught, waiting -to be sent for to go to the palace, when two veiled women, issuing from -the clumps of myrtle and orange, ran to him, and grasping each an arm, -hurried him along with them without speaking. He recognized them -perfectly, the princess better than Mila, who seemed to him to be -dressed more elaborately than usual under her light cape; but he was too -deeply moved to speak, and he pretended to accept this gracious jest -gayly. A smile played about his lips, but his heart was troubled; and, -while he sought relief from the perturbation caused by Agatha's -presence, he derived but little assistance from feeling Mila's arm in -his. - -As they passed into the marquis's park, the princess put aside her veil -and said to him: - -"My dear friend, I intended to talk with you at my house; but my -impatience to announce some good news to our friends, who are visiting -the marquis, led me to bring you here with us. The whole evening belongs -to us, and I can talk with you here as well as elsewhere. But let us go -forward noiselessly; we are not expected and I want to surprise them." - -The marquis and his guests, after conversing a long time, were still on -the terrace looking out upon the sea, where the horizon was ablaze with -the last rays of the sun, while the stars appeared one by one in the -zenith. Michel was listening with deep interest to the marquis, whose -conversation was instructive, albeit always affable and unaffected. What -was his surprise when, on raising his head, he saw three persons seated -about the table, laden with refreshments, which he had just left to walk -to the balustrade, and when, in those three persons, he recognized -Agatha, Mila, and Magnani! - -At first he had no eyes except for Agatha, and hardly recognized his -sister and his friend. The princess was dressed, however, with the -utmost simplicity, in a dress of pearl-gray silk, with a _guardaspalle_ -of black lace thrown over her head and shoulders. She seemed to him a -little less fresh and youthful than she had appeared under the bright -lights. But, in a moment, the charm of her manner, her frank smile, her -pure and sincere glance, made her seem even younger and more attractive -than on the first day. - -"Are you surprised to see your dear daughter here?" she asked -Pier-Angelo. "But she told you, did she not, that she should not dine -alone? And you see! you left her at home, and like Cinderella, she -appears in the midst of the fête, resplendent in costume and beauty. As -for Master Magnani, he is the enchanter who attends her; but as we are -not dealing with Don Magnifico on this occasion, the enchanter will not -dazzle the father's eyes so that he will not recognize his cherished -daughter. Cinderella therefore can challenge the glances of all -present." - -As she spoke Agatha raised Mila's veil, and disclosed her _radiant as a -sun_; such is the expression of the legend. - -Michel looked at his sister. She was fairly beaming with confidence and -joy. The princess had arrayed her in a gown of bright pink silk, with -several strings of beautiful great pearls about her neck and arms. A -wreath of natural flowers, wonderfully beautiful and arranged with -consummate art, crowned her dark face without concealing the abundant -treasures of her hair. Her little feet were daintily shod, and her -pretty fingers opened and closed Agatha's splendid fan with as much -grace and dignity as any _marchesina_. She was a muse of the -Renaissance, a patrician maiden, and a lovely damsel of the South, -radiant with health, nobility, and poetic charm. - -Agatha looked at her with an air of motherly pride, and smiled lovingly -as she talked of her in Pier-Angelo's ear. - -Michel then turned his eyes upon Magnani. He was gazing alternately at -the modest princess and the lovely silk-spinner of the Catanian suburb -with extraordinary emotion. He was no better able than Michel to -understand the strange and bewildering dream in which he seemed to be -moving. But it is certain that he saw Mila only through a cloud of gold -and fire, which emanated from Agatha and was projected upon her young -friend as if by magic. - - - - -XLI - -JEALOUSY AND GRATITUDE - - -The princess led the marquis and Pier-Angelo aside to tell them that -Ninfo was in the Piccinino's hands, and that she had been so informed by -an eye-witness of his capture whom she was not at liberty to name. - -More ices were brought, and the conversation was renewed. Despite -Magnani's perturbation and timidity, despite Michel's excitement and -preoccupation, the princess and the marquis speedily tranquillized the -two young men, thanks to the judicious courtesy and the great art of -being simple, which well-bred people possess when the foundation of -their character corresponds with the external charm due to exquisite -tact. Thus Agatha questioned Michel concerning subjects with which he -was familiar, and on which he felt deeply. The young artist was -overjoyed by her perfect comprehension of art, and he stored away in his -memory several far-reaching definitions which she let fall, her mode of -expressing herself was so simple and natural. When she spoke to him she -seemed to be consulting rather than instructing him, and her glance, -alight with penetrating sympathy, seemed to seek in Michel's eyes -confirmation of her own opinions and ideas. - -Magnani understood all that was said, and, although he seldom ventured -to speak, it was easy to read on his intelligent face that none of the -ideas advanced were beyond the reach of his intellect. That young man -had unusual faculties which would never have been cultivated, perhaps, -but for his romantic passion. From the day that he first became enamored -of the princess he had constantly devoted a portion of his leisure to -reading and to the study of such works of art as he had been privileged -to see. He had employed his vacations--what mechanics call the _dead -season_--in travelling about Sicily on foot, viewing the treasures of -antiquity with which that island, so beautiful in itself, is thickly -strewn. While saying to himself that he was determined to remain humble -and obscure, and persuading himself that he had no desire to depart from -the rough simplicity of his class, he had been impelled by an -irresistible instinct to improve his mind. - -The conversation having become general, was pleasant, unconstrained, and -even merry, thanks to Pier-Angelo's sallies and Mila's artless remarks. -But her artlessness was so touching that, far from wounding Michel's -self-esteem in the princess's presence, it displayed his young sister's -fifteen years to him in a new light. It is certain that he had paid too -little heed to the very great change which a year had caused in the -ideas of a girl of her age, when, thinking that he still had to do with -a heedless and timid child, he had undertaken to blast all the hopes of -her heart with a word. In every word that Mila said she manifested -immense progress in respect to intelligence and decision of character, -and the contrast between that development of her mind, and the -inexperience, innocence and simplicity of her heart, presented a -spectacle at once charming and affecting. The princess, with the -delicate tact which women alone possess, caused Mila's charm to stand -out in bolder relief by her replies, and neither Michel, nor Magnani, -nor Pier-Angelo himself, had ever before imagined how much enjoyment -might be derived from talking with that maiden. - -The moon rose, silvery white, in the cloudless sky. Agatha suggested a -walk in the garden. They started together; but the princess soon -strolled away from the others with Magnani, whose arm she took -familiarly; and for half an hour they remained so far away from their -friends that they were often out of sight. - -We will not divulge at this point what the princess had to say in -confidence to the young mechanic during that tête-à-tête, which -seemed to Michel so long and so extraordinary; indeed, we shall not -divulge it at all. The reader will divine it at the proper time. - -But Michel was unable to form the faintest idea of it, and he was on the -rack. He ceased to listen to the marquis; he was much more inclined to -tease and contradict Mila. He laughed at her costume and picked flaws in -it under his breath, and almost made her cry; so that she finally -whispered to him: "Michel, you always were jealous, and you are jealous -at this moment." - -"Jealous of what, pray?" he retorted bitterly; "of your pink dress and -your pearl necklace?" - -"No," she said, "but of the princess's friendship for your friend and -her confidence in him. Oh! I remember how you used to sulk when we were -children, if mamma kissed me more than you." - -When the princess and Magnani joined them again, Agatha seemed calm and -Magnani deeply moved. But his noble face was even graver than usual, and -Michel noticed that his manner had undergone a remarkable change. He no -longer seemed to be at all confused by Agatha's presence. When she spoke -to him, the reply no longer trembled on his lips; he no longer turned -his eyes away in dismay, and, instead of the terrible suffering he had -previously displayed, he was calm, attentive and thoughtful. They talked -a few moments longer, then the princess turned to go. The marquis -offered his carriage. She declined it. "I prefer to walk back through -the gardens as I came," she said; "and, as I must have an escort, -although we no longer have any enemies to fear, I will take -Michelangelo's arm--unless he refuses!"--she added, with a quiet smile, -observing the young man's confusion. - -Michel could find no words for a reply; he bowed and offered her his -arm. An hour earlier he would have been beside himself with joy. Now it -wounded his pride to receive in public a favor which Magnani had -received privately and as it were in secret. - -Pier-Angelo took his leave with his daughter, to whom Magnani did not -offer his arm. So much ceremonious courtesy was not in his line. He -affected to be ignorant of the rules of politeness because he detested -imitation, but in reality his manners were always gentle and amiable. -After a few steps he found himself so near Mila that he naturally took -her round elbow in his hand to guide her through the narrow lanes of the -suburb, and walked with her, supporting her thus, to her door. - -Michel had started off encased in his pride as in a cuirass, mentally -accusing the princess of caprice and coquetry, and firmly resolved not -to allow himself to be dazzled by her advances. And yet he confessed to -himself that he was entirely unable to understand the irritation that he -felt. He was forced to say to himself that she was immeasurably kind, -and that if she was, in fact, indebted to old Pier-Angelo, she paid her -debt with all the treasures of delicacy and refinement which a woman's -heart can contain. - -But Michel could not forget all the problems which he had been trying -for two days to solve; and the way in which the princess pressed his arm -at that moment, as they walked, like a woman passionately in love or a -nervous person unaccustomed to walking, was a fresh problem which the -idea of a service rendered the signora by his father did not -sufficiently explain. - -He strode forward at first in silence, saying to himself that he would -not speak first, that he would not give way to emotion, that he would -not forget that Magnani's arm had probably been pressed in the same way; -in a word, that he would be on his guard: for either Princess Agatha was -mad, or she concealed the most insane coquetry beneath a virtuous and -downcast exterior. - -But all his fine plans came to naught. The shady paths that they trod, -with plots of land carefully tilled and planted on each side, led -through a succession of small gardens belonging to well-to-do mechanics -or middle-class citizens of the town. The paths were separated from the -plots only by shrubs, rose-bushes, or beds of aromatic herbs. Here and -there vine-clad arbors cast a dense shadow about them. The moon's rays -were oblique and uncertain. Innumerable perfumes arose from the -flower-strewn fields, and the sea, behind the hills in the distance, -murmured in amorous tones. Nightingales sang among the jasmines. Some -human voices sang in the distance, gayly challenging the echo; but there -was no one on the path which Michel and Agatha were following. The -little gardens were deserted. Michel felt oppressed; his pace slackened, -his arm trembled convulsively. A faint breeze blew the princess's veil -near his face, and he fancied that he heard mysterious voices whispering -in his ear. He dared not turn to see whether it was a woman's breath or -the breath of night that caressed him so near at hand. - -"My dear Michel," said the princess, in a calm tone, which brought him -abruptly from the sky to the earth, "I ask your pardon, but I really -must stop to take breath. I am not much accustomed to walking, and I -feel very tired. Here is a bench under this arbor which invites me to -sit down for five minutes, and I fancy that the owners of this little -garden, if they should see me, would not accuse me of committing a crime -if I take advantage of it." - -Michel led her to the bench to which she pointed, and, restored to -reason once more, walked a few steps away to look at a little fountain -whose soft gurgling failed to divert him from his reverie. - -"Yes, yes, it was a dream, or else it was my little sister Mila who gave -me that kiss. She is a mocking madcap! she would have explained the -great mystery of the locket to me if I had questioned her frankly and -earnestly. Doubtless there is some perfectly natural cause for all this -which does not occur to me. Isn't it always so with natural causes? The -only one that one does not divine is always the simplest. Ah! if Mila -knew what danger she is playing with, and what pain she might spare me -by telling me the truth! I will press her so to-morrow that she will -tell me everything!" - -While Michel reflected thus, the crystal water murmured in its narrow -basin, wherein quivered the spectre of the moon. The fountain was a -small terra-cotta affair, of classic simplicity; an aquatic cupid -grasping a huge carp from whose mouth the stream of water fell about a -foot into the reservoir. The artist who had executed the figure had -attempted to give it a mischievous expression, but he had succeeded only -in imparting to the carp's great eyes a glare of grotesque ferocity. -Michel looked at the group without seeing it, and to no purpose was the -night soft and fragrant; he, passionate lover of nature that he was, -absorbed by his own thoughts, denied to nature his accustomed homage on -that evening. - -And yet the murmur of the water acted upon his imagination without his -realizing it. He remembered a similar melodious sound, the timid and -melancholy murmur with which the marble Naiad filled the grotto of the -Palmarosa palace as she emptied her urn into the basin; the blissful -sensations of his dream passed before his mind once more, and he would -fain have fallen asleep where he stood, hoping for a repetition of his -hallucination. - -"But what am I thinking of!" he suddenly said to himself; "am I not a -most absurd novice? Did she not stop here in order to invite me to -prolong an ardent tête-à-tête? I took that sudden fatigue, that fancy -to sit in the first garden that we came to, for an honest explanation of -the confusion she felt--was it not intended as an encouragement to my -uncouth timidity?" - -He eagerly approached the princess, feeling emboldened by the shadow of -the arbor. The bench was so small that, unless he asked her to make room -for him, he could not sit beside her. He sat down on the grass, not -precisely at her feet, but near enough to be nearer still ere long. - -"Well, Michel," she said to him, with an indescribable sweetness in her -voice, "are you also tired, pray?" - -"I am worn out," he replied, in a tone of deep emotion which made the -princess start. - -"What do you mean? you are not ill, my child?" she said, putting out her -hand, which came in contact with the young man's silky hair in the -darkness. - -With one bound he was at her knees, his head bent, as it were fascinated -beneath that hand which did not repel him, his lips pressed to the hem -of that floating silk dress which could not betray his transports; -uncertain, beside himself, lacking courage to declare his passion, -lacking strength to resist it. - -"Michel," cried the princess, letting her hand fall again upon the young -madman's burning brow, "you are feverish, my child! your head is -burning! Yes, yes," she added, stroking his cheeks with affectionate -solicitude, "you have had too much fatigue these last few days; you have -been awake two nights in succession, and although you threw yourself on -your bed for a few hours this morning, I doubt if you slept much. And I -have led you on to talk too much to-night. You must go home. Let us walk -on; you can leave me at the gate of my park and go home at once. I -intended to say something to you to-night; but I am afraid that you are -going to be sick; when you are thoroughly rested, perhaps I will speak -to you." - -She attempted to rise; but Michel was kneeling on the edge of her dress. -He held against his cheeks, he put to his lips that lovely hand which -did not seek to avoid his caresses. - -"No, no," cried Michel, impetuously, "let me die here. I know very well -that you will drive me from your presence forever to-morrow; I know that -I shall never see you again, now that you see what is taking place -within me. But it is too late, and I am going mad! Oh! do not pretend to -believe that I am ill because I have worked by day and been awake all -night! Do not be afraid to discover the truth; it is your own fault, -signora, you would have it so! Could I resist so many temptations? Spurn -me, Agatha, curse me; but to-morrow, to-night, give me the kiss I -dreamed of in the Naiad's grotto!" - -"Ah! Michel," cried the princess, in a tone impossible to describe, "did -you feel it? did you see me? do you know all? Did somebody tell you, or -did you divine it? It is God's will. And you fear that I will spurn you? -you fear that I will curse you? O my God! is it possible? Pray, does not -what is taking place in your heart reveal to you the love with which -mine is overflowing?" - -As she spoke the lovely Agatha threw her arms around Michel's neck, and, -drawing his head to her breast, covered it with ineffable kisses. - -Michel was eighteen years old, he had a fiery heart, a restless, -all-devouring temperament, vast pride, and an enterprising spirit. But -his heart was as pure as his age, and his happiness found him chaste and -prostrate in religious adoration. All his jealousy, all his insulting -suspicions vanished. It no longer occurred to him to wonder how a person -so austere in her morals, who was supposed never to have had a lover, -could suddenly fall in love at first sight with a child like him, and -tell him so with such absolute candor. He was conscious of nothing save -the joy of being loved, an enthusiastic and unbounded gratitude, a -fervent, blind adoration. From Agatha's arms he fell at her feet, and -covered them with passionate, almost pious kisses. - -"No, no, not at my feet, on my heart!" cried the princess; and she held -him there a long while in a fervent embrace, weeping freely. - -Her tears were so sincere--they had such a sacred eloquence of their -own--that Michel felt a great wave of sympathy. His heart swelled and he -burst into sobs; a divine joy banished all thought of earthly joy. He -found that that woman aroused in him no profane desire; that he was -happy and not excited in her arms; that to mingle his tears with hers, -and to feel that he was loved by her, was happiness greater than all the -transports of which his youth had dreamed; in a word, that he respected -her even to dread, as he held her pressed against his heart, and that -there never could be a thought between her and him which the angels -might not read with a smile on their lips. - -He felt all this, confusedly without doubt, but so deeply, and with such -a thrill of triumph, that Agatha never suspected the evil impulse of -fatuous conceit which had brought him to her feet a few moments before. - -Thereupon Agatha, raising her lovely glistening eyes to heaven, her face -pale in the moonlight, and as it were rapt in a divine ecstasy, cried, -in a transport of joy: "O my God! how I thank Thee! This is the first -moment of happiness that Thou hast given me; but I do not complain of -having had to wait so long, for it is so great, so pure, so complete, -that it effaces and redeems all the sorrows of my life!" - -She was so lovely, she spoke with such sincere enthusiasm, that Michel -fancied that he had before him a saint of ancient days. "O my God! my -God!" he exclaimed in a voice stifled by emotion, "I, too, bless Thee! -What have I done to deserve such happiness? To be loved by her! Oh! it -is a dream; I dread to wake!" - -"No, it is not a dream, Michel," rejoined the princess, turning her -inspired glance upon him once more; "it is the only reality of my life, -and it will be the one great reality of your whole life. Tell me, what -other being than you I could love on this earth? Hitherto I have done -nothing but suffer and languish; but now that you are here, it seems to -me that I was born for the greatest human felicity. My child, my -beloved, my sovereign consolation, my only love! Oh! I cannot speak any -more, I do not know what to say to you; joy overwhelms and crushes me!" - -"No, no, let us not talk," cried Michel. "No words can describe what I -feel; and, thank heaven, I do not yet grasp the whole extent of my -happiness; for, if I did, it seems to me that I should die of it!" - - - - -XLII - -AN EMBARRASSING CONJUNCTURE - - -The sound of footsteps not far away aroused them both from their -delirious excitement. The princess rose, somewhat alarmed by the -approach of strangers, and, seizing Michel's arm, hurried on toward her -villa with him. She walked more rapidly than before, carefully veiled, -but leaning upon him with a sacred joy. And he, with wildly-beating -heart, bewildered with happiness, but penetrated with the most profound -respect, hardly dared to raise to his lips from time to time the hand -that he held in his. - -Not until he saw the gate of the princess's garden before him did he -recover the power of speech. - -"What! leave you already?" he said anxiously; "part so soon? It is -impossible! I shall die of excitement and despair." - -"We must part here," said the princess. "The time has not come when we -shall not part at all. But that happy day will come soon. Have no fear; -leave everything to me. Rely upon me and my boundless love to see to it -that we are united forever." - -"Is it possible? Do these words that I hear really come from your mouth? -That day will come, you say? We shall be united? we shall never part? -Oh! do not trifle with my simplicity! I dare not believe in such -happiness; and yet, when it is you who say it, I cannot doubt!" - -"Doubt the permanence of the stars that shine above us, doubt your own -existence rather than the power of my heart to overcome the obstacles -which seem to you so immense, but which now seem to me so trifling! Ah! -on the day when I shall no longer have aught except the world to fear, I -shall be very strong, I promise you!" - -"The world?" said Michel. "Ah! yes, I remember; I had forgotten -everything except you and myself. The world will deny you, the world -will be offended with you, all because of me! O God, forgive the -impulses of my pride! I abhor them now. Oh! let my happiness be shrouded -in mystery, and let no one know of it! I insist that it shall be so; I -will never suffer you to ruin yourself for love of me." - -"Noble-hearted child!" cried the princess, "let your mind be at rest; we -will triumph together; but I thank you for this generous impulse of your -heart. Ah! yes, all your impulses are generous, I know. I am not happy -simply, I am proud of you!" - -And she took the young man's head in both hands and kissed him again. - -But Michel thought that he heard footsteps a short distance away, and -the fear of compromising that courageous woman triumphed over his -happiness. - -"We may be watched or surprised," he said to her; "I am sure that -someone is coming this way. Fly! I will stay hidden in the bushes here -until these people, whether spies or mere passers-by, are out of -hearing. But we shall meet to-morrow, shall we not?" - -"Oh! surely," she replied. "Come here in the morning, as if to work, and -go up to my Casino." - -She pressed him to her heart once more, then entered the park and -disappeared among the trees. - -The noise he had heard had ceased, as if the persons who were -approaching had gone in another direction. - -Michel stood for a long time, motionless as a statue, and as it were -bereft of reason. After so many fascinating illusions, after such mighty -efforts not to believe in them, he was falling back once more under the -empire of dreams--at least he feared so. He dared not believe that he -was awake; he was afraid to take a step--to move a muscle--lest he might -thereby dispel the illusion once more, as in the Naiad's grotto. He -could not decide to question reality. Even the probabilities frightened -him. How could Agatha love him? Why did she love him? He could find no -answers to those questions, whereupon he cast them aside as blasphemous. -"She loves me! she told me so!" he exclaimed mentally. "To doubt it -would be a crime. If I distrusted her word, I should be unworthy of her -love." - -And he plunged into an ocean of blissful reveries. He lifted up his -thoughts toward heaven, which had caused him to be born to so happy a -fate. He felt capable of the greatest deeds, since he was deemed worthy -of the greatest joys. Never had he believed so fervently in the divine -mercy, never had he felt so proud and so humble, so devout and so brave. - -"O my God!" he said in his heart, "forgive me; until this day I believed -myself to be a creature of some importance. I was proud, I abandoned -myself to self-love; and yet I was not loved. Not until to-day have I -really lived. I have received life, I have received a heart, I am a man! -But I shall never forget that of myself I am nothing, and that the -enthusiasm which possesses me, the strength which overflows within me, -the virtue of which I realize the full worth to-day, were born under -that woman's breath, and live in me only through her. O day of boundless -bliss! O sovereign tranquillity, ambition satisfied without selfishness -and without remorse! O blessed victory which leaves the heart modest and -overflowing with generous sentiments! Love is all this and more. How -kind Thou art, O God, not to have allowed me to divine it beforehand, -and how vastly this surprise enhances the ecstasy of a heart just coming -forth from its utter insignificance!" - -He was about to walk slowly away when he saw a dark figure glide along -the wall and disappear among the branches. He drew back still farther -into the shadow to watch, and soon he recognized the Piccinino, as he -removed his cloak and tossed it over the wall, so that he might scale it -more readily. - -All Michel's blood flowed back toward his heart. Was Carmelo expected? -Had the princess authorized him to come and confer with her, at any hour -of the night, and to introduce himself into her villa by any means he -might choose? It is true that there were important secrets between them, -and that, it being more natural, as he said, for him to travel as the -crow flies, scaling a wall by night was a natural method of procedure -for him. He had warned Agatha that he might ring the bell at the gate of -her flower-garden when she least expected him. But was it not unwise on -her part to give him permission? Who could be sure of the intentions of -such a man as the Piccinino? Agatha was alone; would she be imprudent -enough to admit him and listen to him? If she carried her confidence to -that point, Michel could not make up his mind to share it. Did she -realize that that man was in love with her, or that he pretended to be? -What had they said to each other in the flower-garden, while Michel and -the marquis looked on but could not hear? - -Michel fell headlong from the sky to the earth. A violent paroxysm of -jealousy took possession of him, and, to delude himself, he tried to -make up his mind that he feared nothing but the danger of insult for the -lady of his thoughts. Was it not his duty to watch over her safety and -to protect her against the whole world? - -He noiselessly opened the gate, the key of which he had retained as well -as that of the flower-garden, and glided into the park, resolved to -watch the enemy. But, after the Piccinino had agilely scaled the wall, -he could find no trace of him. - -He walked toward the cliff, and, being perfectly certain that there was -nobody in front of him, he decided to ascend the staircase cut in the -lava, turning every moment to see if the Piccinino were following him. -His heart beat very fast, for a conflict with him upon that staircase -would have been decisive. On seeing him there, the brigand would have -realized that he had been deceived, that Michel was Agatha's lover--and -to what extremities would his rage not have impelled him? Michel did not -fear a bloody struggle on his own account; but how could he prevent -Carmelo from wreaking vengeance upon Agatha, if he should come forth -alive from that struggle? - -Nevertheless, Michel kept on to the top, and, having made sure that he -was not followed, entered the flower-garden, locked the gate, and -approached Agatha's boudoir. The room was lighted, but empty. A moment -later a maid came and extinguished the candles, then went away. All was -silence and darkness. - -Michel had never been more intensely disturbed. His heart beat as if it -would burst, as the silence and uncertainty continued. What was taking -place in Agatha's apartments? Her bedroom was behind the boudoir; it -could be entered from the flower-garden through a short passage where a -lamp was still burning. Michel could see it by looking through the -key-hole of the carved door. Perhaps that door was not locked on the -inside. Michel tried it, and, meeting with no resistance, entered the -Casino. - -Where was he going and what did he intend to do? He had no very clear -idea himself. He said to himself that he was going to the assistance of -Agatha, whose security was threatened by the Piccinino. He did not -choose to admit that he was spurred on by the demon of jealousy. - -He fancied that he could hear voices in Agatha's bedroom. They were two -women's voices: they might be Agatha's and her maid's, or the second one -might be Carmelo's soft and almost feminine voice. - -Michel stood irresolute, trembling from head to foot. If he should go -back into the flower-garden, the door of the passage-way would doubtless -soon be locked by the maid; and in that case how was he to get in again -unless by breaking a pane of glass in the boudoir--an expedient suited -to the genius of the Piccinino, but naturally repugnant to Michel. - -It seemed to him that centuries had passed since he saw the bandit climb -the wall; but it was less than a quarter of an hour. However, one can -live years in a minute, and he said to himself that the Piccinino had -evidently preceded him, as he was so slow about following him. - -Suddenly the door of Agatha's bedroom opened, and Michel had barely time -to step behind the pedestal of the statue which held the lamp. "Lock the -garden door," said Agatha to her maid, who came out of the bedroom, "but -leave this one open; it is horribly hot in my room." - -The girl returned after obeying her mistress's orders. Michel was -comforted, Agatha was alone with her maid. But he was locked in, and how -could he get out? or how could he explain his presence if he were -discovered hiding there at the princess's door? - -"I will tell the truth," he thought, not admitting to himself that it -was only half of the truth. "I will say that I saw the Piccinino climb -the park wall, and that I came to defend her whom I adore against a man -whom I do not trust." - -But he determined to wait until the maid had been dismissed, for he did -not know whether she possessed her mistress's entire confidence, and -whether she would not attribute a criminal meaning to that mark of their -intimacy. - -A few moments later, Agatha did dismiss her. There was a sound of -footsteps and of doors, as if the maid closed them all behind her as she -withdrew. Determined not to delay showing himself, Michel resolutely -entered Agatha's bedroom, but found himself alone there. The princess -had gone into her oratory before retiring, and Michel saw her kneeling -on a velvet cushion. She was dressed in a long, floating white robe. Her -black hair fell to her feet in two great braids, the weight of which -would have disturbed her sleep if she had kept them about her head at -night. The faint light of a lamp under a bluish globe cast a melancholy, -transparent reflection upon her, which made her resemble a ghost. Michel -paused, overcome with respect and dread. - -But, as he was hesitating whether he should interrupt her prayer, and -wondering how he could attract her attention without frightening her, he -heard the door of the little passageway open, and steps, so light that -none but a jealous lover's ear could distinguish them, approach Agatha's -bedroom. Michel had just time to jump behind the bedstead of carved -ebony, decorated with small ivory figures. It did not stand against the -wall, as our beds do, but some little distance away, as is customary in -hot countries, with its foot near the centre of the room. Between the -wall and the high headboard of that ancient piece of furniture there was -sufficient room for Michel to hide. He did not stoop for fear of moving -the white satin curtains. He had no time to take many precautions. -Chance favored him, for, despite the swift and inquisitive glance which -the Piccinino cast about the room, he saw no disorder, no movement to -betray the presence of a man who had arrived before him. - -Nevertheless, he was about to take the prudent course of making a -thorough search, when the princess, hearing his light footsteps, half -rose, saying: - -"Is that you, Nunziata?" - -Receiving no reply, she put aside the portière which half concealed the -interior of her bedroom, and saw the Piccinino standing in front of her. -She rose to her feet and stood motionless with surprise and terror. - -But, realizing that she must not betray her painful emotion in the -presence of a man of that character, she kept silent so that her altered -voice might reveal nothing, and walked toward him as if expecting him to -explain his audacious visit. - -The Piccinino knelt on one knee, and said, handing her a folded -parchment: - -"Signora, I knew that you must be extremely anxious concerning this -important document, and I did not wish to postpone its delivery until -to-morrow. I came here during the evening, but you were absent, and I -was obliged to wait until you had returned. Forgive me if my visit is -somewhat opposed to the proprieties of the society in which you live, -but your highness is aware that I am compelled to act on all occasions, -and especially in this matter, with the greatest secrecy." - -"Signor captain," replied Agatha, after opening and glancing at the -parchment, "I knew that my uncle's will had been stolen from Doctor -Recuperati this morning. The poor doctor came here this afternoon, quite -beside himself, to tell me of his misadventure. He could not imagine how -his wallet had been taken from his pocket, and he accused Abbé Ninfo. I -was not alarmed, because I felt sure that Abbé Ninfo would have to -account to you for his theft in the course of the day. So I comforted -the doctor, bidding him not mention the incident, and promising him that -the will would soon be recovered. You can well believe that I could give -him no hint as to how it would be done and by whom. Now, captain, it is -not proper for me to have in my hands a document which I should have the -appearance of having seized because I was distrustful of my uncle's -intentions or the doctor's good faith. I will ask you, therefore, when -the moment to produce it shall have come, to restore it by some means, -indirect but sure, to the depositary who previously had it in charge. -You are too ingenious not to discover such a means without betraying -yourself in any way." - -"You wish me to take charge of this again? can you think of such a -thing, signora?" said the Piccinino, who was still standing and waiting -impatiently an invitation to sit; but Agatha stood as she spoke to him, -as if she anticipated his speedy withdrawal, while he was determined to -prolong the interview at any price. He suggested difficulties. - -"It is impossible," he said; "the cardinal is in the habit of signifying -with his eyes that he wants his will to be shown to him, and he thinks -of it every day. To be sure," he added, to gain time, resting his hand -on the back of a chair as if he were very tired, "to be sure, the -cardinal, being deprived of his interpreter, Abbé Ninfo, it would be -easy for the doctor to pretend that he did not understand his eminence's -eloquent glances.--Especially," continued the brigand, moving his chair -a little and resting his elbow on it, "especially as the doctor's usual -stupidity would make his failure to understand very probable. But," he -added, respectfully offering the chair to the princess so that she might -set him the example of sitting down, "the cardinal's meaning may be -understood by some other trusty servitor, who would force the excellent -doctor to the wall by saying to him: 'You see, his eminence wants to -look at his will!'" - -And the Piccinino made a graceful gesture to indicate that it pained him -to see her standing before him. - -But Agatha did not choose to understand, nor was she willing to keep the -will, in order to avoid having to thank the Piccinino at such a moment -in terms which should offend him by too great reserve, or encourage him -by too great warmth. She was determined to maintain her proud attitude, -while overwhelming him with manifestations of a confidence without -bounds so far as her material interests were concerned. - -"No, captain," she said, still standing and in perfect control of -herself, "the cardinal will not ask again to see the will, for his -condition has grown much worse in twenty-four hours. It seems that that -wretched Ninfo kept him in a state of excitement which prolonged his -life; for, since he disappeared this morning, my uncle has been in a -sort of lethargic state, bordering closely, I doubt not, on the repose -of the grave. His eyes are dull; he no longer seems to pay any heed to -what is going on about him. He does not notice the absence of his -familiar, and the doctor is compelled to resort to all the expedients of -his profession to combat a drowsiness from which he fears that there -will be no awakening." - -"Doctor Recuperati has always lacked common sense," rejoined the -Piccinino, seating himself on the edge of a console, and letting his -cloak fall at his feet as if by inadvertence. "I ask your highness," he -added, folding his arms across his breast, "if the so-called laws of -humanity are not absurd and false in such cases, like almost all the -laws of human respect and hypocritical propriety? What benefit do we -confer on a dying man when we try to recall him to life, with the -certainty that we shall not succeed, and that we are simply prolonging -his torture in the world? If I were in Doctor Recuperati's place, I -would say to myself that his eminence has lived quite long enough. It is -the opinion of all respectable people, and of your highness yourself, -that that man has lived too long. It is high time to allow him to repose -from the fatiguing journey of this life, since he seems to desire it, so -far as he himself is concerned, and to arrange his head comfortably on -his pillow for his last sleep. I ask your highness's pardon for leaning -on this console; my legs are giving way under me, I have run about so -much to-day in your interest; and if I do not rest for a moment, it will -be impossible for me to return to Nicolosi to-night." - -Agatha made a gesture which invited the brigand to occupy the chair that -stood between them; but she remained standing herself, to signify that -she did not propose that he should abuse the privilege. - - - - -XLIII - -A CRISIS - - -"It seems to me," said the princess, as she placed the will on the -console at the Piccinino's elbow, "that we are digressing a little from -the real question. I will remind your lordship of the facts. My uncle -has a few moments to live, and he will not think of his will again. Thus -the day when the document must be produced is near at hand. Now, I am -very desirous that when that day comes it shall be in the doctor's hands -and not in mine." - -"That is a very noble scruple on your part," rejoined the Piccinino, in -a firm tone which concealed his irritation; "but I have the same scruple -on my own account, and, as everything strange and mysterious that -happens on this island is attributed to the fabulous Captain Piccinino, -I do not wish to have any hand in this restitution. Your ladyship will -be kind enough, therefore, to arrange it in whatever way you may deem -best. It was not I who stole the will. I found it on the thief. I bring -it back; and I consider that I have done enough not to deserve the -charge of lukewarmness in your service. Doubtless Abbé Ninfo's -disappearance will soon be noticed, and the name of the Piccinino will -occur at once to the popular imagination as well as to the crafty brains -of the police authorities. Result, fresh investigations on the heels of -those of which my humble personality is already the object, and which I -have escaped thus far only by a miracle. I have accepted the risks of -this affair; I have the _monster_ in my power. Your highness's mind is -at rest concerning the safety of your friends and your own freedom of -action. You are in possession of the document that entitles you to great -wealth. Do you wish my life? I am ready to lay it down for you a hundred -times; but bid me to do it, and do not drive me to my destruction by -subterfuges, without giving me the consolation of knowing that I die for -you." - -The Piccinino uttered these last words in a tone that made it impossible -for Agatha longer to avoid entering upon a delicate subject. - -"Captain," she said, forcing herself to smile, "you judge me ill if you -think that I wish to rid myself of my burden of gratitude to you. My -disinclination to take this paper, which represents to me the title to -great wealth, should prove my confidence in you and my purpose to allow -you to dispose absolutely of everything that belongs to me." - -"I do not understand, signora," replied the bandit, moving restlessly on -his chair. "Did you think that I came to your assistance merely to do a -profitable stroke of business, and for no other purpose?" - -"Captain," replied Agatha, outwardly unmoved by the Piccinino's real or -pretended indignation, "you style yourself, and justly, the _justicier -d'aventure_. That is to say, you do justice according to your heart and -your conscience, without regard to formal laws, which are very often -contrary to those of natural and divine justice. You assist the weak, -you rescue victims, you protect those whose feelings and opinions seem -to you to deserve your esteem against those whom you regard as the -enemies of your country and of mankind. You punish cowards and you -prevent the execution of their base designs. All this is a mission which -legally constituted society does not always understand, but of which I -appreciate the real merit and heroism. Need I say more to convince you -of my esteem for you, and do you think that I have failed to manifest -it? But since society denies the propriety of your intervention, and -since, in order to continue it, you are forced to provide yourself with -abundant resources, it would be insane--it would be impertinent--to seek -your protection without offering you the means of putting it forth and -of extending its scope. I thought of that--I could not fail to think of -it; and I determined not to deal with you as with an ordinary advocate, -but to allow you to fix yourself the price of your loyal and generous -services. I should have considered that I insulted you by putting a -price upon them. In my eyes they are beyond price. That is why, while I -invite you to draw at your discretion upon a princely fortune, I am -still forced to rely upon your modesty and generosity to consider that I -have paid my debt to you." - -"These are very flattering words, and your highness's soft speech would -fascinate me, if my ideas were such as you attribute to me. But if you -will deign to be seated a moment and listen to me, I shall be able to -explain my ideas without fear of abusing the patience with which you -honor me." - -"On my word!" thought Agatha, as she took a seat at some distance from -the Piccinino, "this man's persistence is like destiny, inevitable." - -"I shall soon have finished," continued the Piccinino, with a crafty -smile, when he saw that she was seated at last. "I look after my own -interests while looking after other people's, that is true; but every -man understands the advantages of life as circumstances impel him to do. -Some people want nothing but gold. Those are vulgar instances,--the -market price, as they say, I believe. But with certain others, who are -more wealthy in charms and in noble qualities than in ducats, the -intelligent man aspires to a less vulgar recompense. The material wealth -of a person like Princess Agatha is a mere trifle compared with the -treasures of generosity and delicacy which her heart contains. And if -the man of action, who has devoted himself to her service, has done so -with a certain degree of promptitude and zeal, is he not at liberty to -aspire to some nobler gratification than that of putting his hand in her -purse? Ah! yes, there are moral joys far more exalted, and the offer of -your fortune as a substitute for them is so far from satisfying me, that -it wounds my heart and my mind like an insult." - -Agatha began to be really terrified, for the Piccinino had risen and -drawn nearer to her. She dared not change her position, she feared that -she should tremble and turn pale; and yet, brave as she was, that young -man's face and voice caused her a frightful shock. His dress, his -features, his manners, his voice awoke a whole world of memories within -her, and, strive as she would to raise him to a level where she could -esteem him and be truly grateful to him, an unconquerable aversion -closed her heart to such sentiments. She had so long refused Fra -Angelo's suggestions that this man's assistance should be procured, that -she would assuredly have persisted in not having recourse to him, had it -not been certain that Abbé Ninfo had tried to hire him to procure the -assassination or abduction of Michel, pointing to the will as a means of -rewarding his services. - -But it was too late. The noble-hearted and ingenuous Capuchin of Bel -Passo had not foreseen that his former ward, whom he had accustomed -himself to look upon as a child, might fall in love with a woman several -years older than himself. And yet what was more natural? The persons for -whom one has much respect have no age. To Fra Angelo the Princess of -Palmarosa, Saint Agatha of Catania, and the Madonna, had no sex even. If -anyone had interrupted his sleep to tell him that at that moment Agatha -was in imminent danger from his ward, he would have exclaimed: "Ah! the -wretched boy must have seen her diamonds!" And, as he started to go to -the princess's assistance, he would have said to himself that she had -but a word to say to keep the brigand at a distance; but Agatha felt an -invincible repugnance to say that word, and she still hoped that she -would not be forced to that expedient. - -"I understand very well, signor captain," she said with increasing -coldness, "that you ask for no other reward but my esteem; but I repeat -that I have proved it to you on this very occasion, and I think that -your pride should be satisfied." - -"Yes, signora, my pride; but it is not a question of my pride alone. Nor -are you sufficiently well acquainted with it to measure its extent and -to know whether it is not superior to any pecuniary sacrifice that you -could make in my favor. I do not want your will, I want no part of your -fortune, now or ever, do you understand?" - -And he knelt at her feet and took her hand with savage vehemence. - -Agatha rose, and yielding to an indignant, perhaps injudicious impulse, -she took the will from the console. - -"Since that is so," she said, trying to tear it, "it is as well that -this fortune should be neither mine nor yours, for the recovery of this -paper is the least important service you have rendered me, captain; and -had it not been connected with another of much greater importance, I -should never have asked you to do it. Let me destroy this will, and then -you can ask me for a legitimate share of my affection, without my -blushing to listen to you." - -But the parchment resisted the efforts of her weak hands, and the -Piccinino had time to take it from her and place it under a large piece -of Roman mosaic, which lay on the console, and which she would have had -even more difficulty in lifting. - -"Let us put this aside," he said, with a smile, "and think no more about -it. Let us suppose even that it never existed; we are well aware that it -cannot be a bond between us, and that you owe me nothing in exchange for -your fortune. I know that you are already rich enough to do without -these millions; I know too that, if you were penniless, you would not -give your friendship as the reward of a mere pecuniary service which you -expected to pay for with money. I admire your pride, signora; I -appreciate it, and I am proud to appreciate it. Ah! now that we have put -that prosaic thought out of our hearts, I feel much happier, for I hope! -I feel much bolder, too, for the friendship of such a woman as you seems -to me so desirable that I would risk everything to obtain it." - -"Do not speak of friendship," said Agatha, pushing him away, for he was -beginning to handle her long tresses and to wind them about his arm as -if to chain himself to her; "speak of the gratitude I owe you; it is -very great, I shall never deny it, and I will prove it to you when -occasion offers, against your will if I must. The service you have -rendered me entitles you to services from me, and some day we shall be -quits! But friendship implies mutual sympathy, and, in order to obtain -mine, you must earn it and deserve it." - -"What must I do?" cried the Piccinino, vehemently. "Speak! oh! I implore -you, tell me what I must do to win your love!" - -"Respect me in the depths of your heart," she replied, "and do not -approach me with those bold eyes and that self-satisfied smile, which -are an insult to me." - -Seeing her cold and lofty bearing, the Piccinino was angry; but he knew -that anger is an unwise counsellor. He desired to please her, and he -controlled his temper. - -"You do not understand me," he said, leading her back to her chair and -sitting down beside her. "Oh! no, you fail utterly to understand a heart -like mine! You are too much the woman of the world, too politic, and I -am too ingenuous, too rough, too uncivilized! You are afraid of wild -outbreaks on my part, because you see that I love you madly; but you are -not afraid of causing me pain, because you have no conception of the -pain your indifference may cause me. You think that a mountaineer of -Ætna, a brigand and adventurer, can know only sensual transports; and -when I ask you for your heart, you think that you have to defend your -person. If I were a duke or marquis, you would listen to me without -alarm, you would console me for my grief; and, pointing out to me that -your love was out of the question, you would offer me your friendship. -And I should be gentle, patient, prostrate at your feet in melancholy -and affectionate gratitude. It is because I am of the common people, a -peasant, that you deny me even your sympathy! Your pride takes fright -because you think that I demand something as a right acquired by my -services, and you continue to throw my services at my head as if I -relied upon them as entitling me to a recompense from you, as if I -remembered them when I am looking at you and talking with you! Alas! I -do not know how to express myself; I simply say what I think, without -torturing my mind to find a way to convince you of it without saying it. -I know nothing of the art of your flatterers; I am no more a courtier of -beauty than of power, and the curse that rests upon my life makes it -impossible for me to play the attendant cavalier like the Marquis della -Serra. I have but an hour at night to come, at the risk of my life, to -tell you that I am your slave, and you answer that you do not choose to -be my sovereign, but my debtor, my customer, who will pay me handsomely! -Fie, fie, signora! you place an ice-cold hand upon a burning heart!" - -"If you have in your mind nothing more than friendship," said Agatha, -"if you really aspire to be one of my friends simply, I will promise you -that that may come about----" - -"Let me speak!" rejoined the Piccinino, with renewed animation, his face -lighting up with the beauty which was his when he was really moved. "At -first I dared not ask you for anything more than your friendship, and it -was your childish fright that forced the word love from my lips. Very -good! what more can a man say to a woman to restore her courage? I love -you, therefore you should not tremble when I take your hand. I respect -you, as you see, for we are alone, and I am in perfect control of my -passions; but I cannot control my thoughts and the outbursts of my love. -I have not my whole life in which to prove it to you. I have but this -instant in which to tell you of it, so listen. If I could pass six hours -of every day at your feet, like the marquis, I might perhaps be -satisfied with the feeling that you have for him; but, as I have only -this hour which is passing before me like a vision, I must have your -love, or else a despair which I dare not imagine. So let me speak of -love; listen to me and do not be afraid. If you say no, it shall be no, -but if you would listen to me without thinking of protecting yourself, -if you would deign to understand me once for all, if you would forget -the world you live in, and the pride which is out of place here, and -which has no existence in the sphere in which I live, you would be -touched because you would be convinced. Oh! yes. If you were a simple -soul, and if you did not put prejudices in the place of the pure -inspirations of nature and of truth, you would feel that there is one -heart more youthful and more ardent than all those you have spurned, the -heart of a lion or tiger with men, but a man's heart with women, a -child's heart with you! You would pity me at least. You would see my -life as it is: constantly tormented and threatened, a never-ending -nightmare! And solitude! Ah! it is solitude of the heart above all else -which is killing me, because my heart is even harder to please than my -senses. You know how I bore myself with Mila this morning, do you not? -She is beautiful, surely, and neither in character nor in mind is she -one of the common herd. If I had chosen to love her, and if I had felt -for a single moment that I did love her, she would have loved me, she -would have been mine all her life. But with her I thought only of you. -You are the one whom I love, and you are the only woman I have ever -loved, although I have been the lover of many women! Love me then, -though it be but for a moment, just long enough to tell me so, or else, -when I return to-night by a certain spot called the _Destatore's_ Cross, -I shall go mad! I shall dig into the earth with my nails, to insult and -cast to the winds the ashes of the man who gave me life." - -At these last words Agatha lost all her strength; she turned pale; a -shudder ran through her every limb, and she threw herself back in her -chair as if a blood-stained spectre had passed before her eyes. - -"Oh! hush, hush!" she cried; "you do not know the pain you cause me!" - -The Piccinino could not understand the cause of this sudden and intense -emotion; he misunderstood it utterly. He had spoken with a vehemence of -voice and expression which would have persuaded any other woman than the -princess. He had fascinated her with his gleaming eyes; he had -intoxicated her with his breath, at all events he thought so. He had -been so often justified in thinking so, even when he had not felt a -tithe of the desire this woman inspired in him! He believed that she was -vanquished, and, putting his arms about her, seeking her lips, he felt -sure that her passions, taken by surprise, would do the rest. But Agatha -eluded his caresses with unexpected vigor, and as she rushed toward a -bell-cord, Michel darted between her and the Piccinino, with blazing -eyes and with a dagger in his hand. - - - - -XLIV - -REVELATIONS - - -The Piccinino was so taken aback by this unexpected apparition that he -stood perfectly still, without a thought of attacking or of defending -himself. So that Michel, as he was about to strike him, held his hand, -bewildered by his own precipitation; but, with a movement so swift and -adroit that it was invisible, the Piccinino's hand was armed when Michel -withdrew his. - -But the brigand, after a single furious gleam had shot from his eyes, -recovered his cold and disdainful attitude. - -"Excellent," he said; "I understand everything now, and rather than -bring about so absurd a scene, Signora Palmarosa should have carried her -confidence so far as to say to me: 'Leave me, I cannot listen to you; I -have a lover hidden behind my bed.' I would have retired discreetly, -whereas now I must needs administer a lesson to Master Lavoratori, to -punish him for having seen me play an absurd rôle. So much the worse -for you, signora; the lesson will be a bloody one!" - - -[Illustration: _AGATHA PROTECTS MICHELANGELO._ - -_He leaped at Michel with the agility of a wild -animal. But, quick and nimble as his movement -was, the miraculous power of love made Agatha -even quicker than he._] - - -He leaped at Michel with the agility of a wild animal. But, quick and -nimble as his movement was, the miraculous power of love made Agatha -even quicker than he. She rushed to intercept the blow, and would have -received it in her breast had not the Piccinino thrust the dagger into -his sleeve so swiftly that it seemed as if his hand had always been -empty. - -"What are you doing, signora?" he said. "I do not propose to murder your -lover but to fight with him. You do not wish it? Very good! You protect -him with your breast! I will not insult such a rampart, but I will find -him at another time--mark my words!" - -"Stay!" cried Agatha, seizing his arm as he walked, toward the door. -"You will renounce this insane purpose of revenge and give your hand to -this alleged lover of mine. He will gladly do the same, for which of you -two desires to kill or curse his brother?" - -"My brother?" said Michel, in utter bewilderment, dropping his dagger. - -"He, my brother?" said the Piccinino, his weapon still within his grasp. -"This extemporized relationship is most improbable, signora. I have -always heard that Pier-Angelo's wife was very ugly, and I doubt if my -father ever played tricks upon husbands who had no reason to be jealous. -Your expedient is not at all ingenious! Farewell for the present, -Michelangelo Lavoratori!" - -"I tell you that he is your brother!" repeated the princess, earnestly; -"your father's son and not Pier-Angelo's; the son of a woman whom you -cannot insult by your contempt, and who could not have listened to you -without committing a crime and an act of madness. Do you not understand -me?" - -"No, signora," said the Piccinino, with a shrug; "I cannot understand -the fables that come to your mind at this moment to save your lover's -life. If this poor boy is my father's son, so much the worse for him; -for he has many other brothers beside myself, who do not amount to much, -and whom I do not hesitate to strike over the head with the butt of my -pistol when they fail in the obedience and respect they owe me. So, too, -this new member of my family--the youngest of all, I am inclined to -think--will be punished by my hand as he deserves; not in your presence, -for I am not fond of seeing women in convulsions. But this pretty -darling will not always be hidden in your bosom, signora, and I know -where I shall find him at need!" - -"Have done with insulting me," rejoined Agatha, in a firm tone; "you -cannot wound me, and, unless you are a coward, you should not speak thus -to your father's wife." - -"My father's wife!" exclaimed the bandit, beginning to listen and to -desire to hear. "My father was never married, signora! Do not make sport -of me." - -"Your father was married to me, Carmelo, and, if you doubt it, you will -find the authentic evidence in the archives of the convent of Mal Passo. -Go and ask Fra Angelo. This young man's name is not Lavoratori; his name -is Castro-Reale. He is the son--the only legitimate son--of Prince -Cæsar de Castro-Reale." - -"Then you are my mother?" cried Michel, falling on his knees and -embracing Agatha, with a sensation of terror, remorse and adoration all -in one. - -"You know it," she said, pressing his face against her heaving breast. -"Now, Carmelo, come and kill him in my arms; we will die together! But, -after seeking to commit incest, you will commit fratricide!" - -The Piccinino, torn by a thousand conflicting sensations, folded his -arms across his breast, and, leaning against the wall, gazed in silence -at his brother and stepmother, as if he were still inclined to doubt the -truth. Michel rose, walked toward him, and held out his hand. - -"Your ignorance was the cause of your crime," he said, "and I must needs -forgive you, for I too loved her not knowing that I was fortunate enough -to be her son. Oh! do not cast a shadow on my joy by your resentment! Be -my brother, as I long to be yours! In the name of God, who orders us to -love each other, put your hand in mine and come to my mother's feet, so -that she may forgive and bless us both." - -At these words, uttered with the effusive warmth of a noble and sincere -heart, the Piccinino came very near being moved. His bosom heaved as if -he were about to burst into tears; but pride was stronger than the voice -of nature, and he blushed at the emotion which had threatened to -overcome him. - -"Away from me," he said to Michel. "I do not know you; I have no -sympathy with all this mawkish family sentimentality. I loved my mother, -too, but all my affection died with her. I never had any feeling for my -father,--whom I hardly knew and who cared very little for me,--unless it -may be that I was a little vain of being the only acknowledged son of a -prince and a hero. I thought that my mother was the only woman he ever -loved, but I learn now that he deceived my mother; that he was another -woman's husband; and I cannot be overjoyed by that discovery. You are a -legitimate son, and I am only a bastard. I have been accustomed to -believe that I was the only one who was really entitled, if I chose, to -adorn myself with the name which you will bear in the world, and which -no one will dispute your right to bear. And you expect me to love you, -who are of patrician blood on both sides, by your father and by your -mother? you who are rich, and will soon be powerful in the land where I -am a wanderer and an outlaw? You who, whether you are a true or false -Sicilian, will be flattered and handled gently by the Court of Naples, -and who, perhaps, will not consider that you can afford to refuse favors -and offices forever? You who will, perhaps, command hostile armies and -lay waste the homes of your countrymen? You who, as general, minister or -magistrate, may order my head cut off and a sentence of degradation -nailed to the scaffold on which that head is fastened, to serve as an -example and a menace to our other brothers of the mountain? You expect -me to love you? On the contrary, I hate you and curse you! - -"And this woman," continued the Piccinino, with intense -bitterness,--"this false, cold-blooded woman, who fooled me to the end -with infernal cunning,--you expect me to prostrate myself before her, -and ask a blessing from her hand which, for aught I know, is stained -with my father's blood! for now I understand more than she intended, I -fancy. I will never believe that she married with a good grace the -ruined, outlawed, hounded brigand, depraved by misfortune, who had then -no other name than the _Destatore_! He must have abducted her and -outraged her.--Ah! yes, now I remember! There is a tale of that sort to -which Fra Angelo refers vaguely at times. A child, surprised by the -brigands when out walking with her governess, carried off with the -governess to the chief's lair, and dismissed two hours later, outraged -and half dead! Ah! father, you were a villain as well as a hero! I know -it; and I am a better man than you, for I detest such deeds of violence, -and Fra Angelo's tale has preserved me forever from seeking enjoyment by -such means. So it was you, Agatha, who were Castro-Reale's victim! I -understand now why you consented to marry him secretly at the convent of -Mal Passo; for that marriage is a secret--probably the only secret of -that sort that never transpired! You have been very adroit, but the rest -of your story is clear to me. I know now why your parents kept you -secluded for a year, so carefully that you were supposed to be dead or -to have turned nun. I know now why my father was murdered, and I would -not swear that you were innocent of his death!" - -"Wretch!" cried the princess, indignantly; "to dare to suspect me of the -murder of the man I had accepted for my husband!" - -"If it was not you, then it was your father or someone of your kindred!" -retorted the Piccinino, in French, with a bitter laugh. "My father did -not kill himself," he continued in the Sicilian language, and with a -wild expression. "He was capable of a crime, but not of a dastardly act, -and the pistol that was found in his hand at the _Destatore's_ cross -never belonged to him. He was not reduced, by the partial defection of -his followers, to the necessity of committing suicide in order to escape -from his enemies, and the piety which Fra Angelo tried to inspire in his -heart had not yet disturbed his mind to the point where he thought it -his duty to punish himself for his sins. He was murdered, and to have -been surprised so easily--so near the town--he must have been lured into -a trap. Abbé Ninfo had something to do with that bloody drama. I shall -find out, for I have him in my clutches; and, although I am not cruel, I -will torture him with my own hands until he confesses! For it is my -mission to avenge my father's death, as it is yours, Michel, to make -common cause with those who ordered it." - -"Great God!" said Agatha, paying no attention to the Piccinino's -accusations against herself, "it seems that each day must bring with it -the discovery of some new deed of rage and vengeance in my family! O -blood of the Atrides, may the Furies never rouse you to life in my son's -veins! Ah! Michel, what duties your birth imposes on you! By what great -virtues must you redeem so many crimes committed both before and since -your birth! Carmelo, you think that your brother will turn against his -country and against you some day! If it could be so, I would ask you to -kill him to-day, while he is pure and honorable; for I know too well, -alas! what becomes of the men who renounce love of country and the -respect due to the vanquished!" - -"Kill him at once?" said the Piccinino; "I am strongly tempted to take -that metaphor literally; it would take but a moment, for this Sicilian -of recent date knows no more about handling a knife than I about -handling a brush. But I didn't do it yesterday, when the thought came to -my mind by our father's grave, and I will wait until my present anger -has subsided; for one should kill only in cold blood and in accordance -with the dictates of logic and conscience.--Ah! Michel de Castro-Reale, -I did not know you yesterday, although Abbé Ninfo had already pointed -you out to my vengeance. I was jealous of you because I believed you to -be the lover of this woman who says to-day that she is your mother; but -I had a presentiment that she did not deserve the love which was -beginning to set my blood on fire for her, and when I saw how bravely -you faced me, I said to myself: 'Why kill a brave man for the sake of a -woman who may be a coward?'" - -"Hush, Carmelo!" cried Michel, picking up his dagger; "whether I know -how to handle a knife or not, if you add another word to your insults to -my mother, I will have your life or you shall have mine." - -"Hush, yourself, boy!" said the Piccinino, presenting his half-naked -breast to Michel with an air of contempt; "the virtue of legitimate -society makes men cowards, and you are a coward too, for you have been -reared on the ideas of that society; you would not dare to scratch my -lion's skin, because in my person you respect your brother. But I have -no such prejudices, and I will prove it to you some day when I am -calmer. To-day I am angry, I admit, and I will tell you why: it is -because I have been deceived, and I did not believe that any human being -was capable of playing on my credulity; it is because I put faith in -this woman's words when she said to me last night, in yonder -flower-garden where I can hear the fountains plashing at this moment, -under the eyes of the moon, which seemed less pure and tranquil than her -face: 'What can there be in common between that child and myself?' What -can there be in common? and you her son! and you knew it, and you -deceived me too!" - -"No, I did not know it, and as for my mother----" - -"You and your mother are two cold-blooded serpents, two venomous -Palmarosas! Ah! I hate that family which has persecuted me and my family -so cruelly, and some day I will make a bloody example, even of those -members of it who claim to be good patriots and nobles who sympathize -with the people. I hate all nobles for my part! and you whose mouths -blow hot and cold in turn may well tremble before my frank declaration! -I have hated the nobles for the last few moments, since I have found -that I am not noble, because I have a legitimate brother and am only a -bastard. I hate the name of Castro-Reale, since I can no longer bear it. -I am envious, revengeful, and ambitious as well! my intelligence and my -adroitness were a stronger justification of that claim on my part than -the art of painting on the part of the nursling of the Muses and of -Pier-Angelo! I should have made a greater name than he if our conditions -had remained unchanged. And the thing that makes my vanity more -endurable, Prince Michel, is that I proclaim it proudly, while you -conceal it shamefacedly, on the pretext of modesty. In short, I am the -child of uncivilized nature and of unshackled liberty, while you are the -slave of custom and of fear. I practise cunning after the manner of -wolves, and my cunning leads me to my goal. You play with falsehood, -after the manner of men, and you will always miss your goal, without -having had the merit of sincerity. Our lives are before us. If yours -annoys me overmuch, I shall rid myself of you as of any other obstacle, -do you understand? Woe to you if you irritate me! Farewell; do not try -to see me again; this is my brotherly greeting! - -"And as for you, Princess of Castro-Reale," he said, bowing ironically -to Agatha, "who might well have refrained from making me crawl at your -feet, whose share in the catastrophe by the _Destatore's_ Cross is now -very clear in my mind, who did not deem me worthy to be informed of the -mischance of your youth, but preferred to pose before my eyes as a -spotless virgin, caring not whether you caused me to pine away in -frenzied anticipation of your priceless favors--I wish that you may be -happy and forget what has taken place between us; but I shall remember -it, and I warn you, signora, that you gave a ball over a volcano, in -reality as well as figuratively." - -As he spoke, the Piccinino threw his cloak over his head and shoulders, -walked into the boudoir, and not deigning to wait for the door to be -opened, leaped through one of the large panes of glass into the -flower-garden. Then he returned to the door leading into the passage, -which he had not chosen to pass through, and, after the manner of the -authors of the Sicilian Vespers, cut with his dagger a cross over the -crest of the Palmarosas, which was carved on that door. A few moments -later he was on the mountain, flying like an arrow. - -"O mother!" cried Michel, passionately embracing the horrified Agatha, -"you have made an implacable enemy in order to preserve me from enemies -who, if not imaginary, are powerless! Dear, adored mother, I will never -leave you again, by day or night. I will sleep across your door, and if -your son's love is helpless to preserve you, it will be because -Providence abandons mankind altogether!" - -"My child," said Agatha, pressing him to her heart, "have no fear. I am -sorely distressed by all that that man has brought back to my mind, but -not alarmed by his unreasonable anger. The secret of your birth could -not safely have been revealed to him any sooner, for you see the effect -that revelation produced upon him. But the time has come when I have -nothing to fear, so far as you are concerned, save his personal -resentment, and that we will find a way to disarm. The vengeance of the -Palmarosas will die out with Cardinal Hieronimo's last breath, which it -may be that he is breathing at this very moment. If it was an error to -turn that vengeance aside by the help of Carmelo, that error is -chargeable to Fra Angelo, who thinks that he knows mankind because he -has always lived with men outside the pale of society, brigands and -monks. But I trust still to his marvellous instinct. This man, who has -just shown himself to us in such an evil light, and whom I cannot look -upon without the most intense suffering, because he reminds me of the -author of all my misfortunes, is not unworthy perhaps of the generous -impulse which led you to call him brother. He is a tiger in his wrath, a -fox in his reflections; but between his hours of rage and his hours of -treachery, there may be intervals of prostration when human feelings -resume their sway and extort from him tears of regret and longing; we -shall be able to reform him, I trust! Kindness and loyal dealing should -find the weak spot in his armor. At the moment that he cursed you, I saw -that he hesitated, forced back his tears. His father--your father, -Michel!--had a profound and intense susceptibility even amid his wild -and wicked habits; I saw him sob at my feet after he had almost -strangled me to stifle my shrieks. Later I saw him at the altar, ashamed -and penitent, when he married me; and despite the abhorrence and terror -with which he always inspired me, I was sorry myself, when he died, that -I had not forgiven him. I trembled at the thought of him, but I never -dared to curse his memory; and since I have had you with me once more, O -my beloved son! I have tried to rehabilitate him in my own eyes, so that -I might not have to condemn him before you. Do not blush, therefore, to -bear the name of a man, whose life was fatal to none but me, and who did -great things for his country. But retain for him who brought you up, and -whose son you have believed yourself to be until this day, the same -love, the same respect which you felt for him this morning, -noble-hearted boy, when you handed him Mila's marriage portion and told -him that you would remain a workman in his service all your life, rather -than abandon him!" - -"O Pier-Angelo, father!" cried Michel, with a vehemence which caused his -heart to overflow in sobs, "nothing has changed between us, and on the -day when my entrails no longer quiver for you with filial affection, I -think that I shall have ceased to live!" - - - - -XLV - -MEMORIES - - -Agatha was completely shattered by so much agitation and fatigue. Her -health was delicate although her spirit was strong, and when Michel saw -how pale she was, and that her voice had become almost inaudible, he was -terrified. He began to be conscious of the loving and poignant anxiety -born of a sentiment that was altogether new to him. He had hardly known -the love that a child feels for its mother. Pier-Angelo's wife had been -kind to him, to be sure, but he had lost her when he was very young, and -she had left on his memory the impression of a robust and domineering -virago, irreproachable in her conduct, but somewhat violent, and, -although devoted to her little ones, inclined to talk loud and strike -hard. What a contrast to that exquisite disposition, that soft beauty, -that poetic creature who was called Agatha, and whom Michel could admire -as the ideal of an artist while adoring her as a mother! - -He begged her to lie down and to try to obtain an hour's rest. - -"I will stay with you," he said; "I will sit by your pillow, I shall be -perfectly happy, just looking at you, and you will find me here when you -open your eyes." - -"But this will be the third night that you will have passed almost -without sleep," she said. "Ah! how it pains me on your account to think -of the life we have been leading for several days past!" - -"Do not worry about me, darling mother," replied the young man, covering -her hands with kisses. "I have slept a good deal in the morning these -three days; and now I am so happy, notwithstanding what we have just -gone through, that it seems to me that I shall never sleep again. I -tried to sleep in order to see you again in my dreams: now that the -dream has become reality, I should be afraid of losing it if I slept. -But you must rest, mother.--Ah! how sweet that name mother is!" - -"I am no more inclined to sleep than you are," she said; "I would like -not to leave you for an instant. And as the thought of the Piccinino -still makes me tremble for your life, you shall remain with me until -daylight, whatever the consequences. I will lie down on the bed, as you -insist upon it; sit in this easy chair, with your hand in mine, and if I -haven't the strength to talk to you, I can at all events listen to you; -we have so many things to say to each other! I want to know about your -life from the first day that you can remember down to this moment." - -They passed in this way two hours, which seemed to them like two -minutes; Michel told her the whole story of his life, and did not -conceal even his recent emotions. The passionate attachment which he had -felt for his mother before he knew her no longer raised in his mind any -question too delicate to be translated by words befitting the sanctity -of their new relations. The words he had used to himself had assumed a -new meaning, and whatever impropriety there might have been in them had -vanished like the incoherent words one utters in fever, which leave no -trace when health and reason have returned. - -Moreover, except for a few outbursts of vanity, Michel had had no -thoughts for which he need blush now upon searching his conscience. He -had believed that she loved him, and therein he was hardly in error! He -had been assailed by an ardent passion, and he felt that he loved -Agatha, now that she had become his mother, with no less warmth, -gratitude, even jealousy, than an hour earlier. He could understand now -why he had never seen her without feeling that his heart went out to her -with irresistible force, without an all-powerful attraction, a secret -thrill of pride which had its echo in himself. He remembered that, when -he first saw her, it seemed to him that her face had always been -familiar to him; and when he asked her to explain that miracle, she -replied: "Look in the mirror, and you will see that my features placed -your own image before you; this resemblance, which Pier-Angelo -constantly observed with delight, and which filled my heart with pride, -made me tremble for you. Luckily nobody has noticed it, unless possibly -the cardinal, who ordered his bearers to stop so that he could look at -you, on the day that you arrived in the neighborhood, and, as if guided -by an invisible hand, paused at the gate of your ancestor's palace. My -uncle was formerly the most suspicious and most keen-eyed of persecutors -and despots. Certainly, if he had seen you before he was stricken with -paralysis, he would have recognized you and have had you cast into -prison, then exiled--perhaps assassinated!--without putting a single -question to you. Enfeebled as he was ten days ago, he fastened upon you -a glance which aroused the suspicions of Abbé Ninfo, and his memory -revived so far as to lead him to inquire your age. Who knows what fatal -light might have found its way into his brain, if Providence had not -inspired you to answer that you were twenty-one years old instead of -eighteen!" - -"I am eighteen," said Michel, "and you, mother? You seem to me as young -as I am." - -"I am thirty-two," replied Agatha; "didn't you know?" - -"No! if I had been told that you were my sister, I should have believed -it when I saw you. Oh! what good fortune that you are still so young and -so lovely! You will live as long as I do, won't you? I shall not have -the misfortune to lose you! Lose you!--Ah! now that my life is bound to -yours, the thought of death frightens me, I would like to die neither -before nor after you. But is this the first time that we have ever been -together? I am searching the vague memories of my infancy in the hope of -finding some trace of you." - -"My poor child," said the princess, "I never saw you before the day -when, as I looked at you through a window of the gallery where you were -sleeping, I could not restrain a cry of love and of agonizing joy, which -woke you. Three months ago I did not even know of your existence. I -believed that you died on the day you were born. Otherwise, do you -suppose that I would not have come to Rome, in some disguise or other, -to take you in my arms and rescue you from the dangers of a solitary -life? On the day that Pier-Angelo told me that he had rescued you from -the hands of a villainous midwife, who was about to put you in a -hospital, by order of my parents, that he had fled with you to a foreign -country, and had brought you up as his son, I insisted upon starting for -Rome. I would have done it too, but for the prudence of Fra Angelo, who -pointed out to me that your life would be in danger as long as the -cardinal lived, and that it was better to await his death than to expose -us all to suspicions and investigations. Ah! my son, how horribly I -suffered while I lived alone with the ghastly memories of my youth! -Branded from my girlhood, maltreated, secluded and persecuted by my -family, because I would not disclose the name of the man whom I had -consented to marry as soon as the first symptoms of pregnancy appeared; -parted from my child, and cursed for the tears which his alleged death -caused me to shed; threatened with the horror of seeing him killed -before my eyes, when I yielded to the hope that they had deceived -me--the best years of my life passed amid tears of despair and shudders -of horror. - -"I gave birth to you in this room, Michel on this very spot. It was then -a sort of garret, long unused, which had been transformed into a prison, -in order to conceal the shame of my condition. Nobody knew what had -happened to me! I could hardly have described it, I had hardly -understood it, I was so young and my imagination was so pure. I foresaw -that the truth would bring fresh disasters upon the child I was carrying -within me, and on his father. My governess had died on the day after our -catastrophe, without saying a word, whether because she could not or did -not choose to. No one could extort my secret from me, even during the -pains of childbirth; and when my father and my uncle, standing by my -bed, as pitiless as inquisitors, threatened me with death if I did not -confess what they called my sin, I replied simply that I was innocent -before God, and that it was for Him alone to punish or save the culprit. -Whether or not they ever discovered that I was the wife of Castro-Reale, -I could never find out; his name was never mentioned to me, I was never -questioned concerning him. Nor do I know whether they procured his -assassination, or whether Abbé Ninfo assisted them to surprise him; but -unfortunately I do not think them incapable of it. I know only this, -that at the time of his death, when I had barely recovered from my -confinement, they tried to compel me to marry. Hitherto they had held up -before me as an everlasting punishment, the impossibility of finding a -husband. They took me from my prison, where I had been secluded so -carefully that everyone supposed that I was in the convent at Palermo, -and nothing had transpired out-of-doors. I was rich, fair, and of noble -birth. Twenty suitors came forward. I repelled with horror the idea of -deceiving an honest man, or of confessing my misfortune to a man who was -mean-spirited enough to accept me because of my wealth. My resistance -irritated my father to frenzy. He pretended to take me back to Palermo. -But he brought me back to this room at night, and kept me imprisoned -here for another whole year. - -"It was a ghastly prison, as stifling as the leads of Venice; for the -sun beat down upon a thin covering of metal, this part of the palace -having never been finished and being roofed over temporarily. I endured -thirst, mosquitoes, neglect, solitude, and lack of the fresh air and -exercise which are so essential to the young. But I did not die, I -contracted no disease, the vital principle was so strong within me. My -father, unwilling to entrust the duty of guarding me to any other -person, fearing that the compassion of his servants would lessen my -sufferings, brought me my food himself; and when his political schemes -kept him away from home for days at a time, I underwent the tortures of -hunger. But I had acquired a stoical firmness of will, and I did not -stoop to complain. I also acquired a certain amount of courage and of -faith during that trial, and I do not rebuke God for having inflicted it -on me. Consciousness of duty and regard for justice are great blessings -for which one cannot pay too high a price!" - -Agatha, as she spoke, was half reclining, and her voice, feeble at -first, gradually became animated. She raised herself on her elbow, and, -shaking her long black hair, and calling her son's attention with a -gesture to the luxurious apartment in which they were, she continued: - -"Michel, I pray that material enjoyments and the pride of birth and -fortune may never dazzle you! I have paid dearly for those advantages; -and, in the horrible solitude of this chamber, so bright and cheerful -for us two to-day, I have passed many long sleepless hours, lying on a -wretched pallet, consumed by fever, and asking God why He had not caused -me to be born in a goatherd's cave or on a pirate's ship. I sighed for -liberty, and the lowest of beggars seemed to me more blessed than I. If -I had been poor and obscure, I should have received from my parents -consolation and sympathy in my misfortune; whereas the illustrious -Palmarosas heaped abuse upon their child and accused her of committing a -crime because she would not be compelled to lie, and because she refused -to bolster up the honor of her family by an imposture. I had no books in -my prison; I had received only the most superficial education, and I -utterly failed to understand the persecution of which I was the object. -But, during that tedious and cruel inaction, I reflected, and I -discovered for myself the emptiness of human pride. My moral being was -transformed, so to speak, and everything that gratifies and enhances the -vanity of men appeared to me, at my own expense, in its true light. - -"But why should I say at my expense rather than to my advantage? What -are two years of torture compared with the blessing of truth? When I -returned to liberty and life, when I found that I readily recovered the -vigor of youth, and that I had the necessary time and means to benefit -by the ideas that had come to me, a great calmness overspread my heart, -and I voluntarily adopted the habit, theretofore forced upon me, of -self-denial and resolution. - -"I renounced forever all idea of love and marriage. The thought of that -bliss was marred and sullied in my imagination; and as for the cravings -of the heart, there was no longer anything individual in mine. They had -extended beyond the circle of selfish passions; I had conceived in my -suffering one genuine passion, the object of which was not the enjoyment -and triumph of one human being standing apart from the general misery by -virtue of her own prosperity. That passion, which consumed me like a -fever, and I may say with feverish intensity, was the longing to fight -for the weak against their oppressors, and to be as lavish of -benefactions and consolation as my family had been of persecution and -dread. I had been brought up to respect and fear the court, to detest -and distrust my unhappy countrymen. Had it not been for my own -catastrophe I should probably have followed those precepts and examples -of hideous cruelty. My heedless nature, wherein I resembled the women of -my country, might never have conceived anything better than the -principles of my family, which was not one of those that were subjected -to persecution, and in which exile and suffering have inspired horror of -the foreign yoke and love of country. My kinsmen, being ardently devoted -to the ruling powers, had always been overwhelmed with favors, and the -renewed prosperity which we shall soon owe to the cardinal's inheritance -makes us a shameful exception among the many illustrious families whom I -have seen ground into the dust by exorbitant taxes and by outlawry. - -"I was no sooner mistress of my actions and my property than I devoted -my life to the relief of the unfortunate. As a woman I was debarred from -taking an interest in politics, the social sciences or philosophy. And -indeed what man can possibly do it under the yoke that is crushing us? -But what I could do was to assist the victims of tyranny, to whatever -class they might belong. I soon found that their number was so great -that my income would not suffice, even if I deprived myself of the -necessaries of life. Thereupon my mind was soon made up. I had -determined not to marry. I was ignorant of your existence, and I looked -upon myself as alone in the world. I caused an exact statement of my -fortune to be prepared--a precaution which the wealthy patricians of our -province very rarely take; their indifference keeps them from visiting -their estates when they are in the interior of the island, and many have -never set foot upon them. I investigated my property and made myself -familiar with it; first of all, I sold a part in small lots, intending -to supply the poor people of these regions with a little land at a very -low price, in a majority of cases for nothing. That was unsuccessful. A -people that has fallen into the lowest stage of poverty and slavery -cannot be saved with a stroke of the pen. I tried other methods which I -will describe to you in detail at another time. They failed. Everything -is bound to fail when the laws of a country have decreed its ruin. I had -no sooner made a family happy, than the taxes, increasing with its -prosperity, made a poverty-stricken family of it. How can order and -stability be secured when the state seizes sixty per cent of the income -of the humble workingman as well as of the idle rich man? - -"Thus I learned, with profound sorrow, that in conquered and downtrodden -countries there is no resource but almsgiving, and I devoted my life to -that. It required much more activity and perseverance than gifts -outright and sacrifices of capital. This life of small benefactions and -constant sacrifices is a task without respite, without limits and -without recompense; for almsgiving affords only a momentary remedy; it -creates the necessity of being repeated and extended ad infinitum, and -one never sees the result of the toil one imposes upon oneself. Oh! how -cruel it is to live and love when one dresses every hour a wound that -cannot be healed, when one unceasingly casts one's heart and strength -into a pit which can no more be filled than the crater of Ætna! - -"I accepted this task, and I devote all my time to it; I realize its -inefficiency, and I am not discouraged. I no longer cry out against -sloth, debauchery and all the vices that poverty engenders; or, if I do, -my anger is no longer against those who acquire these vices but against -those who impose them and perpetuate them. I do not quite understand -what is meant by discernment in almsgiving. That is all very well for -free countries, where a reprimand may serve some purpose, and where the -precepts of practical morality are for the use of all men. Among us, -alas! misery is so widespread that good and evil are to many persons of -mature years words devoid of sense; and to preach orderliness, honesty -and prudence, amid suffering and hunger, is almost ferocious pedantry. - -"My income has not always been sufficient to meet so many calls, Michel, -and you will find your mother's fortune secretly undermined by -excavations of such depth that it may perhaps crumble on my grave. Were -it not for the cardinal's inheritance, I should regret to-day that I had -not saved for you sufficient means to serve your country as you will; -but to-morrow you will be richer than I have ever been, and you will -administer your fortune according to your principles and the dictates of -your heart. I shall impose no task upon you. To-morrow you will enter -into possession of this great power, and I shall not be at all disturbed -as to the use you may make of it. I am sure of you. You have been -brought up in a good school, my son--the school of poverty and toil! I -know how you repair trivial faults; I know of what sacrifices your heart -is capable when it is at odds with a consciousness of duty. Prepare, -therefore, to bear the burden of your misfortune--to be a prince in fact -as well as in name. Within three days you have embarked upon what seem -to be strange adventures; you have received more than one valuable -lesson. Fra Angelo, the Marquis della Serra, Magnani--even Mila, the -sweet child--have spoken to you in a language which has made a profound -impression on you, I know. I saw it in your conduct, in your -determination to remain an artisan; and from that moment I promised -myself that I would disclose to you the secret of your destiny, even -though the cardinal should live on and compel us to take extraordinary -precautions." - -"O mother, how noble you are! and how little people know you when they -think that you are a mere devotee, apathetic or eccentric? Your life is -the life of a saint or martyr: nothing for yourself, everything for -others!" - -"Do not give me so much credit, my child," replied Agatha. "Innocent as -I was, I had no claim to share in the general happiness. I was borne -down by a fatality which all my efforts had succeeded only in making -more burdensome. By denying myself love, I was simply fulfilling the -plainest duty that honor imposes upon a woman. So, too, in becoming a -sister of charity I obeyed the imperative outcry of my conscience. I had -been unfortunate; I knew unhappiness by personal experience; I was no -longer one of those who can refuse to credit the sufferings of others -because they have never suffered themselves. I may, perhaps, have done -good without judgment; at all events, I have done it without remission -and with the utmost zeal. But, in my eyes, to do good does not amount to -so much as is generally supposed. To do good in this way is simply not -to do evil; not to be selfish means simply that one is not blind nor -detestable. I have such unbounded pity for those who are vain of their -good works, that I have hidden mine almost as sedulously as I kept the -secret of my marriage and your birth. My character has never been -understood. I did not wish that it should be. So that I have no right to -complain of having been misjudged." - -"Ah! but I know you," said Michel, "and my heart will repay you a -hundredfold for all the happiness of which you have been deprived." - -"I know it," she replied. "Your tears prove it, and I feel it; for, -since you have been with me, I should have forgotten that I had ever -been unhappy, if I had not had my story to tell you." - -"Thank you, mother, but do not say that you leave me at liberty to do as -I please. I am only a child, and I feel so insignificant beside you that -I never desire to see anything except through your eyes, or to act -except by your orders. I will help you to carry the burden of wealth and -of almsgiving, but I will be your man of business--nothing more. I, a -rich man and a prince! I, endowed with any sort of authority when you -are here! when I am your son!" - -"My child, you must be a man. I have not had the happiness of bringing -you up; I could have done it no better than worthy Pier-Angelo. It is my -business now to love you--nothing more--and that is enough. To justify -my love, you will not need to have your ancestors' portraits say to you: -'_I am not pleased with you_.'--You will so conduct yourself that your -mother will always say to you: '_I am pleased with you_.' But listen, -Michel! the bells are tolling; all the bells in the city are tolling the -knell of a dying man, and it must be some great personage. It is your -kinsman--your enemy--Cardinal Palmarosa, who is about to be called to -account by God for his crimes. It is daylight, and we must part. Go and -pray to God to be merciful to him. I go to receive his last breath!" - - - - -XLVI - -GLADNESS OF HEART - - -While the princess rang for her maid and ordered her horses, that she -might go and pay her last respects to the moribund cardinal, Michel went -down into the park from the flower garden by the staircase cut in the -lava; but, when he was only halfway down, he spied Master Barbagallo, -who was already on his feet and beginning his conscientious day's work, -very far from believing, the excellent man, that that splendid palace -and those beautiful gardens were no longer aught save the deceptive -symbol and the vain simulacrum of a handsome fortune. In his eyes to -expend one's income in almsgiving was a lordly and estimable custom. He -seconded the princess zealously in her charitable work. But to encroach -upon one's capital was a heinous sin, inconsistent with the hereditary -dignity of a great name; and, if Agatha had enlightened him or consulted -him in that respect, all his genealogical learning would have been none -too much to prove to her that no Palmarosa had ever committed that crime -of lèse-nobility, unless at the bidding of his king. What! deprive -oneself of the real source of one's power for the benefit of miserable -wretches! Fie! unless it were a question of founding a hospital or a -monastery, monuments which endure, and which transmit the renown and -virtue of the founder to posterity, and impart new glory to a name -instead of dimming its lustre. - -Michel, when he saw the majordomo innocently blocking his path--for -Barbagallo was gazing fixedly at an East India shrub which he had -planted with his own hands at the foot of the staircase--determined to -lower his head and pass rapidly on without any explanation. A few hours -later, he would have no motive for concealment, but, for propriety's -sake, it would be much better to await the princess's public -declaration. - -But the majordomo seemed to be planted beside his shrub. He was -surprised that the climate of Catania, which, according to him, was the -most salubrious climate in the world, did not agree with that rare plant -better than the climate of the tropics; which fact proves that he -understood the cultivation of genealogical trees better than that of -real trees. He was stooping--almost lying oh the ground--to see if some -destructive worm had not attacked the roots of the languishing plant. - -Michel, having reached the lowest stair, decided to leap over Master -Barbagallo, who uttered a loud yell, thinking perhaps that it was the -beginning of a volcanic eruption, and that a stone vomited forth by some -near-by crater had fallen beside him. - -His exclamation had such a comical, rancous sound that Michel laughed -heartily. - -"_Cristo_!" cried the majordomo, as he recognized the young artist, whom -the princess had ordered him to treat with great consideration, but whom -he was very far from believing to be Agatha's son or lover. - -But, when his first fright had passed, he tried to collect his thoughts, -while Michel walked swiftly across the park. He awoke to the fact that -Pier-Angelo's son had come from the flower garden before sunrise; from -the princess's flower garden! that private, fortified sanctuary, to -which none but a favored lover could gain an entrance at night! - -"Princess Agatha have a lover! and such a lover! when the Marquis della -Serra, who is hardly worthy to aspire to the honor of winning her favor, -never goes in or out except by the principal door of the palace!" - -That was an impossible supposition. So Master Barbagallo, having no -means of denying so palpable a fact, and not presuming to comment upon -it, limited himself to a frequent repetition of the word _Cristo_! And, -after standing like a statue for some moments, he concluded to attend to -his duties as usual, and to forbid himself to think upon any subject -whatsoever until further orders. - -Michel was hardly less surprised by his own situation than the majordomo -by what he had seen. Of all the dreams he had dreamed in the last three -days, the most unexpected, the most prodigious, beyond any question, was -this one that had crowned and elucidated the others. He walked straight -ahead, and the instinct born of habit guided him toward his father's -house in the suburb, although he had no idea where he was going. Every -object upon which his eyes rested seemed new and strange to him. The -magnificence of the palaces and the squalor of the houses of the common -people presented a contrast which hitherto had saddened him only as a -condition by which he himself had to suffer, and which he had accepted -as an inevitable law of society. Now that he felt that he was a free and -powerful member of that society, compassion and kindliness poured into -his heart, broader and less selfish than before. He felt that he was a -better man since he had been numbered among the fortunate few, and the -consciousness of the duty resting upon him vibrated in his breast under -the impulsion of his mother's generous breath. He felt that he had -increased in size among his fellowmen since he had been charged with -ameliorating their lot instead of being oppressed by them. In a word, he -felt himself every inch a prince, and was no longer surprised that he -had always been ambitious. But his ambition had assumed a nobler shape -in his mind on the day that he had put it into words in answer to -Magnani's criticisms; and now that it was gratified, far from debasing -him, it exalted him and raised him above himself. There are men--and, -unfortunately, they are in the majority--whom prosperity degrades and -perverts; but a truly noble mind sees in the power of wealth only a -means of doing good, and eighteen years is an age at which the ideals -are pure and the mind open to grand and worthy aspirations. - -As he entered the suburb, he saw a poor woman begging, with one child in -her arms and three others clinging to her ragged skirts. Tears came to -his eyes, and he put both hands in the pockets of his jacket, for on the -day before he had assumed the livery of the common people, resolved to -continue to wear it a long time--always if he must. But he found that -his pockets were empty, and he remembered that as yet he possessed -nothing. - -"Forgive me, my poor woman," he said, "to-morrow I will give you -something. Be here to-morrow, I will come again." - -The poor creature thought that he was making sport of her, and said to -him in a solemn tone, drawing herself up in her rags with the majesty of -the southern peoples: "You must not make sport of the poor, my boy; it -brings bad luck." - -"Yes, yes!" said Michel, as he walked away; "I believe it, I am sure of -it! that shall never happen to me." - -A little farther on he met some laundresses who were coolly hanging -their linen on a line stretched across the street, over the heads of the -passers-by. Michel stooped, as he would not have done the day before; he -would have thrust the obstacle aside with an impatient hand. The two -pretty girls who held the line to keep it taut were grateful to him and -smiled upon him; but when Michel had passed this first curtain of the -_biancheria_, and as he stooped to pass under a second, he heard the old -laundress say to her apprentices in the tone of an angry sibyl: "Lower -your eyes, Ninetta; don't turn your head like that, Rosalina! that's -little Michelangelo Lavoratori, who sets himself up for a great painter, -but he will never be the man his father is! A fig for children who turn -up their noses at their father's trade!" - -"I absolutely must adopt the profession of prince," thought Michel with -a smile, "for the profession of artist would have drawn too much blame -upon me." - -He entered his house, and for the first time it seemed to him -picturesque and attractive in its wretched disorder. "It is a genuine -artist's house of the Middle Ages," he said to himself; "I have lived -here only a few days, but I shall always remember them as among the -sweetest and purest days of my life." It seemed to him that he already -regretted that humble family nest, and the vague longing he had felt the -day before for a less prosaic, a more splendid abode seemed to him an -unhealthy, insane longing, so true it is that one exaggerates the value -of the good things of life when one has them not. - -"I could have passed years here very comfortably," he thought, "as happy -as I shall be in a palace, provided that my conscience was always as -well satisfied with itself as it was when Pier-Angelo said to me: 'Well, -you are a man of heart, that you are!' All the portraits of the -Palmarosas and Castro-Reales may tell me that they are pleased with me; -they will afford me no more joy than those words from my father the -artisan." - -He entered as a prince that house from which he had gone forth an -artisan but a few hours earlier, and he crossed the threshold with a -feeling of profound respect. Then he hurried to his father's bedside, -thinking to find him asleep. But Pier-Angelo was with Mila, who had not -slept at all she was so disturbed because her brother had not returned. -The old man suspected that the princess had kept him; but he was unable -to make Mila assent to the probability of that supposition. Michel threw -himself into their arms and wept tears of joy. Pier-Angelo understood -what had taken place, and why the young Prince of Castro-Reale called -him _father_ so effusively, and would not allow him to call him Michel, -but made him say _my son_ whenever he spoke. - -Mila was greatly surprised when Michel, instead of embracing her with -his usual familiarity, kissed her hand again and again, calling her his -darling sister. - -"What's the matter, Michel?" she said, "and why this act of respect with -me? You say that nothing extraordinary has happened, that you have been -in no danger during the night, and yet you bid us good-morning like a -man who has just escaped death, or who brings us paradise in the hollow -of his hand. Well, well! now that you are here, we are as happy as the -saints in heaven, it is true! for I had many bad dreams while I was -waiting for you. I woke poor Magnani two hours before daylight and sent -him in search of you; and he is searching still. He must have gone to -Bel Passo, to see if you were not with our uncle." - -"Dear, good Magnani!" cried Michel; "I will go out and find him, in -order to set your mind at rest and to see him the sooner. But first I -want to breakfast with you two at our cosy little table; I want to eat -some of the rice that you cook so deliciously, Mila, and the water-melon -that nobody can select so well as you." - -"See how sweet he is whenever he doesn't choose to be capricious!" said -Mila, looking at her brother. "When he is in one of his fits of temper, -nothing is good, the rice is cooked too much and the water-melons are -over-ripe. To-day everything is delicious, even before he tastes it." - -"I shall be like this every day henceforth, my darling sister," said -Michel; "I shall have no more bad temper, I shall ask you no more -impertinent questions, and I trust that you will have no better friend -in the world than me." - -As soon as he was alone with Pier-Angelo, Michel knelt before him. "Give -me your blessing," he said, "and forgive me for not having been worthy -of you always. I will be hereafter, and if I should hesitate a moment on -the path of duty, promise that you will scold me and lecture me more -severely than you have ever done." - -"Prince," said Pier-Angelo, "I should have been more severe perhaps if I -had been your father; but--" - -"O father," cried Michel, "never call me by that name, and never say -that I am not your son. Of course I am the happiest of men to be -Princess Agatha's son, but it would be mingling gall with my happiness -to try to accustom myself to the thought that I am not yours; and if you -call me prince, I will never be one; I will insist on remaining a -mechanic!" - -"Very well, so be it!" said Pier-Angelo, embracing him; "let us continue -to be father and son, as we were; I like that better, especially as I -should cling to the old habits in spite of myself, even if you had been -offended. Now, listen; I know beforehand what you will say to me in a -moment. You will want to make me a rich man. I want to say to you -beforehand that I beg you not to torment me on that subject. I prefer to -remain as I am; I am very happy. Money brings anxiety; I have never been -able to keep it. The princess will do what she thinks best for your -sister; but I doubt whether the little one cares to rise above her -condition, for if I am not mistaken, she is in love with our neighbor, -Antonio Magnani, and has no idea of marrying anybody else. Magnani will -not consent to accept anything from you, I know; he is a man like me, -who loves his trade and would blush to be assisted when he earns all he -needs. Don't be angry, my son; I accepted your sister's marriage-portion -yesterday. That was not the gift of a prince, it was the wages of a -workman, the sacrifice of a loving brother. I was proud of it, and your -sister, when she knows about it, won't be ashamed; but I did not think -it best to tell her yet. She would never have accepted it, she is so -accustomed to look upon your artistic future as a sacred thing; and the -child is obstinate, as you know. - -"As for me, Michel, you know me too. If I were rich, I should be ashamed -to work. People would think I did it from avarice, and to add a little -to my savings. Nor could I work if I were not driven to it; I am a -creature of habit, a routine workman; every day would be Sunday to me, -and it would be as injurious for me to amuse myself all the week as it -is advantageous for me to enjoy myself a little at table on the blessed -day of rest. Ennui would lay hold of me, and melancholy after that. I -should try to escape from it by intemperance perhaps, as most men do who -don't know how to read and so can't keep up their spirits with beautiful -written stories. But one must feed one's brain when the body is at rest, -and they feed it with wine. That is worse than nothing, I know by -experience. When I go to a wedding festival I enjoy myself the first -day, I am bored the second, and sick the third. No, no! I must have my -apron, my ladder, my glue-pot, and my ballads, or each hour seems as -long as two. If you blush for me--But no, I won't finish, it is -insulting to you; you will never blush for me. In that case, let me live -as I please, and when I am too old and feeble to work, you shall take me -in and take care of me; I agree to that, I give you my word on it. I can -do nothing better for you, I am sure." - -"Your wishes shall be sacred to me," Michel replied, "and I realize -fully that it is impossible for me to pay my debt to you with money; it -would be altogether too easy to be able to liquidate a debt running -through one's whole lifetime in an instant and without the slightest -trouble. Ah! if I could only double the duration of your life, and -restore, at the expense of my blood, the strength you have expended in -supporting and educating me!" - -"Do not hope to pay me otherwise than by affection," replied the old -decorator. "Youth cannot return, and I desire nothing that is contrary -to the divine laws. If I have worked for you, I have done it with -pleasure and without ever relying upon any other reward than that of -seeing you make a wise use of your good fortune. The princess knows my -way of thinking in that respect. If she should pay me for your -education, she would deprive me of all my merit and pride; for I have a -certain pride of my own, and I shall be proud to hear people say as they -will before long: 'What a loyal Sicilian and good prince this -Castro-Reale is! And yet it was that old fool of a Pier-Angelo who -brought him up.' Come, give me your hand, and let us say no more about -it. It would hurt me a little, I confess. It seems that the cardinal is -dying. I want you to say a prayer with me for him, for he needs it -sadly; he was a wicked man, and the woman who was taking you to the -hospital, when my brother the monk and I snatched you from her arms, -looked as if she would much rather throw you into the sea than into the -orphan's crib. So let us pray with a good heart! Come, Michel, it won't -be long." - -And Pier-Angelo, uncovering, said in a loud voice and in a tone of the -deepest sincerity: "O my God! forgive us our sins, and forgive Cardinal -Hieronimo, as we ourselves forgive him. In the name of the Father, the -Son, and the Holy Ghost, Amen.--Michel, you didn't say _amen_, did you?" - -"Amen, with all my heart," replied Michel, filled with respect for the -artless piety with which Pier-Angelo forgave his persecutor. - -For Monsignor Hieronimo had been very cruel to the poor mechanic. He had -had only suspicions against him, and yet he had prosecuted him, thrown -him into prison, ruined him, and finally forced him to exile himself, -which last was the greatest sorrow that could have been inflicted upon -honest Pier-Angelo. - -As Mila was beginning to be anxious concerning Magnani, who did not -return, Michel started out in search of him. All the bells in the city -were tolling for the dying cardinal; prayers were being said in all the -churches, and the poor people who were oppressed, held to ransom and -punished by him at the slightest symptom of rebellion, knelt devoutly on -the steps of the churches to ask God to absolve him. Doubtless one and -all rejoiced inwardly at the first stroke of the bell, and would rejoice -still more at the last. But the terrors of hell acted so powerfully on -those vivid imaginations that mortal resentment vanished in face of the -threat which those clanging bells seemed to hold suspended over every -head. - -Michel, as he did not hear the final knell announcing that death had -seized his prey, and, as he felt sure that his mother would not leave -the deathbed until that decisive moment had arrived, bent his steps -toward the hill of Mal Passo. He wished to embrace his friend and his -uncle once more before they saluted him as Prince of Castro-Reale. He -dreaded especially the moment when Magnani would put on the armor of -pride, and perhaps of coldness, in his unjust fear of contemptuous -treatment by Michel. He was determined to stipulate in advance for the -continuance of their friendship, to demand his solemn promise to that -effect, and to inform him first of all of his new position after he had -cemented that sacred brotherhood in Fra Angelo's presence. - -And then, too, Michel thought of the Piccinino. He said to himself that -it was not so far from the convent to Nicolosi that he could not go and -visit his brother before he had taken any measures against the princess -and himself. He could not make up his mind to defy and await schemes of -revenge which might attack his mother before himself; and, though he -should find the bastard in a paroxysm of rage worse than that in which -he had last seen him, he looked upon it as his duty as a man and a son -to meet alone its first consequences. - -On the way Michel remembered that he was a painter on seeing the rising -sun illumine the landscape. A feeling of profound sadness suddenly took -possession of him. His artistic future seemed to be at an end, and as he -passed the gate of Villa Palmarosa--as he glanced at that niche with its -madonna, from which he had saluted the steeples of Catania for the first -time--his heart was heavy, as if twenty years, instead of half as many -days, had elapsed between this dénouement of his life and his -adventurous youth, overflowing with poetic aspirations, with fears and -hopes. The absolute security of his new position frightened him, and he -asked himself in dismay if a painter's genius would not be inadequately -accommodated in the brain of a rich man and a prince. What would become -of ambition, wrath, terror, the frenzy for work, obstacles to be -overcome, triumphs to be defended--those powerful and necessary -stimulants? Instead of enemies to spur him on, he would have only -flatterers to corrupt his judgment and his taste; instead of poverty to -force him to hard work and to sustain him in the fever of composition, -he would be surfeited in advance with all the advantages which art -pursues at least as eagerly as it pursues renown. - -He heaved a deep sigh, but soon took courage, saying to himself that he -would prove himself worthy to have friends who would tell him the truth, -and that, while pursuing that nobler object--renown--he could renounce -more completely the material profits of the profession and the vulgar -judgment of the multitude. - -Reflecting thus, he reached the monastery. The bells were ringing in -response to those of the city, and that monotonous and depressing -dialogue was carried on in the crisp morning air amid the songs of the -birds and the murmuring of the breezes. - - - - -XLVII - -THE VULTURE - - -Magnani knew all, for Agatha had at least suspected his passion, if she -had not actually divined it; and she had told him the story of her life. -She had described her blighted, desolate past, and her present, devoted -to serious pursuits and absorbed by maternal affections. By thus -displaying her confidence in him and her regard for him, she had at all -events healed the secret wound inflicted upon his plebeian pride. She -had with delicate tact pointed out to him that the obstacle between them -was not the difference in rank and in their ideas, but the difference -between their ages and the decree of an inflexible destiny. In a word, -she had raised him to her own level by treating him as a brother, and if -she had not effected a complete cure at the first attempt, she had -removed all the bitterness of his suffering. Then she had adroitly -brought Mila's name into the conversation, and, when he realized that -the princess desired their union, Magnani had deemed it to be his duty -to comply with her desire. - -That duty he determined to set about performing at once, and he fully -appreciated the fact that Agatha, to punish him for his madness, had -pointed out to him the easiest, not to say the most delightful of -expiations. As he had not shared Mila's uneasiness with respect to -Michel's absence, he had gone out simply to please her, with no idea -that there was any need of going in search of him. He had called upon -Fra Angelo, to consult him concerning the girl's sentiments, and to ask -for his advice and support. When he reached the monastery, the monks -were reciting prayers for the cardinal's soul, and he was obliged to -wait in the garden, with its paths of earthenware and its borders of -lava, until Fra Angelo could come to him. The doleful chanting depressed -him, and he could not avoid a presentiment of evil to come as he thought -that he was cherishing the hope of a happy betrothal in the midst of a -funeral ceremony. - -On the preceding evening, before he parted from Pier-Angelo on their -return from the Della Serra palace, he had sounded the old artisan -concerning his daughter's feelings. Pier-Angelo, delighted by that -overture, had ingenuously replied that he believed that she loved him; -but as Magnani distrusted his good fortune, and hardly dared hope, -Pier-Angelo had advised him to consult his brother the Capuchin, whom, -although younger than himself, he was accustomed to look upon as the -head of the family. - -Magnani was very uncertain and disturbed in mind. And yet a mysterious -voice told him that Mila loved him. He recalled her furtive glances, her -sudden blushes, her concealed tears, her deathly pallor, aye, and her -words, which denoted an affectation of indifference prompted by pride. -He hoped; he awaited impatiently the end of the prayers, and when Fra -Angelo joined him he begged him to give him his attention, to advise -him, and above all things to tell him the truth without concealment. - -"This is a serious matter," the good monk replied; "I have always had -the friendliest feeling for your family, my son, and a very high regard -for you. But are you sure that you know me and love me well enough to -believe me if the advice that I give you is contrary to your secret -desires? For we monks are often consulted, and very little heed is paid -to our counsel. Everyone comes and confides his thoughts and passions, -even his business affairs to us, because it is commonly supposed that -men with no direct interest in life have a keener insight than others. -That is a mistake. In most cases our advice is either too complaisant to -be worth following or so severe that it is impossible to follow it. For -my part I dislike to give advice." - -"Very well," said Magnani, "if you do not consider me capable of making -the most of your counsel, will you promise to answer, without -hesitation, and with perfect frankness, a question I am going to ask -you?" - -"Hesitation is not a failing of mine, my friend. But for lack of careful -handling one may inflict much pain on those whom one loves, and do you -want me to be cruel to you? You subject my affection to a painful test!" - -"You frighten me beforehand, Padre Angelo. It seems to me that you have -already guessed the question I am going to ask you." - -"Ask it, so that I may see if I am not mistaken." - -"And you will answer?" - -"I will answer." - -"Well," said Magnani, in a trembling voice, "should I do well to ask -your brother to give me Mila's hand?" - -"Precisely, that is what I expected. My brother has already spoken to me -about it. He thinks that his daughter loves you; he thinks that he has -detected it." - -"Great God! if it were true!" said Magnani, clasping his hands. - -But Fra Angelo's face maintained its cold, sad expression. - -"You do not consider me worthy to be Mila's husband," continued the -modest Magnani. "It is true that I am not, padre; but if you knew how -firmly I have resolved to become worthy!" - -"My friend," rejoined the monk, "the day on which you should become -Mila's husband, if you love each other fervently and sincerely, would be -the happiest day in Pier-Angelo's life and mine; for we monks know that -a man must love with his whole soul the spouse to whom he gives his -life, whether that spouse be the family or the church. I believe that -you love Mila, since you seek her hand; but I do not know whether Mila -loves you or whether my brother is mistaken." - -"Alas!" replied Magnani, "nor do I know myself." - -"You do not know?" said Fra Angelo, drawing his eyebrows together; "she -has never told you so?" - -"Never!" - -"But she has granted you some innocent favors, has she not? She has been -alone with you?" - -"Only by chance or from necessity." - -"She has never made an appointment with you?" - -"Never!" - -"Not yesterday? was she not walking with you, in this neighborhood, last -night at sunset?" - -"Last night, in this neighborhood?" repeated Magnani, turning pale; "no, -padre." - -"On your salvation?" - -"On my salvation and my honor!" - -"In that case, Magnani, you must not think about Mila. Mila loves -someone, and you are not that some one. And the worst of it is that -neither her father nor I can guess who it is. Would to God that a girl -so devoted to her duties, so hard-working, and down to this very day so -modest, might have taken a fancy to a man like you! You would have -brought up a family nobly, and your union would have edified your -neighbors. But Mila is a child, and a romantic child, I fear. Hereafter -we must watch her more carefully; I will warn her father, and you, being -a man of heart, will say nothing and forget her." - -"What!" cried Magnani, "can it be that Mila, the personification of -honesty, courage, and innocence, already has a misstep upon her -conscience? Great God! have chastity and truth ceased to exist on -earth?" - -"I do not say that," the monk replied: "I trust that Mila is still pure; -but she is on the road to her destruction if someone does not hold her -back. Last night, at sunset, she passed here, all alone, and dressed in -her best clothes; she tried to avoid me, she refused to account for -herself, she tried to lie. Ah! I prayed earnestly for her last night, -and I slept but little." - -"I will keep Mila's secret, and I will think no more about her," said -Magnani, utterly confounded. - -But he continued to think of her. It was natural to his character, grave -and strong, but incapable of boastful confidence, to go forward to meet -obstacles, and to halt when he reached them, unable to surmount them or -to make up his mind to turn his back upon them. - -At that moment Michel arrived; he seemed to have undergone a magical -transformation since the preceding day, although he still wore his -artisan's jacket; his forehead and his eyes seemed larger, his nostrils -inhaled the air more freely, his chest seemed to have developed in a -different atmosphere. The pride, the conscious strength, the -tranquillity of the free man shone in his face. - -"Ah!" said Magnani, throwing himself into the arms the young prince held -out to him, "your dream has come true already, Michel! It was a -beautiful dream! the awakening is still more beautiful. I have been -struggling with a nightmare which your good fortune has driven away, but -which has left me bewildered and crushed by fatigue." - -Fra Angelo blessed them both, and said, addressing the prince: - -"I hail with joy your accession to greatness and power, when I see you -embrace a man of the common people of your native country. Michel de -Castro-Reale, Michelangelo Lavoratori, I shall always love you as my -nephew, while loving you as my prince. Will you tell me now, _your -excellency_, that it is an imposition for those of my class to love and -serve yours?" - -"Do not remind me of my heresies, my excellent uncle," replied Michel. -"I no longer know to what class I belong; I feel that I am a man and a -Sicilian, that is all." - -"Long live Sicily!" cried the Capuchin, saluting Ætna. - -"Long live Sicily!" echoed Michel, saluting Catania. - -Magnani was deeply moved and his manner was most affectionate. He -rejoiced sincerely in Michel's good fortune; but, for his own part, he -was sorely distressed by the obstacle that had arisen between Mila and -him, and he trembled lest he should fall anew under the empire of his -former passion. But the mother is something more than the woman, and the -thought of Agatha in that new aspect made Magnani's adoration calmer and -more solemn than it had been before. He felt that he should blush in -Michel's presence if he retained the slightest trace of his madness. He -determined to banish it altogether, and, happy in the thought that he -could always say to himself that he had devoted his youth, by a solemn -vow, to the loveliest saint in heaven, he retained her image and her -memory in his heart like a divine perfume. - -Magnani was cured; but what a sad cure, to renounce, at twenty-five, all -the dreams of love! He was resigned to his fate; but from that moment -life was to him nothing more than a stern and passionless duty. - -The reveries and torments which had made that duty dear to him no longer -existed. Never was there a man on earth more utterly alone, more -disgusted with all earthly things, than Magnani on the day of his -deliverance. - -He left Fra Angelo and Michel, who proposed to go at once to Nicolosi, -and passed the rest of the day walking alone by the seashore, opposite -the basaltic isles of Acireale. - -The young prince and the monk started immediately after making up their -minds to visit the Piccinino. They were approaching the ill-omened -_Destatore's_ Cross when the bells of Catania, changing their rhythm, -rang the knell that announces death. Fra Angelo crossed himself without -stopping; Michel thought of his father, who had perhaps been -assassinated by order of that wicked prelate, and quickened his pace in -order to kneel upon the grave of Castro-Reale. - -He did not as yet feel the courage to examine that fatal cross, where he -had experienced such painful emotions, even before he knew of the tie of -blood that bound him to the bandit of Ætna. But a huge vulture, -starting up suddenly from the very foot of the cross, forced him -involuntarily to turn his eyes in that direction. For a moment he -thought that he was the victim of a ghastly hallucination. A dead body -lay in a pool of blood at the spot from which the vulture had fled. - -Frozen with horror, Michel and his uncle drew near and recognized the -body of Abbé Ninfo, half disfigured by pistol shots fired at -point-blank range. The murder had been premeditated or committed with -extraordinary sang-froid, for the perpetrator had taken the time and -trouble to write with chalk, in small letters, close together, on the -black lava pedestal of the cross, this ferociously concise inscription: - -"Here was found, eighteen years ago to-day, the body of a celebrated -brigand, _Il Destatore_, Prince of Castro-Reale, the avenger of the woes -of his country. - -"Here will be found to-day the body of his assassin, Abbé Ninfo, who -has confessed his participation in the crime. So cowardly a champion -would not have dared to strike openly so gallant a man. He led him into -a trap, into which he himself has fallen at last, after eighteen years -of unpunished crimes. - -"More fortunate than Castro-Reale, who was struck down by slaves, Ninfo -has fallen by the hand of a free man. - -"If you wish to know who condemned the _Destatore_ and paid for his -murder, ask Satan, who, within an hour, will receive before his tribunal -the wicked soul of Cardinal Hieronimo de Palmarosa. - -"Do not accuse Castro-Reale's widow: she is innocent. - -"Michel de Castro-Reale, there is still much blood to be shed before -your father's death is avenged! - -"He who writes these lines is the bastard of Castro-Reale, whom men call -the Piccinino and the _Justicier d'aventure_. He it was who killed the -knave Ninfo. He did it at sunrise, to the sound of the bells which -announced the death agony of Cardinal Palmarosa. He did it so that it -may not be thought that all villains can die in their beds. - -"Let the first man who reads this inscription copy or remember it and -carry it to the people of Catania!" - -"Let us rub it out," said Michel, "or my brother's audacity will be -fatal to him." - -"No, let us not rub it out," said the monk. "Your brother is too prudent -not to be far away from here before this, and we have no right to -deprive the nobles and people of Catania of a terrible example and a -bloody lesson. The proud Castro-Reale assassinated! assassinated by the -cardinal! lured into a trap by this vile abbé! Ah! I ought to have -guessed it! He had too much vigor and courage still to stoop to suicide. -Do not accuse your brother of being over severe, Michel, and do not look -upon this vengeance as a mere useless crime. You do not know what your -father was in his good days, his great days. You do not know that he was -on the point of mending his ways and becoming once more the dispenser of -justice on the mountain. He was repentant. He believed in God, he still -loved his country, and he adored your mother. If he could but have lived -as he was living a year more, she would have loved him, and would have -forgiven everything. She would have come and shared his perils, she -would have been the brigand's wife instead of being the prisoner and -victim of his murderers. She would have brought you up herself, she -would never have been parted from you! You would have drunk the milk of -a lioness and you would have grown to manhood in the tempest. Everything -would be better so! Sicily would be nearer its deliverance than it will -be ten years hence; and I should not have continued to be a monk. -Instead of walking up the mountain, with folded arms, to see this body -lying in a corner and the Piccinino flying among the precipices, we -should all be together, rifle in hand, fighting desperately against the -Swiss mercenaries of Naples, and perhaps marching on Catania with the -yellow flag flaunting its golden folds in the morning breeze! Yes, -everything would be better so, I tell you, Prince of Castro-Reale!--But -God's will be done!" added Fra Angelo, remembering at last that he was a -monk. - -Being certain that the Piccinino must have left the valley long before -the hour named in the inscription as that of the murder, Michel and the -monk went no farther, but retraced their steps from that wild spot where -the abbé's corpse would be at the mercy of the vulture for some hours -to come, before anyone would interrupt his ghastly feast. As they turned -away, they saw the ill-omened bird fly over their heads, returning with -savage eagerness to his prey. - -"That is the fate you deserved," said the monk, calmly; "to be eaten by -dogs and vultures! that is the malediction which people in all ages have -called down upon spies and traitors. You are very pale, my young prince, -and perhaps you think me very harsh in my judgment of a priest, being -myself a churchman. What can you expect? It may be that I have seen and -done with my own hand, perhaps, more killing than is consistent with the -salvation of my soul! but in conquered countries, you see, war sometimes -has no other resource than murder. Do not think that the Piccinino is -worse than other men. He was born calm and long-suffering; but there are -virtues which would become vices in us Sicilians, if we should cling to -them. Reason and a sense of justice taught him to be a scourge at need. -But you see that his heart is sound at bottom. He is very angry with -your mother, you told me, and you dreaded his vengeance. You see that he -absolves her from the crime which certainly never occurred to that -saint-like woman's mind; you see that he does homage to truth, even in -the heat of his anger; you see, too, that instead of cursing you he -exhorts you to make common cause with him when occasion requires. No, -no, Carmelo is no dastard!" - -Michel was of the monk's opinion, but he held his peace; it would -require a mighty effort on his part to fraternize with the gloomy mind -of that civilized savage whom men called the Piccinino. He readily -detected the monk's secret predilection for the brigand. In Fra Angelo's -eyes the bastard rather than the prince was the _Destatore's_ son and -the heir of his strong nature. But Michel was too heavily burdened by -the emotions--by turns delicious and painful--which he had experienced -within a few hours, to maintain a conversation on any subject, and, even -if he considered that the Capuchin was too revengeful and inclined to be -too pitiless in his opinions, he did not feel that he had the right to -contradict or even to pass judgment upon a man to whom he was indebted -for the legitimizing of his birth, the saving of his life, and the joy -of knowing his mother. - -They saw in the distance the cardinal's villa all draped in black. - -"You too, Michel, will be obliged to wear mourning," said Fra Angelo. -"Carmelo is more fortunate than you at this moment, in not belonging to -society. If he were the Princess of Palmarosa's son, he would have to -wear the false livery of grief--mourning for his father's murderer." - -"For love of my mother, my dear uncle," replied the prince, "do not -force upon my notice the unpleasant side of my position. At present I -can think of nothing except that I am the son of the noblest and -loveliest and best of women." - -"That is well, my child, that is well. Forgive me," continued the monk. -"My mind is always in the past; it is always busy with the memory of my -poor murdered captain. Why did I leave him? Why had I turned monk? Ah! I -was a coward too. If I had remained faithful to him in his ill-fortune, -and patient with his vagaries, he never would have fallen into a -wretched ambuscade, and perhaps he would be alive still! He would be -proud and happy to have two sons, both brave and handsome! Ah! -_Destatore_, _Destatore_! here am I weeping for you more bitterly than -at first. To learn that you died by another hand than your own is like -losing you again." - -And the monk, but a moment before so pitiless and unfeeling as he -trampled upon the blood of the traitor, began to weep like a child. The -old soldier, faithful beyond the grave, reappeared in him, and he -embraced Michel, saying: "Comfort me; let me hope that we shall avenge -him!" - -"Let us hope for Sicily!" replied Michel. "We have something better to -do than perpetuate family quarrels; we have our country to serve! Ah! -our country! That is a word that you had to explain to me yesterday, my -brave soldier, but to-day I understand it perfectly." - -They exchanged a warm grasp of the hand and entered Villa Palmarosa. - - - - -XLVIII - -THE MARQUIS - - -Master Barbagallo awaited them at the gate with a most anxious -countenance. As soon as he saw Michel, he ran to meet him and kneeled to -kiss his hand. - -"Up, up, sirrah!" said the young prince, disgusted by such servility. -"You have served my mother faithfully. Give me your hand, as befits a -man!" - -They crossed the park together; but Michel did not choose to receive as -yet the homage of all the servants, who were not likely, however, to be -so annoying as the majordomo; for he followed him everywhere, asking his -forgiveness again and again for the scene at the ball, and striving to -convince him that if the proprieties had permitted him to wear his -spectacles on that occasion, his short-sightedness would not have -prevented him from noticing that Michel resembled, feature for feature, -that mighty captain, Giovanni Palmarosa, deceased in 1288, whose -portrait he had delivered to the Marquis della Serra on the preceding -day, in his, Michel's, presence. - -"Ah! how I regret," he said, "that the princess has given the marquis -all the Palmarosas! But your highness will surely recover that noble and -priceless portion of your inheritance. I am certain that his excellency -the marquis will restore to you all the ancestors of both families, by -his will, or even sooner." - -"I think that they do very well where they are," replied Michel, with a -smile. "I am not fond of portraits which have the gift of speech." - -He made his escape from the majordomo's obsession, and walked to the -cliff in order to enter by way of the Casino. But as he stepped into his -mother's boudoir, he found that Barbagallo was puffing at his heels, -having followed him up the staircase. - -"Forgive me, your highness," he said, gasping for breath, "her highness -the princess is in the large gallery, among her kinsmen, friends and -retainers, to whom she has just publicly announced her marriage to the -most noble and illustrious prince your father. They are waiting now for -the excellent Fra Angelo, to whom a messenger was sent two hours ago, to -request him to bring from the convent the authentic proofs of the -marriage, which will establish your right of succession to the -inheritance of his eminence, the most high, most powerful and most -excellent prince cardinal." - -"I have the documents," said the monk; "have you said all that you have -to say, most high, most powerful and most excellent Master Barbagallo?" - -"I will also say to his highness," rejoined the steward, in nowise -disconcerted, "that he too is awaited impatiently--but--" - -"But what? Do not stand in my way any longer with your suppliant air, -Master Barbagallo. If my mother is waiting for me, let me hurry to her; -if you have any personal request to make, I will listen to you at some -other time, and I promise you beforehand whatever you ask." - -"O, my noble master, yes!" cried Barbagallo, standing in the doorway, -with a heroic air, and handing Michel a gala coat cut in the antique -style, while a servant, notified by a stroke of the bell, brought a pair -of satin breeches stitched with gold, silk stockings with red clocks and -a sword. "Yes, yes, I have a personal request which I venture to present -to you. You cannot appear before the family council which awaits your -presence in that fustian jacket and that coarse shirt. It is impossible -for a Palmarosa, a Castro-Reale I mean, to meet his cousins-german for -the first time in the costume of a mechanic. They know the nobly borne -misfortunes of your youth, and with what great courage you have accepted -an ignoble place in society. But that is no reason why they should see -its livery on your highness's body. I will kneel at your feet to beg you -to wear the costume of state which your grandfather, Prince Donigi de -Palmarosa, wore on the occasion of his first presentation at the court -of Naples." - -The first part of this harangue triumphed over Michel's irritation. He -and the monk could not refrain from laughing uproariously; but the last -words put an end to their merriment and darkened their brows. - -"I am quite sure," said Michel, shortly, "that my mother did not bid you -offer me this absurd disguise, and that it would afford her no pleasure -to see me arrayed in that livery! I much prefer the one which I now wear -and which I shall wear the rest of the day, by your leave, Master -majordomo." - -"I beg your highness not to be angry with me," rejoined Barbagallo, in -dire confusion, motioning to the servant to remove the costume at once. -"Perhaps I acted unwisely, taking counsel of my own zeal; but if--" - -"But nothing! leave me," said Michel, opening the door impatiently; and -leaning on Fra Angelo's arm, he descended the inner staircase from the -Casino and resolutely entered the great gallery in his artisan's -costume. - -The princess, dressed in black, was sitting on a sofa at the end of the -gallery, surrounded by the Marquis della Serra, Doctor Recuperati, -Pier-Angelo, several tried friends of both sexes, and several kinsmen; -the faces of the latter wearing a more or less resentful or dismayed -expression, despite their efforts to appear touched and fascinated by -the romance of her life which she had just told them. Mila was sitting -on a cushion at her feet, lovely as ever, with glistening eyes, and pale -with surprise and emotion. Other groups were scattered about the -gallery. They were the less intimate friends, the more distant -relations, and the lawyers whom Agatha had summoned to declare the -validity of her marriage and the legitimacy of her son. Still farther -away the servants of the house, on active service or retired on -pensions, some privileged workmen, the Magnani family among the rest, -and lastly, the cream of those _clients_ with whom Sicilian nobles have -intimate relations unknown in France, which recall the ancient customs -of the Roman patriciate. - -It will readily be believed that Agatha had not felt called upon to -state the cruel reasons which had led her to marry the too famous Prince -of Castro-Reale, that gallant and redoubtable brigand, so depraved and -yet at times so ingenuous, a sort of converted Don Juan concerning whom -more tales were current, tales of crime and of love, fabulous and -improbable, than could possibly be true of any one man. To the public -avowal of an act of violence which was most offensive to her modesty and -her pride, she preferred the implied confession of a passion, romantic -beyond reason on her part, but unconstrained and legitimate. To the -Marquis della Serra alone had she confided her real story; he alone knew -of Agatha's unhappy youth, the cruelty of her parents, the probable -murder of the _Destatore_, and the plots against the life of her son -while he was in his cradle. The princess allowed the others to infer -that her family had not approved of that clandestine marriage, and that -her son had necessarily been brought up secretly, to avoid the risk of -being disinherited by his mother's relations. Her narrative was brief, -simple and concise, and she had borne herself in the telling with a -self-assured and tranquil dignity which she owed to the force of her -maternal affection. Before she was aware of her son's existence, she -would have killed herself rather than allow the tenth part of her secret -to be suspected; but, with the determination that her son should be -recognized and welcomed, she would have revealed everything if a -complete disclosure had been necessary. - -She had finished speaking a quarter of an hour before Michel entered. -She had looked calmly into the faces of her audience. She knew what to -think of the artless emotion of some, of the masked malevolence of -others. She knew that she should have the courage to face all the -exaggerations, all the sneers, all the malicious remarks to which her -declaration would give rise in the outside world, and especially in -aristocratic society. She was ready for everything, and felt strong and -brave, supported by her son's arm--that woman who had steadfastly -refused to accept the protection of a husband or the consolations of a -lover. Some of those present, whether maliciously or from stupidity, had -tried to induce her to add some details, some further particulars, to -her declaration. She had replied gently but firmly: - -"Not before so many witnesses, and on a day of mourning and solemnity, -can I undertake to entertain or interest you by telling a love-story. -Besides, it is all a long way off. I was very young then, and after -twenty years have passed since those exciting days, I should find it -hard to speak of them from a standpoint which would enable you to -understand the choice I thought fit to make. I will allow you to -consider it an extraordinary act, but I will not allow anyone to speak -reproachfully of it in my presence; for that would be an insult to the -man whose name I accepted, to hand it down to my son." - -There was much eager whispering among the groups scattered through that -vast apartment. Only the group at the extreme end, consisting of honest -workmen and faithful servants, was grave and calm, and secretly touched. -Magnani's father and mother came forward weeping, and kissed Agatha's -hand. Mila, in the midst of her transports of amazement and joy, was a -little depressed in the depths of her heart. She said to herself that -Magnani should be there; but she could not see him, although she looked -everywhere. However, she forgot him when Michel appeared, and she rose -to rush to him through the groups, malevolent or thunderstruck, which -opened to give passage to the artisan prince and his woolen blouse. But -she stopped short, with crimson cheeks and in sore distress: Michel was -no longer her brother; she must not kiss him any more. - -Agatha, who had risen first, turned and beckoned to her, and, taking her -by the hand, walked toward her son with the proud resolution of a queen -and a mother. First she led him to receive publicly the blessing of his -father and his uncle by adoption, then turned him over to the cordial -hand-clasps of her friends and the salutations of her acquaintances. -Michel took pleasure in adopting a cold and haughty bearing with those -who seemed to him cold and haughty; but when he was in the midst of the -more popular portion of the company, he appeared as he felt, overflowing -with sincerity and cordiality. He had no difficulty in winning the -hearts of those good people, and he was greeted as heartily as if they -had been present at his birth, and he had grown to manhood before their -eyes. - -After the production of the certificates of marriage and birth, which, -having been recorded under the former ecclesiastical administration, -were perfectly regular and authentic, Agatha took leave of the family -gathering, and withdrew to her private apartments with Michel, the -Lavoratori family, and the Marquis della Serra. There they tasted the -unalloyed happiness of being together, and recovered from the fatigue -due to the constraint to which they had been subjected. They laughed -over the incident of the grandfather's gala costume, Master Barbagallo's -happy thought. They made merry in anticipation of all the monstrous and -absurd tales concerning the state of affairs in the family, to which the -imaginations of the good people of Catania, Messina, and Palermo would -give birth while the excitement was at its height. - -But the day had not passed before they felt that they would all require -more genuine courage than they had yet been called upon to display. The -news of the murder of Abbé Ninfo, together with a copy of the audacious -inscription, reached the city during the evening, and was speedily -circulated. Persons who were out walking had brought the copy, the -_campieri_ brought the body. As the incident seemed to have a political -color, it was discussed in undertones; but as it had some connection -with the great events of the day, the death of the cardinal and Agatha's -declaration, people talked about it all night, having no desire to -sleep. The greatest and most beautiful city on earth, unless it be one -of the great metropolises of civilization, is always, so far as its -spirit and its ideas are concerned, a petty provincial town, especially -in the south of Europe. - -The police were aroused by the vengeance wreaked upon one of their -agents. Persons in the good graces of the government assumed, in -aristocratic salons, a menacing attitude toward the patriotic nobles. -The Neapolitan faction asserted that the Prince of Castro-Reale had -better look to himself if he wished his father's crimes to be forgotten; -and, ere long, salutary warnings intended for the princess found their -way into her very boudoir. A sincere, but cowardly friend informed her -that the assertion of her innocence in the Piccinino's extraordinary -document, and the appeal therein made to her son to avenge Castro-Reale, -would compromise her very seriously unless she made haste to take some -measures dictated by prudence: as, for instance, to present her son to -the ruling powers, and to manifest her purpose, indirectly but clearly, -to abandon her defunct brigand to the devil, and her bastard stepson's -body to the headsman, to be a true and loyal Palmarosa, like her father -and uncle before her, and to make herself responsible for the proper -political education of the heir of a name so difficult to bear as that -of Castro-Reale was likely to be. - -To these warnings, Agatha replied calmly and judiciously that she never -went into society; that she had been living for nearly twenty years in -undisturbed seclusion, where no conspiracies had ever been formed; that -to take any measures at that moment to obtain the favor of the ruling -powers would be in effect to admit the justice of suspicions which she -did not deserve; that her son was still a child, brought up in an -obscure station and in ignorance of everything outside of the poetry of -art; that she would bear boldly, with him, the name of Castro-Reale, -because it would be cowardly to deny her marriage and his descent, and -that they would not fail to make that name respected, even under the -eyes of the police. As for the Piccinino, she very adroitly pretended -that she had no idea what they meant, and that she did not believe in -the existence of that intangible phantom, a sort of ogre, whose name was -used to frighten the little children and old women of the suburbs. She -was surprised and distressed by the murder of Abbé Ninfo; but as the -will turned up opportunely in Doctor Recuperati's custody, no one could -suspect that she owed the recovery of the document to a secret -arrangement with the brigands of the mountain. The doctor did not even -know that it had been taken from him; for, just as he was about to make -a public declaration that Ninfo had stolen it, Agatha had interrupted -him, saying: - -"Be careful, doctor, you are very absent-minded, you know; don't accuse -anyone hastily. You showed me the will two days ago; may you not have -left it in my chamber, under a piece of mosaic?" - -An official visit to the place indicated had resulted in finding the -will there intact. The doctor, astounded at his carelessness, had -believed in it with the others. - -Agatha had suffered so much, the secrets she had had to keep had been so -painful, that she had become very skilful in feigning, when it was -necessary to take that trouble. Michel and the marquis admired the -presence of mind which she displayed throughout the whole affair in -extricating herself from an alarming position. But Fra Angelo became -very sad, and Michel sought his couch much less light-hearted in his -palace than he had been in his garret. The necessary precautions, the -constant dissimulation to which he must resort, revealed the anxieties -and perils of grandeur. The Capuchin feared that he would be corrupted -in spite of himself. Michel was not afraid of being corrupted, but he -felt that he must keep a close watch upon himself, and make himself -small in order to preserve his peace of mind and domestic happiness, or -else enter upon a struggle which would end only with his fortune or his -life. - -He resigned himself to his fate. He determined that he would be prudent -for his mother's sake until the time should come to be reckless for the -sake of his country. But the period of excitement and untroubled -happiness had already passed; duty was beginning: novels which are not -cut short in the midst of the catastrophe become depressing on the last -pages, that is to say, if they have the slightest semblance of -probability. - -Certain persons of taste and vivid imagination insist that a novel -should not have any end; that the reader should end it to suit himself. -Certain others, persons of judgment and method, desire to see all the -threads of the plot straightened out, and all the characters happily -established for the rest of their lives, or else killed off, so that -they need think no more about them. I agree with the former class, and I -think that I might well have left the reader at the foot of the -_Destatore's_ cross, reading the inscription which the _justicier -d'aventure_ had written there. He could readily have imagined without my -assistance the chapter which he has just read--and read with languid -interest, I warrant--saying to himself: "I was sure of it; I expected -it; that goes without saying." - -But I was afraid that I might have to deal with a reader of delicate -sensibilities, who would have been made ill by being left in the -classico-romantic company of a corpse and a vulture. - -Why are all _dénouements_ more or less lame and unsatisfactory? The -reason is simple enough: it is because in real life there never is a -_dénouement_; that the novel goes on forever, melancholy or placid, -poetic or commonplace, and that the purely conventional can never wear -the truthful aspect which arouses interest. - -But since, against my inclination, I have determined to elucidate -everything, I realize that I have left Magnani on the seashore, Mila -anxious, the Piccinino in flight, and the Marquis della Serra at the -princess's feet. As for the last-named, he had been in that position for -nearly twelve years, and a day more or less was of little consequence to -him; but as soon as he learned Agatha's secret, and saw her son in -possession of all his rights and all his good fortune, he changed his -attitude, and, drawing himself up to the full height of his loyal and -chivalrous nature, he said in Michel's presence: - -"Signora, I love you as I have always loved you. I esteem you the more -because of the pride and loyalty you have hitherto displayed in refusing -to contract, under the title of virgin, a marriage in which you would -have had to bear in secret the titles of widow and mother. But if you -think that, because you were subjected to outrage long ago, you are -degraded in my eyes, you do not know my heart. If, because you bear a -strange name, a name that arouses horror because of the memories -connected with it, you believe that I would shrink from replacing it -with mine, you put an affront upon my devotion to you. These, on the -contrary, are reasons which make me desire more eagerly than ever to be -your friend, your support, your protector and your husband. At the -present moment your first marriage is a subject of ridicule. Give me -your hand, and no one will dare to ridicule the second. People call you -the brigand's wife; be the wife of the most reasonable and sedate of -patricians, so that people may know that, if you can inflame the -imagination of a wild and wayward man, you can rule the heart of a man -of calm and peaceful life. Your son sorely needs a father, signora. He -will soon be involved in more than one difficult and perilous crisis of -the hazardous existence which a hostile race forces upon us. Be assured -that I already love him as if he were my own son, and that my life and -my fortune are his. But that is not enough; it is necessary that the -sanction of a marriage between you and me should put an end to the -equivocal position in which we stand toward each other. If I am supposed -to be his mother's lover, can he love or esteem me? Would it not be -absurd--aye cowardly--in him to seem to endure it without shame or -impatience? So that I must avoid you now, if you refuse to be united to -me. You will lose your best friend, and so will Michel! As for myself, -I say nothing of the grief I should feel, for I know of no words to -describe it; but my happiness is not the question, and it is not from -selfishness that I implore you thus. No, I know that you do not know -what love is, and that the thought of passion terrifies you. I know what -a deep wound your heart has received, and how repugnant to you are the -thoughts which kindle the imagination of those who know you. Very well! -I will be your brother--nothing more. I promise upon my honor, if you -demand it. Michel shall be your only child as well as your only love. -But the law and public morality will permit me to be his best friend, -his guide, and the defender of his mother's honor and fair fame." - -The marquis delivered this long speech in a calm tone, the expression of -his face corresponding to his manner. But a tear trembled on his eyelid, -and he did wrong to try to hold it back, for it was more eloquent than -his words. - -The princess blushed; it was the first time that the marquis had ever -seen her blush, and he was so agitated that he lost all the -self-possession with which he had armed himself. That blush which made -her a true woman for the first time, at thirty-two years of age, was -like a sunbeam on the snow, and Michel's artistic sensibilities were so -keen that he realized at once that she had kept another secret in the -depths of her heart, or else that her heart, revived by joy and a sense -of security, was ripe for love. And what man was more worthy of her than -the Marquis della Serra? - -The young prince knelt at her feet. - -"O mother," he said, "you are only twenty years old! See, look at -yourself," he added, offering her a hand mirror which her maid had left -on the table. "You are so beautiful and so young, and you propose to -renounce love! Is it for my sake? Shall I be the happier because your -life is less complete and less happy? Shall I respect you less because I -see that you are more profoundly respected and more effectively -protected? Are you afraid that I am jealous, as Mila accused me of -being? No, I shall not be jealous unless I find that he loves you better -than I do, and I defy him to do that! Dear marquis, we will love her -dearly, will we not, and make her forget the past; we will make her -happy, who has never been happy, and who, alone of all human beings, -deserves absolute happiness! Say yes, mother; I will not stand up until -you have said yes!" - -"I have already reflected," said Agatha, blushing afresh. "I think that -I must do it for your sake, and for the dignity of us all." - -"Do not say so," cried Michel, throwing his arms about her; "say that it -is for your happiness, if you wish us two to be happy!" - -Agatha held out her hand to the marquis and hid her son's face against -her breast. She was ashamed to have him see her fiancé's joy. She had -retained the modesty of a girl; and from that day, she was so fresh and -so lovely that the evil tongues, who insist upon detecting falsehood and -crime everywhere, declared that Michel was not her son, but a lover -installed in her house under that profaned title. However, all calumny -and ridicule vanished before the announcement of her marriage to Signor -della Serra, which was to take place at the end of her mourning. There -was an occasional sneer at the marquis's Quixotic love, but he was -envied much more than he was pitied. - - - - -XLIX - -DANGER - - -This announcement made a profound impression on Magnani. It put the -finishing touch to his cure and his depression of spirit. His -impressionable heart could not do without an all-absorbing, exclusive -love; but he had apparently been deceived when he persuaded himself that -he had never really hoped; for when hope had become impossible, he was -no longer beset by the phantom of Agatha. It was Mila's phantom which -engrossed his meditations and his sleepless nights. But this last -passion began in the midst of a torture more intense than all the -previous ones. Agatha had appeared to him as an ideal creature whom he -could never reach. Mila appeared to him under the same aspect, but with -the additional certainty that she had a lover. - -Thereupon, in that little circle of relations and friends, there ensued -a succession of petty anxieties, exceedingly delicate in their nature, -which eventually became very painful to Mila and Magnani. Pier-Angelo, -seeing that his daughter was depressed, and being unable to understand -it, was inclined to have a friendly explanation with Magnani, and lead -him on to ask openly for Mila's hand. Fra Angelo did not agree with him -and restrained him. This question being taken before the princess's -kindly tribunal for decision led to explanations concerning the -excursion to Nicolosi which were perfectly satisfactory to the father -and the uncle, but which might well leave some suspicion in the lover's -proud and uncompromising heart. Fra Angelo, who was responsible for the -trouble, undertook to repair it. He went to the young man, and without -disclosing Mila's sublime imprudence, told him that she was absolutely -justified in his mind, and that he had discovered that the purpose of -that mysterious excursion was to do a noble and courageous act. - -Magnani asked no question. Had he done so, the monk, who was incapable -of paltering with the truth, would have told him everything; but -Magnani's loyal heart closed itself to suspicion as soon as Fra Angelo -had given his word. He believed at last in the possibility of happiness -and went to Pier-Angelo to seek confirmation of his belief. - -But it was written that Magnani should not be happy. On the day when he -appeared to make his declaration and urge his suit, Mila, instead of -remaining during their interview, left her father's workshop angrily and -shut herself up in her own room. She was offended in the sanctuary of -her pride by Magnani's four or five days of depression and irresolution. -She had expected an easier and speedier triumph. She blushed at the -thought that she had pursued him so long. - -Moreover, she was aware of all that had happened during those days of -misery. She knew that Michel was not in favor of their giving Magnani so -much encouragement to declare himself. Michel alone had known his -friend's secret, and he was alarmed for his adopted sister's sake by -such a sudden reaction in her favor, which might well be an act of -desperation. Mila concluded that Michel was aware that Magnani persisted -in loving another woman, although the young artisan had refused to take -back the princess's ring, and had begged Mila to keep it as a pledge of -his esteem and respect. On that same evening, the evening that he had -escorted her home from the Della Serra palace while Michel remained -behind with his mother, Magnani, intoxicated by her beauty, her wit and -her social success, had spoken to her so warmly that what he said was -almost a declaration of love. Mila had had the strength of will to -refrain from encouraging him openly. But she had believed that she had -triumphed, and on the next day, the day of Agatha's declaration, she had -expected to see him at her feet and to tell him at last that she loved -him. - -But he had not appeared at all on that day, and on the days immediately -following he had not addressed a single word to her; he had confined -himself to bowing to her with frigid respect when he had not been able -to avoid her eye. Mila, mortally wounded and distressed, had refused to -tell her father the truth, when that worthy man, disturbed by her -pallor, asked her almost on his knees. She had persisted in denying that -she loved their young neighbor. Pier-Angelo, simple and straightforward -creature that he was, could find nothing better to say to her than: - -"Cheer up, my child, we know very well that you love each other; but he -has been uneasy and jealous on account of the Nicolosi affair; when you -condescend to justify yourself in his eyes, he will fall at your feet. -You will see him there to-morrow, I am sure of it." - -"Oho! Master Magnani presumes to be jealous and to suspect me!" rejoined -Mila, hotly. "He has loved me only a day or two, he doesn't know whether -I love him, and when a suspicion comes into his head, instead of humbly -telling me of it and doing his best to supplant the rival who worries -him, he assumes the air of a betrayed husband, gives up all idea of -making himself agreeable to me and persuading me, and, I suppose, will -consider that he confers great honor and great pleasure on me when he -comes and tells me that he deigns to forgive me! Well, for my part, I do -not forgive him. That's what you may say to him from me, father." - -The child persisted so in her irritation that Pier-Angelo was forced to -take Magnani to her chamber door, where she let him knock a long while, -and which she opened at last, saying pettishly that he seemed determined -to interrupt her siesta. - -"You may be perfectly sure," said Pier-Angelo to Magnani, "that the sly -minx was not asleep, for she only left my workshop just as you came in. -Come, children, put aside all these pretty quarrels. Shake hands, since -you love each other; and I give you permission to kiss. No! Mila is -proud like her poor mother. Ah! friend Antonio, you will be led by the -nose as I was, and you will be none the less happy for it, I tell you! -Come, kneel and ask her pardon. Signora Mila, must your father kneel -too?" - -"Father," replied Mila, flushing with pleasure, pride and vexation, all -at once, "listen to me, instead of laughing at me, for I must keep my -dignity intact! A woman has nothing more precious than her dignity, and -no man, not even a father, ever understands what justification we have -for being sensitive. I do not choose to be loved by halves, I do not -choose to serve as a makeshift and a balm for a partly healed passion. I -know that Master Magnani has long been in love with a beautiful unknown, -and I am afraid that he is still, a little. Very good! I want him to -take time enough to forget her and to give me time to find out whether I -love him. This is all too new and strange to be accepted so hurriedly. I -know that, when I have given my word, I shall not retract it, even if I -regret having done it. I will judge of Magnani's affection," she said, -with a reproachful glance at him, "by his evenness of temper with me and -the zealousness of his attentions. He has something to set right, and I -something to forgive." - -"I accept the test," said Magnani, "but not as a punishment; I do not -consider that I have been blameworthy in giving way to sorrow and -depression. I did not believe that you loved me, and I knew well that I -had no right to expect it. I still think that you do not, and if I -venture to hope a little, it is in fear and trembling." - -"Ah! what fine words, just to say nothing!" cried Pier-Angelo. "In my -day we were less eloquent and more sincere. We said: 'Do you love -me?'--'Yes, and you?'--'Like a madman.'--'So do I, until death.'--That -was better than these long dialogues of yours, which seem like a game, -and a game in which you try to annoy and worry each other. But perhaps I -am in the way. I will go; when you are alone, you will understand each -other better." - -"No, father," said Mila, afraid that she should allow herself to be -moved and persuaded too quickly, "even if he had enough love and spirit -to-day to make me listen to him, I know that I should be sorry to-morrow -that I had been so trustful. Besides, I know that you haven't told him -everything. I know that he has taken it upon himself to be jealous, -because I took a certain erratic walk on the mountain; but I know also -that my uncle, when he assured him that I had committed no sin, which he -was kind enough to believe, thought it best to say nothing as to the -purpose of that walk. But for my own part, I am ashamed, and blush for -that circumspection, which apparently was supposed to be necessary to -his peace of mind, and I propose to tell him the whole truth." - -"As you please, my child," replied Pier-Angelo. "I am inclined to agree -with you that you should keep back no part of what you think you ought -to tell. So speak as you think best. But you must remember that it is -somebody else's secret whom you promised never to name." - -"I can safely name him, as his name is in every mouth, especially in -these last few days, and, if there is any danger in saying that one -knows him, it is only for those who make that boast; however, it is not -my purpose to reveal what I know about him; I may therefore tell Master -Magnani that I voluntarily passed two hours tête-à-tête with the -Piccinino, without telling him where or for what purpose." - -"I believe that the fever for making declarations is attacking all -women," laughed Pier-Angelo; "since Princess Agatha made the one which -has caused so much talk, they all seem determined to confess in public." - -Pier-Angelo spoke more truly than he supposed. The example of courage is -contagious among women, and the romantically inclined Mila admired -Princess Agatha so passionately that she regretted that she had not a -secret marriage with the Piccinino to proclaim at that moment, provided -always that she had become a widow and could marry Magnani. - -But her rash avowal produced an entirely different effect from that -which she expected. There was no trace of anxiety on Magnani's face, and -she could not rejoice inwardly at having aroused and awakened his love -by a flash of jealousy. He became even more melancholy and gentle than -usual, kissed Mila's hand, and said to her: - -"Your frankness denotes a noble heart, Mila, but there is a little pride -mixed with it. Doubtless you intended to put me to a harsh test by -telling me something that would alarm any other man than myself to the -last degree. But I know your father and your uncle too well to fear that -they deceived me when they said that you went into the mountain to do a -good deed. So do not try to puzzle me; that would be cruel on your part, -because you could have no other object than to make me unhappy. Tell me -everything or tell me nothing. I have no right to demand disclosures -which would compromise anyone, but I have the right to ask you not to -play with me by trying to shake my confidence in you." - -Pier-Angelo declared that on this occasion Magnani talked _like a book_, -and that no one could possibly make a more straightforward, generous and -sensible reply on such a delicate subject. - -But what had taken place in little Mila's heart within a few days? It -may be that one should never play with fire, however worthy the motive -of one's action, and that she really did wrong to go to Nicolosi. -However that may be, Magnani's reply did not please her as much as it -did her father, and she felt chilled and piqued by the sort of paternal -lecture which her lover had given her. - -"Sermons already!" she said, rising, as a hint to Magnani that she -proposed to go no farther with him that day; "and sermons to me, whom -you pretend to love with so little hope and courage? It seems to me, -neighbor, on the other hand, that you expect to find me very tractable -and submissive. Well, I am afraid that you are mistaken. I am a child, -and I ought to know it, for I am told so from morning till night; but I -know very well that when one is really in love, he sees no -fault--nothing wrong--in the conduct of the loved one. Everything she -does is charming, or at all events sincere. He doesn't call her loyalty -haughtiness, and her pride childish teasing. You see, Magnani, that it -is a pity to see too clearly in love. There is a song that says that -_Cupid is a blind bambino_. Father knows it; he will sing it to you. -Meanwhile, understand that clairvoyance is contagious, and that he who -removes the bandage from his eyes discloses his own faults to others at -the same time. You have discovered that I am a little overbearing, and -you think doubtless that I am a flirt. For my part, that shows me that -you are very proud, and I am afraid that you are a bit of a pedant." - -The Angelos hoped that the cloud would pass over, and that, after giving -vent to her vexation, Mila would be all the more loving and Magnani all -the happier. Indeed, they had interviews and battles of words and -sentiments, in which they were so near coming to terms, that their -sudden falling-out again a moment later, Magnani's depression and Mila's -excitement, seemed inexplicable. Magnani was terrified sometimes to find -so much spirit and will-power in a woman. Mila was afraid of so much -gravity and unwavering common sense in a man. It seemed to her that -Magnani was incapable of feeling a great passion, and she wished to -inspire one, because she felt in a mood to plunge into it violently on -her own account. He always spoke and thought like virtue personified, -and it was with an imperceptible touch of irony that Mila called him the -_just man par excellence_. - -She was very coquettish with him, and Magnani, instead of taking -pleasure in her ingenious and strenuous efforts to please him, was -afraid that she was a little coquettish with all men. Ah! if he had seen -her in the Piccinino's boudoir, holding in check and subduing by her -exquisite chastity, by her virile simplicity, so to speak, the young -brigand's crafty inclinations and evil thoughts, Magnani would have -realized that Mila was no coquette, since she was coquettish with him -alone. - -But the unfortunate man was not familiar with women; and, because he had -loved so long in silence and sorrow, he had no conception of the -delicate and mysterious problems of requited love. He was over-modest. -He took Mila's cruel pleasantness too seriously, and scolded her for -being so unkind to him when he ought to have thanked her on his knees. - -Moreover, to tell the whole truth, that Nicolosi affair was stamped with -the seal of fatality, like everything else that was connected, though it -were by the tiniest thread, with the Piccinino's mysterious existence. -Without touching upon the details which demanded secrecy, they had told -Magnani everything that could set his mind at rest concerning that -adventure of Mila's. Fra Angelo, always loyal to his secret predilection -for the bandit, had vouched for his chivalrous and honorable conduct -under such circumstances. The princess, loving Mila with a maternal -love, had spoken with heartfelt eloquence of the girl's devotion and -courage. Pier-Angelo had arranged everything for the best, in his happy -and unsuspecting brain. Michel alone had shuddered upon learning of the -episode, and he thanked Providence for performing a miracle in behalf of -his charming and noble-hearted sister. - -But despite his grandeur of soul, Magnani had been unable to look upon -Mila's performance as the result of a worthy impulse; and, although he -never mentioned the subject, he suffered intensely, as may be imagined. - -As for Mila, the consequences of her adventure were more serious, -although she did not suspect it as yet. That romantic chapter in her -life had left an ineffaceable impression on her brain. After trembling -and weeping bitterly when she learned that she had recklessly -surrendered herself as a hostage to the redoubtable Piccinino, she had -made the best of her mistake, and had secretly become reconciled to the -thought of that alarming personage, who had bequeathed to her, instead -of shame, remorse and despair, naught but poetic memories, increased -esteem for herself, and a bouquet of spotless flowers, which an -undefinable instinct had led her to preserve carefully among her -sentimental relics, after drying them with the greatest care. - -Mila was no coquette; we have proved it by telling how coquettish she -was with the man whom she looked upon as her fiancé. Nor was she -fickle; she would have been faithful to him until death, with a fidelity -proof against every trial. But there are mysteries in a woman's heart, -deeper and more incomprehensible in proportion to the woman's mental -endowment and the exquisite charm of her nature. Moreover, there is -something sweet and glorious to a young girl in the thought that she has -succeeded in taming a terrible lion and has come forth safe and sound -from a perilous adventure, solely by the power of her charm, her -innocence and her courage. Mila realized now how brave and adroit she -had been, quite unconsciously, in that great danger, and the man who had -submitted so completely to the influence of her merit could not seem to -her a contemptible or ordinary man. - -Thus a feeling of romantic gratitude enchained her to the memory of -Captain Piccinino, and, despite all the evil people might say of him, it -would have been impossible to shake her confidence in him. She had taken -him for a prince; was he not a prince's son and Michel's brother? She -had taken him for a hero, for the future liberator of his country; might -he not become so, had he not that ambition? His soft speech, his -charming manners had fascinated her; and why not? Had she not an even -more intense infatuation for Princess Agatha, and was the one less -legitimate and less pure than the other? - -All this did not prevent Mila from loving Magnani so fervently that she -was always on the point of confessing her love in spite of herself; but -a week had passed since their first quarrel, and the modest and timid -Magnani had not as yet succeeded in extorting that confession. - -He would have obtained that victory a little later doubtless, perhaps on -the very next day; but an unforeseen event brought confusion into Mila's -existence and gravely compromised the welfare of all the characters of -this narrative. - -One evening, as Michel was walking with his mother and the marquis in -the garden of the villa, engaged all three in forming projects of mutual -devotion and dreaming dreams of happiness, Fra Angelo joined them, and -Michel concluded, from his strange expression and his excited manner, -that he wished to speak to him in secret. They walked away from the -others, as if by chance, and the Capuchin, taking from his breast a -soiled and crumpled paper, handed it to Michel. It contained only these -few words: "I am wounded and a prisoner; help, brother! Malacarne will -tell you the rest. In twenty-four hours it will be too late." - -Michel recognized the Piccinino's fine, nervous handwriting. The note -was written in blood. - -"I know all that has to be done," said the monk. "I received the letter -six hours ago. Everything is ready. I came to say good-bye to you, for -it may well be that I shall never return." - -He paused, as if afraid to say something that was in his mind. - -"I understand you, uncle; you relied upon my help," said Michel; "I am -ready. Let me embrace my mother." "If you do that, she will see that you -are going away and will detain you." - -"No, but she will be anxious. I will not say good-bye to her: let us go. -On the way we will think up some excuse for my absence, and send her a -messenger." - -"That would be very dangerous for her and for us. Leave it to me; it -means five minutes delay, but it can't be helped." - -He went back to the princess and said to her in the marquis's presence: - -"Carmelo is in hiding in our convent; his sentiments toward your -highness and Michel are all that can be desired. He desires to make his -peace with him before starting on a long journey necessitated by the -Ninfo affair and the suspicious and rigorous measures of the police -since it happened. He also has certain favors to ask at his brother's -hands. Permit us to go away together therefore, and if we are watched, -which is quite possible, I will keep Michel at the convent until he can -safely return. Rely upon the prudence of a man who is well used to -affairs of this sort. It may be that Michel will pass the night at the -convent, and even if he should stay longer do not be alarmed, and above -all things do not send for him; do not send us any message which might -be intercepted and lead to the discovery that we are giving shelter and -protection to the outlaw. I beg your highness to forgive me for being -unable to say anything further to reassure you. Time presses!" - -Although greatly alarmed, Agatha concealed her emotion, kissed Michel, -and walked with them to the gate of the park; there she paused. - -"You have no money with you," she said; "Carmelo may need some for his -journey. I will go and fetch some." - -"Women think of everything," said Fra Angelo; "I had forgotten the most -essential thing of all." - -Agatha returned with some gold and a blank draft bearing her signature, -which Michel could fill up as he chose for his brother's use. Magnani -had just arrived. He divined from the princess's agitation and the -leave-taking between her and Michel, accompanied by encouraging words -from the latter, that there was some real danger which they were -concealing from that loving mother. - -"Should I be in your way if I accompanied you?" he asked the monk. - -"On the contrary," was the reply, "you may be of the greatest service to -us. Come!" - -Agatha thanked Magnani with one of those glances laden with maternal -love, which are more eloquent than any words. - -The marquis would have joined them, but Michel objected. - -"We are dreaming of imaginary dangers," he said with a laugh; "but if I -were in any danger, my mother would be also. Your place is with her, my -friend. I entrust to you what I hold dearest on earth! Is not this -rather a solemn leave-taking for a walk to Bel Passo by moonlight?" - - - - -L - -A NOCTURNAL JOURNEY - - -When they were a hundred yards from the park, Michel, who was ready to -risk his own life, but not that of Mila's betrothed, in an affair in -which he had no concern and no duty to his conscience or his family to -fulfil, begged the young artisan to return to Catania. Fra Angelo -thought differently. Fanatical in his friendships as in his patriotism, -he looked upon Magnani as a providential ally. He was one stout and -fearless champion more, and their party was so small! Magnani alone was -worth three men; Heaven had sent him to their assistance, and they must -make the most of his zeal and his devotion to the good cause. - -As they walked rapidly along they maintained a hot discussion. Michel -rebuked the monk for his pitiless proselytism under such circumstances; -the monk rebuked Michel for rejecting the means while seeking the end. -Magnani put an end to the dispute by his invincible determination. - -"I understood perfectly well at the outset," he said, "that Michel was -engaging in some affair of more serious importance than he chose to -admit to his mother. I made up my mind at once. Some time ago I made -Princess Agatha a sacred promise: that I would never leave her son to -face alone any peril which I could share with him. I am keeping my -promise, and whether Michel is willing or not, I shall follow him -wherever he goes. I know of no other way to prevent me than to blow out -my brains here. Choose whether you will put up with my company or kill -me, Michel." - -"All right! all right!" said the monk; "but stop talking, my sons. This -is a thickly settled spot, and we mustn't talk as we pass the houses. -Besides, we can't walk so fast when we are quarrelling. Ah! Magnani, you -are a man!" - -Magnani marched to meet danger with cold and melancholy courage. He did -not feel perfectly happy in love; a craving for violent emotions drove -him forward at random toward some extreme goal which appeared to him -vaguely as an entire transformation of his present existence and a -definitive rupture with the hesitations and languor of his heart. - -Michel was determined rather than calm. He knew that he was being led by -a fanatic to the succor of a man who was probably no less dangerous than -useful to the good cause. He knew that he himself was staking a happier -and broader existence than that of his companions; but he did not -hesitate to play a manly part under the circumstances. The Piccinino was -his brother, and although the sympathy he felt for him was blended with -suspicion and sadness, he understood his duty. Perhaps too he had become -enough of a _prince_ to be unable to endure the thought that his -father's son might die at the end of a rope, with a sentence of -degradation nailed to his gallows. Still, his heart was sore when he -thought of his mother's grief if he should fall in such a reckless -undertaking; but he resolutely closed his heart to all human weakness, -and walked like the wind, as if he had hoped to wipe out, by forgetting -it, the distance that he made haste to put between Agatha and himself. - -The convent was not under suspicion or surveillance, as the Piccinino -was not there, and the police of the Val were well aware that he had -crossed the Garreta and gone into hiding in the interior of the island. -Fra Angelo had invented danger near at hand to prevent the princess from -suspecting the existence of distant but more real dangers. He led his -young companions into his cell and assisted them to disguise themselves -as monks. They divided the money, the sinews of war, as Fra Angelo said, -in order that no one of them might be impeded by the weight of all the -coin. They concealed beneath their frocks weapons, powder and ball. -Their disguise and their outfitting consumed some time; and Fra Angelo, -whose former experience of dangerous undertakings had taught him the -evils of precipitation, examined everything with great care and perfect -self-possession. In truth their freedom of action depended entirely upon -their external aspect. The Capuchin trimmed Magnani's beard, colored -Michel's eyebrows and hands, changed the tint of their cheeks and their -lips by processes learned in his former profession, and with pigments so -prepared as to withstand the action of rain, perspiration, and the -compulsory baths to which the police resort in vain attempts to identify -their prisoners. - -So far as he himself was concerned, the Capuchin took no pains to -deceive the eye as to his identity. It mattered little to him whether he -was captured and hanged, provided that he had first saved his former -captain's son. And since, in order to succeed in their undertaking, it -was necessary to travel in the guise of peaceably disposed persons, -nothing could be better suited to the rôle he had assigned to himself -than his genuine features and costume. - -When the two young men were all equipped, they gazed at each other in -amazement. They were hardly recognizable, and they realized how the -Piccinino, who was much more expert than Fra Angelo in the art of -disguise, had been able thus far to conceal his real identity throughout -his adventurous life. - -And when they found themselves astride two tall mules, gaunt but -willing, of wretched aspect, but of unlimited strength and endurance, -they admired the monk's genius and complimented him upon it. - -"I have not done all these things so rapidly without assistance," he -replied, modestly; "I have been energetically and skilfully seconded, -for we are not alone in our expedition. We shall meet pilgrims of divers -sorts on the road we are about to take. Salute most courteously, my -sons, all those persons who salute you; but be careful not to speak a -word to anybody until you have looked at me. If any unforeseen accident -should separate us, you will find other guides and other companions. The -countersign is: _Friends, isn't this the road to Tre-Castagne_? I need -not tell you that it is the road that leads in the opposite direction, -and that nobody but one of your confederates would ask you such an -absurd question. You will answer, however, as a matter of prudence, and -in a jesting tone: _All roads lead to Rome_. And you will not place -absolute confidence in your interlocutor until he has answered: _By the -grace of God the Father_. Don't forget; don't fall asleep on your mules; -and don't spare them. We have relays on the road; not a word except in -whispers to one another." - -As soon as they were fairly on the mountains, they urged their mules -forward at a rapid pace, and rode several miles in a very short time. As -Fra Angelo had said, they met various persons with whom they exchanged -the sentences agreed upon. Then the Capuchin would ride up to them and -talk with them in undertones, and they would resume their journey in -company, sufficiently far apart not to seem to be travelling together, -but always within sight and call. - -The weather was exceedingly mild and the night superbly bright when they -started up the mountain. The moon lighted up huge masses of rock and -romantic precipices; but as they ascended through that wild country the -cold made itself felt, and the mist veiled the splendor of the stars. -Magnani was lost in his thoughts, but the young prince abandoned himself -to a childlike delight in adventures, and, far from nourishing and -fondling any presentiment of evil, as his friend was doing, he rode -forward overflowing with confidence in his lucky star. - -As for the monk, he abstained from thinking of anything whatsoever -unconnected with the enterprise he was directing. With watchful, -penetrating eye, his ear on the alert for the faintest sound, he also -watched closely every movement, every change of position on the part of -his companions. At the slightest sign of relaxation of their hold upon -the reins, at the slightest suspicious swaying of their hooded heads, he -would have rescued them from the danger of dozing and falling from their -mules. - -After riding fifteen miles, they changed mounts at a sort of hermitage -which seemed to be deserted, but where they were received in the -darkness by pretended muleteers, of whom they inquired as to the road -leading to the famous village of _Tre-Castagne_, and who answered, as -they grasped their hands and held their stirrups, that _all roads led to -Rome_. Fra Angelo distributed money, powder and bullets, which he -carried in his mendicant's wallet, to all those persons whom he met and -who were provided with that eloquent countersign; and, when they -approached the end of their journey, Michel had counted a score or more -of men, muleteers and peddlers, monks and peasants, who belonged to -their party. There were even three in woman's dress,--young fellows -whose beards had not yet grown nor their voices changed. They were very -well made up, and played their parts to perfection. They were ready to -serve as messengers or scouts at need. - -The Piccinino's situation and the circumstances of his capture were as -follows. The murder of Abbé Ninfo had been executed and proclaimed with -an insane audacity altogether contrary to the young chief's habitual -prudence. To kill a man, and to boast of it by an inscription left upon -the very spot where the crime was committed, instead of concealing his -body and removing every trace of the deed--a very simple matter in a -region like that of Ætna--was certainly a desperate performance, a sort -of challenge hurled at destiny in a moment of frantic excitement. But -Carmelo, wishing not to shut himself out forever from his cherished -retreat at Nicolosi, had left it in perfect order, in case of an -investigation which should result in domiciliary visits. He had hastily -stripped his luxurious boudoir and hidden all his treasures in an -excavation under the house, of which it was almost impossible to find -the entrance or to suspect the existence. And about sunrise he had shown -himself in the village of Nicolosi, perfectly placid and in excellent -spirits, thus laying a foundation for an _alibi_, if the police, taking -for true the declaration written on the base of the _Destatore's_ cross, -should conceive suspicions of him and make inquiries as to what he was -doing at that time. The murder of Abbé Ninfo had been committed at -least two hours earlier. - -Having taken these precautions, Carmelo had ridden through the village, -making some purchases for a journey of several days, and informing his -acquaintances that he was going to look at some farming lands in the -interior of the island. - -He had started for the Nebrodes mountains in the northern part of -Sicily, having determined to pass some days with certain brigands -affiliated to his own band, until the investigations and searching about -Catania had probably come to an end. He knew the methods of the police -of the province; they were zealous and fierce at first, then timid and -knavish, and, finally, tired and slothful. - -But the affair at the _Destatore's_ cross had made a deeper impression -on the ruling powers than an ordinary murder. This had a political -bearing, and seemed to be related to the great sensation of the moment, -Agatha's declaration and her son's appearance on the world's stage. -Severe orders were sent out rapidly in all directions. Carmelo was not -safe in the mountains, especially as his acolyte, the false Piccinino, -had joined him, and thus drew upon him all the danger of pursuit. -Carmelo did not choose to abandon that savage, bloodthirsty man, who had -given him abundant proofs of boundless devotion and blind submission, -and who continued to play his part to the end with proud and unwearying -courage. - -He determined, therefore, to arrange for his escape before providing for -his own safety. The false Piccinino, whose real name was Massari, and -who was called _Verbum Caro_ because he was a native of the village of -that name, was endowed with a brute courage that nothing could daunt, -but was as stupid as a buffalo in a frenzy. Carmelo went to the seashore -with him, and tried to find a boat to take him to Sardinia. But, despite -the precautions with which he surrounded that step, the owner of the -boat betrayed them as smugglers to the revenue officers on the coast. -Verbum Caro fought like a lion, and was half dead when he finally fell -into the hands of his enemies. Carmelo was slightly wounded, and both -were taken to the nearest fort, to be turned over to a squad of -_campieri_, in which were two men who recognized the false Piccinino -from having seen him during a skirmish at another part of the island. -They so testified before the magistrate at Cefalù, and there was great -rejoicing because the famous chief of the dreaded band was in custody. -The real Piccinino was supposed to be one of his confederates, although -Verbum Caro insisted that he had known him only three days, and that he -was a young fisherman who proposed going to Sardinia with him as he had -business there. - -Carmelo replied to the questions that were asked him with a presence of -mind and a talent for deception which would have secured his release at -any other moment; but the country was intensely excited; so they decided -to send him to Catania with his dangerous companion, for further -proceedings, and they were placed in charge of the _campieri_, who -decided to take them to Catania by the road leading through the -mountains to the centre of the island, deeming it the safer way. - -But they were attacked in the outskirts of Sperlinga by a few brigands -who had already learned of the arrest of the two Piccininos; but, just -as the prisoners were about to be set free, an unexpected reinforcement -came to the aid of the _campieri_ and put the brigands to flight. It was -during this action that the Piccinino was adroit enough to throw among -the assailants a paper wrapped around a stone, which he had in his hand -ready for the first opportunity. Malacarne, whom he had recognized among -his would-be rescuers, was an active, intelligent man, a former member -of his father's band and a loyal friend to Fra Angelo. He had picked up -the note and carried it to its address with valuable additional -information. - -In the fear, well-founded as we have seen, of an attack in the Nebrodes -mountains and an attempted rescue of the Piccinino, the authorities at -Cefalù had tried to conceal the importance of this capture, and the -escort of the prisoners made no display when they set forth. But the -same authorities had despatched an express to Catania to ask that a -detachment of Swiss troops be sent to Sperlinga to meet the escort, and -to say that they would halt there and wait for them. The brigands of the -mountain, who were on the alert, had waylaid and killed the messenger; -and, having ascertained beyond question, by reading his despatches, that -the prisoner was their leader, they had tried, as we have seen, to -rescue him from the hands of his escort. - -The ill success of this attempt did not discourage them. Carmelo was the -soul of their lives. His shrewd leadership, his activity, the spirit of -justice, now savage, now chivalrous in its manifestations, which -governed his decisions with respect to them, and the immense prestige -attached to his name and his person, made him no less sacred than -necessary to them. It was the unanimous opinion among them, and among a -great number of mountaineers, who, while they did not know him and were -not immediately under his orders, were very glad to exchange favors with -him and his troop, that when the Piccinino was dead, the bandit's -profession would become impossible, and that there would be no other -resource for the heroes of the mountain than to become beggars. - -So Malacarne assembled a few of his comrades near Sperlinga, and -succeeded in sending word to the two Piccininos that they must represent -themselves as being very ill, in order to remain there as long as -possible. It was by no means difficult to act upon the suggestion, for -Verbum Caro was dangerously wounded, and in the desperate efforts he had -made to burst his bonds during the engagement on the mountain, he had -reopened his wound and lost so much blood that they had had to carry him -to Sperlinga. Moreover, the _campieri_ knew that it was of the utmost -importance to take him to Catania alive, so that they might try to -extort from him some information concerning Ninfo's murder and the -whereabouts of his band. - -As soon as Malacarne had made his arrangements, he bade his comrades, -who were as yet only eight in number, to be ready for action, mounted -the murdered messenger's horse, after clipping him so as to make him -unrecognizable, and rode across the country in a straight line to Bel -Passo, notifying all those persons upon whom he could rely, to take arms -and await his return. Seconded by Fra Angelo, he passed six hours on -Ætna, collecting other brigands, and at last, on the second night after -the arrival of the prisoners at Sperlinga, a score or more of determined -men, trained to daring enterprises of this sort, encamped at the foot of -the cliff on which it stands. - -Fra Angelo, the young Prince of Castro-Reale, and the faithful Magnani -also arrived, to direct the expedition, the first as leader, for he knew -the country generally and the particular locality better than anyone, -having once before carried the paltry stronghold by assault under the -_Destatore_, in better days; the other two as lieutenants, young -noblemen of the patriotic party, forced to conceal their identity, but -rich and powerful. So said Fra Angelo, who knew well that both poetry -and prose are essential to stimulate men who are fighting against the -laws. - -When Fra Angelo and his friends left their mules, to plunge in among the -steep cliffs of Sperlinga, they were able to count their men, and found -that there were about twenty peasants posted here and there at some -little distance--prudent auxiliaries who would come to their assistance -as soon as the chances of war seemed to favor them; revengeful and -bloodthirsty men, who had suffered many and grievous wrongs which they -longed to avenge upon their enemies, and who knew how to do justice -speedily and pitilessly when there was not too great a risk to be run. - -Nevertheless, a part of the band was beginning to show signs of -demoralization when the monk arrived. The lieutenant of the _campieri_, -who had charge of the prisoners, had sent to Castro-Giovanni during the -day to request reinforcements, which were likely to arrive with the -dawn. This officer was disturbed by the non-appearance of the Swiss, -whom he was awaiting with great impatience. The spirit manifested by the -surrounding population did not tend to allay his fears. Perhaps he had -detected some signs of activity among the brigands in the mountain, and -of their evident understanding with certain people in the village. -However that may be, he was afraid--which fact the monk looked upon as a -pledge of victory--and he issued orders for departure on the following -day, preferring, he said to see a miserable wretch like the Piccinino -die on the highroad, rather than expose brave troops to the risk of -being murdered in a fortress without gates or walls. - -Perhaps the officer knew enough Latin to read, over the gateway of the -ancient Norman castle in which he was intrenched, the famous motto which -French tourists go thither to contemplate with love and gratitude: - -_Quod Sicilis placuit, Sperlinga sola negavit_.[1] We know that -Sperlinga was the only place which refused to surrender the Angevins at -the time of the _Sicilian Vespers_. It is well enough for our -compatriots to take pride therein; but it is certain that Sperlinga -performed no act of patriotism; and that, if the officer of _campieri_ -looked upon the then government as existing in compliance with the -popular desire of Sicily, he must have seen, in the _negavit_ of -Sperlinga, a constant threat which might well arouse a superstitious -terror in his mind.[2] - -The reinforcements from Castro-Giovanni were expected at any moment. The -assailants would find themselves between two fires. The imaginations of -some pictured the arrival of the Swiss also, and the Swiss soldier is -the terror of the Sicilians. Hardened and implacable, those children of -Helvetia, whose mercenary service under despotic governments is the -shame of their fatherland, strike without distinction at everything they -meet, and the _campiere_ who hesitates to display less courage and -ferocity than they, is the first to fall under their bullets. - -Thus there was fear on both sides; but Fra Angelo triumphed over the -hesitation of the brigands by a few words of rough eloquence and -unparalleled temerity. After vehemently rebuking those who talked of -waiting, he declared that he and his two _princes_ would go alone to -meet their death under the walls of the fort, so that it might be said -throughout all Sicily: "Two patricians and a monk alone tried to effect -the rescue of the Piccinino. The children of the mountain looked on and -did not stir. Tyranny triumphs, the people of Sicily have become -dastards!" - -Malacarne seconded him, declaring that he too would go and be shot down. -"And then," he said, "you can hunt up a leader and do what you choose." -There was no further hesitation, and such men know no middle course -between discouragement and unbridled frenzy. Fra Angelo had no sooner -seen them start forward than he exclaimed: "The Piccinino is saved!" -Michel was amazed that he could place so much confidence in courage that -was so weak-kneed a moment before; but he soon found out that the -Capuchin knew them better than he did. - - -[Footnote 1: Sperlinga alone refused to do what the Sicilians wished.] - -[Footnote 2: However ill-advised the hospitality accorded to the French -by the castle of Sperlinga may have been from the standpoint of the -welfare of the country, it was admirable in its persistence and -self-sacrificing spirit. Refugees and defenders died of hunger in the -fortress rather than surrender.] - - - - -LI - -CATASTROPHE - - -The fortress of Sperlinga, formerly considered impregnable, was at this -time nothing more than a majestic ruin, incapable of being defended. The -town, or more properly the hamlet, below it, was inhabited by a few -wretched creatures wasted by fever and poverty. Fortress and village -were perched upon a cliff of grayish sandstone, and the upper works of -the fortress were hollowed out of the rock. - -The besiegers climbed the cliff on the side farthest from the village. -It seemed inaccessible; but the brigands were so well used to assaults -of that sort that they were very soon under the walls of the fort. Half -of them, under Malacarne, climbed still higher, and posted themselves in -an abandoned bastion on the highest point of the mountain. This -crenelated bastion afforded a safe position from which to fire down -almost perpendicularly upon the castle. It was agreed that Fra Angelo -and his men should station themselves at the entrance to the fortress, -where there was only a huge, worm-eaten, disjointed gate, which it was -not considered necessary to destroy, as that operation might take -sufficient time to give the garrison an opportunity to organize an -effective resistance. Malacarne's party was to fire on the castle from -above, while Fra Angelo held himself in readiness to fall upon those who -should come out. Then he would pretend to retreat, and, while they -pursued him, Malacarne would come down, attack the enemy in the rear, -and place him between two fires. - -The little garrison temporarily quartered in the castle consisted of -about thirty men, a larger number than the assailants anticipated, the -reinforcements from Castro-Giovanni having arrived secretly at nightfall -and climbed up the road, or rather the staircase, from the village, -unseen by the bandits who were busily occupied in making their -preparations and taking great pains to keep out of sight. That part of -the escort which had kept watch throughout the preceding night was -sleeping, wrapped in their cloaks, on the floors of the great dismantled -halls. The late arrivals had lighted an enormous fire of fir branches in -the courtyard, and were playing _mora_ to keep awake. - -The prisoners occupied the great square tower: Verbum Caro, exhausted -and gasping for breath, stretched on a pile of rushes; the Piccinino, -gloomy but calm, sitting on a stone bench, much wider awake than his -keepers. He had heard a little bird whistling in the ravine, and had -recognized that designedly inaccurate melody as a signal from Malacarne. -He was patiently rubbing against a projecting stone the cord with which -his hands were bound. - -The officer in command of the _campieri_ was seated on the only chair in -an adjoining room, with his elbows resting on the only table in the -castle, which he had obtained by requisitioning it in the village. He -was an energetic, surly young man, accustomed to keep his temper at the -boiling point by the constant use of wine and tobacco, having to fight -against a lingering remnant of love for his country and hatred of the -Swiss. He had not slept an hour since the Piccinino was placed in his -custody, so that he was literally falling under the assaults of -drowsiness. The lighted cigar which he held in his hand burned the ends -of his fingers from time to time. Then he would rouse himself with a -start, puff at his cigar, look out through a great crack in the wall in -front of him to see if there were any signs of dawn, and, feeling -acutely the sharpness of the air on that elevated spot, would wrap his -cloak about him with a shudder, cursing the false Piccinino, who was -breathing stertorously in the adjoining room, and in a moment would let -his head fall forward on the table once more. - -A sentinel was on guard at each end of the castle, but, whether because -of fatigue or of the heedlessness that takes possession of the most -disturbed mind when a dangerous situation is nearing its end, they had -not detected the swift and silent approach of the brigands. A third -sentinel was on duty at the isolated bastion which Malacarne was about -to seize, and that circumstance came very near causing the failure of -the whole plan of attack. - -As he was climbing through a breach, Malacarne saw the man sitting under -his feet, almost between his legs. He had not anticipated that obstacle, -and he had neither his dagger nor his pistol in his hand. An opportune -dagger thrust cuts a man's life short without giving him time to cry -out. The pistol shot is less certain, nor did Malacarne wish to fire -until all his men were posted so that they could pour a deadly volley -into the fort. Meanwhile the sentinel would surely give the alarm, even -if the bandit should retreat, for his footing was precarious, and the -stones, uncemented, were beginning to crumble all about him. _The -campiere_ was not asleep. He was paralyzed with cold, and had pulled his -cloak over his head as a protection against the piercing wind which -stiffened his limbs. - -But while this precaution deadened the sound of the wind and made it -easier for him to hear sounds in the distance, it prevented him from -hearing any noise at his side, and the hood which he had pulled over his -eyes had made him blind for the last quarter of an hour. However, he was -a brave soldier, incapable of sleeping at his post. But there is nothing -more difficult than to keep a sharp lookout. An active and alert mind is -necessary for that, and the _campiere's_ mind was wholly devoid of -thought. He fancied that he was watching because he was not moving. And -yet the mere falling of a pebble at his feet would have caused him to -fire his gun. He had his finger on the trigger. - -Inspired by his desperate situation, Malacarne grasped the unfortunate -sentinel's throat in his iron hands, rolled down into the bastion with -him, and held him thus, unable to utter a sound, until one of his -comrades stabbed him in his arms. - -In another moment they were crouching behind the battlements, protected -from the fire of the enemy. The fire blazing in the courtyard enabled -them to see the _campieri_ unsuspectingly intent on their game, and they -took plenty of time to aim. The weapons were hurriedly reloaded while -the besieged were seeking theirs; but before they had thought of using -them--before they had discovered from what direction they were -attacked--a second volley was poured in upon them, and several were -severely wounded. Two did not rise again; a third fell head-foremost -into the fire, and was burned to death for lack of help. - -From the tower the officer had seen where the attack had come from. He -rushed out, roaring with rage. He did not arrive in time to prevent his -men from wasting a volley on the wall. - -"Stupid dolts!" he cried, "you waste your ammunition firing at random! -You have lost your wits! Leave the fort! Leave the fort! We must fight -outside!" - -But he discovered that he himself had lost his wits, for he had left his -sword on the table on which he had fallen asleep. A flight of six steps -separated him from the room. He ascended them at a single leap, for he -knew that in a moment he would have to fight with cold steel. - -But, during the fusillade, the Piccinino had succeeded in breaking his -bonds, and had taken advantage of the tumult to break down the -ill-secured door of his prison. He had pounced on the lieutenant's sword -and extinguished the pitch-pine torch that was stuck in a crack of the -table. When the officer returned, and was feeling about in the darkness -for his weapon, he received a terrific cut across the face, and fell -backward. Carmelo rushed upon him and finished him. Then he cut Verbum -Caro's bonds and handed him the lieutenant's sword, saying: "Do what you -can!" - -The false Piccinino forgot in an instant his weakness and his suffering. -He dragged himself on his knees to the door, and there he succeeded in -rising and standing on his feet. But the real Piccinino, seeing that he -could not walk except by clinging to the walls, threw the officer's -cloak over him, put the military cap on his head, and told him to go out -at his leisure. Thereupon he himself went down into the deserted -courtyard, took the cloak from one of the _campieri_ who had been -killed, disguised himself as best he could, and, always faithful to his -comrade, took him by the arm and led him toward the gateway of the fort. - -Everybody had gone out except the two men who had been left behind to -prevent the prisoners from escaping in the confusion, and who were -returning to guard the tower. The fire in the courtyard was dying out, -and gave only a feeble light. - -"The lieutenant is wounded!" cried one of them, as he saw Verbum Caro -leaning on Carmelo, who was himself disguised. - -Verbum Caro did not reply, but motioned to them to go on and guard the -tower. Then he went out as rapidly as he could, with his chief, whom he -implored to fly without him, but who refused to abandon him under any -consideration. - -If this was generous conduct on the Piccinino's part, it was no less -judicious; for, by giving his men such proofs of affection, he made sure -of their loyalty forever. The false Piccinino might have been recaptured -the next moment; but if he had been, no amount of torture could have -made him admit that his companion was the real Piccinino. - -They were already fighting on the narrow platform in front of the -castle, and the brigands commanded by Fra Angelo pretended to give way. -But the _campieri_, deprived of their leader, did not act together or in -good order. When Malacarne's detachment, rushing down from the bastion -like a thunderbolt, took possession of the gateway and showed them that -retreat was impossible, they felt that they were lost, and halted as if -dazed by terror. At that moment Fra Angelo, Michel, Magnani and their -men turned upon them and pressed them so close that their plight seemed -desperate indeed. Thereupon the _campieri_, knowing that the brigands -gave no quarter, fought with the frenzy of despair. Crowded between two -walls, they had the advantage of position over the brigands, who were -obliged to avoid the precipice behind them. Moreover, Malacarne's band -had been struck with dismay. - -As the two Piccininos crossed the drawbridge, the brigands, deceived by -their disguise, had fired on them. Verbum Caro was not touched, but -Carmelo, struck by a bullet in the shoulder, had fallen. Malacarne had -rushed at him to finish him, but, on recognizing his chief, had fairly -roared with grief, and his men, crowding about him, no longer thought of -fighting. - -For a few moments Fra Angelo and Michel, who were fighting in the front -rank, hand-to-hand with the _campieri_, were in grave danger. Magnani -was even farther to the front; he tried to turn aside all the blows -aimed at Michel, for they had no time to reload their weapons and were -fighting with swords and knives, and the noble-hearted Magnani sought to -make his body a rampart to protect Agatha's son. - -Suddenly Michel, who was constantly pushing him aside and begging him to -think of his own safety, missed him from his side. Michel thereupon -attacked the enemy fiercely. The first horror of bloodshed having passed -away, he was urged onward by a strange and terrifying nervous -excitement. He was not wounded. Fra Angelo, who had a superstitious -faith in the grandeur of the young prince's destiny, had prophesied that -he would not be. But if he had been wounded twenty times over, he would -not have been conscious of it, his vital forces were so concentrated in -his brain. He was, as it were, intoxicated by danger, and excited to -frenzy by the battle. It was a ghastly but intense pleasure; the blood -of Castro-Reale awoke and began to boil fiercely in the veins of the -lion's whelp. When the victory was won, and they were able to join -forces with Malacarne, walking over dead bodies, it seemed to Michel -that the contest had been too short and too easily decided. And yet it -had been so desperate that almost every man among the victors was more -or less severely wounded. The _campieri_ had sold their lives dearly, -and if Malacarne had not recovered his energy when he saw that the -Piccinino was reviving and was able to fight, Fra Angelo's band would -have been forced back into the yawning ravine behind them. - -The dull gray dawn was beginning to whiten the misty peaks on the -horizon when the assailants entered the conquered fortress. They had to -pass through it in order to retire into the mountains unseen by the -inhabitants of the village, who had left their horses and were timidly -climbing their steep rocky street to ascertain the result of the -engagement. Their anxious eyes could hardly distinguish the moving mass -of the combatants, lighted only by the flashing of their fire-arms. -While they were fighting hand-to-hand the pale-faced citizens of -Sperlinga stood frozen with terror, listening to the shouts and -imprecations of that incomprehensible struggle. They had no inclination -to assist the garrison, and most of them longed for the success of the -brigands. But the dread of reprisals restrained them from going to their -aid. At daybreak they could be seen, almost naked, standing in groups -here and there like trembling ghosts, manifesting an ill-defined purpose -to go to the assistance of the victors. - -Fra Angelo and the Piccinino had no idea of waiting for them. They -rushed hurriedly into the fortress, each brigand dragging a body to give -it the _coup de grace_. They collected their wounded, and disfigured -those of their own number who were dead. But this ghastly scene, which -acted upon Verbum Caro like a tonic, disgusted the Piccinino beyond -measure. He instantly ordered his men to disperse, and to return to -their homes or places of refuge as speedily as possible. Then he took -Fra Angelo's arm, and entrusting Verbum Caro to the care of Malacarne -and his party, tried to induce the monk to fly with him. - -But Fra Angelo was in a terrible state of anxiety concerning Michel and -Magnani, and went about from one to another, without mentioning any -names, asking for the two young monks who had accompanied him. He was -not willing to leave the place until he had found them, and his -desperate persistence threatened to expose him to grave danger. - -At last the Piccinino spied two frocks at the bottom of the ravine. - -"There are your companions," he said to the monk, leading him in that -direction. "They have gone ahead; and I can well imagine that they fled -from the sickening spectacle of our victory. But their delicacy doesn't -interfere with their being gallant fellows. Who are they, pray? I saw -them fighting like lions. They wear the dress of your order; but I -cannot understand how two such heroes can have been living in your -convent and I not know them." - -Fra Angelo did not reply; with his bloodshot eyes he was trying to make -out the two monks. He recognized the frocks he had given Michel and -Magnani, but he could not understand their inaction, and the -indifference with which they held themselves aloof from the others. One -of them seemed to be seated, the other kneeling by his side. Fra Angelo -hurried down into the ravine so eagerly and recklessly that again and -again he nearly fell over the precipice. - -The Piccinino, who was severely wounded, but strong of will and stoical -in his suffering, followed him, careless of his own safety, and they -soon reached the foot of the precipice, a spot shut in on all sides, and -terribly solitary, with a mountain torrent flowing at their feet. As -they had been compelled to make a detour about several steep cliffs, -they had lost sight of the two monks, and the darkness that still -prevailed in the depths of the gorge made it difficult for them to find -their way. - -They dared not call; but at last they discovered the men they were -seeking. One was sitting on the ground, supported by the arms of the -other. Fra Angelo rushed forward and pushed back the hood that first met -his hand. He saw Magnani's handsome face, darkened by the shadow of -death; his blood was pouring out upon the ground; Michel was drenched -with it and felt that his strength was giving way, although he had no -other wound than that caused by his intense and intolerable sorrow at -his inability to help his friend, and at the feeling that he was dying -in his arms. - -Fra Angelo tried to assist the noble-hearted artisan, but Magnani gently -put away the hand with which he would have touched his wound. - -"Let me die in peace, padre," he said, in a voice so faint that the monk -was obliged to put his ear to the dying man's lips to hear what he said. -"I am happy that I am able to bid you good-bye. You will tell Michel's -mother and sister that I died defending him; but do not let Michel know -it! He will take care of my family, and you will console them. We won -the victory, did we not," he said to the Piccinino, glancing at him with -a lifeless eye and not recognizing him. - -"O Mila!" exclaimed the Piccinino involuntarily, "you would have been a -brave man's wife!" - -"Where are you, Michel? I cannot see you any more," said Magnani, -feeling for his friend with trembling hands. "We are safe here, aren't -we? at the gates of Catania, of course? You will soon embrace your -mother! Ah! yes, I hear the murmur of the naiad; the sound revives me; -the water flows into my wound--cold as ice, but very soothing." - -"Live to see my mother and sister!" cried Michel. "Ah! you shall live, -we will never part!" - -"Alas! I know what that smile means," said the Piccinino in an -undertone, examining Magnani's blue distorted lips; "do not let him talk -any more." - -"But I am perfectly well!" exclaimed Magnani in a loud voice, putting -out his arms. "I do not feel ill at all. Let us go, my friends!" - -He struggled to his feet with a convulsive movement, stood for an -instant swaying to and fro, then fell dead on the moist sand on the edge -of the stream. - -Michel was utterly overwhelmed. Fra Angelo did not lose his presence of -mind, although from his breast, heaving with violent sobs, there issued -hoarse, heartrending groans. He lifted an enormous stone at the entrance -to one of the innumerable caves hollowed out of the sandstone long -before, to obtain material for building the fortress; he carefully -covered Magnani's body with the ample folds of the frock he wore, and, -having thus provided a temporary shroud, closed the cave once more with -the stone and left the body there. - -Then he took Michel's arm, and walked with him and the Piccinino to a -more extensive excavation a hundred yards away, which was occupied as a -dwelling by a wretchedly destitute family. In the man who joined them -there a few moments later, Michel might have recognized one of the -peasants who were on friendly terms with the brigands, but Michel knew -nothing of what was going on, and recognized nobody. - -The peasant assisted the monk to dress the Piccinino's wound, which was -deep and beginning to cause him much pain, so much that it required all -his strength of will to conceal it. - -Fra Angelo was a better surgeon than most of his countrymen who held -diplomas. He performed a painful but rapid operation on the Piccinino, -and extracted the bullet. The patient did not utter a groan, and Michel -did not recover consciousness of his surroundings until he saw him turn -pale and grind his teeth. - -"Are you going to die too, brother?" he said, taking his clenched hand. - -"Would to God that I had died instead of your friend!" Carmelo replied, -in an outburst of fierce anger with himself. "I should no longer suffer, -and I should be mourned; whereas now I shall suffer all my life and -nobody will mourn for me!" - -"Is this your gratitude for your brother's self-sacrificing devotion, my -friend?" said the monk, throwing the bullet on the ground. - -"Brother," rejoined the Piccinino, putting Michel's hand to his lips, -"you did not do it from affection for me, I know; you did it for your -own honor. But you are revenged for my hatred; for you continue to hate -me, and I am doomed to love you!" - -Two tears rolled down the brigand's pale cheeks. Were they a -manifestation of genuine emotion, or were they caused by the nervous -reaction that follows the violent strain of physical suffering? -Doubtless they were due in some measure to both causes. - -The peasant suggested a strange remedy, which Fra Angelo accepted with -great eagerness: the application of a bituminous ooze which was found at -the bottom of a spring of brackish water heavily charged with sulphur. -The country people collect it and keep it in earthen jars to use in -making poultices; it is their panacea. Fra Angelo made a poultice of it -and placed it on the brigand's wound; then, having washed him and -covered him with some wretched clothes which they bought from the -peasant; having also washed off the blood with which Michel and himself -were covered, he gave his companions a few swallows of wine, placed -Carmelo on their host's mule, gave the man a round sum in gold, to prove -to him that there were advantages in serving the good cause, and left -him, having first made him swear that he would go the following night -and get Magnani's body, and bury it with as much respect as if it were -his own son's. - -"My own son!" said the peasant in a hollow voice: "do you mean the one -the Swiss killed last year?" - -This question gave Michel more confidence in the man than any promises -or oaths could have done. He looked at him for the first time, and -noticed an expression of extraordinary vigor and fanatical enthusiasm on -that wasted, earth-colored face. He was more than a brigand, he was a -wolf, a vulture, always ready to fall upon a bleeding quarry, to tear it -to pieces and glut his rage in its entrails. One could see that his -whole life would be too short to avenge his son's death. He did not -suggest to his guests that he should guide them in their flight. He was -in haste to have done with his duty to them, so that he could go up to -the castle to see if any _campiere_ were still breathing and to insult -him in his death agony. - - - - -LII - -CONCLUSION - - -The three fugitives occupied twice the time in returning to Catania that -it had taken them to go to Sperlinga. The Piccinino could not travel -long without falling forward on his mule's neck, prostrated by fever. -Then they would halt in some cave or deserted ruin, and the monk was -obliged to give him wine to drink to keep up his strength, although he -realized that it increased the fever. - -They had to follow steep and difficult roads, or rather to avoid every -sort of road, in order not to expose themselves to the risk of -inopportune encounters. Fra Angelo expected to find, halfway to Catania, -a poor family upon whom he could rely as upon himself, to shelter his -patient and nurse him; but he found only a deserted house, already half -in ruins. Poverty had driven the poor creatures from their home. They -could not pay the tax assessed on the house. Perhaps they were in -prison. - -It was a serious disappointment to the monk and his companion. They had -purposely kept at a distance from the region overrun by the brigands, -because the absence of danger made the police less active in the -southern part of the island. But when they found the only place of -refuge upon which they could rely in that part of the mountains entirely -deserted, they were really alarmed. In vain did the Piccinino urge the -monk and Michel to leave him to his fate, declaring that, as soon as he -was alone, necessity would endow him with superhuman strength. They -refused, as the reader will imagine, and, having discussed all possible -expedients, they decided upon the safest and most certain of all, -although it seemed the boldest; it was to take Carmelo to the Palmarosa -palace and keep him in hiding there until he was in a condition to fly. -The princess would simply have to treat certain persons with the -faintest suggestion of deference to avert any possible suspicion of her -conduct; and in such an emergency, when Michel might be suspected of -having assisted in the rescue of the Piccinino, she would not hesitate -to deceive the court party as to her political sentiments. - -This idea of the monk's would have been most repellent to Michel a few -days earlier; but each succeeding event made him more and more of a -Sicilian, by impressing upon him more strongly the necessity of cunning. -So he acquiesced, and they had nothing further to do except to smuggle -the wounded man into the palace unseen. That was the only important -point, for the seclusion in which Agatha lived, the small number and -blind devotion of her servants, the fidelity and prudence of her maid -Nunziata, who alone was allowed to enter certain rooms in the Casino, to -say nothing of a thousand other details of the princess's mysterious -existence, made that place of refuge as secure as could be desired. -Moreover, there was the Serra palace a few steps away, to which the -patient could be transported in case the Villa Palmarosa should become -untenable. It was decided that Michel should go ahead and steal into the -villa at nightfall; that he should warn his mother of the wounded man's -arrival, and assist her to make the necessary arrangements to receive -him and to admit him secretly a few hours later. - -Agatha was in a state of anxiety impossible to describe when Nunziata -told her that some one was waiting for her in her oratory. She hastened -thither, and, catching sight of a monk's frock, nearly fainted, for she -thought that one of the brethren of Bel Passo had come to bring some -fatal news. But well disguised as Michel was, the mother's eye was not -deceived for long, and she embraced him passionately, bursting into -tears. - -Michel said nothing of the dangers to which he had been exposed; she -would divine them soon enough when the news of the Piccinino's rescue -should spread through the country. He simply told her that he had been -to a wild, out-of-the-way spot in the mountains, where his brother lay -helpless and dying; that he had brought him to her to place him in her -care; and that his new hiding-place must be made ready for him. - -In the middle of the night the wounded man arrived unhindered; but he -did not climb the stairs in the lava with the same haughty bearing as on -the last occasion. His strength was failing more and more. Fra Angelo -was obliged to carry him from the first stair to the last. He hardly -recognized Agatha, and for several days he hovered between life and -death. - -Mila's anxiety was temporarily allayed when Michel told her that Magnani -had gone to Palermo to do him a service. But many days passed, and, as -Magnani did not return, his family was surprised and alarmed. Michel -pretended that he had had news. He had gone to Rome, still in his -service, and, later, he said that the important and secret business -which the Palmarosa family had entrusted to the young artisan required -him to go to Milan, Venice, Vienna--where you please. They kept him -travelling for several years, and, to allay the anxiety and grief of his -parents, read to them--for they did not know how to read--passages from -pretended letters, and gave them large sums of money which he was -supposed to send them. - -The Magnani family grew rich, and marvelled at poor Antonio's good -fortune. They lived in sadness and hope. His old mother died, sorely -afflicted to have had no opportunity to embrace him, but bidding Michel -send him her blessing. - -As for Mila, it would have been more difficult to deceive her, had not -the princess, in order to spare her a much greater sorrow, suggested a -catastrophe to which she could more readily become reconciled. She -hinted more and more definitely, and, finally, told her outright that -Magnani, torn between his former passion and his new love for her, had -feared that he could not make her happy, and so had gone away, resolved -not to return until he was completely cured of the past. - -Mila looked upon this as a noble and honorable proceeding; but she was -piqued to find that she had not been able, unaided, to efface the memory -of so persistent a passion. She strove to cure herself, for she was told -that her lover's cure was not certain, and her unbounded pride came to -her aid. Magnani's prolonged absence made her stronger and braver day by -day. When he was supposed to have gone to Rome, she was told that he -could not triumph over the old affection, and that he renounced the new. -Mila did not weep; she prayed, without a shade of bitterness, for the -happiness of an ingrate, and gradually recovered her former serenity. - -Michel suffered terribly, of course, when, as occasionally happened, he -heard her slighting references to the absent one, who deserved to be -enshrined forever in her memory. But he sacrificed everything to the -peace of mind of his adopted sister. He went secretly, with Fra Angelo, -to see his friend's grave. The peasant who had buried him conducted them -to the cemetery of a convent near by. Worthy monks, patriots like most -of the monks in Sicily, had borne the body thither by night, and had -inscribed these words in Latin on a stone which served as his monument, -among the white roses and flowering broom: - - _Here reposes an unknown martyr._ - -The Piccinino's convalescence was longer than they had anticipated. The -wound healed quickly enough; but a nervous fever of some gravity -detained him three months in Agatha's boudoir, which was transformed -into his bedroom, and which was guarded with religious care. - -A moral revolution was taking place in that headstrong and distrustful -young man. Michel's and the princess's solicitude, the extreme delicacy -of their consoling words, the innumerable joys of kindly treatment, -which he had lost with his mother and had never hoped to find again in -other hearts, gradually made an impression upon the pride and -indifference in which he had encased himself, as in a coat of mail. He -had always felt an ardent craving to be loved, although he was not -himself capable of being moved so powerfully and persistently by -affection as by hatred. At first he was, as it were, wounded and -humiliated by being compelled to be grateful. But it happened that -Agatha's heart, which had wrought a miracle upon Michel, did the same -for Carmelo. Agatha, although outwardly cold and fastidious in her -feelings, had such a vast and generous heart that she always ended by -loving those whom she pitied. There were many times still when the -patient's cold-blooded ideas horrified her; but pity gained the upper -hand when she realized how unhappy he was made by that determination to -harden his heart against everything. In his moments of physical -suffering and of nervous excitement, the Piccinino, after vaunting and -demonstrating his unerring keenness of vision in the matter of human -affections, deplored that unhappy faculty with a bitterness which made a -profound impression upon Agatha. - -One evening, when she was talking about him with Michel, and he -confessed that he had no sympathetic feeling for his brother, she said -to him: - -"Duty impels you to care for him, to incur danger for him, to overwhelm -him with favors and consideration. Very good; one must love one's duty, -and this brother of yours is a terrible trial. Duty would be easier if -you could love him. Try, Michel; perhaps, if you succeed, that warlike -heart of his will soften too, for he has the keen faculties of a sibyl. -It may be that he feels that you do not love him, and so he continues -cold to you. The instant that you have a feeling of sincere affection -for him, even though you do not manifest it, he will divine it and -perhaps will love you in his turn. I will try to set you the example. I -will strive to persuade myself that he is my son--a very different son -from you, Michel--and that his faults do not prevent my loving him." - -Agatha kept her word, and Michel tried to second her. The Piccinino was -conscious of a genuine interest in his mental suffering amid all the -tender care bestowed upon his physical ills; he softened little by -little, and one day put Agatha's hand to his lips for the first time, -saying to her: - -"You are good, like my mother. Oh! why am I not your son? Then I would -love Michel, because the same womb would have borne us both. Men are -really brothers only through the mother. She alone can make us -understand what is called the voice of blood, the cry of nature." - -Another day he said to Michel: "I do not love you, because you are my -father's son. A man who mingled his pure blood with that of so many -women of diverse ranks and natures, must have had an unstable, -complicated character, lacking unity; so that his sons are as different -from one another as day is from night. If I should ever love you, whom I -already esteem and admire, it will be because you have a mother whom I -love, and who, I sometimes persuade myself, is my mother too." - -When the Piccinino was in condition to resume his adventurous life, -which he had regretted so bitterly during the languorous days of his -illness, he was suddenly appalled at the idea of putting an end to an -existence which had become so sweet to him. He tried to assume a -careless air, and refused the offers of a happier lot which Agatha and -Michel made him; but it was evident that he was consumed by dismay and -regret. - -"My dear boy," said the marquis, "you should accept the means of -increasing the scope and effectiveness of the mission to which you have -devoted yourself. It has never occurred to us to introduce you in a -puerile and cowardly way into the society which you despise and for -which you are not adapted. But, without submitting to any constraint, -without changing in any way your independent principles, you can make a -veritable alliance, over the heads of established laws, with veritable -humanity. Hitherto you have gone astray because you have forced yourself -to hate your fellowmen. It is their false and mischievous institutions -against which you protest. In the bottom of your heart, you love your -fellows, for you suffer by reason of their aversion and your own -isolation. So change your notion of your functions as _justicier -d'aventure_. Hitherto your aversion has usurped that title, for you have -used it only for your personal vengeance and for the gratification of -your instincts. What you have lacked for playing a nobler part and -serving our country more effectively is a larger stage and resources -proportioned to your ambition. Your brother offers you these resources; -he is ready to share his income with you; and such a division will make -you more powerful for your chosen work, without binding you to society -in any way. You could not, to be sure, become a noble and a landed -proprietor without entering into engagements to be sanctioned by law; -but, by accepting secretly, from brotherly affection, the strength which -you must have, you will remain a stranger to the world we live in, while -you will become capable of working to correct its vices. You will be -able to leave this unhappy island, where your efforts are too cramped to -have their due effect. You can seek elsewhere companions and neophytes, -enter into relations with the enemies of the public misery, work for the -cause of slaves everywhere, study the means of putting an end to -slavery, and return to us with knowledge and reinforcements which will -accomplish more in one year than expeditions against wretched _campieri_ -would do in your whole life. Your faculties place you far above the -trade of brigand. Your penetration, your prudence, your varied and -extensive knowledge--everything even to the beauty of your face and the -charm of your speech--stamps you as a typical man of action, prudent as -well as daring, adroit as well as fearless. Yes, you are a born -conspirator. The hazard of birth started you upon that path, and your -character fits you to cut a most brilliant figure therein. But there are -great conspiracies which, even when they prove abortive in one part of -the world, forward the cause of universal liberty: and there are paltry -ones which come to an end on a scaffold, with the unknown hero who -organizes them. If you fall to-morrow in an ambuscade, your band is -scattered, and national independence breathes its last in your breast. -But conspire in the bright sunlight of humanity, instead of lurking in -the shadow of our precipices, and some day you may be the liberator of -our brothers instead of the terror of our old women." - -These words were at once harsh and flattering to the Piccinino's -sensitive self-love. The criticism of his past life cut him to the -quick, but the favorable judgment concerning his capacity for usefulness -in the future healed the wound. He blushed, turned pale, reflected and -understood. He was too intelligent to contend against the truth. Agatha -and Michel affectionately took his hands, and begged him on their knees -to accept half of a fortune the whole of which they owed to him. Tears -of pride, hope, joy, and perhaps of gratitude as well, started from his -glistening eyes, and he accepted. - -We must not forget to say that another miracle had taken place, unknown -to all, in that strange man's heart. Love, true love, had vanquished -him. Mila had been his nurse, and Mila had chained the tiger. She was -proud of it, with good reason, and she was naturally very proud. The -love of Captain Piccinino relieved her in her own eyes from the blemish -upon her pride due to Magnani's desertion. She was brave too. She felt -that she was born for a more difficult and more brilliant destiny than -spinning silk. Her heroic and poetic instincts were exceedingly well -adapted to a life full of danger and excitement. Carmelo, who had -expressed his regret at their first interview that she was not a boy, -whom, like Lara, he could take for his page, changed his mind, saying to -himself that the beauty of a woman and the brave heart of a heroine -added immensely to the charm of the young comrade of whom he had -dreamed. - -He did not obtain Mila at once, however. She voluntarily made herself -the pledge and reward of his docility in following the advice of the -princess and the marquis. I fancy that the day for the redemption of the -pledge will soon come, if it has not come already.--But here ends the -novel, which might last much longer, if I chose; for I persist in saying -that no novel can end. - - - - -THE LAST OF THE ALDINIS - - - - -INTRODUCTION - - -Novels are always works of the fancy to some extent, and some of the -fanciful conceits of the imagination are like clouds that pass over our -heads. Whence come the clouds, and whither do they go? - -Walking through the forest of Fontainebleau one day, with my son, I -dreamed about something very different from this book, which I wrote -that same evening in a tavern, and forgot the next morning, to think -only of flowers and butterflies. I could describe minutely all our walks -and all our amusements, but it is impossible for me to say why my mind -flitted to Venice that evening. I might look about for a good reason, -but it is more honest to confess that I remember nothing about it. It -was some fifteen or sixteen years ago. - - GEORGE SAND - -Nohant, August 23, 1853 - - - - -_To SIGNORA CARLOTTA MARLIANI_ - -CONSULESSA DI SPAGNA - - -The sailors of the Adriatic do not launch a new vessel until it is -embellished with the image of the Virgin. May your name, written upon -this page, O my dear and lovely friend, be like the effigy of the divine -patron saint, which protects a fragile bark abandoned to the capricious -waves. - - GEORGE SAND - - - - -FIRST PART - - -At the time of this story, Signor Lelio was no longer in the first bloom -of youth; whether because his lungs, by dint of performing their duty -with generous zeal, had developed in such a way as to distend the -muscles of his chest, or because of the great care with which singers -look after the preservation of the organ of melody, his body, which he -jocosely called the _casket_ of his voice, had acquired a reasonable -degree of embonpoint. His leg, however, had retained all the elegance of -its shape, and the habitual grace of all his movements made him still -what the ladies, under the empire, called a _beau cavalier_. - -But if Lelio was still able to fill the post of _leading man_ on the -boards of La Fenice and La Scala, without offending good taste or the -probabilities; if his still beautiful voice and his great talent -maintained him in the first rank of Italian artists; if his abundant -locks, of a beautiful pearl-gray, and his great black eye, still full of -fire, continued to attract the glances of the gentler sex, in salons as -well as upon the stage, it is none the less true that Lelio was a -prudent man, most reserved and grave on occasion. A fact that will seem -strange to us is that, with all the charms which heaven had bestowed -upon him, with the brilliant triumphs of his honorable career, he was -not and had never been a libertine. He had, it was said, inspired great -passions; but whether because he had never shared them, or because he -had buried his romantic experiences in the oblivion of a generous -conscience, no one could say what the result had been of any of those -mysterious episodes in his life. The fact was that he had never -compromised any woman. The wealthiest and most illustrious houses of -Italy and Germany welcomed him cordially; he had never introduced -scandal or discord into any one of them. Everywhere he enjoyed the -reputation of a loyal, good-hearted man, whose virtue was beyond -reproach. - -To us artists, too, his friends and companions, he was the best and most -lovable of men. But that serene cheerfulness, that kindly charm which -characterized him in his intercourse with society, did not altogether -conceal from us a background of melancholy and the existence of a secret -sorrow of long standing. One evening, after supper, as we were smoking -under our fragrant arbor at Sainte-Marguerite, Abbé Panorio talked to -us of himself, and described the poetic impulses and heroic combats of -his own heart with a touching candor worthy of all respect. Lelio, led -on by his example and infected by the generally effusive spirit of the -party, pressed also in some degree by the abbé's questions and Beppa's -glances, confessed to us at last that his art was not the only noble -passion he had known. - -"_Ed io anchè_!" he exclaimed, with a sigh; "I too have loved, and -fought, and triumphed!" - -"Had you taken a vow of chastity, pray, as he had?" queried Beppa, with -a smile, touching the abbé's arm with the end of her black fan. - -"I never took any vow," replied Lelio; "but I have always been -irresistibly guided by a natural feeling of justice and truth. I have -never understood how one could be truly happy for a single day while -compromising another person's future. I will tell you, if you please, -the story of two periods of my life in which love played the leading -rôle, and you will understand that it cost me a little something to be, -I do not say a hero, but a man." - -"That is a very solemn beginning," said Beppa, "and I fear that your -story will resemble a French sonata! You require a musical introduction, -so wait a moment! Does this key suit you?" - -As she spoke she struck a chord or two on her lute, and played the first -measures of an _andante maestoso_ by Dusseck. - -"That is not the thing," said Lelio, stifling the notes of the lute with -Beppa's fan. "Play me rather one of those German waltzes in which Joy -and Sorrow, in a voluptuous embrace, seem to turn slowly round and -round, and to display in turn a pale tear-stained face and a radiant -brow crowned with flowers." - -"Very good!" said Beppa. "Meanwhile Cupid plays the kit, and marks time -falsely, exactly like a master of the ballet; Joy impatiently stamps her -foot to incite the torpid musician who restrains her impetuosity; -Sorrow, utterly exhausted, turns her moist eyes upon the pitiless -fiddler to urge him to slacken that incessant whirling about, and the -audience, uncertain whether to laugh or cry, concludes to go to sleep." - -And Beppa began the _ritornello_ of a sentimental waltz, playing the -measures fast and slow alternately, making the expression of her -charming face, now glistening with joy, now doleful beyond words, -conform to that ironical mode of execution, and putting forth in that -musical mockery all the energy of her artistic patriotism. - -"You are a narrow-minded creature!" said Lelio, passing his fingers over -the strings, whose vibration died away in a shrill, ear-piercing wail. - -"No German organ!" cried the fair Venetian, laughing heartily and -abandoning the instrument to him. - -"The artist's fatherland," said Lelio, "is the whole world, the great -_Bohemia_, as we say. _Per Dio_! make war if you please on Austrian -despotism, but let us respect the German waltz! Weber's waltzes, O my -friends! Beethoven's waltzes and Schubert's! Oh! listen, listen to this -poem, this drama, this scene of despair, of passion and delirious joy!" - -As he spoke, the artist touched the chords of the lute, and began to -sing with all the force of his voice and soul Beethoven's sublime -_Desire_; then, abruptly breaking off and throwing the still vibrating -instrument on the grass, he said: - -"No song ever stirred my heart like that one. We may as well confess -that our Italian music appeals only to the senses or to the over-heated -imagination; that music speaks to the heart, to the most profound and -most exquisite sentiments. I was once like you, Beppa. I resisted the -power of German genius; for a long time I closed my bodily ears and the -ears of my intelligence to these Northern melodies, which I neither -could nor would understand. But the time has come when divine -inspiration is no longer called upon to halt on the frontiers of states -by reason of the color of its uniform or the pattern of its standards. -There are in the air I know not what angels or sylphs, invisible -messengers of progress, who bring us melody and poetic thoughts from all -points of the compass. Let us not bury ourselves under our own ruins; -but let our genius spread its wings and open its arms to espouse all the -contemporaneous geniuses beyond the Alps." - -"Listen to him! how he raves!" cried Beppa, wiping her lute which was -already wet with dew; "and I took him for a reasonable man!" - -"For a cold, perhaps a selfish man, eh, Beppa?" rejoined the artist with -a melancholy air, as he sat down. "Well, I myself have at times believed -that I was such a man; for I have done some reasonable things, and I -have made some sacrifices to the demands of society. But when in the -evening the bands of the Austrian regiments wake the echoes of our great -squares and our placid canals, with airs from _Der Freischutz_ and -fragments of Beethoven's symphonies, then I find that I have tears in -abundance, and that my sacrifices have been worth but little. A new -sense seems to awake within me: the sadness of regret and a longing for -reverie, elements which seldom enter into our southern character, find -their way into my system through every pore, and I see clearly enough -that our music is incomplete, and that the art which I serve is -insufficient to express the impulses of my heart; that is why I am, as -you see, disgusted with the stage, surfeited with the excitement of -triumph, and in nowise desirous to win fresh applause by the old -methods; I would like to plunge into a life full of new emotions, and -find in the lyric drama an image of the drama of my whole life; but in -that case I should perhaps become as gloomy and despondent as a -Hamburger, and you would laugh at me without pity, Beppa! That must not -be. Let us drink, my good friends! _viva_ merry Italy and Venice the -fair!" - -He put his glass to his lips, then absent-mindedly replaced it on the -table without swallowing a drop of wine. The abbé answered him with a -sigh, Beppa pressed his hand, and after a few moments of melancholy -silence, Lelio, being urged to fulfil his promise, began his narrative -in these words: - -I am, as you know, the son of a fisherman of Chioggia. Almost all the -people along that shore have a well developed thorax and a powerful -voice. Their voices would be beautiful if they did not ruin them early -in life on their boats by trying to drown the roar of the sea and the -wind, and by drinking and smoking beyond all reason, to avoid drowsiness -and fatigue. We Chioggiotes are a fine race. It is said that a great -French painter, _Leopoldo Roberto_, is even now engaged in commemorating -our type of beauty in a picture which he allows nobody to see. - -Although I am of a reasonably robust organization, as you see, my -father, on comparing me with my brothers, deemed me so frail and sickly -that he would not teach me either to cast the net or to sail a boat. He -simply showed me how to handle the oar with both hands, to row a small -boat, and sent me to Venice to earn my living as an assistant gondolier -for hire. It was a great sorrow and humiliation to me, thus to go into -bondage, to leave my father's house, the seashore and the honorable and -perilous trade of my ancestors. But I had a fine voice, I knew a goodly -number of fragments of Ariosto and Tasso. I had in me the making of an -excellent gondolier, and with time and patience, I might earn fifty -francs a month in the service of artists and strangers. - -You do not know, Zorzi--at this point Lelio broke off his narrative and -turned to me--you have no idea how rapidly the taste and appreciation of -music and poetry develop among us common people. We had then and we -still have--although the custom threatens to die out--our troubadours -and poets, whom we call _cupids_; itinerant rhapsodists they are, and -they bring us from the central provinces inaccurate notions of the -mother-tongue, modified, I might more properly say enriched, by all the -genius of the dialects of the north and south. Men of the people, like -ourselves, endowed at once with memory and imaginative power, do not -hesitate at all to blend their curious improvisations with the creations -of the poets. Forever picking up and dropping as they pass some novel -turn of phrase, they embellish their speech and the text of their -authors with a most extraordinary confusion of idioms. We might say that -they preserve the instability of the language in the frontier provinces -and along the coast. In our ignorance we accept as decisive the -decisions of this itinerant academy; and you have often had occasion to -admire, sometimes the energy, sometimes the grotesqueness of the Italian -of our ports as rendered by the singers of the lagoons. - -On a Sunday at noon, after high mass, in the public square of Chioggia, -or in the evening, in the wine-shops on the shore, these rhapsodists, by -their recitations interspersed with bits of singing and declamation, -hold spellbound large and enthusiastic audiences. Ordinarily the _cupid_ -stands on a table, and from time to time plays a prelude or a finale of -his own composition on some sort of an instrument; one on the Calabrian -bagpipe, another on the Bergamo viol, others on the violin, flute or -guitar. The Chioggians, outwardly phlegmatic and cold, listen at first -with an impassive and almost contemptuous air, smoking vigorously; but -at the mighty lance-thrusts of Ariosto's heroes, at the death of the -paladins, at the adventures of damsels delivered and giants run through, -the audience is roused, takes fire, shouts and works itself into such a -frenzy that glasses and pipes are shivered, tables and chairs smashed, -and often the _cupid_, on the point of falling a victim to the -excitement aroused by himself, is forced to fly, while the enthusiasts -scatter through the fields, in pursuit of an imaginary ravisher, -shouting: "_Amazza! amazza_! kill the monster! kill the rascal! death to -the brigand! bravo, Astolphe! courage, my good fellow! forward! forward! -kill! kill!"--And so the Chioggians, drunk with tobacco smoke, wine and -poetry, rush aboard their boats and declaim to the waves and the winds -scattered fragments of those soul-stirring epics. - -I was the least noisy and the most attentive of these enthusiasts. As I -was very regular in my attendance at the performances, and as I always -went away silent and thoughtful, my parents concluded that I was a -docile, simple-minded youth, desirous but incapable of learning the -noble arts. They considered my voice pleasant to hear; but, as my -tendency was toward purer accentuation and less frenzied declamation -than the _cupids_ and their imitators, they decreed that, as a singer no -less than as a boatman, I was _good for the city_--thus reversing your -French saying with respect to things of small value: _good for the -country_. - -I promised to tell you of two episodes only, not the whole story of my -life. So I will not detail all the sufferings through which I passed -before attaining the age of fifteen years and a very moderate degree of -skill as a gondolier, having subsisted meanwhile on rice and water and -blows of the oar across my shoulders. The only pleasure I had was in -listening to the serenaders; and, when I had a moment's leisure, I would -run after the musicians and follow them all over the city. That pleasure -was so intense that, even if it did not prevent my sighing for my -father's house, it would have prevented me from returning to it. -However, my passion for music had reached the point of sympathetic -enjoyment only, not of a personal inclination; for my voice was just -changing and seemed to me so unpleasant when I ventured timidly to try -it, that I looked forward to no other future than that of beating the -water of the lagoons all my life, at the service of the first comer. - -My master and I often occupied the _traghetto_, or gondola stand, on the -Grand Canal in front of the Aldini Palace, near the image of _Saint -Zandegola_--a patois contraction of San Giovanni Decollato. While we -were waiting for customers, my master always slept, and it was my duty -to watch and offer to passers-by the service of our oars. Those hours, -which were often most uncomfortable in the scorching days of summer, -were delightful to me under the walls of the Aldini palace, because of a -superb female voice, accompanied by a harp, which I could hear -distinctly. The window through which those divine sounds came forth was -directly over my head, and the protruding balcony served me as a -protection against the heat of the sun. That little nook was my Eden, -and I never pass the place without a thrill at my heart as I remember -those modest joys of my boyhood. A silk curtain shaded the square -balcony of white marble, darkened by centuries and covered with -convolvulus and climbing plants, carefully tended by the fair hostess of -that palatial abode. For she was fair; I had caught a glimpse of her -sometimes on the balcony, and I had heard other gondoliers say that she -was the most amiable and most courted woman in Venice. I was then hardly -sensible of her beauty, although in Venice men of the lower classes have -eyes for women of the highest rank, and _vice versa_, so I am told. For -my own part, I was all ears; and when she appeared my heart beat fast -with joy, because her presence led me to hope that I might soon hear her -sing. - -I had also heard the gondoliers on that stand say that the instrument -with which she accompanied herself was a harp, but their descriptions -were so confused that it was impossible for me to form a clear idea of -that instrument. Its tones enchanted me, and I was consumed with the -longing to see it rather than her. I drew a fanciful picture of it in my -mind, for I had been told that it was of pure gold and larger than I -was, and my master Masino had seen one decorated with the bust of a -beautiful woman who seemed about to fly away, for she had wings. So I -saw the harp in my dreams, sometimes in the shape of a siren, sometimes -in that of a bird; sometimes I fancied that I saw a beautiful boat -decked out with flags pass by, its silk cordage giving forth melodious -sounds. Once I dreamed that I found a harp among the reeds and the -seaweed; but, just as I put them aside to seize it, I woke with a start -and could never remember its shape distinctly. - - -[Illustration: _NELLO ENTERS THE ALDINI PALACE._ - -_While my master was at the wineshop, I climbed -on the awning of my gondola, and thence to the sill -of a window on the lower floor; then I grasped the -balcony rail, drew myself up, climbed over it and -found myself behind the curtain._] - - -My curiosity on this subject took such complete possession of my young -brain that one day I yielded to a temptation I had conquered many times. -While my master was at the wineshop, I climbed on the awning of my -gondola, and thence to the sill of a window on the lower floor; then I -grasped the balcony rail, drew myself up, climbed over it and found -myself behind the curtain. - -I had before me the interior of a sumptuously furnished cabinet; but the -only object that struck my eye was the harp, standing silent amid the -rest of the furniture, above which it towered proudly. The ray of -sunlight which shone into the cabinet when I drew the curtain partly -aside fell upon the gilding of the instrument, and made the beautiful -carved swan that surmounted it gleam brightly. I stood motionless with -admiration, never wearying of examining its slightest details, the -graceful frame, which reminded me of the prow of a gondola, the slender -chords, which seemed to be of spun gold, the gleaming copper, and the -satin-lined wooden case, whereon were painted birds, flowers, and -butterflies, richly colored and of an exquisite workmanship. - -However, amid all those superb objects, the shape and uses of which were -quite unfamiliar to me, my mind was still beset by doubt. Was I not -mistaken? Was it really the harp that I was looking at? I determined to -make sure of it; I entered the cabinet and placed an awkward, trembling -hand on the strings. O rapture! they answered to my touch. Impelled by -indescribable excitement, I made all those resonant voices speak, at -random and in a sort of frenzy, and I do not believe that the most -skilful and most skilfully led orchestra has ever, since that day, -afforded me so much pleasure as the horrible confusion of sounds with -which I filled Signora Aldini's apartment. - -But my joy was not of long duration. A servant who was at work in the -adjoining rooms ran to investigate the noise, and was so enraged to find -that a little clodhopper in rags had stolen in that way and was -abandoning himself to the love of art with such shocking disregard of -the proprieties, that he set about expelling me by beating me out with -his broom. I did not care to be dismissed in that way, and prudently -retired to the balcony, intending to go away as I had come. But before I -could climb over the balustrade, the servant pounced upon me, and I -found myself confronted by the alternative of being beaten or turning a -ridiculous somersault. I adopted a violent course, namely, to avoid the -blow by stooping quickly, grasping my adversary by the legs, and thus -throwing him forward with his breast against the balcony rail. Then to -lift him up and throw him into the canal was the affair of a moment. -That is the game that the children practise on one another at Chioggia. -But I had no time to reflect that the balcony was twenty feet above the -water, and that the poor devil of a footman might not know how to swim. - -Luckily for him and for me he came to the surface at once and clung to -the boats at the _traghetto_. I was horribly frightened when I tossed -him over; but, as soon as I saw that he was safe, I began to think about -making my escape; for he was roaring with rage and would surely set all -the pack of servants in the Aldini Palace upon me. I passed through the -first door I saw, and, hurrying through the corridors, was about to go -downstairs, when I heard indistinct voices apparently coming toward me. -I ran upstairs again in hot haste, and took refuge under the eaves, -where I hid in a garret among old worm-eaten pictures and discarded -furniture. - -I remained there two days and two nights, without a mouthful of food, -afraid to venture forth into the midst of my enemies. There were so many -people and so much going and coming in that house that one could not -take a step without meeting some one. Through the little round windows -in the garret I heard the remarks of the servants in the corridors of -the floor below. They talked about me almost continuously, indulged in a -thousand conjectures concerning my disappearance, and promised to give -me a sound thrashing if they succeeded in catching me. I also heard my -master on his gondola expressing surprise at my absence, and exulting at -the thought of my return, with no less kindly designs. I was brave and -strong; but I realized that I should be overborne by numbers. The -prospect of being beaten by my master troubled me but little; that was -one of the hazards of being an apprentice, which involved no disgrace. -But the idea of being chastised by servants was so horrifying to me that -I preferred to die of hunger. And my adventure came very near ending in -that way. At fifteen years one does not readily endure starvation diet. -An old lady's-maid, who came to the garret in search of a runaway -pigeon, found instead of her fugitive the poor _barcarolino_, -unconscious and almost dead, at the foot of an old canvas representing a -Saint Cecilia. The point that impressed me most profoundly in my -distress was that the saint had in her arms a harp of antique shape, -which I had abundance of leisure to contemplate amid the torments of -hunger, and the sight of which became so hateful to me that for a long -time thereafter I could not endure the sight or sound of that fatal -instrument. - -The good creature brought me back to life, and interested Signora Aldini -in my fate. I speedily recovered from the effects of my fasting, and my -persecutor, appeased by that expiation, accepted my acknowledgment of my -wrong-doing, and my somewhat abrupt, but sincere expression of regret. -My father, on learning from my master that I had disappeared, had come -to Venice. He frowned when Signora Aldini expressed a purpose to take me -into her service. He was a rough-mannered man, but proud and -independent. In his view it was bad enough that my delicate constitution -condemned me to live in the city. I was of too good a family to be a -footman, and although gondoliers enjoyed important privileges in private -establishments, there was a well-marked distinction in rank between -public gondoliers and _gondolieri di casa_. These last were better -dressed, to be sure, and shared the comforts of patrician life, but they -were ranked as servants, and there was no such blemish in my family. -However, Signora Aldini was so gracious and kindly that my excellent -father, twisting his red cap about in his hands in his embarrassment, -and constantly pulling his pipe from his pocket, as a matter of habit, -could find nothing to reply to her affable words and her generous -promises. He determined to leave me free to choose, expecting that I -would refuse. But I, although I was utterly disgusted with the harp, -could think of nothing but music. Signora Aldini exerted a magnetic -influence over me which I cannot describe; it was a genuine passion, but -an artistic passion, absolutely platonic and philharmonic. In the small -room on the lower floor to which I had been taken--for I had several -attacks of fever as a result of my fasting--I could hear her singing, -and on those occasions she accompanied herself on the harpsichord, for -she played equally well on several instruments. Intoxicated by her -voice, I could not even understand my fathers scruples, and I accepted -without hesitation the post of second gondolier at the Aldini palace. - -It was good form in those days to be _well equipped_ with gondoliers; -that is to say, that, as the gondola in Venice corresponds to the -carriage elsewhere, so gondoliers are at the same time luxuries and -necessaries, like horses. All the gondolas being practically alike, -according to the sumptuary law of the Republic, which required that they -should all be draped in black, persons of wealth could make themselves -noticeable among the multitude only by the figures and costumes of their -oarsmen. The fashionable patrician's gondola would be propelled, at the -stern, by a muscular man, of a masculine type of beauty; at the bow by a -negro dressed in some unusual style, or by a fair-haired native, a sort -of page or jockey, clad with taste and elegance, and placed there as an -ornament, like the figure-head of a ship. - -I was perfectly adapted to that honorable post. I was a genuine child of -the lagoons, of fair complexion, ruddy-cheeked, very strong, with a -somewhat feminine figure, my head and feet and hands being remarkably -small, my chest broad and muscular, my arms and neck white and round and -sinewy. Add to this, amber-colored hair, fine and abundant, and -naturally curly; imagine a charming costume, half Figaro and half -Cherubino, legs generally bare, sky-blue trunk hose kept up by a scarlet -silk sash, and the breast covered simply by a shirt of embroidered -linen, whiter than snow; then you will have an idea of the poor actor in -embryo who was called in those days Nello, by contraction of his true -name, Daniele Gemello. - -As it is the fate of small dogs to be petted by idiotic masters and -beaten by jealous servants, the ordinary lot of those in my position was -a mixture of unbounded tolerance on the part of the former, and of -brutal hatred on the part of the latter. Luckily for me, Providence cast -my lines in a blessed spot: Bianca Aldini was the incarnation of -kindness, indulgence, and charity. Widowed at twenty, she passed her -life helping the poor and comforting the afflicted. Where there were -tears to be wiped away, or alms to be bestowed, you would soon see her -hurrying thither in her gondola, with her little four-year-old daughter -in her lap; a fascinating miniature, so tiny, so pretty, and always so -daintily dressed that it seemed as if her mother's lovely hands alone, -in all the world, were soft and gentle and tapering enough to touch her -without crushing or bruising her. Signora Aldini herself was always -dressed with a taste and elegance which all the other ladies in Venice -tried in vain to equal; she was immensely rich, loved luxury, and spent -half of her income in the gratification of her artistic tastes and her -patrician habits. The other half went in almsgiving, in favors bestowed, -in benefactions of every sort. Although that was a sufficiently generous -_widow's mite_, as she called it, she artlessly accused herself of -lacking energy, of not doing all that she ought; and, being moved to -repentance rather than pride by her charity, she determined every day -that she would leave society and devote herself to her own salvation. -From this mixture of feminine weakness and Christian virtue you can see -that she had not a strong mind, and that her intelligence was no more -enlightened than the period and the social circle in which she lived -demanded. For all that, I do not know that a better or more delightful -woman ever lived. Other women, jealous of her beauty, her wealth and her -virtue, avenged themselves by declaring that she was narrow-minded and -ignorant. There was some truth in that charge, but Bianca was a most -lovable woman, none the less. She had a reserve stock of common sense -which prevented her from ever being ridiculous; and as for her lack of -education, the ingenuous modesty which resulted from it was an -additional charm. I have seen the most enlightened and most -serious-minded men gathered about her, never weary of conversing with -her. - -Living thus at church and at the theatre, in the poor man's garret and -at sumptuous palaces, she imposed gratitude or cheerfulness upon one and -all. Her disposition was even and playful, and the character of her -beauty was enough to shed serenity all about her. She was of medium -height, as white as milk, and fresh as a flower; all was gentleness and -youth and kindliness. Just as one would have looked in vain for a sharp -angle in her own graceful person, so there was never the slightest -asperity in her temper, the slightest break in her goodness. As active -as the true spirit of devotion, and at the same time as inert as -Venetian indolence, she never passed more than two hours during the day -in the same place; but in her palace she was always lying on a sofa, and -out-of-doors she was always stretched out in her gondola. She said that -she was weak on her legs, and she never went up or down stairs without -being supported by two persons; in her own apartments she always leaned -on the arm of Salomé, a young Jewess, who waited upon her and acted as -her companion. People said that Signora Aldini was lame as a result of -the fall of a piece of furniture which her husband had pushed upon her -in a fit of anger, and which had broken her leg. Although for more than -two years she leaned on my arm as she went in and out of her palace, I -never discovered the exact truth of the matter, she took so much pains -and exerted so much skill to conceal her infirmity. - -Despite her benevolence and sweetness of disposition, Bianca lacked -neither discrimination nor prudence in the choice of her associates; I -can safely say that I have never seen in any other place so many -excellent people together. If you detect in me any kindness of heart, -any praiseworthy pride, you must attribute it to my stay in that house. -It was impossible not to contract the habit there of thinking, speaking -and acting rightly; the servants were honest and hard-working, the -friends faithful and devoted; even the lovers--for I cannot deny that -there were lovers--were loyal and honorable. I had several masters while -I was there; of them all the signora was the least imperious. However, -they were all kind, or at all events just. Salomé, who was the -executive officer of the household, maintained order with some little -severity; she seldom smiled, and the great arch of her eyebrows was -rarely divided into two quarter circles over her long black eyes. But -she had much patience, a keen sense of equity, and a searching glance -which never misinterpreted sincerity. Mandola, the chief gondolier and -my immediate superior, was a Lombard giant, whose huge black whiskers -and muscular frame might have led one to take him for Polyphemus. -Nevertheless he was the mildest, calmest and most humane peasant who -ever came down from his mountains to the civilization of great cities. -Lastly, Count Lanfranchi, the handsomest man in the whole Republic, whom -we had to row about every evening in a closed gondola with Signora -Aldini, from ten o'clock to midnight, was the most gracious and amiable -nobleman whom I have ever met. - -I never knew anything of the late Signor Aldini except a full-length -portrait, at the entrance to the gallery, in a superb frame, which stood -out a little from the wall, and seemed to command a long file of -ancestors, each darker and more venerable than the last, who receded, in -chronological order, into the obscure depths of that vast room. Torquato -Aldini was dressed in the latest fashion of his time, with a shirt-frill -of Flanders lace and a morning coat of apple-green cloth with bright red -frogs. He was beautifully frizzled and powdered. But, despite the -elegance of that pastoral undress, I could not look at him without -lowering my eyes; for there was upon his yellowish-brown face, in his -blazing black eye, on his sneering and disdainful mouth, in his -impassive attitude, and even in the dictatorial gesture of his long, -thin, diamond-laden hand, such an expression of overbearing arrogance -and inflexible harshness as I had never met with under the roof of that -palace. It was a beautiful portrait, and the portrait of a handsome -young man. He died at twenty-five, from wounds received in a duel with -a Foscari, who dared to say that he was of a better family. He had left -behind him a great reputation for courage and decision of character, but -it was whispered that he had made his wife very unhappy, and the -servants did not seem to regret him. He had kept them in such a state of -dread that they never passed that picture after dark, startlingly true -to life as it was, without uncovering as they would have done before -their former master in person. - -His hardness of heart must have caused the signora much suffering, and -have disgusted her with the married state, for she refused to enter into -a new contract, and rejected the best _partis_ in the Republic. And yet -she evidently had a yearning for love, for she tolerated Count -Lanfranchi's assiduous attentions and seemed to deny him none of the -joys of marriage except the indissoluble oath. After a year, the count, -abandoning all hope of inspiring in her the necessary confidence for -such an engagement as he desired, sought fortune elsewhere, and -confessed to her that a certain wealthy heiress gave him more reason to -hope. The signora generously gave him his liberty at once. She seemed -depressed and ill for a few days, but at the end of a month the Prince -of Montalegri took the place in the gondola left vacant by the -ungrateful Lanfranchi, and for another year Mandola and I rowed that -amiable and seemingly fortunate couple about the lagoons. - -I was very deeply attached to the signora. I could imagine nothing on -earth lovelier and better than she was. When she turned her sweet, -almost motherly glance upon me, when she smilingly said a pleasant word -to me--no others could come from her lovely lips--I was so proud and -happy that, to afford her a moment's pleasure, I would have thrown -myself under the _Bucentaur's_ sharp keel. When she gave me an order, I -flew; when she leaned on me, my heart beat fast for joy; when, to call -the Prince of Montalegri's attention to my fine hair, she gently placed -her snow-white hand on my head, I flushed with pride. And yet I was not -jealous as I plied my oar with the prince seated beside her. I replied -gayly to the kindly jests which the gentlemen of Venice love to exchange -with the gondoliers, to test their wit and gift of repartee; and, -despite the extraordinary liberty accorded to the challenged boatman -under such circumstances, I had never felt the slightest inclination to -make a bitter retort to the prince. He was an excellent young man; I was -grateful to him for consoling the signora for Signor Lanfranchi's -desertion. I had not that ridiculous humility which grovels before the -privileges of high rank. We hardly recognize those privileges in this -country, in the matter of love, and we recognized them even less in -those days. There was not so much difference in age between the signora -and myself that I might not fall in love with her. The fact is that I -should be sorely embarrassed to-day to give a name to my feeling for her -at that time. It was love, perhaps, but love as pure as my age; and -tranquil love, because I was neither ambitious nor covetous. - -In addition to my youth, my zeal in her service, and my mild and -cheerful disposition, my love for music had pleased the signora -particularly: it delighted her to see my emotion at the sound of her -beautiful voice, and whenever she sang she sent for me. In her affable, -unceremonious way, she would bid me come into her cabinet and permit me -to sit beside Salomé. It seemed to me that she would have liked to see -that inflexible task-mistress lay aside a little of her habitual -austerity with me. But Salomé was to me a much more awe-inspiring -person than the signora, and I was never tempted to be bold when she was -present. - -One day the signora asked me if I had any voice. I answered that I used -to have, but that I had lost it. She wished me to try it before her. I -objected, but she insisted upon it, and I had no choice but to yield. I -was in dire distress, and convinced that it would be impossible for me -to utter a sound, for it was fully a year since I had thought of such a -thing. I was then seventeen years old. My voice had come back, but I had -no suspicion of it. I put my head between my hands and tried to remember -a passage from the _Jerusalem_. By a mere chance I hit upon the passage -which describes Olinde's love for Sophronia, and ends with this line: -_Brama assai, poco spera, nulla chiede_. Thereupon, summoning courage, -and yelling with all my strength, as if I were in mid-ocean, I made the -thunderstruck hangings resound with that plaintive, sonorous lament, to -which we sing on the lagoons of the exploits of Roland and the loves of -Herminie. I had no suspicion of the effect I should produce. Expecting -to hear the hoarse squeak which my throat produced when I last made the -experiment, I nearly fell over backward when the organ which I -unknowingly concealed within me manifested its power. The pictures -hanging on the wall trembled, the signora smiled, and the strings of the -harp replied to that resounding voice with a long vibration. - -"_Santo Dio_!" cried Salomé, dropping her work and putting her hands -over her ears, "the lion of St. Mark's would roar no louder!" - -The little Aldini, who was playing on the floor, was so terrified that -she began to shriek and weep. - -I cannot say what the signora did. I only know that she and the child -and Salomé and the harp and the cabinet all disappeared, and that I ran -at full speed through the streets, having no idea what demon urged me -on, until I reached _Quinta-Valle_. There I jumped into a boat and rowed -to the great plain which is now called the Field of Mars, and is still -the most deserted spot in the city. As soon as I was alone and free, I -began to sing with all the strength of my lungs. Miraculous! I had a -voice of more power and range than any of the _cupids_ I used to admire -at Chioggia. Hitherto I had supposed that I had not power enough, and I -really had too much. It overflowed--it overwhelmed me. I threw myself -face downward in the long grass, and, yielding to a paroxysm of -delirious joy, burst into tears. O the first tears of the artist! They -only can be compared in sweetness, or in bitterness, with the first -tears of the lover. - -Then I began to sing again, and repeated a hundred times in succession -the scattered fragments I had remembered. As I sang on, the -ear-splitting harshness of my voice wore off, and I felt that it became -more flexible and tractable every moment. I felt no fatigue, the more I -practised, the easier my respiration seemed. Then I ventured to try some -of the operatic arias and romanzas which I had heard the signora sing in -the past two years. In those two years I had worked hard and learned a -great deal without suspecting it. Method had found its way into my head, -by virtue and by instinct, and musical feeling into my heart by -intuition and sympathy. I have very great respect for study, but I must -admit that no singer ever studied less than myself. I was blessed with a -marvellous readiness and memory. If I had once heard a passage, I could -repeat it instantly and accurately. I tried that experiment that very -day, and succeeded in singing from beginning to end the most difficult -pieces in Signora Aldini's repertory. - -The approach of night warned me to allow my excitement to subside. Then -for the first time I realized that I had absented myself from my duties -for a whole day, and I returned to the palace, embarrassed and repenting -bitterly of my fault. It was the first of that sort I had committed, and -I dreaded nothing so much as a rebuke from the signora, however mild it -might be. She was at supper, and I crept timidly behind her chair. I -never waited on her at table, for I had retained the pride of a true -Chioggian, and had surrendered none of the exemptions attached to my -privileged post. But, seeking to repair my fault by an act of humility, -I took from Salomé's hands the porcelain dish she was about to offer -her, and put out my hand awkwardly enough. Signora Aldini pretended at -first not to notice, and allowed me to serve her thus for several -minutes; then, as she stealthily looked up and met my piteous glance, -she suddenly burst out laughing, and threw herself back in her chair. - -"Your ladyship is spoiling him," said the stern Salomé, repressing an -imperceptible desire to share her mistress's merriment. - -"Why should I scold him?" replied the signora. "He frightened himself -this morning, and ran away to punish himself, poor boy! I will bet that -he has eaten nothing to-day. Go to your supper, Nellino. I forgive you -on condition that you will sing no more." - -This kindly sarcasm seemed very bitter to me. It was the first one I had -ever noticed; for, despite all the opportunities offered for the -development of my vanity, that was a sentiment with which I was not as -yet acquainted. But pride awoke in me with power, and by making sport of -my voice, she seemed to deny my heart and to attack my very life. - -From that day the lessons which the signora unconsciously gave me, by -practising in my presence, became more and more profitable to me. Every -evening, as soon as my duties were at an end, I went to the Field of -Mars to practise, and I knew that I was making progress. Soon the -signora's lessons were no longer sufficient for me. She sang for her own -pleasure, displaying a superb indifference for study, and making no -effort to perfect herself. I had a most immoderate longing to go to the -theatre; but, during the whole time of the performance, it was my lot to -watch the gondola, as Mandola enjoyed the privilege of taking a seat in -the pit or listening in the corridors. At last, however, I induced him -to let me take his place during a single act of the opera at La Fenice. -The opera was the _Secret Marriage_. I will not attempt to describe my -feelings: I nearly went mad, and, breaking the promise I had made my -companion, I allowed him to cool his heels in the gondola, and never -thought of going out until I found that the hall was empty and in -darkness. - -After that I felt an irresistible, imperious craving to go to the -theatre every night. I dared not ask Signora Aldini's permission; I was -afraid that she would again make fun of my unfortunate passion--as she -called it--for music. However, I must go to La Fenice or die. I had the -reprehensible thought of leaving the signora's service and earning my -living as a _facchino_ during the day, so that I might have both time -and means to go to the theatre. I calculated that with the small sum I -had saved at the Aldini Palace, and by reducing my expenditure for food -and clothing to what was absolutely necessary, I might be able to -gratify my passion. I also thought of entering the employ of the theatre -as a scene-shifter, supernumerary, or lamp-lighter; the most humble post -would have seemed delightful to me, provided that I could listen to -music every day. At last I determined to open my heart to the -good-humored Montalegri. He had heard of my musical misadventure. He -began by laughing; then, as I boldly persisted, he demanded, as a -condition of his assistance, that I should let him hear my voice. I -hesitated a long while; I was afraid that he would discourage me by his -jests, and although I had no definite plans for the future, I felt that -to deprive me of the hope of being able to sing some day would be like -tearing out my life. However, I submitted to the inevitable: I sang in a -trembling voice a fragment of one of the airs which I had heard a single -time at the theatre. My emotion won the prince's heart; I saw in his -eyes that he took pleasure in listening to me; I took courage and sang -better and better. He raised his hands two or three times to applaud, -but checked himself for fear of interrupting me; then I sang really -well, and when I had finished, the prince, who was a genuine dilettante, -almost kissed me, and praised me in the warmest terms. He took me to the -signora and presented my petition, which was granted on the spot. But -she too wanted me to sing, and I would not consent. My proud persistence -in refusing astonished Signora Aldini without irritating her. She -thought that she would overcome it later, but she did not easily -succeed. The more I attended the theatre, and the more I practised and -improved, the more conscious I became of all that I still lacked, and -the more I dreaded to allow others to hear me and judge me before I was -sure of myself. At last one superb moonlight night, on the Lido, as the -signora, by lengthening her usual row, had made me miss the theatre and -my hour of solitary practice, I was suddenly seized with a longing to -sing, and I yielded to the inspiration. The signora and her lover -listened to me in silence; and, when I had finished, they did not -address a word to me, either of praise or blame. Mandola alone, having -the keen taste for music of a true Lombard, cried several times when he -heard my youthful tenor: "_Corpo del diavolo! che buon basso_!" - -I was a little hurt by my mistress's heedlessness or indifference. I -knew that I had sung well enough to deserve a word of praise from her -mouth. Nor did I understand the prince's coldness after the praise he -had lavished on me two months earlier. I learned afterward that my -mistress was amazed by my talent and my powers, but that she had -determined to seem unmoved by my first attempt, to punish me for making -her beg so long. - -I took the lesson to heart, and a few days later, when she called on me -to sing while she was in the gondola, I complied with a good grace. She -was alone, lying on the cushions of the gondola, and seemed to be in a -melancholy frame of mind, which was by no means usual with her. She did -not speak a word to me during the row; but when we returned and I -offered my arm to assist her up the steps of the palace, she said these -words to me, which left me in a strangely excited state: - -"Nello, you have done me a vast deal of good. I thank you." - -On the days following, I myself offered to sing. She seemed to accept my -offer with gratitude. The heat was most intense and the theatres were -closed; the signora said that she was ill; but what made the most -impression on me was the fact that the prince, who was usually so -assiduous in his attendance, had ceased to come with her oftener than -once in two or three or even four evenings, I thought that he too was -beginning to be unfaithful and I grieved for my poor mistress. I could -not understand her obstinacy in refusing to marry; it seemed most unfair -to me that Montalegri, who seemed to be so kind and gentle, should be -sacrificed to the sins of the late Torquato Aldini. On the other hand, I -could not understand why so sweet and lovely a woman should have for -lovers only base speculators who were more covetous of her fortune than -attached to her person, and sickened of the latter as soon as they -despaired of obtaining the former. - -These thoughts engrossed me so completely for several days that, -notwithstanding my profound respect for my mistress, I could not refrain -from communicating my ideas to Mandola. - -"Don't make that mistake," he replied; "what has happened this time is -just the opposite of what happened with Lanfranchi. The signora is sick -of the prince and invents every day some new excuse to prevent his -coming with her. What is the reason? That I cannot guess, for we see her -all the time and know that she is alone, that she has no rendezvous with -anyone. Perhaps she is turning religious altogether, and means to cut -loose from society." - -That same evening I started to sing to the signora a hymn to the Virgin; -but she interrupted me instantly, saying that she had no desire to -sleep, and asked for the loves of Armide and Renaud. - -"He made a mistake," said Mandola, who had a certain shrewdness of his -own, pretending to apologize for me. I changed my selection, and was -listened to with attention. - -I soon discovered that by singing in the open air and while the gondola -was in motion, I tired myself a good deal, and that my voice was -suffering. I consulted a teacher of music who came to the palace to give -lessons to little Alezia Aldini, then six years old. He told me that, if -I continued to sing out-of-doors, I should ruin my voice before the end -of the year. That threat frightened me so that I resolved to sing no -more under those conditions. But on the next day the signora asked me, -with such a melancholy air, with such a sweet glance and such pale -cheeks, to sing the barcarole from _La Biondina_, that I had not the -heart to deny her the only pleasure that she had seemed capable of -enjoying for some time past. - -It was evident that she was growing thin and losing her bloom; she kept -the prince more and more at a distance. She passed her life in the -gondola, and even neglected the poor a little. She seemed to be giving -way to a profound depression the cause of which we sought in vain. - -There was one week when she apparently tried to divert her thoughts. She -surrounded herself with company, and in the evening her gondola was -attended by several others in which she placed her friends and the -musicians hired to sing for them. Once she asked me to sing. I declined, -alleging my unfitness to perform in the presence of professional -musicians and numerous _dilettanti_. She insisted, gently at first, then -with some irritation; I continued to refuse, and at last she ordered me, -in a most imperative tone, to obey her. It was the first time in her -life that she had lost her temper. And I, instead of reflecting that it -was her illness which had changed her disposition thus, and humoring -her, yielded to the suggestion of invincible pride, and declared that I -was not her slave, that I had hired myself to her to row her gondola and -not to entertain her guests; and, in a word, that I had nearly ruined my -voice for her amusement, and that she rewarded me so ill for my -self-sacrifice that I would sing no more for her or anyone else. She -made no reply; the friends who accompanied her, amazed at my audacity, -held their peace. A few minutes later, Salomé uttered a sharp -exclamation and seized little Alezia, who, having fallen asleep in her -mother's arms, nearly fell into the water. The signora had fainted some -moments before, and no one had noticed it. - -I dropped my oar; I talked at random; I went to the signora's side; I -should have done some insane thing or other, if the prudent Salomé had -not imperiously sent me back to my post. The signora came to herself and -we made haste back to the palace. But the company was surprised and -shocked, the music was all awry; and, for my own part, I was in such -despair and terror, that my trembling hands could not hold the oar. I -lost my wits, I ran into all the other gondolas. Mandola swore at me; -but I, deaf to his warnings, turned every moment to look at Signora -Aldini, whose pale face seemed, in the moonlight, to bear the stamp of -death. - -She passed a bad night; the next day she was feverish and kept her bed. -Salomé refused to admit me. In spite of her refusal I stole into the -bedroom and dropped on my knees beside the signora, weeping bitterly. -She held out her hand, which I covered with kisses, and told me that I -had done right to resist her. - -"I have been exacting, capricious and cruel for some time past," she -added with an angelic sweetness. "You must forgive me, Nello; I am ill, -and I feel that I cannot control my temper as usual. I forget that you -are not destined to remain a gondolier, and that a brilliant future is -in store for you. Forgive me for this too; my friendship for you is so -great that I had a selfish desire to keep you with me, and to bury your -talent in this humble and obscure position which is ruining your -prospects. You defended your independence and your dignity and you did -well. Henceforth you shall be free, you shall study music; I will spare -no pains to keep your voice unharmed and to develop your talent; you -shall perform no other service for me than such as is dictated by -affection and gratitude." - -I swore that I would serve her all my life; that I would rather die than -leave her; and, in truth, my attachment to her was so deep and so pure -that I did not consider that I was taking a rash oath. - -She was better after that, and insisted on my taking my first lessons in -singing. She was present, and seemed to take the keenest interest. In -the intervals between the lessons, she made me study and recite to her -the elementary principles of music, of which I had not the slightest -idea, although I had instinctively conformed to them when I sang -naturally. - -My progress was rapid. I ceased to do hard work of any kind. The signora -pretended that the double movement caused by the two oars in alternation -tired her, and Mandola's wages were doubled so that he might not -complain of having to do all the work alone. As for myself, I was always -in the gondola, but I sat in the bow, occupied solely in looking into my -mistress's eyes to divine what I should do to please her. Her lovely -eyes were very sad--very pensive. Her health improved at times, then -became worse again. That was my only sorrow, but it was very keen. - -She lost her strength more and more, and the assistance of our arms was -no longer sufficient when she went upstairs. It became Mandola's duty to -carry her like a child, as I carried little Alezia. That young lady grew -more beautiful every day; but her style of beauty and her temperament -made her the exact opposite of her mother. Alezia was as dark as her -mother was fair. Her hair already fell to her knees in two heavy ebony -braids; her little, soft, round arms stood forth like those of a young -Moor against her silk clothing, always white as snow; for she was -consecrated to the Virgin. As for her temperament, it was very strange -for one of her years. I have never seen a child so grave and distrustful -and silent. She seemed to have inherited the haughty nature of Signor -Torquato. She was never on familiar terms with anyone; she never used -the familiar words of address with any of us. A caress from Salomé she -seemed to consider an insult, and the very utmost I could obtain, by -dint of carrying her, waiting upon her and flattering her, was -permission to kiss once a week the tips of her little pink fingers, of -which she was already as careful as the most coquettish woman could have -been. She was very cold to her mother, and passed long hours seated by -her side in the gondola, with her eyes fixed on the water, silent, -apparently insensible to everything, and as dreamy as a statue. But if -the signora ventured to reprove her ever so mildly, or if she went to -bed because of an attack of fever, the little one would fly into one of -those paroxysms of frantic despair which aroused fears for her life or -her reason. - -One day she fainted in my arms because Mandola, who was carrying her -mother, slipped on one of the steps and fell with her. The signora was -slightly hurt, and from that day was unwilling to trust the skill of the -Lombard giant. She asked me if I were strong enough to take his place. I -was then at the height of my muscular development, and I told her that I -could carry four women like herself and eight children like hers. After -that I always carried her, for her strength did not return up to the -time that I left her. - -The time soon came when the signora seemed to be less light and the -staircase harder to ascend. It was not because her weight was -increasing, but because my strength failed me as soon as I took her in -my arms. At first I did not understand it; then I reproached myself -bitterly; but my emotion was insurmountable. That willowy and voluptuous -figure which abandoned itself to me, that charming face almost touching -mine, that alabaster arm around my bare and burning neck, that perfumed -hair mingling with mine--it was too much for a lad of seventeen. It was -impossible for her not to feel the hurried beating of my heart, and read -in my eyes the disturbance that she caused in my senses. "I tire you," -she would sometimes say with a languishing air. I could not reply to -that sarcasm; my head would begin to whirl, and I was forced to run away -as soon as I had placed her in her chair. One day it happened that -Salomé was not, as usual, in her cabinet to receive her. I had some -difficulty in arranging the cushions so that she could sit comfortably. -My arms met around her waist. I found myself at her feet, my dizzy head -resting on her knees. She ran her fingers through my hair. The sudden -quivering of that hand revealed to me that of which I had had no -conception. I was not the only one who was moved; I was not the only one -on the point of giving way. We were no longer servant and mistress, -gondolier and signora; we were a young man and a young woman who loved -each other. A sudden light flashed through my mind and darted from my -eyes. She hastily pushed me away, and exclaimed, in a stifled voice: -"_Go_!" I obeyed, but as a conqueror. I was no longer the servant -receiving an order, but the lover making a sacrifice. - -Thereupon blind desire took possession of my whole being. I did not -reflect; I felt neither fear nor scruple nor doubt. I had but one fixed -idea, to be alone with Bianca. But that was more difficult than one -might presume from her independent position. It seemed as if Salomé -divined the danger, and had taken upon herself the task of protecting -her mistress from it. She never left her, except sometimes at night when -little Alezia wanted to go to bed at the hour when her mother went out -in the gondola. At such times Mandola inevitably accompanied us on the -lagoons. I saw plainly enough, by the signora's expression and her -uneasiness, that she could not help desiring a tête-à-tête with me; -but she was too weak either to seek it or to avoid it. I did not lack -boldness or resolution, but not for anything under heaven would I have -compromised her; and furthermore, so long as I had not actually won a -victory in that delicate condition of affairs, my rôle might well be -supremely ridiculous, even contemptible, in the eyes of the signora's -other servants. - -Luckily honest Mandola, who was not devoid of penetration, had for me an -affection which never wavered. I should not be surprised, although he -never gave me the right to assert it, if love had sometimes made a soft -heart beat fast beneath that rough bark, when he carried the signora in -his arms. It was extremely imprudent for a young woman to betray the -secret of her love-affairs to two young men of our age, and almost -flaunt them in our faces; and it was impossible for us to be witnesses -of the good fortune of other men, for two years, without being unduly -tempted. However that may be, I find it difficult to believe that -Mandola would have detected so readily what was taking place in my -heart, if something of the same sort had not taken place in his. One -evening, as I sat at the bow of the gondola, lost in thought, my face -hidden in my hands, waiting for the signora to send for us, he said to -me: "_Nello! Nello_!!!"--nothing more, but in a tone which seemed to me -to mean so much that I raised my head and looked at him with a sort of -terror, as if my fate were in his hands.--He stifled something like a -sigh, as he added the popular saying: "_Sara quel che sara_!" - -"What do you mean?" I cried, rising and grasping his arm. - -"Nello! Nello!" he repeated, shaking his head. At that moment they came -to tell me to go up and bring the signora to the gondola; but Mandola's -meaning glance followed me up the steps and moved me strangely. - -That same day Mandola applied to Signora Aldini for a week's leave of -absence, to go and see his sick father. Bianca seemed surprised and -dismayed by the request; but she granted it at once, adding: "But who -will row my gondola?"--"Nello," Mandola replied, watching me closely. -"But he cannot row alone," rejoined the signora. "No matter, take me -home, to-morrow we will look for a temporary substitute. Go to see your -father, and take good care of him; I will pray for him." - -The next day the signora sent for me, and asked me if I had made -inquiries for a gondolier. I replied only by an audacious smile. The -signora turned pale and said to me in a trembling voice: "You will -attend to it to-morrow; I shall not go out to-day." - -I realized my mistake; but the signora had shown more fear than anger, -and my hope augmented my insolence. Toward evening I went and asked her -if I should bring the gondola to the steps. She replied coldly: "I told -you this morning that I should not go out." I did not lose courage. "The -weather has changed, signora," I said, "the wind is as warm as the -sirocco. It is fine weather for you to-night." She bestowed a withering -glance upon me, saying: "I didn't ask you what the weather is. How long -has it been your place to advise me?" The battle was on, I did not -retreat. "Since you have seemed disposed to allow yourself to die," I -replied vehemently. She seemed to yield to some magnetic force; for she -languidly dropped her head on her hand, and in a faint voice bade me -bring the gondola. - -I carried her down to it. Salomé attempted to accompany her. I took it -upon myself to say to her in an imperative tone that her mistress -ordered her to remain with Signora Alezia. I saw the blood come and go -in the signora's cheeks as I took the oar and eagerly pushed against the -marble steps which seemed to flee behind us. - -When I was a few rods from the palace, it seemed to me that I had -conquered the world, and that my victory was assured, all inconvenient -witnesses being out of the way. I rowed furiously out into the middle of -the lagoons, without turning my head, without speaking a word, without -stopping for breath. I had the appearance of a lover carrying off his -mistress much more than of a gondolier rowing his employer. When we were -quite alone, I dropped my oar and let the boat drift; but at that point -all my courage abandoned me; it was impossible for me to speak to the -signora, I dared not even look at her. She gave me no encouragement, and -I rowed her back to the palace, mortified enough to have resumed the -trade of boatman without obtaining the reward I hoped for. - -Salomé showed some temper with me, and humiliated me several times, -accusing me of having a surly and preoccupied air. I could never say a -word to the signora without a rebuke from the maid, who always declared -that I did not express myself respectfully. The signora, who usually -defended me, did not even seem to notice the mortifications to which I -was subjected that evening. I was incensed beyond words. For the first -time I was really ashamed of my position, and I should have thought -seriously of quitting it, if the irresistible magnet of desire had not -kept me in bondage. - -For several days I suffered tortures. The signora pitilessly allowed me -to exhaust my strength rowing her about at midday, in the dry, intensely -hot, autumn weather, before the eyes of the whole city, who had seen me -for a long time previously seated in her gondola, at her feet, almost at -her side, and who saw me now, dripping with perspiration, fallen from -the sublime profession of troubadour to the laborious trade of -gondolier. My love changed to wrath. Two or three times I felt a -shameful temptation to treat her disrespectfully in public; then I was -ashamed of myself and my dejection became the more complete. - -One morning, the fancy seized her to go ashore on the Lido. The shore -was deserted, the sand sparkled in the sunlight; my head was burning -hot, the perspiration was running down my breast in streams. As I -stooped to lift Signora Aldini, she passed her silk handkerchief over my -dripping forehead, and gazed at me with a sort of loving compassion. - -"_Poveretto_!" she said, "you are not made for the trade to which I -condemn you!" - -"I would go to the galleys for you," I replied hotly. - -"And sacrifice your beautiful voice," she rejoined, "and the great -talent you may acquire, and the noble profession of musical artist to -which you may attain?" - -"Everything!" I replied, dropping on my knees before her. - -"You do not mean it!" she retorted, with a melancholy air. "Return to -your place," she added, pointing to the bow. "I wish to rest a while -here." - -I returned to the bow, but I left the door of the _camerino_ open. I -could see her lying on the black cushions, fair and pale, wrapped in her -black cape, buried and, as it were hidden in the black velvet of that -mysterious bower, which seems made for stealthy pleasures and forbidden -joys. She resembled a beautiful swan which swims into a dark grotto to -avoid the hunter. I felt that my reason was abandoning me; I crept to -her side and fell on my knees. To give her a kiss and then die in -expiation of my crime was my whole thought. Her eyes were closed, she -pretended to be asleep, but she felt the fire of my breath. Then she -called to me aloud, as if she believed me to be at a distance, and -pretended to wake gradually, to give me time to go away. She bade me go -to the _bottega_ on the Lido to fetch her some lemonade, then closed her -eyes again. I put one foot on shore, and that was all. I stepped back -into the gondola and stood still, gazing at her. She opened her eyes, -and her glance seemed to draw me to her by a thousand chains of steel -and diamond. I took one step toward her, she closed her eyes again; I -took another step, and she opened them, assuming an expression of -contemptuous surprise. I went ashore again, then returned to the -gondola. This cruel game lasted several minutes. She attracted and -spurned me as the hawk plays with the mortally wounded sparrow. Anger -took possession of me; I slammed the door of the _camerino_ so violently -that the glass was shivered. She uttered a cry which I did not deign to -notice, but rushed ashore, singing in a voice of thunder, which I -thought reckless and devil-may-care: - - - "La Biondina in gondoleta - L'altra sera mi o mena; - Dal piazer la povareta - La x' a in boto adormenta. - E la dormiva su sto bracio - Me intanto la svegliava; - E la barca che ninava - La tornava a adormenzar." - - -I sat down upon one of the Jewish tombstones on the Lido, and remained -there a long while; I purposely compelled her to wait for me. Then, of a -sudden, thinking that she might be suffering with thirst, I ran, -stricken with remorse, to fetch the drink for which she had asked me, -and carried it to her with deep solicitude. And yet I hoped that she -would reprimand me; I would have liked to be dismissed from my -employment, for it had become intolerable to me. She received me with no -trace of anger; indeed she thanked me sweetly as she took the glass I -handed her. Thereupon I saw that her hand was bleeding, it had been cut -by the broken glass. I could not restrain my tears. I saw that hers were -flowing too; but she did not speak to me, and I dared not break that -silence, fraught with loving reproaches and timid passion. - -I determined to stamp out my insane love and to leave Venice. I tried to -persuade myself that the signora had never returned it, and that I had -flattered myself with an impertinent hope; but every moment her glance, -her tone of voice, her gesture, even her sadness, which seemed to -increase and decrease with mine, all combined to revive my insane -confidence and to lead me to dangerous dreams. - -Fate seemed determined to deprive us of what little strength we still -retained. Mandola did not return. I was a very indifferent oarsman, -despite my zeal and strength; I was not familiar with the lagoons, I had -always been so absorbed by my own thoughts as I went in and out among -them! One evening I went astray in the salt marshes that stretch from -the St. George canal to the Marana canal. The rising tide covered those -vast plains of sand and seaweed; but it began to fall again before I -succeeded in rowing back into clear water; I could see the tops of the -aquatic plants moving in the breeze amid the foam. I pulled hard, but in -vain. The ebb tide laid bare a vast expanse of marsh, and the gondola -stranded gently on a bed of seaweed and shells. Night had spread its -veil over the sky and the waters, the sea-birds lighted all around us, -by thousands, filling the air with their plaintive cries. I called for a -long time, but my voice was lost in space; no fishing vessel chanced to -be at anchor near the marsh, no craft of any sort approached us. We must -needs resign ourselves to the necessity of awaiting some chance succor -or the next morning's tide. This last alternative was exceedingly -disquieting; I dreaded the cold night air for my mistress's sake, and -above all, the unhealthy vapors that rise from the marshes at daybreak; -I tried in vain to pull the gondola to a pool of water. Aside from the -fact that we should simply have gained a very few feet, it would have -taken more than six men to raise the boat from the bed she had made for -herself. Thereupon I determined to wade through the swamp, up to my -waist in mud, until I reached the channel, and to swim across in quest -of help. It was an insane undertaking; for I did not know the lay of the -land, and where the fishermen adroitly walk about to gather _sea-fruit_, -I should have been lost in bogs and quick-sands after a very few steps. -When the signora saw that I was inclined to resist her prohibition, and -was about to take the risk, she sprang to her feet, and, mustering -strength to remain in that position for an instant, she threw her arms -about me and fell back, almost pressing me to her heart. Thereupon I -forgot all my anxiety, and cried frantically: "Yes! yes! let us stay -here; let us never leave this spot; let us die here of joy and love, and -may the Adriatic not wake to-morrow to rescue us!" - -In the first moment of emotion she was very near abandoning herself to -my transports; but she soon recovered the strength with which she had -armed herself. - -"Well, yes," she said, kissing me on the forehead; "yes, I love you, and -I have loved you for a long while. It was because I loved you that I -refused to marry Lanfranchi, for I could not make up my mind to place an -everlasting obstacle between you and me. It was because I loved you that -I endured Montalegri's love, fearing that I might succumb to my passion -for you, and being determined to combat it; it was because I loved you -that I sent him away, being unable to endure longer that love which I -did not share; it is because I love you that I am still determined not -to give way to what I feel to-day; for I propose to give you proofs of a -veritable love, and I owe to your pride, so long humbled, some other -recompense than vain caresses, another title than that of lover." - -I did not understand that language. What other title than that of lover -could I desire, what greater happiness than that of possessing such a -mistress? I had had some absurd moments of pride and frenzy, but at that -time I was unhappy, I did not think that she loved me. - -"So long as you do love me," I cried; "so long as you tell me so as you -do now, in the mystery of darkness, and every evening, out of sight of -the curious and envious, give me a kiss as you did just now; so long as -you are mine in secret, in God's bosom, shall I not be prouder and -happier than the Doge of Venice? What more do I need than to live beside -you and to know that you belong to me? Ah! let all the world remain in -ignorance of it; I do not need to make others jealous in order to be -happy beyond words, and the opinion of other people is not necessary to -the pride and joy of my heart." - -"And yet," replied Bianca, "it will humiliate you to be my servant after -this, will it not?" - -"I was humiliated this morning," I cried; "to-morrow I shall be proud of -it." - -"What!" she said, "would you not despise me if, after abandoning myself -to your love, I should leave you in a state of degradation?" - -"There can be no degradation in serving one who loves me," I replied. -"If you were my wife, do you think that I would allow anybody but myself -to carry you? Could I think of anything except taking care of you and -amusing you? Salomé is not humiliated to be in your service, and yet -you do not love her as much as you love me, _signora mia_?" - -"O my noble-hearted boy!" cried Bianca, pressing my head against her -breast with deep emotion; "O pure and unselfish soul! Who will dare now -to say that there are no great hearts save those that are born in -palaces! Who will dare deny the honor and saintliness of these plebeian -natures, ranked so low by our hateful prejudices and our absurd disdain! -You are the only man who ever loved me for myself alone, the only man -whose aim was not my rank or my fortune!--Very well! you shall share -them both, you shall make me forget the miseries of my first marriage, -and replace with your rustic name the hateful name of Aldini, which I -bear with regret! You shall command my vassals and be at once the lord -of my estates and the master of my life. Nello, will you marry me?" - -If the earth had opened under my feet, or if the skies had fallen on my -head, I could not have experienced a more violent shock of amazement -than that which struck me dumb in the face of such a question. When I -had recovered somewhat from my stupefaction, I do not know what reply I -made, for my head was going round, and it was impossible for me to think -coherently. All that my natural good sense could do was to put aside -honors too heavy for my age and my inexperience. Bianca insisted. - -"Listen," she said; "I am not happy. My cheerfulness has long been a -cloak for intense suffering, until now, as you see, I am ill and can no -longer conceal my ennui. My position in society is false and very -distasteful to me; my position in my own esteem is worse still, and God -is dissatisfied with me. You know that I am not of patrician descent. -Torquato Aldini married me on account of the great fortune my father had -amassed in business. That haughty nobleman never saw in me anything more -than the instrument of his fortune, he never deigned to treat me as his -equal; some of his relatives encouraged him in maintaining the absurd -and cruel attitude of lord and master which he assumed toward me at the -outset; others blamed him severely for having contracted a misalliance -in order to pay his debts, and treated him coldly after his marriage. -After his death they all refused to see me, and I found myself without -any family; for by entering the family of a noble I had forfeited the -esteem and affection of my own people. I had married Torquato for love, -and those of my relatives who did not consider me insane believed me to -be guided by foolish vanity and vile ambition. That is why, despite my -wealth and my youth and an obliging and inoffensive disposition, you see -my salons almost empty and my social circle so restricted. I have some -warm friends, and their company satisfies my heart. But I am entirely -unfamiliar with the intoxication of society at large, and it has not -treated me so well that I am called upon to sacrifice my happiness to -it. I know that by marrying you I shall draw down upon myself not its -indifference simply but its irrevocable malediction. Do not be alarmed; -you see that it is a very trifling sacrifice on my part." - -"But why marry me?" said I. "Why invite that malediction to no purpose? -for I do not need your fortune to be happy, nor do you need a solemn -contract on my part to be sure that I shall love you forever." - -"Whether you are my husband or my lover," Bianca replied, "the world -will find it out all the same, and I shall be cursed and despised none -the less. Since your love must necessarily, in one way or the other, -separate me altogether from society, I desire at least to be reconciled -to God, and to find in this love of mine, sanctified by the Church, the -strength to despise society as it despises me. I have lived in sin for a -long while, I have sinned without adding to my happiness, I have risked -my salvation and have not found gladness of heart. Now I have found it -and I wish to enjoy it, stainless and cloudless; I wish to sleep, free -from remorse, on the bosom of the man I love; I wish to be able to say -to the world: 'It is you who destroy and corrupt hearts. Nello's love -has saved and purified me, and I have a refuge against you; God -permitted me to love Nello, and bids me love him until death.'" - -Bianca talked to me a long while in this strain. There was weakness, -childishness and pure goodness in these ingenuous plottings of her -pride, her love and her piety. I was not very strong myself. It was not -long since I had been accustomed to kneel, night and morning, on my -father's boat, before the image of St. Anthony painted on the sail; and -although the beautiful women of Venice diverted my thoughts sadly in the -basilica, I never missed attending mass, and I still had on my neck the -scapulary my mother hung there as she gave me her blessing on the day I -left Chioggia. So I allowed Signora Aldini to triumph over my scruples -and persuade me; and without further resistance or promises, I passed -the night at her feet, as submissive as a child to her religious -scruples, intoxicated with the pleasure of simply kissing her hand and -inhaling the perfume of her fan. It was a lovely night. The twinkling -stars trembled in the little pools which the tide had left on the marsh; -the breeze murmured in the green grasses. From time to time we saw in -the distance the light of a gondola gliding over the waves, but it did -not occur to us to call for help. The voice of the Adriatic breaking on -the farther shore of the Lido reached our ears, monotonous and majestic. -We indulged in countless enchanting dreams; we formed countless -deliciously trivial plans. The moon sank slowly and was shrouded in the -dark waves on the horizon, like a chaste virgin in her winding-sheet. We -were as chaste as she, and she seemed to glance at us with a friendly -expression before plunging into the sea. - -But soon the cold made itself felt, and a sheet of white mist spread -over the marsh. I closed the _camerino_ and wrapped Bianca in my red -cape. I sat down beside her, put my arms about her to shelter her, and -warmed her arms and hands with my breath. A delicious calm seemed to -have descended upon her heart since she had almost extorted from me a -promise to marry her. She rested her head lightly on my shoulder. The -night was far advanced; for more than six hours we had poured forth the -ardent love of our hearts in tender and impassioned words. A pleasant -sensation of weariness stole over me as well, and we fell asleep in each -other's arms, as pure as the dawn that was beginning to appear on the -horizon. It was our wedding-night--our only night of love; a spotless -night, which was never repeated, and its memory never marred. - -Loud voices woke me. I ran to the bow of the gondola and saw several men -approaching us. At the usual time of starting out to fish, a family of -fishermen had discovered the stranded craft, and they assisted me to -drag her to the Marana Canal, whence I rowed rapidly to the palace. - -How happy I was as I placed my foot on the first step! I thought no more -of the palace than of Bianca's fortune; but I had her in my arms who -thenceforth was my property, my life, my mistress in the noble and -blessed sense of the word! But my joy ended there. Salomé appeared in -the doorway of that terror-stricken house, where no one had closed an -eye during the night. Salomé was pale, and it was evident that she had -been weeping; it was probably the only time in her life. She did not -venture to question her mistress: perhaps she had already read upon my -brow the reason why the night had seemed so short to me. It had been -long enough to all the occupants of the palace. They all believed that -some horrible accident had befallen their dear mistress. A number of -them had wandered about all night, looking for us; others had passed the -time in prayer, burning little tapers before the image of the Virgin. -When their anxiety was allayed and their curiosity gratified, I noticed -that their thoughts took another direction and their faces a different -expression. They scrutinized my face--the women especially--with -insulting eagerness. As for Salomé's expression, it was so withering -that I could not endure it. Mandola arrived from the country in the -midst of the commotion. He understood in an instant what was going on, -and, putting his mouth to my ear, begged me to be prudent. I pretended -not to know what he meant; I did my best to submit with an air of -innocence to the investigations of the others. But in a few moments I -was unable to endure my anxiety, and I went into Bianca's room. - -I found her weeping bitterly beside her daughter's bed. The child had -been awakened in the middle of the night by the noise of the constant -going and coming of the frightened servants. She had listened to their -comments on the signora's prolonged absence, and, believing that her -mother was drowned, she had gone into convulsions. She had barely become -calm when I entered, and Bianca was blaming herself for the child's -suffering, as if she had wilfully caused it. - -"O my Bianca," I said to her, "be comforted and rejoice because your -child and all those about you love you so passionately. I will love you -even more than they do, so that you may be the happiest of women." - -"Do not say that the others love me," she replied with some bitterness. -"It seems to me that under their breaths they are calling this love of -mine, which they have already divined, a crime. Their glances are -insulting to me, their words wound me, and I greatly fear that they have -let slip some imprudent remark in my daughter's hearing. Salomé is -openly impertinent to me this morning. It is high time for me to put an -end to these insolent comments on my conduct. You see, Nello, they look -upon my loving you as a crime, and they approved of my supposed love for -the avaricious Lanfranchi. They are all low-minded or foolish creatures. -I must inform them this very day that I passed the night, not with my -lover, but with my husband. It is the only way to make them respect you -and refrain from betraying me." - -I dissuaded her from acting so hastily. I reminded her that she might -perhaps repent; that she had not reflected sufficiently; that I myself -needed time to consider her offer seriously; and that she had not -sufficiently weighed the consequences of her decision, with respect to -its possible future effect upon her daughter. I obtained her promise to -be patient and to act prudently. - -It was impossible for me to form an enlightened judgment regarding my -situation. It was intoxicating, and I was a mere boy. Nevertheless, a -sort of instinctive repugnance warned me to distrust the fascinations of -love and fortune. I was excited, anxious, torn between desire and fear. -In the brilliant destiny that was offered me, I saw but one -thing--possession of the woman I loved. All the wealth by which she was -surrounded was not even an accessory to my happiness, it was a -disagreeable condition for me in my heedlessness to accept. I was like -one who has never suffered and can conceive of no better or worse state -than that in which he has always lived. In the Aldini Palace I was free -and happy. Petted by all alike, permitted to gratify all my whims, I had -no responsibility, nothing to fatigue my body or my mind. Singing, -sleeping, and boating, that was substantially the whole of my life, and -you Venetians who are listening to me know whether any life is sweeter -or better adapted to our indolent and careless natures. I imagined the -rôle of husband and master as something analogous to the -superintendence exercised by Salomé over household affairs, and such a -rôle was very far from flattering my ambition. That palace, of which I -had the freedom, was my property in the pleasantest sense of the word: I -enjoyed all its pleasures without any of its cares. Let my mistress add -the joys of love, and I should be the King of Italy. - -Another thing that disheartened me was Salomé's gloomy air and the -embarrassed, mysterious and suspicious demeanor of the other servants. -There were many of them, and they were all excellent people, who had -treated me hitherto as a child of the family. In that silent reprobation -which I felt hovering over me, there was a warning which I could not, -which I did not wish to disdain; for, while it was due in some measure -to a natural feeling of jealousy, it was dictated even more by the -affectionate interest which the signora inspired. - -What would I not have given in those moments of dire perplexity to have -a judicious adviser? But I did not know whom to apply to, and I was the -sole confidant of my mistress's secrets. She passed the day in bed with -her daughter, and sent for me the next day, to repeat to me all that she -had said on the marsh. All the time that she was speaking to me, it -seemed to me that she was right, and that she had a triumphant answer to -all my scruples; but when I was alone again, my distress and -irresolution returned. - -I went up into the gallery and threw myself upon a chair. My eyes -wandered absent-mindedly from one to another of that long line of -ancestors whose portraits formed the only heritage that Torquato Aldini -had been able to bequeath to his daughter. Their smoke-begrimed faces, -their beards, cut square, and pointed, and diamond-shaped, their black -velvet robes and ermine-lined cloaks, gave them an imposing and -depressing aspect. Almost all had been senators, procurators, or -councillors; there was a multitude of uncles who had been inquisitors; -those of least consequence were minor canons or _capitani grandi_. At -the end of the gallery was the figure-head of the last galley fitted out -against the Turks by Tiberio Aldini, Torquato's grandfather, in the days -when the powerful nobles of the republic went to war at their own -expense, and esteemed it glorious to place their property and persons -voluntarily at the service of their country. It was a tall glass -lantern, set in gilded copper, surmounted and supported by metal -scroll-work of curious design, and with ornaments so placed that the bow -of the vessel ended in a point. Above each portrait was a long oak -bas-relief, reciting the glorious deeds of the illustrious personage -beneath. It occurred to me that, if we should have war, and the -opportunity should be offered me to fight for my country, I should be as -patriotic and as brave as all those noble aristocrats. It seemed to me -to be neither very extraordinary nor very meritorious to do great things -when one was rich and powerful, and I said to myself that the trade of -great nobleman could not be very difficult. But in those days, we were -not at war, nor were we likely to be. The republic was merely a -meaningless word, its might a mere shadow, and its enervated patricians -had no elements of grandeur except their names. It was the more -difficult to rise to their level in their opinion, because it was so -easy to surpass them in reality. Therefore to enter into a contest with -their prejudices and their contempt was unworthy of a true man, and the -plebeians were fully justified in despising those among themselves who -thought that they exalted themselves by seeking admission to fashionable -society and aping the absurdities of the nobles. - -These reflections passed through my mind confusedly at first; then they -became more distinct, and I found that I could think, as I had found one -fine morning that I could sing. I began to understand the repugnance I -felt at the thought of leaving my proper station in life to make a -spectacle of myself in society as a vain and ambitious fellow; and I -determined to bury my love-affair with Bianca in the most profound -mystery. - -Absorbed by these reflections, I walked along the gallery, glancing -proudly at that haughty race whose succession was disdained by a child -of the people, a boatman from Chioggia. I felt very happy; I thought of -my old father, and as I remembered the old house, long forgotten and -neglected, my eyes filled with tears. I found myself at the end of the -gallery, face to face with Messer Torquato, and for the first time I -scrutinized him boldly from head to foot. He was the very incarnation of -hereditary nobility. His glance seemed to drive one back like the point -of a sword, and his hand looked as if it had never opened except to -impose a command on his inferiors. I took pleasure in flouting him. -"Well!" I said to him mentally, "whatever you might have done, I would -never have been your servant. Your domineering air would not have -frightened me, and I would have looked you in the face as I look at this -canvas. You would never have obtained any hold on me, because my heart -is prouder than yours ever was, because I despise this gold before which -you bowed, because I am a greater man than you in the eyes of the woman -you possessed. In spite of all your pride of birth, you bent the knee to -her to obtain her wealth; and when you were rich through her, you -crushed and humbled her. That is the conduct of a dastard, and mine is -worthy of a genuine noble, for I want none of Bianca's wealth except her -heart, of which you were not worthy. And I refuse what you implored, so -that I may possess that which is precious above all things in my eyes, -Bianca's esteem. And I shall obtain it, for she will understand the vast -superiority of my heart to a debt-ridden patrician's. I have no -patrimony to redeem, you see! There is no mortgage on my father's -fishing-boat; and the clothes I wear are my own, because I earned them -by my toil. Very good! I shall be the benefactor, not the debtor, -because I shall restore happiness and life to that heart which you -broke, because I, servant and lover, shall succeed in winning blessings -and honor, while you, nobleman and husband, were cursed and despised." - -A slight sound caused me to turn my head. I saw little Alezia behind me; -she was crossing the gallery, dragging a doll larger than herself. I -loved the child, despite her haughty nature, because of her love for her -mother. I tried to kiss her; but, as if she felt in the atmosphere the -disgrace which had been weighing upon me in that house for two days -past, she drew back with an offended air, and crouched against her -father's portrait, as if she had some reason to fear me. I was instantly -struck by the resemblance which her pretty little dark face bore to -Torquato's haughty features, and I stopped to examine her more closely, -with a feeling of profound sadness. She seemed to me to be scrutinizing -me attentively at the same time. Suddenly she broke the silence to say -to me in a tone of great bitterness, and with an indignant expression -beyond her years: - -"Why have you stolen my papa's ring?" - -As she spoke, she pointed with her tiny finger at a beautiful diamond -ring, mounted in the old style, which her mother had given me several -days before, and which I had been childish enough to accept; then she -turned and, standing on tiptoe, placed her finger on one of the fingers -in the portrait which was adorned with the same ring accurately copied; -and I discovered that the imprudent Bianca had presented her gondolier -with one of her husband's most valuable family jewels. - -The blood rose in my cheeks, as I received from that child a lesson -which disgusted me more than ever with ill-gotten wealth. I smiled and -handed her the ring: - -"Your mamma dropped it off her finger," I said, "and I found it just now -in the gondola." - -"I will take it to her," said the child, snatching rather than taking it -from my hand. She ran away, leaving her doll on the floor. I picked up -the plaything to make sure of a little circumstance which I had often -noticed before. Alezia was in the habit of running a long pin through -the heart of every doll she owned, and sometimes she would sit for hours -at a time, absorbed in the profound and silent pleasure of that strange -amusement. - -In the evening Mandola came to my room. He seemed awkward and -embarrassed. He had much to say to me, but he could not find a word. His -expression was so curious that I roared with laughter. - -"You are doing wrong, Nello," he said with a pained look on his face; "I -am your friend; you are doing wrong!" - -He turned to go, but I ran after him and tried to make him explain -himself; it was impossible. I saw that his heart was full of sage -reflections and good advice; but he lacked words in which to express -himself, and all his abortive sentences, in his patois in which all -languages were mingled, ended with these words: - -"_E molto delica, delicatissimo._" - -At last I succeeded in making out that the rumor of my approaching -marriage to the signora was current in the house. A few impatient words -which some one had heard her say to Salomé were sufficient to put that -rumor in circulation. The signora had said just this, speaking of me: -"The time is not far away when you will take orders from him instead of -giving him orders."--I obstinately denied that these words had any such -meaning, and pretended that I did not understand them at all. - -"Very good," said Mandola; "that's the answer you ought to make, even to -me, although I am your friend. But I have eyes of my own; I don't ask -you any questions, I never have done it, Nello! but I came to warn you -that you must be prudent. The Aldinis are just looking for an excuse for -taking the guardianship of Signora Alezia away from the signora, and she -will die of grief if they take her child away from her." - -"What do you say?" I cried; "what? they will take her daughter away -because of me?" - -"If you were to marry her, certainly," replied the worthy gondolier; -"_otherwise_--as there are some things that can't be proved,--" - -"Especially when they don't exist," I rejoined warmly. - -"You speak as you should speak," replied Mandola; "continue to be on -your guard; trust nobody, not even me, and if you have any influence -over the signora, urge her to hide her feelings, especially from -Salomé. Salomé will never betray her; but her voice is too loud, and -when she quarrels with the signora, everybody in the house hears what -they say. If any of the signora's friends should suspect what is -happening, everything would go wrong; for friends aren't like servants; -they don't know how to keep a secret, and yet people trust their friends -more than they do us!" - -Honest Mandola's advice was not to be despised, especially as it was in -perfect accord with my instinct. The next evening we took the signora to -the Zueca Canal, and Mandola, understanding that I had something to say -to her, obligingly fell asleep at his post. I put out the light, stole -into the cabin, and talked a long while with Bianca. She was surprised -by my objections and said everything that she considered likely to -overcome them. I spoke firmly, I told her that I would never allow it to -be said of me that I had married a woman for her wealth; that I cared as -much for the good name of my family as any patrician in Venice; that my -kinsmen would never forgive me if I afforded any such cause for scandal, -and that I did not propose either to fall out with my dear old father or -to make trouble between the signora and her daughter; for she ought to -and doubtless did care more for Alezia than for all the world beside. -This last argument was more powerful than any other. She burst into -tears and poured forth her admiration for me and gratitude to me with -the enthusiasm of passion. - -From that day peace reigned once more in the Aldini Palace. That little -secondary society had passed through its revolutionary crisis. It had -its own peacemaker, and I laughed to myself at my rôle of great -citizen, with childlike heroism. Mandola, who was beginning to acquire -some education, was amazed to see me engage in the hardest sort of work, -and would call me under his breath, with a paternal air, his Cincinnatus -or his Pompilius. - -I had in fact resolved--and I kept steadfastly to my resolution--not to -accept the slightest favor from a woman whose lover I wished to be. -Inasmuch as the only means of possessing her in secret was to remain in -her house on the footing of a servant, it seemed to me that I could -re-establish equality between her and myself by making my services -correspond to my wages. Hitherto my wages had been large and entirely -out of proportion to my work, which, for some time past, had been -absolutely nothing. I determined to make up for lost time. I set about -keeping things in order, cleaning, doing errands, bringing wood and -water, polishing and brushing the gondola--in a word, doing the work of -ten men; and I did it cheerfully, humming my most beautiful operatic -airs and my noblest epic strophes. The task that afforded me the most -amusement was the taking care of the family pictures and brushing off -the dust which obscured Torquato's majestic glance every morning. When I -had completed his toilet, I would remove my cap with profound respect -and ironically repeat to him some parody of my heroic verses. - -The Venetian lower classes, especially the gondoliers, have, as you -know, a liking for jewels. They spend a good part of what they earn in -antique rings, shirt studs, scarf pins, chains and the like. I had -previously accepted many trinkets of the sort. I carried them all back -to Signora Aldini, and would not even wear silver buckles on my shoes. -But my most meritorious sacrifice was my abandonment of music. I -considered that my work, laborious as it was, was no compensation for -the expense which my constant theatre-going and my singing lessons -imposed on the signora. I persistently declared that I had a cold in my -head, and instead of going to the performance at La Fenice with her, I -adopted the practice of reading in the lobby of the theatre. I realized -that I was ignorant; and, although my mistress was scarcely less so, I -determined to extend my ideas a little, and not to make her blush for my -blunders. I studied my mother tongue earnestly, and strove to break -myself of the habit of murdering verses, as all gondoliers do. Moreover, -something told me that that study would be useful to me later, and that -what I lost in the way of progress in singing I should gain in the -perfecting of my pronunciation and accent. - -A few days of this judicious conduct served to restore my tranquillity. -I had never been more manly, more cheerful, and, as Salomé said, more -comely than in my neat and modest clothes, with my amiable expression -and my sun-burned hands. Everybody had accorded me confidence and esteem -once more, and I was again the recipient of the innumerable little -attentions which I formerly enjoyed. Pretty Alezia, who had the greatest -respect for the judgment of her Jewish governess, allowed me to kiss the -ends of her black braids, embellished with scarlet ribbons and fine -pearls. - -A single person remained depressed and unhappy--the signora herself. I -constantly surprised her lovely blue eyes, filled with tears, fastened -upon me with an indescribable expression of affection and grief. She -could not accustom herself to see me working so. If I had been her own -son she could not have been more grieved to see me carrying burdens and -standing in the rain. Indeed, her solicitude vexed me a little, and the -efforts she made to conceal it made it even more painful to her. An -entirely unforeseen revolution of sentiment had taken place in her. That -love which had hitherto been, as she herself told me, her torment and -her joy, seemed now to cause her naught but shame and consternation. She -no longer avoided opportunities to be alone with me, as she used to do; -on the contrary, she sought them; but, as soon as I knelt at her feet, -she would burst into sobs and change the hours promised to the joys of -love into hours of painful emotion. I strove in vain to understand what -was taking place in her heart. I could obtain nothing but vague replies, -always kind and affectionate, but incoherent, which caused me the utmost -perplexity. I had no idea what to do to comfort her and strengthen that -discouraged heart. I was consumed by desire, and it seemed to me that an -hour of mutual effusion and passion would have been more eloquent than -all that talk and all those tears; but I felt too much respect and -devotion for her not to sacrifice my transports of passion to her. I -felt that it would be very easy to take her by surprise, weak as she was -in body and mind; but I dreaded the tears of the next day too much, and -I wished to owe my happiness to her confidence and love alone. That day -did not come, and I must say, to the discredit of feminine weakness, -that, if I had shown less delicacy and unselfishness, my desires would -have been fully gratified. I had hoped that Bianca would encourage me; -I soon discovered that, on the contrary, she was afraid of me, and that -she shuddered at my approach, as if crime and remorse approached with -me. I succeeded in reassuring her only to see her plunge into still -deeper dejection, and upbraid fate, as if it had not been in her power -to put a better face upon her destiny. Then, too, a secret sense of -shame helped to crush that shrinking heart. Religion took possession of -her more and more completely; her confessor controlled her and terrified -her. He forbade her to have lovers, and, although she resisted him when -it was a question of Signor Lanfranchi and Signor Montalegri, she had -not the same courage with respect to me. I succeeded little by little in -extorting from her a confession of all her sufferings and internal -struggles. She had confessed to the confessor all the details of our -love, and he had declared that that low, criminal affection was a -heinous crime. He had forbidden her to think of marriage with me, even -more peremptorily than to give way to her passion; and he had frightened -her so by threatening to cast her out from the bosom of the Church, that -her gentle, timid mind, torn between the desire to make me happy and the -fear of destroying her own soul, was suffering veritable agony. - -Hitherto Signora Aldini's piety had been so pliant, so tolerant, so -truly Italian, that I was not a little surprised to see it become -serious just at the height of one of those paroxysms of passion which -seem most inconsistent with such changes. I worked hard with my poor -inexperienced brain to understand this phenomenon, and I succeeded. -Bianca probably loved me more than she had loved the count and the -prince; but she had not sufficient courage nor a sufficiently -enlightened mind to rise above public opinion. She complained of the -arrogance of other people; but she gave real value to that arrogance by -her fear of it. In a word, she was more submissive than anybody else to -the prejudice which she had attempted for an instant to defy. She had -hoped to find in the church, through the sacrament, and by redoubling -her pious fervor, the strength which she failed to find in herself, and -which she had not needed with her former lovers, because they were -patricians and society was on their side. But now the church threatened -her, society would heap maledictions upon her; to fight against the -church and society at the same time was a task beyond her strength. - -Then too, it may be that her love subsided as soon as I became worthy of -it; perhaps, instead of appreciating the grandeur of soul which had led -me to descend of my own motion from the salon to the servant's quarters, -she had fancied that she could detect in that courageous behavior a lack -of dignity and an inborn liking for servitude. She believed too that the -threats and sarcasms of her other servants had frightened me. She was -astonished to find that I was not ambitious, and that very absence of -ambition seemed to her an indication of an inert or timid spirit. She -did not admit all this to me; but as soon as I was once on the track I -divined it all. I was not angry. How could she understand my noble pride -and my sensitive honor, she who had accepted and returned the love of an -Aldini and a Lanfranchi? - -Doubtless she ceased to consider me handsome when I refused to wear lace -and ribbons. My hands, calloused in her service, no longer seemed to her -worthy to press hers. She had loved me as a gondolier, in the thought -and hope of transforming me into an attractive cicisbeo; but the instant -that I insisted upon reverting to the system of a fair exchange of -services between her and myself, all her illusions vanished, and she saw -in me only the vulgar fisherman's son of Chioggia, a species of stupid -and hard-working beast of burden. - -As these discoveries cleared the mists away from my mind, the violence -of my passions diminished. If I had had to deal with a great soul, or -even with a forceful nature, it would have been in my eyes a glorious -task to efface the distressing memories left behind in that heart by my -predecessors. But to succeed such men simply to be misunderstood, and in -all probability to be some day cast aside and forgotten like them, was a -happiness which I no longer cared to purchase at the cost of an enormous -expenditure of passion and will-power. Signora Aldini was a sweet and -lovely woman; but could I not find in a cottage at Chioggia beauty and -sweetness united, without causing tears to flow, without causing -remorse, and above all without leaving shame behind me? - -My mind was soon made up. I resolved not only to leave the signora, but -to cease to be a servant. So long as I had been in love with her harp -and her person, I had had no time to reflect seriously on my condition. -But, as soon as I abandoned my foolish aspirations, I realized how -difficult it is to retain one's dignity unimpaired under the protection -of the great, and I recalled the salutary arguments which my father had -urged upon me, and to which I had paid little heed. - -When I gave her an inkling of my purpose, I saw, although she opposed -it, that she was greatly relieved; happiness might return and dwell once -more in that affectionate and beneficent heart. The charming frivolity -which was the basis of her character would reappear on the surface with -the first lover who should be able to push aside her confessor, her -servants, and society. A great passion would have shattered her system; -a succession of mild passions and a multitude of lukewarm attachments -would keep her alive in her natural element. - -I forced her to admit all that I had divined. She had never studied -herself very much, and she was always most sincere. If there was no -heroism in her character, neither was there any pretension to heroism, -nor the overbearing despotism which is its consequence. She approved my -determination, but she wept and was dismayed at the thought of the blank -my departure would leave in her life; for she loved me still, I am sure, -with all the strength of her nature. - -She attempted to worry and fret about what was to become of me. I would -not allow it. The abrupt and haughty tone in which I interrupted her -when she spoke of offering her services closed her mouth once for all in -that respect. I would not even take the clothes she had had made for me. -On the day before I was to take my leave, I purchased the complete -outfit of a sailor of Chioggia, new, but of the coarsest materials; and -in that guise I appeared before her for the last time. - -She had requested me to come to her at midnight, so that we could part -without witnesses. I was grateful to her for the affectionate -familiarity with which she embraced me. I do not believe there was -another society woman in all Venice sufficiently sincere and sympathetic -to be willing to repeat the assurance of her love to a man dressed as I -was. Tears poured from her eyes when she passed her little white hands -over the rough material of my scarlet-lined cape; then she smiled, and, -pulling the hood over my head, gazed at me lovingly, and exclaimed that -she had never seen me look so handsome, and that she had done very wrong -ever to make me dress in any other way. The warmth and sincerity of my -thanks, the oaths I took to be faithful to her until death, and never to -think of her except to bless her and commend her to God's keeping, -touched her deeply. She was not accustomed to being left in that way. - -"You have a more chivalrous heart," she said to me, "than any of those -who bear the title of chevalier." - -Then she gave way to an outburst of enthusiasm: the independence of my -nature, the indifference with which I laid aside luxury and indolence -for the hardest of lives, the respect with which I had never failed to -treat her when it would have been so easy for me to abuse her weakness -for me; all this, she said, raised me far above other men. She threw -herself into my arms, almost at my feet, and again begged me not to go -away, but to marry her. - -This outburst was sincere, and, although it did not change my -resolution, it made the signora so lovely and so fascinating that I was -very near casting my heroism to the winds and taking my reward in that -last night for all the sacrifices I had made to my peace of mind. But I -had the strength to resist, and to go forth chaste from a love affair -which nevertheless had its origin in sensual desire. I took my leave, -bathed in her tears, and carrying away, as my sole treasure and trophy, -a lock of her lovely fair hair. As I withdrew I went to little Alezia's -bed, and softly put aside the curtains to take a last look at her. She -at once woke, and did not recognize me at first, for she was frightened; -she did not cry out, but simply called her mother in a voice which she -tried to keep from trembling. - -"Signorina," I said, "I am the _Orco_,[3] and I have come to ask you why -you pierce the hearts of your dolls with pins." - -She sat up in bed, and replied, glancing at me with a mischievous -expression: - -"I do it to see if their blood is blue." - -_Blue blood_, you know, is synonymous with noble in the popular language -of Venice. - -"But they have no blood," I said; "they are not noble!" - -"They are nobler than you," was her retort, "for their blood isn't -black." - -Black, you know, is the color of the _nicoloti_, the association of -boatmen. - -"_Signora mia_," I said in an undertone to her mother, as I drew the -child's curtains, "you have done well not to splash ink on your azure -crest. Here is a little patrician who would never have forgiven you." - -"And my heart," she replied sadly, "is pierced, not with a pin, but with -a thousand swords." - -When I was in the street, I stopped to look at the corner of the palace -which stood out in the moonlight from the eaves to the depths of the -Grand Canal. A boat passed, and, causing a ripple in the water, cut and -scattered the reflection of that pure line. It seemed to me that I had -just had a beautiful dream and had awakened in darkness. I began to run -at full speed, never looking behind, and did not stop until I reached -the Paglia bridge, where the boats for Chioggia await passengers, while -the boatmen, wrapped in their capes in winter and summer alike, lie -sound asleep on the parapet, and even across the steps, under the feet -of passers-by. I asked if anyone of my fellow-townsmen would take me to -my father's house. - -"Is it you, _kinsman_?" they cried in surprise. - -That word _kinsman_, which the Venetians ironically bestow on the -Chioggians, and which the latter have had the good-sense to accept,[4] -was so sweet to my ear that I embraced the first man who called me by -it. They promised to start in an hour, and asked me several questions, -but did not listen to my answers. The Chioggian hardly knows the use of -a bed; but he sleeps while walking, talking, even rowing. They suggested -my taking a nap on the common bed, that is to say on the flagstones of -the quay. I lay on the ground, with my head on one of those worthy -fellows, while another used me as a pillow, and so on. I slept as in the -happiest days of my childhood, and I dreamed that my poor mother--who -had been dead a year--appeared in the doorway of our cottage and -congratulated me on my return. I was awakened by the repeated shouts of -_Chiosa_! _Chiosa_![5] with which our boatmen wake the echoes of the -ducal palace and the prisons, to attract passengers. It seemed to me a -cry of triumph, like the _Italia_! _Italia_! of the Trojans in the -_Æneid_. I jumped aboard a boat with a light heart, and, thinking of -the night Bianca must have passed, reproached myself a little for -sleeping soundly. But I was reconciled to myself by the thought that I -had not poisoned her future peace of mind. - -It was midwinter and the nights were long; we reached Chioggia an hour -before dawn. I ran to our cabin. My father was already at sea; only my -youngest brother was left behind to look after the house. It took a long -while for him to wake up and recognize me. It was easy to see that he -was accustomed to sleep amid the roar of the waves and the storm; for I -nearly broke the door down trying to make him hear me. At last he came -out, leaped on my neck, put on his cape and rowed me half a league out -to sea, to the spot where my father's boat lay at anchor. The excellent -man, awaiting the best time to set his nets, was asleep, according to -the custom of old fishermen, stretched out on his back, his body and -face sheltered by a coarse blanket, while the stinging north wind -whistled through the rigging. The white-capped waves beat against the -vessel and covered him with spray; no human voice could be heard in the -vast solitude of the Adriatic. I softly put aside the blanket and looked -at him. He was the image of strength in repose. His gray beard, as -tangled as the seaweed when the tide is rising, his earth-colored jacket -and his dull green woollen cap made him resemble an old Triton asleep in -his shell. He displayed no more surprise when he woke than if he had -been expecting me. - -"Oho!" he said, "I was dreaming of the poor woman, and she said to me: -'Get up, old man, here's our son Daniel back again.'" - - -[Footnote 3: The red devil, or will'o-the-wisp of the lagoons.] - -[Footnote 4: The peninsula of Chioggia was originally inhabited by five -or six families which never married except among themselves.] - -[Footnote 5: Chioggia!] - - - - -SECOND PART - - -I do not propose, my friends, to describe all the vicissitudes which -marked my passage from the beach at Chioggia to the stage of the leading -theatres in Italy, and from the trade of fisherman to the rôle of -_primo tenore_; that was the work of several years, and my reputation -increased rapidly as soon as I had taken the first step in my career. If -circumstances were often unfavorable, my easy-going disposition was -always able to make the best of them, and I can fairly say that my great -successes did not cost me very dear. - -Ten years after leaving Venice, I was at Naples, playing Romeo at the -San Carlo theatre. King Murat and his brilliant staff, and all the vain -and venal beauties of Italy, were there. I did not pride myself on being -a particularly ardent patriot, but I did not share the infatuation of -that period for foreign domination. I did not turn my face backward -toward a still more degrading past; I fed upon the first elements of -Carbonarism, which were then fermenting, without definite shape or name, -from Prussia to Sicily. - -My heroism was simple and intense, as all religions are at their birth. -I carried into all that I did, and especially into my art, the feeling -of mocking pride and democratic independence which inspired me every day -in the clubs and in clandestine pamphlets. _Friends of Truth_, _Friends -of Light_, _Friends of Liberty_--such were the names under which liberal -sympathies gathered; and even in the ranks of the French army, at the -very side of the victorious leaders, we had associates, children of your -great revolution, who, in their secret hearts, were determined to wash -away the stain of the 18th Brumaire. - -I loved the rôle of Romeo, because I could give expression in it to -warlike sentiments and feelings of chivalrous detestation. When my -audience, always half French, applauded my dramatic outbursts, I felt as -if I were revenged for our national degradation; for those conquerors -were unconsciously applauding curses aimed at them, longings for their -death and threats to attain it. - -One evening, during one of my finest moments, when it seemed as if the -roof would fall under the explosions of frantic applause, my eyes fell -upon a face in a proscenium box almost on the stage, an impassive face, -the sight of which made my blood suddenly run cold. You have no idea of -the mysterious influences which govern the actor's inspiration, how the -expression of certain faces absorbs him, and stimulates or deadens his -audacity. Speaking for myself at least, I cannot avoid an instant -sympathy with my audience, whether the effect is to spur me on if I find -it inclined to resist, until I subjugate it by my passion, or to melt us -into one as by the action of an electric current, so that its quick -response imparts new vigor to my sensitive talent. But certain glances, -or certain words spoken in whispers close beside me, have sometimes -disturbed me so that it required the utmost effort of which my will was -capable to combat their effect. - -The face that impressed me at that moment was ideally beautiful; its -owner was beyond dispute the most beautiful woman in the whole theatre. -Meanwhile, the whole audience was roaring and stamping in admiration, -and she alone, the queen of the evening, seemed to be studying me -dispassionately, and to discover faults which the vulgar eye could not -detect. She was the Muse of Tragedy, stern Melpomene in person, with her -regular oval face, her black eyebrows, her high forehead, her raven -hair, her great eyes gleaming with a dark flame in their vast orbits, -and her stern lip, whose unbending curve was never softened by a smile; -and, with all the rest, in the very bloom and flower of youth, with a -graceful, lithe figure instinct with health. - -"Who is that lovely dark girl with such a cold eye?" I asked Count Nasi, -during the entr'acte; he had taken a great liking to me, and came on the -stage every evening to chat with me. - -"She is either the daughter or niece of Princess Grimani," was his -reply. "I do not know her, for she has just come from some convent or -other, and her mother, or aunt, is herself a stranger in this region. -All I can tell you is that Prince Grimani loves her like his own child, -that he will give her a handsome dowry, and that she is one of the -richest matches in Italy; and yet I shall never take my place in the -lists." - -"Why not, pray?" - -"Because they say she is insolent and vain, infatuated with her noble -birth, and of an overbearing disposition. I care so little for women of -that stamp that I don't even care to look at her when I meet her. They -say that she will be queen of the balls next winter, and that her beauty -is something marvellous. I don't know or want to know whether it is or -is not. I can't endure Grimani either; he is a genuine stage _hidalgo_; -and if it were not that he has a handsome fortune and a young wife who -is said to be attractive, I don't know how anyone could be induced to -endure the tedium of his conversation or the freezing stiffness of his -hospitality." - -During the following scene I glanced at the proscenium box from time to -time. I was no longer disturbed by the thought that its occupants were -disposed to judge me unfavorably, since I had learned that the Grimanis -were accustomed to maintain a haughty demeanor even with people whom -they considered to belong to their own class. I looked at the girl with -the impartiality of a sculptor or a painter; she seemed to me even -lovelier than at first sight. Old Grimani, who was sitting beside her at -the front of the box, had a fine face, but stern and cold. That -supercilious couple seemed to exchange a few monosyllables at long -intervals, and at the end of the opera he rose slowly and went out, -without waiting for the ballet. - -The next day the old man and the young woman were in the same place, in -the same unmoved attitude. I did not once see any trace of emotion, and -Prince Grimani slept sweetly throughout the first acts. The young woman, -on the contrary, seemed to be paying her whole attention to the -performance. Her great eyes were fastened on me like those of a ghost, -and that fixed, searching and profound gaze became so embarrassing to me -that I carefully avoided it. But, as if an evil spell had been cast upon -me, the more I tried to keep my eyes away, the more they persisted in -meeting those of the young sorceress. There was something so -extraordinarily powerful in that mysterious magnetism, that I was -assailed by childish dread of it, and feared that I should not be able -to finish the opera. I had never felt anything like it. There were times -when I fancied that I recognized that marble face, and I seemed to be on -the point of accosting her as an old friend. At other times I believed -that she was my deadly enemy, my evil genius, and I was tempted to hurl -violent reproaches at her. - -The _seconda donna_ added to my truly alarming discomfort by whispering -to me: - -"Look out, Lelio, you'll catch the fever. That woman in the box will -give you the _jettatura_."[6] - -I had been a firm believer in the _jettatura_ during the greater part of -my life. I no longer believed in it; but the love of the marvellous, -which is not easily dislodged from an Italian head, especially that of a -child of the people, had led me to indulge in most extravagant -reflections on the subject of animal magnetism. It was the period when -charming fancies of that sort were blooming luxuriantly all over the -world; Hoffmann was writing his _Tales_, and magnetism was the -mysterious pivot upon which all the hopes of the _illuminati_ turned. -Whether because that foible had taken such complete possession of me -that it controlled my actions, or because it took me by surprise at a -moment when I was not in the best of health, I began to shiver from head -to foot, and I nearly fainted when I returned to the stage. That -wretched weakness finally gave place to wrath, and as I walked toward -the box in question with La Checchina--the _seconda donna_ who had -mentioned the evil eye--I said to her, indicating my fair enemy, but in -a tone too low to be overheard by the audience, these words paraphrased -from one of our finest tragedies: - - - "_Bella e stupida._" - - -The signora flushed to the roots of her hair with anger. She started to -rouse Prince Grimani, who was sleeping with all his heart; but she -suddenly stopped, as if she had changed her mind, and kept her eyes -fixed upon me as before, but with a vindictive, threatening expression -which seemed to say: - -"You shall repent of that." - -Count Nasi accosted me as I left the theatre after the performance. - -"Lelio," said he, "you are in love with the Grimani." - -"Am I bewitched, in God's name," I cried, "and why is it that I cannot -rid myself of that apparition?" - -"You won't rid yourself of it for a long time either, poor boy," said -Checchina, with a half-artless, half-mocking air; "that Grimani is the -devil. Wait a moment," she added, taking my arm, "I know something about -fever, and I will wager--_Corpo della Madonna_!"--she cried, turning -pale, "you have a terrible attack of fever, my poor Lelio!" - -"One always has the fever when one acts and sings in a way to give it to -others," said the count; "come to supper with me, Lelio." - -I declined; I was ill, in very truth. During the night I had a violent -fever, and the next day I could not leave my bed. Checchina installed -herself at my bedside and did not leave me all the time that I was ill. - -Checchina was a young woman of twenty or thereabout, tall and large, and -of a somewhat masculine type of beauty, although very white and fair. -She was my sister and my kinswoman, that is to say, she came from -Chioggia. Like me she was a fisherman's child and had long employed her -strength beating the waters of the Adriatic with oars. A wild love of -independence led her to use her fine voice as a means of assuring -herself a free profession and a wandering life. She had run away from -her father's house and begun to roam about the country on foot, singing -in the public squares. I chanced to meet her at Milan, in a furnished -lodging-house where she was singing for the guests at the table d'hôte. -I recognized her as a Chioggian by her accent; I questioned her and -remembered seeing her as a child; but I was careful to say nothing by -which she could identify me as a _kinsman_, especially as that Daniele -Gemello who had left the neighborhood rather suddenly, as the result of -an unlucky duel. That duel cost a poor devil his life and his murderer -many sleepless nights. - -Allow me to pass rapidly over that incident, and to avoid awakening a -bitter memory during our quiet evening. It will be enough for me to say -to Zorzi that the practice of duelling with knives was still in full -vigor at Chioggia in my youth, and the whole population acted as -seconds. Duels were fought in broad daylight, on the public square, and -insults were avenged by the wager of combat, as in the days of chivalry. -My melancholy success exiled me from the province! for the _podestat_ -was far from lenient in such matters, and the law inflicted severe -penalties upon the last remnants of those savage old customs. Perhaps -this will explain why I always concealed the story of my early years, -and why I travelled over the world under the name of Lelio, sending -money secretly to my family, writing to them with the greatest caution, -and disclosing to no one, not even to them, my means of subsistence, for -fear that, by corresponding with me they might draw upon themselves the -open hostility of those families in Chioggia whom the death of my -assailant had angered more or less. - -But, as my origin was betrayed by an ineradicable trace of the Venetian -accent, I passed myself off as a native of Palestrina, and Checchina had -adopted the habit of calling me her _countryman_, her _cousin_ or her -_gossip_, as it happened. - -Thanks to my care and my assistance, Checchina rapidly acquired -considerable talent, and at the time of my life of which I am now -speaking, she had been engaged on honorable terms as a member of the -troupe at San Carlo. - -She was a strange but most excellent creature, was Checchina; she had -improved wonderfully since I had picked her out of the gutter, so to -speak; but she still retained, and retains to this day, a certain -rusticity which does not altogether disappear on the stage, and which -makes her the first actress in the world in such rôles as Zerlina. She -had corrected in large measure the amplitude of her gestures and the -abruptness of her speech, but she retained enough of both to come very -near being comic in pathetic parts. However, as she had intelligence and -feeling, she raised herself to a relatively high position, but the -public did not give her all the credit she deserved. Opinions were -divided concerning her, and a certain abbé said that she brushed so -close to the sublime and the farcical that there was not enough room -left between the two for her long arms. - -Unluckily, Checchina had one failing, from which, by the way, the -greatest artists are not exempt. She satisfied herself only in rôles -which were entirely unsuited to her, and, scorning those in which she -could best display her _verve_, her unconstant and her restless -activity, she insisted upon producing great effects in tragedy. Like a -true village maiden, she was intoxicated by superb costumes, and fancied -that she was really a queen when she wore a diadem and a royal cloak. -Her tall, lithe figure, her graceful, quasi-martial bearing, made of her -a magnificent statue when she was not in motion. But her exaggerated -gestures constantly betrayed the young oarswoman, and when I desired, on -the stage, to warn her to be less vehement, I would whisper: "_Per dio_! -_non vogar_! _non siamo qui sull' Adriatico_."[7] - -Whether Checchina was my mistress is a question of little interest to -you, I presume. I can only assure you that she was not at the time of -which I am speaking, and that I was indebted for her affectionate care -to nothing else than the kindness of her heart and her unfailing -gratitude. She has always been a devoted sister and friend to me, and -many a time she has risked a rupture with her most brilliant lovers, -rather than desert me or neglect me when my health or my interests -demanded her zealous care or her aid. - -As I was saying, she took up her post at my bedside, and did not leave -me until she had cured me. Her tireless devotion to me vexed Count Nasi -somewhat, although he was my friend and placed full confidence in my -word; but he himself confessed to me what he called his miserable -weakness. When I urged Checchina to deal more gently with that excellent -young man's involuntary sensitiveness, she would say: - -"Nonsense! Don't you see that I must train him to respect my -independence? Do you suppose that, when I am his wife, I will consent to -abandon my stage friends and worry about what people in society think of -me? Don't believe it, Lelio. I propose to remain free, and to obey the -voice of my heart and nothing else." - -She had persuaded herself, with none too good reason, that the count was -fully determined to marry her; and I may say that she possessed, to a -marvellous degree, the gift of deluding herself with respect to the -violence of the passions she inspired; nothing could equal her -confidence in a promise, unless it were her philosophical and heroic -indifference when she was deceived. - -I suffered considerably; my disease came very near assuming a serious -character. The doctors found a very pronounced tendency to enlargement -of the heart, and the very sharp pains which I felt about that organ and -the excessive rush of blood thither necessitated numerous bleedings. So -that I lost the rest of that season, and, as soon as I was convalescent, -I went for rest and balmy air to a beautiful villa of Count Nasi's, a -few leagues from Florence, near Cafaggiolo, at the foot of the -Apennines. He promised to join me there with Checchina as soon as the -performances for which she was engaged would allow her to leave Naples. - -A few days of that delightful solitude benefited me so much that I was -allowed to take excursions of some length, sometimes in the saddle, -sometimes on foot, through the narrow gorges and picturesque ravines -which form a first step to the towering masses of the Apennines. In my -musing I called that region the _proscenium_ of the great range, and I -loved to seek out some amphitheatre of hills or some natural terrace -where, all alone and far from every eye, I could indulge in outbursts of -lyric declamation, which were answered by the resonant echoes or the -mysterious murmur of the streams flowing under the rocks. - -One day I unexpectedly found myself on the Florence road. Like a -glistening white ribbon it ran through a verdant, gently undulating -country, strewn with beautiful gardens, wooded parks and handsome -villas. Seeking to learn my whereabouts, I stopped at the gate of one of -those charming abodes. The gate was open, and I could see an avenue of -old trees mysteriously intertwined. Beneath those dark, voluptuously -enlaced branches a woman was walking slowly--a woman of slender form and -a bearing so noble that I paused to gaze at her and follow her with my -eyes as long as possible. As she showed no inclination to turn, I was -seized with an irresistible longing to see her features, and I yielded -to it, heedless of the fact that I was violating the proprieties, and -might be subjected to a humiliating rebuff. - -"Who can say," I said to myself, "women are so indulgent sometimes in -this mild climate of ours!" - -Moreover, I reasoned that my face was too well known for me ever to be -taken for a robber; and, lastly, I relied to some extent on the -curiosity which the great majority of people feel to obtain a near view -of the features and manners of an artist of some celebrity. - -So I ventured into the shady avenue, walking rapidly, and was just about -to overtake the solitary promenader, when I saw coming toward her a -young man dressed in the latest fashion, and with a pretty, insipid -face, who caught sight of me before I had time to jump in among the -trees. I was within three yards of the noble pair. The young man stopped -beside the lady, offered her his arm, and said to her, glancing at me -with the most surprised air of which a perfectly attired man is capable: - -"My dear cousin, who is this man who is following you?" - -The lady turned, and the sight of her gave me such a shock that for a -moment I was in danger of a relapse. My heart gave a sharp, nervous -throb as I recognized the young woman who stared at me in such a curious -way from her proscenium box at the time I was taken ill at Naples. Her -face flushed slightly, then lost its color. But no gesture, no -exclamation betrayed either surprise or anger. She eyed me from head to -foot with calm disdain, and replied with incredible audacity: - -"I don't know him." - -That extraordinary statement aroused my curiosity. It seemed to me that -I could detect in that girl such consummate dissimulation and such a -strange sort of pride that I suddenly felt irresistibly impelled to take -the risk of a mad adventure. We Bohemians do not allow ourselves to be -awed overmuch by the customs of society and the laws of propriety; we -have no great fear of being ejected from those private theatres where -society takes its turn at posing before us, and where we feel so -strongly the superiority of the artist; for there no one can arouse in -us the intense emotions which we have the art of arousing. Salons bore -us to death and chill our blood, in return for the warmth and life that -we carry thither. So I approached my noble hosts with a dignified air, -caring very little about the manner of their reception of me, and -determined to take the first convenient pretext for obtaining admission -to the house. - -I bowed gravely and represented myself as a piano-tuner who had been -sent for to Florence from a country-house, the name of which I pretended -to remember imperfectly. - -"This is not the place. You may quit this place," replied the signora, -coldly. But, like a true fiancé, the cousin came to my assistance. - -"My dear cousin," he said, "your piano is terribly out of tune; if this -man could spare an hour, we might have some music this evening. I beg -you to let him tune it, won't you?" - -The young Grimani had a wicked smile on her lips as she replied: - -"As you please, cousin." - -"Does she propose to amuse herself at my expense or his?" I thought. -"Perhaps both." - -I bowed slightly to signify my consent. Thereupon the cousin, with -careless courtesy, pointed out to me a glass door at the end of the -avenue, where the branches, drooping lower and lower until they formed a -sort of arbor, concealed the front of the villa. - -"At the end of the large salon, signor," he said, "you will find a -study. The piano is there. I shall have the honor to see you again when -you have finished. Shall we walk as far as the pond?" he added, turning -to his cousin. - -I saw her smile again, almost imperceptibly, but with the keenest -delight at the mortification that I felt, while she let me go in one -direction and continued her stroll in the other, leaning on the arm of -her elegant and aristocratic cousin. - -It is not a very difficult matter to put a piano _almost_ in tune, and -although I had never tried before, I succeeded very well; but I spent -much more time about it than an experienced hand would have required, -and I watched with some impatience the sun sinking behind the treetops; -for I had no other pretext for another interview with my singular -heroine than to hear her try the piano when it was in tune. So I worked -away awkwardly enough, and was in the midst of a monotonous drumming -with which I was almost deafening myself, when I raised my head and saw -the signora before me, half turned toward the fireplace, but watching me -in the mirror with malicious intentness. To meet her sidelong glance and -turn my eyes away was a matter of a second. I continued my work with the -utmost coolness, resolved to watch the enemy and see what she was -driving at. - -La Grimani--I continued to give her that name in my mind, knowing no -other--made a pretence of arranging some flowers in the vases on the -mantel with great care; then she moved a chair, moved it back to the -place where it was before, dropped her fan, picked it up with a great -rustling of her skirts, opened a window, and instantly closed it again, -then, seeing that I was determined not to notice anything, she adopted -the extreme course of dropping a stool on her pretty little foot and -uttering a cry of pain. I was stupid enough to drop the key on the -metallic strings, which emitted a piteous wail. The signora started, -shrugged her shoulders, and, suddenly recovering all her -self-possession, as if we were acting a scene in a burlesque, she looked -me in the face and said: - -"_Cosa, signore?_" - -"I thought that your ladyship spoke to me," I replied, with no less -tranquillity, and resumed my work. She remained standing in the middle -of the room as if petrified by amazement in the face of such audacity, -or as if brought to a standstill by a sudden doubt as to my identity -with the person whom she had thought that she recognized. At last she -lost patience, and asked me, almost roughly, if I had nearly finished. - -"Oh! bless my soul, no! signora," I replied; "here is a broken string, -you see." As I spoke I gave the key a sharp twist on the pin I was -turning, and broke the string. - -"It seems to me," said she, "that this piano is giving you a great deal -of trouble." - -"A great deal," I rejoined, "the strings keep breaking." And I snapped a -second one. - -"That is very extraordinary," she exclaimed. - -"Yes, it is indeed extraordinary," I replied. - -The cousin entered at that moment, and I snapped a third string by way -of salute. It was one of the lower bass strings, and it made a terrible -report. The cousin, who was not expecting it, stepped back, and the -signora laughed aloud. That laugh had a strange sound to me. It was not -in harmony with her face or her manner; it was harsh and spasmodic, and -disconcerted the cousin so that I almost pitied him. - -"I am very much afraid," she said, when that nervous paroxysm came to an -end and she was able to speak, "I am very much afraid that we cannot -have any music to-night. This poor old _cembalo_ is bewitched, all the -strings are breaking. It is really supernatural, I assure you, Hector; -if you so much as look at them they twist and snap with a horrible -noise." - -With that she began to laugh again, peal upon peal, without the -slightest trace of merriment on her face. The cousin laughed because she -did, but was abruptly checked by these words from her: - -"For heaven's sake, cousin, don't laugh; you haven't the slightest -inclination to." - -The cousin seemed to me to be well used to being laughed at and teased. -But he was hurt, no doubt, to be treated so in my presence; for he said -in an irritated tone: - -"Why shouldn't I be inclined to laugh as well as you, cousin?" - -"Because I say that you are not," she replied. "But tell me, Hector," -she added, abruptly changing the subject, "were you at San Carlo last -year?" - -"No, cousin." - -"In that case you did not hear the famous Lelio?" - -She said these last words with significant emphasis; but she had not the -impudence to look me in the face immediately, and I had time to recover -from the emotion caused me by that blow full in the face. - -"I neither heard him nor saw him," said the guileless cousin, "but I -heard a great dea! about him. He's a great artist, so I understand." - -"Very great," replied La Grimani, "a full head taller than you. See! he -is about this gentleman's height.--Do you know him, signor?" she added, -turning to me. - -"I know him very well, signora," I replied tartly; "he is a very -handsome fellow, a very great actor, an admirable singer, a very clever -talker, a bold and spirited adventurer, and, furthermore, a fearless -duellist, which is not amiss." - -The signora looked at her cousin, then glanced at me, with an -indifferent air, as if to say: "It's of little consequence to me." Then -she went off into another paroxysm of inextinguishable laughter, which -was altogether unnatural, and in which neither her cousin nor myself -joined. I returned to my pursuit of the dominant chord on the keyboard, -and Signor Ettore moved about impatiently, making his new boots squeak -on the floor, as if he were utterly disgusted with the conversation -being carried on between a mere workman like myself and his noble -fiancée. - -"Look you, cousin, you mustn't believe what he says about Lelio," -observed the signora, abruptly ceasing her convulsive laughter. "So far -as the man's great beauty is concerned, I cannot contradict him for I -didn't look at him; and, besides, an actor can always appear young and -handsome with his paint and his false hair and moustaches. But as to his -being an admirable singer and a good actor, that I deny. In the first -place he sings false, in the second place he acts detestably. His -declamation is too loud, his gestures commonplace, the expression of his -features stiff and conventional. When he weeps, he makes wry faces; when -he threatens, he roars; when he is majestic, he is tedious; and, in his -best moments, when he holds himself back and doesn't speak, one might -apply to him the refrain of the ballad: - - - "'_Brutto è quanto stupido._' - - -I am sorry to disagree with this gentleman; but my opinion is the -opinion of the public! It isn't my fault that Lelio didn't have the -slightest success at San Carlo, and I don't advise you to take the -journey to Naples to see him, cousin." - -Having received this stinging lesson, for a moment I was on the verge of -losing my head and picking a quarrel with the cousin to punish the -signora; but the excellent youth did not give me time. - -"That is just like a woman," he cried, "and above all things just like -one of your inconceivable whims, cousin! Not more than three days ago, -you told me that Lelio was the finest actor and the most incomparable -singer in all Italy. I have no doubt that you will say to-morrow just -the opposite of what you say to-day, with the privilege of taking it all -back again the next day." - -"To-morrow and the day after to-morrow and every day of my life, my dear -cousin," the signora hurriedly interposed, "I will tell you that you are -a fool and Lelio an idiot." - -"Brava, signora," rejoined the cousin in an undertone, offering her his -arm to leave the salon; "he who loves you is a fool, and he who -displeases you an idiot." - -"Before your lordship and ladyship retire," I said, without the -slightest symptom of emotion, "I will call your attention to the fact -that this piano is in such a bad condition that I cannot possibly repair -it properly in one day. I am obliged to go now; but if such is your -wish, I will return to-morrow." - -"Certainly, signor," replied the cousin, with patronizing politeness, -half turning toward me; "you will oblige me if you will return -to-morrow." - -La Grimani, stopping him with a sudden and energetic motion of her head, -forced him to turn wholly around, and as she stood in the doorway, -leaning on his arm and eyeing me with an air of defiance, she said, as -she saw me close the piano and take my hat: - -"Will the signor come again to-morrow?" - -"Most certainly I shall not fail to do so," I replied, bowing to the -ground. - -She continued to detain her cousin in the doorway, so that I was obliged -to pass in front of them in order to go out; and, as I did so, I bowed -again and looked my Bradamante in the eye with an assurance befitting -the combat upon which we had entered. A gleam of undaunted courage -flashed from her eyes. Therein I read distinctly that my boldness did -not displease her, and that the lists were not closed to me. - -So I was at my post before noon the next day, and found my heroine at -hers, seated at the piano and touching the silent or jangling keys with -admirable indifference, as if she desired to prove to me by those -diabolical discords her detestation and contempt for music. - -I entered calmly and saluted her with as much respectful indifference as -if I were in reality a piano-tuner. I placed my hat carelessly on a -chair, I laboriously drew off my gloves, imitating the awkwardness of a -man unused to wearing them. I took from my pocket a wooden box filled -with spools of wire, and began to unwind enough for one string--all with -the utmost gravity and without affectation. The signora continued to -pound the hapless piano in unmerciful fashion, although the sounds she -produced were of a nature to put to flight the most hardened savages. I -at once saw that she was amusing herself by destroying its tone and -breaking it more and more, in order to provide work for me, and I -detected more coquetry than cruelty in that devilment; for she seemed -disposed to remain with me. - -Thereupon I said to her with a perfectly serious face: "Does your -ladyship think that the piano begins to be in tune?" - -"The harmony is satisfactory to me," she said, biting her lips to keep -from laughing, "and the sounds it gives forth are extremely pleasant to -the ear." - -"It is a fine instrument," said I. - -"And in very good condition," she rejoined. - -"Your ladyship is a very talented performer." - -"As you see." - -"That is a charming waltz, and exceedingly well executed." - -"Is it not? How could one help playing well on an instrument in such -perfect tune? You love music, signor?" - -"A little, signora; but your playing goes to my heart." - -"In that case I will continue." And she proceeded, with a fiendish -smile, to murder one of the _bravura_ airs she had heard me sing with -the greatest applause on the stage. - -"Is his lordship your cousin well?" I said, when she had finished. - -"He is hunting." - -"Is your ladyship fond of game?" - -"I am immoderately fond of it. And you, signor?" - -"I am sincerely and deeply partial to it." - -"Which do you like best, game or music?" - -"I like music at table, but at this moment I should like some game -better." - -She rose and rang. A servant appeared instantly, as if he were a piece -of machinery set in motion by the bell-rope. - -"Bring the game-pie that I saw in the pantry this morning," said the -signora; and two minutes later the servant reappeared with an enormous -pie, which he majestically placed on the piano at a sign from his -mistress. A large salver, covered with dishes and all the accessories -necessary for the refreshment of civilized beings, appeared as if by -magic on the other side of the instrument, and the signora, with a -strong but light touch, broke through the rampart of appetizing crust -and made a large breach in the fortress. - - -[Illustration: _THE STRANGE LUNCHEON._ - -"_This is a conquest in which our lords and masters -the French shall have no share," she said, taking -possession of a partridge which she placed on a -Japanese plate; and she went with it to the other -end of the room, where she squatted upon a velvet -hassock with gold tassels, and proceeded to devour it._] - - -"This is a conquest in which our lords and masters the French shall have -no share," she said, taking possession of a partridge which she placed -on a Japanese plate; and she went with it to the other end of the room, -where she squatted upon a velvet hassock with gold tassels, and -proceeded to devour it. - -I gazed at her in amazement, uncertain whether she was mad or was trying -to mystify me. - -"You are not eating?" she said, without moving. - -"Your ladyship has not ordered me to do so," I replied. - -"Oh! don't stand on ceremony," said she, continuing to eat with great -zest. - -The pie had such an alluring look and such a delicious odor that I -listened to the philosophical arguments of common sense. I placed -another partridge on another Japanese plate, which I rested on the -keyboard of the piano, and began to eat with as much gusto as the -signora. - -"If this is not the castle of the Sleeping Beauty," I thought, "and if -this cruel fairy is not the only living being in it, we shall soon see -an uncle or a father or an aunt or a governess, or somebody who is -supposed, in the eyes of honest folk, to serve as chaperon to this -untamed creature. In case of any such apparition, I should like to know -just how far this eccentric fashion of breakfasting on a piano, -tête-à-tête with the young lady of the house, will be considered -seemly. It matters little after all; I must find out just where these -extravagant whims are likely to carry me, and if there is a woman's -spite behind them, I will have my turn if I have to wait ten years." - -As I reflected thus I watched my fair hostess over the piano. She was -eating with superhuman appetite, and seemed to be in no wise possessed -by the idiotic mania which young ladies have of eating only in secret, -and pressing their lips together at table with a sentimental air, as if -they were of a nature superior to ours. Lord Byron had not yet -introduced the fashion of lack of appetite among the fair sex. So that -my capricious signora abandoned herself with all her heart to the -enjoyment of feasting, and in a few moments she returned to me and took -a fillet of hare and a pheasant's wing from the dismantled pie. She -looked at me without a smile, and said sententiously: "This east wind -gives me an appetite." - -"It seems that your ladyship is blessed with an excellent digestive -apparatus," I observed. - -"If one had not a good stomach at fifteen," she replied, "it would be as -well to throw up the sponge." - -"Fifteen!" I cried, looking at her closely and dropping my fork. - -"Fifteen years and two months," she replied, returning to her hassock -with her freshly-filled plate; "my mother is not yet thirty-two, and she -married again last year. Tell me, isn't it strange that a mother should -marry before her daughter? To be sure, if my darling little mother had -chosen to wait for me to be married, she would have had to wait a long -while. Who would ever marry a girl who, although she is beautiful, is -_stupid_ beyond anything one can imagine?" - -There was so much merriment and good-humor in the serious air with which -she made fun of me; she was such a pretty _loustig_, that tall girl with -the black eyes and the long curls falling over a neck as white as -alabaster; her manner of sitting on her cushion was so graceful yet so -chaste in its perfect naturalness, that all my suspicion and all my evil -designs vanished. I had determined to empty the decanter of wine in -order to put my scruples to sleep. I pushed the decanter away, and, -having satisfied my appetite, rested my elbow on the piano and began to -study her anew, and under a new aspect. That revelation as to her age -had thrown all my ideas into confusion. When I have desired to form an -opinion concerning a person, especially one of the fair sex, I have -always considered it a matter of the utmost importance to ascertain that -person's age as nearly as possible. Subtlety increases so rapidly in -women that six months more or less often make the difference between the -innocence which is deviltry and the deviltry which is innocence. Until -then I had imagined that La Grimani was at least twenty years old. She -was so tall and strong and dark, and there was so much self-assurance in -her glance, in her bearing, in her every movement, that everybody made -the same mistake at first sight. But on examining her more closely I -realized my error. Her shoulders were broad and powerful, but her breast -was still undeveloped. Although her whole attitude was womanly there -were certain little ways and certain expressions of the face which -revealed the child. Nothing more was needed than that hearty appetite, -that total absence of coquetry, and the audacious impropriety of the -tête-à-tête she had arranged to have with me, to make it clear to my -eyes that I had to do, not as I had supposed at first, with a proud and -crafty woman of the world, but with a mischievous boarding-school girl, -and I thrust aside with horror the idea of abusing her imprudence. - -I remained for a long while absorbed in this scrutiny, forgetting to -reply to the significant challenge I had received. She looked at me -earnestly, and I no longer thought of avoiding her glance, but of -analyzing it. She had the loveliest eyes in the world, flush with her -face, and very wide open; their glance was always sharp and direct, and -grasped its object instantly. It was imperious but not overbearing, a -very rare thing in a woman. It was the revelation and the expression of -a fearless, proud, and sincere mind. It questioned all things with an -air of authority, and seemed to say: "Conceal nothing from me: for I -have nothing to conceal from anybody." - -When she saw that I did not shrink from her gaze, she was startled but -not frightened; and, rising abruptly, she invited the explanation which -I desired to propose. - -"Signor Lelio," she said, "if you have finished your breakfast, you will -kindly tell me why you came here." - -"I will obey you, signora," I replied, picking up her plate and glass, -which she had left on the floor, and carrying them back to the piano; -"but I beg your ladyship to tell me whether the piano-tuner shall answer -you sitting at the instrument, or whether the actor Lelio shall stand -before you, hat in hand, ready to retire after he has had the honor to -talk with you." - -"Signor Lelio will kindly sit in this chair," she said, pointing to one -on the right hand of the fire-place, "and I in this," she added, taking -her seat on the left side, facing me and about ten feet away. - -"Signora," I said, as I sat down, "in order to obey you I must go back a -little. About two months ago I was playing in _Romeo and Juliet_ at San -Carlo. There was in one of the proscenium boxes----" - -"I can refresh your memory," interposed La Grimani. "There was in one of -the proscenium boxes on the right of the stage a young woman whom you -considered beautiful; but on looking at her more closely, it seemed to -you that her face was so devoid of expression that you shouted to one of -the ladies on the stage, loud enough to be overheard by the young woman -in question----" - -"In heaven's name! signora," I interrupted, "do not repeat the words -that escaped from me in my delirium, and let me tell you that I am -subject to attacks of nervous irritation which make me almost insane. -When I am in that condition everything offends me, everything causes me -intense suffering----" - -"I do not ask why it was your pleasure to announce so concisely your -judgment of the young woman in the box; I simply ask you for the rest of -the story." - -"In order to be perfectly truthful and coherent, I must insist upon the -prologue. Under the influence of a first attack of fever, the beginning -of a serious illness from which I have hardly recovered, I fancied that -I could read profound contempt and frigid irony on the incomparably -lovely face of the young lady in the proscenium box. I was annoyed at -first, then seriously disturbed, and at last completely upset, so that I -lost my head and yielded to a brutal impulse in order to put an end to -the fatal spell which benumbed all my faculties and paralyzed me at the -most powerful and most important part of my rôle. Your ladyship must -forgive me for an act of madness; I believe in magnetism, especially on -those days when I am ill and when my brain is as weak as my legs. I -fancied that the young lady in the box had an injurious influence over -me; and during the cruel disease which took full possession of me on the -day following my offence, I will confess that she often appeared in my -delirium; but always haughty, always threatening, and promising me that -I should pay dearly for the blasphemy that fell from my lips. Such, -signora, is the first part of my story." - -I made ready my shield to ward off a volley of epigrams by way of -comment on this strange tale, which, although true, was most improbable, -I must confess. But the young Grimani, gazing at me with a gentleness -which I had no idea could be found in conjunction with her type of -beauty, said to me, leaning a little heavily on the arm of her chair: - -"Your face does in truth show signs of great suffering, Signor Lelio; -and if I must confess the whole truth, when I recognized you yesterday, -I said to myself that I must have observed you very carelessly on the -stage; for you seemed to me then ten years younger; but to-day you seem -no older than you did on the stage; but still I think that you look ill, -and I am very, very sorry that I caused you any irritation." - -I involuntarily moved my chair nearer to hers; whereupon she at once -resumed her mocking and capricious tone. - -"Let us pass to the second part of your story, Signor Lelio," she said, -playing with her fan, "and be kind enough to tell me why, instead of -avoiding the person the sight of whom is so hateful and prejudicial to -you, you have come as far as this in pursuit of her." - -"At this point the author finds himself in an embarrassing position," I -replied, pushing back my chair, which moved very easily at the slightest -turn in the conversation. "Shall I tell you that chance alone led me -here? If I do, will your ladyship believe it? and if I say that it was -not chance, will your ladyship tolerate such impertinence?" - -"It matters very little to me," she rejoined, "whether it is chance, or -magnetic attraction, as you will say, perhaps, that brings you to this -neighborhood; I simply desire to know by what chance you became a -piano-tuner?" - -"The chance of inspiration, signora; a pretext to obtain admission to -this house was all that I wanted." - -"But why did you wish to be admitted to this house?" - -"I will answer frankly if your ladyship will deign first to tell me what -chance induced you to admit me, although you recognized me at the first -glance?" - -"The chance of caprice, Signor Lelio. I was bored to death here, alone -with my cousin, or with a pious old aunt whom I hardly know; and while -one is hunting and the other at church, I thought that I might venture -to enliven by a mad freak the ghastly solitude in which I am left to -pine away." - -Once more my chair of its own motion approached hers, but I hesitated to -take her hand. At that moment she seemed to me decidedly forward. There -are some girls who are born women, and who are corrupt before they have -lost their innocence. - -"She is a child, beyond doubt," I thought, "but a child who is tired of -being one, and I should be a great fool not to reply to allurements -resorted to so coolly and boldly. Faith! I am sorry for the cousin! Why -does he care more for hunting than for his kinswoman?" - -But the signora paid no heed to the agitation that had laid hold of me. -"Now the farce is at an end," she continued; "we have eaten my cousin's -game and I have talked with an actor. I have fooled my aunt and my -future spouse. Last week my cousin was furious because I praised you -with what he considered too great warmth. Now, when he mentions you to -me, and when my aunt says that the actors are all excommunicated in -France, I will look at the floor with a modest and beatific expression, -and laugh in my sleeve to think that I know Signor Lelio, and that I -breakfasted with him, in this very room, without anyone's suspecting it. -But now, Signor Lelio, you must tell me why you chose to obtain -admission to this house by playing a false rôle?" - -"Forgive me, signora--you just now said something which touched me -deeply. You said, did you not, that you praised me last week with _great -warmth_?" - -"Oh! I only did it to make my cousin angry. I am not naturally -enthusiastic." - -When she flaunted me, it revived my zest for the adventure, and -emboldened me. - -"Since you are so frank with me, signora," I rejoined, "I will be -equally frank with your ladyship. I sought admission to this house with -the intention of atoning for my crime and humbly imploring the -forgiveness of the divine beauty I blasphemed." - -As I spoke, I slipped from my chair, and knelt at La Grimani's feet, and -was very near taking possession of her lovely hands. She did not seem -greatly moved by my action; but I saw that, to conceal a slight -embarrassment, she pretended to be examining the Chinese mandarins whose -gowns of purple and gold gleamed resplendent on her fan. - -"Really, signor," she said, without looking at me, "you are very good to -think that you owe me an apology. In the first place, if I have a stupid -look, you are not at all to blame for noticing it; in the second place, -if I have not, it is a matter of absolute indifference to me whether or -not you are persuaded that I have." - -"I swear by all the gods, and particularly by Apollo, that I said what I -did only because I was angry or mad, or it may be because of a very -different sentiment, which was then but just born and was already sowing -confusion in my mind. I saw that you considered me detestable, and that -you were not inclined to be at all indulgent to me; could I tranquilly -resign myself to lose the only approbation which it would have been -sweet and glorious for me to obtain? In a word, signora, I am here; I -discovered your abode, and though I barely knew your name, I sought you, -pursued you, and reached you in spite of distance and obstacles. I am -here at your feet. Do you think that I would have surmounted such -difficulties if I had not been tortured by remorse, not because of you, -who justly disdain to consider the effect of your charms on a poor -player like myself; but because of God, whose fairest work I insulted -and undervalued?" - -While I was speaking, I ventured to take one of her hands; but she -suddenly sprang to her feet, saying: - -"Rise, signor, rise! here is my cousin coming back from hunting." - -Indeed, I had barely time to run to the piano and open it before Signor -Ettore Grimani, in hunting costume and gun in hand, entered the room and -deposited his well-filled game-bag at his cousin's feet. - -"Oh! don't come so near me," said the signora; "you are horribly dirty, -and all those bleeding creatures make me sick. Oh! Hector, go away, I -beg, and take all these nasty great dogs with you; they smell of mud and -soil the floor." - -The cousin was fain to be content with that outburst of gratitude, and -to go to his room and perfume himself at his leisure. But he had no -sooner gone out than a sort of duenna appeared and informed the signora -that her aunt had returned and wished to see her. - -"I will go," La Grimani replied; "and do you, signor," she said, turning -to me, "take this key away with you, as it is broken, and glue it -firmly. You must bring it back to-morrow, and finish replacing the -missing strings. I can count on you, signor? You will be sure to come?" - -"Yes, signora, you may rely upon it," I replied; and I took my leave, -carrying away the wrong key, which was not broken. - -I was on hand promptly on the following day. But do not think, my -friends, that I was in love with that young person; the utmost that can -be said is that she attracted me. She was extremely lovely; but I saw -her beauty with the eyes of the body, I did not feel it through the eyes -of the soul; if, from time to time, I was on the point of falling in -love with that childish petulance, my doubts soon returned, and I said -to myself that a girl who lied so coolly to her cousin and her governess -might well have lied to me; that, perhaps, she was twenty years old or -more, as I had thought at first; and that it was quite likely that she -had indulged in some previous escapades for which she had been secluded -in that dull villa, with no other society than a pious old woman whose -duty it was to scold her, and an excellent young cousin predestined to -take upon his back, in his guilelessness, all her errors, past, present -and to come. - -I found her in the salon with the dear cousin and three or four hunting -dogs, who came very near devouring me. The signora, who was nothing if -not capricious, honored those noble beasts with very different treatment -from that of the day before, and although they were hardly less dirty -and disagreeable, she obligingly allowed them to lie, one by one, or all -in a heap, on a large sofa of red velvet with gold fringe. From time to -time she sat down in the midst of them, petting some and playfully -teasing others. - -Before long, I concluded that this revulsion of feeling toward the dogs -was a bit of affectionate coquetry addressed to her cousin; for the -fair-haired Signor Ettore seemed greatly flattered by it, and I don't -know which he loved best, his cousin or his dogs. - -She was bewilderingly vivacious, and she seemed to be keyed up to such a -high pitch, the glances that she bestowed upon me in the mirror were so -keen-edged, that I longed for the cousin's departure. And he did leave -the room before long. The signora gave him an errand to do. She had to -ask him several times, but he finally obeyed an imperious glance, -accompanied by a: "Don't you propose to go?" uttered in a tone which he -seemed altogether incapable of defying. - -He had no sooner disappeared than I turned away from the piano and rose, -looking in the signora's eyes to see whether I should go to her or wait -for her to come to me. She, too, was standing, and seemed to be trying -to read in my face what I was likely to do. But she gave me little -encouragement, and as I fancied that her lips were partly open to give -me a harsh lesson if I should be unlucky enough to lose my wits in that -perilous engagement, I began to feel somewhat disturbed inwardly. I do -not know why it was that that exchange of glances, at once alluring and -distrustful, that effervescence of our whole being which kept us both as -motionless as statues, that alternation of audacity and fear which -paralyzed me at what was perhaps the decisive moment of my adventure, -and even La Grimani's black velvet gown, and the bright sunlight which -shone into the room through the dark curtains and expired in a fantastic -blending of light and shadow at our feet--the hour, the burning -atmosphere, and the restrained beating of my heart--all combined to -bring vividly to my mind an analogous scene of my youth: Signora Bianca -Aldini, in the shadow of her gondola, enchaining with a magnetic glance -one of my feet on the shore of the Lido, the other on the boat. I felt -the same mental bewilderment, the same inward agitation, the same -desire, ready to give place to the same wrath. "Can it be," I thought, -"that it was self-esteem that made me desire Bianca then, or is it love -that makes me desire La Grimani to-day?" - -It was not possible for me to rush forth into the fields, singing -recklessly, as I had on that former occasion leaped ashore on the Lido, -to revenge myself for a bit of innocent coquetry. There was no other -course for me to adopt than to resume my seat, no other way for me to -revenge myself than to begin again on the major fifth: -_A-mi-la-E-si-mi_. - -I must admit that that method of venting my spite could not afford me a -signal triumph. An imperceptible smile fluttered about the corners of -the signora's mouth when I bent my legs to sit down, and it seemed to me -that I could read these pleasant words on her face: "Lelio you are a -child."--But, when I abruptly rose again, ready to hurl the piano across -the room and fly to her feet, I plainly read these terrible words in her -black eye: "Signor, you are a madman." - -"Signora Aldini," I reflected, "was twenty-two years old, I was fifteen -or sixteen; now I am more than twenty-two. That Bianca should govern me -absolutely was natural enough, but it is not natural that I should be -made a fool of by this girl. So I must be cool." - -I calmly resumed my seat, saying: - -"Excuse me, signora, if I look at the clock. I cannot stay long, and -this piano seems to be in sufficiently good condition for me to go about -my business." - -"In good condition!" she replied with unmistakable irritation. "You have -put it in such good condition that I am afraid I can never play on it as -long as I live. I am very angry about it. You undertook to tune it; you -must do it, Signor Lelio, for your own reputation." - -"Signora," I replied, "I care no more about tuning this piano than you -do about playing on it. I obeyed your command to return, in order not to -compromise you by putting an end to this pretence too suddenly. But your -ladyship must understand that the jest cannot be prolonged forever; that -by the third day it ceases to be amusing except to you, and that on the -fourth it would be a little dangerous to me. I am neither so wealthy nor -so renowned that I can afford to waste time. Will not your ladyship -allow me to retire in a few moments; then a genuine tuner will come this -afternoon and finish my work, saying that I am ill and have sent him in -my place. I can find a substitute who will be grateful to me for -providing him with a new customer, all without betraying our little -secret, and without making myself known." - -The signora did not say a word in reply; but she turned as pale as -death, and again I felt that I was beaten. The cousin returned. I could -not restrain a gesture of annoyance. The signora noticed it, and again -she triumphed; and again, seeing that I did not propose to go, she -amused herself by playing upon my inward agitation. - -She became very rosy and animated once more. She plied her cousin with -cajoleries which were so close to the line between affection and irony -that soon neither he nor I knew what to think. Then she suddenly turned -her back on him, and, coming to my side, requested me, in a low tone and -with a mysterious air, to keep the piano a quarter of a tone below the -pitch, because she had a contralto voice. Whom was she trying to impose -upon--her cousin or myself--by telling me that great secret as if it -were a matter of such importance? I was on the point of going up to -Hector and shaking hands with him, for we seemed to me to cut an equally -foolish and laughable figure. But I saw that the excellent youth -attached more importance to the matter than I did, and he cast a -sidelong glance at me with such a profound and crafty expression, that I -had much difficulty in refraining from laughter. I answered La Grimani, -under my breath and with a still more confidential air: - -"I have anticipated your wishes, signora, and the piano is just in tune -with the orchestra at San Carlo, where they lowered the pitch last -season because of my cold." - -Thereupon, the signora took her cousin's arm with a theatrical gesture, -and hurriedly led him into the garden. As they walked back and forth in -front of the house, and I could see their shadows on the curtain, I took -my stand behind the curtain and listened to their conversation. - -"That is exactly what I wanted to say to you, my dear cousin," the -signora was saying. "This man has a strange, terrifying face; he has no -idea what a piano is, and he will never finish tuning it. You will see! -He is a mere adventurer, mark my words. We must keep our eyes on him, -and do you hold your watch in your hand when he comes near you. I would -take my oath that when I leaned over the piano, unsuspectingly, to tell -him to lower the pitch, he put out his hand to steal my gold chain." - -"Nonsense! you are joking, cousin! It is impossible that a thief should -be so bold. That isn't what I want to say to you at all, and you pretend -not to understand me." - -"I pretend, Hector? You accuse me of pretending? I pretend! Come, tell -me if you really think you are worth the trouble it would give me to -make up a falsehood?" - -"This severity is quite useless, cousin. It seems at all events that I -am worth the trouble of seeking an opportunity to make humiliating -speeches to me." - -"But what are you talking about, I would ask, cousin? And why do you say -that this man----" - -"I say that this man is not a piano-tuner, that he is not tuning your -piano, that he never tuned a piano in his life. I say that he never -takes his eye off you, that he watches your every movement, that he -breathes in every word you speak. I say that he must have seen you -somewhere, at Naples or Florence, at the theatre or driving, and that he -fell in love with you." - -"And gained admittance here, _in disguise_, to see me, and perhaps to -seduce me, the scoundrel, the villain!" - -Having said thus much with great vehemence, the signora threw herself -back on a bench, laughing uproariously. As I saw the cousin stalking -toward the door of the salon, apparently in a furious passion, I -returned to my post, and, arming myself with my tuning hammer, resolved -to strike him down with it if he should attempt to insult me; for I had -already set him down as one of the men who arrange matters so as to -avoid fighting, and who call their servants when one challenges them -within hearing of the antechamber. - -"He will fall dead before he pulls that bell-rope," I thought, as I -grasped the hammer and cast a rapid glance about me. But my adventure -did not long retain this dramatic aspect. I saw the signora and her -cousin, arm-in-arm once more, walking on the terrace, and pausing from -time to time at the half-open glass door to look at me, she with a -mocking, he with an embarrassed air. I no longer knew what they were -saying to each other, and my wrath rose higher and higher in my throat. - -Suddenly a pretty soubrette joined them on the terrace. The signora -spoke to her with much animation, now laughing, now assuming an -imperious tone. The soubrette seemed to hesitate; the cousin seemed to -be urging the signora to do nothing extravagant. At last the maid came -to me in some confusion, and said, blushing to the roots of her hair: - -"Signor, the signora bids me say to you, in so many words, that you are -an insolent person, and that you would do much better to tune the piano -than to stare at her as you are doing. Pardon me, signor. I am very sure -that it is a jest." - -"And I take it as such," I replied; "but say to the signora that I -present my profound respects to her, and that I beg her not to think me -insolent enough to stare at her. I was not so much as thinking of her, -and if I must tell you the truth, it was you, my lovely maid, whom I saw -out in the field, and who engrossed me so that I forgot to go on with my -work." - -"I, signor," said the soubrette, blushing more hotly than ever, and -hanging her head in her embarrassment. "How could I engross the signor?" - -"Because you are a hundred times prettier than your mistress," I said, -putting my arm about her and giving her a kiss before she had time to -suspect my purpose. - -She was a pretty village girl, the signora's foster sister. She too was -dark and tall and slender, but timid in her manner, and as artless and -gentle in her bearing as her young mistress was cunning and determined. -She was thrown into such confusion by being embraced so unceremoniously -before the signora, who had come to the door of the salon, followed by -her idiotic cousin, that she fled, hiding her face in her blue apron -with silver border. The signora, who was equally surprised to find that -I took her impertinence so philosophically, stepped back, and the -cousin, who had seen nothing, repeated several times the question: "What -is it? What's the matter?" - -The poor girl would not pause in her flight to reply, and the signora -laughed a forced laugh which I pretended not to notice. - -A few moments later she reappeared alone. Her face wore an expression -which was meant to be severe, but was really confused and distressed. - -"It is lucky for us both, signor," she said in a voice that trembled -slightly, "that my cousin is simple-minded and gullible; for you must -know that he is of a jealous and quarrelsome disposition." - -"Really, signora?" I replied, gravely. - -"Do not laugh at me, signor," she retorted angrily. "One may be easily -deceived when one loves; but the name of Grimani stands for personal -courage." - -"I do not doubt it, signora," I replied in the same tone. - -"I beg you, therefore, signor," she continued, still speaking with -involuntary vehemence, "not to come here again; for all this jesting -might end badly." - -"That is as you please, signora," I replied, as imperturbably as before. - -"It is evident, however, signor, that you find it very amusing; for you -do not seem disposed to put an end to it." - -"If I amuse myself, signora, it is by way of being obedient, as we all -amuse ourselves in Italy under the reign of Napoleon the Great. I wished -to retire an hour ago, and it was you who forbade it." - -"I forbade it? Do you dare to say that I forbade it?" - -"I intended to say, signora, that you did not think of it; for I -expected that you would give me some sort of a plausible pretext for -taking my leave in the midst of my task; and, for my own part, it was -impossible for me to imagine such a pretext. It would be so entirely -unnatural in the present condition of the piano, and I am so firmly -resolved to do nothing that can possibly compromise you, that I will -return to-morrow." - -"You will do nothing of the kind." - -"I beg your ladyship's pardon, I will return to-morrow." - -"For what purpose, signor? And by what right?" - -"I will return to gratify Signor Ettore's curiosity, for he is very much -puzzled to know who I am; and I will return because you have yourself -given me the right to face the man with whom you were pleased to make -merry at my expense." - -"Is that a threat, Signor Lelio?" she asked, concealing her fright -beneath the cloak of pride. - -"No, signora. A man who does not falter before another man is not of the -threatening sort." - -"But my cousin said nothing to you, signor; I did all this jesting -against his will." - -"But he is jealous and quarrelsome. Moreover, he is brave. Now, I am not -jealous, signora, I have neither the right nor the desire to be. But I -am quarrelsome, and it may be too that, although my name is not Grimani, -I am a brave man; what do you know about it?" - -"Oh! I have no doubt of it, Lelio!" she cried, in a tone that made me -quiver from head to foot, it was so entirely different from what I had -been hearing for two or three days. - -I looked at her in amazement; she lowered her eyes with an air at once -modest and proud. Once again I was disarmed. - -"Signora," I said, "I will do whatever you choose, as you choose, and -nothing that you do not choose." - -She hesitated a moment. - -"You cannot come again as a piano-tuner," said she; "if you do, you will -compromise me, for my cousin will certainly tell my aunt that he -suspects you of being a libertine in search of adventures; and, when my -aunt hears it, she will tell my mother. And let me tell you Signor -Lelio, that there is only one person in the world for whom I care in the -least, and that is my mother; that there is only one thing in the world -that I dread, and that is my mother's displeasure. And yet she brought -me up very badly, as you see; she spoiled me shockingly; but she is so -dear, so sweet, so loving, so sad--She loves me so dearly--if you only -knew!" - -A great tear glistened in the signora's black eye; she tried for some -time to hold it back, but at last it fell on her hand. Deeply moved, -assailed and overthrown by the formidable little god with whom one -cannot afford to trifle, I put my lips to that lovely hand and greedily -drank that sweet tear, a subtle poison which kindled a flame in my -bosom. I heard the cousin returning, and, rising hurriedly, I said: - -"_Addio_, signora, I will obey you blindly, I swear upon my honor; if -your cousin insults me, I will swallow his insults; I will play a -coward's part rather than cause you to shed a second tear." - -With that I bowed to the ground and left the room. The cousin did not -seem to me so bellicose as she had depicted him; for he saluted me first -when I passed him. I walked slowly from the house, depressed beyond -words; for I was in love, and I must not return. On becoming sincere, my -love became generous. - -I turned several times to catch a glimpse of the signora's velvet dress, -but she had disappeared. As I was passing through the gate of the park, -I saw her in a narrow path which followed the wall on the inside. She -had run, in order to reach that point as soon as I did, and when I spied -her she strove to assume a slow and pensive gait; but she was all out of -breath and her lovely black hair was disarranged by the branches she had -hurriedly thrust aside as she ran through the underbrush. I started to -join her, but she made a sign to indicate that somebody was following -her. I tried to pass through the gate, but I could not make up my mind -to do it. Thereupon, she waved her hand to bid me farewell, accompanying -the gesture with an unutterable glance and smile. At that moment she was -more beautiful than I had ever seen her. - -I placed one hand on my heart, the other on my forehead, and hurried -away, mad with joy and love. I had seen the branches moving just behind -the signora; but, there as elsewhere, the cousin arrived too late. I had -disappeared. - -I found in my room a letter from Checchina. "I had started to join you," -she wrote, "and to rest a while from the fatigues of the stage in the -pleasant shade of Cafaggiolo. I was upset at San Giovanni; I have -nothing worse than a few bruises, but my carriage is broken. The -bungling workmen in this village say they must have three days to repair -it. Take your calèche and come and fetch me, unless you wish me to die -of ennui in this muleteers' tavern." - -I set out an hour later and reached San Giovanni at daybreak. - -"How does it happen that you are alone?" I asked, trying to escape from -her long arms and her sisterly embraces, which had become unendurable to -me since my illness, because of the perfumes with which she saturated -herself beyond all reason, whether because she fancied that she was -imitating the great ladies, or because she loved passionately anything -that appeals to the senses. - -"I have had a row with Nasi," she said; "I have left him, and I don't -want to hear any more about him!" - -"It can't be very serious," I replied, "as you are on your way to take -up your quarters in his house." - -"On the contrary, it is very serious; for I have forbidden him to follow -me." - -"And apparently you intended to deprive him of the means of doing so, -when you took his carriage to run away in, and broke it on the road." - -"It's his own fault, for I had to keep urging the postilions. Why has he -adopted the bad habit of following me? I would have liked to be killed -by the accident, and have him arrive in time to see me die, and to learn -what it is to thwart a woman like me." - -"That is to say, a mad woman. But you will not have the pleasure of -dying for revenge, in the first place, because you are not hurt, and -secondly, because he has not run after you." - -"Oh! he probably passed through here last night without suspecting that -I was here, and you must have met him on your way. We will go and join -him at Cafaggiolo." - -"He is just crazy enough for that." - -"If I were perfectly sure of it, I would like to remain here in hiding a -week, just to worry him and make him think that I have gone to France, -as I threatened to do." - -"As you please, my dear: I salute you and leave my carriage at your -service. For my own part, I have little liking for this region and this -inn." - -"If you were not a dolt, you would avenge me, Lelio!" - -"Thanks! I have not been insulted; nor you either, I fancy." - -"Oh! I have been mortally insulted, Lelio!" - -"I suppose he refused to give you twenty thousand francs' worth of white -gloves, and insisted on giving you diamonds worth fifty thousand -instead; something like that, no doubt?" - -"No, no, Lelio; he wants to marry!" - -"Provided that he doesn't want to marry you, that is a most pardonable -desire." - -"And the most horrible part of it is that he had an idea that he could -induce me to consent to his marriage and still retain my good graces. -After such an insult, would you believe that he had the audacity to -offer me a million, on condition that I would allow him to marry, and -that I would remain faithful to him!" - -"A million! the devil! that is at least the fortieth million I have -known of you refusing, my poor Checchina. The millions you have spurned -would be enough to keep the whole royal family!" - -"You are always joking, Lelio. The day will come when you will see that, -if I had chosen, I might have been a queen like some other women. Are -Napoleon's sisters any more beautiful than I am? Have they more talent, -more wit, more spirit? Ah! how well I could manage a kingdom!" - -"Almost as well as you could keep books by double entry in a business -house. Upon my word! you have put on your wrapper wrong side before, and -you are wiping tears from your lovely eyes with one of your silk -stockings. Put aside these ambitious dreams for a moment, dress -yourself, and let us be off." - -As we returned to the villa at Cafaggiolo, by dint of allowing my -travelling companion to give a free rein to her heroic declamations, her -digressions and her boasting, I succeeded, not without difficulty, in -finding out that honest Nasi had been fascinated at a ball by a lovely -young person, and had asked her hand in marriage; that he had gone to -Checchina to inform her of his determination; that, as she had adopted -the expedient of fainting and going into convulsions, he had been so -dismayed by the violence of her despair, that he had begged her to -consent to a middle course and to remain his mistress in spite of his -marriage. Thereupon Checchina, seeing that he was weakening, had -haughtily refused to share her lover's heart and purse. She had ordered -post-horses, and had signed, or pretended to sign, an engagement with -the Opera at Paris. The easy-going Nasi had been unable to endure the -thought of giving up a woman whom he was not sure that he had ceased to -adore, for a woman whom he was not sure that he had begun to adore. He -had begged the singer's forgiveness; he had retracted his offer of -marriage, and had ceased his attentions to the illustrious beauty, whose -name Checchina did not know. Checchina had allowed herself to be -prevailed upon; but she had learned indirectly, on the day following -this great sacrifice, that Nasi was entitled to no great credit -therefor, inasmuch as, between the scene of frenzied despair and the -reconciliation, his offer of marriage had been rejected, and he had been -cast aside in favor of a happy rival. Checchina, wounded to the quick, -had left Naples, leaving a withering letter for the count, in which she -declared that she would never see him again; and, taking the road to -France--for all roads lead to Paris as well as to Rome--she hastened to -Cafaggiolo to wait until her lover should come in pursuit of her, and -place his body across her path to prevent her from proceeding farther -with a vengeance of which she was beginning to be a little weary. - -All this was not mere vulgar and avaricious scheming on Checchina's -part. She loved opulence, it is true, and could not do without it; but -she had such implicit faith in her destiny, and was naturally so -audacious, that she constantly risked the good fortune of one day for -that of the morrow. She passed the Rubicon every morning, confident of -finding on the other bank a more flourishing realm than the one she left -behind. Thus there was nothing base and low-minded in this feminine -trickery, because there was in it no element of fear. She did not play -at grief; she made neither false promises nor hypocritical prayers. In -her moments of vexation she had genuine paroxysms of nervous excitement. -Why were her lovers so credulous as to mistake the vehemence of her -anger for the result of profound grief resisted by pride? Is it not our -own fault when we are duped by our own vanity? - -Moreover, even if Checchina did play a bit at tragedy in her boudoir, in -order to preserve her empire, she had an ample excuse in the absolute -sincerity of her conduct. I have never known a woman more fearlessly -frank, more faithful to lovers who were faithful to her, more reckless -in her admissions when she revenged herself in kind, more incapable of -recovering her power by means of a falsehood. To be sure her love was -not strong enough for that, and no man seemed to her to be worth the -trouble of putting constraint upon herself and of humiliating herself in -her own eyes by prolonged dissembling. I have often thought that women -are very foolish to demand so much frankness when we are so far from -appreciating the merit of fidelity, I have often learned by my own -experience that one must have more passion to carry out a falsehood, -than courage to tell the truth. It is so easy to be sincere with persons -one does not love! It is so pleasant to be sincere with those whom one -has ceased to love! - -This simple reflection will explain why it was impossible for me to love -Checchina for long, and also why it was impossible for me not to esteem -her always, despite her insolent outbreaks and her immeasurable -ambition. I soon found out that she was a detestable mistress and an -excellent friend; and then, too, there was a sort of poetic charm in -that adventuress-like energy, in that disregard for wealth inspired by -the very love of wealth, in that incredible conceit, always crowned by -even more incredible success. She was forever comparing herself -favorably to Napoleon's sisters, and making herself out the equal of -Napoleon himself. That was amusing and not too ridiculous. In her own -sphere she was as bold and as fortunate as the great conqueror. She -never had for lovers any but young, handsome, rich and honorable men; -and I do not believe that a single one of them ever complained of her -after leaving or losing her; for in reality she had a great and noble -heart. She could always atone for a thousand foolish and mischievous -exploits by one decisive display of strength of character and kindness -of heart. In a word, she was brave, both morally and physically, and -people of that temperament are always good for something, wherever they -may be and whatever they may do. - -"My poor child," I said to her as we drove along, "you will be nicely -caught if Nasi takes you at your word and lets you start for France." - -"There's no danger of that," she said with a smile, forgetting that she -had just told me that she would not for anything in the world allow -herself to be softened by his submission. - -"But suppose that does happen, what will you do? You have nothing in the -world, and you are not in the habit of keeping the gifts of your lovers -when you part. That is what makes me esteem you a little bit, despite -all your faults. Come, tell me, what is going to become of you?" - -"I shall be very sorry," she replied; "yes, really, Lelio, I shall -regret it; for Nasi is an excellent fellow, he has a big heart. I will -bet that I shall weep for--I don't know how long! But after all, one -either has a destiny or one hasn't. If it is God's will that I go to -France, it would seem to be because I am likely to have no more luck in -Italy. If I am parted from that dear, affectionate lover of mine, I have -no doubt that it is because a more devoted and more courageous man is -waiting yonder for me, to marry me, and prove to the world that love is -superior to all prejudices. Mark my words, Lelio, I shall be a princess, -perhaps a queen. An old fortune-teller of Malamocco predicted it in my -horoscope when I was only four years old, and I have always believed it: -a proof that it must be so!" - -"A conclusive proof," I rejoined, "an unanswerable argument! Queen of -Barataria, I salute you!" - -"What is Barataria? Is it Cimarosa's new opera?" - -"No, it is the name of the star that presides over your destiny." - -We arrived at Cafaggiolo and did not find Nasi there. - -"Your star is waning, fortune is abandoning you," I said to the girl -from Chioggia. - -She bit her lips and replied at once, with a smile: - -"There is always a mist on the lagoons before sunrise. In any event we -must keep up our strength and so be prepared for the blows of destiny." - -As she spoke, she took her seat at the table and ate almost the whole of -a pope's eye stuffed with truffles; after which she slept twelve hours -without a break, passed three hours at her toilet, and sparkled with wit -and nonsense until evening. Nasi did not appear. - -For my own part, amid the merriment and animation which that excellent -girl had brought into my solitude, I was absorbed by the memory of my -adventure at the Grimani villa, and tortured by the longing to see my -fair patrician once more. But how was I to do it? I cudgelled my brain -to no purpose to invent some means which would not compromise her. When -I left her I had sworn to do nothing imprudent. As I reviewed in my mind -my impressions of those last moments, when she had appeared in such an -artless and touching aspect, I felt that I could not act inconsiderately -with respect to her without forfeiting my own esteem. I dared not make -inquiries concerning her friends, still less concerning her domestic -arrangements. I had refrained from making acquaintances in the -neighborhood, and now I almost regretted that I had done so; for I might -have learned by accident what I dared not ask directly. The servant who -waited upon me was a Neapolitan who had come with me, and, like myself, -had never been in that region before. The gardener was stupid and deaf. -An old care-taker, in charge of the villa since Nasi's childhood, might -perhaps have enlightened me; but I was afraid to question her, for she -was inquisitive and loquacious. She was much disturbed to know where I -went; and, during the three days that I had failed to bring her any game -or to give an account of my rambles, she was so wrought up that I -trembled lest she should discover my romance. The bare mention of a name -might put her on the track. So I was very careful not to pronounce it. I -did not wish to go to Florence; I was too well known there; if I showed -my face there, I was certain to be overwhelmed with visits. The -unhealthy and misanthropical frame of mind which had caused me to seek -the solitude of Cafaggiolo, had led me likewise to conceal my name and -profession from the very servants in the house as well as from the -neighbors. It was necessary now for me to guard my _incognito_ more -closely than ever; for I supposed that the count would soon arrive, and -that his fancy for marriage would lead him to desire to bury in mystery -Checchina's presence in his house. - -Two days passed with no word from Nasi, who might have enlightened me; -and I had not ventured to take a step out-of-doors. Checchina had a -heavy cold and considerable pain, as a result of the mishaps of her -journey. It may well be that, as she did not quite know what course to -adopt with me, and as she preferred not to seem to be waiting for her -faithless lover, after swearing that she would not wait for him, she was -not sorry to have a valid excuse for remaining at Cafaggiolo. - -One morning, finding that I could not stand it any longer, for that -signorina of fifteen with her little white hands and great black eyes -was always in my head, I took my game-bag, called my dog, and started -out to hunt, forgetting nothing but my rifle. In vain did I prowl about -the Grimani villa; I did not see a living being, I did not hear a human -sound. All the gates of the park were locked, and I noticed that on the -main avenue, at the end of which one could catch a glimpse of the -house-front, some large trees had been felled and their dense foliage -completely intercepted the view. Had that barricade been erected with -premeditation? Was it an act of revenge on the cousin's part? Was it a -precaution taken by the aunt? Was it a mischievous exploit of my heroine -herself? "If I thought that!" I said to myself. But I did not think it. -I much preferred to suppose that she was lamenting over my absence and -her own captivity, and I formed innumerable plans to set her free, each -more absurd than the last. - -On returning to Cafaggiolo, I found in Checchina's bedroom a pretty -village maiden whom I at once recognized as La Grimani's foster sister. - -"Here's a lovely child who refuses to give her message to anybody but -you, Lelio," said Checchina, who had seated her unceremoniously on the -side of her bed. "I have taken her under my protection because old -Catalina insisted on sending her away with an insolent answer. But I saw -by her modest manner that she is a good girl, and I haven't asked her -any injudicious questions. Isn't that true, my pretty brunette? Come, -don't be shamefaced, but go into the salon with Signor Lelio. I am not -inquisitive, I tell you; I have something else to do besides annoy my -friends." - -"Come, my dear child," I said to the soubrette, "and have no fear; you -have only honorable people to deal with here." - -The poor girl stood in the middle of the floor, bewildered, and in such -distress that it made one's heart ache. Although she had had the courage -to conceal the object of her visit up to that time, she took from her -pocket, in her confusion, and half revealed a note which she instantly -thrust out of sight again, distracted between her fears for her own -honor and for her mistress's. - -"Oh dear!" she said at last in a trembling voice, "suppose the signora -should think that I came here with any evil intention!" - -"My poor child, I think nothing at all," replied kind-hearted Checchina, -opening a book and reading it with eye-glasses, although her sight was -excellent; for she thought that it was good form to have weak eyes. - -"The signora is so kind and received me with so much confidence," -continued the girl. - -"Your appearance must inspire confidence in everybody," replied the -singer, "and if I am kind to you, it is because you deserve it. Come, -come; I am not inquisitive, I tell you; say what you have to say to -Signor Lelio, it will not vex me in the slightest degree. Come, take her -away, Lelio! Poor child! she thinks she is ruined. Nonsense, my dear, -actors are just as honorable as other people, be sure of that." - -The girl made a low courtesy and followed me into the salon. Her heart -was beating as if it would break the lacings of her green velvet waist, -and her cheeks were as scarlet as her skirt. She hastily took the letter -from her pocket and, after handing it to me, stepped back, she was so -afraid that I would be as rude to her as I was before. I reassured her -by the tranquillity of my demeanor, and asked her if she had anything -more to say to me. - -"I am to wait for the answer," she replied, with an air of the most -profound distress. - -"Very well," said I, "go and wait in the signora's apartment." - -And I escorted her back to Checchina. - -"This excellent girl," I explained, "wishes to enter the services of a -lady in Florence whom I know very well, and she has come to me for a -letter of recommendation. Will you allow her to stay with you while I go -and write it?" - -"Yes, yes, to be sure!" replied Checchina, motioning her to sit down, -and smiling at her with an amiable and patronizing air. This sweetness -and simplicity of manner toward persons of her former station in life -were among the Chioggian's excellent qualities. While she mimicked the -affectations of the great lady, she retained the brusque and ingenuous -kindliness of the fisherman's child. Her manners, though often -ridiculous, were always affable; and if she did enjoy lying in state -under a satin coverlet trimmed with lace, for the benefit of that poor -village girl, she found none the less, in her heart and on her lips, -affectionate words to encourage her in her humility. - -The signora's letter was in these words: - -"Three days without coming again! Either you have little wit, or you -have little desire to see me again. Is it for me to find a way of -continuing our friendly relations? If you have not tried to find one, -you are a fool; if you have tried and failed, you are what you accuse me -of being. To prove that I am neither _haughty_ nor _stupid_, I write to -make an appointment with you. To-morrow, Sunday, morning I shall be at -eight o'clock mass, at _Santa Maria del Sasso_, Florence. My aunt is -ill; only Lila, my foster sister, will accompany me. If the footman or -coachman notice you or question you, give them money; they are rascals. -_Addio_, until to-morrow." - -To reply, to promise, to swear, to express my thanks, and to hand to -Lila the most bombastic of love-letters, was an affair of a few moments -only. But when I attempted to slip a gold piece into the messenger's -hand, I was checked by a glance instinct with melancholy dignity. From -pure devotion to her mistress she had yielded to her caprice; but it was -evident that her conscience reproached her for that weakness, and that -to offer to pay her for it would have been to punish and mortify her -cruelly. At that moment I reproached myself bitterly for the kiss I had -ventured to steal from her, in order to pique her mistress, and I tried -to atone for my fault by escorting her to the end of the garden with as -much respect and courtesy as I could have shown to any great lady. - -I was very nervous all the rest of the day. Checchina noticed my -preoccupation. - -"Come, Lelio," she said, toward the close of the supper which we ate -together on a pretty little terrace shaded by grape-vines and jasmine; -"I see that you are worried about something; why not open your heart to -me? Did I ever betray a secret? Am I not worthy of your confidence? Have -I deserved to have you withdraw it from me?" - -"No, my dear Checchina," I replied, "I appreciate your discretion"--and -it is certain that she would have kept Brutus's secrets as well as ever -Portia did;--"but," I added, "even if all my secrets belong to you, -there are others----" - -"I know what you are going to say," she exclaimed. "That there are -others which don't belong to you alone, and which you have no right to -betray; but if I guess them in spite of you, ought you to carry your -scruples so far as to deny, all to no purpose, what I know as well as -you do? You know, my friend, I understand that pretty girl's call -perfectly well; I saw her hand in her pocket, and before she had said -good-morning to me, I knew that she had brought a letter. The timid and -distressed air of that poor Iris"--Checchina had been very fond of -mythological references ever since she had spelled out Tasso's _Aminta_ -and Guarini's _Adone_--"told me plainly enough that there was a genuine -romance behind it, a great lady afraid of public opinion, or a young -damsel risking her future union with some worthy citizen. One thing is -certain, that you have made one of those conquests of which you men are -so proud, because they are supposed to be difficult and require a lot of -mystery. You see that I have guessed the secret, don't you?" - -I answered with a smile. - -"I won't ask you any more questions," she continued; "I know that you -are not likely to confide the person's name, nor her rank, nor her place -of abode to me; indeed, those things don't interest me. But I may ask -you whether you are in raptures or in despair, and you must tell me if I -can be of any use to you." - -"If I need you, I will tell you so," I replied; "and as for telling you -whether I am in raptures or in despair, I can assure you that I am in -neither as yet." - -"Very good! very good! beware of one no less than of the other; for, in -either case, there's no occasion for such great excitement." - -"What do you know about it?" - -"My dear Lelio," she replied in a sententious tone, "let us suppose that -you are in raptures. What is one yielding woman more or less in the life -of a man of the stage: of the stage, where the women are so beautiful -and so sparkling with wit? Do you propose to lose your head over a -conquest in aristocratic society? Vanity! mere vanity! Society women are -as inferior to us in every respect as vanity is to glory." - -"That is true modesty, and I congratulate you," I replied; "but might we -not give the aphorism another turn, and say that it is vanity, not love, -which brings society men to the feet of actresses?" - -"Oh! but what a difference there is!" cried Checchina. "A great and -beautiful actress is a creature privileged by nature and exalted by the -prestige of art; exposed to the eyes of men in all the splendor of her -beauty, her talent and her renown, is it not natural that she should -arouse admiration and kindle desire? Why, then, should you actors, who -triumph over the great majority of us before the great nobles do; you, -who marry us when we are inclined to settle down, and who assert your -rights over us when we have passionate hearts; you, who allow others to -play the rôle of magnificent lovers and who are always the preferred -lovers, or at all events the friends of our hearts--why should you turn -your thoughts toward these patrician women who smile at you with their -lips only, and applaud you with the tips of their fingers? Ah! Lelio, -Lelio! I am afraid that in this instance your good sense has gone astray -in some idiotic adventure. If I were in your place, rather than be -flattered by the ogling of some middle-aged marchioness, I would turn my -attention to some pretty chorus-girl, La Torquata, or La Gargani. Yes! -yes!" she cried, becoming more earnest as she saw me smiling; "such -girls as those are apparently more forward, but I maintain that they are -in reality less corrupt than your salon Cidalisas. You would not be -obliged to play a long sentimental comedy with them, or engage in a -wretched contest of bright sayings. But that's just like you men! The -crest on a carriage, the livery of a footman, those are enough to -embellish in your eyes the first titled harridan who bestows a -patronizing glance on you." - -"My dear friend," I replied, "all that you say is most sensible; but -your argument is weak in that it is not based upon a single fact. For my -honor's sake, you might, I think, have assumed that old age and ugliness -are not indispensable qualities in any patrician who falls in love with -me. There have been some who were young and lovely who have had eyes in -their heads, and since you compel me to say absurd things in absurd -language, in order to close your mouth, let me tell you that the object -of my _flame_ is fifteen years old, and that she is as beautiful as the -goddess _Cypris_ whose exploits you learn by heart in _bouts-rimés_." - -"Lelio!" cried Checchina, laughing heartily, "you are the most -insufferable coxcomb that I ever met." - -"If I am a coxcomb, fair princess," I cried, "you are somewhat to blame -for it, so people say." - -"Very well," said she, "if you are telling the truth, if your mistress, -by reason of her beauty, deserves the follies you are about to commit -for her, beware of one thing, and that is that you do not find yourself -in the depths of despair within a week." - -"What in the deuce is the matter to-day, Signora Checchina, that you say -such disagreeable things to me?" - -"Let us not joke any more," she said, putting her hand on mine with a -friendly gesture. "I know you better than you know yourself. You are -seriously in love, and you are going to suffer--" - -"Nonsense, nonsense! in your old age, Checca, you can retire to -Malamocco and tell fortunes for the boatmen on the lagoons; meanwhile, -my fair sorceress, allow me to go to meet my fortune without cowardly -presentiments." - -"No! no! I will not be quiet until I have drawn your horoscope. If it -were a question of a woman who is suited to you, I should not think of -vexing you; but a woman of noble birth, a society woman, a marchioness -or a woman of the middle class, I don't care which it may be--I hate -them all! When I see that idiot Nasi throw me aside for a creature who -doesn't come up to my knees, I will stake my head, why, I say to myself -that all men are vain and foolish. And so I predict that you will not be -loved, because a society woman cannot love an actor; and if by any -chance you are loved, you will be all the more miserable; for you will -be humiliated." - -"Humiliated! What do you mean by that, Checchina?" - -"By what do you recognize love, Lelio? by the pleasure you give or the -pleasure you receive?" - -"By both, of course! What are you driving at?" - -"Is it not the same with devotion as with pleasure? Must it not be -mutual?" - -"To be sure; what then?" - -"How much devotion do you expect to find in your mistress? a few nights -of pleasure? You seem at a loss to reply." - -"I am, in truth; I told you that she is fifteen years old, and I am an -honorable man." - -"Do you hope to marry her?" - -"I, marry a rich girl of a noble family? God forbid! In heaven's name, -do you think that I am consumed with matrimoniomania, as you are?" - -"Why, I suppose that you desire to marry her; do you think that she will -consent? are you sure of it?" - -"But I will tell you that I wouldn't marry anyone, on any -consideration." - -"If that is because your suit would be ill received, your rôle is a -very pitiful one, my dear Lelio!" - -"_Corpo di Bacco_! you bore me, Checchina!" - -"That is my purpose, dear friend of my heart. Now, then, you do not -think of marrying, because that would be impertinent presumption on your -part, and you are a man of spirit. You do not think of seduction, -because that would be a crime, and you are a man of heart. Tell me, is -your romance likely to be very amusing?" - -"Why, you dense, matter-of-fact creature, you know nothing whatever -about sentiment. If I choose to indulge in a pastoral idyll, who will -prevent me?" - -"That is very pretty in music; in love it must be decidedly dull." - -"But it is neither criminal nor humiliating." - -"Then why are you so excited? Why are you so sad, Lelio?" - -"You are dreaming, Checchina; I am as placid and light-hearted as usual. -Let us have no more of these empty words; I do not ask you to be silent -about the little I have told you, for I have confidence in you. To -reassure you concerning my frame of mind, let me tell you this one -thing: I am more proud of my profession of actor than ever nobleman was -of his marquisate. Nobody on earth has the power to make me blush. -Whatever you may say, I shall never be conceited enough to aspire to -extraordinary devotion, and if a spark of love warms my heart at this -moment, the modest joy of inspiring a little love is sufficient for me. -I do not deny the numerous superiorities of actresses over society -women. There is more beauty, grace, wit and fire in the wings than -elsewhere, I know. There is no more modesty, unselfishness, chastity and -loyalty among great ladies than elsewhere; that, too, I know. But youth -and beauty are idols which make us bend the knee everywhere; and as for -the prejudices of rank, it is a good deal for a woman brought up under -tyrannical laws to bestow in secret one poor glance, one poor -heart-throb upon a man whom her prejudices forbid her to look upon as a -being of her own species. That poor glance, that poor palpitation, would -be a mere trifle to the unbounded desire born of a great passion; but as -I have told you, cousin, I have not got to that point." - -"But how do you know that you won't come to it?" - -"When I do, it will be time enough to preach to me." - -"It will be too late; you will suffer!" - -"Ah! Cassandra, I prithee let me love on!" - -At seven o'clock the next morning I was wandering slowly about in the -shadow of the pillars of Santa Maria. That assignation was the very -greatest piece of imprudence that my young signora could commit, for my -face was as well known to most of the people of Florence as the ground -under their horses' feet. So I took the most minute precautions, -entering the city by the uncertain light of dawn, keeping out of sight -in the chapels, with my face buried in my cloak, gliding along -noiselessly, taking care not to disturb by the slightest sound the -faithful at prayer, among whom I tried to discover the lady of my -thoughts. I did not wait long; pretty Lila appeared from behind a -pillar, and indicated by her glance an empty confessional, whose -mysterious recess would hold two people. In the girl's quick and -intelligent glance there was a touch of sadness which went to my heart. -I knelt in the confessional, a few moments later, a dark shadow glided -in and knelt beside me. Lila bent over a chair, between us and the -congregation, who, luckily, were engrossed at that moment by the -beginning of the mass, and falling noiselessly on their knees to the -tones of the bell of the _introit_. - -The signora was enveloped in a long black veil, and she held it over her -face with her hands for a few seconds. She did not speak to me, but bent -her lovely head as if she had come to the church to pray; but, despite -all her efforts to appear calm, I saw that her breast was heaving, and -that, in the midst of her audacity, she was terror-stricken. I dared not -encourage her with loving words, for I knew how quick she was at -sarcastic repartee, and I could not be sure what tone she would take -with me under those delicate circumstances. I realized simply this, that -the more she exposed herself with me, the more respectful and submissive -my attitude must be. With such a nature as hers, presumption would have -been speedily repelled by scorn. At last I understood that I must break -the silence, and I thanked her awkwardly enough for the favor of that -meeting. My timidity seemed to restore her courage. She softly raised a -corner of her veil, rested her arm with less constraint on the rail of -the confessional, and said to me in a half-mocking, half-melting tone: - -"For what do you thank me, please?" - -"For relying upon my obedience, signora," I replied; "for not doubting -the eagerness with which I would come to receive your orders." - -"I understand then," she retorted--and her tone was altogether -jocular--"that your presence here is an act of pure obedience?" - -"I should not dare to take the liberty to have any thoughts concerning -the present situation, except that I am your slave, and that, having a -sovereign command to lay upon me, you bade me come and kneel here." - -"You are a man of the most perfect breeding," she replied, slowly -unfolding her fan in front of her face, and pulling up her black mitt -over her beautifully moulded arm with as much ease of manner as if she -were speaking to her cousin. - -She continued in that strain, and in a very few moments I was bewildered -and almost saddened by her strange and captious chatter. - -"What is the use," I said to myself, "of so much audacity for so little -love? An assignation in a church, in plain sight of a whole -congregation, the danger of being discovered, cursed and disowned by her -whole family and her whole caste--all for the sake of exchanging jokes -with me, as she might with a friend of her own sex in her box at the -theatre! Does she delight in adventures from pure love of danger? If she -takes such risks without loving me, what will she do for the man she -does love? And then, how do I know how many times and for whom she has -already exposed herself in the same way? If she has never done it, it is -only because she has never had the opportunity. She is so young! But -what an endless series of gallant adventures the perilous future has in -store for her, and how many men will abuse their opportunities, and how -many stains will mar this lovely flower, so intensely eager to bloom in -the wind of passion!" - -She noticed my preoccupation, and said to me, in a sharp tone: - -"You look as if you were bored?" - -I was about to reply when a slight sound made us both turn our heads -involuntarily. The wooden shutter which covers the grated window through -which the priest receives confessions opened behind us, and a yellow, -wrinkled face, with a stern and penetrating glance, appeared in the -opening like a bad dream. I hastily turned away before that unwelcome -intruder had time to examine my features. But I dared not go away, for -fear of attracting the attention of those roundabout. Thereupon I heard -these words addressed to my confederate: - -"Signora, the person beside you did not come to the Lord's house to -listen to the sacred service. I have seen by his entire attitude and by -the distraction it has caused you, that the church is being profaned by -an illicit conversation. Order this person to retire or I shall be -compelled to inform the signora, your aunt, with how little fervor you -listen to the blessed mass, and how willingly you open your ears to the -empty words of young men who steal to a place by your side." - -The shutter was instantly closed, and we remained for some seconds -absolutely motionless, afraid of betraying ourselves by the slightest -movement. Then Lila came nearer to us and whispered to her mistress: - -"For heaven's sake, let us go, signora! Abbé Cignola, who has been -prowling about the church for a quarter of an hour, just went into the -confessional and came out again almost immediately, after looking at you -through the window, I have no doubt. I am terribly afraid that he -recognized you or heard what you said." - -"I should think so, for he spoke to me," replied the signora, whose -black eyebrows had contracted during the abbé's harangue, with an -expression of bravado. "But it matters little to me." - -"I must go, signora," I said, rising; "by remaining another moment, I -shall consummate your ruin. Since you know where I live, you will let me -know your wishes----" - -"Stay," she said, detaining me by force. "If you go away, I lose my only -means of exculpating myself. Don't be afraid, Lila. Don't say a word, I -forbid you. Give me your arm, cousin," she added, raising her voice -slightly, "and let us go." - -"Can you think of such a thing, signora? All Florence knows me. You will -never be able to pass me off as your cousin." - -"But all Florence doesn't know me," she replied, putting her arm through -mine and forcing me to walk with her. "Besides, I am _hermetically_ -veiled, and you have only to pull your hat over your eyes. Come! pretend -you have a toothache! Put your handkerchief to your face. Quick! here -are some people who know me and are looking at me. Be more -self-possessed and quicken your pace." - -Talking thus, and walking rapidly, she reached the church door, leaning -on my arm. I was about to take leave of her and lose myself in the crowd -that was coming out with us, for the mass was at an end, when Abbé -Cignola appeared once more, standing on the porch and pretending to talk -with one of the sacristans. His sidelong glance followed us closely. - -"Isn't that so, Hector?" said the signora, as we passed him, putting her -head between the abbé's face and mine. Lila was trembling in every -limb; so was the signora, but her alarm redoubled her courage. A -carriage with the crest and livery of the Grimanis drove up with a great -clatter, and the multitude, who always gaze greedily at any display of -magnificence, crowded under the wheels and the horses' feet. Moreover, -the Grimani equipage always attracted a particularly large crowd of -beggars; for the pious aunt was accustomed to dispense alms lavishly as -she drove along. A tall footman at the carriage door was obliged to push -them back in order to open it; and I walked on, still escorting the -signora, still followed by Abbé Cignola's inquisitorial glance. - -"Get in with me," said the signora, in a tone that admitted of no -denial, and with a vigorous pressure of my arm, as she placed her foot -on the step. I hesitated; it seemed to me that this last audacious -stroke would inevitably be her ruin. - -"Get in, I say," she repeated in a sort of passion; and as soon as I was -seated by her side she herself raised the window, barely giving Lila -time to take her seat opposite us, and the servant to close the door. In -an instant we were driving at full speed through the streets of -Florence. - -"Don't be afraid, my dear Lila," said the signora, putting her arm -around her foster sister's neck, and kissing her affectionately on the -cheek; "everything will come out all right. Abbé Cignola has never seen -my cousin, and it is impossible that he should have seen Signor Lelio -distinctly enough ever to discover the fraud." - -"Oh! signora, Abbé Cignola is the kind of man one can't deceive." - -"Bah! what do I care for your Abbé Cignola? I tell you that I make my -aunt believe whatever I choose." - -"And Signor Hector will say that he didn't go to mass with you," I -observed. - -"Oh! as for that, I promise you that he will say whatever I want him to; -if necessary I will convince him that he actually was at mass while he -fancied that he was hunting." - -"But the servants, signora? The footman looked at Signor Lelio with a -strange expression, then suddenly started back, as if he had recognized -the piano-tuner." - -"Very good! you must tell him that I met _that man_ in the church and -bade him good-morning; that he told me that he had an errand to do in -our neighborhood, and that, as I am very obliging, I offered to save him -the trouble of going there on foot. We will set him down in front of the -first country house we come to. And you can say in addition that I am -very heedless, that my aunt has very good reason to scold me, but that I -am an excellent young person, although a little wild, and that it -grieves you to see me so constantly reprimanded. As they are all fond of -me, and as I will give each one of them a little present, they will say -nothing at all. Enough of this! can't either of you think of something -else to say to me than lamentations over a thing that is done? Signor -Lelio, how do you like this gloomy city of Florence? Don't you think -that all these black old palaces, iron-bound to the very eaves, look -exactly like prisons?" - -I tried to carry on the conversation in an unconcerned tone; but I was -very far from satisfied. I felt no inclination for adventures in which -all the risk was taken by the woman, and all the wrong was on my side. -It seemed to me that she treated me very inconsiderately in exposing -herself thus for my sake to perils and disasters which she would not -permit me to meet or avert. - -I was so distressed that I remained silent in spite of myself. The -signora, having attempted in vain to maintain the conversation, also -held her peace. Lila's face continued to wear a terrified expression. We -had left the city. Twice I observed that we had reached what seemed a -favorable place to stop the carriage and set me down; twice the signora -refused in an imperious tone, saying that we were too near the city and -that there was still danger of meeting some acquaintance. - -For a quarter of an hour we had not spoken a word, and the situation was -becoming intensely disagreeable. I was displeased with the signora, -because she had involved me, without my consent, in an adventure in -which I could no longer proceed at my own pleasure. I was even more -displeased with myself for allowing myself to be led into a series of -childish exploits of which all the shame must fall upon me; for, even in -the eyes of the least scrupulous of men, to seduce or compromise a girl -of fifteen must always be considered an evil and cowardly performance. -I was on the point of ordering the coachman to stop myself, when, on -turning toward my travelling companions, I saw that the signora was -weeping silently. I uttered an exclamation of surprise, and, moved by an -irresistible impulse, I took her hand; but she abruptly withdrew it, and -throwing her arms about Lila's neck, who was weeping also, hid her face -on her faithful soubrette's bosom and sobbed as if her heart would -break. - -"In heaven's name, why do you weep in such heartrending fashion, my dear -signora?" I cried, almost falling at her feet. "If you do not wish to -send me away in utter despair, tell me if this unlucky adventure is the -cause of your tears, and if I can help to turn aside the consequences -which you dread." - -She raised her head from Lila's shoulder, and replied, glancing at me -with something like indignation: - -"You must think me a great coward!" - -"I think nothing except what you tell me," I said. "But you turn away -from me, and you weep; how can I tell what is taking place in your mind? -Ah! if I have offended or displeased you, if I am the involuntary cause -of your unhappiness, how can I ever forgive myself?" - -"So you think that I am afraid, do you?" she rejoined, in a tone at once -tender and bitter. "You see me weeping, and you say: 'She is like a -little girl who is afraid of being scolded!'" - -She wept more bitterly than ever, concealing her face in her -handkerchief. I strove to comfort her, I implored her to answer me, to -look at me, to explain herself; and, in that moment of confusion and -emotion, my feeling toward her was so paternal and friendly that chance -brought to my lips, amid the sweet names by which I called her, the name -of a child who had once been dear to me. That name I had been accustomed -for many years to apply, unconsciously as it were, to all the lovely -children whom I chanced to caress. "My dear signora," I said, "dear -Alezia----" I paused, afraid that I might have offended her by giving -her accidentally a name that was not her own. But she did not seem -offended; she looked at me with some surprise and allowed me to take her -hand, which I covered with kisses. - -Meanwhile the carriage was rolling on like the wind, and before I had -had time to obtain the explanation which I sought so eagerly, Lila -informed us that the Grimani villa was in sight and that we absolutely -must part. - -"What!" I cried; "am I to leave you thus? for how long a time must I eat -my heart out in this horrible uncertainty?" - -"Come to the park to-night," she said; "the wall is not very high. I -will be in the narrow path that runs by the wall, near a statue which -you will easily find by turning to your right from the gate. At one -o'clock!" - -Again I kissed the signora's hands. - -"Oh! signora! signora!" exclaimed Lila, in a mild, sad tone of reproach. - -"Do not thwart me, Lila," said the signora, vehemently; "you know what I -told you this morning." - -Lila seemed utterly dismayed. - -"What did the signora say?" I asked her. - -"She wanted to kill herself," sobbed Lila. - -"Kill yourself, signora!" I cried. "You who are so lovely, so -light-hearted, so happy, so dearly loved!" - -"So dearly loved, Lelio!" she replied, in a despairing tone. "By whom am -I loved, pray? only by my poor mother and by this dear Lila." - -"And by the poor artist who dares not tell you so," I added, "but who -would give his life to make you love yours." - -"You lie!" she exclaimed passionately; "you do not love me!" - -I seized her arm in a convulsive grasp and gazed at her in stupefaction. -At that moment the carriage suddenly stopped. Lila had pulled the cord. -I jumped out, and tried, as I saluted my travelling companions, to -resume the humble demeanor of the piano-tuner. But the red eyes of the -two young women did not escape the footman's penetrating glance. He -examined me with the greatest attention, and, when the carriage drove -on, he turned several times to look after me. I had a vague idea that -his features were familiar to me; but I had not dared to look him in the -eye, and it did not occur to me to try to recall where I had seen that -coarse, pale, heavily bearded face. - -"Lelio! Lelio!" said Checchina, when we were at supper, "you are in high -spirits to-day. Look out that you do not weep to-morrow, my boy." - -At midnight, I had scaled the park wall; but I had taken only a step or -two on the path when a hand grasped my cloak. To guard against accident, -I had provided myself with what, in my village, we call a "night-knife," -and I was about to produce it when I recognized the fair Lila. - -"Just a word, Signor Lelio, in great haste," she said in a low voice; -"do not say that you are married." - -"What do you mean by that, my dear child? I am not." - -"It doesn't concern me," rejoined Lila; "but I beg you not to mention -that lady who lives with you." - -"You are on my side then, my dear Lila?" - -"Oh! no, signor, certainly not! I do all that I can to prevent the -signora from doing all these imprudent things. But she won't listen to -me, and if I should tell her of the circumstance that might and should -part her from you forever,--I don't know what would happen!" - -"What do you mean? Explain yourself." - -"Alas! you saw to-day what an excitable person she is. She has such a -strange nature! When she is disappointed, she is capable of anything. A -month ago, when she was taken away from her mother to be shut up here, -she talked of taking poison. Whenever her aunt, who is really a great -scold, irritates her, she has nervous paroxysms which amount almost to -insanity; and last night, when I ventured to say to her that perhaps you -loved someone else, she rushed to her chamber window, crying like a -madwoman: 'Ah! if I thought so!' I threw myself upon her, I unlaced her, -I closed her windows, I didn't leave her during the night, and she cried -all night, or else fell asleep for a moment to wake with a start and run -about her room like a lunatic. Ah! Signor Lelio, she makes me very -unhappy; I love her so dearly! for, in spite of her outbreaks and her -eccentricities, she is so kind, so affectionate, so generous! Do not -drive her to frenzy, I implore you; you are an honorable man, I am sure, -I know it; everybody said so at Naples, and the signora listened with -passionate eagerness to all the stories of your kind deeds. So you won't -deceive her, and since you love the beautiful lady whom I saw at your -house----" - -"Who told you that I love her, Lila? She is my sister." - -"Oh! Signor Lelio! you are deceiving me! for I asked that lady if you -were her brother, and she said no. You will think that I am very -inquisitive, and that it is none of my business. No, I am not -inquisitive, Signor Lelio; but I entreat you to be a friend to my poor -mistress, to be like a brother to his sister or a father to his -daughter. Just think a moment! she is a child fresh from the convent and -hasn't any idea of the evil things that may be said about her. She says -that she doesn't care for them, but I know how she takes such things -when they come. Talk to her very gently, make her understand that you -cannot see her in secret; but promise that you will call on her at her -mother's when we return to Naples; for her mother is so good and loves -her daughter so dearly that I am sure she would invite you to her house -to give her pleasure. And then, too, perhaps the signora's madness will -subside little by little. One can often change the current of her -thoughts with amusements and distractions. I told her about the -beautiful Angora cat I saw in your salon, which rubbed against you so -while you were reading her letter that you had to kick her to drive her -away. My mistress doesn't care at all for dogs, but she loves cats. She -was taken with such a longing for yours, that you ought to give it to -her; I am sure that it would keep her busy and cheer her up for several -days." - -"If my cat is all that is necessary to console your mistress for my -absence," I replied, "there is no great harm done, and the remedy is -simple enough. Be very sure, Lila, that I will act toward your mistress -as a father and a friend. Have confidence in me. But let me go to her, -for perhaps she is waiting for me." - -"One word more, Signor Lelio. If you want the signora to listen to you, -don't tell her that the common people are as good as the people of -quality. She is tainted with her nobility. Don't form a bad opinion of -her on that account, for it's a family disease; all the Grimanis are -like that. But that does not prevent my young mistress from being kind -and charitable. It is simply an idea she has got in her head, which -makes her fly into a great passion when any one thwarts her. Would you -believe that she has already refused I don't know how many handsome -young men, and very rich too, because they were not well-born enough for -her. However, Signor Lelio, agree with her at first on every subject, -and you will soon persuade her of whatever you choose. Oh! if you could -only persuade her to marry a young count who proposed for her not long -ago!" - -"Her cousin, Count Hector?" - -"Oh, no! he is a fool, and he bores everybody to death; even his dogs -begin to yawn as soon as they see him." - -As I listened to Lila's prattle, my fatherly manner having put her -completely at her ease, I led her toward the rendezvous. Not that I did -not listen to her with profound interest; all these details, trivial as -they were in appearance, were very important in my eyes; for they led me -by induction to a better knowledge of the enigmatical personage with -whom I had to deal. I must confess also, that they cooled my ardor to a -considerable extent, and that I began to look upon it as a most absurd -thing to be the hero of a romance in competition with the first -plaything that might come to hand; with my cat, Soliman, or--who could -say?--perhaps with Cousin Hector himself at the very outset. Thus Lila's -advice was identical with the advice which I gave myself and which I was -most desirous to follow. - -We found the signora sitting at the foot of the statue, dressed all in -white--a costume by no means adapted to a mysterious meeting in the open -air, but for that very reason perfectly in harmony with her character. -As I approached, she sat so absolutely still that she might easily have -been taken for another statue sitting at the feet of the white marble -nymph. - -She made no reply to my first words. With her elbow resting on her knee -and her chin on her hand, she was so pensive, so lovely, and her -attitude so graceful and stately, draped in her white veil in the -moonlight, that I should have believed her to be wrapt in sublime -contemplation, had not her love of cats and armorial bearings recurred -to my memory. - -As she seemed determined to take no notice of me, I tried to take one of -her hands; but she drew it away with superb disdain, saying in a tone -more majestic than Louis XIV. ever had at his command: - -"I have been obliged to wait!" - -I could not refrain from laughing at that solemn quotation; but my -merriment served only to increase her gravity. - -"Do not stand on ceremony!" she said. "Laugh on; the hour and the place -are admirably suited to that!" - -She uttered these words in a tone of bitter indignation, and I saw that -she was really angry. Thereupon, suddenly assuming a serious expression, -I asked her forgiveness for my unintentional offence, and told her that -I would not for anything in the world cause her one moment's -unhappiness. She looked at me with an uncertain expression, as if she -dared not believe me. But I began to speak to her with such evident -sincerity and warmth of my devotion and affection, that she soon allowed -herself to be convinced. - -"So much the better!" she exclaimed, "so much the better! for, if you -did not love me, you would be very ungrateful, and I should be very -unhappy."--And as I gazed at her, utterly confounded by her words, she -continued: "O Lelio! Lelio! I have loved you ever since the evening that -I first saw you at Naples, playing Romeo, when I looked at you with that -cold and contemptuous expression which disturbed you so. Ah! you were -very eloquent and very impassioned in your singing that evening! The -moon shone upon you as it does now, but less lovely than it does now, -and Juliet was dressed in white as I am. And yet you say nothing to me, -Lelio!" - -That extraordinary girl exerted a constant fascination over me which led -me on, always and everywhere, at the pleasure of her caprice. When we -were apart, my mind threw off her domination, and I could analyze freely -her words and her acts; but when I was once with her, I speedily and -unconsciously ceased to have any other will than hers. That outburst of -affection reawoke my slumbering passion. All my fine resolutions to be -prudent vanished in smoke, and I found naught but words of love on my -lips. At every instant, it is true, I felt a sharp pang of remorse; but -it made no difference--all my fatherly counsels ended in loving phrases. -A strange fatality--or rather that cowardice of the human heart which -makes us always yield to the allurement of present joys--impelled me to -say just the opposite of what my conscience directed. I gave myself the -most convincing reasons you can imagine to prove that I was not doing -wrong: it would have been useless cruelty to talk to that child in -language which would have torn her heart asunder; there was still time -enough to tell her the truth--and a thousand other things of the same -sort. One circumstance which seemed to lessen the danger actually -contributed to increase it: I mean Lila's presence. If she had not been -there, my natural uprightness would have led me to watch myself all the -more carefully, for the reason that anything would be possible in a -moment of excitement, and I probably should not have gone forward a -single step for fear of going too far. But, being sure that I had -nothing to fear from my senses, I was much less careful of my words. So -that it was not long before I reached the pitch of the most intense, -albeit the purest passion; and, spurred on by an irresistible impulse, -I seized a lock of the girl's floating hair and kissed it twice. - -I felt then that it was quite time for me to go, and I walked rapidly -away, saying: - -"Until to-morrow." - -Throughout this scene I had forgotten the past, little by little, and -had not once thought of the future. The voice of Lila, who went with me -to the gate, roused me from my trance. - -"O Signor Lelio!" she said to me, "you didn't keep your promise. You -were not my mistress's father nor her friend to-night." - -"It is true," I replied gloomily; "it is true, I have done wrong. But -never mind, my child, to-morrow I will make up for it all." - -The next day it was the same story, and so with the next and the next. -But I felt that I was more deeply in love every day; and the sentiment -which, on the first day, was simply an inclination to fall in love, had -become a genuine passion on the third. Lila's heart-broken air would -have told me so plainly enough, had I not discovered it first myself. -All along the road I reflected upon the future of that love-affair, and -I returned home pale and distressed. Checchina soon found out what was -the matter. - -"Poor boy!" she said, "I told you that you would weep before long." - -And as I opened my mouth to remonstrate, she added: "If you have not -wept yet, you soon will; and there is reason enough. Your position is a -pitiful one, and, what is worse, absurd. You love a mere girl whom your -pride forbids you to try to marry, and whom your delicate sense of honor -deters you from seducing. You do not wish to ask for her hand, in the -first place because you know that if she bestowed it on you she would -make a tremendous sacrifice, and would expose herself for your sake to -innumerable discomforts, and you are too generous to accept a happiness -which would cost her so dear; secondly, because you dread being refused, -and are too proud to run the risk of being treated with disdain. Nor do -you want to take what you have determined not to ask for, and I am very -sure that you would much prefer to go off and be a monk than to take -advantage of the ignorance of a girl who trusts you. But you must decide -on something, my poor fellow, if you don't want the end of the world to -come and find you sighing for the stars and throwing kisses to the -clouds. Let dogs bay at the moon; we artists must live at any price and -every moment. So make up your mind." - -"You are right," I replied gravely. And I went to bed. - -The next night I went again to the rendezvous. I found the signora -excited and in high spirits, as on the preceding night; but I was -taciturn and gloomy for some time. She joked me at first on my -_carbonaro_-like manner, and asked me laughingly if I was thinking of -dethroning the pope or reconstructing the Roman empire. Then, as I did -not reply, she gazed earnestly at me, and said, taking my hand: - -"You are sad, Lelio. What is the matter?" - -Thereupon I opened my heart to her, and said that my passion for her was -a misfortune to me. - -"A misfortune? how so?" - -"I will tell you, signora. You are the heiress of a noble and -illustrious family. You have been brought up to respect your ancestors -and to believe that antiquity and splendor of race are all that there is -in life. I am a poor devil without a past, a nobody, who have made -myself what I am. And yet I believe that one man is as good as another, -and I do not consider myself any man's inferior. Now, it is clear that -you would not marry me. Everything would forbid it, your principles, -your habits, your position in life. You, who have refused patricians -because their families were not noble enough, would be less able and -less likely than any other woman to stoop to a paltry actor like myself. -From princess to player is a long way, signora. So I cannot be your -husband. What is left for me? The prospect of a mutual passion, -wretchedly unhappy if it were never gratified, or the hope of being your -lover for a time. I cannot accept either, signora. To live together, -overflowing with a passion always intense and never allayed, to love -each other in fear and trembling, and to distrust ourselves as well as -each other, is to subject ourselves voluntarily to suffering that would -be intolerable because it would be senseless, hopeless, and aimless. Nor -would I, even if I could, possess you as a lover. My happiness would be -assailed by anxiety from too many sources to be at all complete. On the -one hand, I should always be afraid of compromising your good name; I -could not sleep with the dread of being the cause of great misery to -you, or of your utter ruin; during the day I should pass long hours -looking out for accidents which might bring misery upon you and -consequently upon me, and at night I should waste the time that we were -together in trembling at the fall of a leaf or at the cry of a bird. -Everything would be a source of alarm to me. And why should I thus toss -my life to a multitude of empty phantoms, to be consumed? for a -love-affair of which I could never foresee the duration and which would -afford no compensation for the uncertainties of to-day in a sense of -security for the morrow; for sooner or later, signora,--I must say it -frankly--you would marry. And you would marry a man of noble birth and -of great wealth like yourself. It would cost you a bitter pang, I know; -I know that you have a generous and sincere heart; you would desire most -earnestly to remain faithful to me, and your heart would rebel at the -thought of uttering a word which would put an end to all my happiness -surely, if not to my life. But the constant assaults of your family, the -very necessity of preserving your reputation, would drive you to take -that course in spite of yourself. You would struggle a long while, no -doubt, and vigorously. Your love for me would still be gentle and -tender, but less effusive; and I, witnessing your grief, as I am not the -man to accept long and painful sacrifices without returning them in -kind, should myself force you, by going away from you, to resign -yourself to that necessary marriage, preferring to consecrate my whole -future to sorrow rather than to change your destiny by a dastardly act. -That is what I wanted to say to you, signora, and you must understand -now why I am afraid that this love would prove to be a misfortune to -me." - -She had listened to me with perfect tranquillity and in absolute -silence. When I ceased speaking, she did not change her attitude in any -way. But, watching her closely, I fancied that I detected an expression -of profound perplexity on her face. Thereupon I said to myself that I -had made no mistake, that she was weak and vain like all the rest of her -sex; that the only difference was that she was honest enough to -recognize the fact as soon as it was pointed out to her, and that she -would probably be honest enough to admit it. So I allowed her to retain -my esteem, but I felt that my enthusiasm vanished in an instant. I was -congratulating myself on my perspicacity and my firmness, when the -signora rose abruptly and walked away without a word. I was not prepared -for that stroke, and I was painfully surprised. - -"What! without a single word?" I cried. "You leave me, perhaps forever, -without a single word of regret or consolation?" - -"Farewell!" she said, turning toward me. "Regret I cannot feel; and I am -the one who need consolation. You have failed to understand me, you do -not love me." - -"I do not love you?" - -"But who will understand me," she added, stopping, "if you do not? Who -will love me, if you do not?" - -She shook her head sadly, then folded her arms across her breast and -fixed her eyes on the ground. She was at once so lovely and so -despairing that I had a frantic longing to throw myself at her feet, and -only a vague fear of angering her prevented me from doing it on the -instant. I stood still, saying not a word, with my eyes fastened upon -her, waiting anxiously to see what she would say or do. After a few -seconds she walked slowly toward me, and, leaning against the pedestal -of the statue, said with a meditative air: - -"So you thought me cowardly and vain; you thought me capable of giving -my love to a man and accepting his, without giving him at the same time -my whole life. You thought that I would stay with you so long as the -wind held fair, and that I would go away as soon as it became adverse. -How can you have thought so? For you are a steadfast, loyal man, and I -am sure that you would not start upon any serious course of action until -you had determined to go on with it to the end. Why, then, do you insist -that I cannot do what you do, and why have you not the same good opinion -of me that I have of you? Either you must have great contempt for women, -or you have allowed yourself to be sadly misled by my levity. I am often -foolish; I know that; but perhaps that may be to some extent the fault -of my age, and it does not prevent my being steadfast and loyal. On the -day that I realized that I loved you, Lelio, I determined to marry you. -That surprises you. You remember not only the thoughts that I must have -had in my position, but also my past words and acts. You think of all -the patricians I have refused to marry because they were not noble -enough. Alas! my dear friend, I am the slave of my public, just as you -sometimes complain of being of yours, and I am obliged to play my rôle -before it until I find an opportunity to escape from the stage. But I -have kept my heart free under my mask, and, since I have been able to -reason, I have determined that I would not marry except in accordance -with the dictates of my heart. But I had to have some excuse for -dismissing all those insipid and impertinent patricians to whom you -refer. I found it in the prejudices common to my suitors and my family, -and, wounding the pride of the former and flattering the pride of the -latter at the same time, I took advantage of the antiquity of my blood -to refuse the hand of men who, noble as they were, were still, I said, -not noble enough for me. In this way I succeeded in getting rid of all -my troublesome suitors without displeasing my family; for although they -called my refusals childish whims, and offered my rejected followers -apologies for my exaggerated pride of birth, they were none the less -enchanted with it in the depths of their hearts. For some little time I -enjoyed greater freedom by virtue of this conduct. But at last my -stepfather, Prince Grimani, told me that it was time to make up my mind, -and presented his nephew, Count Ettore, as the husband he had in mind -for me. This new pretender was as unattractive to me as his -predecessor--even more so perhaps; for his excessive imbecility soon led -me to despise him altogether. The prince, seeing this, and thinking that -my mother, who is a dear soul and loves me with all her heart, might aid -and abet me in my resistance to his will, determined to part me from her -in order to force me more easily to obey him. He sent me here to live -with no one but his sister and nephew. He hopes that, being compelled to -choose between ennui and my cousin Ettore, I shall end by choosing the -latter; but he is sadly mistaken. Count Ettore is unworthy of me in -every respect, and I should rather die than marry him. I have never said -so as yet, because I loved nobody, and, taking one scourge with another, -I had no more objection to that one than to others. But now I love you, -Lelio; I will tell Ettore that I will not have him; we will go away -together--to my mother; we will tell her that we love each other, and -that we wish to be married. She will give her consent, and you will -marry me. Do you agree?" - -I had listened to the signora, from her very first word, with profound -amazement, which did not cease when she had finished. Such nobleness of -heart, such fearlessness of thought, such masculine audacity blended -with such delicacy of feeling--all these united in so young a girl, -brought up amid the most arrogant of the old aristocrats--aroused the -warmest admiration in my own mind, and my surprise gave place to -enthusiasm. I was on the point of giving way to my transports and of -throwing myself at her feet to tell her that I was happy and proud to be -loved by a woman like her, that I was burning with the most ardent -passion for her, and that I was ready to do whatever she choose. But -reflection checked me in time, and I thought of all the drawbacks, all -the dangers of the step she proposed to risk. It was very probable that -she would be refused and severely rebuked, and then what would be her -plight, after running away from her aunt's house and openly taking a -journey of eight leagues with me? And so, instead of yielding to the -tumultuous impulses of my heart, I forced myself to be calm, and, after -a few seconds of silence, I tranquilly inquired: - -"But your family?" - -"There is but one person in the world whose authority over me I -acknowledge, and whose anger I fear to incur: that is my mother; and, as -I have told you, my mother is as kind as an angel, and loves me beyond -everything. Her heart will consent." - -"O dear child!" I cried, taking her hands and pressing them against my -heart; "God knows that what you propose to do is the goal of all my -desires! I am fighting against myself when I try to hold you back. Every -objection that I urge means the loss of one more hope of happiness for -myself, and my heart suffers cruelly from all the doubts suggested by my -reason. But to my mind, you, my beloved angel, and your future, your -reputation, your happiness, are to be considered first of all. I should -much rather renounce all hope than have you suffer because of me. So do -not be alarmed at all my scruples; do not see in them an indication of -calmness or indifference, but the proof of an unbounded affection. You -say that you know your mother will consent because you know that she is -kind. But you are very young, my child; with all your strength of mind, -you do not know what abnormal alliances are often found between the most -contrary sentiments. I believe all that you tell me of your mother, but -can you be sure that her pride will not resist her love for you? It may -be that she will think that she is performing a sacred duty by -preventing your union with an actor." - -"You may be half right," she replied. "Not that I am afraid of my -mother's pride. Although she has married two princes, she belongs to the -middle class by birth, and has never forgotten her own origin so far -that she would consider it a crime for me to love a plebeian. But Prince -Grimani's influence, a certain weakness which makes her always coincide -with the opinions of those about her, and perhaps, to represent things -in the worst possible light, the longing to obtain forgiveness for her -own humble birth in the social circle in which she now lives, would -prevent her from giving a ready consent to our marriage. So that there -is but one thing to do; that is to be married first and then tell her of -it. When our union is sanctified by the Church, my mother will never -have the heart to turn against me. It may be that she will suffer a -little, less on account of my disobedience, although her new family will -hold her entirely responsible for it, than on account of what she will -consider a lack of confidence on my part; but she will very soon be -appeased, you may be sure, and, from love for me, will open her arms to -you as to a son." - -"Thanks for your generous offers, my dear signora; but I have my honor -to preserve, no less than the proudest patrician. If I should marry you -without your parent's consent, after abducting you, people would not -fail to accuse me of the basest and most dastardly projects. And your -mother! suppose that after we were married she should refuse to forgive -us, all her indignation would fall upon me." - -"I understand then that, before marrying, you desire to have my mother's -consent at least?" - -"Yes, signora." - -"And if you were sure of obtaining it, you would hesitate no longer?" - -"Alas! why tempt me? What answer can I make, being sure of the -contrary?" - -"Then----" - -She paused abruptly, in evident uncertainty, and dropped her head on her -breast. When she raised it, she was slightly pale and tears were -glistening in her eyes. I was about to ask her the cause of them, but -she did not give me time. - -"Lila," she said in an imperative tone, "go!" - -The girl obeyed regretfully, and stopped far enough away to be out of -hearing, but not so far that she could not see us. Her mistress waited -until she had gone, before breaking the silence. Then she took my hand -with a most serious air, and began: - -"I am going to tell you something which I have never told before to a -living soul, and which I had fully determined never to tell. It relates -to my mother, the object of all my veneration and all my love. Judge -what it must cost me to stir a memory which might tarnish her purity and -her fair fame in the sight of other eyes than mine. But I know that you -are kind-hearted, and that I can speak to you as I would speak to God, -without any fear that you will imagine evil." - -She paused a moment to collect her ideas, then continued: - -"I remember that I was very proud of my noble blood in my childhood. It -was, I fancy, the obsequious fawning of our servants that planted that -sentiment in my mind so early in life, and led me to despise everybody -who was not noble like myself. Among my mother's servants there was one -who did not resemble the others, and who had been able to retain, in his -humble station, the dignity that befits a man. So that he seemed to me -an insolent wretch, and my feeling for him was little short of hatred. -Still I was afraid of him, especially after a certain day when I saw him -watching me with a very grave expression, as I was running my loveliest -dolls through the heart with a long black pin. - -"One night, I was awakened in my mother's bedroom, where my little bed -always stood, by the sound of a man's voice. That voice was speaking to -my mother with a gravity that was almost harsh, and she replied in a -grief-stricken, timid, almost imploring tone. In my astonishment I -thought at first that it was mamma's confessor; and as he seemed to be -scolding her according to his custom, I listened with all my ears, -without making a sound or letting them suspect that I wasn't asleep. -They had no suspicion of me. They talked without restraint. But such an -extraordinary conversation! My mother said: 'If you loved me, you would -marry me,' and the man refused to marry her! Then mamma wept and so did -the man; and I heard--ah! Lelio, I must be very fond of you to tell you -this--I heard the sound of kisses. It seemed to me as if I knew the -man's voice; but I could not believe the testimony of my ears. I longed -to look; but I didn't dare to move, because I felt that I was doing a -shameful thing in listening, and as I had even then some elevated -sentiments, I tried not to hear. But I heard in spite of my efforts. At -last the man said to my mother: '_Addio_, I leave you forever; do not -refuse me a lock of your lovely hair.'--And my mother replied: 'Cut it -yourself.' - -"The care which my mother took of my curls had accustomed me to look -upon a woman's hair as something very valuable; and when I heard her -give him part of hers, I had a thrill of jealousy and grief, as if she -had parted with property which she ought not to sacrifice to anybody but -myself. I began to weep silently; but, as I had heard steps approaching -my bed, I hastily wiped my eyes and pretended to be asleep. Then some -one put aside my curtains, and I saw a man all dressed in red, whom I -did not recognize at first because I had never seen him in that costume. -I was afraid of him; but he spoke to me, and I recognized him at once; -it was--Lelio, you will forget this story, won't you?" - -"It was--signora?" I cried, convulsively pressing her hand. - -"It was Nello, our gondolier--Why, Lelio, what's the matter with you? -You are shivering, your hand trembles. O heaven! you blame my mother!" - -"No, signora, no!" I replied in an inaudible voice; "I am listening -attentively to you. This took place at Venice, did it?" - -"Did I tell you so?" - -"I think you did; and it was in the Aldini palace, of course?" - -"Of course, for I told you it was in my mother's bedroom. But why this -agitation, Lelio?" - -"O my God! my God! and your name is Alezia Aldini!" - -"Well, what are you thinking about?" said she, testily. "One would say -that you had just learned my name for the first time." - -"Pardon me, signora, your family name--I always heard you called -Grimani, at Naples." - -"By people who were but slightly acquainted with us, doubtless. I am the -last of the Aldinis, one of the most ancient families of the Republic, -proud beyond words, and now ruined. But my mother is rich, and Prince -Grimani, who considers my birth and fortune worthy his nephew, sometimes -treats me sternly, sometimes wheedles me to prevail on me to marry him. -When he has a kind day he calls me his dear daughter, and when strangers -ask him if I am really his daughter, he answers, alluding to his -favorite project: 'To be sure, for she will be Countess Grimani.' That -is why I was always called by a name that is not mine at Naples, where I -passed a month, and where I knew almost nobody, and why I am called by -the same name in this region, where I have been living six weeks, and -where I neither see nor know anybody." - -"Signora," said I, making a mighty effort to break the painful silence -into which I had relapsed, "will you please explain to me what relation -this story can possibly bear to our love, and how, by the aid of the -secret you possess, you can extort from your mother a consent which she -would be otherwise disinclined to grant?" - -"What do you say, Lelio? Do you believe me capable of such detestable -scheming? If you would listen to me instead of passing your hands over -your forehead with that bewildered air,--my friend, my dear Lelio, what -new sorrow, what fresh scruple has assailed you in the last few -seconds?" - -"Dear signora, I beg you to go on." - -"Very well! Understand that I have never forgotten that incident: that -it has caused all the sorrows and all the joys of my life. I realized -that I must never question my mother on the subject nor mention it to -anyone. You are the first person to whom I have ever told it, not -excepting my dear nurse Salomé, or my foster sister Lila, to whom I -tell everything. My pride suffered from my mother's error, which seemed -to rebound upon me. However, I adored her just the same. Perhaps, -indeed, I loved her all the more, the more I felt that she was weak and -exposed to the secret maledictions of my relatives on my father's side. -But my hatred for the common people increased in the same proportion as -my love for her. - -"My sentiments remained unchanged until I was fourteen years old, and my -mother had apparently ceased to pay any heed to them. In the bottom of -her heart she was pained by my contempt for the lower classes, and one -day she made up her mind to reproach me timidly on that subject. I made -no reply, which must have surprised her, for I was in the habit of -arguing obstinately with everybody and on every subject. But I felt that -there was a mountain between my mother and myself, and that we could not -argue impartially on either side. Seeing that I listened to her -reproaches with extraordinary resignation, she took me on her knees, -and, fondling me with unutterable affection, talked to me about my -father in the most unexceptionable terms; but she told me many things -that I did not know. I had always retained a sort of enthusiastic -respect, entirely without foundation, for that father of mine, whom I -had hardly known. When I learned that he had married my poor mother -solely for her fortune, and that, after marrying her, he had looked down -on her because of her obscure birth and inferior education, there was a -great reaction in my heart, and I soon hated him as intensely as I had -loved him. My mother said many other things which seemed very strange to -me and impressed me deeply, concerning the misfortune of marrying purely -for convenience; and I fancied that I could see that she was not much -happier with her new husband than she had been with him of whom she was -speaking to me. - -"This conversation made a profound impression on me, and I began to -reflect upon the necessity of making marriage a matter of business, and -upon the humiliation of being courted because of a name or a dowry. I -resolved not to marry, and some time afterward, as I was talking with my -mother again, I made known my determination to her, thinking that she -would approve of it. She smiled and said that the time was not far away -when my heart would feel the need of a different love from hers. I -assured her of the contrary; but by slow degrees I came to realize that -I had spoken rashly; for I was assailed by the most intolerable ennui -when we laid aside our pleasant and secluded life at Venice, to travel -about and mingle in the brilliant society of other cities. Then, as I -was very tall and very far advanced for my years, it seemed as if I had -hardly ceased to be a child before they were already talking to me about -choosing a husband and about an establishment; and every day I overheard -discussions as to the merits and drawbacks of some new suitor. I had not -as yet felt the repugnance and terror which men without heart or mind -inspire in well-born women. I was hard to suit. Having lived always with -such a dear mother and been idolized by her, what a paragon of a man I -must have met in order not to regret most bitterly her gentle yoke and -her loving protection! My pride, already so irritable in itself, became -more and more sensitive every day at the appearance of the vain, -stilted, empty-headed creatures who presumed to pay court to me. I clung -to the virtues of noble birth, because I had imagined up to that time -that illustrious families were superior to others in courage, merit, -courtesy and liberality. I had not seen the nobility except in the -portrait gallery of the Aldini Palace. There my ancestors appeared -before me in all their glory, with all their great feats of arms or -pious deeds recorded on oaken bas-reliefs. This one had ransomed three -hundred slaves from barbarian pirates and bestowed true religion and -freedom upon them; that one had sacrificed all his property in war for -the salvation of his country; a third had shed all his blood for her on -some glorious field. So that my admiration for them was justifiable, and -I felt that the blood in my veins was no less warm and generous than -theirs. But how shockingly the descendants of other patricians seemed to -me to have degenerated! They retained none of the qualities of their -race except insufferable incompetency and sickening presumption. I asked -myself what had become of the nobility; I found it only on armorial -bearings and on the doorways of palaces. I determined to become a nun, -and I urged my mother so persistently to allow me to enter a convent, -that she consented. She wept bitterly when she left me there. Prince -Grimani approved of my whim; for since he had unearthed, in some corner -of Lombardy, a sort of nephew who might become rich at my expense, and -bear magnificently, thanks to my dowry, the imperishable name of -Grimani, his only thought was to make me obedient to his wishes, and he -flattered himself that religion would make my character more pliable. -What fervent piety, what a thirst for martyrdom one must have in order -to accept Hector! They took me away from the convent three months ago; -the fact is that I was dying with ennui there, and the rigid discipline -to which I had to submit was beyond my strength. And then I was so happy -to return to my mother and she to have me with her! But six weeks of -convent life had wrought a great change in my ideas. I had come to -understand Jesus, to whom I had always prayed with my lips alone. In my -hours of solitude, in church, in the earnest outpouring of my heart in -prayer, I had learned that the son of Mary was the friend of the -hard-working poor, and that he had justly scorned the grandeurs of this -world. And how shall I tell you? at the same time that I opened my heart -to new sympathies, the thing that in my childhood I used mentally to -call my mother's shame presented itself to me under very different -colors, and I thought of it only with deep emotion. What took place -within me? I cannot say; but I said to myself: 'If I should do as mamma -did, if I should fall in love with a man of a different station in life -from my own, the whole world would throw stones at me, all except -mamma.' She would take me in her arms, and hiding my blushes in her -bosom she would say: 'Obey your heart, so that you may be happier than I -was after breaking mine.'--You are touched, Lelio! O heaven! it was a -tear that just fell on my hand. You are beaten, my dear! You see that I -am neither mad, nor wicked; now you will say _yes_, and you will come -and take me to-morrow. Swear it!" - -I tried to speak, but I could not find a word; I was shuddering from -head to foot. I felt as if I were about to faint. With her eyes fixed -upon me she anxiously awaited my reply. For my own part, I was -completely crushed. At the very first words of her story, I had been -struck by its strange resemblance to my own; but when she came to those -incidents which it was impossible for me not to recognize, I was -completely bewildered and dazzled, as if the lightning had struck close -beside me. A thousand conflicting and sinister thoughts took possession -of my brain. I saw images of crime and despair fluttering about before -me like ghosts. Deeply moved by the memory of what had been, appalled at -the thought of what might be, I imagined myself the mother's lover and -the daughter's husband at the same time. Alezia, that child whom I had -seen in her cradle, stood before me, talking in the same breath of her -love and her mother's. - -A world of recollections crowded into my mind, and little Alezia -appeared there as the object, even then, of a timid and unjoyful -affection. I recalled her pride, her hatred of me, and the words she had -said to me one day when she saw her father's ring on my finger. "Who can -say," I thought, "that she has renounced her prejudices forever? It may -be that if she should learn at this moment that I am Nello, her former -servant, she would blush for loving me." - -"Signora," I said to her, "you used, you say, to be fond of piercing the -hearts of your dolls with a long pin. Why did you do that?" - -"What do you care? why does that detail impress you particularly?" - -"Because my heart aches, and your pins naturally came to my mind." - -"I will tell you why it was, to show you that it was not a mere -barbarous whim," she replied. "I used to hear it said, when a man did a -cowardly thing, 'that's what it is to have no blood in the heart;' and I -took that metaphorical expression literally. So when I scolded my dolls, -I would say to them: 'you are cowards, and I am going to look and see if -you have any blood in your hearts.'" - -"You despise cowards bitterly, don't you, signora?" I asked, wondering -what her opinion of me would be some day if I should give way at that -moment to her romantic passion. Once more I fell into a melancholy -reverie. - -"What is the matter, in heaven's name?" said Alezia. - -Her voice recalled me to myself. I looked at her with streaming eyes. -She was weeping too, but on account of my hesitation. I understood it at -once, and I said, taking her hands with a paternal gesture: - -"O my child! do not accuse me! Do not doubt my poor heart! If you only -knew how I am suffering!" - -And I walked rapidly away, as if by leaving her I could escape my -unhappiness. On reaching home I became calmer. I went over in my mind -the whole extraordinary succession of events; I worked out all their -details, and thus banished from my own mind the flavor of mystery which -had paralyzed me at first with superstitious terror. It was all strange, -but natural, even to the Christian name, that name Alezia, which I had -always longed to know and had never dared to ask. - -I do not know whether another man in my place could have continued to -love the young Signora Aldini. Strictly speaking, I might have done it -without criminality; for you will remember that I had not ceased to be a -chaste and obedient lover of her mother. But my conscience rebelled at -the thought of that incest of the mind. I loved La Grimani with her -unknown baptismal name, I loved her with all my heart and all my senses; -but in truth I did not love in that way little Alezia, Signorina Aldini, -Bianca's daughter, for it seemed to me that I was her father. The memory -of Bianca's charms and fascinating qualities had remained pure and -undimmed throughout my life; it had followed me everywhere like a -providence. It had made me generous to women and brave against myself. -Although I had since fallen in with many false and selfish beauties, I -always had the certainty that there are those who are sincere and -generous. Bianca had made no sacrifice to me, because I had refused to -accept any; but if I had accepted it, if I had yielded to her -enthusiasm, she would have sacrificed everything to me, friends, family, -fortune, honor, religion, and perhaps her daughter too! What a sacred -debt I owed to her! Had I paid it in full by my refusal, by my -departure? No; for she was a woman, that is to say, weak and submissive, -exposed to the implacable decrees and the bitter insults of irony. And -she would have braved it all, she who was so timid, so gentle, so like a -child in a thousand ways. She would have done a sublime thing; and I, -had I accepted, should have done a dastardly thing. So that I had done -nothing more than fulfil a duty to myself, whereas she had exposed -herself to the risk of martyrdom for my sake. Poor Bianca, my first, -perhaps my only love! how lovely she had always remained in my memory! -"Why, in heaven's name," I said to myself, "am I afraid that she has -grown old and withered? Ought I not to be indifferent to that? Should I -still love her? no, probably not; but, whether ugly or lovely, could I -see her to-day without danger?" And at that thought my heart beat so -violently that I realized how impossible it was for me to be her -daughter's husband or lover. - -And then too, to take advantage of the past--if it were only by a silent -assent to Alezia's wishes,--in order to obtain the hand of Bianca's -daughter, would have been a dishonorable act. Weak as I knew Bianca to -be, I knew that she would consider herself bound to give us her consent; -but I knew also that her old husband, her family, and, above all, her -confessor, would overwhelm her with their reproaches. She had been able -to make up her mind to marry a second time, a marriage of convenience. -Therefore, she was at heart a woman of the world, a slave of social -prejudices, and her love for me was simply a sublime episode, the memory -of which was to her a cause of shame and despair, whereas it was my -glory and my joy. "No, poor Bianca!" I thought, "no, I have not paid my -debt to you. You must have suffered terribly, perhaps trembled with -apprehension, at the idea that a servant might be peddling the secret of -your weakness from house to house. It is time that you should sleep in -peace, that you should cease to blush for the only happy days of your -youth, and that you should be able to say, poor woman, on learning of -Nello's everlasting silence, everlasting devotion, everlasting love, -that there was a time in your fettered, disappointed life, when you knew -love and inspired it." - -I paced my room excitedly; day was beginning to break. In the lives of -men who sleep but little, that is the decisive hour which puts an end to -the hesitations conceived and nourished in the darkness, and which -changes plans into resolutions. I felt a thrill of enthusiastic joy and -legitimate pride at the thought that Lelio the actor had not fallen -below Nello the gondolier. Sometimes, in my romantic democratic ideas, I -had flushed with shame because I had left the thatched roof where I -might have perpetuated a hardy, laborious, and frugal race; I had -reproached myself, as for a crime, for having disdained the humble trade -of my fathers to seek the bitter joys of luxurious living, the vain -incense of glory, the false advantages and trivial labors of art. But by -performing, in the tinsel of the actor, the same acts of unselfishness -and true pride that I had performed in the rough jacket of the -gondolier, I ennobled my life twice over, and raised myself above all -false social grandeurs. My conscience, my dignity, seemed to me the -conscience and dignity of the common people; by debasing myself I should -have debased the common people. "_Carbonari_! _carbonari_!" I exclaimed, -"I will be worthy to be one of you." The cult of deliverance is a new -cult; liberalism is a religion which should ennoble its followers, and, -like Christianity in its early days, make the slave a free man, the free -man a saint or a martyr. - -I wrote the following letter to Princess Grimani: - - -"SIGNORA: - -"The signorina has been exposed to great danger. Why did you, a loving -and fearless mother, consent to send her away from you? Is she not at an -age when any accident may decide a woman's future--a glance or a breath? -Is not this the time when you should watch over her every instant, night -and day alike, fathom her troubles, however slight, and count the -pulsations of her heart? For you, signora, who are so gentle and so -condescending in small things, but in great crises can always find in -your heart so much vigor and resolution, the moment has come when you -should display the courage of the lioness, who will not allow her little -ones to be taken from her. Come, signora, come; take your daughter back, -and do not let her quit you again. Why do you leave her in strange -hands, subjected to injudicious guidance, which irritates her and would -drive her into serious errors, if she were not your daughter--if it were -possible for the seeds of virtue and of dignity planted in her breast by -you to become the plaything of the first breeze that blows! Open your -eyes; see how your child's legitimate and sacred inclinations are being -thwarted, until you are in danger of seeing her resist wise counsels, -and contract a habit of independence which it will be impossible to -overcome. Do not permit a husband whom she detests to be forced upon -her, and look to it that her aversion for him does not spur her on to -make a rash and even more deplorable choice. Assure her liberty. Let her -only chains be her anxiety concerning your enlightened love, lest, -distrusting your energy in her behalf, she seek dangerous succor in her -imagination. In heaven's name, come! - -"And if you wish to know, signora, by what right I address this appeal -to you, I will tell you that I have seen your daughter without knowing -her name; that I have been on the verge of falling in love with her; -that I have followed her, watched her, sought her acquaintance; and that -she is not so well guarded that I could not have spoken to her and -exerted--in vain, I doubt not--all the wiles by which an ordinary woman -is seduced. Thank God! your daughter has not even been exposed to my -rash advances. I learned in time that she was the daughter of the woman -whom I venerate and respect above all the world, and from that moment -her place of abode became a sacred spot to me. If I do not leave the -neighborhood instantly, it is that I may be ready to reply to your most -searching questions, if, distrusting my honor, you bid me appear before -you and render an account of my conduct. - -"Accept, signora, the humble respects of your devoted slave, - - "NELLO." - - -I sealed this letter, wondering how I could forward it to its address -with the greatest possible speed, and with no danger of its falling into -strange hands. I dared not carry it myself, fearing that Alezia, in her -irritation at learning of my departure, would do something foolish or -desperate. Moreover, it was quite true that I wished to be able to open -my heart completely to her mother when the time should come for me to -confide everything to her; for I foresaw that Alezia would conceal from -her no detail of our little romance, of which I had no right to tell the -whole story except by her order. I feared, too, that the girl's -enthusiasm would so prevail over her mother's weakness with the moving -description of her passion, that the mother would eventually give a -consent which I did not propose to accept. Both needed the help of my -calm and immovable determination, and it might well be that when they -were face to face I should stand in need of the strength they both would -lack. - -I had reached this point in my reflections when there came a knock at my -door, and a man entered and approached me respectfully. As he had taken -pains to take off his livery, I did not at first recognize him as the -servant who had looked at me so closely on the day of the church -episode; but as we now had plenty of time to scrutinize each other, we -both involuntarily uttered an exclamation of surprise. - -"It is really you!" he said. "I was not mistaken; you are really Nello?" - -"Mandola, my old friend!" I cried, and I opened my arms. He hesitated an -instant, then embraced me most heartily, weeping for joy. - -"I recognized you, but I wanted to make sure; and so, at the first -moment I have had at my disposal, here I am. How does it happen that you -are called Signor Lelio hereabouts, unless you are the famous singer who -is so much talked about at Naples, and whom I have never been to see? -for I always go to sleep at the theatre, you know, and as for music, I -have never been able to understand it. So the signora never makes me go -up to her box till the end of the play." - -"The signora! oh! tell me about the signora, my old comrade." - -"I was talking about Signora Alezia, for Signora Bianca never goes to -the theatre now. She has taken a Piedmontese confessor, and she has been -entirely wrapped up in religion since her second marriage. Poor, dear -signora, I am afraid that this husband hardly makes up to her for the -other. Ah! Nello, Nello, why didn't you----" - -"Hush, Mandola; not a word about that. There are some memories which -ought not to come to our lips any more than the dead should return to -life. Only tell me where your mistress is at this moment, and how I can -send her a letter secretly and without delay." - -"Is it something of importance to you?" - -"It is much more important to her." - -"In that case, give it to me; I will travel by post at full speed, and -deliver it to her at Bologna, where she is now. Didn't you know it?" - -"No, indeed. So much the better. You can be with her this evening, can't -you?" - -"Yes, by Bacchus! Poor mistress! how surprised she will be to hear from -you! for you see, Nello, you see, Signor"---- - -"Call me Nello when we are alone, and Lelio before other people, until -the old Chioggia affair is forgotten altogether." - -"Oh! I know. Poor Massatone! But that is beginning to die out." - -"What were you saying about Signora Bianca? That is what I am anxious to -know." - -"I was saying that she will turn very red and then very pale when I hand -her your letter and whisper: 'This is from Nello! The signora remembers -Nello, who used to sing so well!'--Then she will say to me in a serious -tone, for she is no longer bright and cheerful as she used to be, poor -signora: 'Very well, Mandola, go to the pantry.' And then she will call -me back and say in a sweet tone, for she is just as kind-hearted as -ever: 'Poor Mandola, you must be very tired!--Give him some of the best -wine, Salomé!'" - -"Salomé!" I cried; "is she married too?" - -"Oh! she'll never marry. She is just the same, no older nor younger; -never smiling, never shedding a tear, adoring the signora as always, and -forever resisting her; very fond of the signora and always scolding her; -kind-hearted at bottom, but not amiable. Has Signora Alezia recognized -you?" - -"No, indeed." - -"I can believe it; I had much difficulty in recognizing you myself. -People change so much! You used to be so small and so slender!" - -"Oh! not too slender, if I remember aright." - -"And I," continued Mandola with comical distress, "I was so active and -graceful and quick and merry! Ah! how fast one grows old!" - -I began to laugh when I saw how men delude themselves concerning their -youthful graces as they advance in years. Mandola was very much the same -Lombard giant that I remembered; he still walked sideways like a vessel -beating to windward, and the constant balancing of the gondola as he -rowed at the stern had caused him to contract the habit of standing on -one leg at a time. You would have said that he was always suspicious of -the level ground and was waiting for a wave to come to change his -position. I had much difficulty in shortening our interview; he took -great delight in it, and I derived a sort of sorrowful pleasure from -hearing of that home where my heart had been thrown open to poesy, art, -love and honor. I could not restrain a secret thrill of joy, overflowing -with emotion and gratitude, when the honest Lombard told me of Bianca's -long continued melancholy after my departure, her impaired health, her -secret tears, her languor, her distaste for life. Then she had recovered -her animation. A new love had touched her heart. A very charming man, of -decidedly ill-repute, a sort of aristocratic adventurer, had sought her -hand in marriage; she had been within an ace of believing in him. Being -warned in time, she had shuddered at the dangers to which her peace of -mind and dignity were exposed by her isolation; above all she had -shuddered for her daughter, and she had fallen back upon religion. - -"But her marriage to Prince Grimani?" I said inquiringly. - -"Oh! that was the confessor's work." - -"Well, there is such a thing as fatality, no one can escape it. Off with -you, Mandola; here is some money, and here is the letter. Don't lose an -instant, and don't return to the Grimani villa until you have spoken to -me; for I have some important suggestions to make to you." - -He left me. I threw myself on my bed and was just falling asleep when I -heard the rapid footsteps of a horse in the garden upon which my window -looked. I wondered whether it was Mandola returning because he had -forgotten a part of his instructions. I overcame my fatigue and went to -the window. But, instead of Mandola, I saw a woman in a riding habit, -with her head covered with a thick black crêpe mantle which fell over -her shoulders and concealed her whole figure as well as her face. She -was riding a superb horse, steaming with sweat; and, leaping to the -ground before her groom had found time to assist her, she talked in a -very low tone to old Cattina, who had hurried to meet her, impelled by -curiosity much more than by zeal. I trembled as I thought who it might -be, who it must be; and, cursing the imprudence of such a proceeding, I -hastily dressed. When I was ready, as Cattina did not come to notify me, -I rushed out into the hall, fearing that the reckless visitor might -remain on the stoop exposed to some inquisitive eye. But I found Cattina -at the foot of the steps, returning to her work after showing the -stranger into the house. - -"Where is that lady?" I inquired eagerly. - -"That lady!" repeated the old woman, "what lady, my _blessed_ Signor -Lelio?" - -"What trick are you trying to play on me, you old fool? Didn't I see a -lady dressed in black come in, and didn't she ask to speak to me?" - -"No, as I believe in baptism, Signor Lelio. The lady asked for Signora -Checchina, and didn't mention your name. She put this half-sequin in my -hand and bade me keep her presence a secret _from the other people in -the house_. That's just what she said." - -"Did you see the lady, Cattina?" - -"I saw her dress and her veil, and a great lock of black hair that had -got loose and fell on a beautiful hand, and two great eyes that shone -behind the lace like two lamps behind a curtain." - -"Where did you put her?" - -"In Signora Checchina's small salon, while the signora is dressing to -receive her." - -"Very well, Cattina; keep your mouth shut, since she bade you." - -I was uncertain whether it was Alezia who had come to confide in -Checchina. If so, it was my duty to prevent her, at any price, from -remaining in that house, where every instant of her stay might -contribute to the ruin of her reputation; but if it were not she, what -right had I to go and question a person who, doubtless, had some very -serious motive for concealing her actions in this way? I had been unable -from my window to judge of the height of that veiled woman, because our -respective positions were such that I could see only the top of her -head. I had scrutinized the groom as he led the horses to a clump of -trees which his mistress pointed out to him. I had never seen his face -before; but that was no reason why he might not belong to the Grimani -establishment, for I certainly had not seen all the servants. I disliked -extremely to question him and try to bribe him. I determined to go to -Checchina; I knew what a length of time she required to make the -simplest toilet. She could not have joined her visitor as yet, and I -could reach her bedroom without passing through the small salon. I knew -the secret passage which connected Nasi's apartments with his -mistress's, the villa of Cafaggiolo being a genuine _petite maison_, -built according to the French style of the 18th century. - -I found Checchina half-dressed, and making ready with queenly -indifference for this early morning audience. - -"What does this mean?" she cried, as I entered by way of her alcove. - -"Just a word, Checchina," I said in her ear. "Send away your maid." - -"Make haste," she said when we were alone, "for there is someone waiting -for me." - -"I know it, and that is what I came to speak to you about. Do you know -this woman who has requested an interview with you?" - -"How do I know? She refused to tell my maid her name, and at that I sent -word to her that I was not in the habit of receiving people whom I did -not know, at seven o'clock in the morning; but she wouldn't be refused, -and she begged Teresa so earnestly--indeed it is probable that she gave -her money in order to enlist her in her interest--that the girl came and -bothered me to death, and I backed down; but not without the greatest -reluctance to get up so early, for I read of the loves of Angélique and -Médor far into the night." - -"Listen, Checchina; I think that this woman is--the one you know about." - -"Oh! do you think so? In that case, go and join her. I understand why -she asked for me, and why you came here by the secret passage. I will be -close-mouthed, and delighted to go to sleep again, and you will be the -happiest of men." - -"No, my dear Francesca, you are mistaken. If I had arranged an -assignation under your auspices, be very sure that I would have asked -your permission. But I have not reached that stage, and my romance is -drawing to a conclusion--to the least ardent and most moral of -conclusions. But this young woman is ruined unless you come to her -assistance. Do not listen to any of the romantic projects which she has -come here to confide to you; send her away at once; make her return to -her people instantly. If by any chance she asks to speak to me in your -presence, say that I am absent and shall not return during the day." - -"What, Lelio! you are no more ardent than this, and she makes a fool of -herself for you! The deuce! That is what comes of being conceited--one -always succeeds. But suppose you are mistaken, _cugino_? Suppose this -beautiful adventuress turns out to be not your Dulcinea, but one of the -poor girls with whom every country swarms, who want to go on the stage -in order to escape from cruel parents? Look you, I have an inspiration. -Let us go into the small salon together. If we push the screen before -the door as we go in, you can creep in with me, keep out of sight, and -see and hear everything. If this woman is your mistress, it is important -that you should know at once just what is in the wind; and as I should -have to repeat to you word for word what she says to me, it will be a -much shorter way for you to hear it yourself." - -I hesitated, and yet I was sorely tempted to follow that bad advice. - -"But suppose it is some other woman," I objected; "suppose she has some -secret to tell you?" - -"Have you and I any secrets from each other?" said Checchina; "and have -you less regard for yourself than I have for you? Come, no absurd -scruples; come!" - -She called Teresa, said a few words in her ear, and, when the screen was -arranged, dismissed her and led me into the salon. I had not been in -hiding two minutes before I found a break in the screen through which I -could see the mysterious lady. She had not raised her veil, but I -recognized Alezia's graceful figure and beautiful hands. - -The poor child was trembling in every limb. I pitied her and blamed her; -for the apartment in which we were was not decorated in the most chaste -style, and the antique bronzes and marble statuettes which embellished -it, although selected with exquisite taste as works of art, were by no -means suited to attract the glances of an enamored girl or a modest -woman. And as I reflected that it was Alezia Aldini who had dared to -find her way into that heathen temple, I was, in spite of myself, more -hurt than grateful for her action, because I still loved her a little. - -Checchina, although she had dressed hurriedly, had omitted nothing to -accomplish the object so dear to women, of dazzling persons of their own -sex by the splendor of their costume. She had thrown over her shoulders -a cashmere _robe de chambre_, at that time a very rare object; she had -surrounded her dishevelled hair with a net of gold and purple, for the -antique was fashionable then; and over her bare legs, which were as -strong and as beautifully moulded as those of a statue of Diana, she had -drawn a sort of buskin of tiger's skin, which ingeniously supplied the -place of the commonplace slipper. She had covered her fingers with -diamonds and cameos, and held her brilliant fan like a stage sceptre, -while the stranger, to keep herself in countenance, played awkwardly -with her own, which was of simple black satin. She was visibly dismayed -by Checca's beauty,--beauty of a somewhat masculine type, but -incontestable. With her Turkish gown, her Median footwear, and her Greek -head-dress, she must have resembled the wives of the old satraps who -decked themselves out with the plunder of foreign nations. - -She saluted her guest with a patronizing air bordering on impertinence; -then, reclining carelessly on an ottoman, assumed the most Grecian -attitude that she could invent. All this pantomime produced its due -effect: the girl was utterly bewildered, and dared not break the -silence. - - -[Illustration: _ALEZIA VISITS CHECCHINA._ - -"_Well, signora or signorina," said Checca, slowly -unfolding her fan, "for I haven't the slightest idea -with whom I have the pleasure of speaking--I am -at your service._"] - - -"Well, signora or signorina," said Checca, slowly unfolding her fan, -"for I haven't the slightest idea with whom I have the pleasure of -speaking--I am at your service." - -Thereupon the stranger, in a clear and somewhat metallic voice, with a -very pronounced English accent, replied thus: - -"Pray pardon me, signora, for disturbing you so early in the morning, -and accept my thanks for your kindness in receiving me. My name is -_Barbara Tempest_, and I am the daughter of an English nobleman who has -been living in Florence for a short time. My parents are having me take -music lessons, and I have already acquired some talent; but I had a most -excellent teacher who has gone to Milan, and my parents want me now to -take lessons of that stupid Tosani, who will disgust me with the art -with his antiquated method and his absurd cadenzas. I have heard that -Signor Lelio--whom I heard several times at Naples--was coming to this -neighborhood, and that he had hired this house, the owner of which I -know, for the season. I have an irresistible desire to take lessons of -that famous singer, and I asked leave of my parents, who consented; but -they have spoken about it to several people, and have been told that -Signor Lelio is a man of a very proud and somewhat eccentric character, -that, in addition, he is associated with what they call _charbonnerie_, -I believe, that is to say he has taken an oath to exterminate all the -rich and all the nobles, and that he detests them all. He doesn't miss -an opportunity, so my father was told, to show his aversion to them, and -if he ever, by any chance, consents to do them a service, to sing at -their parties, or give lessons in their families, he doesn't do it until -he has made them implore him in the most humble terms. If they prove to -him, by very earnest appeals, how highly they esteem his talent and his -person, he yields and becomes amiable; but if they treat him as an -ordinary artist, he refuses sharply, and is not sparing of his mockery. -This, signora, is what my parents have heard, and it is what they fear; -for they are a little vain of their name and their social position. For -my own part, I have no prejudices, and I have such profound admiration -for talent, that there is no price that I would not pay to obtain from -Signor Lelio the favor of being his pupil. - -"I have very often said to myself that if I could only have an -opportunity to speak to him, he certainly would grant my request. But -not only am I not likely to have an opportunity to meet him, but it -would not be proper for a young woman to accost a young man. I was -thinking about it this morning as I was riding. In my country, you know, -signora, young ladies go out alone, and ride out attended by their -servants. So I ride early in the morning, to avoid the heat of the day, -which seems very terrible to us northern people. As I was passing this -pretty house, I asked a servant whom it belonged to. When I learned that -it was Count Nasi's, who is a friend of my family, I asked if Signor -Lelio had arrived, knowing that the count had let it to him. 'Not yet,' -was the reply; 'but his wife came on ahead to prepare the house for him; -she is a very kind and beautiful lady.' Thereupon, signora, it came into -my head to call upon you and interest you in my desire, so that you -might give me the benefit of your powerful influence with your husband, -and induce him to grant the request of my parents when they present it. -May I ask you also, signora, to be kind enough to keep my little secret -and to ask Signor Lelio to do the same? for my family would blame me -severely for taking this step, although it is, as you see, perfectly -innocent." - -She pronounced this harangue with such genuinely British volubility, -jerking out her words, cutting short the long syllables, and drawling -over the short ones, her Anglicisms were so natural and amusing, that I -no longer believed that prudish yet reckless young lady to be Alezia. -Checchina, for her part, thought of nothing but making merry over her -eccentric performance. I would gladly have retired, as I was hardly in a -mood to enjoy that amusement; but the slightest sound would have -betrayed my presence and struck terror to Miss Barbara's guileless -heart. - -"Really, miss," Checchina replied, concealing a strong desire to laugh -behind a phial of essence of rose, "your request is most embarrassing, -and I don't know how to answer it. I will admit that I have not the -influence over Signor Lelio which you are pleased to attribute to me." - -"Can it be that you are not his wife?" inquired the young Englishwoman -artlessly. - -"Oh! miss, to think of a young lady having such ideas!" exclaimed -Checchina assuming a prudish air that sat most awkwardly upon her. "Fie, -fie! Does custom permit young ladies in England to make such -suppositions?" - -Poor Barbara was altogether bewildered. - -"I do not know whether my question was insulting," she rejoined in a -trembling but resolute voice; "I certainly did not so intend it. You -could not live with Signor Lelio without committing a crime unless you -were his wife. You might, perhaps, be his sister--That is all I wanted -to say, signora." - -"And might I not be neither his wife, nor his sister, nor his mistress, -but be living in my own house? May I not be Countess Nasi?" - -"O signora," replied Barbara ingenuously, "I know that Signor Nasi is -not married." - -"He may be secretly, miss." - -"It must be very recently then; for he asked for my hand not more than a -fortnight ago." - -"Ah! it was you, was it, signorina?" cried Checchina with a tragic -gesture which caused her fan to fall. There was a moment's silence. Then -the young stranger, being determined to break it at any price, seemed to -make a great effort, left her chair and picked up the singer's fan. She -handed it to her with charming grace, and said in a caressing tone which -made her foreign accent even more appealing: - -"You will have the kindness to mention me to your brother, will you not, -signora?" - -"You mean my husband?" rejoined Checchina, accepting her fan with a -mocking air and eyeing the young Englishwoman with malevolent curiosity. -The visitor fell back in her chair as if she had received her death -blow; and Checchina, who detested society women and took a savage joy in -crushing them when she was brought into rivalry with them, added as she -surveyed herself absent-mindedly in the mirror over the ottoman: - -"Look you, my dear Miss Barbara. I wish you well; for you seem to me a -charming person. But you should have told me the truth: I fear that it -is not love of art which brings you here, but a sort of a fancy for -Lelio. He has unconsciously inspired many romantic passions during his -life, and I know as many as ten boarding-school misses who are wild over -him." - -"Never fear, signora," retorted the English girl, with an Italian accent -which gave me a shock, "I could never have the slightest feeling for a -married man; and when I entered this house I knew that you were Signor -Lelio's wife." - -Checchina was a little disconcerted by the firm and contemptuous tone of -this retort; but, being determined to force her to the last extremity, -she soon recovered herself, and said with a studied smile, and with -redoubled impertinence: - -"Dear Barbara, you set my mind at rest, and I believe that you are too -noble-minded to wish to rob me of Lelio's heart; but I cannot conceal -from you that I have one wretched failing. I am of a frantically jealous -disposition and everything arouses my suspicions. You are lovelier than -I, perhaps, and I am much afraid that it is so, judging from the pretty -foot which I see and the great eyes which I divine. You will be -indifferent to Lelio, since he belongs to me, for you are high-spirited -and generous: but Lelio may fall in love with you; you will not be the -first one who has turned his head. He is a fickle creature; his blood -kindles for every pretty woman he meets. So pray be kind enough, dear -Signora Barbara, to raise your veil, so that I may see what I have to -fear, and, to use the French phrase, whether I can safely expose Lelio -to the fire of your batteries." - -The English girl made a gesture of disgust, then seemed to hesitate; and -at last, drawing herself up to her full height, she replied, beginning -to detach her veil: - -"Look at me, signora, and remember my features, so that you may describe -them to Signor Lelio; and if, as he listens to your description, he -seems moved, do not by any means send him to me; for, if he should be -faithless to you, I declare that it would be a most unfortunate thing -for him, and that he would obtain nothing but contempt from me." - -As she was speaking, she uncovered her face. Her back was turned toward -me, and I tried in vain to see her features in the mirror. But what need -had I of the testimony of my eyes? was not that of my ears sufficient? -She had entirely forgotten her English accent and spoke the purest -Italian in that resonant, vibrating voice which had so often moved me to -the very depths of my being. - -"I beg your pardon, miss," said Checchina, in nowise discomposed, "you -are so lovely that all my fears are revived. I cannot believe that Lelio -has not seen you already, and that you and he are not acting in concert -to deceive me." - -"If he asks you my name," exclaimed Alezia, violently pulling out one of -the long pins of burnished steel that held the folds of her veil in -place, "give him this from me, and tell him that my crest bears a pin -with this motto: 'For the heart in which there is no blood!'" - -At that moment, unable to rest under the burden of such contempt, I -suddenly emerged from my hiding-place and rushed toward Alezia with a -self-assured air. - -"No, signora," I said, "do not believe my friend Francesca's jests. This -is all a comedy which she has enjoyed playing, taking you for what you -chose to appear, and unaware of the importance of her falsehoods; it is -a comedy which I have allowed her to play thus far because I hardly -recognized you, you imitated so cleverly the accent and manners of an -Englishwoman." - -Alezia seemed neither surprised nor moved by my appearance. She -maintained the calmness and dignity in which women of rank surpass all -other women when they are in the right. One who had seen her impassive -features, lighted up little by little by a charming smile of irony, -might well have believed that her heart had never known passion, and was -incapable of knowing it. - -"So you think that I have played my part well, signor?" she retorted; -"that will prove to you that I had some vocation for the profession -which you ennoble by your talents and your virtues. I thank you with all -my heart for having arranged an opportunity for me to act before you, -and I thank the signora, who has been kind enough to give me my cue. But -I am already disgusted with this sublime art. One must carry into it a -fund of experience which it would cost me too much to acquire, and a -strength of mind of which you alone in all the world are capable." - -"No, signora, you are in error," I replied firmly. "I have no experience -of evil, and I have no strength except to repel degrading suspicions. I -am neither the husband nor the lover of Francesca. She is my friend, my -adopted sister, the discreet and devoted confidante of all my feelings, -and yet she does not know who you are, although she is as devoted to you -as to myself." - -"I declare, signora," said Francesca, seating herself in a more becoming -attitude, "that I have very little idea what is going on here, and why -Lelio has allowed you to form such suspicions, when it was so easy for -him to destroy them. What he has just said to you is the truth, and you -do not imagine, I trust, that I would lend myself to an attempt to -deceive you, if I were anything more than a placid and entirely -unselfish friend to him." - -Alezia began to tremble in every limb, as if she had an attack of fever, -and she resumed her seat, pale and thoughtful. She was still in doubt. - -"You were very cruel to her, cousin," I whispered to Checchina. "You -took delight in inflicting pain on a pure heart, in order to avenge your -foolish self-esteem. Ought you not to thank your rival, since she -refused Nasi?" - -Kind-hearted Checca went to her, took her hands familiarly, and sat on a -hassock at her feet. - -"My sweet angel," she said, "do not be suspicious of us; you know -nothing of the honorable and attractive freedom of Bohemian life. In -your social circle we are slandered, and our best actions are called -crimes. As you have allowed Lelio to love you, it must be that you do -not share those unjust prejudices. Be sure, therefore, that, unless I am -the very vilest of creatures, I cannot conspire with Lelio to deceive -you. I can hardly understand what pleasure or profit I could derive from -it. So let your mind be at rest, my pretty signora. Forgive me for -extorting your secret from you by my foolish jesting. You must agree -that if we had allowed the signora marchesina to make sport of us -actors, it would not have been in the natural order of things. However, -it is all very fortunate, and it was an excellent and brave idea of -yours. You might have retained your suspicions and suffered a long time, -while now you are completely reassured, are you not, _marchesina mia_? -And you believe that my heart is too big to betray you in such fashion, -don't you? Now, my dear love, you must go back to your parents, and -Lelio will go and see you whenever you choose. Never fear, I will send -him to you myself, and I will see that he doesn't give you any more -cause for grief. Ah! _poverina_, men are in the world to drive women to -despair, and the best of them is not equal to the worst of us. You are a -poor child, who do not know as yet what suffering is. It will come only -too soon if you abandon your heart to the torments of love, _oimè_!" - -Francesca said many other things full of kindliness and good sense. -While Alezia was somewhat offended by her artless familiarity, she was -touched by her kindness of heart and won over by her perfect frankness. -She did not respond to Checca's caresses, but great tears rolled slowly -down her pale cheeks. At last her heart fairly overflowed, and she threw -herself, sobbing bitterly, into her new friend's arms. - -"O Lelio!" she said, "will you forgive me for insulting you by such a -suspicion? Attribute it solely to my unhealthy state of mind and body -for the last few days. It was Lila who, thinking that she could cure me -in that way, and wishing to prevent me from doing what she calls a crazy -thing, confided to me last night that you were living here with a very -beautiful woman, who was not your sister, as she had believed at first, -but your wife or your mistress. You can imagine that I couldn't close my -eyes; I revolved in my brain the most tragic and most extravagant -projects. At last I concluded that Lila might be mistaken, and I -determined to learn the truth for myself. At daybreak, while the poor -girl, overcome by fatigue, lay sleeping on the floor in my bedroom, I -stole out on tiptoe. I called the most stupid and blindly submissive of -my aunt's servants, and ordered him to saddle my cousin Hector's horse, -which is very high-spirited, and has nearly thrown me a dozen times. But -what did I care for my life? I said to myself: 'Alas! everyone is not -killed who wants to be!' and I started for Cafaggiolo, without any idea -what I was going to do here. On the way, I invented the story I ventured -to tell the signora. Oh! I beg her to forgive me! I wanted to find out -if she loved you, Lelio; if you loved her, if she had any rights over -you, if you were deceiving me. Forgive me, both of you. You are so kind; -you will forgive me and love me too, won't you, signora?" - -"Dear _Madonetta_! I love you already with all my heart," replied -Checchina, throwing her long bare arms about her neck, and hugging her -until she nearly suffocated her. - -I was anxious to put an end to this scene and to send Alezia back to her -aunt. I begged her to expose herself to no further risk, and I rose to -order her horse; but she detained me, saying vehemently: - -"What are you thinking about, Lelio? Send the servant and horses back to -my aunt. Order a post-chaise, and let us go at once. Your friend will be -kind enough to go with us. We will go to my mother, and I will throw -myself at her feet and say: 'I am compromised, I am ruined in the eyes -of the world; I ran away from my aunt's in broad daylight, without -concealment. It is too late to repair the injury I have inflicted upon -myself voluntarily and deliberately. I love Lelio and he loves me; I -have given him my life. I have nobody left on earth but him and you. -Will you curse me?'" - -This determination threw me into the most horrible perplexity. I argued -with her to no purpose. She was annoyed by my scruples, accused me of -not loving her, and appealed to Francesca's judgment. Francesca -suggested going with Alezia to her mother, without me. I tried to induce -Alezia to return to her aunt, to write to her mother from there, and to -await her reply before deciding upon anything. I solemnly promised to -have no more conscientious scruples if the mother consented; but I was -not willing to compromise the daughter; that was a detestable deed which -I implored Alezia to spare me. Her reply was that, if she wrote, her -mother would show the letter to Prince Grimani, and he would have her -shut up in a convent. - -At the height of this discussion, Lila, whom Cattina strove in vain to -detain on the stairs, rushed impetuously into our midst, purple in the -face, breathless, almost fainting. It was several minutes before she -could speak. At last she told us in broken phrases, that she had -outstripped Signor Ettore Grimani, whose horse luckily enough was lame, -and could not jump the quickset hedges between the fields; but that he -was behind her, that he had inquired all the way along what road Alezia -had taken, and that he would arrive very soon. Through his means, the -whole Grimani establishment was informed of the signora's flight. The -aunt had tried to make inquiries quietly and to impose silence on -Hector's frantic outcries, but all to no purpose. He was making so much -noise about it that the whole province would be aware before night of -his humiliating position and of the signora's risky performance, unless -she herself set things to rights by going to meet him, closing his -mouth, and returning to Villa Grimani with him. I agreed with Lila. -Alezia could make her cousin do whatever she chose. Nothing was -irreparable as yet, if she would mount her horse and return to her aunt; -she could take a different road from that by which Hector was coming, -and we would send somebody to meet him and throw him off the scent and -prevent him from coming to Cafaggiolo. But it was all useless. Alezia's -resolution was immovable. - -"Let him come," she said, "let him enter the house, and if he dares to -come as far as this we will throw him out of the window." - -Checchina laughed like a madwoman at that idea, and upon hearing -Alezia's satirical description of her cousin, she undertook to get rid -of him unaided. All this boasting and insane merriment at such a crisis -grieved me beyond measure. - -Suddenly a post-chaise appeared at the end of the long avenue lined with -fig-trees leading from the main road to Nasi's villa. - -"It's Nasi!" cried Checchina. - -"Suppose it is Bianca!" I thought. - -"Oh!" cried Lila, "here comes the signora, your aunt in person, to fetch -you." - -"I will resist my aunt as stoutly as my cousin," replied Alezia; "for -they are treating me shamefully. They mean to publish my shame, to -overwhelm me with chagrin and humiliation, in order to conquer me. Hide -me, Lelio, or protect me." - -"Have no fear," I replied; "if that is the way they propose to act -toward you, no one shall come into this house. I will go and receive the -signora, your aunt, at the door, and as it is too late for you to go -out, I swear that no one shall come in." - -I ran hastily down stairs; I found Cattina listening at the door. I -threatened to kill her, if she said a word; then, reflecting that no -fear was sufficiently powerful to prevent her from yielding to the power -of gold, I changed my mind, retraced my steps, and, taking her by the -arm, pushed her into a sort of store-room which had only a small round -window which she could not reach; I locked the door on her in spite of -her anger, put the key in my pocket, and ran down to meet the -post-chaise. - -Of all the possibilities that we dreaded, the most embarrassing was -realized. Nasi alighted from the carriage and threw himself on my neck. -How could I prevent him from entering his own house, how conceal from -him what was going on? It was a simple matter to prevent his betraying -Alezia's _incognito_, by telling him that a woman had come to his house -to see me, and that I requested him as a favor not to try to see her. -But the day would not pass without his hearing of Alezia's flight and -the confusion into which the Grimani household had been thrown. A week -would suffice to make it known all over the country. I really did not -know what to do. Nasi, being entirely at a loss to understand my -perturbed air, began to be uneasy and to fear that Checchina, in wrath -or in desperation, had indulged in some insane freak. He rushed -upstairs; his hand was already on the knob of Checchina's door, when I -held his arm, saying with the utmost gravity that I begged him not to go -in. - -"What does this mean, Lelio?" he said in a trembling voice, and turning -pale; "Francesca is here and doesn't come to meet me; you receive me -with an icy manner, and you try to prevent me from entering my -mistress's apartment! And yet it was you who wrote me to return to her, -and you seemed desirous to reconcile us; what is happening between you -two?" - -I was about to answer when the door opened and Alezia appeared, covered -by her veil. When she saw Nasi she started, then stopped. - -"I understand now, I understand," said Nasi, with a smile; "a thousand -pardons, my dear Lelio! tell me to what room I shall go." - -"This way, signor!" said Alezia, in a firm voice, taking his arm and -leading him into the boudoir from which she had just came, and where -Francesca and Lila still were. I followed her. Checchina, when she saw -the count, assumed her most savage air, the same which she assumed in -the rôle of Arsace, when she sang the soprano part in Bianchi's -_Semiramis_. Lila stood at the door to forestall any more visits, and -Alezia, putting aside her veil, said to the stupefied count: - -"Signor count, you asked my hand in marriage a fortnight ago. The short -time during which I had the pleasure of seeing you at Naples was -sufficient to give me a more favorable idea of you than of any other of -my suitors. My mother wrote, imploring, almost commanding me to accept -your offer. Prince Grimani added, by way of postscript, that, if I -really felt any aversion for my cousin Hector, he would allow me to -return to my mother, on condition that I would instantly accept you for -my husband. According to my reply, they were either to come and take me -to Venice to meet you, or to leave me at my aunt's house with my cousin -for an indefinite period. Very good! despite my aversion for my cousin, -despite the constant teasing and pestering of my aunt, despite my ardent -longing to see my darling mother and my dear Venice once more, and -despite my very great esteem for you, signor count, I refused. You -probably thought that I preferred my cousin.--Look!" she said, -interrupting herself and glancing calmly toward the window, "there he -is, actually riding his horse into your garden. Stay, Signor Lelio!" she -added, grasping my arm as I rushed to the door to leave the room; "you -will surely agree that at this moment there shall be no other will here -than mine. Stand with Lila in front of that door until I have finished -speaking." - -I put Lila aside and kept the door in her place. Alezia continued: - -"I refused, signor count, because I could not loyally accept your -honorable proposal. I replied to the obliging letter which you enclosed -with my mother's." - -"Yes, signora," said the count, "you replied in a kindly tone by which I -was deeply touched; but with a frankness which left me no hope; and I -have come into your neighborhood not with the purpose of annoying you -further, but of being your devoted friend and humble servant, if you -ever deign to appeal to my sentiment of respect." - -"I know it, and I rely upon you," said Alezia, offering him her hand -with a nobly sympathetic air. "The time has come, sooner than you can -have anticipated, to put your generous sentiments to the proof. My -reason for refusing your hand was that I love Lelio; my reason for being -here is that I am determined never to marry any man but him." - -The count was so astounded by this avowal that for several minutes he -was unable to reply. God forbid that I should speak slightingly of -honest Nasi's friendship; but at that moment I saw plainly enough that -among the nobles there is no personal friendship, no amount of devotion, -or esteem, which can entirely eradicate the prejudices of the caste. My -eyes were fixed upon him in the closest scrutiny, and I could read this -thought clearly on his face: "I, Count Nasi, have actually loved and -offered marriage to a woman who is in love with an actor and means to -marry him!" - -But it was all over in an instant. Dear old Nasi at once resumed his -chivalrous manner.--"Whatever you have determined upon, signora," he -said, "whatever commands you have for me in pursuance of your -determination, I am ready." - -"Very good," replied Alezia; "I am in your house, signor count, and my -cousin is here, if not to demand my return, at all events to establish -my presence here. He will be offended by my refusal to go with him, and -will not fail to calumniate me, because he has no spirit, no courage, no -education. My aunt will make a pretence of rebuking her son's loss of -temper, and will tell the story of what she will delight to call my -shame to all the pious old women of her acquaintance, who will repeat it -to all Italy. I do not propose to try to stop the scandal either by -useless precautions or by cowardly denials. I have called down the storm -upon my head, let it burst in the sight of the whole world! I shall not -suffer on that account, if, as I hope, my mother's heart remains true to -me, and if, having a husband who is content with my sacrifices, I find -also a friend who has the courage to avow openly the brotherly affection -with which he honors me. As that friend, will you interfere to prevent -any unseemly, _impossible_ explanation between Lelio and my cousin? Will -you go and receive Hector, and inform him that I will not leave this -house except to go to my mother, and with the protection of your arm?" - -The count looked at Alezia with a grave and sad expression, which seemed -to say to her: "You are the only one here who can understand how strange -and reprehensible and ridiculous the part you are making me play will -appear to the world;" then he knelt gracefully on one knee and kissed -Alezia's hand, which he still held in his, saying: "Signora, I am your -true knight in life or in death." Then he came to me and embraced me -heartily, without a word. He forgot to speak to Checchina, who stood -leaning on the window-sill, with folded arms, viewing this scene with -philosophical attention. - -Nasi made ready to leave the room. I could not endure the thought that -he was about to constitute himself, at his own risk, the champion of the -woman whom I was supposed to have compromised. I insisted upon -accompanying him at all events, and taking half of the responsibility on -myself. To deter me he gave me divers excellent reasons taken from the -code of fashionable society. I did not understand them in the least; -indeed I was carried away at that moment by the wrath aroused in my -heart by Hector's insolence and his dastardly purpose. Alezia tried to -calm me by saying: "You have no rights as yet except such as I please to -bestow on you." I obtained permission to accompany Nasi, and thus make -my presence known to Hector Grimani, on condition that I should not say -a word without the count's permission. - -We found the cousin just dismounting, panting heavily and drenched with -perspiration. He cursed at the poor beast in the most vulgar way, and -struck him violently because, being unshod and having bruised his feet -on the road, he had not galloped fast enough to satisfy his master's -impatience. It seemed to me that this beginning and Hector's whole -manner showed that he did not know how to extricate himself from the -position in which he had recklessly placed himself. He must either show -himself a hero by force of love and frantic jealousy, or cut an absurd -figure by a display of cowardly insolence. His embarrassment was made -complete by the fact that he had enlisted two young friends of his who -were going out to hunt, and had insisted on accompanying him, not so -much to assist him, probably, as to amuse themselves at his expense. - -We walked up to him without saluting him, and Nasi looked him in the -eye, with a cold stare, without a word. He seemed not to see me, or not -to recognize me. - -"Ah! is it you, Nasi?" he said, hesitating whether he should raise his -hat or offer his hand; for he saw that Nasi was not disposed to offer -him any sort of greeting. - -"You have no cause for surprise, it seems to me, because you find me in -my own house," replied Nasi. - -"Pardon me, pardon me," replied Hector, pretending that his spur had -caught on a superb rose-bush by which they were standing, and which he -crushed with his whole might. "I did not at all expect to find you here; -I thought you were at Naples." - -"It makes little difference what you thought. You are here, and so am I. -What is the difficulty?" - -"Why, my dear fellow, I want you to help me find my cousin Alezia, who -has the assurance to go out alone on horseback, without my mother's -permission, and who is somewhere about here, so I am told." - -"What do you mean by _somewhere about here_? If you think that the young -lady you mention is in this neighborhood, stick to the street and look -for her." - -"But deuce take it, my dear fellow, she is here!" said Hector, compelled -by Nasi's tone and by the presence of his witnesses to pronounce himself -a little more clearly. "She is either in your house or in your garden, -for she was seen to ride into your avenue--and, God's blood! there's her -horse now!--my horse, I mean, for it was her good pleasure to take him -for her expedition, and leave her hack for me." And he tried, by a loud, -forced laugh, to enliven an interview which Nasi did not seem disposed -to treat so lightly. - -"Signor," he replied, "I have not the honor to be sufficiently well -acquainted with you for you to call me _my dear fellow_. I must ask you, -therefore, to address me as I address you. Furthermore, I will call your -attention to the fact that my house is not a tavern nor my garden a -public promenade, that passers-by should take the liberty to explore -it." - -"Faith, signor, I am very sorry if you are displeased," said Hector. "I -thought that I knew you well enough to venture to enter your grounds, -and I was not aware that your country house was a fortress." - -"Such as it is, signor, palace or hovel, I am the master of it, and I -beg you to consider yourself informed that no one is at liberty to enter -it without my permission." - -"By Bacchus! signor count, you are terribly afraid that I shall ask -leave to enter your house, for you refuse me beforehand with a tartness -which gives me much food for thought. If, as I believe, Alezia Aldini is -in this house, I begin to hope, for her sake, that she came here on your -account. Give me that assurance, and I will go away content." - -"I do not recognize any man's right to question me on any subject," -rejoined Nasi; "least of all do I recognize your right to question me -concerning a woman to whom your conduct at this moment is a deadly -insult." - -"Damnation! I am her cousin! She is in my mother's charge. What answer -is my mother to give my uncle, Prince Grimani, when he asks her for his -stepdaughter? And how do you suppose that my mother, who is old and -infirm, is to run about the country after a young madcap who rides like -a dragoon?" - -"I am certain, signor," retorted Nasi, "that your mother did not -instruct you to search for her niece in such a noisy fashion as this, -and to question everybody you meet in such an unseemly way; for if that -were the case, her anxiety would be more insulting than protecting, and -to place the object of such protection out of reach of your zeal would -be a matter of duty with me." - -"Very well," said Hector, "I see that you do not propose to give up our -fugitive. You are a knight of the olden time, signor count! Remember -that from this time forth my mother is relieved of all responsibility to -Signora Aldini's mother. You may arrange this unpleasant business as you -think best. For my own part, I wash my hands of it; I have done what I -could and what it was my duty to do. I will simply request you to say to -Alezia Aldini that she is at liberty to marry whomever she pleases, and -that I will interpose no obstacle so far as I am concerned. I yield my -right to you, my dear count. May you never have to seek your wife in -another man's house, for you see by my example what an absurd figure one -cuts under such circumstances." - -"Many people think, signor count," replied Nasi, "that there is always -some way to dignify the most uncomfortable position, and to compel -respect, however ridiculous one may appear. One does not cut an absurd -figure except as the result of an absurd action." - -At this severe retort, a significant murmur from his two friends made it -clear to Hector that he could not retreat. - -"Signor count," he said, "you speak of an absurd action. What do you -call an absurd action, I pray to know?" - -"You can give my words whatever meaning you please, signor." - -"You insult me, signor!" - -"That is for you to say, signor. It is none of my affair." - -"You will give me satisfaction, I presume?" - -"Very good." - -"Your hour?" - -"Whenever you choose." - -"To-morrow morning at eight o'clock, on the plain of Maso, if that is -agreeable to you. These gentlemen will be my seconds." - -"Very good, signor; my friend here will be mine." - -Hector glanced at me with a disdainful smile, and, leading Nasi aside, -with his two companions, said to him: - -"Come, come, my dear count, allow me to tell you that this is carrying -the jest too far. Now that it has come to a question of fighting, we -should be serious for a moment, it seems to me. My seconds are gentlemen -of rank: the Marquis de Mazzorbo and Signor de Monteverbasco. I am sure -that you would not associate with them, as your second, this person to -whom I ordered my servant to give twenty francs the other day for tuning -a piano at my mother's house. Really, I cannot stand such a thing. -Yesterday, we discovered that this person has an intrigue with my -cousin, and to-day you tell us that he is your intimate friend. Be good -enough at least to tell us his name." - -"You are utterly mistaken, signor count. This _person_, as you call him, -does not tune pianos, and has never set foot in your mother's house. He -is Signor Lelio, one of our greatest artists, and one of the best and -most honorable men whom I know." - -I had overheard indistinctly the beginning of this conversation, and, -finding that I was the subject of discussion, had walked rapidly toward -the group. When I heard Count Hector speak bluntly of an _intrigue_ with -Alezia, the dissatisfaction which I felt because the battle was being -fought without me changed to indignation, and I determined to make some -one of our adversaries pay for the falseness of my position. I could not -vent my spleen on Count Hector, who had already been insulted by Nasi; -so it was upon Signor de Monteverbasco that the storm fell. That worthy -squire, on learning my name had said simply, with an air of amazement: - -"The deuce!" - -I walked up to him, and looked him in the eye with a threatening -expression. - -"What do you mean by that, signor?" - -"Why, I said nothing, signor." - -"I beg your pardon, signor, you said: 'That is still worse.'" - -"No, signor, I did not say so." - -"Yes, signor, you did say so." - -"If you absolutely insist upon it, signor, let us agree that I did say -it." - -"Ah! you admit it at last. Very good, signor; if you do not consider me -good enough for a second, I shall find a way to compel you to consider -me good enough for an adversary." - -"Is this a challenge, signor?" - -"Call it whatever you please, signor. But let me tell you that I don't -remember your name, and that I don't like your face." - -"It is well, signor; if agreeable to you, we will meet at the same time -and place as these gentlemen." - -"Agreed. Gentlemen, I have the honor to salute you." - -Whereupon, Nasi and I returned to the house, after enjoining silence on -the servants. - -Hector Grimani's conduct on that occasion introduced me to a type of the -men one meets in fashionable society, which I had not before observed. -If it had occurred to me to pass judgment on Hector the first time I had -seen him at Villa Grimani, when he retreated into his cravat and his -nullity in order not to be intolerable to his cousin, I should have said -that he was a weak, harmless, cold, but good-natured youth. Was it -possible that such an insignificant creature could cherish a feeling of -hostility? Could those mechanically refined manners conceal an -instinctive tendency to brutal domination and cowardly resentment? I -would not have believed it; I did not expect to hear him demand -satisfaction of Nasi for his harsh reception; for I thought that he was -more polished and less courageous, and I was astonished to find that, -after being foolish enough to invite such a castigation, he had -sufficient determination to resent it. The fact is that Hector was not -one of those insignificant men who never do good or evil. He was -ill-tempered and presumptuous; but, being conscious of his intellectual -mediocrity, he always allowed himself to be overborne in discussion; -then, spurred on by hatred and vindictiveness, he would insist on -fighting. He fought frequently and always on some insufficient ground, -so that his tardy and obstinate courage did him more harm than good. - -Before I would allow Nasi to return to Alezia, I took him aside and told -him that everything that had happened had come about against my wish; -that I had never intended to seduce or elope with or marry Signora -Aldini, and that it was my firm determination to part from her instantly -and forever, unless honor made it obligatory upon me to marry her, in -order to repair the harm she had done herself on my account. I desired -Nasi to decide that question. - -"But before I tell you the whole story," I said, "we must consider the -question that is most urgent at this moment, and take such measures that -our young guest may be compromised as little as possible. I must tell -you one thing that she doesn't know, that her mother will be here -to-morrow evening. I propose to send a man to the first relay station, -so that she may be told to come here directly and join her daughter, -instead of looking for her at Villa Grimani. As soon as I have placed -Signora Alezia in her mother's hands, I trust that everything will be -straightened out; but, until then, what explanation am I to give her of -the extreme reserve with which I propose to treat her?" - -"The best way," said Nasi, "would be to persuade her to leave here and -go back to her aunt, or, failing that, to go into a convent for -twenty-four hours. I will try to make her understand that her position -here is not tenable." - -He joined Alezia. But all his excellent arguments were thrown away. -Checca, faithful to her habit of boasting, had told the girl that she -was Nasi's mistress, that the count had left her after a quarrel, and -that it was then that he had proposed for Alezia's hand; but that, being -fully cured by her refusal, and drawn back by an unconquerable passion -to his mistress's feet, he was ready to marry her. So that Alezia -considered that it was perfectly proper for her to be in Nasi's house, -and she was overjoyed to learn that he, like herself, had made up his -mind to yield to the craving of his heart, and to break with public -opinion. She promised herself that she would find in that happy couple -congenial companionship for her whole life and friendship proof against -any trial. She was afraid of my scruples, if she left Nasi's house, and -of the efforts of her family to reconcile her with society. So she -obstinately persisted in ruining herself, and finally informed Nasi that -she would not leave his house unless she was compelled by force to do -so. - -"In that case, signora," said the count, "you will permit me to take the -course which honor enjoins upon me. I am your brother, as that is your -wish. I accept that rôle with gratitude and resignation, and I have -already acted the part by standing between you and Count Hector's -insolent demands. I shall continue to act in accordance with the -counsels of my respect and devotion; but if a brother's rights do not go -to the extent of ordering his sister to do this thing or that, they -certainly authorize him to put away from her anything that can injure -her reputation. You will allow me therefore to exclude Lelio from this -house until your mother is here, and I have just sent a messenger to -her, so that you will be able to embrace her to-morrow evening." - -"To-morrow evening?" cried Alezia; "that is too soon. No, I don't want -her to come yet. Happy as I shall be to see my darling mother, I am -determined to have time enough to be compromised in the eyes of society, -and irrevocably ruined in its opinion. I insist upon starting off with -Lelio to meet my mother. When it is known that I have actually travelled -with him, no one will find excuse for me, no one will be able to forgive -me, except my mother." - -"Lelio will not comply with your desire, my dear sister," replied Nasi; -"he will do just what I advise; for his heart is all delicacy and honor, -and he has made me the final judge." - -"Very well!" said Alezia, with a laugh; "go and order him, in my name, -to come here." - -"I will go to him," replied Nasi, "for I see that you are not disposed -to listen to any prudent counsel. And I will go with him and take rooms -for him and myself in the village inn, which you see at the end of the -avenue. If you should be exposed to any fresh outrage on the part of -Signor Ettore Grimani, you have only to signal from your window and ring -the garden bell, and we shall be under arms instantly. But you need have -no fear, he will not return. You can take possession of Lelio's room, -which is much more suitable for you than this one. Your maid will remain -here to wait upon you and bring me your orders, if it is your pleasure -to give me any." - -Nasi having joined me, and given me an account of this interview, I -opened my heart to him and told him almost everything, but without -mentioning Bianca. I explained to him how I had thoughtlessly become -involved in an adventure, the heroine of which had at first seemed to me -coquettish even to the point of impudence, and how, as I discovered from -day to day the purity of her heart and the moral elevation of her -character, I had been led on in spite of myself to play the part of a -man ready to attempt anything. - -"Then you do not love Signora Aldini?" said the count, in a tone of -amazement in which I fancied that I could detect a slight touch of -contempt for me. I was not hurt, for I knew that I did not deserve that -contempt; and his esteem for me was restored when he learned how hard I -had fought to remain virtuous, although consumed by love and desire. But -when it became necessary to explain to the count how it happened that I -was so positively determined not to marry Alezia, however indulgent her -mother's heart might prove to be, I was embarrassed. I asked him this -question: whether Alezia's reputation would be so seriously compromised -by what she had done, that it would be my duty to marry her in order to -make her honor whole. The count smiled and replied, taking my hand -affectionately: - -"My dear Lelio, you do not yet know how much rank idiocy there is in the -social circle in which Alezia was born, nor how much corruption its -stern censorship conceals. Let me tell you, so that you may laugh at -such ideas and despise them as I do, that Alezia, after being seduced by -you in her aunt's house and being your mistress for a year--provided -there had been no noise or scandal about it,--could still make what is -called a good match, and that no great family would close its doors to -her. She would hear more or less whispering about her, and some rigidly -virtuous women would forbid their newly married daughters to become -intimate with her; but she would be all the more popular for that, and -receive all the more attention from the men. But if you should marry -Alezia, even though it should be proved that she had remained pure to -the day of her marriage, she would never be forgiven for being the wife -of an actor. You are one of those men upon whom calumny can gain no -hold. Many sensible persons might think Alezia had made a noble choice, -and done a praiseworthy thing in marrying you; very few would dare say -so aloud, and even if she should become a widow, the doors that had been -closed to her would never be reopened; for she would never find a man in -society who would care to marry her after you; her family would look -upon her as dead, and not even her mother would be allowed to mention -her name. Such is the fate that awaits Alezia if you marry her. Reflect, -and if you are not sure that you still love her, beware of an unhappy -marriage; for it will be impossible for you to give her back to her -family and friends after she has once borne your name. If, on the other -hand, you feel confident that you will always love her, marry her; for -her devotion to you is something sublime, and no man on earth is more -deserving of it than you." - -I was lost in thought, and the count feared that he had wounded me by -his plain-speaking, despite the complimentary remarks with which he had -tried to soften its bitterness. I reassured him. - -"That is not what I am thinking about," I said; "I am thinking of -Signora Bianca,--Princess Grimani, I mean,--and of the sorrow that would -make her life a burden if I should marry her daughter." - -"It would be very bitter, in truth," replied the count; "and if you know -that amiable and charming young woman, you will think twice before -exposing her to the wrath of those arrogant and implacable Grimanis." - -"I will not expose her to it," I exclaimed earnestly, as if speaking to -myself. - -"I doubt if that resolution comes from a heart that is very deeply in -love," said the count; "but it comes from a noble and generous heart, -and that is much better. Whatever you may do, I am your friend, and I -will uphold your decision against the whole world." - -I embraced him, and we passed the rest of the day together at the inn -near by. He made me tell him the whole story again, and the interest -with which he questioned me concerning the most trivial details, the -secret anxiety with which he listened to the narration of the perilous -episode when my virtue had been put to the test, showed me plainly -enough that that noble heart was deeply smitten with Alezia Aldini. -While it made him wince to hear what I had to tell, it was evident to me -that each new proof of courage and devotion which Alezia had given me -quickened his enthusiasm and rekindled his love in spite of him. He -constantly interrupted me to say: "That was fine, Lelio! that was fine! -that was noble of you! If I had been in your place, I should not have -had so much courage! I would commit a thousand follies for that -woman."--And yet, when I gave him my reasons--and I gave them all to -him, without, however, mentioning the love I had once felt for -Bianca--he approved my virtue and resolution; and when I became sad in -spite of myself, he said to me: "Courage, courage! Eighteen or twenty -hours more, and Alezia will be saved. I think that we will treat the -Grimanis to-morrow in such fashion as to take away any desire on their -part to talk about the affair. The princess will take her daughter away, -and some day Alezia will bless you because you were wiser than she; for -love lives but a day, and prejudices have ineradicable roots." - -We passed several hours of the night putting our affairs in order. Nasi -bequeathed his villa to Checchina in case of emergency. The excellent -creature's behavior toward Alezia had filled the count's generous heart -with esteem and gratitude. - -When we had finished, we snatched a few hours' sleep, and I awoke at -daybreak. Someone entered my room: it was Checca. - -"You have made a mistake," I said; "the next room is Nasi's." - -"I am not looking for him, but for you," she said. "Listen to me: you -mustn't marry this marchesina." - -"Why not, my dear Francesca?" - -"I will tell you. Obstacles and dangers kindle her love for you; but she -hasn't so much strength of mind, nor is she so free from prejudices, as -she pretends. She is a kind, charming, lovable creature. Seriously, I -love her with all my heart; but she has told me unconsciously, while -talking with me, more than a hundred things which prove that she thinks -that she is making an enormous sacrifice for you, and that she will -regret it some day unless you appreciate its extent as fully as she -does. And, tell me, can we actors, who are full of perfectly just -prejudices against society, and despise it as much as it despises us, -can we, I say, appreciate such sacrifices? No, no; the day would come, -Lelio, I tell you, when, even though she did not sigh for society, she -would accuse you of ingratitude at the first grievance she had against -you; and it is a pitiful thing for a man to be the bankrupt debtor of -his wife." - -In three words I told Checca what my plans were with respect to Alezia. -When she saw that I fully agreed with her, she said: - -"My dear Lelio, I have an idea. This is not the time to think for -ourselves alone, or at all events our thoughts even for ourselves should -be noble thoughts, and such as to assure us a clear conscience for the -future. Nasi loves Alezia. She has not been your mistress; there is no -reason why he should not marry her; he must marry her." - -I was not altogether sure that Checca was not impelled by a feeling of -jealous disquiet to talk to me in that way, in order to make me talk; -but she continued, giving me no time to reply: - -"Be sure that what I tell you is true, Lelio; Nasi is wild over her. He -is as melancholy as death. He looks at her with eyes which seem to say: -'If only I were Lelio!' And when he gives me any token of affection, I -can see that he does it from gratitude for what I am doing for her." - -"Do you really think so, my dear Checca?" I said, marvelling at her -penetration and the great good sense which she displayed on great -occasions, ridiculous as she was in trifles. - -"I tell you I am sure of it. So they must be married. Let us leave them -together. Let us go away at once." - -"Let us go to-night; I agree to that," said I; "until then it is -impossible. I will tell you the reason in two or three hours. Go back to -Alezia before she wakes." - -"Oh! she is not asleep," replied Checca; "she has done nothing but pace -the floor in great agitation all night long. Her maid Lila, who insisted -on sleeping in her room, talks with her from time to time, and irritates -her exceedingly by her remonstrances; for, I warn you, she doesn't -approve of her mistress's love for you. But when she begins to sigh and -say: '_Povera Signora Bianca_! _povera principessa madre_!' the fair -Alezia bursts into tears and throws herself sobbing on her bed. At that -the soubrette implores her not to kill her mother with grief. I can hear -all this from my room. _Addio_; I am going back. If you are fully -decided to decline this marriage, think of my plan, and prepare to lend -a hand to the poor count's love." - -At eight o'clock in the morning we repaired to the battle-field. Count -Hector handled his sword like Saint-Georges; and it was a good thing for -him that he had had much practice in that detestable kind of argument, -for it was the only kind that he had at his service. Nasi was slightly -wounded; luckily, Hector behaved reasonably well; without apologizing -for his conduct with respect to Nasi, he agreed that he had spoken ill -of his cousin in the first outburst of his anger, and he requested Nasi -to beg her pardon in his behalf. He concluded by asking his two friends -to give him their word of honor to keep the whole affair a profound -secret, and they gave it. As Nasi and I acted as seconds for each other, -he refused to leave the field until I had fought. His servant dressed -his wound on the spot, and the battle between Signor de Monteverbasco -and myself began. I wounded him quite severely, but not mortally, and -when his physician had taken him away in his carriage, Nasi and I -returned to the villa. As he did not wish it to be known at the inn that -he was wounded, he was taken to the summer-house in his garden. -Checchina, being secretly informed of what had taken place, joined us -there, and gave him such care as his condition demanded. When he was -able to show himself, he asked Checchina to tell Alezia that he had had -a fall from his horse; then he appeared and bade her good-morning. But -old Cattina, who had been released, and who, despite the lesson she had -received, could not refrain from prying into everything, in order to -gossip with all the neighbors, knew that we had fought, and had already -told Alezia, who threw herself into the count's arms as soon as he -entered the salon. When she had thanked him with the most effusive -warmth, she asked where I was. In vain did the count reply that I was -under arrest in the summer-house by his order; she persisted in -believing that I was dangerously wounded and that they were trying to -conceal the fact from her. She threatened to go down to the garden to -find out for herself. The count was exceedingly anxious that she should -do nothing imprudent before the servants. He preferred to come after me -and take me to her. Thereupon Alezia, undisturbed by the presence of -Nasi and Checca, reproached me warmly for what she called my exaggerated -scruples. - -"You cannot love me very much," she said, "since you refuse to assist me -when I am absolutely determined to compromise myself for you." - -She said the wildest and most loving words to me, but did not once lose -the exquisite instinct of modesty which belongs to all young girls not -absolutely devoid of mind. Checchina, who listened to this dialogue from -an artistic standpoint, was utterly amazed, so she told me afterward, -_della parte della marchesina_. As for Nasi, a score of times I -surprised his melancholy gaze fixed upon Alezia and myself with -indescribable emotion. - -Alezia's vehemence became decidedly embarrassing. She called me cold, -constrained; she declared that there was no joy, that is to say, no -frankness in my glance. She took alarm at my conduct, she waxed -indignant at my lack of courage. She was intensely excited, she was as -lovely as Domenichino's sibyl. I was very miserable at that moment, for -my love reawoke, and I realized the full extent of the sacrifice I must -make. - -A carriage drove into the garden, and we did not hear it, we were -talking so earnestly. Suddenly the door opened and Princess Grimani -appeared. - -Alezia uttered a piercing shriek and rushed into her mother's arms, who -held her there a long time without speaking; then she fell gasping upon -a chair. Her daughter and Lila knelt at her feet and covered her with -caresses. I do not know what Nasi said to her, nor what she replied as -she pressed his hand. I was rooted to the spot where I stood; I saw -Bianca again after ten years. How changed she was! but how touchingly -beautiful she still seemed to me, despite the loss of her early bloom! - -Her great blue eyes, sunken in their orbits which tears had deepened, -seemed even softer and sweeter than I remembered them. Her pallor moved -me deeply, and her figure, more slender and slightly bent, seemed to me -better suited to that loving, weary heart. She did not recognize me; and -when Nasi called me by name she seemed surprised; for the name Lelio -told her nothing. At last I decided to speak to her; but she had no -sooner heard the first word than she sprang to her feet, recognizing me -by my voice, and held out her arms to me, crying: - -"O my dear Nello!" - -"Nello!" cried Alezia, rising hastily; "Nello the gondolier?" - -"Did you not know him?" said her mother; "haven't you recognized him -until this moment?" - -"Ah! I understand," said Alezia in a stifled voice, "I understand why he -cannot love me!" - -And she fell at full length on the floor in a swoon. - -I passed the rest of the day in the salon with Nasi and Checca. Alezia -was in bed, wildly hysterical and delirious. Her mother alone was with -her. We were all very melancholy at supper. At last, about ten o'clock, -Bianca came and told us that her daughter was calmer, and that she would -soon return and talk with me. About midnight she returned, and we passed -two hours together, while Nasi and Checca sat with Alezia, who was much -better and had asked to see them. Bianca was as lovely as an angel with -me. Under any other circumstances she might, perhaps, have been -embarrassed by her title of princess and her new social position; but -motherly affection stifled all other feelings. She thought of nothing -but expressing her gratitude to me; she did so in the most flattering -terms and with the most affectionate manner imaginable. She did not seem -to have dreamed for a single instant that I could hesitate to give her -daughter back to her and put aside all thought of marrying her. I was -grateful to her for it. It was the only way in which she gave me to -understand that the past was still living in her memory. I had the -delicacy to refrain from alluding to it; however, I should have been -very happy if she had not feared to talk of it with perfect freedom; it -would have been a greater token of esteem than all the rest. - -Doubtless Alezia had told her everything; doubtless she had made a -general confession of all the thoughts of her whole life, from the night -on which she had surprised her love-affair with the gondolier down to -that on which she had confided that secret to Lelio, the actor. -Doubtless the mutual suffering caused by such an outpouring of the heart -had been purified by the flame of maternal and filial love. Bianca told -me that her daughter was calm and resigned, and that she hoped to see me -some day and express her unchangeable affection, her great esteem, her -cordial gratitude ---- In a word, the sacrifice was consummated. - -I did not leave the princess until I had told her of my earnest hope -that Alezia would some day accept Nasi's love, and I urged her to -cultivate the present inclinations of that honorable and excellent young -man. - -I returned to my inn at four o'clock in the morning. I found Nasi there; -he had, in accordance with my instructions, made all necessary -preparations for my departure. When I appeared with Francesca, he -thought that she had come to see me off and bid me good-bye. Imagine his -surprise when she embraced him and said, in a truly imperial tone: - -"Be free, Nasi! win Alezia's love; I give you back your promise and -remain your friend." - -"Lelio," he cried, "so you are robbing me of her too?" - -"Do you not trust my honor?" I said. "Haven't I given you proofs enough -of it since yesterday? And do you doubt Francesca's grandeur of soul?" - -He threw himself into our arms, weeping. We entered our carriage just at -sunrise. As we passed Villa Nasi, a blind was cautiously opened and a -woman leaned out to look after us. She had one hand on her heart, the -other she waved to me by way of farewell, and raised her eyes to heaven -to express her thanks: it was Bianca. - -Three months later, Checca and I arrived at Venice one lovely evening in -autumn. We had an engagement at La Fenice, and we took rooms on the -Grand Canal, at the best hotel in the city. We passed the first hours -after our arrival unpacking our trunks and putting our stage wardrobe in -order. Not until that was done did we dine. It was quite late. At -dessert they brought me several packages of letters, one of which caught -my eye at once. After looking through it, I opened the window on the -balcony, called to Checca to go out with me, and told her to look across -the canal. Among the numerous palaces which cast their shadows on the -placid water, there was one, directly opposite our apartments, easily -distinguishable by its size and its antiquity. It had been magnificently -restored. Everything about it had a festive air. Through the windows we -could see, by the light of countless candles, superb bouquets and -gorgeous curtains, and we could hear the melodious strains of a large -orchestra. Gondolas, brilliantly illuminated, glided silently along the -Grand Canal and deposited at the palace door women bedecked with flowers -and gleaming jewels, and their escorts in ceremonious costume. - -"Do you know," I asked Checca, "what palace this is opposite us, and the -occasion of this party?" - -"No, and I am not at all curious." - -"It is the Aldini Palace, where the marriage of Alezia Aldini and Count -Nasi is being celebrated." - -"Bah!" she said, with a half-surprised, half-indifferent air. - -I showed her the packet I had received. It was from Nasi. It contained -two invitations and two letters, one from Nasi to her, one from Alezia -to me, both charming. - -"You see," I continued, when Checca had finished hers, "that we have no -reason to complain of their treatment of us. These letters followed us -to Florence and to Milan, and our constant journeyings are to blame for -their not having reached us until now. And the letters are as kind and -agreeable as it is possible for them to be. It is easy to see that they -were dictated by noble hearts. Great nobles as they are, they are not -afraid to speak to us, one of his friendship, the other of her -gratitude." - -"Yes, but meanwhile they don't invite us to their wedding." - -"In the first place, they don't know that we are here; and in the second -place, my dear sister, the rich people and the nobles do not invite -singers to their parties, except to have them sing; and those who don't -choose to sing to entertain their hosts are not invited at all. That is -the justice of society; and kind-hearted and sensible as our young -friends are, as they live in that society, they are obliged to submit to -its laws." - -"Faith! so much the worse for them, my dear Lelio! Let them do as they -please. They leave us to amuse ourselves without them, let us leave them -to be bored to death without us. Let us snap our fingers at the pride of -the great, laugh at their follies, spend money merrily when we have it, -and accept poverty cheerfully if it comes; above all things, let us -cling to our liberty, let us enjoy life while we can, and long live -Bohemia!" - -Here Lelio's story came to an end. When he had ceased to speak, none of -us broke the melancholy silence. Our friend seemed even more depressed -than the rest of us. Suddenly he raised his head, which he had rested on -his hand, and said: - -"On the last evening that I referred to, there were many French people -among the guests; and as they were infatuated with German music, they -made the orchestra play Weber's and Beethoven's waltzes all the evening. -That is why those waltzes are so dear to me; they always recall a period -of my life which I shall never cease to regret, despite the suffering -with which it was filled. You must admit, my friends, that destiny has -been very cruel to me, in placing in my path two passions so ardent, so -sincere, so self-sacrificing, and not permitting me to enjoy either of -them. Alas! my time has passed now, and I shall never again know aught -of those noble passions of which one must have drained at least one to -the dregs in order to be able to say that he has known life." - -"Do not complain," said Beppa, aroused by her companion's melancholy; -"you have an irreproachable life behind you, fair renown and kind -friends around you, and independence in the future and forever; and I -tell you that love will not fail you when you seek it. So fill your -glass once more with this generous wine, drink gayly with us, and lead -us as we sing the sacred refrain in chorus." - -Lelio hesitated a moment, filled his glass, and heaved a deep sigh; then -a gleam of youth and merriment flashed from his fine black eyes, moist -with tears, and he sang in a resounding voice, to which we answered in -chorus: - -"Long live Bohemia!" - - -[Footnote 6: The glance of the evil eye. This superstition is common all -over Italy. At Naples they wear coral talismans as a safeguard.] - -[Footnote 7: In God's name, don't row! we are not on the Adriatic.] - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PICCININO, VOLUME 02 (OF -2); THE LAST OF ALDINIS *** - -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. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following -the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use -of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for -copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very -easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation -of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project -Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away--you may -do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected -by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark -license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project -Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™ -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the -Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™ -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country other than the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work -on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the -phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere 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. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project -Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™ -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™ -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg™ License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format -other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ website -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain -Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -provided that: - -• You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation.” - -• You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™ - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™ - works. - -• You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -• You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of -the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set -forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right -of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you “AS-IS”, WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™ - -Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™'s -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, -Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up -to date contact information can be found at the Foundation's website -and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without -widespread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our 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/69840-0.zip b/old/69840-0.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 0c8bc3b..0000000 --- a/old/69840-0.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/69840-h.zip b/old/69840-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 307d447..0000000 --- a/old/69840-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/69840-h/69840-h.htm b/old/69840-h/69840-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 1c3bc2b..0000000 --- a/old/69840-h/69840-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,14844 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html> -<html lang="en"> -<head> -<meta charset="UTF-8"> -<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Piccinino Vol. 02 (of 2); -The last of Aldinis 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%;} - -.center {text-align: center;text-indent:0%;} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; - clear: both; -} - -.blockquote { - margin-left: 5%; - margin-right: 10%; - margin-top: 5%; - margin-bottom: 5% -} - -.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; -} - -.poem { - margin-left:10%; - margin-right:10%; - text-align: left; -} -.poetry-container { text-align: center; } -.poem br {display: none;} -.poetry { text-align: center; } -.poem { display: inline-block; text-align: left; } -.poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} -.poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 1em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - - </style> -</head> - -<body> -<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Piccinino, Volume 02 (of 2); The last of Aldinis, 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 02 (of 2); The last of Aldinis</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:1em;'>The masterpieces of George Sand, volume 8</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 Ives</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 #69840]</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 02 (OF 2); THE LAST OF ALDINIS ***</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 VIII</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 <a href="#part2">THE LAST OF THE<br> -ALDINIS</a> 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 II</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>SIGNORA ALDINI AND HER GONDOLIER.</i></p> -<p class="smaller"> -<i>I saw the blood come and go in the signora's -cheeks as I took the oar and eagerly pushed against -the marble steps which seemed to flee behind us.</i></p> -</div></div> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4>CONTENTS</h4> -<p class="nind"> -THE PICCININO<br> -CHAPTER<br> -XXXVI. <a href="#chap36">THE FAMILY PORTRAITS</a><br> -XXXVII. <a href="#chap37">BIANCA</a><br> -XXXVIII. <a href="#chap38">A COUP DE MAIN</a><br> -XXXIX. <a href="#chap39">AN IDYLL</a><br> -XL. <a href="#chap40">DECEPTION</a><br> -XLI. <a href="#chap41">JEALOUSY AND GRATITUDE</a><br> -XLII. <a href="#chap42">AN EMBARRASSING CONJUNCTURE</a><br> -XLIII. <a href="#chap43">A CRISIS</a><br> -XLIV. <a href="#chap44">REVELATIONS</a><br> -XLV. <a href="#chap45">MEMORIES</a><br> -XLVI. <a href="#chap46">GLADNESS OF HEART</a><br> -XLVII. <a href="#chap47">THE VULTURE</a><br> -XLVIII. <a href="#chap48">THE MARQUIS</a><br> -XLIX. <a href="#chap49">DANGER</a><br> -L. <a href="#chap50">A NOCTURNAL JOURNEY</a><br> -LI. <a href="#chap51">CATASTROPHE</a><br> -LII. <a href="#chap52">CONCLUSION</a><br> -<a href="#ALDINIS">THE LAST OF THE ALDINIS</a><br> -<a href="#INTRODUCTION">INTRODUCTION</a><br> -<a href="#FIRST_PART">FIRST PART</a><br> -<a href="#SECOND_PART">SECOND PART</a></p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS -<br> -THE PICCININO<br> -THE LAST OF THE ALDINIS<br> -<br> -VOLUME II</h4> - -<p class="nind"> -<a href="#frontispiece">SIGNORA ALDINI AND HER GONDOLIER</a><br> - -<a href="#figure01">THE PICCININO RECEIVES MILA</a><br> - -<a href="#figure02">AGATHA PROTECTS MICHELANGELO</a><br> - -<a href="#figure03">NELLO ENTERS THE ALDINI PALACE</a><br> - -<a href="#figure04">THE STRANGE LUNCHEON</a><br> - -<a href="#figure05">ALEZIA VISITS CHECCHINA</a></p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4>THE PICCININO -<br> -(<i>Continued</i>)</h4> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap36"></a>XXXVI -<br><br> -THE FAMILY PORTRAITS</h4> - -<p> -"Well," replied Michel, emboldened by his host's dignified arguments and -sincere kindliness, "I will tell you my whole thought; and I trust that -Master Barbagallo will permit me to speak before him, even though what I -have to say may be offensive to his beliefs. If the study of heraldic -science were a useful and moral study, Master Barbagallo, the favored -nursling of that science, would regard all men as equal before God, and -would recognize no distinction except between narrow-minded or wicked -and intelligent or virtuous men. He would appreciate fully the vanity of -titles and the very doubtful value of genealogical trees. He would have -broader views concerning the history of the human race, as we were -saying just now; and he would view that wonderful history with a glance -no less firm than impartial. Whereas, if I am not mistaken, he views it -with a certain narrowness of vision which I cannot accept. He esteems -nobility an excellent thing because it is privileged; he despises the -common people because they have no history and no memories. I will wager -that he despises himself by dint of admiring the grandeur of others, -unless he has discovered amid the dust of some library some document -which affords him the honor of deeming himself related in the fourteenth -degree to some illustrious family." -</p> -<p> -"I have not that honor," said the majordomo, somewhat disconcerted. -"However, I have had the satisfaction of assuring myself that I am not -descended from ignoble stock; some of my male ancestors were men of -distinction in the clergy and in business." -</p> -<p> -"I congratulate you most sincerely," said Michel, ironically; "for my -own part, it has never occurred to me to ask my father whether our -ancestors were sign-painters, beadles or majordomos. Indeed, I admit -that it is a matter of perfect indifference to me, and that I have never -had but one thought in that direction—namely, to owe any celebrity I -may attain to myself, and to create my own coat-of-arms with my palette -and brushes." -</p> -<p> -"Good!" exclaimed the marquis, "a noble ambition. You aspire to be the -founder of a race illustrious in the arts, and to earn your own -nobility, instead of throwing it away, as so many poor creatures do who -are unworthy to bear a great name. But would you consider it a -disadvantage that your descendants should be proud to bear your name?" -</p> -<p> -"Yes, signor marquis, I would, if my descendants were ignorant fools." -</p> -<p> -"My friend," replied the marquis, very calmly, "I am aware that the -nobility has degenerated in all countries, and I do not need to tell you -that it is the less pardonable in proportion to the degree of -distinction that it had to bear and of grandeur to maintain. But is it -for us to call this or that social rank to book, or to attempt to decide -concerning the merit or lack of merit of the individuals who compose it? -The most interesting, and at the same time the most profitable course -for us all, in a discussion of this sort, would be to examine the -institution in itself. Will you not tell me your ideas, Michel, and -whether you approve or disapprove the distinctions established between -different classes of men?" -</p> -<p> -"I approve them," said Michel, unhesitatingly, "for I aspire to -distinguish myself; but I disapprove any application of the principle of -heredity in such distinctions." -</p> -<p> -"Of the principle of heredity?" repeated the marquis. "In so far as -fortune and power are concerned, I agree. That is a French idea—a -bold idea. I like such ideas! But in so far as regards disinterested -renown, honor pure and simple—will you allow me to ask you a few -questions, my boy? -</p> -<p> -"Let us assume that Michelangelo Lavoratori, here present, was born only -two or three hundred years ago. Let us assume that he was the rival of -Raphael or Titian, and that he left a name worthy to stand beside those -glorious names. I will assume, also, that this palace in which we now -are belonged to him, and that it has remained in his family. Lastly, let -us assume that you are the last scion of that family, and that you do -not cultivate the art of painting. Your inclinations have turned you -toward some other profession, or perhaps you have no profession, for you -are rich; the noble works of your illustrious ancestor produced a -fortune which his descendants have faithfully transmitted to you. You -are standing here under your own roof, in the portrait gallery in which -your ancestors have their places one after another. Moreover, you know -the history of all of them. It is contained in manuscripts which have -been carefully preserved and handed down in your family. -</p> -<p> -"Let us suppose, further, that I, a child picked up on the steps of a -hospital, wander into this palace. I am ignorant of my father's name, -and even of that of the unfortunate creature who gave birth to me. I -have no ties whatever that bind me to the past, and, born but yesterday, -I gaze with surprise upon this succession of ancestors from whom you -have descended through well-nigh three centuries. I question you in -open-mouthed wonder, and I am even inclined to make sport of you for -living thus with the dead and through the dead; and I doubt whether this -brilliant lineage has not deteriorated a little in the lapse of time. -</p> -<p> -"You answer me by pointing with pride to the founder of your race, the -illustrious Michelangelo Lavoratori, who, from nothing at all, had -become a great man, and whose memory will never perish. Then you tell me -a fact at which I marvel greatly: that the sons and daughters of this -Michel, overflowing with veneration for their father's memory, chose to -be artists too. One was a musician, another an engraver, a third a -painter. If they did not receive from heaven the same talents as their -father, they did at all events retain in their hearts and transmit to -their children respect and love for art. Their children, in their turn, -did likewise, and all these talents, all these mottoes, all these -biographies, which you exhibit to me and explain to me, present the -spectacle of several generations of artists, eager to maintain the -standard of their hereditary profession. Unquestionably only a few among -all these seekers after glory were truly worthy of the name they bore. -Genius is an exception, and it takes you but a short time to point out -to me the small number of noteworthy artists who have upheld by their -own labors the glory of your family. But that small number has been -sufficient to replenish your generous blood, and to maintain in the -ideas of the intermediate generations a certain fire, a certain pride, -a certain thirst for grandeur which may still produce distinguished men. -</p> -<p> -"But I, a foundling, isolated in the vast expanse of time—I -continue my apologue,—a natural scorner of all hereditary -celebrity, seek to lower your pride. I smile with an air of triumph when -you admit that this or that ancestor, whose portrait impresses me by its -air of innocence, was never anything more than a paltry genius, a -narrow-minded creature; that a certain other, whose rakish dress and -bristling moustache I do not like, was a black sheep, a fool or a -fanatic; in short, I give you to understand that you are a degenerate -artist, because you have not inherited the sacred fire, and that you -have fallen asleep in a luxurious <i>far niente</i>, contemplating the -fruitful life of your forefathers. -</p> -<p> -"Thereupon you reply to me; and you will allow me to place in your mouth -a few words which seem to me not devoid of sense: -</p> -<p> -"'I am nothing at all in myself; but I should be even less had I not a -venerable past to lean upon. I am overborne by the apathy natural to -minds devoid of inspiration; but my father taught me one thing which -passed from his blood into mine: that I come of a distinguished family, -and that if I could do nothing to renew its splendor, I should, at all -events, abstain from tastes and ideas which might tarnish it. In default -of genius, I have respect for family tradition, and, having no ground -for pride in myself, I repair the wrong which my nullity might inflict -upon my ancestors by bestowing a sort of adoration upon them. I should -be a hundred times more guilty if, caring naught for my ignorance, I -should shatter their images and profane their memory by airs of -contempt. To deny one's father because one cannot equal him is the act -of a fool or a dastard. On the other hand, it is a pious duty to invoke -his memory in order to obtain forgiveness for being less eminent than -he; and the artists with whom I consort and to whom I have no works of -my own to show, listen to me with interest, at all events, when I speak -to them of the works of my ancestors.' -</p> -<p> -"That is the answer you would make to me, Michel, and do you think that -it would have no effect upon me? It seems to me that if I were the poor, -abandoned child that I have imagined, I should fall into profound -melancholy, and should complain of fate for having dropped me upon the -earth alone, and, so to speak, without sponsors. -</p> -<p> -"But I pass to a less ponderous apologue, and one better adapted to your -artistic imagination, which, however, I beg you will interrupt -immediately if you have already heard it. The anecdote has been -attributed to several persons cut after the pattern of Don Juan, and as -old stories are rejuvenated from generation to generation, it has been -told recently of Cæsar de Castro-Reale, the <i>Destatore</i>, the famous -brigand, who was no ordinary man either in good or evil. -</p> -<p> -"At Palermo, in the days when he sought to deaden his faculties in wild -dissipation, uncertain whether he should succeed in making a perfect -brute of himself, or should decide to raise the standard of rebellion, -it is said that he went one evening to visit a venerable palace which he -had just lost at play, and which he wished to see once more before -leaving it never to return. It was the last remnant of his fortune, and -perhaps the only thing which caused him the slightest regret; for it was -there that he had passed his early years, there that his parents had -died, there that the portraits of his ancestors were buried in the dust -of long neglect. -</p> -<p> -"He went there to notify his steward to receive on the morrow, as the -proprietor of the estate, the nobleman who had won it on a cast of the -dice.—'What,' said the steward, who, like Master Barbagallo, had a -profound respect for family traditions and portraits; 'you have staked -everything, even your father's grave, even the portraits of your -ancestors?' -</p> -<p> -"'Staked and lost everything,' replied Castro-Reale, heedlessly. -'However, there are a few articles which I am able to redeem, and my -successful adversary will not haggle over them. Let us look at these -family portraits! I have forgotten all about them. I used to admire them -at a time when I knew nothing about such things. If there are some which -have merit, I will set them aside and make some arrangement with their -new owner. Take a light and follow me.' -</p> -<p> -"The steward, agitated and trembling, followed his master through the -dark and deserted palace. Castro-Reale strode before, with arrogant -assurance; but they say that he had drunk immoderately on arriving at -his palace, in order to provide himself with a store of stoicism or -recklessness that should last to the end. He himself opened the rusty -door, and seeing that the hand trembled in which the old majordomo held -the light, he took it in his own and held it on a level with the face of -the first portrait in the gallery. It was a fierce warrior armed from -top to toe, with a broad ruffle of Flemish lace over his iron cuirass. -See! here he is, Michel, for the same pictures which play a part in my -narrative are here before your eyes; they are the same which were sent -from Palermo to me, as the last heir of the family." -</p> -<p> -Michel looked at the old warrior and was impressed by his masculine -features, his bristling moustache, and his stern appearance. -</p> -<p> -"Well, your excellency," he said, "that decidedly unamiable and ungenial -face gave the <i>dissoluto</i> food for reflection, I doubt not?" -</p> -<p> -"Especially," replied the marquis, "as the face became animated, the -eyes rolled angrily in their dark orbits, and the lips uttered these -words in a sepulchral voice: '<i>I am not pleased with you!</i>' -Castro-Reale shuddered and recoiled in terror; but, deeming himself the -dupe of his own imagination, he passed to the next portrait and looked -it in the face with an insolence bordering on madness. It was an ancient -and venerable abbess of the Ursulines of Palermo, a great-great-aunt, -who died in the odor of sanctity. You can see her, Michel, yonder on -your right, with her veil, her gold cross, her yellow face wrinkled like -parchment, her piercing and imperious eyes. I fancy that she says -nothing to you; but when Castro-Reale raised the candle to her face, she -blinked her eyes as if dazzled by the sudden light, and said to him in a -strident voice: '<i>I am not pleased with you!</i>' -</p> -<p> -"This time the prince was frightened; he turned to the steward, whose -knees were knocking against each other. But, determined to struggle on -against these warnings from the supernatural world, he suddenly -confronted a third portrait, that of the old magistrate, whom you see -beside the abbess. He put his hand on the frame, not daring to look too -long at the ermine cloak which is hardly distinguishable from the long -white beard; but he tried to shake him, saying: '<i>And you?</i>' -</p> -<p> -"'<i>Nor am I</i>,' replied the magistrate, in the crushing tone of a judge -pronouncing sentence of death. -</p> -<p> -"Castro-Reale dropped his candle, they say, and, unconscious of what he -did, stumbling at every step, went on to the end of the gallery, while -the poor majordomo, frozen with fear, stood dumb and motionless at the -door by which they had entered, daring neither to follow him nor to -abandon him. He heard his master stumbling along in the darkness, at an -uneven, hurried gait, colliding with the furniture and muttering curses; -and he also heard each portrait apostrophize him as he passed with the -terrible, monotonous words: '<i>Nor am I!</i>—<i>Nor am -I!</i>—<i>Nor am I!</i>'—The voices grew fainter as they -receded along the gallery; but all repeated the fatal sentence -distinctly, and Castro-Reale was unable to escape that long series of -maledictions, which not one of his ancestors spared him. It took him a -long while, it seems, to reach the door at the other end. When he had -passed through it and closed it violently behind him, as if he thought -that he was pursued by spectres, silence reigned once more; and, so far -as my knowledge goes, these portraits have never recovered the power of -speech from that day to this." -</p> -<p> -"Tell the rest, tell the rest, your excellency!" cried Fra Angelo, who -had listened to this narrative with gleaming eyes and parted lips; for -despite his intelligence and the education he had received, the -ex-brigand of Ætna was too much of a monk and too much of a Sicilian -not to believe it to a certain extent; "tell him that after that moment -neither the steward of the palace of Castro-Reale, nor any inhabitant of -the province of Palermo ever saw the Prince of Castro-Reale again. There -was, at the end of the gallery, a drawbridge which they heard him cross, -and as his plumed hat was found floating on the water, they concluded -that he was drowned, although they searched in vain for his body." -</p> -<p> -"But the lesson had a more salutary effect," added the marquis. "He fled -into the mountains, organized a band of partisans, and fought there ten -years, to rescue, or, at all events, to avenge his country. False or -true, the story was current for a long while, and the new owner of -Castro-Reale believed it in so far that he preferred not to keep these -terrible family portraits, and sent them to me at once." -</p> -<p> -"I do not know whether the story is authentic," said Fra Angelo. "I -never dared ask the prince; but it is perfectly certain that his -determination to become a partisan came to him in the manor-house of his -ancestors the last time that he visited it. It is certain, too, that he -experienced some violent emotion there, and that he did not like to have -anybody mention his ancestors to him. It is certain, too, that his mind -was never sound after that night, and that I have often heard him say, -in his days of depression: 'Ah! I ought to have blown out my brains when -I crossed the drawbridge of my palace the last time!'" -</p> -<p> -"Surely that is all the truth there is in this fanciful tale," said -Michel. "But no matter! Although there is not the slightest connection -between these illustrious individuals and my humble self, and although I -am not aware that I have any reason to reproach myself with respect to -them, I should be a little disturbed, it seems to me, if I had to pass -the night alone in this gallery." -</p> -<p> -"For my part," said Pier-Angelo, "I am not ashamed to say that I don't -believe a word of this story; and yet, if the signor marquis would give -me his fortune and his palace to boot, I wouldn't take them on the -condition of having to remain here alone an hour, after sunset, with the -lady abbess, the magistrate, and all these illustrious monks and -soldiers. The servants have tried more than once to lock me in here for -their own amusement; but I have never let them catch me, I would jump -out of window first." -</p> -<p> -"And what are we to conclude from all this, with respect to the -nobility?" said Michel to the marquis. -</p> -<p> -"We conclude, my child," replied the Marquis della Serra, "that -privileged nobility is an injustice, but that family traditions and -memories have much force, usefulness and beauty. In France they obeyed a -noble impulse when they invited the nobles to burn their letters patent, -and the nobles performed a duty imposed by tact and good taste by -consummating the holocaust; but afterward they broke open tombs, exhumed -dead bodies, and even insulted the image of Christ, as if the -resting-place of the dead were not sacred, and as if the Son of Mary -were the patron of the great nobles only and not of the poor and lowly. -I forgive all the frenzies of that revolution, and I understand them -better, perhaps, than those persons who have discoursed of them to you, -my young friend; but I also know that the philosophy which guided it was -not very complete or very deep, and that, with respect to the idea of -nobility, as with respect to all other ideas, it was much more -successful in destroying than in building up, in uprooting than in -sowing. Let me say another word to you on this subject, and then we will -go and have some ices out of doors, for I am afraid that all these dead -men and women bore and depress you." -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap37"></a>XXXVII -<br><br> -BIANCA</h4> - -<p> -"Look you, Michel," said the marquis, taking Pier-Angelo's hand in his -right hand and Fra Angelo's in his left; "all men are noble! And I would -stake my head that the Lavoratori family is quite as good as the family -of Castro-Reale. If we are to judge the dead by the living, surely here -are two men who must have had men of worth, men of heart and brain for -ancestors; whereas the <i>Destatore</i>, a mixture of great qualities and -deplorable faults, prince and bandit, repentant devotee and desperate -suicide by turns, as surely gave the lie many a time to the nobility of -the haughty personages whose images surround us. If you are rich some -day, Michel, you will begin a family gallery without realizing it, for -you will paint these two noble faces, your father's and your uncle's, -and you will never sell them!" -</p> -<p> -"And his sister's!" cried Pier-Angelo; "he will not forget hers either, -for it will serve some day as a proof that our race was not unpleasant -to look upon." -</p> -<p> -"Well," continued the marquis, still addressing Michel, "do you not -consider that you have every reason to regret that you do not know the -story of your father's and your uncle's father?" -</p> -<p> -"He was a worthy man!" cried Pier-Angelo; "he was once a soldier, then -an honest mechanic, and I knew him as a most excellent father." -</p> -<p> -"And his brother was a monk like myself," said Fra Angelo. "He was pious -and wise; my memory of him had great influence on me when I was -hesitating about taking the frock." -</p> -<p> -"There you see the influence of family memories!" said the marquis. "But -your grandfather and great-uncle, my friends, what were they?" -</p> -<p> -"As for my great-uncle," replied Pier-Angelo, "I don't know that I ever -had one. But my grandfather was a peasant." -</p> -<p> -"What was his life?" -</p> -<p> -"I was told in my childhood probably, but I don't remember." -</p> -<p> -"And your great-grandfather?" -</p> -<p> -"I never heard of him." -</p> -<p> -"I have a vague remembrance that we had a great-great-grandfather who -was a sailor, and one of the bravest of sailors. But his name has -escaped me. For us the name of Lavoratori dates back but two -generations. It is a sobriquet like most plebeian names. It marks the -transition from one trade to another in our family, when our grandfather -ceased to be a peasant in the mountains to become a mechanic in the -town. Our grandfather's name was Montanari; that was a sobriquet too. -His grandfather had a different name, doubtless. But at that point -everlasting night begins for us, and our genealogy enters into oblivion -so complete that it is equivalent to non-existence." -</p> -<p> -"Even so," rejoined the marquis; "you have summed up the whole history -of the common people in the example of your family. Two or three -generations are conscious of a connecting bond; but all those which -preceded and all those which will follow are strangers to them forever. -Do you consider that just and as it should be, my dear Michel? Is not -this utter neglect of the past, this heedlessness of the future, this -absence of interest in the intermediate generations, a sort of -barbarism, an uncivilized condition of affairs, indicating a most -revolting contempt for the human race?" -</p> -<p> -"You are right, and I understand you, signor marquis," Michel replied. -"The history of each family is the history of the human race, and -whoever knows one knows the other. Certainly the man who knows his own -ancestors, and who derives from a scrutiny of their successive -existences a series of examples to follow or to shun, has, so to speak, -a more intense and more complete life in his heart than he who can refer -only to two or three vague and intangible shadows of the past. Therefore -nobility of birth is a great social privilege; if it imposes grave -duties, it furnishes vast enlightenment and vast powers. The child who -spells out the knowledge of good and evil in books written with the -blood which flows in his own veins, and in the features of the painted -faces which reflect his own image like mirrors in which he loves to -recognize himself, should always become a great man, or at least, as you -said, a man enamored of true grandeur, which is an acquired virtue -supplying the place of inborn virtue. I realize now what there is that -is true and estimable in this principle of heredity which binds the -generations together. What there is in it that is unfortunate, I will -not remind you; you know it better than I." -</p> -<p> -"What there is unfortunate I will tell you myself," replied the marquis. -"There is the fact that nobility is an exclusive privilege which all -families do not share; that established distinctions rest upon a false -principle, and that the peasant hero does not win fame and have his name -inscribed in history like the patrician hero; that the domestic virtues -of the workingman are not recorded in a book that is always open to his -posterity; that the poor and virtuous mother of a family, lovely and -chaste to no purpose, does not leave her name and her image on the walls -of her hovel; that that hovel of the poor man is not even assured to his -descendants as a place of refuge; that all men are not wealthy and free, -so that they may consecrate thought, monuments and works of art to the -worship of their past; lastly, that there is no such thing as the -history of the human race, but only of a few names rescued from -oblivion, which are called illustrious names, heedless of the fact that -at certain times whole nations become illustrious under the influence of -the same deed and the same idea. Who can tell us the names of all the -enthusiastic, noble hearts who have thrown aside the spade or the hoe to -go to fight the infidel? You have ancestors among them, I doubt not, -Pier-Angelo, and you know nothing of them! Or the names of all the -sublime monks who have preached the law of God to savage peoples? Your -ancestors are among them, Fra Angelo, and you know nothing of them! Ah! -my friends, how many noble hearts are stilled forever, how many noble -deeds buried in oblivion without advantage to those who live to-day! How -melancholy and disastrous is this impenetrable darkness of the past to -the common people, and how my heart aches to think that you are probably -descended from the blood of brave men and martyrs, although you cannot -find the faintest trace of their passage upon the paths you follow -through life! Whereas I, who am not so good a man as you, can learn from -Master Barbagallo what ancestor of mine was born or died this month five -hundred years ago! Consider! On one side the unmitigated abuse of this -worship of the patrician; on the other the horror of a vast grave which -swallows up without distinction the consecrated bones and the impure -bones of the common people! Oblivion is a punishment which should be -visited upon the wicked only, and yet it is visited upon no one in our -haughty families; whereas in yours it overtakes the most virtuous! -History is confiscated to our profit, and you people seem to have no -connection whatever with history, which, however, is your work more than -ours!" -</p> -<p> -"Well," said Michel, deeply moved by the marquis's ideas and sentiments, -"you have given me for the first time a true conception of nobility. I -always attributed it to a few glorious personalities, who must be -separated from their race. Now I can imagine lofty and generous -thoughts, succeeding one another from generation to generation, -connecting the generations with one another, and making as much account -of humble virtues as of brilliant deeds. That is judging as God judges, -signor marquis, and if I had the honor and the misery to be of noble -birth—for it is a grievous burden to him who comprehends it—I -should like to see and think as you do." -</p> -<p> -"I thank you," replied the marquis, taking his hand and leading him out -on the terrace of his palace. Pier-Angelo and Fra Angelo looked at each -other with deep emotion; both had understood the full scope of the -marquis's ideas, and they felt strengthened and uplifted by this new -aspect which he had given to life, collective and individual alike. As -for Master Barbagallo, he had listened with religious respect, but had -understood absolutely nothing; and he went away wondering how one could -be noble without a palace, without parchments, without a coat of arms, -and above all else, without family portraits. He concluded that the -nobility could not do without wealth: a marvellous discovery which -fatigued him much. -</p> -<p> -At that moment, as the beak of a great pelican of gilded wood, which did -duty as hour hand on a monumental clock in the gallery of the Della -Serra palace, marked four o'clock in the afternoon, the Piccinino was -thinking that his five or six repeating watches must be slow, so -impatiently did he await Mila's arrival. He went from the English watch -to the Geneva watch, disdaining the Catanian watch which he might have -purchased with his money—for the Catanians are watch-makers as well -as the Genevans—and from the one surrounded with diamonds to the one -adorned with rubies. Being a connoisseur in jewels, he laid claim to -none but articles of the most exquisite quality from the booty taken by -his men. Thus no one knew the time better than he, who was so keen to -make the most of it, and to employ his moments most methodically, in -order to lead side by side a life of study and of meditation, a life of -adventures, intrigues, and <i>coups de main</i>, and a life of pleasure and -of lust, which he neither could nor wished to enjoy otherwise than in -secret. -</p> -<p> -Fierce to the point of despotism in his impatience, he was as intolerant -of having to wait himself as he was fond of making others wait and of -worrying them by skilfully devised delays. This time, however, he had -yielded to the necessity of coming first to the rendezvous. He could not -be sure that Mila would have the courage to wait for him, or to enter -his house if he were not there himself to meet her. He went to the gate -more than ten times, and angrily retraced his steps, afraid to leave the -wooded road that bordered his garden, lest, if he should meet anyone, he -should seem to be intent upon some design. The leading principle in his -scheme of life was always to appear calm and indifferent in the eyes of -placid people, always distraught and preoccupied in the eyes of -busybodies. -</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 PICCININO RECEIVES MILA.</i></p> -<p class="smaller"> -<i>He strode toward Mila with an imperious air, -seized the rein of her mule, and, taking the girl in -his arms as soon as she was in front of his garden -gate, lifted her to the ground, pressing her lovely -body with something very like violence.</i></p> -</div></div> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -When Mila at last appeared at the top of the green path which descended -sharply to his orchard, he was really angry with her, for she was a -quarter of an hour late, and, thanks to the Piccinino's discernment or -fascinations, there was not one among the fair maidens of the mountain -who would have allowed him to be first at the rendezvous in a -love-affair. The brigand's unruly heart was inflamed therefore with -ill-disguised rage; he forgot that he was not dealing with a mistress, -and he strode toward Mila with an imperious air, seized the rein of her -mule, and, taking the girl in his arms as soon as she was in front of -his garden gate, lifted her to the ground, pressing her lovely body with -something very like violence. -</p> -<p> -But Mila, partly opening the folds of her double mantle of muslin, gazed -at him in surprise. -</p> -<p> -"Are we in danger already, my lord?" she said, "or do you think that I -have brought anyone with me? No, no! See, I am alone, I have come with -perfect confidence in you, and you have no reason to be displeased with -me." -</p> -<p> -The Piccinino recovered his self-control as he looked at Mila. She had -ingenuously arrayed herself in her Sunday garb to appear before her -protector. Beneath her purple-velvet waist could be seen a second waist -of a pale blue, embroidered and laced with excellent taste. A light net -of gold thread confined her beautiful hair, in accordance with the -fashion of the province, and to protect her face and her costume from the -sun's scorching heat, she had enveloped herself in the <i>mantellina</i>, -a thin veil of ample proportions, which covers the head and the whole -body, when it is skilfully arranged and worn with grace. The Piccinino's -sturdy mule, bearing a flat saddle of velvet trimmed with gilt nails, -upon which a woman could easily ride sidewise, was panting and restive, -as if proud to have borne and to have saved from all danger so lovely a -rider. It was easy to see, from his foam-flecked sides, that little Mila -had not spared him, or that she had bravely trusted to his zeal. It had -been a dangerous ride, however: ridges of lava to cross, torrents to -ford, precipices to skirt. The mule had taken the shortest path; he had -climbed and leaped like a goat. Mila, seeing how strong and adroit he -was, could not, despite her anxiety, avoid that intense and mysterious -pleasure which women find in danger. She was proud of having felt -physical courage spring to life within her with moral courage; and while -the Piccinino admired the brilliancy of her eyes, and of her cheeks -flushed by the exercise, she, thinking only of the merits of the white -mule, turned and kissed him on the nose, saying: "You are worthy to -carry the pope!" -</p> -<p> -The brigand could not help smiling, and he forgot his anger. -</p> -<p> -"Dear child," he said, "I am very glad that my good Bianca pleases you, -and now I think that she would be worthy to eat from a golden manger, -like the charger of a Roman emperor. But come quickly; I don't wish -anyone to see you come in here." -</p> -<p> -Mila docilely quickened her pace, and when the brigand had led her -across his garden, after securely locking the gate, she allowed him to -escort her into his house, whose neatness and coolness delighted her. -</p> -<p> -"Is this your own house, pray, my lord?" she asked him. -</p> -<p> -"No," he replied, "we are in Carmelo Tomabene's house, as I told you; -but he is my debtor and my friend, and I have a room under his roof to -which I sometimes retire when I need rest and solitude." -</p> -<p> -He led her through the house, which was arranged and furnished in rustic -fashion, but with an orderly, substantial, homelike appearance which the -dwellings of rich peasants seldom display. At the end of the ventilating -corridor, which ran from end to end of the upper floor, he opened a -double door, the inner one being bound with iron, and ushered Mila into -the truncated tower which he had incorporated into his house, so to -speak, and where he had fitted up a dainty and mysterious boudoir. -</p> -<p> -No princess ever possessed one more sumptuous, more sweetly perfumed or -adorned with rarer objects. But no artisan had ever put his hand to it. -The Piccinino himself had concealed the walls beneath hangings of -Oriental silk stitched with gold and silver. The divan of yellow satin -was covered with the skin of a huge royal tiger, whose head startled the -girl at first; but she soon grew bold enough to touch its scarlet-velvet -tongue, its eyes of enamel, and to sit upon its black-striped side. Then -she gazed about with dazzled eyes at the gleaming weapons, the Turkish -sabres adorned with jewels, the pipes with gold tassels, the -chafing-dishes, the China vases, the innumerable objects of an exquisite -beauty, a magnificence or a singularity which appealed to her -imagination like the descriptions of enchanted palaces with which it was -filled. -</p> -<p> -"All this is even more incomprehensible and more beautiful than anything -I have seen at the Palmarosa palace," she said to herself, "and surely -this prince is richer and even more illustrious than the princess. He -must be some claimant to the Sicilian crown, who is working secretly to -bring about the downfall of the Neapolitan government."—What would -this poor child have thought if she had known the source of that piratical -splendor! -</p> -<p> -While she gazed at everything with the artless admiration of a child, -the Piccinino, who had bolted the door and lowered the Chinese shades at -the window, gazed at Mila with the utmost amazement. He had expected -that he would have to tell her the most incredible fables, the most -audacious lies, to induce her to follow him to his lair, and the -facility of his triumph began already to disgust him with it. To be -sure, Mila was the loveliest creature he had ever seen; but was her -perfect tranquillity due to impudence, or stupidity? Could so seductive -a creature possibly be ignorant of the effect her charms were certain to -produce? Could so young a maid risk a tête-à-tête of this sort -without a moment of fear or embarrassment? -</p> -<p> -The Piccinino, observing that she had a very beautiful ring on her -finger, and thinking that he could follow the thread of her thoughts by -following the direction of her glances, said to her, with a smile: "You -love jewels, my dear Mila, and, like all girls, you think more of -personal adornment than of anything else in this world. My mother left -me a few trinkets of some value, which are in that lapis lazuli casket -by your side. Would you like to look at them?" -</p> -<p> -"If I may without indiscretion, I would like to," Mila replied. -</p> -<p> -Carmelo took the casket, placed it on the girl's knees, and, kneeling -beside her on the edge of the tiger's skin, he displayed before her eyes -a mass of necklaces, rings, chains and buckles which were thrown -pell-mell into the casket with a sort of superb contempt for such a -multitude of priceless objects, some of which were masterpieces of -old-fashioned carved work, others perfect treasures by reason of the -beauty and great size of the diamonds. -</p> -<p> -"My lord," said the girl, running her inquisitive fingers over all this -wealth, while the Piccinino fastened his dry, inflamed eyes upon her at -close range, "you have too little respect for your mother's jewels. My -mother left me only a few bits of ribbon and a pair of scissors with -gold handles, which I preserve as relics, and which are very carefully -stowed away in my closet. If we had time before that accursed abbé -comes, I would put this casket in order." -</p> -<p> -"Do not take that trouble," said the Piccinino; "indeed we have not -time. But you have time enough to take whatever you would like to keep." -</p> -<p> -"I?" said Mila, with a laugh, replacing the casket on the mosaic table. -"What should I do with them? Not only should I, a poor silk-spinner, be -ashamed to wear a princess's jewels, which, by the way, being your -mother's, you should give only to your betrothed, but I should be very -much embarrassed with all these inconvenient trinkets. I like to look at -jewels, and, also, to touch them, as hens turn over with their claws -anything shiny that they see on the ground. But I prefer to see them on -somebody's else's neck and arms rather than my own. I should be so -embarrassed by them that even if I owned them I should never use them." -</p> -<p> -"And you take no account whatever of the pleasure of owning them?" -queried the bandit, amazed at the result of his experiment. -</p> -<p> -"To own things for which one has no use seems to me a very embarrassing -thing," said she; "and I cannot understand one's burdening one's life -with such gew-gaws, unless they are given to one as a sacred trust." -</p> -<p> -"And yet you wear a very beautiful ring!" said the Piccinino, kissing -her hand. -</p> -<p> -"Oh! monsignor," said the girl, withdrawing her hand with an offended -air, "are you worthy to kiss that ring? Forgive me for speaking to you -so, but it is not mine, as you see, and I must return it to Princess -Agatha to-night; she sent me to the jeweller's to get it." -</p> -<p> -"I will wager," said the Piccinino, scrutinizing Mila with distrust and -suspicion, "that Princess Agatha overwhelms you with presents, and that -that is the reason why you despise mine!" -</p> -<p> -"I despise nothing and nobody," replied Mila; "and when Princess Agatha -drops an embroidery needle or a bit of silk, I pick them up and treasure -them as relics. But if she should attempt to overwhelm me with handsome -presents, I should beg her to keep them for those who need them. But I -must tell the truth: she once gave me a beautiful locket in which I -carry some of my brother's hair. But I keep it out of sight, for I do -not care to wear any ornaments unsuited to my station in life." -</p> -<p> -"Tell me, Mila," rejoined the Piccinino, after a moment's silence, "you -are no longer afraid, are you?" -</p> -<p> -"No, my lord," she replied, confidently; "when I saw you on the road, -near this house, my fear left me. Before that I confess that I was -trembling all over, that I fancied that I saw that horrid abbé's face -behind every bush, and that I don't quite know how I ever got here. When -I saw how far good Bianca was carrying me, when I finally spied this -tower and these trees, I said to myself: 'Great God! suppose my -protector was unable to come! suppose that wicked abbé, who is capable of -anything, has had him arrested by the <i>campieri</i>, or murdered on the -road, what will become of me?' Then I was terrified, not only on my own -account, but because I look on you as our guardian angel, and because it -seems to me that your life is much more valuable than mine." -</p> -<p> -The Piccinino, who had felt very cold, and, as it were, displeased with -Mila ever since her arrival, felt a slight thrill of emotion, and took -his seat beside her on the tiger's skin. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap38"></a>XXXVIII -<br><br> -A COUP DE MAIN</h4> - -<p> -"So you really feel a little sincere interest in me, do you, my child?" -he said, fastening upon her that dangerous glance of which he well knew -the power. -</p> -<p> -"Sincere? yes, upon my soul!" replied the girl, "and I surely owe you -that much, after the interest you have displayed in my family." -</p> -<p> -"And do you think that your family has the same feeling that you have?" -</p> -<p> -"Why—how could it be otherwise? However, to tell the truth, no one -has ever mentioned you to me, and I do not know your secrets; they have -treated me like a tattling little girl; but you do me more justice, for -you see that I am not inquisitive, and that I do not even ask you who -you are." -</p> -<p> -"And have you no desire to know? Isn't this one way of asking me?" -</p> -<p> -"No, monsignor, I should not dare to ask you questions, and I prefer not -to know what my father has thought best not to tell me. I feel very -proud to work with you to ensure their safety, without trying to remove -the bandage with which they have covered my eyes." -</p> -<p> -"That is very noble of you, Mila," said the Piccinino, beginning to feel -somewhat piqued by the girl's perfect tranquillity; "it is too noble, -perhaps!" -</p> -<p> -"Why and how is it noble?" -</p> -<p> -"Because you run great risks with unexampled imprudence." -</p> -<p> -"What risks, monsignor? did you not promise me before God that you would -protect me from all danger?" -</p> -<p> -"So far as that vile monk is concerned, I promise you on my life. But -have you no suspicion of other people?" -</p> -<p> -"Yes, I have," said Mila, after a moment's reflection. "You mentioned at -the fountain a name that frightened me terribly. You spoke as if you had -some relations with the Piccinino. But you said to me again after that: -'Come without fear,' and I came. Not without fear, I admit, so long as I -was alone on the road. I fancy that I shall be afraid again when I go -away from here; but, as long as I am with you, I am not afraid of -anything; I feel very brave, and it seems to me that, if we were -attacked, I could help in defending ourselves." -</p> -<p> -"Even against the Piccinino?" -</p> -<p> -"Ah! I don't know about that. But, great heaven! is he likely to come -here?" -</p> -<p> -"If he should come, it would be to punish the monk and protect you. Why -in heaven's name are you so terribly afraid of him?" -</p> -<p> -"Really, I don't know; but among us, when a girl goes out into the -country alone, people make sport of her and say: 'Look out for the -Piccinino!'" -</p> -<p> -"So you think that he murders young maids, do you?" -</p> -<p> -"Yes, monsignor; for they say that they never come back from the place -he takes them to; or, if they do come back, that it would have been -better for them to have stayed." -</p> -<p> -"And you hate him, I suppose?" -</p> -<p> -"No, I do not hate him, because they say that he inflicts much injury on -the Neapolitans, and that if people only had the courage to help him he -would do the country a great deal of good. But I am afraid of him, which -is not the same thing by any means." -</p> -<p> -"You have been told that he was very ugly, I suppose?" -</p> -<p> -"Yes, because he has a long beard, and I think that he must resemble the -monk I detest so. But isn't the monk coming? When he has come I can go -away, can I not, monsignor?" -</p> -<p> -"Are you in a hurry to go, Mila? do you find it so very unpleasant -here?" -</p> -<p> -"Oh! not at all; but I should be afraid to go home after dark." -</p> -<p> -"I will take you home." -</p> -<p> -"You are very good, monsignor; I ask nothing better, provided that -nobody sees us. But about this Abbé Ninfo, are you going to do him any -injury?" -</p> -<p> -"No injury. I presume that it would give you no pleasure to hear him -shriek?" -</p> -<p> -"God in heaven! I do not want to see or be the cause of any cruel -treatment of the man; but if the Piccinino comes here, I am terribly -afraid there will be bloodshed. You smile, monsignor," said Mila, -turning pale. "Oh! now I am afraid! Pray send me away as soon as the -abbé has set foot in the house." -</p> -<p> -"Mila, I swear to you that the abbé shall suffer no cruelty at my -hands. As soon as I have made sure of his person, the Piccinino will -come and take him away, a prisoner." -</p> -<p> -"And is all this done by the Princess Agatha's orders?" -</p> -<p> -"You ought to know." -</p> -<p> -"In that case, my mind is at ease. She would not desire the death of the -lowest of men." -</p> -<p> -"You are very compassionate, Mila; I thought that you were stronger and -prouder. So you would not have the courage to kill that man if he should -come here and insult you?" -</p> -<p> -"Excuse me, monsignor," rejoined Mila, taking from her bosom a dagger -which the princess had given to Magnani the day before, and of which she -had succeeded in gaining possession without his knowledge: "I could not -see a man killed in cold blood without fainting, I think; but if I were -insulted, I think that my anger would carry me a long way." -</p> -<p> -"So you prepared for war, did you, Mila? You had no confidence in me, I -see." -</p> -<p> -"As in God, monsignor; but God is everywhere, and some unforeseen -accident might have prevented you from being here." -</p> -<p> -"Do you know that it was very brave in you to come, Mila? and that if -people knew it——" -</p> -<p> -"Well, my lord?" -</p> -<p> -"Instead of admiring your heroism, they would blame your rashness." -</p> -<p> -"There is one thing I know very well," said Mila, with a sort of playful -excitement, "and that is that, if people knew of my being closeted here -with you, I should be lost." -</p> -<p> -"Doubtless! Slander——" -</p> -<p> -"Slander and calumny! Half as much would be enough to cause a young girl -to be cried down and degraded forever." -</p> -<p> -"And you felt sure that this expedition of yours would be enveloped -forever in impenetrable mystery?" -</p> -<p> -"I relied upon your prudence, and I left the rest in God's hands. I know -very well that there are many risks to run; but did you not tell me that -it was a question of saving my father's life and the Princess Agatha's -honor?" -</p> -<p> -"And you carried your devotion to the point of endangering your own -honor, without regret?" -</p> -<p> -"Endangering it in public opinion? I prefer that to allowing those whom -I love to be killed and dishonored. As between them and myself, isn't it -better that I should be the victim? But what does all this mean, -monsignor? You speak to me in a very strange way; one would think that -you were rebuking me for believing in you and for doing what you advised -me to do." -</p> -<p> -"No, Mila, I am questioning you. Forgive me for trying to understand you -and know you, so that I may esteem you as much as you deserve." -</p> -<p> -"Very good; I will answer you frankly." -</p> -<p> -"Well, my child, tell me everything. Did it not occur to you that I -might be setting a trap for you, and be luring you hither to insult you, -or, at least, to try to seduce you?" -</p> -<p> -Mila looked the Piccinino in the face, trying to discover what could -possibly induce him to put forward such a supposition. If it was a -method of testing her, she considered it insulting; if it was a jest, -she considered it in very bad taste on the part of one who seemed to be -a man of superior intellect and of exalted rank. This was the decisive -moment for her and for him. If she had felt the slightest fear—and -she was not the woman to conceal it, like Princess Agatha—the -Piccinino would have grown bolder; for he knew that fear is the -beginning of weakness. But she looked him in the face with such frank -fearlessness, and with so brave an air of displeasure, that he was -convinced at last that he was dealing with a really strong and sincere -character; and thereafter he had not the slightest desire to open -hostilities. He felt that a battle of ruses with so straightforward a -creature could have no other result for him than shame or remorse. -</p> -<p> -"Well, my child," he said, giving her hand a frank and friendly -pressure, "I see that you had a confidence in me which does honor to us -both. Will you permit me to ask you one more question? Have you a -lover?" -</p> -<p> -"A lover? no, monsignor," replied Mila, blushing crimson; but she added, -without hesitation: "I may tell you, however, that there is a man whom I -love." -</p> -<p> -"Where is he now?" -</p> -<p> -"In Catania." -</p> -<p> -"Is he rich—well-born?" -</p> -<p> -"He has a noble heart and two stout arms." -</p> -<p> -"And he loves you as you deserve to be loved?" -</p> -<p> -"That does not concern you, monsignor; I will not answer that question." -</p> -<p> -"However, you came here at the risk of losing his love?" -</p> -<p> -"As you see, alas!" said Mila, with a sigh. -</p> -<p> -"O women! are you really so much nobler than we men?" exclaimed the -Piccinino, rising. But he had no sooner glanced out of doors than he -took Mila by the hand. -</p> -<p> -"Here's the abbé!" he said; "follow me. Why do you tremble so?" -</p> -<p> -"Not with fear," she replied, "but with disgust and displeasure; but I -will follow you." -</p> -<p> -They went down to the garden. -</p> -<p> -"You will not leave me alone with him a single minute, will you?" said -Mila, as they left the house: "if he should so much as kiss my hand, I -should be forced to burn the place with a red-hot iron." -</p> -<p> -"And I should be forced to kill him," rejoined the Piccinino. -</p> -<p> -They walked under the arbor to an opening, where the Piccinino glided -behind the trellis, and so followed Mila to the garden gate. Emboldened -by his presence, she opened it and motioned to the abbé to enter. -</p> -<p> -"Are you alone?" he said, making haste to put aside his monk's frock and -show how gallantly he was arrayed in black—a veritable musk-laden -abbé. -</p> -<p> -She made no other reply than: "Come in quickly." No sooner had she -secured the gate than the Piccinino made his appearance, and never was -there a more disappointed face than Abbé Ninfo's. "Excuse me, -monsignor," said the Piccinino, assuming an air of simplicity which -surprised his companion; "I learned from my cousin Mila that you wished -to see my poor garden, and I determined to admit you myself. Excuse me, -it is only a peasant's garden, but the fruit trees are so old and so -fine that people come from all directions to see them. Unluckily, I have -an engagement, and I must go away in five minutes; but my cousin has -promised to do the honors of the house, and I will retire, with your -lordship's permission, as soon as I have offered you some wine and -fruit." -</p> -<p> -"Do not put yourself out, my good man!" replied the abbé, reassured by -this speech. "Go about your business, and do not stand on ceremony. Go, -go at once, I say, I do not propose to incommode you." -</p> -<p> -"I will go as soon as I can see you at table. Lord God! you will die of -the heat. Our roads are so rough! Come to the house; I will pour the -first glass for you, and then I will go, as your lordship kindly permits -me to do so." -</p> -<p> -"My cousin will not go away until you are in the house," said Mila, in -obedience to a meaning glance from the Piccinino. -</p> -<p> -The abbé, seeing that he could not get rid of his obsequious host -except by complying with his wish, passed through the arbor without an -opportunity to address a word or a glance to Mila; for the Piccinino, -still playing the part of a respectful peasant and zealous host, walked -between them. The abbé was ushered into a cool, dark room, where a -collation was served. But, as they entered, the Piccinino said in Mila's -ear: "Let me fill your glass, but do not so much as smell it." -</p> -<p> -A topaz-hued muscatel glistened in a large decanter which stood in a -terra-cotta vessel filled with cold water. The abbé, who was somewhat -disturbed by the peasant's presence, emptied at a single draught, -without hesitation, the glass that was offered him. -</p> -<p> -"Now," he said, "off with you at once, my boy! I should never forgive -myself for having caused you to break your engagement." -</p> -<p> -"Come with me, Mila," said the Piccinino. "You must lock the gate after -me, for, if it should be left open, even for a moment, the children -would come in and steal my peaches." -</p> -<p> -Mila did not wait to be asked twice to hurry after the Piccinino; but he -went no farther than the door of the room, and when he had closed it -behind him, he put his finger on his lips, and, applying his eye to the -keyhole, remained absolutely motionless. After two or three minutes he -rose, saying aloud: "It is all over!" And he threw the door wide open. -</p> -<p> -Mila saw the abbé lying on the floor, with a purple face, and breathing -heavily. -</p> -<p> -"Oh! my God!" she cried, "have you poisoned him, monsignor?" -</p> -<p> -"No, indeed," replied Carmelo; "for we need a few words from him later. -He is only asleep, the dear man, but very sound asleep!" -</p> -<p> -"Oh! do not speak so loud, monsignor: he sees us and hears us! His eyes -are open and staring at us." -</p> -<p> -"And yet he doesn't know who we are, he has no comprehension of -anything. What good does it do him to see and hear, when nothing conveys -any meaning to his poor brain? Do not come near, Mila, if the paralyzed -viper still frightens you; for my part, I must study the effects of this -narcotic a little. They vary in different individuals." -</p> -<p> -He walked calmly to the abbé's side, while Mila, completely bewildered, -remained in the doorway and watched him with dismay. He touched his -victim as the wolf sniffs before devouring. He made sure that the head -and hands passed speedily from intense heat to icy cold, that the face -lost its flush, that the respiration became regular and weak. -</p> -<p> -"This is a good result," he said, as if speaking to himself; "and such a -weak dose! I am well satisfied with the experiment. This is very -preferable to blows, a struggle, shrieks stifled by a gag, isn't it, -Mila? A woman can look on at this sort of thing without an attack of -hysterics. This is the sort of method I like, and if it were well known, -nobody would use any other. But you must never mention it, Mila, do you -hear? for it might easily be abused, and no one, you see, no one could -protect himself against it. If I had chosen to put you to sleep like -this, it was entirely in my power to do it. Would you take a glass of -water from my hand now, if I should offer it to you?" -</p> -<p> -"Yes, monsignor, I would accept it," replied Mila, taking this challenge -for a jest.—"He jests on all subjects," she said to herself. "He has -a satirical bent like Michel." -</p> -<p> -"So you would be no more suspicious than this poor abbé?" continued the -Piccinino, in a preoccupied tone; for he was busily searching his -sleeper, with perfect self-possession. -</p> -<p> -"You forbade me even to smell that wine," replied Mila; "so you -evidently had no purpose to play me a trick!" -</p> -<p> -"Ah! here it is!" muttered the bandit, taking a wallet from the abbé's -pocket. "Don't be impatient, Mila; I must examine this." -</p> -<p> -Seating himself at the table, he opened the wallet and took therefrom -divers papers, over which he cast his eye with tranquil celerity. -</p> -<p> -"A report against Marc-Antonio Ferrara!—an obscure man; doubtless -some husband whose wife he wished to seduce! Here, Mila, here is my -flint and steel. Will you light the lamp and burn this? This -Marc-Antonio will never suspect that your fair hand saved him from -imprisonment. -</p> -<p> -"And this? Ah! this is more important; an anonymous warning, addressed -to the captain of the city, that the Marquis della Serra is planning a -conspiracy against the government! The dear abbé proposed to get rid of -the princess's cicisbeo, or to give him something to think about at all -events! The idiot! he doesn't even know enough to disguise his -handwriting! Burn it up, Mila; it shall not go to its address. -</p> -<p> -"Another warning!" continued the Piccinino, still examining the wallet. -"The wretch! he proposed to have the gallant champion arrested who -brought him into relation with the Piccinino! This is worth saving. -Malacarne will see that he did well not to trust this hound's promises, -and that he would have been well punished for not reporting to his -chief. -</p> -<p> -"I am surprised to find nothing against your father, Mila. Ah! yes, here -it is! The signor abbé's measures were all taken to strike his great -blow. This evening Pier-Angelo Lavoratori and—Fra Angelo -too!—Ah! you reckoned without your host, my friend! You did not -know that the Piccinino will never allow a finger to be laid on that -shaven head! How ill-informed you were! Why, Mila, this man, whom people -look upon as a monster of iniquity, is nothing but an idiot, upon my -word!" -</p> -<p> -"Of what did he accuse my father and my uncle?" -</p> -<p> -"Of conspiring—always the same refrain; it is so worn out! There -is one thing that surprises me, and that is that the police continue to -pay any attention to this venerable nonsense. The police are as stupid -as the people who set them on." -</p> -<p> -"Give me that, give me that, and I will burn it with right good will!" -cried Mila. -</p> -<p> -"Here's another! Who is—Antonio Magnani?" -</p> -<p> -Mila did not answer. She put out her hand so eagerly to seize and burn -this last denunciation, that the Piccinino turned and saw that her -cheeks were suffused with a sudden flush. -</p> -<p> -"I understand," he said, giving her the paper. "But he ought to have -forwarded this denunciation before venturing to pay court to you. Always -too late, always beside the mark, poor man!" -</p> -<p> -He opened and ran through several other papers which mentioned none but -unknown names, and which Mila burned without looking at them. But -suddenly he started and exclaimed: -</p> -<p> -"Can it be? This in his hands? Good! I did not believe you capable of -making this capture. Excuse me, my dear abbé," he continued, putting in -his pocket a paper much more bulky than the others, with an ironical bow -to the miserable wretch lying at his feet, his mouth half-open and his -eye glassy and lifeless. "I honor you with my esteem to a certain point. -Really, I did not believe you capable of it!" -</p> -<p> -Ninfo's eyes seemed to rekindle. He tried to move, and there was a sort -of rattle in his throat. -</p> -<p> -"Ah! have we reached that stage?" said the Piccinino, putting the mouth -of the decanter of narcotized wine to his lips. -</p> -<p> -"Did that wake you up? You set more store by that than by the fair Mila, -eh? In that case, you should have let love-making go, and should not -have come here instead of attending to your business! Sleep, I pray you, -your excellency, for if you understand what is going on, you will have -to die!" -</p> -<p> -The abbé fell back upon the floor; his vitreous stare remained fastened -like that of a dead man on the Piccinino's ironical face. -</p> -<p> -"He needs rest," said the latter to Mila, with a cruel smile; "let us -not disturb him any more." -</p> -<p> -He secured the stout shutters at the windows with heavy padlocked iron -bars, and left the room with Mila, locking the door and putting the key -in his pocket. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap39"></a>XXXIX -<br><br> -AN IDYLL</h4> - -<p> -The Piccinino returned with his young companion to the garden, and, -having suddenly become pensive, sat down upon a bench and apparently -forgot her presence. And yet he was thinking of her, and this is what he -was saying to himself: -</p> -<p> -"Would it not be an idiotic performance to allow this lovely creature to -go hence as calm and serene as she came? Yes, it would be an idiotic -performance for a man who was resolved upon her ruin; but I simply -wished to test the power of my glance and my voice to lure her into my -cage, like a beautiful bird whom one likes to examine close at hand, and -to whom one then restores its liberty, because one does not wish it to -die. There is always a touch of hatred in the violent desires a woman -arouses in us."—The Piccinino is still musing and meditating upon -his impressions.—"For victory, in such cases, is a matter of -pride, and it is impossible to fight, even in play, without a little -temper.—But there is no more of hatred than of anger or desire in -the feeling this child arouses in me. It does not even occur to her to -be coquettish with me. She is not afraid of me; she looks me in the face -without blushing; she is not agitated in my presence. If I abuse her -isolation and her weakness, she will defend herself badly perhaps, but -she will go away from here all in tears, and it may be will kill -herself—for there are some who kill themselves.—At all -events she will detest the thought of me and blush to have belonged to -me. Now, a man like myself cannot afford to be despised. Women who do -not know him must fear him; they who do know him must esteem him or love -him; they who have known him must regret him. To be sure, there is, on -the border-line between presumption and violence, an infinite enjoyment, -a complete consciousness of victory; but that is so on the border-line -only: a hair's-breadth beyond, and it is all bestiality and brutality. -The moment that a woman can accuse you of having resorted to force, she -resumes her sway, although conquered, and you risk becoming her slave -because you have been her master against her will. I have heard that -there was something of that sort in my father's life, although Fra -Angelo would never tell me anything definite about it. But everybody -knows that my father lacked patience and that he drank heavily. Those -were the failings of his time. We are more civilized and more adroit -to-day. More moral? no, but more refined, and, consequently, more -irresistible. Would there be much skill or much merit involved in -obtaining from this girl what she has not as yet accorded her lover? She -is so trustful that the first half of the road would be easy enough. -Indeed, I have already gone halfway. She was fascinated by my air of -chivalrous virtue. She came here, she entered my house, she sat by my -side. But the other half is not simply difficult; it is impossible. I -could never make her desire to struggle with me; it would never occur to -her to yield in order to obtain. If she were mine, I would dress her as -a boy and take her with me hunting. At need she would hunt the -Neapolitan as she has hunted the abbé to-day. She would soon be -hardened. I should love her as a page; I should not look upon her as a -woman at all." -</p> -<p> -"Well, monsignor," said Mila, a little annoyed by her host's long -silence, "are you waiting for the Piccinino to come? Can I not go away -now?" -</p> -<p> -"Do you want to go?" replied the Piccinino, looking at her with a -distraught air. -</p> -<p> -"Why not? You managed the affair so quickly that it is still early, and -I can return alone by daylight. I shall not be afraid now that I know -where the abbé is, and that he is incapable of coming after me." -</p> -<p> -"Wouldn't you like me to escort you, at least as far as Bel-Passo?" -</p> -<p> -"It seems to me quite unnecessary for you to put yourself out." -</p> -<p> -"Very well, go, Mila; you are free, since you are in such haste to leave -me, and are so uncomfortable in my company." -</p> -<p> -"No, signor, do not say that," replied the girl, artlessly. "I am highly -honored to be with you, and if it were not for the danger, which you -realize, of being spied upon and falsely accused, I should enjoy staying -with you; for it seems to me that you are sad, and I might at least -divert your thoughts. Sometimes Princess Agatha is sad too, and when I -would leave her alone, she says to me: 'Stay with me, little Mila; even -if we don't speak, your presence does me good.'" -</p> -<p> -"Princess Agatha is sad sometimes? Do you know the reason?" -</p> -<p> -"No; but I have an idea that she is bored to death." -</p> -<p> -Thereupon the Piccinino asked many questions, which Mila answered with -her usual ingenuousness, but neither would nor could tell him anything -more than he had already heard; that is to say, that she lived a -virtuous, retired life, that she was very charitable, that she read a -great deal, that she loved the arts, and that she was gentle and placid, -almost to the point of apathy, in her external relations. But the -unsuspecting Mila added that she was sure that her dear princess was -more ardent and self-sacrificing in her affections than people thought; -that she had often known her to be moved to tears by the story of some -misfortune, or even by some touchingly simple anecdote. -</p> -<p> -"For instance?" said the Piccinino; "give me an example." -</p> -<p> -"Very well," said Mila; "one day I told her that there was a time when -we were very poor in Rome. I was only five or six years old then, and as -we had almost nothing to eat, I used sometimes to tell my brother Michel -that I was not hungry, so that he would eat my share. But Michel, -suspecting my motive, began to say that he was not hungry either; so -that we often kept our bread over night, neither of us being willing to -admit that we longed to eat it. And the result of that performance was -that we made ourselves more unhappy than we really were. I told the -princess this laughingly; suddenly she burst into tears and pressed me -to her heart, saying: 'Poor children! poor dear children!'—Tell me, -signor, if that shows the cold heart and dull mind that people say she -has?" -</p> -<p> -The Piccinino took Mila's arm in his and walked about the garden with -her, leading her on to talk of the princess. His imagination was -engrossed by that woman who had made so deep an impression on him, and -he entirely forgot that Mila had occupied his thoughts and disturbed his -senses during a part of the day. -</p> -<p> -Honest Mila, still convinced that she was talking to a sincere friend, -abandoned herself to the pleasure of praising the woman whom she loved -with enthusiasm, and <i>forgot that she was forgetting herself</i>, as she -expressed it, after walking about for an hour under the magnificent -trees in the garden at Nicolosi. -</p> -<p> -The Piccinino had an impressionable brain and a fickle humor. His whole -life was a constant alternation of meditation and curiosity. The simple -and graceful conversation of Mila, her kindly thoughts, the generous -outflow of her affections, and an indefinable touch of grandeur of soul, -courage, and cheeriness of temperament, which she inherited from her -father and uncle, gradually fascinated the brigand. New horizons opened -before him, as if he were passing from the contemplation of a painful -and fatiguing drama to that of a placid and lightsome idyll. He was too -intelligent not to understand everything, even those things which were -most opposed to his instincts and habits. He had devoured Byron's poems. -In his dreams he had raised himself to the level of Don Juan and Lara; -but he had read Petrarch too, and knew him by heart; indeed he had -smiled instead of yawning, as he murmured to himself the <i>concetti</i> of -<i>Aminta</i> and the <i>Pastor Fido</i>. He felt soothed by his frank -converse with little Mila, even more than he ordinarily was when he -resorted to that sentimental nonsense to allay the tempests of his -passions. -</p> -<p> -But at last the sun began to sink. Mila thought of Magnani, and asked -leave to go. -</p> -<p> -"Very well, <i>addio</i>, my sweet Mila," said the Piccinino; "but as we -walk back to the garden gate I propose to do for you in all seriousness -what I have never done for any woman, except from some selfish motive or -in mockery." -</p> -<p> -"What is that, monsignor?" queried Mila, in amazement. -</p> -<p> -"I propose to pluck a bouquet for you, a virginal bouquet, from the -flowers in my garden," he answered, with a smile, in which, if there was -a suspicion of mockery, it was directed at himself alone. -</p> -<p> -To Mila this attention seemed much less surprising than it seemed to the -Piccinino. He plucked with care white roses, myrtle, and orange -blossoms; he picked the thorns from the roses; he selected the finest -flowers; and with more taste and skill than he would have given himself -credit for, he made a superb bouquet for his amiable guest. -</p> -<p> -"Ah!" he said as he presented it to her, "we must not forget the -cyclamen. There must be some among this grass. No, no, Mila, do not -look; I want to pick them myself, so that the princess may enjoy -inhaling the perfume of my bouquet. For you must tell her that it comes -from me, and that it was the only attention which I ventured to offer -you, after a tête-à-tête of two hours in my house." -</p> -<p> -"Then you do not forbid me to tell Princess Agatha that I have been -here?" -</p> -<p> -"You must tell her, Mila. You must tell her everything. But her alone, -do you understand? Swear it on your salvation, for you believe in that, -do you not?" -</p> -<p> -"Why, do not you believe in it, signor?" -</p> -<p> -"I believe that I have earned the right to go to Paradise to-day, if I -should die at once; for my heart is as pure as a little child's since -you have been with me." -</p> -<p> -"But, suppose the princess asks me who you are, monsignor, and whom I am -talking about—how shall I describe you so that she may know?" -</p> -<p> -"You will tell her what I wish you also to know, Mila. But perhaps there -will be times hereafter when my face and my name will no longer be in -accord. Then you must hold your peace, and, at need, pretend that you -never saw me, for with a word you could cause my death." -</p> -<p> -"God forbid!" cried Mila, effusively. "Ah! monsignor, rely on my -prudence and my discretion as if my life were bound to yours!" -</p> -<p> -"Very well; say to the princess that it was Carmelo Tomabene who rescued -you from Abbé Ninfo, and who kissed your hand as respectfully as he -would kiss her own." -</p> -<p> -"It is for me to kiss your hand, monsignor," replied the guileless -child, putting the brigand's hand to her lips, firmly persuaded that it -was at least a king's son who treated her with such condescending -courtesy; "for you are deceiving me," she continued. "Carmelo Tomabene -is a <i>villano</i>, and this house is no more yours than his name is. You -might live in a palace, if you chose, but you disguise yourself for -political reasons which I ought not to know, and do not wish to. I have -an idea that you will be King of Sicily some day. Ah! how I would like -to be a man and fight for your cause! for you will bring about the -happiness of your people, I am sure of it!" -</p> -<p> -Mila's jesting extravagance caused a momentary madness in the brigand's -audacious brain. He had a touch of vertigo, and felt almost the same -emotion as if she had guessed the truth instead of dreaming a dream. But -instantly he laughed an almost bitter laugh, which did not dispel Mila's -illusions. She thought that it was an attempt to banish her rash -suspicions, and she frankly asked his forgiveness for the words that had -escaped her. -</p> -<p> -"My child," he replied, kissing her on the brow and assisting her to -mount the white mule, "Princess Agatha will tell you who I am. I -authorize you to ask her; but, when you find out, remember that you are -my accomplice, or that you must send me to the gallows." -</p> -<p> -"I would rather go myself!" said Mila, as she rode away, calling his -attention to the respectful kiss she bestowed upon his bouquet. -</p> -<p> -"Well!" said the Piccinino to himself, "this has been the pleasantest -and most romantic adventure of my whole life. I have played the part of -a king in disguise, without showing it, without taking the trouble to -prepare for it, without making any arrangements to afford myself that -amusement. Unexpected pleasures are the only genuine ones, they say; I -begin to believe it. Perhaps it is because I have premeditated my -actions too much, and laid out my life beforehand too carefully, that I -have so often found ennui and distaste at the end of my undertakings. -Fascinating Mila! What a wealth of poesy, what freshness of the -imagination in your young brain! Oh! if only you were a youth of my own -sex! if I could keep you beside me without causing you to lose any of -your pleasant illusions and your blessed purity! I should find the sweet -companionship of a wife in a faithful comrade, without danger of -arousing or feeling the passion which poisons and destroys all -friendships! But such mortals do not exist. Woman cannot fail to be -treacherous; man cannot cease to be brutal. Ah! I always have -missed—I always shall miss—the being able to love some one. -I should have had to fall in with a mind different from all other minds -and even more different from my own—which is impossible! -</p> -<p> -"Am I then an exceptional character?" he asked himself, following with -his eyes the prints of Mila's little feet on the gravelled paths of his -garden. "It seems to me that I am, when I compare myself with the -mountaineers with whom I am compelled to live, and with these bandits -whose leader I am. I have more than one brother among them, so it is -said. The fact that they have none of my qualities, makes it impossible -for me to believe it. The passions which serve as a bond between us -differ as much as our features and our bodily strength. They desire -booty in order to convert into money everything that is not money; and I -care for nothing which is not of value by reason of its beauty or its -rarity. What they succeed in obtaining they hoard because they are -miserly; I use it sparingly, so that I may be able to bear myself -royally with them on occasion, and extend my power and influence over -everyone about me. -</p> -<p> -"Thus gold is to me only a means, while to them it is the end. They love -women as chattels, and I, alas! would fain be able to love them as human -beings! They are intoxicated with delight by acts of violence which make -me sick at heart, and by which I should be humiliated, knowing that I -have the power to please, and having never been compelled to force -myself upon anyone. No, no! they are no brothers of mine; if they are -the <i>Destatore's</i> sons, they are the offspring of wild dissipation and -of his years of moral decadence. I am the son of Castro-Reale; I was -conceived on a day when his mind was lucid. My mother was not violated -like the rest. She abandoned herself to him willingly, and I am the -fruit of the intercourse of two free hearts, who did not give me life -against their wills. -</p> -<p> -"But, in that world which is called society, and which I call the legal -community, are there not many persons of both sexes with whom I could -enter into relations, and so escape this ghastly solitude of my -thoughts? Are there not men of intelligence, endowed with keen -perception, whose friend I might be? Are there not many women, proud and -adroit, whose lover I might be, without being compelled to laugh at the -pains I had taken to overcome them? In a word, am I doomed never to find -emotion of any sort in this life which I embraced as being most fruitful -in violent emotions? Shall I always be obliged to expend endless stores -of imaginative power and of tact, in order to succeed in pillaging a -vessel on the coast or a party of travellers in the gorges of the -mountain? And all to obtain a multitude of petty trinkets, a little -money, and the hearts of a few Englishwomen, ugly or half-mad, who adore -adventures with brigands as a remedy for the spleen! -</p> -<p> -"But I have closed to myself forever that world where I might find my -equals and my fellows. I can enter only through the secret doors of -intrigue, and, if I wish to appear there in broad daylight, I can do it -only on condition of being followed by the mystery of my past, that is -to say, by a sentence of death always hanging over my head. Shall I -leave the country? It is the only country where the trade of bandit is -more perilous than dishonorable. Anywhere else I shall be asked for -proof that I have always lived in legitimate society; and if I cannot -furnish it I shall be classed with the most degraded creatures who -wallow in the sloughs of their pretended civilization! -</p> -<p> -"O Mila! how completely you have filled with grief and dismay this heart -upon which you have shed a ray of your sunlight!" -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap40"></a>XL -<br><br> -DECEPTION</h4> - -<p> -Thus did that man, so ill-placed in life if we compare his intellectual -powers with his social position, torture himself with vain reflections. -Mental culture, which was his greatest enjoyment, was also his torment. -Having read everything that fell into his hands, without method and -without selection, and allowing himself to be impressed by everything in -turn, he was as learned in evil as in good, and he was insensibly -drawing near that scepticism which no longer believes absolutely in -either good or evil. -</p> -<p> -He returned to his house to take certain precautions with respect to -Abbé Ninfo, so that, if the unexpected should happen, and his domicile -be invaded, there should be no traces of violence. He put the narcotized -wine out of sight, and filled the decanter with unadulterated wine, in -order that he might safely pretend to experiment upon himself at need. -He placed the abbé on a couch, extinguished the lamp, and swept up the -ashes of the papers Mila had destroyed. No one ever entered his house in -his absence. He had no regular servants, and the spotless neatness which -he himself maintained did not cost him much trouble, for he occupied -only a few rooms, and even those few he did not enter every day. He -worked in his garden, in his leisure moments, to keep himself in -condition, and to be consistent with his assumed rôle of peasant. He -had himself applied to all the issues of his abode a simple but -substantial system of fastening, calculated to resist for a long time -any attempt to force an entrance. Finally, he released two enormous and -savage mountain dogs, fierce beasts who knew nobody but him, and who -would infallibly have strangled the prisoner if he had tried to escape. -</p> -<p> -Having taken these precautions, the Piccinino washed and perfumed -himself, and, before going down to the city, showed himself in the -village of Nicolosi, where he was highly esteemed by all the people. He -conversed in Latin with the priest, under the vine-clad arbor of the -vicarage. He exchanged sly jests with the pretty girls of the village, -who ogled him from their doorsteps. He held several consultations on -agriculture and general affairs with men of sense who appreciated his -intelligence and his extensive knowledge. As he left the village he fell in -with an officer of <i>campieri</i>, with whom he walked for some distance, -and who informed him that the Piccinino still succeeded in eluding the -pursuit of the police and the municipal brigade. -</p> -<p> -Mila, eager to tell all her secrets to the princess, and to avail -herself of the mysterious prince's permission to ascertain their -meaning, travelled as quickly as Bianca was able to descend those steep -and dangerous slopes. It did not occur to her to hold the mule back; she -was too deeply absorbed in her meditations. Persons of pure heart and -tranquil mind must have noticed that, when they communicate their mental -disposition to perturbed and agitated minds, their own serenity is -diminished in proportion. They give only at the price of running in debt -themselves to some extent; for confidence is a matter of exchange, and -there is no heart so richly endowed and so powerful that it does not -risk something in gratifying its beneficent impulses. -</p> -<p> -Gradually, however, pretty Mila's terror changed to joy. The Piccinino's -conversation had left an echo as of sweet music in her ears, and the -odor of his bouquet kept alive the illusion that she was still in that -rustic garden, under the shade of the black fig-trees and pistacias, -walking upon carpets of moss strewn with mallow, orchids and fraxinella, -sometimes catching her veil on the aloes and the twigs of the thorny -smilax, from which her host quickly detached it with respectful -courtesy. Mila had the simple tastes of her class, added to the tendency -to romance and poesy born of her intelligence. If the marble fountains -and statues of Villa Palmarosa appealed to her imagination, the -vine-clad arbors and wild apple-trees of Carmelo's garden spoke more -loudly to her heart. She had already forgotten the bandit's oriental -boudoir; she had not felt at her ease there as she had under the arbor. -He had been cold and satirical almost all the time in the boudoir, -whereas, among the flowering shrubs and beside the silvery spring, he -had displayed an artless mind and a tender heart. -</p> -<p> -How did it happen that this girl, who had just seen such strange and -distressing things, a queen's boudoir in the house of a peasant, and the -ghastly scene of Abbé Ninfo's lethargy, no longer remembered what must -have impressed her imagination so profoundly? Her surprise and her -fright had vanished like a dream, and her mind was engrossed by the -final tableau, fresh and unsullied, where she saw naught but flowers, -greenswards, birds chattering among the leaves, and a handsome young man -who guided her through that enchanted labyrinth, conversing with her in -chaste and charming language. -</p> -<p> -When Mila had passed the <i>Destatore's</i> cross, she dismounted, as -Carmelo had advised her to do, as a measure of prudence. She fastened -the reins to the saddle-bow and waved a switch about Bianca's ears. The -intelligent beast started back at a gallop toward Nicolosi, needing no -guidance to return to her stable. Mila continued her journey on foot, -avoiding the neighborhood of Bel-Passo; but, by a veritable fatality, -Fra Angelo happened to be returning just then from the Della Serra -palace to his convent by a by-path, so that Mila suddenly found herself -face to face with him. -</p> -<p> -The poor girl drew her <i>mantellina</i> about her and began to walk very -fast, as if she had not seen her uncle. -</p> -<p> -"Where have you been, Mila?" was the greeting which brought her to a -standstill, uttered as it was in a tone which admitted of no hesitation. -</p> -<p> -"Why! uncle," she replied, putting aside her veil, "I didn't see you; -the sun was in my eyes." -</p> -<p> -"Where have you been?" repeated the monk, not deigning to discuss the -probable truth of that reply. -</p> -<p> -"Well, uncle," said Mila, resolutely, "I will not tell you a lie; I saw -you plainly." -</p> -<p> -"I know it; but will you tell me where you have been?" -</p> -<p> -"I have been to the convent, uncle. I was looking for you, and, not -finding you, I was going back to the city." -</p> -<p> -"What was it that you were in such a hurry to say to me, my dear girl? -It must be very important, for you to dare to come out into the country -alone, contrary to your habit. Come, answer me! You say nothing! You -cannot lie, Mila!" -</p> -<p> -"Yes, uncle, yes! I came——" And she stopped short, completely -at a loss, for she had made no preparations for this meeting, and her wits -abandoned her. -</p> -<p> -"You are losing your head, Mila," rejoined the monk, "for I tell you -that you do not know how to lie, and you answer '<i>Yes!</i>' Thank heaven, -you don't know what you are saying! Do not try to lie, my child, but -tell me frankly where you have been." -</p> -<p> -"Well, uncle, I cannot tell you." -</p> -<p> -"Indeed!" cried Fra Angelo, with a frown. "I order you to tell me!" -</p> -<p> -"It is impossible, dear uncle, impossible," said Mila, hanging her head, -crimson with shame, and with her eyes filled with tears; for it was very -painful to her to see her excellent uncle angry with her for the first -time in her life. -</p> -<p> -"Then you wish me to believe that you have been doing either an insane -or a wicked thing!" -</p> -<p> -"Neither!" cried Mila, raising her head. "I call God to witness!" -</p> -<p> -"God!" repeated the monk, in a despairing tone. "How you pain me by -speaking so, Mila! Can you be capable of swearing a false oath?" -</p> -<p> -"No, uncle, no, never!" -</p> -<p> -"Lie to your uncle, if it seems best to you, but do not lie to God!" -</p> -<p> -"Am I in the habit of lying, I ask you, then?" exclaimed the girl, -proudly; "and ought I to be suspected by my uncle, the man who knows me -so well, and for whose esteem I care more than for my life?" -</p> -<p> -"In that case, speak!" rejoined Fra Angelo, grasping her wrist in a way -which he considered encouraging and paternal, but which bruised the -child's arm and extorted a cry of terror from her.—"Why this -fright, pray?" demanded the monk, in amazement. "Ah! you are guilty, -girl. You have just done—not anything sinful, I cannot believe -that—but some foolish thing or other, which is the first step on -the pathway of evil. If it were not so, you would not recoil from me in -terror; you would not have tried to hide your face when we met; above -all things, you would not have tried to lie! And now, as it is -impossible for you to have any innocent secret from me, you should not -refuse to explain your actions." -</p> -<p> -"But I tell you, uncle, that it is an entirely innocent secret, and -still it is impossible for me to tell you what it is. Do not ask me any -more questions. I would die before I would speak." -</p> -<p> -"At all events, Mila, promise me that you will tell your father this -secret which I may not know!" -</p> -<p> -"I cannot promise you that; but I swear that I will tell it to Princess -Agatha." -</p> -<p> -"I have the greatest esteem and veneration for Princess Agatha," replied -the monk, "but I know that women are excessively indulgent to one -another in the matter of certain errors of conduct, and that virtuous -women are the more tolerant because of their ignorance of evil. I do -not, therefore, like the idea of your seeking shelter against shame on -your friend's bosom, instead of explaining your conduct to your family, -with head erect. Go, Mila; I insist no farther, since you have withdrawn -your confidence from me; but I pity you because your heart is not pure -and calm this evening as it was this morning. I pity my brother, whose -pride and joy you were; I pity your brother, who will soon have to -answer for your conduct before the world, I doubt not, and who will have -plenty of trouble on his hands unless he chooses to allow you to be -insulted on his arm. Woe, woe to the men of a family, when the women, -who should watch over its honor as the Vestals watched over the sacred -fire, break the laws of prudence, modesty and truth!" -</p> -<p> -Fra Angelo passed on, leaving poor Mila, crushed by this malediction, -kneeling on the stones in the road, with bloodless cheeks and her bosom -heaving with sobs. -</p> -<p> -"Alas!" she said to herself, "until this moment it seemed to me that my -conduct was not only innocent, but brave and praiseworthy. Oh! how harsh -the laws of modest reserve and the necessity of an unsullied reputation -are for women, since, even when it is a question of saving the lives of -one's family, one must expect to be blamed by those whom one loves best! -Was it wrong for me to trust to the <i>prince's</i> promises? He may have -deceived me, it is true! But when his conduct has proved his honor and -his virtue, ought I to blame myself for believing in him? Was it not a -presentiment of the truth that led me toward him, and not mere foolish -and imprudent curiosity?" -</p> -<p> -She kept on down the mountain, but, as she walked, she questioned her -conscience severely, and some scruples awoke within her. Had she not -been impelled by pride to accomplish a difficult and perilous enterprise -of which no one would have believed her to be capable? Had she not -allowed herself to be influenced by the stranger's comeliness and charm -of manner, and would she have had equal confidence in an older and less -eloquent man? -</p> -<p> -"But what does it matter after all?" she said to herself. "What have I -done that is wrong, and what reproach could be brought against me if I -had been watched? I have run the risk of being misrepresented and -slandered, and that is certainly a fault when one does it from egotism -or a spirit of coquetry; but when one exposes oneself to danger to save -one's father and brother!—Princess Agatha will be my judge; she will -tell me whether I have done right or wrong, and whether she would have -acted as I did." -</p> -<p> -But imagine poor Mila's dismay, when, as soon as she began her story, -the princess interrupted her, saying: "O my child! it was the -Piccinino!" -</p> -<p> -Mila tried to struggle against the truth. She insisted that everybody -said that the Piccinino was short, thickset, awkwardly built, afflicted -with hideous ugliness, and that his face was darkened by bushy hair and -a beard; whereas the stranger's slight figure was so graceful and -refined, his manners so gracious and noble! -</p> -<p> -"My child," said the princess, "there is a false Piccinino who plays the -part of his chief with people of whom his chief is suspicious, and who -would play it, at need, before the police and magistrates, if he should -fall into their hands. He is a repulsive, savage creature, who enhances, -by the horror of his appearance, the terror inspired by the expeditions -of the band. But the real Piccinino, the one who styles himself the -<i>justicier d'aventure</i>, and who directs all the operations of the -brigands of the mountain; the man whom nobody knows and as to whom, if -he should be captured, it would be impossible to prove that he had ever -been the leader or a member of the band, is a handsome, well-educated, -eloquent, dissipated and cunning young man; the same Carmelo Tomabene -with whom you talked at the fountain." -</p> -<p> -Mila was so thunderstruck that she almost determined not to go on with -her story. How could she confess that she had been the dupe of a -hypocrite and had placed herself at the mercy of a libertine? She did -confess everything, however, with absolute sincerity, and, when she had -finished, began to weep afresh, thinking of the risks she had run, and -of the conjectures of which she would be the object if the Piccinino -should chance to boast of her visit. -</p> -<p> -But Agatha, who had trembled with apprehension more than once as she -listened, and who had resolved to reprove her for her imprudence, by -pointing out to her that the Piccinino was too adroit to have really -needed her assistance, was disarmed by her ingenuous grief, and embraced -her warmly to comfort her. What impressed her quite as deeply as the -rashness of the girl, was the physical and moral courage which had -inspired her, her determination to take her own life at the slightest -suggestion of outrage, and her unbounded devotion and her generous -confidence. She thanked her affectionately therefore, because she had -been guided in part by the desire to deliver her from an enemy; and -finally, when she was fully assured that Abbé Ninfo was really in the -<i>justicier's</i> power, she was so overcome by joy that she kissed little -Mila's hands, calling her her good fairy and her angel of salvation. -</p> -<p> -Mila being thus comforted and reconciled with herself, the princess, in -an outburst of childlike merriment, proposed to her that she should -change her dress to assist her to recover from the fatigue of her -expedition, and that then they should go and surprise her father and -brother at the marquis's villa. -</p> -<p> -"We will go on foot," she said, "for it is close by if we go by way of -the garden; and we will dine together first. Then we shall have the -darkness and cool breeze of early evening, and in addition a travelling -companion whom you do not expect perhaps, but whom you will not be sorry -to see, for he is a friend of yours." -</p> -<p> -"I wonder who it can be," said Mila, with a smile; she guessed shrewdly -enough, but with respect to her heart's secret, and to that alone, she -recovered all the prudence of the feminine mind. -</p> -<p> -The dinner and the preparations of the two friends occupied about an -hour; after which the maid came and whispered to the princess: "The -young man of last evening, at the end of the garden, by the eastern -gate." -</p> -<p> -"That is right," said the princess, leading Mila away; "that is our -road." And they hurried across the park, joyous and light of heart; for -both were born again to the hope of happiness. -</p> -<p> -Magnani was walking back and forth, melancholy and distraught, waiting -to be sent for to go to the palace, when two veiled women, issuing from -the clumps of myrtle and orange, ran to him, and grasping each an arm, -hurried him along with them without speaking. He recognized them -perfectly, the princess better than Mila, who seemed to him to be -dressed more elaborately than usual under her light cape; but he was too -deeply moved to speak, and he pretended to accept this gracious jest -gayly. A smile played about his lips, but his heart was troubled; and, -while he sought relief from the perturbation caused by Agatha's -presence, he derived but little assistance from feeling Mila's arm in -his. -</p> -<p> -As they passed into the marquis's park, the princess put aside her veil -and said to him: -</p> -<p> -"My dear friend, I intended to talk with you at my house; but my -impatience to announce some good news to our friends, who are visiting -the marquis, led me to bring you here with us. The whole evening belongs -to us, and I can talk with you here as well as elsewhere. But let us go -forward noiselessly; we are not expected and I want to surprise them." -</p> -<p> -The marquis and his guests, after conversing a long time, were still on -the terrace looking out upon the sea, where the horizon was ablaze with -the last rays of the sun, while the stars appeared one by one in the -zenith. Michel was listening with deep interest to the marquis, whose -conversation was instructive, albeit always affable and unaffected. What -was his surprise when, on raising his head, he saw three persons seated -about the table, laden with refreshments, which he had just left to walk -to the balustrade, and when, in those three persons, he recognized -Agatha, Mila, and Magnani! -</p> -<p> -At first he had no eyes except for Agatha, and hardly recognized his -sister and his friend. The princess was dressed, however, with the -utmost simplicity, in a dress of pearl-gray silk, with a -<i>guardaspalle</i> of black lace thrown over her head and shoulders. -She seemed to him a little less fresh and youthful than she had appeared -under the bright lights. But, in a moment, the charm of her manner, her -frank smile, her pure and sincere glance, made her seem even younger and -more attractive than on the first day. -</p> -<p> -"Are you surprised to see your dear daughter here?" she asked -Pier-Angelo. "But she told you, did she not, that she should not dine -alone? And you see! you left her at home, and like Cinderella, she -appears in the midst of the fête, resplendent in costume and beauty. As -for Master Magnani, he is the enchanter who attends her; but as we are -not dealing with Don Magnifico on this occasion, the enchanter will not -dazzle the father's eyes so that he will not recognize his cherished -daughter. Cinderella therefore can challenge the glances of all -present." -</p> -<p> -As she spoke Agatha raised Mila's veil, and disclosed her <i>radiant as a -sun</i>; such is the expression of the legend. -</p> -<p> -Michel looked at his sister. She was fairly beaming with confidence and -joy. The princess had arrayed her in a gown of bright pink silk, with -several strings of beautiful great pearls about her neck and arms. A -wreath of natural flowers, wonderfully beautiful and arranged with -consummate art, crowned her dark face without concealing the abundant -treasures of her hair. Her little feet were daintily shod, and her -pretty fingers opened and closed Agatha's splendid fan with as much -grace and dignity as any <i>marchesina</i>. She was a muse of the -Renaissance, a patrician maiden, and a lovely damsel of the South, -radiant with health, nobility, and poetic charm. -</p> -<p> -Agatha looked at her with an air of motherly pride, and smiled lovingly -as she talked of her in Pier-Angelo's ear. -</p> -<p> -Michel then turned his eyes upon Magnani. He was gazing alternately at -the modest princess and the lovely silk-spinner of the Catanian suburb -with extraordinary emotion. He was no better able than Michel to -understand the strange and bewildering dream in which he seemed to be -moving. But it is certain that he saw Mila only through a cloud of gold -and fire, which emanated from Agatha and was projected upon her young -friend as if by magic. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap41"></a>XLI -<br><br> -JEALOUSY AND GRATITUDE</h4> - -<p> -The princess led the marquis and Pier-Angelo aside to tell them that -Ninfo was in the Piccinino's hands, and that she had been so informed by -an eye-witness of his capture whom she was not at liberty to name. -</p> -<p> -More ices were brought, and the conversation was renewed. Despite -Magnani's perturbation and timidity, despite Michel's excitement and -preoccupation, the princess and the marquis speedily tranquillized the -two young men, thanks to the judicious courtesy and the great art of -being simple, which well-bred people possess when the foundation of -their character corresponds with the external charm due to exquisite -tact. Thus Agatha questioned Michel concerning subjects with which he -was familiar, and on which he felt deeply. The young artist was -overjoyed by her perfect comprehension of art, and he stored away in his -memory several far-reaching definitions which she let fall, her mode of -expressing herself was so simple and natural. When she spoke to him she -seemed to be consulting rather than instructing him, and her glance, -alight with penetrating sympathy, seemed to seek in Michel's eyes -confirmation of her own opinions and ideas. -</p> -<p> -Magnani understood all that was said, and, although he seldom ventured -to speak, it was easy to read on his intelligent face that none of the -ideas advanced were beyond the reach of his intellect. That young man -had unusual faculties which would never have been cultivated, perhaps, -but for his romantic passion. From the day that he first became enamored -of the princess he had constantly devoted a portion of his leisure to -reading and to the study of such works of art as he had been privileged -to see. He had employed his vacations—what mechanics call the <i>dead -season</i>—in travelling about Sicily on foot, viewing the treasures -of antiquity with which that island, so beautiful in itself, is thickly -strewn. While saying to himself that he was determined to remain humble -and obscure, and persuading himself that he had no desire to depart from -the rough simplicity of his class, he had been impelled by an -irresistible instinct to improve his mind. -</p> -<p> -The conversation having become general, was pleasant, unconstrained, and -even merry, thanks to Pier-Angelo's sallies and Mila's artless remarks. -But her artlessness was so touching that, far from wounding Michel's -self-esteem in the princess's presence, it displayed his young sister's -fifteen years to him in a new light. It is certain that he had paid too -little heed to the very great change which a year had caused in the -ideas of a girl of her age, when, thinking that he still had to do with -a heedless and timid child, he had undertaken to blast all the hopes of -her heart with a word. In every word that Mila said she manifested -immense progress in respect to intelligence and decision of character, -and the contrast between that development of her mind, and the -inexperience, innocence and simplicity of her heart, presented a -spectacle at once charming and affecting. The princess, with the -delicate tact which women alone possess, caused Mila's charm to stand -out in bolder relief by her replies, and neither Michel, nor Magnani, -nor Pier-Angelo himself, had ever before imagined how much enjoyment -might be derived from talking with that maiden. -</p> -<p> -The moon rose, silvery white, in the cloudless sky. Agatha suggested a -walk in the garden. They started together; but the princess soon -strolled away from the others with Magnani, whose arm she took -familiarly; and for half an hour they remained so far away from their -friends that they were often out of sight. -</p> -<p> -We will not divulge at this point what the princess had to say in -confidence to the young mechanic during that tête-à-tête, which -seemed to Michel so long and so extraordinary; indeed, we shall not -divulge it at all. The reader will divine it at the proper time. -</p> -<p> -But Michel was unable to form the faintest idea of it, and he was on the -rack. He ceased to listen to the marquis; he was much more inclined to -tease and contradict Mila. He laughed at her costume and picked flaws in -it under his breath, and almost made her cry; so that she finally -whispered to him: "Michel, you always were jealous, and you are jealous -at this moment." -</p> -<p> -"Jealous of what, pray?" he retorted bitterly; "of your pink dress and -your pearl necklace?" -</p> -<p> -"No," she said, "but of the princess's friendship for your friend and -her confidence in him. Oh! I remember how you used to sulk when we were -children, if mamma kissed me more than you." -</p> -<p> -When the princess and Magnani joined them again, Agatha seemed calm and -Magnani deeply moved. But his noble face was even graver than usual, and -Michel noticed that his manner had undergone a remarkable change. He no -longer seemed to be at all confused by Agatha's presence. When she spoke -to him, the reply no longer trembled on his lips; he no longer turned -his eyes away in dismay, and, instead of the terrible suffering he had -previously displayed, he was calm, attentive and thoughtful. They talked -a few moments longer, then the princess turned to go. The marquis -offered his carriage. She declined it. "I prefer to walk back through -the gardens as I came," she said; "and, as I must have an escort, -although we no longer have any enemies to fear, I will take -Michelangelo's arm—unless he refuses!"—she added, with a quiet -smile, observing the young man's confusion. -</p> -<p> -Michel could find no words for a reply; he bowed and offered her his -arm. An hour earlier he would have been beside himself with joy. Now it -wounded his pride to receive in public a favor which Magnani had -received privately and as it were in secret. -</p> -<p> -Pier-Angelo took his leave with his daughter, to whom Magnani did not -offer his arm. So much ceremonious courtesy was not in his line. He -affected to be ignorant of the rules of politeness because he detested -imitation, but in reality his manners were always gentle and amiable. -After a few steps he found himself so near Mila that he naturally took -her round elbow in his hand to guide her through the narrow lanes of the -suburb, and walked with her, supporting her thus, to her door. -</p> -<p> -Michel had started off encased in his pride as in a cuirass, mentally -accusing the princess of caprice and coquetry, and firmly resolved not -to allow himself to be dazzled by her advances. And yet he confessed to -himself that he was entirely unable to understand the irritation that he -felt. He was forced to say to himself that she was immeasurably kind, -and that if she was, in fact, indebted to old Pier-Angelo, she paid her -debt with all the treasures of delicacy and refinement which a woman's -heart can contain. -</p> -<p> -But Michel could not forget all the problems which he had been trying -for two days to solve; and the way in which the princess pressed his arm -at that moment, as they walked, like a woman passionately in love or a -nervous person unaccustomed to walking, was a fresh problem which the -idea of a service rendered the signora by his father did not -sufficiently explain. -</p> -<p> -He strode forward at first in silence, saying to himself that he would -not speak first, that he would not give way to emotion, that he would -not forget that Magnani's arm had probably been pressed in the same way; -in a word, that he would be on his guard: for either Princess Agatha was -mad, or she concealed the most insane coquetry beneath a virtuous and -downcast exterior. -</p> -<p> -But all his fine plans came to naught. The shady paths that they trod, -with plots of land carefully tilled and planted on each side, led -through a succession of small gardens belonging to well-to-do mechanics -or middle-class citizens of the town. The paths were separated from the -plots only by shrubs, rose-bushes, or beds of aromatic herbs. Here and -there vine-clad arbors cast a dense shadow about them. The moon's rays -were oblique and uncertain. Innumerable perfumes arose from the -flower-strewn fields, and the sea, behind the hills in the distance, -murmured in amorous tones. Nightingales sang among the jasmines. Some -human voices sang in the distance, gayly challenging the echo; but there -was no one on the path which Michel and Agatha were following. The -little gardens were deserted. Michel felt oppressed; his pace slackened, -his arm trembled convulsively. A faint breeze blew the princess's veil -near his face, and he fancied that he heard mysterious voices whispering -in his ear. He dared not turn to see whether it was a woman's breath or -the breath of night that caressed him so near at hand. -</p> -<p> -"My dear Michel," said the princess, in a calm tone, which brought him -abruptly from the sky to the earth, "I ask your pardon, but I really -must stop to take breath. I am not much accustomed to walking, and I -feel very tired. Here is a bench under this arbor which invites me to -sit down for five minutes, and I fancy that the owners of this little -garden, if they should see me, would not accuse me of committing a crime -if I take advantage of it." -</p> -<p> -Michel led her to the bench to which she pointed, and, restored to -reason once more, walked a few steps away to look at a little fountain -whose soft gurgling failed to divert him from his reverie. -</p> -<p> -"Yes, yes, it was a dream, or else it was my little sister Mila who gave -me that kiss. She is a mocking madcap! she would have explained the -great mystery of the locket to me if I had questioned her frankly and -earnestly. Doubtless there is some perfectly natural cause for all this -which does not occur to me. Isn't it always so with natural causes? The -only one that one does not divine is always the simplest. Ah! if Mila -knew what danger she is playing with, and what pain she might spare me -by telling me the truth! I will press her so to-morrow that she will -tell me everything!" -</p> -<p> -While Michel reflected thus, the crystal water murmured in its narrow -basin, wherein quivered the spectre of the moon. The fountain was a -small terra-cotta affair, of classic simplicity; an aquatic cupid -grasping a huge carp from whose mouth the stream of water fell about a -foot into the reservoir. The artist who had executed the figure had -attempted to give it a mischievous expression, but he had succeeded only -in imparting to the carp's great eyes a glare of grotesque ferocity. -Michel looked at the group without seeing it, and to no purpose was the -night soft and fragrant; he, passionate lover of nature that he was, -absorbed by his own thoughts, denied to nature his accustomed homage on -that evening. -</p> -<p> -And yet the murmur of the water acted upon his imagination without his -realizing it. He remembered a similar melodious sound, the timid and -melancholy murmur with which the marble Naiad filled the grotto of the -Palmarosa palace as she emptied her urn into the basin; the blissful -sensations of his dream passed before his mind once more, and he would -fain have fallen asleep where he stood, hoping for a repetition of his -hallucination. -</p> -<p> -"But what am I thinking of!" he suddenly said to himself; "am I not a -most absurd novice? Did she not stop here in order to invite me to -prolong an ardent tête-à-tête? I took that sudden fatigue, that fancy -to sit in the first garden that we came to, for an honest explanation of -the confusion she felt—was it not intended as an encouragement to my -uncouth timidity?" -</p> -<p> -He eagerly approached the princess, feeling emboldened by the shadow of -the arbor. The bench was so small that, unless he asked her to make room -for him, he could not sit beside her. He sat down on the grass, not -precisely at her feet, but near enough to be nearer still ere long. -</p> -<p> -"Well, Michel," she said to him, with an indescribable sweetness in her -voice, "are you also tired, pray?" -</p> -<p> -"I am worn out," he replied, in a tone of deep emotion which made the -princess start. -</p> -<p> -"What do you mean? you are not ill, my child?" she said, putting out her -hand, which came in contact with the young man's silky hair in the -darkness. -</p> -<p> -With one bound he was at her knees, his head bent, as it were fascinated -beneath that hand which did not repel him, his lips pressed to the hem -of that floating silk dress which could not betray his transports; -uncertain, beside himself, lacking courage to declare his passion, -lacking strength to resist it. -</p> -<p> -"Michel," cried the princess, letting her hand fall again upon the young -madman's burning brow, "you are feverish, my child! your head is -burning! Yes, yes," she added, stroking his cheeks with affectionate -solicitude, "you have had too much fatigue these last few days; you have -been awake two nights in succession, and although you threw yourself on -your bed for a few hours this morning, I doubt if you slept much. And I -have led you on to talk too much to-night. You must go home. Let us walk -on; you can leave me at the gate of my park and go home at once. I -intended to say something to you to-night; but I am afraid that you are -going to be sick; when you are thoroughly rested, perhaps I will speak -to you." -</p> -<p> -She attempted to rise; but Michel was kneeling on the edge of her dress. -He held against his cheeks, he put to his lips that lovely hand which -did not seek to avoid his caresses. -</p> -<p> -"No, no," cried Michel, impetuously, "let me die here. I know very well -that you will drive me from your presence forever to-morrow; I know that -I shall never see you again, now that you see what is taking place -within me. But it is too late, and I am going mad! Oh! do not pretend to -believe that I am ill because I have worked by day and been awake all -night! Do not be afraid to discover the truth; it is your own fault, -signora, you would have it so! Could I resist so many temptations? Spurn -me, Agatha, curse me; but to-morrow, to-night, give me the kiss I -dreamed of in the Naiad's grotto!" -</p> -<p> -"Ah! Michel," cried the princess, in a tone impossible to describe, "did -you feel it? did you see me? do you know all? Did somebody tell you, or -did you divine it? It is God's will. And you fear that I will spurn you? -you fear that I will curse you? O my God! is it possible? Pray, does not -what is taking place in your heart reveal to you the love with which -mine is overflowing?" -</p> -<p> -As she spoke the lovely Agatha threw her arms around Michel's neck, and, -drawing his head to her breast, covered it with ineffable kisses. -</p> -<p> -Michel was eighteen years old, he had a fiery heart, a restless, -all-devouring temperament, vast pride, and an enterprising spirit. But -his heart was as pure as his age, and his happiness found him chaste and -prostrate in religious adoration. All his jealousy, all his insulting -suspicions vanished. It no longer occurred to him to wonder how a person -so austere in her morals, who was supposed never to have had a lover, -could suddenly fall in love at first sight with a child like him, and -tell him so with such absolute candor. He was conscious of nothing save -the joy of being loved, an enthusiastic and unbounded gratitude, a -fervent, blind adoration. From Agatha's arms he fell at her feet, and -covered them with passionate, almost pious kisses. -</p> -<p> -"No, no, not at my feet, on my heart!" cried the princess; and she held -him there a long while in a fervent embrace, weeping freely. -</p> -<p> -Her tears were so sincere—they had such a sacred eloquence of their -own—that Michel felt a great wave of sympathy. His heart swelled and -he burst into sobs; a divine joy banished all thought of earthly joy. He -found that that woman aroused in him no profane desire; that he was -happy and not excited in her arms; that to mingle his tears with hers, -and to feel that he was loved by her, was happiness greater than all the -transports of which his youth had dreamed; in a word, that he respected -her even to dread, as he held her pressed against his heart, and that -there never could be a thought between her and him which the angels -might not read with a smile on their lips. -</p> -<p> -He felt all this, confusedly without doubt, but so deeply, and with such -a thrill of triumph, that Agatha never suspected the evil impulse of -fatuous conceit which had brought him to her feet a few moments before. -</p> -<p> -Thereupon Agatha, raising her lovely glistening eyes to heaven, her face -pale in the moonlight, and as it were rapt in a divine ecstasy, cried, -in a transport of joy: "O my God! how I thank Thee! This is the first -moment of happiness that Thou hast given me; but I do not complain of -having had to wait so long, for it is so great, so pure, so complete, -that it effaces and redeems all the sorrows of my life!" -</p> -<p> -She was so lovely, she spoke with such sincere enthusiasm, that Michel -fancied that he had before him a saint of ancient days. "O my God! my -God!" he exclaimed in a voice stifled by emotion, "I, too, bless Thee! -What have I done to deserve such happiness? To be loved by her! Oh! it -is a dream; I dread to wake!" -</p> -<p> -"No, it is not a dream, Michel," rejoined the princess, turning her -inspired glance upon him once more; "it is the only reality of my life, -and it will be the one great reality of your whole life. Tell me, what -other being than you I could love on this earth? Hitherto I have done -nothing but suffer and languish; but now that you are here, it seems to -me that I was born for the greatest human felicity. My child, my -beloved, my sovereign consolation, my only love! Oh! I cannot speak any -more, I do not know what to say to you; joy overwhelms and crushes me!" -</p> -<p> -"No, no, let us not talk," cried Michel. "No words can describe what I -feel; and, thank heaven, I do not yet grasp the whole extent of my -happiness; for, if I did, it seems to me that I should die of it!" -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap42"></a>XLII -<br><br> -AN EMBARRASSING CONJUNCTURE</h4> - -<p> -The sound of footsteps not far away aroused them both from their -delirious excitement. The princess rose, somewhat alarmed by the -approach of strangers, and, seizing Michel's arm, hurried on toward her -villa with him. She walked more rapidly than before, carefully veiled, -but leaning upon him with a sacred joy. And he, with wildly-beating -heart, bewildered with happiness, but penetrated with the most profound -respect, hardly dared to raise to his lips from time to time the hand -that he held in his. -</p> -<p> -Not until he saw the gate of the princess's garden before him did he -recover the power of speech. -</p> -<p> -"What! leave you already?" he said anxiously; "part so soon? It is -impossible! I shall die of excitement and despair." -</p> -<p> -"We must part here," said the princess. "The time has not come when we -shall not part at all. But that happy day will come soon. Have no fear; -leave everything to me. Rely upon me and my boundless love to see to it -that we are united forever." -</p> -<p> -"Is it possible? Do these words that I hear really come from your mouth? -That day will come, you say? We shall be united? we shall never part? -Oh! do not trifle with my simplicity! I dare not believe in such -happiness; and yet, when it is you who say it, I cannot doubt!" -</p> -<p> -"Doubt the permanence of the stars that shine above us, doubt your own -existence rather than the power of my heart to overcome the obstacles -which seem to you so immense, but which now seem to me so trifling! Ah! -on the day when I shall no longer have aught except the world to fear, I -shall be very strong, I promise you!" - -"The world?" said Michel. "Ah! yes, I remember; I had forgotten -everything except you and myself. The world will deny you, the world -will be offended with you, all because of me! O God, forgive the -impulses of my pride! I abhor them now. Oh! let my happiness be shrouded -in mystery, and let no one know of it! I insist that it shall be so; I -will never suffer you to ruin yourself for love of me." -</p> -<p> -"Noble-hearted child!" cried the princess, "let your mind be at rest; we -will triumph together; but I thank you for this generous impulse of your -heart. Ah! yes, all your impulses are generous, I know. I am not happy -simply, I am proud of you!" -</p> -<p> -And she took the young man's head in both hands and kissed him again. -</p> -<p> -But Michel thought that he heard footsteps a short distance away, and -the fear of compromising that courageous woman triumphed over his -happiness. -</p> -<p> -"We may be watched or surprised," he said to her; "I am sure that -someone is coming this way. Fly! I will stay hidden in the bushes here -until these people, whether spies or mere passers-by, are out of -hearing. But we shall meet to-morrow, shall we not?" -</p> -<p> -"Oh! surely," she replied. "Come here in the morning, as if to work, and -go up to my Casino." -</p> -<p> -She pressed him to her heart once more, then entered the park and -disappeared among the trees. -</p> -<p> -The noise he had heard had ceased, as if the persons who were -approaching had gone in another direction. -</p> -<p> -Michel stood for a long time, motionless as a statue, and as it were -bereft of reason. After so many fascinating illusions, after such mighty -efforts not to believe in them, he was falling back once more under the -empire of dreams—at least he feared so. He dared not believe that he -was awake; he was afraid to take a step—to move a muscle—lest -he might thereby dispel the illusion once more, as in the Naiad's grotto. -He could not decide to question reality. Even the probabilities frightened -him. How could Agatha love him? Why did she love him? He could find no -answers to those questions, whereupon he cast them aside as blasphemous. -"She loves me! she told me so!" he exclaimed mentally. "To doubt it -would be a crime. If I distrusted her word, I should be unworthy of her -love." -</p> -<p> -And he plunged into an ocean of blissful reveries. He lifted up his -thoughts toward heaven, which had caused him to be born to so happy a -fate. He felt capable of the greatest deeds, since he was deemed worthy -of the greatest joys. Never had he believed so fervently in the divine -mercy, never had he felt so proud and so humble, so devout and so brave. -</p> -<p> -"O my God!" he said in his heart, "forgive me; until this day I believed -myself to be a creature of some importance. I was proud, I abandoned -myself to self-love; and yet I was not loved. Not until to-day have I -really lived. I have received life, I have received a heart, I am a man! -But I shall never forget that of myself I am nothing, and that the -enthusiasm which possesses me, the strength which overflows within me, -the virtue of which I realize the full worth to-day, were born under -that woman's breath, and live in me only through her. O day of boundless -bliss! O sovereign tranquillity, ambition satisfied without selfishness -and without remorse! O blessed victory which leaves the heart modest and -overflowing with generous sentiments! Love is all this and more. How -kind Thou art, O God, not to have allowed me to divine it beforehand, -and how vastly this surprise enhances the ecstasy of a heart just coming -forth from its utter insignificance!" -</p> -<p> -He was about to walk slowly away when he saw a dark figure glide along -the wall and disappear among the branches. He drew back still farther -into the shadow to watch, and soon he recognized the Piccinino, as he -removed his cloak and tossed it over the wall, so that he might scale it -more readily. -</p> -<p> -All Michel's blood flowed back toward his heart. Was Carmelo expected? -Had the princess authorized him to come and confer with her, at any hour -of the night, and to introduce himself into her villa by any means he -might choose? It is true that there were important secrets between them, -and that, it being more natural, as he said, for him to travel as the -crow flies, scaling a wall by night was a natural method of procedure -for him. He had warned Agatha that he might ring the bell at the gate of -her flower-garden when she least expected him. But was it not unwise on -her part to give him permission? Who could be sure of the intentions of -such a man as the Piccinino? Agatha was alone; would she be imprudent -enough to admit him and listen to him? If she carried her confidence to -that point, Michel could not make up his mind to share it. Did she -realize that that man was in love with her, or that he pretended to be? -What had they said to each other in the flower-garden, while Michel and -the marquis looked on but could not hear? -</p> -<p> -Michel fell headlong from the sky to the earth. A violent paroxysm of -jealousy took possession of him, and, to delude himself, he tried to -make up his mind that he feared nothing but the danger of insult for the -lady of his thoughts. Was it not his duty to watch over her safety and -to protect her against the whole world? -</p> -<p> -He noiselessly opened the gate, the key of which he had retained as well -as that of the flower-garden, and glided into the park, resolved to -watch the enemy. But, after the Piccinino had agilely scaled the wall, -he could find no trace of him. -</p> -<p> -He walked toward the cliff, and, being perfectly certain that there was -nobody in front of him, he decided to ascend the staircase cut in the -lava, turning every moment to see if the Piccinino were following him. -His heart beat very fast, for a conflict with him upon that staircase -would have been decisive. On seeing him there, the brigand would have -realized that he had been deceived, that Michel was Agatha's -lover—and to what extremities would his rage not have impelled -him? Michel did not fear a bloody struggle on his own account; but how -could he prevent Carmelo from wreaking vengeance upon Agatha, if he -should come forth alive from that struggle? -</p> -<p> -Nevertheless, Michel kept on to the top, and, having made sure that he -was not followed, entered the flower-garden, locked the gate, and -approached Agatha's boudoir. The room was lighted, but empty. A moment -later a maid came and extinguished the candles, then went away. All was -silence and darkness. -</p> -<p> -Michel had never been more intensely disturbed. His heart beat as if it -would burst, as the silence and uncertainty continued. What was taking -place in Agatha's apartments? Her bedroom was behind the boudoir; it -could be entered from the flower-garden through a short passage where a -lamp was still burning. Michel could see it by looking through the -key-hole of the carved door. Perhaps that door was not locked on the -inside. Michel tried it, and, meeting with no resistance, entered the -Casino. -</p> -<p> -Where was he going and what did he intend to do? He had no very clear -idea himself. He said to himself that he was going to the assistance of -Agatha, whose security was threatened by the Piccinino. He did not -choose to admit that he was spurred on by the demon of jealousy. -</p> -<p> -He fancied that he could hear voices in Agatha's bedroom. They were two -women's voices: they might be Agatha's and her maid's, or the second one -might be Carmelo's soft and almost feminine voice. -</p> -<p> -Michel stood irresolute, trembling from head to foot. If he should go -back into the flower-garden, the door of the passage-way would doubtless -soon be locked by the maid; and in that case how was he to get in again -unless by breaking a pane of glass in the boudoir—an expedient suited -to the genius of the Piccinino, but naturally repugnant to Michel. -</p> -<p> -It seemed to him that centuries had passed since he saw the bandit climb -the wall; but it was less than a quarter of an hour. However, one can -live years in a minute, and he said to himself that the Piccinino had -evidently preceded him, as he was so slow about following him. -</p> -<p> -Suddenly the door of Agatha's bedroom opened, and Michel had barely time -to step behind the pedestal of the statue which held the lamp. "Lock the -garden door," said Agatha to her maid, who came out of the bedroom, "but -leave this one open; it is horribly hot in my room." -</p> -<p> -The girl returned after obeying her mistress's orders. Michel was -comforted, Agatha was alone with her maid. But he was locked in, and how -could he get out? or how could he explain his presence if he were -discovered hiding there at the princess's door? -</p> -<p> -"I will tell the truth," he thought, not admitting to himself that it -was only half of the truth. "I will say that I saw the Piccinino climb -the park wall, and that I came to defend her whom I adore against a man -whom I do not trust." -</p> -<p> -But he determined to wait until the maid had been dismissed, for he did -not know whether she possessed her mistress's entire confidence, and -whether she would not attribute a criminal meaning to that mark of their -intimacy. -</p> -<p> -A few moments later, Agatha did dismiss her. There was a sound of -footsteps and of doors, as if the maid closed them all behind her as she -withdrew. Determined not to delay showing himself, Michel resolutely -entered Agatha's bedroom, but found himself alone there. The princess -had gone into her oratory before retiring, and Michel saw her kneeling -on a velvet cushion. She was dressed in a long, floating white robe. Her -black hair fell to her feet in two great braids, the weight of which -would have disturbed her sleep if she had kept them about her head at -night. The faint light of a lamp under a bluish globe cast a melancholy, -transparent reflection upon her, which made her resemble a ghost. Michel -paused, overcome with respect and dread. -</p> -<p> -But, as he was hesitating whether he should interrupt her prayer, and -wondering how he could attract her attention without frightening her, he -heard the door of the little passageway open, and steps, so light that -none but a jealous lover's ear could distinguish them, approach Agatha's -bedroom. Michel had just time to jump behind the bedstead of carved -ebony, decorated with small ivory figures. It did not stand against the -wall, as our beds do, but some little distance away, as is customary in -hot countries, with its foot near the centre of the room. Between the -wall and the high headboard of that ancient piece of furniture there was -sufficient room for Michel to hide. He did not stoop for fear of moving -the white satin curtains. He had no time to take many precautions. -Chance favored him, for, despite the swift and inquisitive glance which -the Piccinino cast about the room, he saw no disorder, no movement to -betray the presence of a man who had arrived before him. -</p> -<p> -Nevertheless, he was about to take the prudent course of making a -thorough search, when the princess, hearing his light footsteps, half -rose, saying: -</p> -<p> -"Is that you, Nunziata?" -</p> -<p> -Receiving no reply, she put aside the portière which half concealed the -interior of her bedroom, and saw the Piccinino standing in front of her. -She rose to her feet and stood motionless with surprise and terror. -</p> -<p> -But, realizing that she must not betray her painful emotion in the -presence of a man of that character, she kept silent so that her altered -voice might reveal nothing, and walked toward him as if expecting him to -explain his audacious visit. -</p> -<p> -The Piccinino knelt on one knee, and said, handing her a folded -parchment: -</p> -<p> -"Signora, I knew that you must be extremely anxious concerning this -important document, and I did not wish to postpone its delivery until -to-morrow. I came here during the evening, but you were absent, and I -was obliged to wait until you had returned. Forgive me if my visit is -somewhat opposed to the proprieties of the society in which you live, -but your highness is aware that I am compelled to act on all occasions, -and especially in this matter, with the greatest secrecy." -</p> -<p> -"Signor captain," replied Agatha, after opening and glancing at the -parchment, "I knew that my uncle's will had been stolen from Doctor -Recuperati this morning. The poor doctor came here this afternoon, quite -beside himself, to tell me of his misadventure. He could not imagine how -his wallet had been taken from his pocket, and he accused Abbé Ninfo. I -was not alarmed, because I felt sure that Abbé Ninfo would have to -account to you for his theft in the course of the day. So I comforted -the doctor, bidding him not mention the incident, and promising him that -the will would soon be recovered. You can well believe that I could give -him no hint as to how it would be done and by whom. Now, captain, it is -not proper for me to have in my hands a document which I should have the -appearance of having seized because I was distrustful of my uncle's -intentions or the doctor's good faith. I will ask you, therefore, when -the moment to produce it shall have come, to restore it by some means, -indirect but sure, to the depositary who previously had it in charge. -You are too ingenious not to discover such a means without betraying -yourself in any way." -</p> -<p> -"You wish me to take charge of this again? can you think of such a -thing, signora?" said the Piccinino, who was still standing and waiting -impatiently an invitation to sit; but Agatha stood as she spoke to him, -as if she anticipated his speedy withdrawal, while he was determined to -prolong the interview at any price. He suggested difficulties. -</p> -<p> -"It is impossible," he said; "the cardinal is in the habit of signifying -with his eyes that he wants his will to be shown to him, and he thinks -of it every day. To be sure," he added, to gain time, resting his hand -on the back of a chair as if he were very tired, "to be sure, the -cardinal, being deprived of his interpreter, Abbé Ninfo, it would be -easy for the doctor to pretend that he did not understand his eminence's -eloquent glances.—Especially," continued the brigand, moving his -chair a little and resting his elbow on it, "especially as the doctor's -usual stupidity would make his failure to understand very probable. -But," he added, respectfully offering the chair to the princess so that -she might set him the example of sitting down, "the cardinal's meaning -may be understood by some other trusty servitor, who would force the -excellent doctor to the wall by saying to him: 'You see, his eminence -wants to look at his will!'" -</p> -<p> -And the Piccinino made a graceful gesture to indicate that it pained him -to see her standing before him. -</p> -<p> -But Agatha did not choose to understand, nor was she willing to keep the -will, in order to avoid having to thank the Piccinino at such a moment -in terms which should offend him by too great reserve, or encourage him -by too great warmth. She was determined to maintain her proud attitude, -while overwhelming him with manifestations of a confidence without -bounds so far as her material interests were concerned. -</p> -<p> -"No, captain," she said, still standing and in perfect control of -herself, "the cardinal will not ask again to see the will, for his -condition has grown much worse in twenty-four hours. It seems that that -wretched Ninfo kept him in a state of excitement which prolonged his -life; for, since he disappeared this morning, my uncle has been in a -sort of lethargic state, bordering closely, I doubt not, on the repose -of the grave. His eyes are dull; he no longer seems to pay any heed to -what is going on about him. He does not notice the absence of his -familiar, and the doctor is compelled to resort to all the expedients of -his profession to combat a drowsiness from which he fears that there -will be no awakening." -</p> -<p> -"Doctor Recuperati has always lacked common sense," rejoined the -Piccinino, seating himself on the edge of a console, and letting his -cloak fall at his feet as if by inadvertence. "I ask your highness," he -added, folding his arms across his breast, "if the so-called laws of -humanity are not absurd and false in such cases, like almost all the -laws of human respect and hypocritical propriety? What benefit do we -confer on a dying man when we try to recall him to life, with the -certainty that we shall not succeed, and that we are simply prolonging -his torture in the world? If I were in Doctor Recuperati's place, I -would say to myself that his eminence has lived quite long enough. It is -the opinion of all respectable people, and of your highness yourself, -that that man has lived too long. It is high time to allow him to repose -from the fatiguing journey of this life, since he seems to desire it, so -far as he himself is concerned, and to arrange his head comfortably on -his pillow for his last sleep. I ask your highness's pardon for leaning -on this console; my legs are giving way under me, I have run about so -much to-day in your interest; and if I do not rest for a moment, it will -be impossible for me to return to Nicolosi to-night." -</p> -<p> -Agatha made a gesture which invited the brigand to occupy the chair that -stood between them; but she remained standing herself, to signify that -she did not propose that he should abuse the privilege. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap43"></a>XLIII -<br><br> -A CRISIS</h4> - -<p> -"It seems to me," said the princess, as she placed the will on the -console at the Piccinino's elbow, "that we are digressing a little from -the real question. I will remind your lordship of the facts. My uncle -has a few moments to live, and he will not think of his will again. Thus -the day when the document must be produced is near at hand. Now, I am -very desirous that when that day comes it shall be in the doctor's hands -and not in mine." -</p> -<p> -"That is a very noble scruple on your part," rejoined the Piccinino, in -a firm tone which concealed his irritation; "but I have the same scruple -on my own account, and, as everything strange and mysterious that -happens on this island is attributed to the fabulous Captain Piccinino, -I do not wish to have any hand in this restitution. Your ladyship will -be kind enough, therefore, to arrange it in whatever way you may deem -best. It was not I who stole the will. I found it on the thief. I bring -it back; and I consider that I have done enough not to deserve the -charge of lukewarmness in your service. Doubtless Abbé Ninfo's -disappearance will soon be noticed, and the name of the Piccinino will -occur at once to the popular imagination as well as to the crafty brains -of the police authorities. Result, fresh investigations on the heels of -those of which my humble personality is already the object, and which I -have escaped thus far only by a miracle. I have accepted the risks of -this affair; I have the <i>monster</i> in my power. Your highness's mind is -at rest concerning the safety of your friends and your own freedom of -action. You are in possession of the document that entitles you to great -wealth. Do you wish my life? I am ready to lay it down for you a hundred -times; but bid me to do it, and do not drive me to my destruction by -subterfuges, without giving me the consolation of knowing that I die for -you." -</p> -<p> -The Piccinino uttered these last words in a tone that made it impossible -for Agatha longer to avoid entering upon a delicate subject. -</p> -<p> -"Captain," she said, forcing herself to smile, "you judge me ill if you -think that I wish to rid myself of my burden of gratitude to you. My -disinclination to take this paper, which represents to me the title to -great wealth, should prove my confidence in you and my purpose to allow -you to dispose absolutely of everything that belongs to me." -</p> -<p> -"I do not understand, signora," replied the bandit, moving restlessly on -his chair. "Did you think that I came to your assistance merely to do a -profitable stroke of business, and for no other purpose?" -</p> -<p> -"Captain," replied Agatha, outwardly unmoved by the Piccinino's real or -pretended indignation, "you style yourself, and justly, the <i>justicier -d'aventure</i>. That is to say, you do justice according to your heart -and your conscience, without regard to formal laws, which are very often -contrary to those of natural and divine justice. You assist the weak, -you rescue victims, you protect those whose feelings and opinions seem -to you to deserve your esteem against those whom you regard as the -enemies of your country and of mankind. You punish cowards and you -prevent the execution of their base designs. All this is a mission which -legally constituted society does not always understand, but of which I -appreciate the real merit and heroism. Need I say more to convince you -of my esteem for you, and do you think that I have failed to manifest -it? But since society denies the propriety of your intervention, and -since, in order to continue it, you are forced to provide yourself with -abundant resources, it would be insane—it would be -impertinent—to seek your protection without offering you the means -of putting it forth and of extending its scope. I thought of -that—I could not fail to think of it; and I determined not to deal -with you as with an ordinary advocate, but to allow you to fix yourself -the price of your loyal and generous services. I should have considered -that I insulted you by putting a price upon them. In my eyes they are -beyond price. That is why, while I invite you to draw at your discretion -upon a princely fortune, I am still forced to rely upon your modesty and -generosity to consider that I have paid my debt to you." -</p> -<p> -"These are very flattering words, and your highness's soft speech would -fascinate me, if my ideas were such as you attribute to me. But if you -will deign to be seated a moment and listen to me, I shall be able to -explain my ideas without fear of abusing the patience with which you -honor me." -</p> -<p> -"On my word!" thought Agatha, as she took a seat at some distance from -the Piccinino, "this man's persistence is like destiny, inevitable." -</p> -<p> -"I shall soon have finished," continued the Piccinino, with a crafty -smile, when he saw that she was seated at last. "I look after my own -interests while looking after other people's, that is true; but every -man understands the advantages of life as circumstances impel him to do. -Some people want nothing but gold. Those are vulgar instances,—the -market price, as they say, I believe. But with certain others, who are -more wealthy in charms and in noble qualities than in ducats, the -intelligent man aspires to a less vulgar recompense. The material wealth -of a person like Princess Agatha is a mere trifle compared with the -treasures of generosity and delicacy which her heart contains. And if -the man of action, who has devoted himself to her service, has done so -with a certain degree of promptitude and zeal, is he not at liberty to -aspire to some nobler gratification than that of putting his hand in her -purse? Ah! yes, there are moral joys far more exalted, and the offer of -your fortune as a substitute for them is so far from satisfying me, that -it wounds my heart and my mind like an insult." -</p> -<p> -Agatha began to be really terrified, for the Piccinino had risen and -drawn nearer to her. She dared not change her position, she feared that -she should tremble and turn pale; and yet, brave as she was, that young -man's face and voice caused her a frightful shock. His dress, his -features, his manners, his voice awoke a whole world of memories within -her, and, strive as she would to raise him to a level where she could -esteem him and be truly grateful to him, an unconquerable aversion -closed her heart to such sentiments. She had so long refused Fra -Angelo's suggestions that this man's assistance should be procured, that -she would assuredly have persisted in not having recourse to him, had it -not been certain that Abbé Ninfo had tried to hire him to procure the -assassination or abduction of Michel, pointing to the will as a means of -rewarding his services. -</p> -<p> -But it was too late. The noble-hearted and ingenuous Capuchin of Bel -Passo had not foreseen that his former ward, whom he had accustomed -himself to look upon as a child, might fall in love with a woman several -years older than himself. And yet what was more natural? The persons for -whom one has much respect have no age. To Fra Angelo the Princess of -Palmarosa, Saint Agatha of Catania, and the Madonna, had no sex even. If -anyone had interrupted his sleep to tell him that at that moment Agatha -was in imminent danger from his ward, he would have exclaimed: "Ah! the -wretched boy must have seen her diamonds!" And, as he started to go to -the princess's assistance, he would have said to himself that she had -but a word to say to keep the brigand at a distance; but Agatha felt an -invincible repugnance to say that word, and she still hoped that she -would not be forced to that expedient. -</p> -<p> -"I understand very well, signor captain," she said with increasing -coldness, "that you ask for no other reward but my esteem; but I repeat -that I have proved it to you on this very occasion, and I think that -your pride should be satisfied." -</p> -<p> -"Yes, signora, my pride; but it is not a question of my pride alone. Nor -are you sufficiently well acquainted with it to measure its extent and -to know whether it is not superior to any pecuniary sacrifice that you -could make in my favor. I do not want your will, I want no part of your -fortune, now or ever, do you understand?" -</p> -<p> -And he knelt at her feet and took her hand with savage vehemence. -</p> -<p> -Agatha rose, and yielding to an indignant, perhaps injudicious impulse, -she took the will from the console. -</p> -<p> -"Since that is so," she said, trying to tear it, "it is as well that -this fortune should be neither mine nor yours, for the recovery of this -paper is the least important service you have rendered me, captain; and -had it not been connected with another of much greater importance, I -should never have asked you to do it. Let me destroy this will, and then -you can ask me for a legitimate share of my affection, without my -blushing to listen to you." -</p> -<p> -But the parchment resisted the efforts of her weak hands, and the -Piccinino had time to take it from her and place it under a large piece -of Roman mosaic, which lay on the console, and which she would have had -even more difficulty in lifting. -</p> -<p> -"Let us put this aside," he said, with a smile, "and think no more about -it. Let us suppose even that it never existed; we are well aware that it -cannot be a bond between us, and that you owe me nothing in exchange for -your fortune. I know that you are already rich enough to do without -these millions; I know too that, if you were penniless, you would not -give your friendship as the reward of a mere pecuniary service which you -expected to pay for with money. I admire your pride, signora; I -appreciate it, and I am proud to appreciate it. Ah! now that we have put -that prosaic thought out of our hearts, I feel much happier, for I hope! -I feel much bolder, too, for the friendship of such a woman as you seems -to me so desirable that I would risk everything to obtain it." -</p> -<p> -"Do not speak of friendship," said Agatha, pushing him away, for he was -beginning to handle her long tresses and to wind them about his arm as -if to chain himself to her; "speak of the gratitude I owe you; it is -very great, I shall never deny it, and I will prove it to you when -occasion offers, against your will if I must. The service you have -rendered me entitles you to services from me, and some day we shall be -quits! But friendship implies mutual sympathy, and, in order to obtain -mine, you must earn it and deserve it." -</p> -<p> -"What must I do?" cried the Piccinino, vehemently. "Speak! oh! I implore -you, tell me what I must do to win your love!" -</p> -<p> -"Respect me in the depths of your heart," she replied, "and do not -approach me with those bold eyes and that self-satisfied smile, which -are an insult to me." -</p> -<p> -Seeing her cold and lofty bearing, the Piccinino was angry; but he knew -that anger is an unwise counsellor. He desired to please her, and he -controlled his temper. -</p> -<p> -"You do not understand me," he said, leading her back to her chair and -sitting down beside her. "Oh! no, you fail utterly to understand a heart -like mine! You are too much the woman of the world, too politic, and I -am too ingenuous, too rough, too uncivilized! You are afraid of wild -outbreaks on my part, because you see that I love you madly; but you are -not afraid of causing me pain, because you have no conception of the -pain your indifference may cause me. You think that a mountaineer of -Ætna, a brigand and adventurer, can know only sensual transports; and -when I ask you for your heart, you think that you have to defend your -person. If I were a duke or marquis, you would listen to me without -alarm, you would console me for my grief; and, pointing out to me that -your love was out of the question, you would offer me your friendship. -And I should be gentle, patient, prostrate at your feet in melancholy -and affectionate gratitude. It is because I am of the common people, a -peasant, that you deny me even your sympathy! Your pride takes fright -because you think that I demand something as a right acquired by my -services, and you continue to throw my services at my head as if I -relied upon them as entitling me to a recompense from you, as if I -remembered them when I am looking at you and talking with you! Alas! I -do not know how to express myself; I simply say what I think, without -torturing my mind to find a way to convince you of it without saying it. -I know nothing of the art of your flatterers; I am no more a courtier of -beauty than of power, and the curse that rests upon my life makes it -impossible for me to play the attendant cavalier like the Marquis della -Serra. I have but an hour at night to come, at the risk of my life, to -tell you that I am your slave, and you answer that you do not choose to -be my sovereign, but my debtor, my customer, who will pay me handsomely! -Fie, fie, signora! you place an ice-cold hand upon a burning heart!" -</p> -<p> -"If you have in your mind nothing more than friendship," said Agatha, -"if you really aspire to be one of my friends simply, I will promise you -that that may come about——" -</p> -<p> -"Let me speak!" rejoined the Piccinino, with renewed animation, his face -lighting up with the beauty which was his when he was really moved. "At -first I dared not ask you for anything more than your friendship, and it -was your childish fright that forced the word love from my lips. Very -good! what more can a man say to a woman to restore her courage? I love -you, therefore you should not tremble when I take your hand. I respect -you, as you see, for we are alone, and I am in perfect control of my -passions; but I cannot control my thoughts and the outbursts of my love. -I have not my whole life in which to prove it to you. I have but this -instant in which to tell you of it, so listen. If I could pass six hours -of every day at your feet, like the marquis, I might perhaps be -satisfied with the feeling that you have for him; but, as I have only -this hour which is passing before me like a vision, I must have your -love, or else a despair which I dare not imagine. So let me speak of -love; listen to me and do not be afraid. If you say no, it shall be no, -but if you would listen to me without thinking of protecting yourself, -if you would deign to understand me once for all, if you would forget -the world you live in, and the pride which is out of place here, and -which has no existence in the sphere in which I live, you would be -touched because you would be convinced. Oh! yes. If you were a simple -soul, and if you did not put prejudices in the place of the pure -inspirations of nature and of truth, you would feel that there is one -heart more youthful and more ardent than all those you have spurned, the -heart of a lion or tiger with men, but a man's heart with women, a -child's heart with you! You would pity me at least. You would see my -life as it is: constantly tormented and threatened, a never-ending -nightmare! And solitude! Ah! it is solitude of the heart above all else -which is killing me, because my heart is even harder to please than my -senses. You know how I bore myself with Mila this morning, do you not? -She is beautiful, surely, and neither in character nor in mind is she -one of the common herd. If I had chosen to love her, and if I had felt -for a single moment that I did love her, she would have loved me, she -would have been mine all her life. But with her I thought only of you. -You are the one whom I love, and you are the only woman I have ever -loved, although I have been the lover of many women! Love me then, -though it be but for a moment, just long enough to tell me so, or else, -when I return to-night by a certain spot called the <i>Destatore's</i> -Cross, I shall go mad! I shall dig into the earth with my nails, to insult -and cast to the winds the ashes of the man who gave me life." -</p> -<p> -At these last words Agatha lost all her strength; she turned pale; a -shudder ran through her every limb, and she threw herself back in her -chair as if a blood-stained spectre had passed before her eyes. -</p> -<p> -"Oh! hush, hush!" she cried; "you do not know the pain you cause me!" -</p> -<p> -The Piccinino could not understand the cause of this sudden and intense -emotion; he misunderstood it utterly. He had spoken with a vehemence of -voice and expression which would have persuaded any other woman than the -princess. He had fascinated her with his gleaming eyes; he had -intoxicated her with his breath, at all events he thought so. He had -been so often justified in thinking so, even when he had not felt a -tithe of the desire this woman inspired in him! He believed that she was -vanquished, and, putting his arms about her, seeking her lips, he felt -sure that her passions, taken by surprise, would do the rest. But Agatha -eluded his caresses with unexpected vigor, and as she rushed toward a -bell-cord, Michel darted between her and the Piccinino, with blazing -eyes and with a dagger in his hand. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap44"></a>XLIV -<br><br> -REVELATIONS</h4> - -<p> -The Piccinino was so taken aback by this unexpected apparition that he -stood perfectly still, without a thought of attacking or of defending -himself. So that Michel, as he was about to strike him, held his hand, -bewildered by his own precipitation; but, with a movement so swift and -adroit that it was invisible, the Piccinino's hand was armed when Michel -withdrew his. -</p> -<p> -But the brigand, after a single furious gleam had shot from his eyes, -recovered his cold and disdainful attitude. -</p> -<p> -"Excellent," he said; "I understand everything now, and rather than -bring about so absurd a scene, Signora Palmarosa should have carried her -confidence so far as to say to me: 'Leave me, I cannot listen to you; I -have a lover hidden behind my bed.' I would have retired discreetly, -whereas now I must needs administer a lesson to Master Lavoratori, to -punish him for having seen me play an absurd rôle. So much the worse -for you, signora; the lesson will be a bloody one!" -</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>AGATHA PROTECTS MICHELANGELO.</i></p> -<p class="smaller"> -<i>He leaped at Michel with the agility of a wild -animal. But, quick and nimble as his movement -was, the miraculous power of love made Agatha -even quicker than he.</i></p> -</div></div> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -He leaped at Michel with the agility of a wild animal. But, quick and -nimble as his movement was, the miraculous power of love made Agatha -even quicker than he. She rushed to intercept the blow, and would have -received it in her breast had not the Piccinino thrust the dagger into -his sleeve so swiftly that it seemed as if his hand had always been -empty. -</p> -<p> -"What are you doing, signora?" he said. "I do not propose to murder your -lover but to fight with him. You do not wish it? Very good! You protect -him with your breast! I will not insult such a rampart, but I will find -him at another time—mark my words!" -</p> -<p> -"Stay!" cried Agatha, seizing his arm as he walked, toward the door. -"You will renounce this insane purpose of revenge and give your hand to -this alleged lover of mine. He will gladly do the same, for which of you -two desires to kill or curse his brother?" -</p> -<p> -"My brother?" said Michel, in utter bewilderment, dropping his dagger. -</p> -<p> -"He, my brother?" said the Piccinino, his weapon still within his grasp. -"This extemporized relationship is most improbable, signora. I have -always heard that Pier-Angelo's wife was very ugly, and I doubt if my -father ever played tricks upon husbands who had no reason to be jealous. -Your expedient is not at all ingenious! Farewell for the present, -Michelangelo Lavoratori!" -</p> -<p> -"I tell you that he is your brother!" repeated the princess, earnestly; -"your father's son and not Pier-Angelo's; the son of a woman whom you -cannot insult by your contempt, and who could not have listened to you -without committing a crime and an act of madness. Do you not understand -me?" -</p> -<p> -"No, signora," said the Piccinino, with a shrug; "I cannot understand -the fables that come to your mind at this moment to save your lover's -life. If this poor boy is my father's son, so much the worse for him; -for he has many other brothers beside myself, who do not amount to much, -and whom I do not hesitate to strike over the head with the butt of my -pistol when they fail in the obedience and respect they owe me. So, too, -this new member of my family—the youngest of all, I am inclined to -think—will be punished by my hand as he deserves; not in your -presence, for I am not fond of seeing women in convulsions. But this -pretty darling will not always be hidden in your bosom, signora, and I -know where I shall find him at need!" -</p> -<p> -"Have done with insulting me," rejoined Agatha, in a firm tone; "you -cannot wound me, and, unless you are a coward, you should not speak thus -to your father's wife." -</p> -<p> -"My father's wife!" exclaimed the bandit, beginning to listen and to -desire to hear. "My father was never married, signora! Do not make sport -of me." -</p> -<p> -"Your father was married to me, Carmelo, and, if you doubt it, you will -find the authentic evidence in the archives of the convent of Mal Passo. -Go and ask Fra Angelo. This young man's name is not Lavoratori; his name -is Castro-Reale. He is the son—the only legitimate son—of -Prince Cæsar de Castro-Reale." -</p> -<p> -"Then you are my mother?" cried Michel, falling on his knees and -embracing Agatha, with a sensation of terror, remorse and adoration all -in one. -</p> -<p> -"You know it," she said, pressing his face against her heaving breast. -"Now, Carmelo, come and kill him in my arms; we will die together! But, -after seeking to commit incest, you will commit fratricide!" -</p> -<p> -The Piccinino, torn by a thousand conflicting sensations, folded his -arms across his breast, and, leaning against the wall, gazed in silence -at his brother and stepmother, as if he were still inclined to doubt the -truth. Michel rose, walked toward him, and held out his hand. -</p> -<p> -"Your ignorance was the cause of your crime," he said, "and I must needs -forgive you, for I too loved her not knowing that I was fortunate enough -to be her son. Oh! do not cast a shadow on my joy by your resentment! Be -my brother, as I long to be yours! In the name of God, who orders us to -love each other, put your hand in mine and come to my mother's feet, so -that she may forgive and bless us both." -</p> -<p> -At these words, uttered with the effusive warmth of a noble and sincere -heart, the Piccinino came very near being moved. His bosom heaved as if -he were about to burst into tears; but pride was stronger than the voice -of nature, and he blushed at the emotion which had threatened to -overcome him. -</p> -<p> -"Away from me," he said to Michel. "I do not know you; I have no -sympathy with all this mawkish family sentimentality. I loved my mother, -too, but all my affection died with her. I never had any feeling for my -father,—whom I hardly knew and who cared very little for -me,—unless it may be that I was a little vain of being the only -acknowledged son of a prince and a hero. I thought that my mother was -the only woman he ever loved, but I learn now that he deceived my -mother; that he was another woman's husband; and I cannot be overjoyed -by that discovery. You are a legitimate son, and I am only a bastard. I -have been accustomed to believe that I was the only one who was really -entitled, if I chose, to adorn myself with the name which you will bear -in the world, and which no one will dispute your right to bear. And you -expect me to love you, who are of patrician blood on both sides, by your -father and by your mother? you who are rich, and will soon be powerful -in the land where I am a wanderer and an outlaw? You who, whether you -are a true or false Sicilian, will be flattered and handled gently by -the Court of Naples, and who, perhaps, will not consider that you can -afford to refuse favors and offices forever? You who will, perhaps, -command hostile armies and lay waste the homes of your countrymen? You -who, as general, minister or magistrate, may order my head cut off and a -sentence of degradation nailed to the scaffold on which that head is -fastened, to serve as an example and a menace to our other brothers of -the mountain? You expect me to love you? On the contrary, I hate you and -curse you! -</p> -<p> -"And this woman," continued the Piccinino, with intense -bitterness,—"this false, cold-blooded woman, who fooled me to the end -with infernal cunning,—you expect me to prostrate myself before her, -and ask a blessing from her hand which, for aught I know, is stained -with my father's blood! for now I understand more than she intended, I -fancy. I will never believe that she married with a good grace the -ruined, outlawed, hounded brigand, depraved by misfortune, who had then -no other name than the <i>Destatore</i>! He must have abducted her and -outraged her.—Ah! yes, now I remember! There is a tale of that sort -to which Fra Angelo refers vaguely at times. A child, surprised by the -brigands when out walking with her governess, carried off with the -governess to the chief's lair, and dismissed two hours later, outraged -and half dead! Ah! father, you were a villain as well as a hero! I know -it; and I am a better man than you, for I detest such deeds of violence, -and Fra Angelo's tale has preserved me forever from seeking enjoyment by -such means. So it was you, Agatha, who were Castro-Reale's victim! I -understand now why you consented to marry him secretly at the convent of -Mal Passo; for that marriage is a secret—probably the only secret of -that sort that never transpired! You have been very adroit, but the rest -of your story is clear to me. I know now why your parents kept you -secluded for a year, so carefully that you were supposed to be dead or -to have turned nun. I know now why my father was murdered, and I would -not swear that you were innocent of his death!" -</p> -<p> -"Wretch!" cried the princess, indignantly; "to dare to suspect me of the -murder of the man I had accepted for my husband!" -</p> -<p> -"If it was not you, then it was your father or someone of your kindred!" -retorted the Piccinino, in French, with a bitter laugh. "My father did -not kill himself," he continued in the Sicilian language, and with a -wild expression. "He was capable of a crime, but not of a dastardly act, -and the pistol that was found in his hand at the <i>Destatore's</i> cross -never belonged to him. He was not reduced, by the partial defection of -his followers, to the necessity of committing suicide in order to escape -from his enemies, and the piety which Fra Angelo tried to inspire in his -heart had not yet disturbed his mind to the point where he thought it -his duty to punish himself for his sins. He was murdered, and to have been -surprised so easily—so near the town—he must have been lured -into a trap. Abbé Ninfo had something to do with that bloody drama. I shall -find out, for I have him in my clutches; and, although I am not cruel, I -will torture him with my own hands until he confesses! For it is my -mission to avenge my father's death, as it is yours, Michel, to make -common cause with those who ordered it." -</p> -<p> -"Great God!" said Agatha, paying no attention to the Piccinino's -accusations against herself, "it seems that each day must bring with it -the discovery of some new deed of rage and vengeance in my family! O -blood of the Atrides, may the Furies never rouse you to life in my son's -veins! Ah! Michel, what duties your birth imposes on you! By what great -virtues must you redeem so many crimes committed both before and since -your birth! Carmelo, you think that your brother will turn against his -country and against you some day! If it could be so, I would ask you to -kill him to-day, while he is pure and honorable; for I know too well, -alas! what becomes of the men who renounce love of country and the -respect due to the vanquished!" -</p> -<p> -"Kill him at once?" said the Piccinino; "I am strongly tempted to take -that metaphor literally; it would take but a moment, for this Sicilian -of recent date knows no more about handling a knife than I about -handling a brush. But I didn't do it yesterday, when the thought came to -my mind by our father's grave, and I will wait until my present anger -has subsided; for one should kill only in cold blood and in accordance with -the dictates of logic and conscience.—Ah! Michel de Castro-Reale, -I did not know you yesterday, although Abbé Ninfo had already pointed -you out to my vengeance. I was jealous of you because I believed you to -be the lover of this woman who says to-day that she is your mother; but -I had a presentiment that she did not deserve the love which was -beginning to set my blood on fire for her, and when I saw how bravely -you faced me, I said to myself: 'Why kill a brave man for the sake of a -woman who may be a coward?'" -</p> -<p> -"Hush, Carmelo!" cried Michel, picking up his dagger; "whether I know -how to handle a knife or not, if you add another word to your insults to -my mother, I will have your life or you shall have mine." -</p> -<p> -"Hush, yourself, boy!" said the Piccinino, presenting his half-naked -breast to Michel with an air of contempt; "the virtue of legitimate -society makes men cowards, and you are a coward too, for you have been -reared on the ideas of that society; you would not dare to scratch my -lion's skin, because in my person you respect your brother. But I have -no such prejudices, and I will prove it to you some day when I am -calmer. To-day I am angry, I admit, and I will tell you why: it is -because I have been deceived, and I did not believe that any human being -was capable of playing on my credulity; it is because I put faith in -this woman's words when she said to me last night, in yonder -flower-garden where I can hear the fountains plashing at this moment, -under the eyes of the moon, which seemed less pure and tranquil than her -face: 'What can there be in common between that child and myself?' What -can there be in common? and you her son! and you knew it, and you -deceived me too!" -</p> -<p> -"No, I did not know it, and as for my mother——" -</p> -<p> -"You and your mother are two cold-blooded serpents, two venomous -Palmarosas! Ah! I hate that family which has persecuted me and my family -so cruelly, and some day I will make a bloody example, even of those -members of it who claim to be good patriots and nobles who sympathize -with the people. I hate all nobles for my part! and you whose mouths -blow hot and cold in turn may well tremble before my frank declaration! -I have hated the nobles for the last few moments, since I have found -that I am not noble, because I have a legitimate brother and am only a -bastard. I hate the name of Castro-Reale, since I can no longer bear it. -I am envious, revengeful, and ambitious as well! my intelligence and my -adroitness were a stronger justification of that claim on my part than -the art of painting on the part of the nursling of the Muses and of -Pier-Angelo! I should have made a greater name than he if our conditions -had remained unchanged. And the thing that makes my vanity more -endurable, Prince Michel, is that I proclaim it proudly, while you -conceal it shamefacedly, on the pretext of modesty. In short, I am the -child of uncivilized nature and of unshackled liberty, while you are the -slave of custom and of fear. I practise cunning after the manner of -wolves, and my cunning leads me to my goal. You play with falsehood, -after the manner of men, and you will always miss your goal, without -having had the merit of sincerity. Our lives are before us. If yours -annoys me overmuch, I shall rid myself of you as of any other obstacle, -do you understand? Woe to you if you irritate me! Farewell; do not try -to see me again; this is my brotherly greeting! -</p> -<p> -"And as for you, Princess of Castro-Reale," he said, bowing ironically -to Agatha, "who might well have refrained from making me crawl at your -feet, whose share in the catastrophe by the <i>Destatore's</i> Cross is now -very clear in my mind, who did not deem me worthy to be informed of the -mischance of your youth, but preferred to pose before my eyes as a -spotless virgin, caring not whether you caused me to pine away in -frenzied anticipation of your priceless favors—I wish that you may be -happy and forget what has taken place between us; but I shall remember -it, and I warn you, signora, that you gave a ball over a volcano, in -reality as well as figuratively." -</p> -<p> -As he spoke, the Piccinino threw his cloak over his head and shoulders, -walked into the boudoir, and not deigning to wait for the door to be -opened, leaped through one of the large panes of glass into the -flower-garden. Then he returned to the door leading into the passage, -which he had not chosen to pass through, and, after the manner of the -authors of the Sicilian Vespers, cut with his dagger a cross over the -crest of the Palmarosas, which was carved on that door. A few moments -later he was on the mountain, flying like an arrow. -</p> -<p> -"O mother!" cried Michel, passionately embracing the horrified Agatha, -"you have made an implacable enemy in order to preserve me from enemies -who, if not imaginary, are powerless! Dear, adored mother, I will never -leave you again, by day or night. I will sleep across your door, and if -your son's love is helpless to preserve you, it will be because -Providence abandons mankind altogether!" -</p> -<p> -"My child," said Agatha, pressing him to her heart, "have no fear. I am -sorely distressed by all that that man has brought back to my mind, but -not alarmed by his unreasonable anger. The secret of your birth could -not safely have been revealed to him any sooner, for you see the effect -that revelation produced upon him. But the time has come when I have -nothing to fear, so far as you are concerned, save his personal -resentment, and that we will find a way to disarm. The vengeance of the -Palmarosas will die out with Cardinal Hieronimo's last breath, which it -may be that he is breathing at this very moment. If it was an error to -turn that vengeance aside by the help of Carmelo, that error is -chargeable to Fra Angelo, who thinks that he knows mankind because he -has always lived with men outside the pale of society, brigands and -monks. But I trust still to his marvellous instinct. This man, who has -just shown himself to us in such an evil light, and whom I cannot look -upon without the most intense suffering, because he reminds me of the -author of all my misfortunes, is not unworthy perhaps of the generous -impulse which led you to call him brother. He is a tiger in his wrath, a -fox in his reflections; but between his hours of rage and his hours of -treachery, there may be intervals of prostration when human feelings -resume their sway and extort from him tears of regret and longing; we -shall be able to reform him, I trust! Kindness and loyal dealing should -find the weak spot in his armor. At the moment that he cursed you, I saw -that he hesitated, forced back his tears. His father—your father, -Michel!—had a profound and intense susceptibility even amid his wild -and wicked habits; I saw him sob at my feet after he had almost -strangled me to stifle my shrieks. Later I saw him at the altar, ashamed -and penitent, when he married me; and despite the abhorrence and terror -with which he always inspired me, I was sorry myself, when he died, that -I had not forgiven him. I trembled at the thought of him, but I never -dared to curse his memory; and since I have had you with me once more, O -my beloved son! I have tried to rehabilitate him in my own eyes, so that -I might not have to condemn him before you. Do not blush, therefore, to -bear the name of a man, whose life was fatal to none but me, and who did -great things for his country. But retain for him who brought you up, and -whose son you have believed yourself to be until this day, the same -love, the same respect which you felt for him this morning, -noble-hearted boy, when you handed him Mila's marriage portion and told -him that you would remain a workman in his service all your life, rather -than abandon him!" -</p> -<p> -"O Pier-Angelo, father!" cried Michel, with a vehemence which caused his -heart to overflow in sobs, "nothing has changed between us, and on the -day when my entrails no longer quiver for you with filial affection, I -think that I shall have ceased to live!" -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap45"></a>XLV -<br><br> -MEMORIES</h4> - -<p> -Agatha was completely shattered by so much agitation and fatigue. Her -health was delicate although her spirit was strong, and when Michel saw -how pale she was, and that her voice had become almost inaudible, he was -terrified. He began to be conscious of the loving and poignant anxiety -born of a sentiment that was altogether new to him. He had hardly known -the love that a child feels for its mother. Pier-Angelo's wife had been -kind to him, to be sure, but he had lost her when he was very young, and -she had left on his memory the impression of a robust and domineering -virago, irreproachable in her conduct, but somewhat violent, and, -although devoted to her little ones, inclined to talk loud and strike -hard. What a contrast to that exquisite disposition, that soft beauty, -that poetic creature who was called Agatha, and whom Michel could admire -as the ideal of an artist while adoring her as a mother! -</p> -<p> -He begged her to lie down and to try to obtain an hour's rest. -</p> -<p> -"I will stay with you," he said; "I will sit by your pillow, I shall be -perfectly happy, just looking at you, and you will find me here when you -open your eyes." -</p> -<p> -"But this will be the third night that you will have passed almost -without sleep," she said. "Ah! how it pains me on your account to think -of the life we have been leading for several days past!" -</p> -<p> -"Do not worry about me, darling mother," replied the young man, covering -her hands with kisses. "I have slept a good deal in the morning these -three days; and now I am so happy, notwithstanding what we have just -gone through, that it seems to me that I shall never sleep again. I -tried to sleep in order to see you again in my dreams: now that the -dream has become reality, I should be afraid of losing it if I slept. -But you must rest, mother.—Ah! how sweet that name mother is!" -</p> -<p> -"I am no more inclined to sleep than you are," she said; "I would like -not to leave you for an instant. And as the thought of the Piccinino -still makes me tremble for your life, you shall remain with me until -daylight, whatever the consequences. I will lie down on the bed, as you -insist upon it; sit in this easy chair, with your hand in mine, and if I -haven't the strength to talk to you, I can at all events listen to you; -we have so many things to say to each other! I want to know about your -life from the first day that you can remember down to this moment." -</p> -<p> -They passed in this way two hours, which seemed to them like two -minutes; Michel told her the whole story of his life, and did not -conceal even his recent emotions. The passionate attachment which he had -felt for his mother before he knew her no longer raised in his mind any -question too delicate to be translated by words befitting the sanctity -of their new relations. The words he had used to himself had assumed a -new meaning, and whatever impropriety there might have been in them had -vanished like the incoherent words one utters in fever, which leave no -trace when health and reason have returned. -</p> -<p> -Moreover, except for a few outbursts of vanity, Michel had had no -thoughts for which he need blush now upon searching his conscience. He -had believed that she loved him, and therein he was hardly in error! He -had been assailed by an ardent passion, and he felt that he loved -Agatha, now that she had become his mother, with no less warmth, -gratitude, even jealousy, than an hour earlier. He could understand now -why he had never seen her without feeling that his heart went out to her -with irresistible force, without an all-powerful attraction, a secret -thrill of pride which had its echo in himself. He remembered that, when -he first saw her, it seemed to him that her face had always been -familiar to him; and when he asked her to explain that miracle, she -replied: "Look in the mirror, and you will see that my features placed -your own image before you; this resemblance, which Pier-Angelo -constantly observed with delight, and which filled my heart with pride, -made me tremble for you. Luckily nobody has noticed it, unless possibly -the cardinal, who ordered his bearers to stop so that he could look at -you, on the day that you arrived in the neighborhood, and, as if guided -by an invisible hand, paused at the gate of your ancestor's palace. My -uncle was formerly the most suspicious and most keen-eyed of persecutors -and despots. Certainly, if he had seen you before he was stricken with -paralysis, he would have recognized you and have had you cast into prison, -then exiled—perhaps assassinated!—without putting a single -question to you. Enfeebled as he was ten days ago, he fastened upon you -a glance which aroused the suspicions of Abbé Ninfo, and his memory -revived so far as to lead him to inquire your age. Who knows what fatal -light might have found its way into his brain, if Providence had not -inspired you to answer that you were twenty-one years old instead of -eighteen!" -</p> -<p> -"I am eighteen," said Michel, "and you, mother? You seem to me as young -as I am." -</p> -<p> -"I am thirty-two," replied Agatha; "didn't you know?" -</p> -<p> -"No! if I had been told that you were my sister, I should have believed -it when I saw you. Oh! what good fortune that you are still so young and -so lovely! You will live as long as I do, won't you? I shall not have -the misfortune to lose you! Lose you!—Ah! now that my life is bound -to yours, the thought of death frightens me, I would like to die neither -before nor after you. But is this the first time that we have ever been -together? I am searching the vague memories of my infancy in the hope of -finding some trace of you." -</p> -<p> -"My poor child," said the princess, "I never saw you before the day -when, as I looked at you through a window of the gallery where you were -sleeping, I could not restrain a cry of love and of agonizing joy, which -woke you. Three months ago I did not even know of your existence. I -believed that you died on the day you were born. Otherwise, do you -suppose that I would not have come to Rome, in some disguise or other, -to take you in my arms and rescue you from the dangers of a solitary -life? On the day that Pier-Angelo told me that he had rescued you from -the hands of a villainous midwife, who was about to put you in a -hospital, by order of my parents, that he had fled with you to a foreign -country, and had brought you up as his son, I insisted upon starting for -Rome. I would have done it too, but for the prudence of Fra Angelo, who -pointed out to me that your life would be in danger as long as the -cardinal lived, and that it was better to await his death than to expose -us all to suspicions and investigations. Ah! my son, how horribly I -suffered while I lived alone with the ghastly memories of my youth! -Branded from my girlhood, maltreated, secluded and persecuted by my -family, because I would not disclose the name of the man whom I had -consented to marry as soon as the first symptoms of pregnancy appeared; -parted from my child, and cursed for the tears which his alleged death -caused me to shed; threatened with the horror of seeing him killed -before my eyes, when I yielded to the hope that they had deceived -me—the best years of my life passed amid tears of despair and -shudders of horror. -</p> -<p> -"I gave birth to you in this room, Michel on this very spot. It was then -a sort of garret, long unused, which had been transformed into a prison, -in order to conceal the shame of my condition. Nobody knew what had -happened to me! I could hardly have described it, I had hardly -understood it, I was so young and my imagination was so pure. I foresaw -that the truth would bring fresh disasters upon the child I was carrying -within me, and on his father. My governess had died on the day after our -catastrophe, without saying a word, whether because she could not or did -not choose to. No one could extort my secret from me, even during the -pains of childbirth; and when my father and my uncle, standing by my -bed, as pitiless as inquisitors, threatened me with death if I did not -confess what they called my sin, I replied simply that I was innocent -before God, and that it was for Him alone to punish or save the culprit. -Whether or not they ever discovered that I was the wife of Castro-Reale, -I could never find out; his name was never mentioned to me, I was never -questioned concerning him. Nor do I know whether they procured his -assassination, or whether Abbé Ninfo assisted them to surprise him; but -unfortunately I do not think them incapable of it. I know only this, -that at the time of his death, when I had barely recovered from my -confinement, they tried to compel me to marry. Hitherto they had held up -before me as an everlasting punishment, the impossibility of finding a -husband. They took me from my prison, where I had been secluded so -carefully that everyone supposed that I was in the convent at Palermo, -and nothing had transpired out-of-doors. I was rich, fair, and of noble -birth. Twenty suitors came forward. I repelled with horror the idea of -deceiving an honest man, or of confessing my misfortune to a man who was -mean-spirited enough to accept me because of my wealth. My resistance -irritated my father to frenzy. He pretended to take me back to Palermo. -But he brought me back to this room at night, and kept me imprisoned -here for another whole year. -</p> -<p> -"It was a ghastly prison, as stifling as the leads of Venice; for the -sun beat down upon a thin covering of metal, this part of the palace -having never been finished and being roofed over temporarily. I endured -thirst, mosquitoes, neglect, solitude, and lack of the fresh air and -exercise which are so essential to the young. But I did not die, I -contracted no disease, the vital principle was so strong within me. My -father, unwilling to entrust the duty of guarding me to any other -person, fearing that the compassion of his servants would lessen my -sufferings, brought me my food himself; and when his political schemes -kept him away from home for days at a time, I underwent the tortures of -hunger. But I had acquired a stoical firmness of will, and I did not -stoop to complain. I also acquired a certain amount of courage and of -faith during that trial, and I do not rebuke God for having inflicted it -on me. Consciousness of duty and regard for justice are great blessings -for which one cannot pay too high a price!" -</p> -<p> -Agatha, as she spoke, was half reclining, and her voice, feeble at -first, gradually became animated. She raised herself on her elbow, and, -shaking her long black hair, and calling her son's attention with a -gesture to the luxurious apartment in which they were, she continued: -</p> -<p> -"Michel, I pray that material enjoyments and the pride of birth and -fortune may never dazzle you! I have paid dearly for those advantages; -and, in the horrible solitude of this chamber, so bright and cheerful -for us two to-day, I have passed many long sleepless hours, lying on a -wretched pallet, consumed by fever, and asking God why He had not caused -me to be born in a goatherd's cave or on a pirate's ship. I sighed for -liberty, and the lowest of beggars seemed to me more blessed than I. If -I had been poor and obscure, I should have received from my parents -consolation and sympathy in my misfortune; whereas the illustrious -Palmarosas heaped abuse upon their child and accused her of committing a -crime because she would not be compelled to lie, and because she refused -to bolster up the honor of her family by an imposture. I had no books in -my prison; I had received only the most superficial education, and I -utterly failed to understand the persecution of which I was the object. -But, during that tedious and cruel inaction, I reflected, and I -discovered for myself the emptiness of human pride. My moral being was -transformed, so to speak, and everything that gratifies and enhances the -vanity of men appeared to me, at my own expense, in its true light. -</p> -<p> -"But why should I say at my expense rather than to my advantage? What -are two years of torture compared with the blessing of truth? When I -returned to liberty and life, when I found that I readily recovered the -vigor of youth, and that I had the necessary time and means to benefit -by the ideas that had come to me, a great calmness overspread my heart, -and I voluntarily adopted the habit, theretofore forced upon me, of -self-denial and resolution. -</p> -<p> -"I renounced forever all idea of love and marriage. The thought of that -bliss was marred and sullied in my imagination; and as for the cravings -of the heart, there was no longer anything individual in mine. They had -extended beyond the circle of selfish passions; I had conceived in my -suffering one genuine passion, the object of which was not the enjoyment -and triumph of one human being standing apart from the general misery by -virtue of her own prosperity. That passion, which consumed me like a -fever, and I may say with feverish intensity, was the longing to fight -for the weak against their oppressors, and to be as lavish of -benefactions and consolation as my family had been of persecution and -dread. I had been brought up to respect and fear the court, to detest -and distrust my unhappy countrymen. Had it not been for my own -catastrophe I should probably have followed those precepts and examples -of hideous cruelty. My heedless nature, wherein I resembled the women of -my country, might never have conceived anything better than the -principles of my family, which was not one of those that were subjected -to persecution, and in which exile and suffering have inspired horror of -the foreign yoke and love of country. My kinsmen, being ardently devoted -to the ruling powers, had always been overwhelmed with favors, and the -renewed prosperity which we shall soon owe to the cardinal's inheritance -makes us a shameful exception among the many illustrious families whom I -have seen ground into the dust by exorbitant taxes and by outlawry. -</p> -<p> -"I was no sooner mistress of my actions and my property than I devoted -my life to the relief of the unfortunate. As a woman I was debarred from -taking an interest in politics, the social sciences or philosophy. And -indeed what man can possibly do it under the yoke that is crushing us? -But what I could do was to assist the victims of tyranny, to whatever -class they might belong. I soon found that their number was so great -that my income would not suffice, even if I deprived myself of the -necessaries of life. Thereupon my mind was soon made up. I had -determined not to marry. I was ignorant of your existence, and I looked -upon myself as alone in the world. I caused an exact statement of my -fortune to be prepared—a precaution which the wealthy patricians of -our province very rarely take; their indifference keeps them from visiting -their estates when they are in the interior of the island, and many have -never set foot upon them. I investigated my property and made myself -familiar with it; first of all, I sold a part in small lots, intending -to supply the poor people of these regions with a little land at a very -low price, in a majority of cases for nothing. That was unsuccessful. A -people that has fallen into the lowest stage of poverty and slavery -cannot be saved with a stroke of the pen. I tried other methods which I -will describe to you in detail at another time. They failed. Everything -is bound to fail when the laws of a country have decreed its ruin. I had -no sooner made a family happy, than the taxes, increasing with its -prosperity, made a poverty-stricken family of it. How can order and -stability be secured when the state seizes sixty per cent of the income -of the humble workingman as well as of the idle rich man? -</p> -<p> -"Thus I learned, with profound sorrow, that in conquered and downtrodden -countries there is no resource but almsgiving, and I devoted my life to -that. It required much more activity and perseverance than gifts -outright and sacrifices of capital. This life of small benefactions and -constant sacrifices is a task without respite, without limits and -without recompense; for almsgiving affords only a momentary remedy; it -creates the necessity of being repeated and extended ad infinitum, and -one never sees the result of the toil one imposes upon oneself. Oh! how -cruel it is to live and love when one dresses every hour a wound that -cannot be healed, when one unceasingly casts one's heart and strength -into a pit which can no more be filled than the crater of Ætna! -</p> -<p> -"I accepted this task, and I devote all my time to it; I realize its -inefficiency, and I am not discouraged. I no longer cry out against -sloth, debauchery and all the vices that poverty engenders; or, if I do, -my anger is no longer against those who acquire these vices but against -those who impose them and perpetuate them. I do not quite understand -what is meant by discernment in almsgiving. That is all very well for -free countries, where a reprimand may serve some purpose, and where the -precepts of practical morality are for the use of all men. Among us, -alas! misery is so widespread that good and evil are to many persons of -mature years words devoid of sense; and to preach orderliness, honesty -and prudence, amid suffering and hunger, is almost ferocious pedantry. -</p> -<p> -"My income has not always been sufficient to meet so many calls, Michel, -and you will find your mother's fortune secretly undermined by -excavations of such depth that it may perhaps crumble on my grave. Were -it not for the cardinal's inheritance, I should regret to-day that I had -not saved for you sufficient means to serve your country as you will; -but to-morrow you will be richer than I have ever been, and you will -administer your fortune according to your principles and the dictates of -your heart. I shall impose no task upon you. To-morrow you will enter -into possession of this great power, and I shall not be at all disturbed -as to the use you may make of it. I am sure of you. You have been -brought up in a good school, my son—the school of poverty and -toil! I know how you repair trivial faults; I know of what sacrifices -your heart is capable when it is at odds with a consciousness of duty. -Prepare, therefore, to bear the burden of your misfortune—to be a -prince in fact as well as in name. Within three days you have embarked -upon what seem to be strange adventures; you have received more than one -valuable lesson. Fra Angelo, the Marquis della Serra, Magnani—even -Mila, the sweet child—have spoken to you in a language which has -made a profound impression on you, I know. I saw it in your conduct, in -your determination to remain an artisan; and from that moment I promised -myself that I would disclose to you the secret of your destiny, even -though the cardinal should live on and compel us to take extraordinary -precautions." -</p> -<p> -"O mother, how noble you are! and how little people know you when they -think that you are a mere devotee, apathetic or eccentric? Your life is -the life of a saint or martyr: nothing for yourself, everything for -others!" -</p> -<p> -"Do not give me so much credit, my child," replied Agatha. "Innocent as -I was, I had no claim to share in the general happiness. I was borne -down by a fatality which all my efforts had succeeded only in making -more burdensome. By denying myself love, I was simply fulfilling the -plainest duty that honor imposes upon a woman. So, too, in becoming a -sister of charity I obeyed the imperative outcry of my conscience. I had -been unfortunate; I knew unhappiness by personal experience; I was no -longer one of those who can refuse to credit the sufferings of others -because they have never suffered themselves. I may, perhaps, have done -good without judgment; at all events, I have done it without remission -and with the utmost zeal. But, in my eyes, to do good does not amount to -so much as is generally supposed. To do good in this way is simply not -to do evil; not to be selfish means simply that one is not blind nor -detestable. I have such unbounded pity for those who are vain of their -good works, that I have hidden mine almost as sedulously as I kept the -secret of my marriage and your birth. My character has never been -understood. I did not wish that it should be. So that I have no right to -complain of having been misjudged." -</p> -<p> -"Ah! but I know you," said Michel, "and my heart will repay you a -hundredfold for all the happiness of which you have been deprived." -</p> -<p> -"I know it," she replied. "Your tears prove it, and I feel it; for, -since you have been with me, I should have forgotten that I had ever -been unhappy, if I had not had my story to tell you." -</p> -<p> -"Thank you, mother, but do not say that you leave me at liberty to do as -I please. I am only a child, and I feel so insignificant beside you that -I never desire to see anything except through your eyes, or to act -except by your orders. I will help you to carry the burden of wealth and -of almsgiving, but I will be your man of business—nothing more. I, a -rich man and a prince! I, endowed with any sort of authority when you -are here! when I am your son!" -</p> -<p> -"My child, you must be a man. I have not had the happiness of bringing -you up; I could have done it no better than worthy Pier-Angelo. It is my -business now to love you—nothing more—and that is enough. To -justify my love, you will not need to have your ancestors' portraits say -to you: '<i>I am not pleased with you</i>.'—You will so conduct -yourself that your mother will always say to you: '<i>I am pleased with -you</i>.' But listen, Michel! the bells are tolling; all the bells in -the city are tolling the knell of a dying man, and it must be some great -personage. It is your kinsman—your enemy—Cardinal Palmarosa, -who is about to be called to account by God for his crimes. It is -daylight, and we must part. Go and pray to God to be merciful to him. I -go to receive his last breath!" -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap46"></a>XLVI -<br><br> -GLADNESS OF HEART</h4> - -<p> -While the princess rang for her maid and ordered her horses, that she -might go and pay her last respects to the moribund cardinal, Michel went -down into the park from the flower garden by the staircase cut in the -lava; but, when he was only halfway down, he spied Master Barbagallo, -who was already on his feet and beginning his conscientious day's work, -very far from believing, the excellent man, that that splendid palace -and those beautiful gardens were no longer aught save the deceptive -symbol and the vain simulacrum of a handsome fortune. In his eyes to -expend one's income in almsgiving was a lordly and estimable custom. He -seconded the princess zealously in her charitable work. But to encroach -upon one's capital was a heinous sin, inconsistent with the hereditary -dignity of a great name; and, if Agatha had enlightened him or consulted -him in that respect, all his genealogical learning would have been none -too much to prove to her that no Palmarosa had ever committed that crime -of lèse-nobility, unless at the bidding of his king. What! deprive -oneself of the real source of one's power for the benefit of miserable -wretches! Fie! unless it were a question of founding a hospital or a -monastery, monuments which endure, and which transmit the renown and -virtue of the founder to posterity, and impart new glory to a name -instead of dimming its lustre. -</p> -<p> -Michel, when he saw the majordomo innocently blocking his path—for -Barbagallo was gazing fixedly at an East India shrub which he had -planted with his own hands at the foot of the staircase—determined to -lower his head and pass rapidly on without any explanation. A few hours -later, he would have no motive for concealment, but, for propriety's -sake, it would be much better to await the princess's public -declaration. -</p> -<p> -But the majordomo seemed to be planted beside his shrub. He was -surprised that the climate of Catania, which, according to him, was the -most salubrious climate in the world, did not agree with that rare plant -better than the climate of the tropics; which fact proves that he -understood the cultivation of genealogical trees better than that of -real trees. He was stooping—almost lying oh the ground—to see -if some destructive worm had not attacked the roots of the languishing -plant. -</p> -<p> -Michel, having reached the lowest stair, decided to leap over Master -Barbagallo, who uttered a loud yell, thinking perhaps that it was the -beginning of a volcanic eruption, and that a stone vomited forth by some -near-by crater had fallen beside him. -</p> -<p> -His exclamation had such a comical, rancous sound that Michel laughed -heartily. -</p> -<p> -"<i>Cristo</i>!" cried the majordomo, as he recognized the young artist, -whom the princess had ordered him to treat with great consideration, but -whom he was very far from believing to be Agatha's son or lover. -</p> -<p> -But, when his first fright had passed, he tried to collect his thoughts, -while Michel walked swiftly across the park. He awoke to the fact that -Pier-Angelo's son had come from the flower garden before sunrise; from -the princess's flower garden! that private, fortified sanctuary, to -which none but a favored lover could gain an entrance at night! -</p> -<p> -"Princess Agatha have a lover! and such a lover! when the Marquis della -Serra, who is hardly worthy to aspire to the honor of winning her favor, -never goes in or out except by the principal door of the palace!" -</p> -<p> -That was an impossible supposition. So Master Barbagallo, having no -means of denying so palpable a fact, and not presuming to comment upon -it, limited himself to a frequent repetition of the word <i>Cristo</i>! -And, after standing like a statue for some moments, he concluded to -attend to his duties as usual, and to forbid himself to think upon any -subject whatsoever until further orders. -</p> -<p> -Michel was hardly less surprised by his own situation than the majordomo -by what he had seen. Of all the dreams he had dreamed in the last three -days, the most unexpected, the most prodigious, beyond any question, was -this one that had crowned and elucidated the others. He walked straight -ahead, and the instinct born of habit guided him toward his father's -house in the suburb, although he had no idea where he was going. Every -object upon which his eyes rested seemed new and strange to him. The -magnificence of the palaces and the squalor of the houses of the common -people presented a contrast which hitherto had saddened him only as a -condition by which he himself had to suffer, and which he had accepted -as an inevitable law of society. Now that he felt that he was a free and -powerful member of that society, compassion and kindliness poured into -his heart, broader and less selfish than before. He felt that he was a -better man since he had been numbered among the fortunate few, and the -consciousness of the duty resting upon him vibrated in his breast under -the impulsion of his mother's generous breath. He felt that he had -increased in size among his fellowmen since he had been charged with -ameliorating their lot instead of being oppressed by them. In a word, he -felt himself every inch a prince, and was no longer surprised that he -had always been ambitious. But his ambition had assumed a nobler shape -in his mind on the day that he had put it into words in answer to -Magnani's criticisms; and now that it was gratified, far from debasing -him, it exalted him and raised him above himself. There are men—and, -unfortunately, they are in the majority—whom prosperity degrades and -perverts; but a truly noble mind sees in the power of wealth only a -means of doing good, and eighteen years is an age at which the ideals -are pure and the mind open to grand and worthy aspirations. -</p> -<p> -As he entered the suburb, he saw a poor woman begging, with one child in -her arms and three others clinging to her ragged skirts. Tears came to -his eyes, and he put both hands in the pockets of his jacket, for on the -day before he had assumed the livery of the common people, resolved to -continue to wear it a long time—always if he must. But he found that -his pockets were empty, and he remembered that as yet he possessed -nothing. -</p> -<p> -"Forgive me, my poor woman," he said, "to-morrow I will give you -something. Be here to-morrow, I will come again." -</p> -<p> -The poor creature thought that he was making sport of her, and said to -him in a solemn tone, drawing herself up in her rags with the majesty of -the southern peoples: "You must not make sport of the poor, my boy; it -brings bad luck." -</p> -<p> -"Yes, yes!" said Michel, as he walked away; "I believe it, I am sure of -it! that shall never happen to me." -</p> -<p> -A little farther on he met some laundresses who were coolly hanging -their linen on a line stretched across the street, over the heads of the -passers-by. Michel stooped, as he would not have done the day before; he -would have thrust the obstacle aside with an impatient hand. The two -pretty girls who held the line to keep it taut were grateful to him and -smiled upon him; but when Michel had passed this first curtain of the -<i>biancheria</i>, and as he stooped to pass under a second, he heard the -old laundress say to her apprentices in the tone of an angry sibyl: "Lower -your eyes, Ninetta; don't turn your head like that, Rosalina! that's -little Michelangelo Lavoratori, who sets himself up for a great painter, -but he will never be the man his father is! A fig for children who turn -up their noses at their father's trade!" -</p> -<p> -"I absolutely must adopt the profession of prince," thought Michel with -a smile, "for the profession of artist would have drawn too much blame -upon me." -</p> -<p> -He entered his house, and for the first time it seemed to him -picturesque and attractive in its wretched disorder. "It is a genuine -artist's house of the Middle Ages," he said to himself; "I have lived -here only a few days, but I shall always remember them as among the -sweetest and purest days of my life." It seemed to him that he already -regretted that humble family nest, and the vague longing he had felt the -day before for a less prosaic, a more splendid abode seemed to him an -unhealthy, insane longing, so true it is that one exaggerates the value -of the good things of life when one has them not. -</p> -<p> -"I could have passed years here very comfortably," he thought, "as happy -as I shall be in a palace, provided that my conscience was always as -well satisfied with itself as it was when Pier-Angelo said to me: 'Well, -you are a man of heart, that you are!' All the portraits of the -Palmarosas and Castro-Reales may tell me that they are pleased with me; -they will afford me no more joy than those words from my father the -artisan." -</p> -<p> -He entered as a prince that house from which he had gone forth an -artisan but a few hours earlier, and he crossed the threshold with a -feeling of profound respect. Then he hurried to his father's bedside, -thinking to find him asleep. But Pier-Angelo was with Mila, who had not -slept at all she was so disturbed because her brother had not returned. -The old man suspected that the princess had kept him; but he was unable -to make Mila assent to the probability of that supposition. Michel threw -himself into their arms and wept tears of joy. Pier-Angelo understood -what had taken place, and why the young Prince of Castro-Reale called -him <i>father</i> so effusively, and would not allow him to call him -Michel, but made him say <i>my son</i> whenever he spoke. -</p> -<p> -Mila was greatly surprised when Michel, instead of embracing her with -his usual familiarity, kissed her hand again and again, calling her his -darling sister. -</p> -<p> -"What's the matter, Michel?" she said, "and why this act of respect with -me? You say that nothing extraordinary has happened, that you have been -in no danger during the night, and yet you bid us good-morning like a -man who has just escaped death, or who brings us paradise in the hollow -of his hand. Well, well! now that you are here, we are as happy as the -saints in heaven, it is true! for I had many bad dreams while I was -waiting for you. I woke poor Magnani two hours before daylight and sent -him in search of you; and he is searching still. He must have gone to -Bel Passo, to see if you were not with our uncle." -</p> -<p> -"Dear, good Magnani!" cried Michel; "I will go out and find him, in -order to set your mind at rest and to see him the sooner. But first I -want to breakfast with you two at our cosy little table; I want to eat -some of the rice that you cook so deliciously, Mila, and the water-melon -that nobody can select so well as you." -</p> -<p> -"See how sweet he is whenever he doesn't choose to be capricious!" said -Mila, looking at her brother. "When he is in one of his fits of temper, -nothing is good, the rice is cooked too much and the water-melons are -over-ripe. To-day everything is delicious, even before he tastes it." -</p> -<p> -"I shall be like this every day henceforth, my darling sister," said -Michel; "I shall have no more bad temper, I shall ask you no more -impertinent questions, and I trust that you will have no better friend -in the world than me." -</p> -<p> -As soon as he was alone with Pier-Angelo, Michel knelt before him. "Give -me your blessing," he said, "and forgive me for not having been worthy -of you always. I will be hereafter, and if I should hesitate a moment on -the path of duty, promise that you will scold me and lecture me more -severely than you have ever done." -</p> -<p> -"Prince," said Pier-Angelo, "I should have been more severe perhaps if I -had been your father; but—" -</p> -<p> -"O father," cried Michel, "never call me by that name, and never say -that I am not your son. Of course I am the happiest of men to be -Princess Agatha's son, but it would be mingling gall with my happiness -to try to accustom myself to the thought that I am not yours; and if you -call me prince, I will never be one; I will insist on remaining a -mechanic!" -</p> -<p> -"Very well, so be it!" said Pier-Angelo, embracing him; "let us continue -to be father and son, as we were; I like that better, especially as I -should cling to the old habits in spite of myself, even if you had been -offended. Now, listen; I know beforehand what you will say to me in a -moment. You will want to make me a rich man. I want to say to you -beforehand that I beg you not to torment me on that subject. I prefer to -remain as I am; I am very happy. Money brings anxiety; I have never been -able to keep it. The princess will do what she thinks best for your -sister; but I doubt whether the little one cares to rise above her -condition, for if I am not mistaken, she is in love with our neighbor, -Antonio Magnani, and has no idea of marrying anybody else. Magnani will -not consent to accept anything from you, I know; he is a man like me, -who loves his trade and would blush to be assisted when he earns all he -needs. Don't be angry, my son; I accepted your sister's marriage-portion -yesterday. That was not the gift of a prince, it was the wages of a -workman, the sacrifice of a loving brother. I was proud of it, and your -sister, when she knows about it, won't be ashamed; but I did not think -it best to tell her yet. She would never have accepted it, she is so -accustomed to look upon your artistic future as a sacred thing; and the -child is obstinate, as you know. -</p> -<p> -"As for me, Michel, you know me too. If I were rich, I should be ashamed -to work. People would think I did it from avarice, and to add a little -to my savings. Nor could I work if I were not driven to it; I am a -creature of habit, a routine workman; every day would be Sunday to me, -and it would be as injurious for me to amuse myself all the week as it -is advantageous for me to enjoy myself a little at table on the blessed -day of rest. Ennui would lay hold of me, and melancholy after that. I -should try to escape from it by intemperance perhaps, as most men do who -don't know how to read and so can't keep up their spirits with beautiful -written stories. But one must feed one's brain when the body is at rest, -and they feed it with wine. That is worse than nothing, I know by -experience. When I go to a wedding festival I enjoy myself the first -day, I am bored the second, and sick the third. No, no! I must have my -apron, my ladder, my glue-pot, and my ballads, or each hour seems as -long as two. If you blush for me—But no, I won't finish, it is -insulting to you; you will never blush for me. In that case, let me live -as I please, and when I am too old and feeble to work, you shall take me -in and take care of me; I agree to that, I give you my word on it. I can -do nothing better for you, I am sure." -</p> -<p> -"Your wishes shall be sacred to me," Michel replied, "and I realize -fully that it is impossible for me to pay my debt to you with money; it -would be altogether too easy to be able to liquidate a debt running -through one's whole lifetime in an instant and without the slightest -trouble. Ah! if I could only double the duration of your life, and -restore, at the expense of my blood, the strength you have expended in -supporting and educating me!" -</p> -<p> -"Do not hope to pay me otherwise than by affection," replied the old -decorator. "Youth cannot return, and I desire nothing that is contrary -to the divine laws. If I have worked for you, I have done it with -pleasure and without ever relying upon any other reward than that of -seeing you make a wise use of your good fortune. The princess knows my -way of thinking in that respect. If she should pay me for your -education, she would deprive me of all my merit and pride; for I have a -certain pride of my own, and I shall be proud to hear people say as they -will before long: 'What a loyal Sicilian and good prince this -Castro-Reale is! And yet it was that old fool of a Pier-Angelo who -brought him up.' Come, give me your hand, and let us say no more about -it. It would hurt me a little, I confess. It seems that the cardinal is -dying. I want you to say a prayer with me for him, for he needs it -sadly; he was a wicked man, and the woman who was taking you to the -hospital, when my brother the monk and I snatched you from her arms, -looked as if she would much rather throw you into the sea than into the -orphan's crib. So let us pray with a good heart! Come, Michel, it won't -be long." -</p> -<p> -And Pier-Angelo, uncovering, said in a loud voice and in a tone of the -deepest sincerity: "O my God! forgive us our sins, and forgive Cardinal -Hieronimo, as we ourselves forgive him. In the name of the Father, the -Son, and the Holy Ghost, Amen.—Michel, you didn't say <i>amen</i>, -did you?" -</p> -<p> -"Amen, with all my heart," replied Michel, filled with respect for the -artless piety with which Pier-Angelo forgave his persecutor. -</p> -<p> -For Monsignor Hieronimo had been very cruel to the poor mechanic. He had -had only suspicions against him, and yet he had prosecuted him, thrown -him into prison, ruined him, and finally forced him to exile himself, -which last was the greatest sorrow that could have been inflicted upon -honest Pier-Angelo. -</p> -<p> -As Mila was beginning to be anxious concerning Magnani, who did not -return, Michel started out in search of him. All the bells in the city -were tolling for the dying cardinal; prayers were being said in all the -churches, and the poor people who were oppressed, held to ransom and -punished by him at the slightest symptom of rebellion, knelt devoutly on -the steps of the churches to ask God to absolve him. Doubtless one and -all rejoiced inwardly at the first stroke of the bell, and would rejoice -still more at the last. But the terrors of hell acted so powerfully on -those vivid imaginations that mortal resentment vanished in face of the -threat which those clanging bells seemed to hold suspended over every -head. -</p> -<p> -Michel, as he did not hear the final knell announcing that death had -seized his prey, and, as he felt sure that his mother would not leave -the deathbed until that decisive moment had arrived, bent his steps -toward the hill of Mal Passo. He wished to embrace his friend and his -uncle once more before they saluted him as Prince of Castro-Reale. He -dreaded especially the moment when Magnani would put on the armor of -pride, and perhaps of coldness, in his unjust fear of contemptuous -treatment by Michel. He was determined to stipulate in advance for the -continuance of their friendship, to demand his solemn promise to that -effect, and to inform him first of all of his new position after he had -cemented that sacred brotherhood in Fra Angelo's presence. -</p> -<p> -And then, too, Michel thought of the Piccinino. He said to himself that -it was not so far from the convent to Nicolosi that he could not go and -visit his brother before he had taken any measures against the princess -and himself. He could not make up his mind to defy and await schemes of -revenge which might attack his mother before himself; and, though he -should find the bastard in a paroxysm of rage worse than that in which -he had last seen him, he looked upon it as his duty as a man and a son -to meet alone its first consequences. -</p> -<p> -On the way Michel remembered that he was a painter on seeing the rising -sun illumine the landscape. A feeling of profound sadness suddenly took -possession of him. His artistic future seemed to be at an end, and as he -passed the gate of Villa Palmarosa—as he glanced at that niche -with its madonna, from which he had saluted the steeples of Catania for -the first time—his heart was heavy, as if twenty years, instead of -half as many days, had elapsed between this dénouement of his life and -his adventurous youth, overflowing with poetic aspirations, with fears -and hopes. The absolute security of his new position frightened him, and -he asked himself in dismay if a painter's genius would not be -inadequately accommodated in the brain of a rich man and a prince. What -would become of ambition, wrath, terror, the frenzy for work, obstacles -to be overcome, triumphs to be defended—those powerful and -necessary stimulants? Instead of enemies to spur him on, he would have -only flatterers to corrupt his judgment and his taste; instead of -poverty to force him to hard work and to sustain him in the fever of -composition, he would be surfeited in advance with all the advantages -which art pursues at least as eagerly as it pursues renown. -</p> -<p> -He heaved a deep sigh, but soon took courage, saying to himself that he -would prove himself worthy to have friends who would tell him the truth, -and that, while pursuing that nobler object—renown—he could -renounce more completely the material profits of the profession and the -vulgar judgment of the multitude. -</p> -<p> -Reflecting thus, he reached the monastery. The bells were ringing in -response to those of the city, and that monotonous and depressing -dialogue was carried on in the crisp morning air amid the songs of the -birds and the murmuring of the breezes. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap47"></a>XLVII -<br><br> -THE VULTURE</h4> - -<p> -Magnani knew all, for Agatha had at least suspected his passion, if she -had not actually divined it; and she had told him the story of her life. -She had described her blighted, desolate past, and her present, devoted -to serious pursuits and absorbed by maternal affections. By thus -displaying her confidence in him and her regard for him, she had at all -events healed the secret wound inflicted upon his plebeian pride. She -had with delicate tact pointed out to him that the obstacle between them -was not the difference in rank and in their ideas, but the difference -between their ages and the decree of an inflexible destiny. In a word, -she had raised him to her own level by treating him as a brother, and if -she had not effected a complete cure at the first attempt, she had -removed all the bitterness of his suffering. Then she had adroitly -brought Mila's name into the conversation, and, when he realized that -the princess desired their union, Magnani had deemed it to be his duty -to comply with her desire. -</p> -<p> -That duty he determined to set about performing at once, and he fully -appreciated the fact that Agatha, to punish him for his madness, had -pointed out to him the easiest, not to say the most delightful of -expiations. As he had not shared Mila's uneasiness with respect to -Michel's absence, he had gone out simply to please her, with no idea -that there was any need of going in search of him. He had called upon -Fra Angelo, to consult him concerning the girl's sentiments, and to ask -for his advice and support. When he reached the monastery, the monks -were reciting prayers for the cardinal's soul, and he was obliged to -wait in the garden, with its paths of earthenware and its borders of -lava, until Fra Angelo could come to him. The doleful chanting depressed -him, and he could not avoid a presentiment of evil to come as he thought -that he was cherishing the hope of a happy betrothal in the midst of a -funeral ceremony. -</p> -<p> -On the preceding evening, before he parted from Pier-Angelo on their -return from the Della Serra palace, he had sounded the old artisan -concerning his daughter's feelings. Pier-Angelo, delighted by that -overture, had ingenuously replied that he believed that she loved him; -but as Magnani distrusted his good fortune, and hardly dared hope, -Pier-Angelo had advised him to consult his brother the Capuchin, whom, -although younger than himself, he was accustomed to look upon as the -head of the family. -</p> -<p> -Magnani was very uncertain and disturbed in mind. And yet a mysterious -voice told him that Mila loved him. He recalled her furtive glances, her -sudden blushes, her concealed tears, her deathly pallor, aye, and her -words, which denoted an affectation of indifference prompted by pride. -He hoped; he awaited impatiently the end of the prayers, and when Fra -Angelo joined him he begged him to give him his attention, to advise -him, and above all things to tell him the truth without concealment. -</p> -<p> -"This is a serious matter," the good monk replied; "I have always had -the friendliest feeling for your family, my son, and a very high regard -for you. But are you sure that you know me and love me well enough to -believe me if the advice that I give you is contrary to your secret -desires? For we monks are often consulted, and very little heed is paid -to our counsel. Everyone comes and confides his thoughts and passions, -even his business affairs to us, because it is commonly supposed that -men with no direct interest in life have a keener insight than others. -That is a mistake. In most cases our advice is either too complaisant to -be worth following or so severe that it is impossible to follow it. For -my part I dislike to give advice." -</p> -<p> -"Very well," said Magnani, "if you do not consider me capable of making -the most of your counsel, will you promise to answer, without -hesitation, and with perfect frankness, a question I am going to ask -you?" -</p> -<p> -"Hesitation is not a failing of mine, my friend. But for lack of careful -handling one may inflict much pain on those whom one loves, and do you -want me to be cruel to you? You subject my affection to a painful test!" -</p> -<p> -"You frighten me beforehand, Padre Angelo. It seems to me that you have -already guessed the question I am going to ask you." -</p> -<p> -"Ask it, so that I may see if I am not mistaken." -</p> -<p> -"And you will answer?" -</p> -<p> -"I will answer." -</p> -<p> -"Well," said Magnani, in a trembling voice, "should I do well to ask -your brother to give me Mila's hand?" -</p> -<p> -"Precisely, that is what I expected. My brother has already spoken to me -about it. He thinks that his daughter loves you; he thinks that he has -detected it." -</p> -<p> -"Great God! if it were true!" said Magnani, clasping his hands. -</p> -<p> -But Fra Angelo's face maintained its cold, sad expression. -</p> -<p> -"You do not consider me worthy to be Mila's husband," continued the -modest Magnani. "It is true that I am not, padre; but if you knew how -firmly I have resolved to become worthy!" -</p> -<p> -"My friend," rejoined the monk, "the day on which you should become -Mila's husband, if you love each other fervently and sincerely, would be -the happiest day in Pier-Angelo's life and mine; for we monks know that -a man must love with his whole soul the spouse to whom he gives his -life, whether that spouse be the family or the church. I believe that -you love Mila, since you seek her hand; but I do not know whether Mila -loves you or whether my brother is mistaken." -</p> -<p> -"Alas!" replied Magnani, "nor do I know myself." -</p> -<p> -"You do not know?" said Fra Angelo, drawing his eyebrows together; "she -has never told you so?" -</p> -<p> -"Never!" -</p> -<p> -"But she has granted you some innocent favors, has she not? She has been -alone with you?" -</p> -<p> -"Only by chance or from necessity." -</p> -<p> -"She has never made an appointment with you?" -</p> -<p> -"Never!" -</p> -<p> -"Not yesterday? was she not walking with you, in this neighborhood, last -night at sunset?" -</p> -<p> -"Last night, in this neighborhood?" repeated Magnani, turning pale; "no, -padre." -</p> -<p> -"On your salvation?" -</p> -<p> -"On my salvation and my honor!" -</p> -<p> -"In that case, Magnani, you must not think about Mila. Mila loves -someone, and you are not that some one. And the worst of it is that -neither her father nor I can guess who it is. Would to God that a girl -so devoted to her duties, so hard-working, and down to this very day so -modest, might have taken a fancy to a man like you! You would have -brought up a family nobly, and your union would have edified your -neighbors. But Mila is a child, and a romantic child, I fear. Hereafter -we must watch her more carefully; I will warn her father, and you, being -a man of heart, will say nothing and forget her." -</p> -<p> -"What!" cried Magnani, "can it be that Mila, the personification of -honesty, courage, and innocence, already has a misstep upon her -conscience? Great God! have chastity and truth ceased to exist on -earth?" -</p> -<p> -"I do not say that," the monk replied: "I trust that Mila is still pure; -but she is on the road to her destruction if someone does not hold her -back. Last night, at sunset, she passed here, all alone, and dressed in -her best clothes; she tried to avoid me, she refused to account for -herself, she tried to lie. Ah! I prayed earnestly for her last night, -and I slept but little." -</p> -<p> -"I will keep Mila's secret, and I will think no more about her," said -Magnani, utterly confounded. -</p> -<p> -But he continued to think of her. It was natural to his character, grave -and strong, but incapable of boastful confidence, to go forward to meet -obstacles, and to halt when he reached them, unable to surmount them or -to make up his mind to turn his back upon them. -</p> -<p> -At that moment Michel arrived; he seemed to have undergone a magical -transformation since the preceding day, although he still wore his -artisan's jacket; his forehead and his eyes seemed larger, his nostrils -inhaled the air more freely, his chest seemed to have developed in a -different atmosphere. The pride, the conscious strength, the -tranquillity of the free man shone in his face. -</p> -<p> -"Ah!" said Magnani, throwing himself into the arms the young prince held -out to him, "your dream has come true already, Michel! It was a -beautiful dream! the awakening is still more beautiful. I have been -struggling with a nightmare which your good fortune has driven away, but -which has left me bewildered and crushed by fatigue." -</p> -<p> -Fra Angelo blessed them both, and said, addressing the prince: -</p> -<p> -"I hail with joy your accession to greatness and power, when I see you -embrace a man of the common people of your native country. Michel de -Castro-Reale, Michelangelo Lavoratori, I shall always love you as my -nephew, while loving you as my prince. Will you tell me now, <i>your -excellency</i>, that it is an imposition for those of my class to love and -serve yours?" -</p> -<p> -"Do not remind me of my heresies, my excellent uncle," replied Michel. -"I no longer know to what class I belong; I feel that I am a man and a -Sicilian, that is all." -</p> -<p> -"Long live Sicily!" cried the Capuchin, saluting Ætna. -</p> -<p> -"Long live Sicily!" echoed Michel, saluting Catania. -</p> -<p> -Magnani was deeply moved and his manner was most affectionate. He -rejoiced sincerely in Michel's good fortune; but, for his own part, he -was sorely distressed by the obstacle that had arisen between Mila and -him, and he trembled lest he should fall anew under the empire of his -former passion. But the mother is something more than the woman, and the -thought of Agatha in that new aspect made Magnani's adoration calmer and -more solemn than it had been before. He felt that he should blush in -Michel's presence if he retained the slightest trace of his madness. He -determined to banish it altogether, and, happy in the thought that he -could always say to himself that he had devoted his youth, by a solemn -vow, to the loveliest saint in heaven, he retained her image and her -memory in his heart like a divine perfume. -</p> -<p> -Magnani was cured; but what a sad cure, to renounce, at twenty-five, all -the dreams of love! He was resigned to his fate; but from that moment -life was to him nothing more than a stern and passionless duty. -</p> -<p> -The reveries and torments which had made that duty dear to him no longer -existed. Never was there a man on earth more utterly alone, more -disgusted with all earthly things, than Magnani on the day of his -deliverance. -</p> -<p> -He left Fra Angelo and Michel, who proposed to go at once to Nicolosi, -and passed the rest of the day walking alone by the seashore, opposite -the basaltic isles of Acireale. -</p> -<p> -The young prince and the monk started immediately after making up their -minds to visit the Piccinino. They were approaching the ill-omened -<i>Destatore's</i> Cross when the bells of Catania, changing their rhythm, -rang the knell that announces death. Fra Angelo crossed himself without -stopping; Michel thought of his father, who had perhaps been -assassinated by order of that wicked prelate, and quickened his pace in -order to kneel upon the grave of Castro-Reale. -</p> -<p> -He did not as yet feel the courage to examine that fatal cross, where he -had experienced such painful emotions, even before he knew of the tie of -blood that bound him to the bandit of Ætna. But a huge vulture, -starting up suddenly from the very foot of the cross, forced him -involuntarily to turn his eyes in that direction. For a moment he -thought that he was the victim of a ghastly hallucination. A dead body -lay in a pool of blood at the spot from which the vulture had fled. -</p> -<p> -Frozen with horror, Michel and his uncle drew near and recognized the -body of Abbé Ninfo, half disfigured by pistol shots fired at -point-blank range. The murder had been premeditated or committed with -extraordinary sang-froid, for the perpetrator had taken the time and -trouble to write with chalk, in small letters, close together, on the -black lava pedestal of the cross, this ferociously concise inscription: -</p> -<p> -"Here was found, eighteen years ago to-day, the body of a celebrated -brigand, <i>Il Destatore</i>, Prince of Castro-Reale, the avenger of the -woes of his country. -</p> -<p> -"Here will be found to-day the body of his assassin, Abbé Ninfo, who -has confessed his participation in the crime. So cowardly a champion -would not have dared to strike openly so gallant a man. He led him into -a trap, into which he himself has fallen at last, after eighteen years -of unpunished crimes. -</p> -<p> -"More fortunate than Castro-Reale, who was struck down by slaves, Ninfo -has fallen by the hand of a free man. -</p> -<p> -"If you wish to know who condemned the <i>Destatore</i> and paid for his -murder, ask Satan, who, within an hour, will receive before his tribunal -the wicked soul of Cardinal Hieronimo de Palmarosa. -</p> -<p> -"Do not accuse Castro-Reale's widow: she is innocent. -</p> -<p> -"Michel de Castro-Reale, there is still much blood to be shed before -your father's death is avenged! -</p> -<p> -"He who writes these lines is the bastard of Castro-Reale, whom men call -the Piccinino and the <i>Justicier d'aventure</i>. He it was who killed the -knave Ninfo. He did it at sunrise, to the sound of the bells which -announced the death agony of Cardinal Palmarosa. He did it so that it -may not be thought that all villains can die in their beds. -</p> -<p> -"Let the first man who reads this inscription copy or remember it and -carry it to the people of Catania!" -</p> -<p> -"Let us rub it out," said Michel, "or my brother's audacity will be -fatal to him." -</p> -<p> -"No, let us not rub it out," said the monk. "Your brother is too prudent -not to be far away from here before this, and we have no right to -deprive the nobles and people of Catania of a terrible example and a -bloody lesson. The proud Castro-Reale assassinated! assassinated by the -cardinal! lured into a trap by this vile abbé! Ah! I ought to have -guessed it! He had too much vigor and courage still to stoop to suicide. -Do not accuse your brother of being over severe, Michel, and do not look -upon this vengeance as a mere useless crime. You do not know what your -father was in his good days, his great days. You do not know that he was -on the point of mending his ways and becoming once more the dispenser of -justice on the mountain. He was repentant. He believed in God, he still -loved his country, and he adored your mother. If he could but have lived -as he was living a year more, she would have loved him, and would have -forgiven everything. She would have come and shared his perils, she -would have been the brigand's wife instead of being the prisoner and -victim of his murderers. She would have brought you up herself, she -would never have been parted from you! You would have drunk the milk of -a lioness and you would have grown to manhood in the tempest. Everything -would be better so! Sicily would be nearer its deliverance than it will -be ten years hence; and I should not have continued to be a monk. -Instead of walking up the mountain, with folded arms, to see this body -lying in a corner and the Piccinino flying among the precipices, we -should all be together, rifle in hand, fighting desperately against the -Swiss mercenaries of Naples, and perhaps marching on Catania with the -yellow flag flaunting its golden folds in the morning breeze! Yes, -everything would be better so, I tell you, Prince of -Castro-Reale!—But God's will be done!" added Fra Angelo, -remembering at last that he was a monk. -</p> -<p> -Being certain that the Piccinino must have left the valley long before -the hour named in the inscription as that of the murder, Michel and the -monk went no farther, but retraced their steps from that wild spot where -the abbé's corpse would be at the mercy of the vulture for some hours -to come, before anyone would interrupt his ghastly feast. As they turned -away, they saw the ill-omened bird fly over their heads, returning with -savage eagerness to his prey. -</p> -<p> -"That is the fate you deserved," said the monk, calmly; "to be eaten by -dogs and vultures! that is the malediction which people in all ages have -called down upon spies and traitors. You are very pale, my young prince, -and perhaps you think me very harsh in my judgment of a priest, being -myself a churchman. What can you expect? It may be that I have seen and -done with my own hand, perhaps, more killing than is consistent with the -salvation of my soul! but in conquered countries, you see, war sometimes -has no other resource than murder. Do not think that the Piccinino is -worse than other men. He was born calm and long-suffering; but there are -virtues which would become vices in us Sicilians, if we should cling to -them. Reason and a sense of justice taught him to be a scourge at need. -But you see that his heart is sound at bottom. He is very angry with -your mother, you told me, and you dreaded his vengeance. You see that he -absolves her from the crime which certainly never occurred to that -saint-like woman's mind; you see that he does homage to truth, even in -the heat of his anger; you see, too, that instead of cursing you he -exhorts you to make common cause with him when occasion requires. No, -no, Carmelo is no dastard!" -</p> -<p> -Michel was of the monk's opinion, but he held his peace; it would -require a mighty effort on his part to fraternize with the gloomy mind -of that civilized savage whom men called the Piccinino. He readily -detected the monk's secret predilection for the brigand. In Fra Angelo's -eyes the bastard rather than the prince was the <i>Destatore's</i> son -and the heir of his strong nature. But Michel was too heavily burdened -by the emotions—by turns delicious and painful—which he had -experienced within a few hours, to maintain a conversation on any -subject, and, even if he considered that the Capuchin was too revengeful -and inclined to be too pitiless in his opinions, he did not feel that he -had the right to contradict or even to pass judgment upon a man to whom -he was indebted for the legitimizing of his birth, the saving of his -life, and the joy of knowing his mother. -</p> -<p> -They saw in the distance the cardinal's villa all draped in black. -</p> -<p> -"You too, Michel, will be obliged to wear mourning," said Fra Angelo. -"Carmelo is more fortunate than you at this moment, in not belonging to -society. If he were the Princess of Palmarosa's son, he would have to -wear the false livery of grief—mourning for his father's murderer." -</p> -<p> -"For love of my mother, my dear uncle," replied the prince, "do not -force upon my notice the unpleasant side of my position. At present I -can think of nothing except that I am the son of the noblest and -loveliest and best of women." -</p> -<p> -"That is well, my child, that is well. Forgive me," continued the monk. -"My mind is always in the past; it is always busy with the memory of my -poor murdered captain. Why did I leave him? Why had I turned monk? Ah! I -was a coward too. If I had remained faithful to him in his ill-fortune, -and patient with his vagaries, he never would have fallen into a -wretched ambuscade, and perhaps he would be alive still! He would be -proud and happy to have two sons, both brave and handsome! Ah! -<i>Destatore</i>, <i>Destatore</i>! here am I weeping for you more bitterly -than at first. To learn that you died by another hand than your own is like -losing you again." -</p> -<p> -And the monk, but a moment before so pitiless and unfeeling as he -trampled upon the blood of the traitor, began to weep like a child. The -old soldier, faithful beyond the grave, reappeared in him, and he -embraced Michel, saying: "Comfort me; let me hope that we shall avenge -him!" -</p> -<p> -"Let us hope for Sicily!" replied Michel. "We have something better to -do than perpetuate family quarrels; we have our country to serve! Ah! -our country! That is a word that you had to explain to me yesterday, my -brave soldier, but to-day I understand it perfectly." -</p> -<p> -They exchanged a warm grasp of the hand and entered Villa Palmarosa. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap48"></a>XLVIII -<br><br> -THE MARQUIS</h4> - -<p> -Master Barbagallo awaited them at the gate with a most anxious -countenance. As soon as he saw Michel, he ran to meet him and kneeled to -kiss his hand. -</p> -<p> -"Up, up, sirrah!" said the young prince, disgusted by such servility. -"You have served my mother faithfully. Give me your hand, as befits a -man!" -</p> -<p> -They crossed the park together; but Michel did not choose to receive as -yet the homage of all the servants, who were not likely, however, to be -so annoying as the majordomo; for he followed him everywhere, asking his -forgiveness again and again for the scene at the ball, and striving to -convince him that if the proprieties had permitted him to wear his -spectacles on that occasion, his short-sightedness would not have -prevented him from noticing that Michel resembled, feature for feature, -that mighty captain, Giovanni Palmarosa, deceased in 1288, whose -portrait he had delivered to the Marquis della Serra on the preceding -day, in his, Michel's, presence. -</p> -<p> -"Ah! how I regret," he said, "that the princess has given the marquis -all the Palmarosas! But your highness will surely recover that noble and -priceless portion of your inheritance. I am certain that his excellency -the marquis will restore to you all the ancestors of both families, by -his will, or even sooner." -</p> -<p> -"I think that they do very well where they are," replied Michel, with a -smile. "I am not fond of portraits which have the gift of speech." -</p> -<p> -He made his escape from the majordomo's obsession, and walked to the -cliff in order to enter by way of the Casino. But as he stepped into his -mother's boudoir, he found that Barbagallo was puffing at his heels, -having followed him up the staircase. -</p> -<p> -"Forgive me, your highness," he said, gasping for breath, "her highness -the princess is in the large gallery, among her kinsmen, friends and -retainers, to whom she has just publicly announced her marriage to the -most noble and illustrious prince your father. They are waiting now for -the excellent Fra Angelo, to whom a messenger was sent two hours ago, to -request him to bring from the convent the authentic proofs of the -marriage, which will establish your right of succession to the -inheritance of his eminence, the most high, most powerful and most -excellent prince cardinal." -</p> -<p> -"I have the documents," said the monk; "have you said all that you have -to say, most high, most powerful and most excellent Master Barbagallo?" -</p> -<p> -"I will also say to his highness," rejoined the steward, in nowise -disconcerted, "that he too is awaited impatiently—but—" -</p> -<p> -"But what? Do not stand in my way any longer with your suppliant air, -Master Barbagallo. If my mother is waiting for me, let me hurry to her; -if you have any personal request to make, I will listen to you at some -other time, and I promise you beforehand whatever you ask." -</p> -<p> -"O, my noble master, yes!" cried Barbagallo, standing in the doorway, -with a heroic air, and handing Michel a gala coat cut in the antique -style, while a servant, notified by a stroke of the bell, brought a pair -of satin breeches stitched with gold, silk stockings with red clocks and -a sword. "Yes, yes, I have a personal request which I venture to present -to you. You cannot appear before the family council which awaits your -presence in that fustian jacket and that coarse shirt. It is impossible -for a Palmarosa, a Castro-Reale I mean, to meet his cousins-german for -the first time in the costume of a mechanic. They know the nobly borne -misfortunes of your youth, and with what great courage you have accepted -an ignoble place in society. But that is no reason why they should see -its livery on your highness's body. I will kneel at your feet to beg you -to wear the costume of state which your grandfather, Prince Donigi de -Palmarosa, wore on the occasion of his first presentation at the court -of Naples." -</p> -<p> -The first part of this harangue triumphed over Michel's irritation. He -and the monk could not refrain from laughing uproariously; but the last -words put an end to their merriment and darkened their brows. -</p> -<p> -"I am quite sure," said Michel, shortly, "that my mother did not bid you -offer me this absurd disguise, and that it would afford her no pleasure -to see me arrayed in that livery! I much prefer the one which I now wear -and which I shall wear the rest of the day, by your leave, Master -majordomo." -</p> -<p> -"I beg your highness not to be angry with me," rejoined Barbagallo, in -dire confusion, motioning to the servant to remove the costume at once. -"Perhaps I acted unwisely, taking counsel of my own zeal; but if—" -</p> -<p> -"But nothing! leave me," said Michel, opening the door impatiently; and -leaning on Fra Angelo's arm, he descended the inner staircase from the -Casino and resolutely entered the great gallery in his artisan's -costume. -</p> -<p> -The princess, dressed in black, was sitting on a sofa at the end of the -gallery, surrounded by the Marquis della Serra, Doctor Recuperati, -Pier-Angelo, several tried friends of both sexes, and several kinsmen; -the faces of the latter wearing a more or less resentful or dismayed -expression, despite their efforts to appear touched and fascinated by -the romance of her life which she had just told them. Mila was sitting -on a cushion at her feet, lovely as ever, with glistening eyes, and pale -with surprise and emotion. Other groups were scattered about the -gallery. They were the less intimate friends, the more distant -relations, and the lawyers whom Agatha had summoned to declare the -validity of her marriage and the legitimacy of her son. Still farther -away the servants of the house, on active service or retired on -pensions, some privileged workmen, the Magnani family among the rest, -and lastly, the cream of those <i>clients</i> with whom Sicilian nobles -have intimate relations unknown in France, which recall the ancient customs -of the Roman patriciate. -</p> -<p> -It will readily be believed that Agatha had not felt called upon to -state the cruel reasons which had led her to marry the too famous Prince -of Castro-Reale, that gallant and redoubtable brigand, so depraved and -yet at times so ingenuous, a sort of converted Don Juan concerning whom -more tales were current, tales of crime and of love, fabulous and -improbable, than could possibly be true of any one man. To the public -avowal of an act of violence which was most offensive to her modesty and -her pride, she preferred the implied confession of a passion, romantic -beyond reason on her part, but unconstrained and legitimate. To the -Marquis della Serra alone had she confided her real story; he alone knew -of Agatha's unhappy youth, the cruelty of her parents, the probable -murder of the <i>Destatore</i>, and the plots against the life of her son -while he was in his cradle. The princess allowed the others to infer -that her family had not approved of that clandestine marriage, and that -her son had necessarily been brought up secretly, to avoid the risk of -being disinherited by his mother's relations. Her narrative was brief, -simple and concise, and she had borne herself in the telling with a -self-assured and tranquil dignity which she owed to the force of her -maternal affection. Before she was aware of her son's existence, she -would have killed herself rather than allow the tenth part of her secret -to be suspected; but, with the determination that her son should be -recognized and welcomed, she would have revealed everything if a -complete disclosure had been necessary. -</p> -<p> -She had finished speaking a quarter of an hour before Michel entered. -She had looked calmly into the faces of her audience. She knew what to -think of the artless emotion of some, of the masked malevolence of -others. She knew that she should have the courage to face all the -exaggerations, all the sneers, all the malicious remarks to which her -declaration would give rise in the outside world, and especially in -aristocratic society. She was ready for everything, and felt strong and -brave, supported by her son's arm—that woman who had steadfastly -refused to accept the protection of a husband or the consolations of a -lover. Some of those present, whether maliciously or from stupidity, had -tried to induce her to add some details, some further particulars, to -her declaration. She had replied gently but firmly: -</p> -<p> -"Not before so many witnesses, and on a day of mourning and solemnity, -can I undertake to entertain or interest you by telling a love-story. -Besides, it is all a long way off. I was very young then, and after -twenty years have passed since those exciting days, I should find it -hard to speak of them from a standpoint which would enable you to -understand the choice I thought fit to make. I will allow you to -consider it an extraordinary act, but I will not allow anyone to speak -reproachfully of it in my presence; for that would be an insult to the -man whose name I accepted, to hand it down to my son." -</p> -<p> -There was much eager whispering among the groups scattered through that -vast apartment. Only the group at the extreme end, consisting of honest -workmen and faithful servants, was grave and calm, and secretly touched. -Magnani's father and mother came forward weeping, and kissed Agatha's -hand. Mila, in the midst of her transports of amazement and joy, was a -little depressed in the depths of her heart. She said to herself that -Magnani should be there; but she could not see him, although she looked -everywhere. However, she forgot him when Michel appeared, and she rose -to rush to him through the groups, malevolent or thunderstruck, which -opened to give passage to the artisan prince and his woolen blouse. But -she stopped short, with crimson cheeks and in sore distress: Michel was -no longer her brother; she must not kiss him any more. -</p> -<p> -Agatha, who had risen first, turned and beckoned to her, and, taking her -by the hand, walked toward her son with the proud resolution of a queen -and a mother. First she led him to receive publicly the blessing of his -father and his uncle by adoption, then turned him over to the cordial -hand-clasps of her friends and the salutations of her acquaintances. -Michel took pleasure in adopting a cold and haughty bearing with those -who seemed to him cold and haughty; but when he was in the midst of the -more popular portion of the company, he appeared as he felt, overflowing -with sincerity and cordiality. He had no difficulty in winning the -hearts of those good people, and he was greeted as heartily as if they -had been present at his birth, and he had grown to manhood before their -eyes. -</p> -<p> -After the production of the certificates of marriage and birth, which, -having been recorded under the former ecclesiastical administration, -were perfectly regular and authentic, Agatha took leave of the family -gathering, and withdrew to her private apartments with Michel, the -Lavoratori family, and the Marquis della Serra. There they tasted the -unalloyed happiness of being together, and recovered from the fatigue -due to the constraint to which they had been subjected. They laughed -over the incident of the grandfather's gala costume, Master Barbagallo's -happy thought. They made merry in anticipation of all the monstrous and -absurd tales concerning the state of affairs in the family, to which the -imaginations of the good people of Catania, Messina, and Palermo would -give birth while the excitement was at its height. -</p> -<p> -But the day had not passed before they felt that they would all require -more genuine courage than they had yet been called upon to display. The -news of the murder of Abbé Ninfo, together with a copy of the audacious -inscription, reached the city during the evening, and was speedily -circulated. Persons who were out walking had brought the copy, the -<i>campieri</i> brought the body. As the incident seemed to have a -political color, it was discussed in undertones; but as it had some -connection with the great events of the day, the death of the cardinal -and Agatha's declaration, people talked about it all night, having no -desire to sleep. The greatest and most beautiful city on earth, unless -it be one of the great metropolises of civilization, is always, so far -as its spirit and its ideas are concerned, a petty provincial town, -especially in the south of Europe. -</p> -<p> -The police were aroused by the vengeance wreaked upon one of their -agents. Persons in the good graces of the government assumed, in -aristocratic salons, a menacing attitude toward the patriotic nobles. -The Neapolitan faction asserted that the Prince of Castro-Reale had -better look to himself if he wished his father's crimes to be forgotten; -and, ere long, salutary warnings intended for the princess found their -way into her very boudoir. A sincere, but cowardly friend informed her -that the assertion of her innocence in the Piccinino's extraordinary -document, and the appeal therein made to her son to avenge Castro-Reale, -would compromise her very seriously unless she made haste to take some -measures dictated by prudence: as, for instance, to present her son to -the ruling powers, and to manifest her purpose, indirectly but clearly, -to abandon her defunct brigand to the devil, and her bastard stepson's -body to the headsman, to be a true and loyal Palmarosa, like her father -and uncle before her, and to make herself responsible for the proper -political education of the heir of a name so difficult to bear as that -of Castro-Reale was likely to be. -</p> -<p> -To these warnings, Agatha replied calmly and judiciously that she never -went into society; that she had been living for nearly twenty years in -undisturbed seclusion, where no conspiracies had ever been formed; that -to take any measures at that moment to obtain the favor of the ruling -powers would be in effect to admit the justice of suspicions which she -did not deserve; that her son was still a child, brought up in an -obscure station and in ignorance of everything outside of the poetry of -art; that she would bear boldly, with him, the name of Castro-Reale, -because it would be cowardly to deny her marriage and his descent, and -that they would not fail to make that name respected, even under the -eyes of the police. As for the Piccinino, she very adroitly pretended -that she had no idea what they meant, and that she did not believe in -the existence of that intangible phantom, a sort of ogre, whose name was -used to frighten the little children and old women of the suburbs. She -was surprised and distressed by the murder of Abbé Ninfo; but as the -will turned up opportunely in Doctor Recuperati's custody, no one could -suspect that she owed the recovery of the document to a secret -arrangement with the brigands of the mountain. The doctor did not even -know that it had been taken from him; for, just as he was about to make -a public declaration that Ninfo had stolen it, Agatha had interrupted -him, saying: -</p> -<p> -"Be careful, doctor, you are very absent-minded, you know; don't accuse -anyone hastily. You showed me the will two days ago; may you not have -left it in my chamber, under a piece of mosaic?" -</p> -<p> -An official visit to the place indicated had resulted in finding the -will there intact. The doctor, astounded at his carelessness, had -believed in it with the others. -</p> -<p> -Agatha had suffered so much, the secrets she had had to keep had been so -painful, that she had become very skilful in feigning, when it was -necessary to take that trouble. Michel and the marquis admired the -presence of mind which she displayed throughout the whole affair in -extricating herself from an alarming position. But Fra Angelo became -very sad, and Michel sought his couch much less light-hearted in his -palace than he had been in his garret. The necessary precautions, the -constant dissimulation to which he must resort, revealed the anxieties -and perils of grandeur. The Capuchin feared that he would be corrupted -in spite of himself. Michel was not afraid of being corrupted, but he -felt that he must keep a close watch upon himself, and make himself -small in order to preserve his peace of mind and domestic happiness, or -else enter upon a struggle which would end only with his fortune or his -life. -</p> -<p> -He resigned himself to his fate. He determined that he would be prudent -for his mother's sake until the time should come to be reckless for the -sake of his country. But the period of excitement and untroubled -happiness had already passed; duty was beginning: novels which are not -cut short in the midst of the catastrophe become depressing on the last -pages, that is to say, if they have the slightest semblance of -probability. -</p> -<p> -Certain persons of taste and vivid imagination insist that a novel -should not have any end; that the reader should end it to suit himself. -Certain others, persons of judgment and method, desire to see all the -threads of the plot straightened out, and all the characters happily -established for the rest of their lives, or else killed off, so that -they need think no more about them. I agree with the former class, and I -think that I might well have left the reader at the foot of the -<i>Destatore's</i> cross, reading the inscription which the <i>justicier -d'aventure</i> had written there. He could readily have imagined without my -assistance the chapter which he has just read—and read with languid -interest, I warrant—saying to himself: "I was sure of it; I expected -it; that goes without saying." -</p> -<p> -But I was afraid that I might have to deal with a reader of delicate -sensibilities, who would have been made ill by being left in the -classico-romantic company of a corpse and a vulture. -</p> -<p> -Why are all <i>dénouements</i> more or less lame and unsatisfactory? The -reason is simple enough: it is because in real life there never is a -<i>dénouement</i>; that the novel goes on forever, melancholy or placid, -poetic or commonplace, and that the purely conventional can never wear -the truthful aspect which arouses interest. -</p> -<p> -But since, against my inclination, I have determined to elucidate -everything, I realize that I have left Magnani on the seashore, Mila -anxious, the Piccinino in flight, and the Marquis della Serra at the -princess's feet. As for the last-named, he had been in that position for -nearly twelve years, and a day more or less was of little consequence to -him; but as soon as he learned Agatha's secret, and saw her son in -possession of all his rights and all his good fortune, he changed his -attitude, and, drawing himself up to the full height of his loyal and -chivalrous nature, he said in Michel's presence: -</p> -<p> -"Signora, I love you as I have always loved you. I esteem you the more -because of the pride and loyalty you have hitherto displayed in refusing -to contract, under the title of virgin, a marriage in which you would -have had to bear in secret the titles of widow and mother. But if you -think that, because you were subjected to outrage long ago, you are -degraded in my eyes, you do not know my heart. If, because you bear a -strange name, a name that arouses horror because of the memories -connected with it, you believe that I would shrink from replacing it -with mine, you put an affront upon my devotion to you. These, on the -contrary, are reasons which make me desire more eagerly than ever to be -your friend, your support, your protector and your husband. At the -present moment your first marriage is a subject of ridicule. Give me -your hand, and no one will dare to ridicule the second. People call you -the brigand's wife; be the wife of the most reasonable and sedate of -patricians, so that people may know that, if you can inflame the -imagination of a wild and wayward man, you can rule the heart of a man -of calm and peaceful life. Your son sorely needs a father, signora. He -will soon be involved in more than one difficult and perilous crisis of -the hazardous existence which a hostile race forces upon us. Be assured -that I already love him as if he were my own son, and that my life and -my fortune are his. But that is not enough; it is necessary that the -sanction of a marriage between you and me should put an end to the -equivocal position in which we stand toward each other. If I am supposed -to be his mother's lover, can he love or esteem me? Would it not be -absurd—aye cowardly—in him to seem to endure it without shame -or impatience? So that I must avoid you now, if you refuse to be united to -me. You will lose your best friend, and so will Michel! As for myself, -I say nothing of the grief I should feel, for I know of no words to -describe it; but my happiness is not the question, and it is not from -selfishness that I implore you thus. No, I know that you do not know -what love is, and that the thought of passion terrifies you. I know what -a deep wound your heart has received, and how repugnant to you are the -thoughts which kindle the imagination of those who know you. Very well! -I will be your brother—nothing more. I promise upon my honor, if you -demand it. Michel shall be your only child as well as your only love. -But the law and public morality will permit me to be his best friend, -his guide, and the defender of his mother's honor and fair fame." -</p> -<p> -The marquis delivered this long speech in a calm tone, the expression of -his face corresponding to his manner. But a tear trembled on his eyelid, -and he did wrong to try to hold it back, for it was more eloquent than -his words. -</p> -<p> -The princess blushed; it was the first time that the marquis had ever -seen her blush, and he was so agitated that he lost all the -self-possession with which he had armed himself. That blush which made -her a true woman for the first time, at thirty-two years of age, was -like a sunbeam on the snow, and Michel's artistic sensibilities were so -keen that he realized at once that she had kept another secret in the -depths of her heart, or else that her heart, revived by joy and a sense -of security, was ripe for love. And what man was more worthy of her than -the Marquis della Serra? -</p> -<p> -The young prince knelt at her feet. -</p> -<p> -"O mother," he said, "you are only twenty years old! See, look at -yourself," he added, offering her a hand mirror which her maid had left -on the table. "You are so beautiful and so young, and you propose to -renounce love! Is it for my sake? Shall I be the happier because your -life is less complete and less happy? Shall I respect you less because I -see that you are more profoundly respected and more effectively -protected? Are you afraid that I am jealous, as Mila accused me of -being? No, I shall not be jealous unless I find that he loves you better -than I do, and I defy him to do that! Dear marquis, we will love her -dearly, will we not, and make her forget the past; we will make her -happy, who has never been happy, and who, alone of all human beings, -deserves absolute happiness! Say yes, mother; I will not stand up until -you have said yes!" -</p> -<p> -"I have already reflected," said Agatha, blushing afresh. "I think that -I must do it for your sake, and for the dignity of us all." -</p> -<p> -"Do not say so," cried Michel, throwing his arms about her; "say that it -is for your happiness, if you wish us two to be happy!" -</p> -<p> -Agatha held out her hand to the marquis and hid her son's face against -her breast. She was ashamed to have him see her fiancé's joy. She had -retained the modesty of a girl; and from that day, she was so fresh and -so lovely that the evil tongues, who insist upon detecting falsehood and -crime everywhere, declared that Michel was not her son, but a lover -installed in her house under that profaned title. However, all calumny -and ridicule vanished before the announcement of her marriage to Signor -della Serra, which was to take place at the end of her mourning. There -was an occasional sneer at the marquis's Quixotic love, but he was -envied much more than he was pitied. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap49"></a>XLIX -<br><br> -DANGER</h4> - -<p> -This announcement made a profound impression on Magnani. It put the -finishing touch to his cure and his depression of spirit. His -impressionable heart could not do without an all-absorbing, exclusive -love; but he had apparently been deceived when he persuaded himself that -he had never really hoped; for when hope had become impossible, he was -no longer beset by the phantom of Agatha. It was Mila's phantom which -engrossed his meditations and his sleepless nights. But this last -passion began in the midst of a torture more intense than all the -previous ones. Agatha had appeared to him as an ideal creature whom he -could never reach. Mila appeared to him under the same aspect, but with -the additional certainty that she had a lover. -</p> -<p> -Thereupon, in that little circle of relations and friends, there ensued -a succession of petty anxieties, exceedingly delicate in their nature, -which eventually became very painful to Mila and Magnani. Pier-Angelo, -seeing that his daughter was depressed, and being unable to understand -it, was inclined to have a friendly explanation with Magnani, and lead -him on to ask openly for Mila's hand. Fra Angelo did not agree with him -and restrained him. This question being taken before the princess's -kindly tribunal for decision led to explanations concerning the -excursion to Nicolosi which were perfectly satisfactory to the father -and the uncle, but which might well leave some suspicion in the lover's -proud and uncompromising heart. Fra Angelo, who was responsible for the -trouble, undertook to repair it. He went to the young man, and without -disclosing Mila's sublime imprudence, told him that she was absolutely -justified in his mind, and that he had discovered that the purpose of -that mysterious excursion was to do a noble and courageous act. -</p> -<p> -Magnani asked no question. Had he done so, the monk, who was incapable -of paltering with the truth, would have told him everything; but -Magnani's loyal heart closed itself to suspicion as soon as Fra Angelo -had given his word. He believed at last in the possibility of happiness -and went to Pier-Angelo to seek confirmation of his belief. -</p> -<p> -But it was written that Magnani should not be happy. On the day when he -appeared to make his declaration and urge his suit, Mila, instead of -remaining during their interview, left her father's workshop angrily and -shut herself up in her own room. She was offended in the sanctuary of -her pride by Magnani's four or five days of depression and irresolution. -She had expected an easier and speedier triumph. She blushed at the -thought that she had pursued him so long. -</p> -<p> -Moreover, she was aware of all that had happened during those days of -misery. She knew that Michel was not in favor of their giving Magnani so -much encouragement to declare himself. Michel alone had known his -friend's secret, and he was alarmed for his adopted sister's sake by -such a sudden reaction in her favor, which might well be an act of -desperation. Mila concluded that Michel was aware that Magnani persisted -in loving another woman, although the young artisan had refused to take -back the princess's ring, and had begged Mila to keep it as a pledge of -his esteem and respect. On that same evening, the evening that he had -escorted her home from the Della Serra palace while Michel remained -behind with his mother, Magnani, intoxicated by her beauty, her wit and -her social success, had spoken to her so warmly that what he said was -almost a declaration of love. Mila had had the strength of will to -refrain from encouraging him openly. But she had believed that she had -triumphed, and on the next day, the day of Agatha's declaration, she had -expected to see him at her feet and to tell him at last that she loved -him. -</p> -<p> -But he had not appeared at all on that day, and on the days immediately -following he had not addressed a single word to her; he had confined -himself to bowing to her with frigid respect when he had not been able -to avoid her eye. Mila, mortally wounded and distressed, had refused to -tell her father the truth, when that worthy man, disturbed by her -pallor, asked her almost on his knees. She had persisted in denying that -she loved their young neighbor. Pier-Angelo, simple and straightforward -creature that he was, could find nothing better to say to her than: -</p> -<p> -"Cheer up, my child, we know very well that you love each other; but he -has been uneasy and jealous on account of the Nicolosi affair; when you -condescend to justify yourself in his eyes, he will fall at your feet. -You will see him there to-morrow, I am sure of it." -</p> -<p> -"Oho! Master Magnani presumes to be jealous and to suspect me!" rejoined -Mila, hotly. "He has loved me only a day or two, he doesn't know whether -I love him, and when a suspicion comes into his head, instead of humbly -telling me of it and doing his best to supplant the rival who worries -him, he assumes the air of a betrayed husband, gives up all idea of -making himself agreeable to me and persuading me, and, I suppose, will -consider that he confers great honor and great pleasure on me when he -comes and tells me that he deigns to forgive me! Well, for my part, I do -not forgive him. That's what you may say to him from me, father." -</p> -<p> -The child persisted so in her irritation that Pier-Angelo was forced to -take Magnani to her chamber door, where she let him knock a long while, -and which she opened at last, saying pettishly that he seemed determined -to interrupt her siesta. -</p> -<p> -"You may be perfectly sure," said Pier-Angelo to Magnani, "that the sly -minx was not asleep, for she only left my workshop just as you came in. -Come, children, put aside all these pretty quarrels. Shake hands, since -you love each other; and I give you permission to kiss. No! Mila is -proud like her poor mother. Ah! friend Antonio, you will be led by the -nose as I was, and you will be none the less happy for it, I tell you! -Come, kneel and ask her pardon. Signora Mila, must your father kneel -too?" -</p> -<p> -"Father," replied Mila, flushing with pleasure, pride and vexation, all -at once, "listen to me, instead of laughing at me, for I must keep my -dignity intact! A woman has nothing more precious than her dignity, and -no man, not even a father, ever understands what justification we have -for being sensitive. I do not choose to be loved by halves, I do not -choose to serve as a makeshift and a balm for a partly healed passion. I -know that Master Magnani has long been in love with a beautiful unknown, -and I am afraid that he is still, a little. Very good! I want him to -take time enough to forget her and to give me time to find out whether I -love him. This is all too new and strange to be accepted so hurriedly. I -know that, when I have given my word, I shall not retract it, even if I -regret having done it. I will judge of Magnani's affection," she said, -with a reproachful glance at him, "by his evenness of temper with me and -the zealousness of his attentions. He has something to set right, and I -something to forgive." -</p> -<p> -"I accept the test," said Magnani, "but not as a punishment; I do not -consider that I have been blameworthy in giving way to sorrow and -depression. I did not believe that you loved me, and I knew well that I -had no right to expect it. I still think that you do not, and if I -venture to hope a little, it is in fear and trembling." -</p> -<p> -"Ah! what fine words, just to say nothing!" cried Pier-Angelo. "In my -day we were less eloquent and more sincere. We said: 'Do you love -me?'—'Yes, and you?'—'Like a madman.'—'So do I, until -death.'—That was better than these long dialogues of yours, which -seem like a game, and a game in which you try to annoy and worry each -other. But perhaps I am in the way. I will go; when you are alone, you -will understand each other better." -</p> -<p> -"No, father," said Mila, afraid that she should allow herself to be -moved and persuaded too quickly, "even if he had enough love and spirit -to-day to make me listen to him, I know that I should be sorry to-morrow -that I had been so trustful. Besides, I know that you haven't told him -everything. I know that he has taken it upon himself to be jealous, -because I took a certain erratic walk on the mountain; but I know also -that my uncle, when he assured him that I had committed no sin, which he -was kind enough to believe, thought it best to say nothing as to the -purpose of that walk. But for my own part, I am ashamed, and blush for -that circumspection, which apparently was supposed to be necessary to -his peace of mind, and I propose to tell him the whole truth." -</p> -<p> -"As you please, my child," replied Pier-Angelo. "I am inclined to agree -with you that you should keep back no part of what you think you ought -to tell. So speak as you think best. But you must remember that it is -somebody else's secret whom you promised never to name." -</p> -<p> -"I can safely name him, as his name is in every mouth, especially in -these last few days, and, if there is any danger in saying that one -knows him, it is only for those who make that boast; however, it is not -my purpose to reveal what I know about him; I may therefore tell Master -Magnani that I voluntarily passed two hours tête-à-tête with the -Piccinino, without telling him where or for what purpose." -</p> -<p> -"I believe that the fever for making declarations is attacking all -women," laughed Pier-Angelo; "since Princess Agatha made the one which -has caused so much talk, they all seem determined to confess in public." -</p> -<p> -Pier-Angelo spoke more truly than he supposed. The example of courage is -contagious among women, and the romantically inclined Mila admired -Princess Agatha so passionately that she regretted that she had not a -secret marriage with the Piccinino to proclaim at that moment, provided -always that she had become a widow and could marry Magnani. -</p> -<p> -But her rash avowal produced an entirely different effect from that -which she expected. There was no trace of anxiety on Magnani's face, and -she could not rejoice inwardly at having aroused and awakened his love -by a flash of jealousy. He became even more melancholy and gentle than -usual, kissed Mila's hand, and said to her: -</p> -<p> -"Your frankness denotes a noble heart, Mila, but there is a little pride -mixed with it. Doubtless you intended to put me to a harsh test by -telling me something that would alarm any other man than myself to the -last degree. But I know your father and your uncle too well to fear that -they deceived me when they said that you went into the mountain to do a -good deed. So do not try to puzzle me; that would be cruel on your part, -because you could have no other object than to make me unhappy. Tell me -everything or tell me nothing. I have no right to demand disclosures -which would compromise anyone, but I have the right to ask you not to -play with me by trying to shake my confidence in you." -</p> -<p> -Pier-Angelo declared that on this occasion Magnani talked <i>like a -book</i>, and that no one could possibly make a more straightforward, -generous and sensible reply on such a delicate subject. -</p> -<p> -But what had taken place in little Mila's heart within a few days? It -may be that one should never play with fire, however worthy the motive -of one's action, and that she really did wrong to go to Nicolosi. -However that may be, Magnani's reply did not please her as much as it -did her father, and she felt chilled and piqued by the sort of paternal -lecture which her lover had given her. -</p> -<p> -"Sermons already!" she said, rising, as a hint to Magnani that she -proposed to go no farther with him that day; "and sermons to me, whom -you pretend to love with so little hope and courage? It seems to me, -neighbor, on the other hand, that you expect to find me very tractable -and submissive. Well, I am afraid that you are mistaken. I am a child, -and I ought to know it, for I am told so from morning till night; but I -know very well that when one is really in love, he sees no -fault—nothing wrong—in the conduct of the loved one. -Everything she does is charming, or at all events sincere. He doesn't -call her loyalty haughtiness, and her pride childish teasing. You see, -Magnani, that it is a pity to see too clearly in love. There is a song -that says that <i>Cupid is a blind bambino</i>. Father knows it; he will -sing it to you. Meanwhile, understand that clairvoyance is contagious, -and that he who removes the bandage from his eyes discloses his own -faults to others at the same time. You have discovered that I am a -little overbearing, and you think doubtless that I am a flirt. For my -part, that shows me that you are very proud, and I am afraid that you -are a bit of a pedant." -</p> -<p> -The Angelos hoped that the cloud would pass over, and that, after giving -vent to her vexation, Mila would be all the more loving and Magnani all -the happier. Indeed, they had interviews and battles of words and -sentiments, in which they were so near coming to terms, that their -sudden falling-out again a moment later, Magnani's depression and Mila's -excitement, seemed inexplicable. Magnani was terrified sometimes to find -so much spirit and will-power in a woman. Mila was afraid of so much -gravity and unwavering common sense in a man. It seemed to her that -Magnani was incapable of feeling a great passion, and she wished to -inspire one, because she felt in a mood to plunge into it violently on -her own account. He always spoke and thought like virtue personified, -and it was with an imperceptible touch of irony that Mila called him the -<i>just man par excellence</i>. -</p> -<p> -She was very coquettish with him, and Magnani, instead of taking -pleasure in her ingenious and strenuous efforts to please him, was -afraid that she was a little coquettish with all men. Ah! if he had seen -her in the Piccinino's boudoir, holding in check and subduing by her -exquisite chastity, by her virile simplicity, so to speak, the young -brigand's crafty inclinations and evil thoughts, Magnani would have -realized that Mila was no coquette, since she was coquettish with him -alone. -</p> -<p> -But the unfortunate man was not familiar with women; and, because he had -loved so long in silence and sorrow, he had no conception of the -delicate and mysterious problems of requited love. He was over-modest. -He took Mila's cruel pleasantness too seriously, and scolded her for -being so unkind to him when he ought to have thanked her on his knees. -</p> -<p> -Moreover, to tell the whole truth, that Nicolosi affair was stamped with -the seal of fatality, like everything else that was connected, though it -were by the tiniest thread, with the Piccinino's mysterious existence. -Without touching upon the details which demanded secrecy, they had told -Magnani everything that could set his mind at rest concerning that -adventure of Mila's. Fra Angelo, always loyal to his secret predilection -for the bandit, had vouched for his chivalrous and honorable conduct -under such circumstances. The princess, loving Mila with a maternal -love, had spoken with heartfelt eloquence of the girl's devotion and -courage. Pier-Angelo had arranged everything for the best, in his happy -and unsuspecting brain. Michel alone had shuddered upon learning of the -episode, and he thanked Providence for performing a miracle in behalf of -his charming and noble-hearted sister. -</p> -<p> -But despite his grandeur of soul, Magnani had been unable to look upon -Mila's performance as the result of a worthy impulse; and, although he -never mentioned the subject, he suffered intensely, as may be imagined. -</p> -<p> -As for Mila, the consequences of her adventure were more serious, -although she did not suspect it as yet. That romantic chapter in her -life had left an ineffaceable impression on her brain. After trembling -and weeping bitterly when she learned that she had recklessly -surrendered herself as a hostage to the redoubtable Piccinino, she had -made the best of her mistake, and had secretly become reconciled to the -thought of that alarming personage, who had bequeathed to her, instead -of shame, remorse and despair, naught but poetic memories, increased -esteem for herself, and a bouquet of spotless flowers, which an -undefinable instinct had led her to preserve carefully among her -sentimental relics, after drying them with the greatest care. -</p> -<p> -Mila was no coquette; we have proved it by telling how coquettish she -was with the man whom she looked upon as her fiancé. Nor was she -fickle; she would have been faithful to him until death, with a fidelity -proof against every trial. But there are mysteries in a woman's heart, -deeper and more incomprehensible in proportion to the woman's mental -endowment and the exquisite charm of her nature. Moreover, there is -something sweet and glorious to a young girl in the thought that she has -succeeded in taming a terrible lion and has come forth safe and sound -from a perilous adventure, solely by the power of her charm, her -innocence and her courage. Mila realized now how brave and adroit she -had been, quite unconsciously, in that great danger, and the man who had -submitted so completely to the influence of her merit could not seem to -her a contemptible or ordinary man. -</p> -<p> -Thus a feeling of romantic gratitude enchained her to the memory of -Captain Piccinino, and, despite all the evil people might say of him, it -would have been impossible to shake her confidence in him. She had taken -him for a prince; was he not a prince's son and Michel's brother? She -had taken him for a hero, for the future liberator of his country; might -he not become so, had he not that ambition? His soft speech, his -charming manners had fascinated her; and why not? Had she not an even -more intense infatuation for Princess Agatha, and was the one less -legitimate and less pure than the other? -</p> -<p> -All this did not prevent Mila from loving Magnani so fervently that she -was always on the point of confessing her love in spite of herself; but -a week had passed since their first quarrel, and the modest and timid -Magnani had not as yet succeeded in extorting that confession. -</p> -<p> -He would have obtained that victory a little later doubtless, perhaps on -the very next day; but an unforeseen event brought confusion into Mila's -existence and gravely compromised the welfare of all the characters of -this narrative. -</p> -<p> -One evening, as Michel was walking with his mother and the marquis in -the garden of the villa, engaged all three in forming projects of mutual -devotion and dreaming dreams of happiness, Fra Angelo joined them, and -Michel concluded, from his strange expression and his excited manner, -that he wished to speak to him in secret. They walked away from the -others, as if by chance, and the Capuchin, taking from his breast a -soiled and crumpled paper, handed it to Michel. It contained only these -few words: "I am wounded and a prisoner; help, brother! Malacarne will -tell you the rest. In twenty-four hours it will be too late." -</p> -<p> -Michel recognized the Piccinino's fine, nervous handwriting. The note -was written in blood. -</p> -<p> -"I know all that has to be done," said the monk. "I received the letter -six hours ago. Everything is ready. I came to say good-bye to you, for -it may well be that I shall never return." -</p> -<p> -He paused, as if afraid to say something that was in his mind. -</p> -<p> -"I understand you, uncle; you relied upon my help," said Michel; "I am -ready. Let me embrace my mother." "If you do that, she will see that you -are going away and will detain you." -</p> -<p> -"No, but she will be anxious. I will not say good-bye to her: let us go. -On the way we will think up some excuse for my absence, and send her a -messenger." -</p> -<p> -"That would be very dangerous for her and for us. Leave it to me; it -means five minutes delay, but it can't be helped." -</p> -<p> -He went back to the princess and said to her in the marquis's presence: -</p> -<p> -"Carmelo is in hiding in our convent; his sentiments toward your -highness and Michel are all that can be desired. He desires to make his -peace with him before starting on a long journey necessitated by the -Ninfo affair and the suspicious and rigorous measures of the police -since it happened. He also has certain favors to ask at his brother's -hands. Permit us to go away together therefore, and if we are watched, -which is quite possible, I will keep Michel at the convent until he can -safely return. Rely upon the prudence of a man who is well used to -affairs of this sort. It may be that Michel will pass the night at the -convent, and even if he should stay longer do not be alarmed, and above -all things do not send for him; do not send us any message which might -be intercepted and lead to the discovery that we are giving shelter and -protection to the outlaw. I beg your highness to forgive me for being -unable to say anything further to reassure you. Time presses!" -</p> -<p> -Although greatly alarmed, Agatha concealed her emotion, kissed Michel, -and walked with them to the gate of the park; there she paused. -</p> -<p> -"You have no money with you," she said; "Carmelo may need some for his -journey. I will go and fetch some." -</p> -<p> -"Women think of everything," said Fra Angelo; "I had forgotten the most -essential thing of all." -</p> -<p> -Agatha returned with some gold and a blank draft bearing her signature, -which Michel could fill up as he chose for his brother's use. Magnani -had just arrived. He divined from the princess's agitation and the -leave-taking between her and Michel, accompanied by encouraging words -from the latter, that there was some real danger which they were -concealing from that loving mother. -</p> -<p> -"Should I be in your way if I accompanied you?" he asked the monk. -</p> -<p> -"On the contrary," was the reply, "you may be of the greatest service to -us. Come!" -</p> -<p> -Agatha thanked Magnani with one of those glances laden with maternal -love, which are more eloquent than any words. -</p> -<p> -The marquis would have joined them, but Michel objected. -</p> -<p> -"We are dreaming of imaginary dangers," he said with a laugh; "but if I -were in any danger, my mother would be also. Your place is with her, my -friend. I entrust to you what I hold dearest on earth! Is not this -rather a solemn leave-taking for a walk to Bel Passo by moonlight?" -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap50"></a>L -<br><br> -A NOCTURNAL JOURNEY</h4> - -<p> -When they were a hundred yards from the park, Michel, who was ready to -risk his own life, but not that of Mila's betrothed, in an affair in -which he had no concern and no duty to his conscience or his family to -fulfil, begged the young artisan to return to Catania. Fra Angelo -thought differently. Fanatical in his friendships as in his patriotism, -he looked upon Magnani as a providential ally. He was one stout and -fearless champion more, and their party was so small! Magnani alone was -worth three men; Heaven had sent him to their assistance, and they must -make the most of his zeal and his devotion to the good cause. -</p> -<p> -As they walked rapidly along they maintained a hot discussion. Michel -rebuked the monk for his pitiless proselytism under such circumstances; -the monk rebuked Michel for rejecting the means while seeking the end. -Magnani put an end to the dispute by his invincible determination. -</p> -<p> -"I understood perfectly well at the outset," he said, "that Michel was -engaging in some affair of more serious importance than he chose to -admit to his mother. I made up my mind at once. Some time ago I made -Princess Agatha a sacred promise: that I would never leave her son to -face alone any peril which I could share with him. I am keeping my -promise, and whether Michel is willing or not, I shall follow him -wherever he goes. I know of no other way to prevent me than to blow out -my brains here. Choose whether you will put up with my company or kill -me, Michel." -</p> -<p> -"All right! all right!" said the monk; "but stop talking, my sons. This -is a thickly settled spot, and we mustn't talk as we pass the houses. -Besides, we can't walk so fast when we are quarrelling. Ah! Magnani, you -are a man!" -</p> -<p> -Magnani marched to meet danger with cold and melancholy courage. He did -not feel perfectly happy in love; a craving for violent emotions drove -him forward at random toward some extreme goal which appeared to him -vaguely as an entire transformation of his present existence and a -definitive rupture with the hesitations and languor of his heart. -</p> -<p> -Michel was determined rather than calm. He knew that he was being led by -a fanatic to the succor of a man who was probably no less dangerous than -useful to the good cause. He knew that he himself was staking a happier -and broader existence than that of his companions; but he did not -hesitate to play a manly part under the circumstances. The Piccinino was -his brother, and although the sympathy he felt for him was blended with -suspicion and sadness, he understood his duty. Perhaps too he had become -enough of a <i>prince</i> to be unable to endure the thought that his -father's son might die at the end of a rope, with a sentence of -degradation nailed to his gallows. Still, his heart was sore when he -thought of his mother's grief if he should fall in such a reckless -undertaking; but he resolutely closed his heart to all human weakness, -and walked like the wind, as if he had hoped to wipe out, by forgetting -it, the distance that he made haste to put between Agatha and himself. -</p> -<p> -The convent was not under suspicion or surveillance, as the Piccinino -was not there, and the police of the Val were well aware that he had -crossed the Garreta and gone into hiding in the interior of the island. -Fra Angelo had invented danger near at hand to prevent the princess from -suspecting the existence of distant but more real dangers. He led his -young companions into his cell and assisted them to disguise themselves -as monks. They divided the money, the sinews of war, as Fra Angelo said, -in order that no one of them might be impeded by the weight of all the -coin. They concealed beneath their frocks weapons, powder and ball. -Their disguise and their outfitting consumed some time; and Fra Angelo, -whose former experience of dangerous undertakings had taught him the -evils of precipitation, examined everything with great care and perfect -self-possession. In truth their freedom of action depended entirely upon -their external aspect. The Capuchin trimmed Magnani's beard, colored -Michel's eyebrows and hands, changed the tint of their cheeks and their -lips by processes learned in his former profession, and with pigments so -prepared as to withstand the action of rain, perspiration, and the -compulsory baths to which the police resort in vain attempts to identify -their prisoners. -</p> -<p> -So far as he himself was concerned, the Capuchin took no pains to -deceive the eye as to his identity. It mattered little to him whether he -was captured and hanged, provided that he had first saved his former -captain's son. And since, in order to succeed in their undertaking, it -was necessary to travel in the guise of peaceably disposed persons, -nothing could be better suited to the rôle he had assigned to himself -than his genuine features and costume. -</p> -<p> -When the two young men were all equipped, they gazed at each other in -amazement. They were hardly recognizable, and they realized how the -Piccinino, who was much more expert than Fra Angelo in the art of -disguise, had been able thus far to conceal his real identity throughout -his adventurous life. -</p> -<p> -And when they found themselves astride two tall mules, gaunt but -willing, of wretched aspect, but of unlimited strength and endurance, -they admired the monk's genius and complimented him upon it. -</p> -<p> -"I have not done all these things so rapidly without assistance," he -replied, modestly; "I have been energetically and skilfully seconded, -for we are not alone in our expedition. We shall meet pilgrims of divers -sorts on the road we are about to take. Salute most courteously, my -sons, all those persons who salute you; but be careful not to speak a -word to anybody until you have looked at me. If any unforeseen accident -should separate us, you will find other guides and other companions. The -countersign is: <i>Friends, isn't this the road to Tre-Castagne</i>? I need -not tell you that it is the road that leads in the opposite direction, -and that nobody but one of your confederates would ask you such an -absurd question. You will answer, however, as a matter of prudence, and -in a jesting tone: <i>All roads lead to Rome</i>. And you will not place -absolute confidence in your interlocutor until he has answered: <i>By the -grace of God the Father</i>. Don't forget; don't fall asleep on your mules; -and don't spare them. We have relays on the road; not a word except in -whispers to one another." -</p> -<p> -As soon as they were fairly on the mountains, they urged their mules -forward at a rapid pace, and rode several miles in a very short time. As -Fra Angelo had said, they met various persons with whom they exchanged -the sentences agreed upon. Then the Capuchin would ride up to them and -talk with them in undertones, and they would resume their journey in -company, sufficiently far apart not to seem to be travelling together, -but always within sight and call. -</p> -<p> -The weather was exceedingly mild and the night superbly bright when they -started up the mountain. The moon lighted up huge masses of rock and -romantic precipices; but as they ascended through that wild country the -cold made itself felt, and the mist veiled the splendor of the stars. -Magnani was lost in his thoughts, but the young prince abandoned himself -to a childlike delight in adventures, and, far from nourishing and -fondling any presentiment of evil, as his friend was doing, he rode -forward overflowing with confidence in his lucky star. -</p> -<p> -As for the monk, he abstained from thinking of anything whatsoever -unconnected with the enterprise he was directing. With watchful, -penetrating eye, his ear on the alert for the faintest sound, he also -watched closely every movement, every change of position on the part of -his companions. At the slightest sign of relaxation of their hold upon -the reins, at the slightest suspicious swaying of their hooded heads, he -would have rescued them from the danger of dozing and falling from their -mules. -</p> -<p> -After riding fifteen miles, they changed mounts at a sort of hermitage -which seemed to be deserted, but where they were received in the -darkness by pretended muleteers, of whom they inquired as to the road -leading to the famous village of <i>Tre-Castagne</i>, and who answered, as -they grasped their hands and held their stirrups, that <i>all roads led to -Rome</i>. Fra Angelo distributed money, powder and bullets, which he -carried in his mendicant's wallet, to all those persons whom he met and -who were provided with that eloquent countersign; and, when they -approached the end of their journey, Michel had counted a score or more -of men, muleteers and peddlers, monks and peasants, who belonged to -their party. There were even three in woman's dress,—young fellows -whose beards had not yet grown nor their voices changed. They were very -well made up, and played their parts to perfection. They were ready to -serve as messengers or scouts at need. -</p> -<p> -The Piccinino's situation and the circumstances of his capture were as -follows. The murder of Abbé Ninfo had been executed and proclaimed with -an insane audacity altogether contrary to the young chief's habitual -prudence. To kill a man, and to boast of it by an inscription left upon -the very spot where the crime was committed, instead of concealing his -body and removing every trace of the deed—a very simple matter in -a region like that of Ætna—was certainly a desperate performance, -a sort of challenge hurled at destiny in a moment of frantic excitement. -But Carmelo, wishing not to shut himself out forever from his cherished -retreat at Nicolosi, had left it in perfect order, in case of an -investigation which should result in domiciliary visits. He had hastily -stripped his luxurious boudoir and hidden all his treasures in an -excavation under the house, of which it was almost impossible to find -the entrance or to suspect the existence. And about sunrise he had shown -himself in the village of Nicolosi, perfectly placid and in excellent -spirits, thus laying a foundation for an <i>alibi</i>, if the police, -taking for true the declaration written on the base of the -<i>Destatore's</i> cross, should conceive suspicions of him and make -inquiries as to what he was doing at that time. The murder of Abbé -Ninfo had been committed at least two hours earlier. -</p> -<p> -Having taken these precautions, Carmelo had ridden through the village, -making some purchases for a journey of several days, and informing his -acquaintances that he was going to look at some farming lands in the -interior of the island. -</p> -<p> -He had started for the Nebrodes mountains in the northern part of -Sicily, having determined to pass some days with certain brigands -affiliated to his own band, until the investigations and searching about -Catania had probably come to an end. He knew the methods of the police -of the province; they were zealous and fierce at first, then timid and -knavish, and, finally, tired and slothful. -</p> -<p> -But the affair at the <i>Destatore's</i> cross had made a deeper impression -on the ruling powers than an ordinary murder. This had a political -bearing, and seemed to be related to the great sensation of the moment, -Agatha's declaration and her son's appearance on the world's stage. -Severe orders were sent out rapidly in all directions. Carmelo was not -safe in the mountains, especially as his acolyte, the false Piccinino, -had joined him, and thus drew upon him all the danger of pursuit. -Carmelo did not choose to abandon that savage, bloodthirsty man, who had -given him abundant proofs of boundless devotion and blind submission, -and who continued to play his part to the end with proud and unwearying -courage. -</p> -<p> -He determined, therefore, to arrange for his escape before providing for -his own safety. The false Piccinino, whose real name was Massari, and -who was called <i>Verbum Caro</i> because he was a native of the village of -that name, was endowed with a brute courage that nothing could daunt, -but was as stupid as a buffalo in a frenzy. Carmelo went to the seashore -with him, and tried to find a boat to take him to Sardinia. But, despite -the precautions with which he surrounded that step, the owner of the -boat betrayed them as smugglers to the revenue officers on the coast. -Verbum Caro fought like a lion, and was half dead when he finally fell -into the hands of his enemies. Carmelo was slightly wounded, and both -were taken to the nearest fort, to be turned over to a squad of -<i>campieri</i>, in which were two men who recognized the false Piccinino -from having seen him during a skirmish at another part of the island. -They so testified before the magistrate at Cefalù, and there was great -rejoicing because the famous chief of the dreaded band was in custody. -The real Piccinino was supposed to be one of his confederates, although -Verbum Caro insisted that he had known him only three days, and that he -was a young fisherman who proposed going to Sardinia with him as he had -business there. -</p> -<p> -Carmelo replied to the questions that were asked him with a presence of -mind and a talent for deception which would have secured his release at -any other moment; but the country was intensely excited; so they decided -to send him to Catania with his dangerous companion, for further -proceedings, and they were placed in charge of the <i>campieri</i>, who -decided to take them to Catania by the road leading through the -mountains to the centre of the island, deeming it the safer way. -</p> -<p> -But they were attacked in the outskirts of Sperlinga by a few brigands -who had already learned of the arrest of the two Piccininos; but, just -as the prisoners were about to be set free, an unexpected reinforcement -came to the aid of the <i>campieri</i> and put the brigands to flight. It -was during this action that the Piccinino was adroit enough to throw among -the assailants a paper wrapped around a stone, which he had in his hand -ready for the first opportunity. Malacarne, whom he had recognized among -his would-be rescuers, was an active, intelligent man, a former member -of his father's band and a loyal friend to Fra Angelo. He had picked up -the note and carried it to its address with valuable additional -information. -</p> -<p> -In the fear, well-founded as we have seen, of an attack in the Nebrodes -mountains and an attempted rescue of the Piccinino, the authorities at -Cefalù had tried to conceal the importance of this capture, and the -escort of the prisoners made no display when they set forth. But the -same authorities had despatched an express to Catania to ask that a -detachment of Swiss troops be sent to Sperlinga to meet the escort, and -to say that they would halt there and wait for them. The brigands of the -mountain, who were on the alert, had waylaid and killed the messenger; -and, having ascertained beyond question, by reading his despatches, that -the prisoner was their leader, they had tried, as we have seen, to -rescue him from the hands of his escort. -</p> -<p> -The ill success of this attempt did not discourage them. Carmelo was the -soul of their lives. His shrewd leadership, his activity, the spirit of -justice, now savage, now chivalrous in its manifestations, which -governed his decisions with respect to them, and the immense prestige -attached to his name and his person, made him no less sacred than -necessary to them. It was the unanimous opinion among them, and among a -great number of mountaineers, who, while they did not know him and were -not immediately under his orders, were very glad to exchange favors with -him and his troop, that when the Piccinino was dead, the bandit's -profession would become impossible, and that there would be no other -resource for the heroes of the mountain than to become beggars. -</p> -<p> -So Malacarne assembled a few of his comrades near Sperlinga, and -succeeded in sending word to the two Piccininos that they must represent -themselves as being very ill, in order to remain there as long as -possible. It was by no means difficult to act upon the suggestion, for -Verbum Caro was dangerously wounded, and in the desperate efforts he had -made to burst his bonds during the engagement on the mountain, he had -reopened his wound and lost so much blood that they had had to carry him -to Sperlinga. Moreover, the <i>campieri</i> knew that it was of the utmost -importance to take him to Catania alive, so that they might try to -extort from him some information concerning Ninfo's murder and the -whereabouts of his band. -</p> -<p> -As soon as Malacarne had made his arrangements, he bade his comrades, -who were as yet only eight in number, to be ready for action, mounted -the murdered messenger's horse, after clipping him so as to make him -unrecognizable, and rode across the country in a straight line to Bel -Passo, notifying all those persons upon whom he could rely, to take arms -and await his return. Seconded by Fra Angelo, he passed six hours on -Ætna, collecting other brigands, and at last, on the second night after -the arrival of the prisoners at Sperlinga, a score or more of determined -men, trained to daring enterprises of this sort, encamped at the foot of -the cliff on which it stands. -</p> -<p> -Fra Angelo, the young Prince of Castro-Reale, and the faithful Magnani -also arrived, to direct the expedition, the first as leader, for he knew -the country generally and the particular locality better than anyone, -having once before carried the paltry stronghold by assault under the -<i>Destatore</i>, in better days; the other two as lieutenants, young -noblemen of the patriotic party, forced to conceal their identity, but -rich and powerful. So said Fra Angelo, who knew well that both poetry -and prose are essential to stimulate men who are fighting against the -laws. -</p> -<p> -When Fra Angelo and his friends left their mules, to plunge in among the -steep cliffs of Sperlinga, they were able to count their men, and found -that there were about twenty peasants posted here and there at some little -distance—prudent auxiliaries who would come to their assistance -as soon as the chances of war seemed to favor them; revengeful and -bloodthirsty men, who had suffered many and grievous wrongs which they -longed to avenge upon their enemies, and who knew how to do justice -speedily and pitilessly when there was not too great a risk to be run. -</p> -<p> -Nevertheless, a part of the band was beginning to show signs of -demoralization when the monk arrived. The lieutenant of the -<i>campieri</i>, who had charge of the prisoners, had sent to -Castro-Giovanni during the day to request reinforcements, which were -likely to arrive with the dawn. This officer was disturbed by the -non-appearance of the Swiss, whom he was awaiting with great impatience. -The spirit manifested by the surrounding population did not tend to -allay his fears. Perhaps he had detected some signs of activity among -the brigands in the mountain, and of their evident understanding with -certain people in the village. However that may be, he was -afraid—which fact the monk looked upon as a pledge of -victory—and he issued orders for departure on the following day, -preferring, he said to see a miserable wretch like the Piccinino die on -the highroad, rather than expose brave troops to the risk of being -murdered in a fortress without gates or walls. -</p> -<p> -Perhaps the officer knew enough Latin to read, over the gateway of the -ancient Norman castle in which he was intrenched, the famous motto which -French tourists go thither to contemplate with love and gratitude: -</p> -<p> -<i>Quod Sicilis placuit, Sperlinga sola negavit</i>.<a id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> We know that -Sperlinga was the only place which refused to surrender the Angevins at -the time of the <i>Sicilian Vespers</i>. It is well enough for our -compatriots to take pride therein; but it is certain that Sperlinga -performed no act of patriotism; and that, if the officer of <i>campieri</i> -looked upon the then government as existing in compliance with the -popular desire of Sicily, he must have seen, in the <i>negavit</i> of -Sperlinga, a constant threat which might well arouse a superstitious -terror in his mind.<a id="FNanchor_2_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_1" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> -</p> -<p> -The reinforcements from Castro-Giovanni were expected at any moment. The -assailants would find themselves between two fires. The imaginations of -some pictured the arrival of the Swiss also, and the Swiss soldier is -the terror of the Sicilians. Hardened and implacable, those children of -Helvetia, whose mercenary service under despotic governments is the -shame of their fatherland, strike without distinction at everything they -meet, and the <i>campiere</i> who hesitates to display less courage and -ferocity than they, is the first to fall under their bullets. -</p> -<p> -Thus there was fear on both sides; but Fra Angelo triumphed over the -hesitation of the brigands by a few words of rough eloquence and -unparalleled temerity. After vehemently rebuking those who talked of -waiting, he declared that he and his two <i>princes</i> would go alone to -meet their death under the walls of the fort, so that it might be said -throughout all Sicily: "Two patricians and a monk alone tried to effect -the rescue of the Piccinino. The children of the mountain looked on and -did not stir. Tyranny triumphs, the people of Sicily have become -dastards!" -</p> -<p> -Malacarne seconded him, declaring that he too would go and be shot down. -"And then," he said, "you can hunt up a leader and do what you choose." -There was no further hesitation, and such men know no middle course -between discouragement and unbridled frenzy. Fra Angelo had no sooner -seen them start forward than he exclaimed: "The Piccinino is saved!" -Michel was amazed that he could place so much confidence in courage that -was so weak-kneed a moment before; but he soon found out that the -Capuchin knew them better than he did. -</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>Sperlinga alone refused to do what the Sicilians wished.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="nind"><a id="Footnote_2_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_1"><span class="label">[2]</span></a>However ill-advised the hospitality accorded to the French -by the castle of Sperlinga may have been from the standpoint of the -welfare of the country, it was admirable in its persistence and -self-sacrificing spirit. Refugees and defenders died of hunger in the -fortress rather than surrender.</p></div> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap51"></a>LI -<br><br> -CATASTROPHE</h4> - -<p> -The fortress of Sperlinga, formerly considered impregnable, was at this -time nothing more than a majestic ruin, incapable of being defended. The -town, or more properly the hamlet, below it, was inhabited by a few -wretched creatures wasted by fever and poverty. Fortress and village -were perched upon a cliff of grayish sandstone, and the upper works of -the fortress were hollowed out of the rock. -</p> -<p> -The besiegers climbed the cliff on the side farthest from the village. -It seemed inaccessible; but the brigands were so well used to assaults -of that sort that they were very soon under the walls of the fort. Half -of them, under Malacarne, climbed still higher, and posted themselves in -an abandoned bastion on the highest point of the mountain. This -crenelated bastion afforded a safe position from which to fire down -almost perpendicularly upon the castle. It was agreed that Fra Angelo -and his men should station themselves at the entrance to the fortress, -where there was only a huge, worm-eaten, disjointed gate, which it was -not considered necessary to destroy, as that operation might take -sufficient time to give the garrison an opportunity to organize an -effective resistance. Malacarne's party was to fire on the castle from -above, while Fra Angelo held himself in readiness to fall upon those who -should come out. Then he would pretend to retreat, and, while they -pursued him, Malacarne would come down, attack the enemy in the rear, -and place him between two fires. -</p> -<p> -The little garrison temporarily quartered in the castle consisted of -about thirty men, a larger number than the assailants anticipated, the -reinforcements from Castro-Giovanni having arrived secretly at nightfall -and climbed up the road, or rather the staircase, from the village, -unseen by the bandits who were busily occupied in making their -preparations and taking great pains to keep out of sight. That part of -the escort which had kept watch throughout the preceding night was -sleeping, wrapped in their cloaks, on the floors of the great dismantled -halls. The late arrivals had lighted an enormous fire of fir branches in -the courtyard, and were playing <i>mora</i> to keep awake. -</p> -<p> -The prisoners occupied the great square tower: Verbum Caro, exhausted -and gasping for breath, stretched on a pile of rushes; the Piccinino, -gloomy but calm, sitting on a stone bench, much wider awake than his -keepers. He had heard a little bird whistling in the ravine, and had -recognized that designedly inaccurate melody as a signal from Malacarne. -He was patiently rubbing against a projecting stone the cord with which -his hands were bound. -</p> -<p> -The officer in command of the <i>campieri</i> was seated on the only chair -in an adjoining room, with his elbows resting on the only table in the -castle, which he had obtained by requisitioning it in the village. He -was an energetic, surly young man, accustomed to keep his temper at the -boiling point by the constant use of wine and tobacco, having to fight -against a lingering remnant of love for his country and hatred of the -Swiss. He had not slept an hour since the Piccinino was placed in his -custody, so that he was literally falling under the assaults of -drowsiness. The lighted cigar which he held in his hand burned the ends -of his fingers from time to time. Then he would rouse himself with a -start, puff at his cigar, look out through a great crack in the wall in -front of him to see if there were any signs of dawn, and, feeling -acutely the sharpness of the air on that elevated spot, would wrap his -cloak about him with a shudder, cursing the false Piccinino, who was -breathing stertorously in the adjoining room, and in a moment would let -his head fall forward on the table once more. -</p> -<p> -A sentinel was on guard at each end of the castle, but, whether because -of fatigue or of the heedlessness that takes possession of the most -disturbed mind when a dangerous situation is nearing its end, they had -not detected the swift and silent approach of the brigands. A third -sentinel was on duty at the isolated bastion which Malacarne was about -to seize, and that circumstance came very near causing the failure of -the whole plan of attack. -</p> -<p> -As he was climbing through a breach, Malacarne saw the man sitting under -his feet, almost between his legs. He had not anticipated that obstacle, -and he had neither his dagger nor his pistol in his hand. An opportune -dagger thrust cuts a man's life short without giving him time to cry -out. The pistol shot is less certain, nor did Malacarne wish to fire -until all his men were posted so that they could pour a deadly volley -into the fort. Meanwhile the sentinel would surely give the alarm, even -if the bandit should retreat, for his footing was precarious, and the -stones, uncemented, were beginning to crumble all about him. <i>The -campiere</i> was not asleep. He was paralyzed with cold, and had pulled his -cloak over his head as a protection against the piercing wind which -stiffened his limbs. -</p> -<p> -But while this precaution deadened the sound of the wind and made it -easier for him to hear sounds in the distance, it prevented him from -hearing any noise at his side, and the hood which he had pulled over his -eyes had made him blind for the last quarter of an hour. However, he was -a brave soldier, incapable of sleeping at his post. But there is nothing -more difficult than to keep a sharp lookout. An active and alert mind is -necessary for that, and the <i>campiere's</i> mind was wholly devoid of -thought. He fancied that he was watching because he was not moving. And -yet the mere falling of a pebble at his feet would have caused him to -fire his gun. He had his finger on the trigger. -</p> -<p> -Inspired by his desperate situation, Malacarne grasped the unfortunate -sentinel's throat in his iron hands, rolled down into the bastion with -him, and held him thus, unable to utter a sound, until one of his -comrades stabbed him in his arms. -</p> -<p> -In another moment they were crouching behind the battlements, protected -from the fire of the enemy. The fire blazing in the courtyard enabled -them to see the <i>campieri</i> unsuspectingly intent on their game, and -they took plenty of time to aim. The weapons were hurriedly reloaded while -the besieged were seeking theirs; but before they had thought of using -them—before they had discovered from what direction they were -attacked—a second volley was poured in upon them, and several were -severely wounded. Two did not rise again; a third fell head-foremost -into the fire, and was burned to death for lack of help. -</p> -<p> -From the tower the officer had seen where the attack had come from. He -rushed out, roaring with rage. He did not arrive in time to prevent his -men from wasting a volley on the wall. -</p> -<p> -"Stupid dolts!" he cried, "you waste your ammunition firing at random! -You have lost your wits! Leave the fort! Leave the fort! We must fight -outside!" -</p> -<p> -But he discovered that he himself had lost his wits, for he had left his -sword on the table on which he had fallen asleep. A flight of six steps -separated him from the room. He ascended them at a single leap, for he -knew that in a moment he would have to fight with cold steel. -</p> -<p> -But, during the fusillade, the Piccinino had succeeded in breaking his -bonds, and had taken advantage of the tumult to break down the -ill-secured door of his prison. He had pounced on the lieutenant's sword -and extinguished the pitch-pine torch that was stuck in a crack of the -table. When the officer returned, and was feeling about in the darkness -for his weapon, he received a terrific cut across the face, and fell -backward. Carmelo rushed upon him and finished him. Then he cut Verbum -Caro's bonds and handed him the lieutenant's sword, saying: "Do what you -can!" -</p> -<p> -The false Piccinino forgot in an instant his weakness and his suffering. -He dragged himself on his knees to the door, and there he succeeded in -rising and standing on his feet. But the real Piccinino, seeing that he -could not walk except by clinging to the walls, threw the officer's -cloak over him, put the military cap on his head, and told him to go out -at his leisure. Thereupon he himself went down into the deserted -courtyard, took the cloak from one of the <i>campieri</i> who had been -killed, disguised himself as best he could, and, always faithful to his -comrade, took him by the arm and led him toward the gateway of the fort. -</p> -<p> -Everybody had gone out except the two men who had been left behind to -prevent the prisoners from escaping in the confusion, and who were -returning to guard the tower. The fire in the courtyard was dying out, -and gave only a feeble light. -</p> -<p> -"The lieutenant is wounded!" cried one of them, as he saw Verbum Caro -leaning on Carmelo, who was himself disguised. -</p> -<p> -Verbum Caro did not reply, but motioned to them to go on and guard the -tower. Then he went out as rapidly as he could, with his chief, whom he -implored to fly without him, but who refused to abandon him under any -consideration. -</p> -<p> -If this was generous conduct on the Piccinino's part, it was no less -judicious; for, by giving his men such proofs of affection, he made sure -of their loyalty forever. The false Piccinino might have been recaptured -the next moment; but if he had been, no amount of torture could have -made him admit that his companion was the real Piccinino. -</p> -<p> -They were already fighting on the narrow platform in front of the -castle, and the brigands commanded by Fra Angelo pretended to give way. -But the <i>campieri</i>, deprived of their leader, did not act together or -in good order. When Malacarne's detachment, rushing down from the bastion -like a thunderbolt, took possession of the gateway and showed them that -retreat was impossible, they felt that they were lost, and halted as if -dazed by terror. At that moment Fra Angelo, Michel, Magnani and their -men turned upon them and pressed them so close that their plight seemed -desperate indeed. Thereupon the <i>campieri</i>, knowing that the brigands -gave no quarter, fought with the frenzy of despair. Crowded between two -walls, they had the advantage of position over the brigands, who were -obliged to avoid the precipice behind them. Moreover, Malacarne's band -had been struck with dismay. -</p> -<p> -As the two Piccininos crossed the drawbridge, the brigands, deceived by -their disguise, had fired on them. Verbum Caro was not touched, but -Carmelo, struck by a bullet in the shoulder, had fallen. Malacarne had -rushed at him to finish him, but, on recognizing his chief, had fairly -roared with grief, and his men, crowding about him, no longer thought of -fighting. -</p> -<p> -For a few moments Fra Angelo and Michel, who were fighting in the front -rank, hand-to-hand with the <i>campieri</i>, were in grave danger. Magnani -was even farther to the front; he tried to turn aside all the blows -aimed at Michel, for they had no time to reload their weapons and were -fighting with swords and knives, and the noble-hearted Magnani sought to -make his body a rampart to protect Agatha's son. -</p> -<p> -Suddenly Michel, who was constantly pushing him aside and begging him to -think of his own safety, missed him from his side. Michel thereupon -attacked the enemy fiercely. The first horror of bloodshed having passed -away, he was urged onward by a strange and terrifying nervous -excitement. He was not wounded. Fra Angelo, who had a superstitious -faith in the grandeur of the young prince's destiny, had prophesied that -he would not be. But if he had been wounded twenty times over, he would -not have been conscious of it, his vital forces were so concentrated in -his brain. He was, as it were, intoxicated by danger, and excited to -frenzy by the battle. It was a ghastly but intense pleasure; the blood -of Castro-Reale awoke and began to boil fiercely in the veins of the -lion's whelp. When the victory was won, and they were able to join -forces with Malacarne, walking over dead bodies, it seemed to Michel -that the contest had been too short and too easily decided. And yet it -had been so desperate that almost every man among the victors was more -or less severely wounded. The <i>campieri</i> had sold their lives dearly, -and if Malacarne had not recovered his energy when he saw that the -Piccinino was reviving and was able to fight, Fra Angelo's band would -have been forced back into the yawning ravine behind them. -</p> -<p> -The dull gray dawn was beginning to whiten the misty peaks on the -horizon when the assailants entered the conquered fortress. They had to -pass through it in order to retire into the mountains unseen by the -inhabitants of the village, who had left their horses and were timidly -climbing their steep rocky street to ascertain the result of the -engagement. Their anxious eyes could hardly distinguish the moving mass -of the combatants, lighted only by the flashing of their fire-arms. -While they were fighting hand-to-hand the pale-faced citizens of -Sperlinga stood frozen with terror, listening to the shouts and -imprecations of that incomprehensible struggle. They had no inclination -to assist the garrison, and most of them longed for the success of the -brigands. But the dread of reprisals restrained them from going to their -aid. At daybreak they could be seen, almost naked, standing in groups -here and there like trembling ghosts, manifesting an ill-defined purpose -to go to the assistance of the victors. -</p> -<p> -Fra Angelo and the Piccinino had no idea of waiting for them. They -rushed hurriedly into the fortress, each brigand dragging a body to give -it the <i>coup de grace</i>. They collected their wounded, and disfigured -those of their own number who were dead. But this ghastly scene, which -acted upon Verbum Caro like a tonic, disgusted the Piccinino beyond -measure. He instantly ordered his men to disperse, and to return to -their homes or places of refuge as speedily as possible. Then he took -Fra Angelo's arm, and entrusting Verbum Caro to the care of Malacarne -and his party, tried to induce the monk to fly with him. -</p> -<p> -But Fra Angelo was in a terrible state of anxiety concerning Michel and -Magnani, and went about from one to another, without mentioning any -names, asking for the two young monks who had accompanied him. He was -not willing to leave the place until he had found them, and his -desperate persistence threatened to expose him to grave danger. -</p> -<p> -At last the Piccinino spied two frocks at the bottom of the ravine. -</p> -<p> -"There are your companions," he said to the monk, leading him in that -direction. "They have gone ahead; and I can well imagine that they fled -from the sickening spectacle of our victory. But their delicacy doesn't -interfere with their being gallant fellows. Who are they, pray? I saw -them fighting like lions. They wear the dress of your order; but I -cannot understand how two such heroes can have been living in your -convent and I not know them." -</p> -<p> -Fra Angelo did not reply; with his bloodshot eyes he was trying to make -out the two monks. He recognized the frocks he had given Michel and -Magnani, but he could not understand their inaction, and the -indifference with which they held themselves aloof from the others. One -of them seemed to be seated, the other kneeling by his side. Fra Angelo -hurried down into the ravine so eagerly and recklessly that again and -again he nearly fell over the precipice. -</p> -<p> -The Piccinino, who was severely wounded, but strong of will and stoical -in his suffering, followed him, careless of his own safety, and they -soon reached the foot of the precipice, a spot shut in on all sides, and -terribly solitary, with a mountain torrent flowing at their feet. As -they had been compelled to make a detour about several steep cliffs, -they had lost sight of the two monks, and the darkness that still -prevailed in the depths of the gorge made it difficult for them to find -their way. -</p> -<p> -They dared not call; but at last they discovered the men they were -seeking. One was sitting on the ground, supported by the arms of the -other. Fra Angelo rushed forward and pushed back the hood that first met -his hand. He saw Magnani's handsome face, darkened by the shadow of -death; his blood was pouring out upon the ground; Michel was drenched -with it and felt that his strength was giving way, although he had no -other wound than that caused by his intense and intolerable sorrow at -his inability to help his friend, and at the feeling that he was dying -in his arms. -</p> -<p> -Fra Angelo tried to assist the noble-hearted artisan, but Magnani gently -put away the hand with which he would have touched his wound. -</p> -<p> -"Let me die in peace, padre," he said, in a voice so faint that the monk -was obliged to put his ear to the dying man's lips to hear what he said. -"I am happy that I am able to bid you good-bye. You will tell Michel's -mother and sister that I died defending him; but do not let Michel know -it! He will take care of my family, and you will console them. We won -the victory, did we not," he said to the Piccinino, glancing at him with -a lifeless eye and not recognizing him. -</p> -<p> -"O Mila!" exclaimed the Piccinino involuntarily, "you would have been a -brave man's wife!" -</p> -<p> -"Where are you, Michel? I cannot see you any more," said Magnani, -feeling for his friend with trembling hands. "We are safe here, aren't -we? at the gates of Catania, of course? You will soon embrace your -mother! Ah! yes, I hear the murmur of the naiad; the sound revives me; -the water flows into my wound—cold as ice, but very soothing." -</p> -<p> -"Live to see my mother and sister!" cried Michel. "Ah! you shall live, -we will never part!" -</p> -<p> -"Alas! I know what that smile means," said the Piccinino in an -undertone, examining Magnani's blue distorted lips; "do not let him talk -any more." -</p> -<p> -"But I am perfectly well!" exclaimed Magnani in a loud voice, putting -out his arms. "I do not feel ill at all. Let us go, my friends!" -</p> -<p> -He struggled to his feet with a convulsive movement, stood for an -instant swaying to and fro, then fell dead on the moist sand on the edge -of the stream. -</p> -<p> -Michel was utterly overwhelmed. Fra Angelo did not lose his presence of -mind, although from his breast, heaving with violent sobs, there issued -hoarse, heartrending groans. He lifted an enormous stone at the entrance -to one of the innumerable caves hollowed out of the sandstone long -before, to obtain material for building the fortress; he carefully -covered Magnani's body with the ample folds of the frock he wore, and, -having thus provided a temporary shroud, closed the cave once more with -the stone and left the body there. -</p> -<p> -Then he took Michel's arm, and walked with him and the Piccinino to a -more extensive excavation a hundred yards away, which was occupied as a -dwelling by a wretchedly destitute family. In the man who joined them -there a few moments later, Michel might have recognized one of the -peasants who were on friendly terms with the brigands, but Michel knew -nothing of what was going on, and recognized nobody. -</p> -<p> -The peasant assisted the monk to dress the Piccinino's wound, which was -deep and beginning to cause him much pain, so much that it required all -his strength of will to conceal it. -</p> -<p> -Fra Angelo was a better surgeon than most of his countrymen who held -diplomas. He performed a painful but rapid operation on the Piccinino, -and extracted the bullet. The patient did not utter a groan, and Michel -did not recover consciousness of his surroundings until he saw him turn -pale and grind his teeth. -</p> -<p> -"Are you going to die too, brother?" he said, taking his clenched hand. -</p> -<p> -"Would to God that I had died instead of your friend!" Carmelo replied, -in an outburst of fierce anger with himself. "I should no longer suffer, -and I should be mourned; whereas now I shall suffer all my life and -nobody will mourn for me!" -</p> -<p> -"Is this your gratitude for your brother's self-sacrificing devotion, my -friend?" said the monk, throwing the bullet on the ground. -</p> -<p> -"Brother," rejoined the Piccinino, putting Michel's hand to his lips, -"you did not do it from affection for me, I know; you did it for your -own honor. But you are revenged for my hatred; for you continue to hate -me, and I am doomed to love you!" -</p> -<p> -Two tears rolled down the brigand's pale cheeks. Were they a -manifestation of genuine emotion, or were they caused by the nervous -reaction that follows the violent strain of physical suffering? -Doubtless they were due in some measure to both causes. -</p> -<p> -The peasant suggested a strange remedy, which Fra Angelo accepted with -great eagerness: the application of a bituminous ooze which was found at -the bottom of a spring of brackish water heavily charged with sulphur. -The country people collect it and keep it in earthen jars to use in -making poultices; it is their panacea. Fra Angelo made a poultice of it -and placed it on the brigand's wound; then, having washed him and -covered him with some wretched clothes which they bought from the -peasant; having also washed off the blood with which Michel and himself -were covered, he gave his companions a few swallows of wine, placed -Carmelo on their host's mule, gave the man a round sum in gold, to prove -to him that there were advantages in serving the good cause, and left -him, having first made him swear that he would go the following night -and get Magnani's body, and bury it with as much respect as if it were -his own son's. -</p> -<p> -"My own son!" said the peasant in a hollow voice: "do you mean the one -the Swiss killed last year?" -</p> -<p> -This question gave Michel more confidence in the man than any promises -or oaths could have done. He looked at him for the first time, and -noticed an expression of extraordinary vigor and fanatical enthusiasm on -that wasted, earth-colored face. He was more than a brigand, he was a -wolf, a vulture, always ready to fall upon a bleeding quarry, to tear it -to pieces and glut his rage in its entrails. One could see that his -whole life would be too short to avenge his son's death. He did not -suggest to his guests that he should guide them in their flight. He was -in haste to have done with his duty to them, so that he could go up to -the castle to see if any <i>campiere</i> were still breathing and to insult -him in his death agony. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap52"></a>LII -<br><br> -CONCLUSION</h4> - -<p> -The three fugitives occupied twice the time in returning to Catania that -it had taken them to go to Sperlinga. The Piccinino could not travel -long without falling forward on his mule's neck, prostrated by fever. -Then they would halt in some cave or deserted ruin, and the monk was -obliged to give him wine to drink to keep up his strength, although he -realized that it increased the fever. -</p> -<p> -They had to follow steep and difficult roads, or rather to avoid every -sort of road, in order not to expose themselves to the risk of -inopportune encounters. Fra Angelo expected to find, halfway to Catania, -a poor family upon whom he could rely as upon himself, to shelter his -patient and nurse him; but he found only a deserted house, already half -in ruins. Poverty had driven the poor creatures from their home. They -could not pay the tax assessed on the house. Perhaps they were in -prison. -</p> -<p> -It was a serious disappointment to the monk and his companion. They had -purposely kept at a distance from the region overrun by the brigands, -because the absence of danger made the police less active in the -southern part of the island. But when they found the only place of -refuge upon which they could rely in that part of the mountains entirely -deserted, they were really alarmed. In vain did the Piccinino urge the -monk and Michel to leave him to his fate, declaring that, as soon as he -was alone, necessity would endow him with superhuman strength. They -refused, as the reader will imagine, and, having discussed all possible -expedients, they decided upon the safest and most certain of all, -although it seemed the boldest; it was to take Carmelo to the Palmarosa -palace and keep him in hiding there until he was in a condition to fly. -The princess would simply have to treat certain persons with the -faintest suggestion of deference to avert any possible suspicion of her -conduct; and in such an emergency, when Michel might be suspected of -having assisted in the rescue of the Piccinino, she would not hesitate -to deceive the court party as to her political sentiments. -</p> -<p> -This idea of the monk's would have been most repellent to Michel a few -days earlier; but each succeeding event made him more and more of a -Sicilian, by impressing upon him more strongly the necessity of cunning. -So he acquiesced, and they had nothing further to do except to smuggle -the wounded man into the palace unseen. That was the only important -point, for the seclusion in which Agatha lived, the small number and -blind devotion of her servants, the fidelity and prudence of her maid -Nunziata, who alone was allowed to enter certain rooms in the Casino, to -say nothing of a thousand other details of the princess's mysterious -existence, made that place of refuge as secure as could be desired. -Moreover, there was the Serra palace a few steps away, to which the -patient could be transported in case the Villa Palmarosa should become -untenable. It was decided that Michel should go ahead and steal into the -villa at nightfall; that he should warn his mother of the wounded man's -arrival, and assist her to make the necessary arrangements to receive -him and to admit him secretly a few hours later. -</p> -<p> -Agatha was in a state of anxiety impossible to describe when Nunziata -told her that some one was waiting for her in her oratory. She hastened -thither, and, catching sight of a monk's frock, nearly fainted, for she -thought that one of the brethren of Bel Passo had come to bring some -fatal news. But well disguised as Michel was, the mother's eye was not -deceived for long, and she embraced him passionately, bursting into -tears. -</p> -<p> -Michel said nothing of the dangers to which he had been exposed; she -would divine them soon enough when the news of the Piccinino's rescue -should spread through the country. He simply told her that he had been -to a wild, out-of-the-way spot in the mountains, where his brother lay -helpless and dying; that he had brought him to her to place him in her -care; and that his new hiding-place must be made ready for him. -</p> -<p> -In the middle of the night the wounded man arrived unhindered; but he -did not climb the stairs in the lava with the same haughty bearing as on -the last occasion. His strength was failing more and more. Fra Angelo -was obliged to carry him from the first stair to the last. He hardly -recognized Agatha, and for several days he hovered between life and -death. -</p> -<p> -Mila's anxiety was temporarily allayed when Michel told her that Magnani -had gone to Palermo to do him a service. But many days passed, and, as -Magnani did not return, his family was surprised and alarmed. Michel -pretended that he had had news. He had gone to Rome, still in his -service, and, later, he said that the important and secret business -which the Palmarosa family had entrusted to the young artisan required -him to go to Milan, Venice, Vienna—where you please. They kept him -travelling for several years, and, to allay the anxiety and grief of his -parents, read to them—for they did not know how to -read—passages from pretended letters, and gave them large sums of -money which he was supposed to send them. -</p> -<p> -The Magnani family grew rich, and marvelled at poor Antonio's good -fortune. They lived in sadness and hope. His old mother died, sorely -afflicted to have had no opportunity to embrace him, but bidding Michel -send him her blessing. -</p> -<p> -As for Mila, it would have been more difficult to deceive her, had not -the princess, in order to spare her a much greater sorrow, suggested a -catastrophe to which she could more readily become reconciled. She -hinted more and more definitely, and, finally, told her outright that -Magnani, torn between his former passion and his new love for her, had -feared that he could not make her happy, and so had gone away, resolved -not to return until he was completely cured of the past. -</p> -<p> -Mila looked upon this as a noble and honorable proceeding; but she was -piqued to find that she had not been able, unaided, to efface the memory -of so persistent a passion. She strove to cure herself, for she was told -that her lover's cure was not certain, and her unbounded pride came to -her aid. Magnani's prolonged absence made her stronger and braver day by -day. When he was supposed to have gone to Rome, she was told that he -could not triumph over the old affection, and that he renounced the new. -Mila did not weep; she prayed, without a shade of bitterness, for the -happiness of an ingrate, and gradually recovered her former serenity. -</p> -<p> -Michel suffered terribly, of course, when, as occasionally happened, he -heard her slighting references to the absent one, who deserved to be -enshrined forever in her memory. But he sacrificed everything to the -peace of mind of his adopted sister. He went secretly, with Fra Angelo, -to see his friend's grave. The peasant who had buried him conducted them -to the cemetery of a convent near by. Worthy monks, patriots like most -of the monks in Sicily, had borne the body thither by night, and had -inscribed these words in Latin on a stone which served as his monument, -among the white roses and flowering broom: -</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2"><i>Here reposes an unknown martyr.</i></span> -</div></div> - -<p> -The Piccinino's convalescence was longer than they had anticipated. The -wound healed quickly enough; but a nervous fever of some gravity -detained him three months in Agatha's boudoir, which was transformed -into his bedroom, and which was guarded with religious care. -</p> -<p> -A moral revolution was taking place in that headstrong and distrustful -young man. Michel's and the princess's solicitude, the extreme delicacy -of their consoling words, the innumerable joys of kindly treatment, -which he had lost with his mother and had never hoped to find again in -other hearts, gradually made an impression upon the pride and -indifference in which he had encased himself, as in a coat of mail. He -had always felt an ardent craving to be loved, although he was not -himself capable of being moved so powerfully and persistently by -affection as by hatred. At first he was, as it were, wounded and -humiliated by being compelled to be grateful. But it happened that -Agatha's heart, which had wrought a miracle upon Michel, did the same -for Carmelo. Agatha, although outwardly cold and fastidious in her -feelings, had such a vast and generous heart that she always ended by -loving those whom she pitied. There were many times still when the -patient's cold-blooded ideas horrified her; but pity gained the upper -hand when she realized how unhappy he was made by that determination to -harden his heart against everything. In his moments of physical -suffering and of nervous excitement, the Piccinino, after vaunting and -demonstrating his unerring keenness of vision in the matter of human -affections, deplored that unhappy faculty with a bitterness which made a -profound impression upon Agatha. -</p> -<p> -One evening, when she was talking about him with Michel, and he -confessed that he had no sympathetic feeling for his brother, she said -to him: -</p> -<p> -"Duty impels you to care for him, to incur danger for him, to overwhelm -him with favors and consideration. Very good; one must love one's duty, -and this brother of yours is a terrible trial. Duty would be easier if -you could love him. Try, Michel; perhaps, if you succeed, that warlike -heart of his will soften too, for he has the keen faculties of a sibyl. -It may be that he feels that you do not love him, and so he continues -cold to you. The instant that you have a feeling of sincere affection -for him, even though you do not manifest it, he will divine it and -perhaps will love you in his turn. I will try to set you the example. I -will strive to persuade myself that he is my son—a very different son -from you, Michel—and that his faults do not prevent my loving him." -</p> -<p> -Agatha kept her word, and Michel tried to second her. The Piccinino was -conscious of a genuine interest in his mental suffering amid all the -tender care bestowed upon his physical ills; he softened little by -little, and one day put Agatha's hand to his lips for the first time, -saying to her: -</p> -<p> -"You are good, like my mother. Oh! why am I not your son? Then I would -love Michel, because the same womb would have borne us both. Men are -really brothers only through the mother. She alone can make us -understand what is called the voice of blood, the cry of nature." -</p> -<p> -Another day he said to Michel: "I do not love you, because you are my -father's son. A man who mingled his pure blood with that of so many -women of diverse ranks and natures, must have had an unstable, -complicated character, lacking unity; so that his sons are as different -from one another as day is from night. If I should ever love you, whom I -already esteem and admire, it will be because you have a mother whom I -love, and who, I sometimes persuade myself, is my mother too." -</p> -<p> -When the Piccinino was in condition to resume his adventurous life, -which he had regretted so bitterly during the languorous days of his -illness, he was suddenly appalled at the idea of putting an end to an -existence which had become so sweet to him. He tried to assume a -careless air, and refused the offers of a happier lot which Agatha and -Michel made him; but it was evident that he was consumed by dismay and -regret. -</p> -<p> -"My dear boy," said the marquis, "you should accept the means of -increasing the scope and effectiveness of the mission to which you have -devoted yourself. It has never occurred to us to introduce you in a -puerile and cowardly way into the society which you despise and for -which you are not adapted. But, without submitting to any constraint, -without changing in any way your independent principles, you can make a -veritable alliance, over the heads of established laws, with veritable -humanity. Hitherto you have gone astray because you have forced yourself -to hate your fellowmen. It is their false and mischievous institutions -against which you protest. In the bottom of your heart, you love your -fellows, for you suffer by reason of their aversion and your own -isolation. So change your notion of your functions as <i>justicier -d'aventure</i>. Hitherto your aversion has usurped that title, for you -have used it only for your personal vengeance and for the gratification -of your instincts. What you have lacked for playing a nobler part and -serving our country more effectively is a larger stage and resources -proportioned to your ambition. Your brother offers you these resources; -he is ready to share his income with you; and such a division will make -you more powerful for your chosen work, without binding you to society -in any way. You could not, to be sure, become a noble and a landed -proprietor without entering into engagements to be sanctioned by law; -but, by accepting secretly, from brotherly affection, the strength which -you must have, you will remain a stranger to the world we live in, while -you will become capable of working to correct its vices. You will be -able to leave this unhappy island, where your efforts are too cramped to -have their due effect. You can seek elsewhere companions and neophytes, -enter into relations with the enemies of the public misery, work for the -cause of slaves everywhere, study the means of putting an end to -slavery, and return to us with knowledge and reinforcements which will -accomplish more in one year than expeditions against wretched -<i>campieri</i> would do in your whole life. Your faculties place you -far above the trade of brigand. Your penetration, your prudence, your -varied and extensive knowledge—everything even to the beauty of -your face and the charm of your speech—stamps you as a typical man -of action, prudent as well as daring, adroit as well as fearless. Yes, -you are a born conspirator. The hazard of birth started you upon that -path, and your character fits you to cut a most brilliant figure -therein. But there are great conspiracies which, even when they prove -abortive in one part of the world, forward the cause of universal -liberty: and there are paltry ones which come to an end on a scaffold, -with the unknown hero who organizes them. If you fall to-morrow in an -ambuscade, your band is scattered, and national independence breathes -its last in your breast. But conspire in the bright sunlight of -humanity, instead of lurking in the shadow of our precipices, and some -day you may be the liberator of our brothers instead of the terror of -our old women." -</p> -<p> -These words were at once harsh and flattering to the Piccinino's -sensitive self-love. The criticism of his past life cut him to the -quick, but the favorable judgment concerning his capacity for usefulness -in the future healed the wound. He blushed, turned pale, reflected and -understood. He was too intelligent to contend against the truth. Agatha -and Michel affectionately took his hands, and begged him on their knees -to accept half of a fortune the whole of which they owed to him. Tears -of pride, hope, joy, and perhaps of gratitude as well, started from his -glistening eyes, and he accepted. -</p> -<p> -We must not forget to say that another miracle had taken place, unknown -to all, in that strange man's heart. Love, true love, had vanquished -him. Mila had been his nurse, and Mila had chained the tiger. She was -proud of it, with good reason, and she was naturally very proud. The -love of Captain Piccinino relieved her in her own eyes from the blemish -upon her pride due to Magnani's desertion. She was brave too. She felt -that she was born for a more difficult and more brilliant destiny than -spinning silk. Her heroic and poetic instincts were exceedingly well -adapted to a life full of danger and excitement. Carmelo, who had -expressed his regret at their first interview that she was not a boy, -whom, like Lara, he could take for his page, changed his mind, saying to -himself that the beauty of a woman and the brave heart of a heroine -added immensely to the charm of the young comrade of whom he had -dreamed. -</p> -<p> -He did not obtain Mila at once, however. She voluntarily made herself -the pledge and reward of his docility in following the advice of the -princess and the marquis. I fancy that the day for the redemption of the -pledge will soon come, if it has not come already.—But here ends the -novel, which might last much longer, if I chose; for I persist in saying -that no novel can end. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<p><a id="part2"></a><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="ALDINIS">THE LAST OF THE ALDINIS</a></h4> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="INTRODUCTION">INTRODUCTION</a></h4> - -<p> -Novels are always works of the fancy to some extent, and some of the -fanciful conceits of the imagination are like clouds that pass over our -heads. Whence come the clouds, and whither do they go? -</p> -<p> -Walking through the forest of Fontainebleau one day, with my son, I -dreamed about something very different from this book, which I wrote -that same evening in a tavern, and forgot the next morning, to think -only of flowers and butterflies. I could describe minutely all our walks -and all our amusements, but it is impossible for me to say why my mind -flitted to Venice that evening. I might look about for a good reason, -but it is more honest to confess that I remember nothing about it. It -was some fifteen or sixteen years ago. -</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 60%;">GEORGE SAND</p> -<p> -Nohant, August 23, 1853 -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<p class="center"><i>To SIGNORA CARLOTTA MARLIANI</i></p> - -<p class="center">CONSULESSA DI SPAGNA</p> - -<p> -The sailors of the Adriatic do not launch a new vessel until it is -embellished with the image of the Virgin. May your name, written upon -this page, O my dear and lovely friend, be like the effigy of the divine -patron saint, which protects a fragile bark abandoned to the capricious -waves. -</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 60%;">GEORGE SAND</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="FIRST_PART">FIRST PART</a></h4> - -<p> -At the time of this story, Signor Lelio was no longer in the first bloom -of youth; whether because his lungs, by dint of performing their duty -with generous zeal, had developed in such a way as to distend the -muscles of his chest, or because of the great care with which singers -look after the preservation of the organ of melody, his body, which he -jocosely called the <i>casket</i> of his voice, had acquired a reasonable -degree of embonpoint. His leg, however, had retained all the elegance of -its shape, and the habitual grace of all his movements made him still -what the ladies, under the empire, called a <i>beau cavalier</i>. -</p> -<p> -But if Lelio was still able to fill the post of <i>leading man</i> on the -boards of La Fenice and La Scala, without offending good taste or the -probabilities; if his still beautiful voice and his great talent -maintained him in the first rank of Italian artists; if his abundant -locks, of a beautiful pearl-gray, and his great black eye, still full of -fire, continued to attract the glances of the gentler sex, in salons as -well as upon the stage, it is none the less true that Lelio was a -prudent man, most reserved and grave on occasion. A fact that will seem -strange to us is that, with all the charms which heaven had bestowed -upon him, with the brilliant triumphs of his honorable career, he was -not and had never been a libertine. He had, it was said, inspired great -passions; but whether because he had never shared them, or because he -had buried his romantic experiences in the oblivion of a generous -conscience, no one could say what the result had been of any of those -mysterious episodes in his life. The fact was that he had never -compromised any woman. The wealthiest and most illustrious houses of -Italy and Germany welcomed him cordially; he had never introduced -scandal or discord into any one of them. Everywhere he enjoyed the -reputation of a loyal, good-hearted man, whose virtue was beyond -reproach. -</p> -<p> -To us artists, too, his friends and companions, he was the best and most -lovable of men. But that serene cheerfulness, that kindly charm which -characterized him in his intercourse with society, did not altogether -conceal from us a background of melancholy and the existence of a secret -sorrow of long standing. One evening, after supper, as we were smoking -under our fragrant arbor at Sainte-Marguerite, Abbé Panorio talked to -us of himself, and described the poetic impulses and heroic combats of -his own heart with a touching candor worthy of all respect. Lelio, led -on by his example and infected by the generally effusive spirit of the -party, pressed also in some degree by the abbé's questions and Beppa's -glances, confessed to us at last that his art was not the only noble -passion he had known. -</p> -<p> -"<i>Ed io anchè</i>!" he exclaimed, with a sigh; "I too have loved, and -fought, and triumphed!" -</p> -<p> -"Had you taken a vow of chastity, pray, as he had?" queried Beppa, with -a smile, touching the abbé's arm with the end of her black fan. -</p> -<p> -"I never took any vow," replied Lelio; "but I have always been -irresistibly guided by a natural feeling of justice and truth. I have -never understood how one could be truly happy for a single day while -compromising another person's future. I will tell you, if you please, -the story of two periods of my life in which love played the leading -rôle, and you will understand that it cost me a little something to be, -I do not say a hero, but a man." -</p> -<p> -"That is a very solemn beginning," said Beppa, "and I fear that your -story will resemble a French sonata! You require a musical introduction, -so wait a moment! Does this key suit you?" -</p> -<p> -As she spoke she struck a chord or two on her lute, and played the first -measures of an <i>andante maestoso</i> by Dusseck. -</p> -<p> -"That is not the thing," said Lelio, stifling the notes of the lute with -Beppa's fan. "Play me rather one of those German waltzes in which Joy -and Sorrow, in a voluptuous embrace, seem to turn slowly round and -round, and to display in turn a pale tear-stained face and a radiant -brow crowned with flowers." -</p> -<p> -"Very good!" said Beppa. "Meanwhile Cupid plays the kit, and marks time -falsely, exactly like a master of the ballet; Joy impatiently stamps her -foot to incite the torpid musician who restrains her impetuosity; -Sorrow, utterly exhausted, turns her moist eyes upon the pitiless -fiddler to urge him to slacken that incessant whirling about, and the -audience, uncertain whether to laugh or cry, concludes to go to sleep." -</p> -<p> -And Beppa began the <i>ritornello</i> of a sentimental waltz, playing the -measures fast and slow alternately, making the expression of her -charming face, now glistening with joy, now doleful beyond words, -conform to that ironical mode of execution, and putting forth in that -musical mockery all the energy of her artistic patriotism. -</p> -<p> -"You are a narrow-minded creature!" said Lelio, passing his fingers over -the strings, whose vibration died away in a shrill, ear-piercing wail. -</p> -<p> -"No German organ!" cried the fair Venetian, laughing heartily and -abandoning the instrument to him. -</p> -<p> -"The artist's fatherland," said Lelio, "is the whole world, the great -<i>Bohemia</i>, as we say. <i>Per Dio</i>! make war if you please on -Austrian despotism, but let us respect the German waltz! Weber's -waltzes, O my friends! Beethoven's waltzes and Schubert's! Oh! listen, -listen to this poem, this drama, this scene of despair, of passion and -delirious joy!" -</p> -<p> -As he spoke, the artist touched the chords of the lute, and began to -sing with all the force of his voice and soul Beethoven's sublime -<i>Desire</i>; then, abruptly breaking off and throwing the still vibrating -instrument on the grass, he said: -</p> -<p> -"No song ever stirred my heart like that one. We may as well confess -that our Italian music appeals only to the senses or to the over-heated -imagination; that music speaks to the heart, to the most profound and -most exquisite sentiments. I was once like you, Beppa. I resisted the -power of German genius; for a long time I closed my bodily ears and the -ears of my intelligence to these Northern melodies, which I neither -could nor would understand. But the time has come when divine -inspiration is no longer called upon to halt on the frontiers of states -by reason of the color of its uniform or the pattern of its standards. -There are in the air I know not what angels or sylphs, invisible -messengers of progress, who bring us melody and poetic thoughts from all -points of the compass. Let us not bury ourselves under our own ruins; -but let our genius spread its wings and open its arms to espouse all the -contemporaneous geniuses beyond the Alps." -</p> -<p> -"Listen to him! how he raves!" cried Beppa, wiping her lute which was -already wet with dew; "and I took him for a reasonable man!" -</p> -<p> -"For a cold, perhaps a selfish man, eh, Beppa?" rejoined the artist with -a melancholy air, as he sat down. "Well, I myself have at times believed -that I was such a man; for I have done some reasonable things, and I -have made some sacrifices to the demands of society. But when in the -evening the bands of the Austrian regiments wake the echoes of our great -squares and our placid canals, with airs from <i>Der Freischutz</i> and -fragments of Beethoven's symphonies, then I find that I have tears in -abundance, and that my sacrifices have been worth but little. A new -sense seems to awake within me: the sadness of regret and a longing for -reverie, elements which seldom enter into our southern character, find -their way into my system through every pore, and I see clearly enough -that our music is incomplete, and that the art which I serve is -insufficient to express the impulses of my heart; that is why I am, as -you see, disgusted with the stage, surfeited with the excitement of -triumph, and in nowise desirous to win fresh applause by the old -methods; I would like to plunge into a life full of new emotions, and -find in the lyric drama an image of the drama of my whole life; but in -that case I should perhaps become as gloomy and despondent as a -Hamburger, and you would laugh at me without pity, Beppa! That must not -be. Let us drink, my good friends! <i>viva</i> merry Italy and Venice the -fair!" -</p> -<p> -He put his glass to his lips, then absent-mindedly replaced it on the -table without swallowing a drop of wine. The abbé answered him with a -sigh, Beppa pressed his hand, and after a few moments of melancholy -silence, Lelio, being urged to fulfil his promise, began his narrative -in these words: -</p> -<p> -I am, as you know, the son of a fisherman of Chioggia. Almost all the -people along that shore have a well developed thorax and a powerful -voice. Their voices would be beautiful if they did not ruin them early -in life on their boats by trying to drown the roar of the sea and the -wind, and by drinking and smoking beyond all reason, to avoid drowsiness -and fatigue. We Chioggiotes are a fine race. It is said that a great -French painter, <i>Leopoldo Roberto</i>, is even now engaged in -commemorating our type of beauty in a picture which he allows nobody to -see. -</p> -<p> -Although I am of a reasonably robust organization, as you see, my -father, on comparing me with my brothers, deemed me so frail and sickly -that he would not teach me either to cast the net or to sail a boat. He -simply showed me how to handle the oar with both hands, to row a small -boat, and sent me to Venice to earn my living as an assistant gondolier -for hire. It was a great sorrow and humiliation to me, thus to go into -bondage, to leave my father's house, the seashore and the honorable and -perilous trade of my ancestors. But I had a fine voice, I knew a goodly -number of fragments of Ariosto and Tasso. I had in me the making of an -excellent gondolier, and with time and patience, I might earn fifty -francs a month in the service of artists and strangers. -</p> -<p> -You do not know, Zorzi—at this point Lelio broke off his narrative -and turned to me—you have no idea how rapidly the taste and -appreciation of music and poetry develop among us common people. We had -then and we still have—although the custom threatens to die -out—our troubadours and poets, whom we call <i>cupids</i>; -itinerant rhapsodists they are, and they bring us from the central -provinces inaccurate notions of the mother-tongue, modified, I might -more properly say enriched, by all the genius of the dialects of the -north and south. Men of the people, like ourselves, endowed at once with -memory and imaginative power, do not hesitate at all to blend their -curious improvisations with the creations of the poets. Forever picking -up and dropping as they pass some novel turn of phrase, they embellish -their speech and the text of their authors with a most extraordinary -confusion of idioms. We might say that they preserve the instability of -the language in the frontier provinces and along the coast. In our -ignorance we accept as decisive the decisions of this itinerant academy; -and you have often had occasion to admire, sometimes the energy, -sometimes the grotesqueness of the Italian of our ports as rendered by -the singers of the lagoons. -</p> -<p> -On a Sunday at noon, after high mass, in the public square of Chioggia, -or in the evening, in the wine-shops on the shore, these rhapsodists, by -their recitations interspersed with bits of singing and declamation, -hold spellbound large and enthusiastic audiences. Ordinarily the -<i>cupid</i> stands on a table, and from time to time plays a prelude or -a finale of his own composition on some sort of an instrument; one on -the Calabrian bagpipe, another on the Bergamo viol, others on the -violin, flute or guitar. The Chioggians, outwardly phlegmatic and cold, -listen at first with an impassive and almost contemptuous air, smoking -vigorously; but at the mighty lance-thrusts of Ariosto's heroes, at the -death of the paladins, at the adventures of damsels delivered and giants -run through, the audience is roused, takes fire, shouts and works itself -into such a frenzy that glasses and pipes are shivered, tables and -chairs smashed, and often the <i>cupid</i>, on the point of falling a -victim to the excitement aroused by himself, is forced to fly, while the -enthusiasts scatter through the fields, in pursuit of an imaginary -ravisher, shouting: "<i>Amazza! amazza</i>! kill the monster! kill the -rascal! death to the brigand! bravo, Astolphe! courage, my good fellow! -forward! forward! kill! kill!"—And so the Chioggians, drunk with -tobacco smoke, wine and poetry, rush aboard their boats and declaim to -the waves and the winds scattered fragments of those soul-stirring -epics. -</p> -<p> -I was the least noisy and the most attentive of these enthusiasts. As I -was very regular in my attendance at the performances, and as I always -went away silent and thoughtful, my parents concluded that I was a -docile, simple-minded youth, desirous but incapable of learning the -noble arts. They considered my voice pleasant to hear; but, as my -tendency was toward purer accentuation and less frenzied declamation -than the <i>cupids</i> and their imitators, they decreed that, as a -singer no less than as a boatman, I was <i>good for the -city</i>—thus reversing your French saying with respect to things -of small value: <i>good for the country</i>. -</p> -<p> -I promised to tell you of two episodes only, not the whole story of my -life. So I will not detail all the sufferings through which I passed -before attaining the age of fifteen years and a very moderate degree of -skill as a gondolier, having subsisted meanwhile on rice and water and -blows of the oar across my shoulders. The only pleasure I had was in -listening to the serenaders; and, when I had a moment's leisure, I would -run after the musicians and follow them all over the city. That pleasure -was so intense that, even if it did not prevent my sighing for my -father's house, it would have prevented me from returning to it. -However, my passion for music had reached the point of sympathetic -enjoyment only, not of a personal inclination; for my voice was just -changing and seemed to me so unpleasant when I ventured timidly to try -it, that I looked forward to no other future than that of beating the -water of the lagoons all my life, at the service of the first comer. -</p> -<p> -My master and I often occupied the <i>traghetto</i>, or gondola stand, -on the Grand Canal in front of the Aldini Palace, near the image of -<i>Saint Zandegola</i>—a patois contraction of San Giovanni -Decollato. While we were waiting for customers, my master always slept, -and it was my duty to watch and offer to passers-by the service of our -oars. Those hours, which were often most uncomfortable in the scorching -days of summer, were delightful to me under the walls of the Aldini -palace, because of a superb female voice, accompanied by a harp, which I -could hear distinctly. The window through which those divine sounds came -forth was directly over my head, and the protruding balcony served me as -a protection against the heat of the sun. That little nook was my Eden, -and I never pass the place without a thrill at my heart as I remember -those modest joys of my boyhood. A silk curtain shaded the square -balcony of white marble, darkened by centuries and covered with -convolvulus and climbing plants, carefully tended by the fair hostess of -that palatial abode. For she was fair; I had caught a glimpse of her -sometimes on the balcony, and I had heard other gondoliers say that she -was the most amiable and most courted woman in Venice. I was then hardly -sensible of her beauty, although in Venice men of the lower classes have -eyes for women of the highest rank, and <i>vice versa</i>, so I am told. -For my own part, I was all ears; and when she appeared my heart beat -fast with joy, because her presence led me to hope that I might soon -hear her sing. -</p> -<p> -I had also heard the gondoliers on that stand say that the instrument -with which she accompanied herself was a harp, but their descriptions -were so confused that it was impossible for me to form a clear idea of -that instrument. Its tones enchanted me, and I was consumed with the -longing to see it rather than her. I drew a fanciful picture of it in my -mind, for I had been told that it was of pure gold and larger than I -was, and my master Masino had seen one decorated with the bust of a -beautiful woman who seemed about to fly away, for she had wings. So I -saw the harp in my dreams, sometimes in the shape of a siren, sometimes -in that of a bird; sometimes I fancied that I saw a beautiful boat -decked out with flags pass by, its silk cordage giving forth melodious -sounds. Once I dreamed that I found a harp among the reeds and the -seaweed; but, just as I put them aside to seize it, I woke with a start -and could never remember its shape distinctly. -</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>NELLO ENTERS THE ALDINI PALACE.</i></p> -<p class="smaller"> -<i>While my master was at the wineshop, I climbed -on the awning of my gondola, and thence to the sill -of a window on the lower floor; then I grasped the -balcony rail, drew myself up, climbed over it and -found myself behind the curtain.</i></p> -</div></div> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -My curiosity on this subject took such complete possession of my young -brain that one day I yielded to a temptation I had conquered many times. -While my master was at the wineshop, I climbed on the awning of my -gondola, and thence to the sill of a window on the lower floor; then I -grasped the balcony rail, drew myself up, climbed over it and found -myself behind the curtain. -</p> -<p> -I had before me the interior of a sumptuously furnished cabinet; but the -only object that struck my eye was the harp, standing silent amid the -rest of the furniture, above which it towered proudly. The ray of -sunlight which shone into the cabinet when I drew the curtain partly -aside fell upon the gilding of the instrument, and made the beautiful -carved swan that surmounted it gleam brightly. I stood motionless with -admiration, never wearying of examining its slightest details, the -graceful frame, which reminded me of the prow of a gondola, the slender -chords, which seemed to be of spun gold, the gleaming copper, and the -satin-lined wooden case, whereon were painted birds, flowers, and -butterflies, richly colored and of an exquisite workmanship. -</p> -<p> -However, amid all those superb objects, the shape and uses of which were -quite unfamiliar to me, my mind was still beset by doubt. Was I not -mistaken? Was it really the harp that I was looking at? I determined to -make sure of it; I entered the cabinet and placed an awkward, trembling -hand on the strings. O rapture! they answered to my touch. Impelled by -indescribable excitement, I made all those resonant voices speak, at -random and in a sort of frenzy, and I do not believe that the most -skilful and most skilfully led orchestra has ever, since that day, -afforded me so much pleasure as the horrible confusion of sounds with -which I filled Signora Aldini's apartment. -</p> -<p> -But my joy was not of long duration. A servant who was at work in the -adjoining rooms ran to investigate the noise, and was so enraged to find -that a little clodhopper in rags had stolen in that way and was -abandoning himself to the love of art with such shocking disregard of -the proprieties, that he set about expelling me by beating me out with -his broom. I did not care to be dismissed in that way, and prudently -retired to the balcony, intending to go away as I had come. But before I -could climb over the balustrade, the servant pounced upon me, and I -found myself confronted by the alternative of being beaten or turning a -ridiculous somersault. I adopted a violent course, namely, to avoid the -blow by stooping quickly, grasping my adversary by the legs, and thus -throwing him forward with his breast against the balcony rail. Then to -lift him up and throw him into the canal was the affair of a moment. -That is the game that the children practise on one another at Chioggia. -But I had no time to reflect that the balcony was twenty feet above the -water, and that the poor devil of a footman might not know how to swim. -</p> -<p> -Luckily for him and for me he came to the surface at once and clung to -the boats at the <i>traghetto</i>. I was horribly frightened when I tossed -him over; but, as soon as I saw that he was safe, I began to think about -making my escape; for he was roaring with rage and would surely set all -the pack of servants in the Aldini Palace upon me. I passed through the -first door I saw, and, hurrying through the corridors, was about to go -downstairs, when I heard indistinct voices apparently coming toward me. -I ran upstairs again in hot haste, and took refuge under the eaves, -where I hid in a garret among old worm-eaten pictures and discarded -furniture. -</p> -<p> -I remained there two days and two nights, without a mouthful of food, -afraid to venture forth into the midst of my enemies. There were so many -people and so much going and coming in that house that one could not -take a step without meeting some one. Through the little round windows -in the garret I heard the remarks of the servants in the corridors of -the floor below. They talked about me almost continuously, indulged in a -thousand conjectures concerning my disappearance, and promised to give -me a sound thrashing if they succeeded in catching me. I also heard my -master on his gondola expressing surprise at my absence, and exulting at -the thought of my return, with no less kindly designs. I was brave and -strong; but I realized that I should be overborne by numbers. The -prospect of being beaten by my master troubled me but little; that was -one of the hazards of being an apprentice, which involved no disgrace. -But the idea of being chastised by servants was so horrifying to me that -I preferred to die of hunger. And my adventure came very near ending in -that way. At fifteen years one does not readily endure starvation diet. -An old lady's-maid, who came to the garret in search of a runaway -pigeon, found instead of her fugitive the poor <i>barcarolino</i>, -unconscious and almost dead, at the foot of an old canvas representing a -Saint Cecilia. The point that impressed me most profoundly in my -distress was that the saint had in her arms a harp of antique shape, -which I had abundance of leisure to contemplate amid the torments of -hunger, and the sight of which became so hateful to me that for a long -time thereafter I could not endure the sight or sound of that fatal -instrument. -</p> -<p> -The good creature brought me back to life, and interested Signora Aldini -in my fate. I speedily recovered from the effects of my fasting, and my -persecutor, appeased by that expiation, accepted my acknowledgment of my -wrong-doing, and my somewhat abrupt, but sincere expression of regret. -My father, on learning from my master that I had disappeared, had come -to Venice. He frowned when Signora Aldini expressed a purpose to take me -into her service. He was a rough-mannered man, but proud and -independent. In his view it was bad enough that my delicate constitution -condemned me to live in the city. I was of too good a family to be a -footman, and although gondoliers enjoyed important privileges in private -establishments, there was a well-marked distinction in rank between -public gondoliers and <i>gondolieri di casa</i>. These last were better -dressed, to be sure, and shared the comforts of patrician life, but they -were ranked as servants, and there was no such blemish in my family. -However, Signora Aldini was so gracious and kindly that my excellent -father, twisting his red cap about in his hands in his embarrassment, -and constantly pulling his pipe from his pocket, as a matter of habit, -could find nothing to reply to her affable words and her generous -promises. He determined to leave me free to choose, expecting that I -would refuse. But I, although I was utterly disgusted with the harp, -could think of nothing but music. Signora Aldini exerted a magnetic -influence over me which I cannot describe; it was a genuine passion, but -an artistic passion, absolutely platonic and philharmonic. In the small -room on the lower floor to which I had been taken—for I had several -attacks of fever as a result of my fasting—I could hear her singing, -and on those occasions she accompanied herself on the harpsichord, for -she played equally well on several instruments. Intoxicated by her -voice, I could not even understand my fathers scruples, and I accepted -without hesitation the post of second gondolier at the Aldini palace. -</p> -<p> -It was good form in those days to be <i>well equipped</i> with gondoliers; -that is to say, that, as the gondola in Venice corresponds to the -carriage elsewhere, so gondoliers are at the same time luxuries and -necessaries, like horses. All the gondolas being practically alike, -according to the sumptuary law of the Republic, which required that they -should all be draped in black, persons of wealth could make themselves -noticeable among the multitude only by the figures and costumes of their -oarsmen. The fashionable patrician's gondola would be propelled, at the -stern, by a muscular man, of a masculine type of beauty; at the bow by a -negro dressed in some unusual style, or by a fair-haired native, a sort -of page or jockey, clad with taste and elegance, and placed there as an -ornament, like the figure-head of a ship. -</p> -<p> -I was perfectly adapted to that honorable post. I was a genuine child of -the lagoons, of fair complexion, ruddy-cheeked, very strong, with a -somewhat feminine figure, my head and feet and hands being remarkably -small, my chest broad and muscular, my arms and neck white and round and -sinewy. Add to this, amber-colored hair, fine and abundant, and -naturally curly; imagine a charming costume, half Figaro and half -Cherubino, legs generally bare, sky-blue trunk hose kept up by a scarlet -silk sash, and the breast covered simply by a shirt of embroidered -linen, whiter than snow; then you will have an idea of the poor actor in -embryo who was called in those days Nello, by contraction of his true -name, Daniele Gemello. -</p> -<p> -As it is the fate of small dogs to be petted by idiotic masters and -beaten by jealous servants, the ordinary lot of those in my position was -a mixture of unbounded tolerance on the part of the former, and of -brutal hatred on the part of the latter. Luckily for me, Providence cast -my lines in a blessed spot: Bianca Aldini was the incarnation of -kindness, indulgence, and charity. Widowed at twenty, she passed her -life helping the poor and comforting the afflicted. Where there were -tears to be wiped away, or alms to be bestowed, you would soon see her -hurrying thither in her gondola, with her little four-year-old daughter -in her lap; a fascinating miniature, so tiny, so pretty, and always so -daintily dressed that it seemed as if her mother's lovely hands alone, -in all the world, were soft and gentle and tapering enough to touch her -without crushing or bruising her. Signora Aldini herself was always -dressed with a taste and elegance which all the other ladies in Venice -tried in vain to equal; she was immensely rich, loved luxury, and spent -half of her income in the gratification of her artistic tastes and her -patrician habits. The other half went in almsgiving, in favors bestowed, -in benefactions of every sort. Although that was a sufficiently generous -<i>widow's mite</i>, as she called it, she artlessly accused herself of -lacking energy, of not doing all that she ought; and, being moved to -repentance rather than pride by her charity, she determined every day -that she would leave society and devote herself to her own salvation. -From this mixture of feminine weakness and Christian virtue you can see -that she had not a strong mind, and that her intelligence was no more -enlightened than the period and the social circle in which she lived -demanded. For all that, I do not know that a better or more delightful -woman ever lived. Other women, jealous of her beauty, her wealth and her -virtue, avenged themselves by declaring that she was narrow-minded and -ignorant. There was some truth in that charge, but Bianca was a most -lovable woman, none the less. She had a reserve stock of common sense -which prevented her from ever being ridiculous; and as for her lack of -education, the ingenuous modesty which resulted from it was an -additional charm. I have seen the most enlightened and most -serious-minded men gathered about her, never weary of conversing with -her. -</p> -<p> -Living thus at church and at the theatre, in the poor man's garret and -at sumptuous palaces, she imposed gratitude or cheerfulness upon one and -all. Her disposition was even and playful, and the character of her -beauty was enough to shed serenity all about her. She was of medium -height, as white as milk, and fresh as a flower; all was gentleness and -youth and kindliness. Just as one would have looked in vain for a sharp -angle in her own graceful person, so there was never the slightest -asperity in her temper, the slightest break in her goodness. As active -as the true spirit of devotion, and at the same time as inert as -Venetian indolence, she never passed more than two hours during the day -in the same place; but in her palace she was always lying on a sofa, and -out-of-doors she was always stretched out in her gondola. She said that -she was weak on her legs, and she never went up or down stairs without -being supported by two persons; in her own apartments she always leaned -on the arm of Salomé, a young Jewess, who waited upon her and acted as -her companion. People said that Signora Aldini was lame as a result of -the fall of a piece of furniture which her husband had pushed upon her -in a fit of anger, and which had broken her leg. Although for more than -two years she leaned on my arm as she went in and out of her palace, I -never discovered the exact truth of the matter, she took so much pains -and exerted so much skill to conceal her infirmity. -</p> -<p> -Despite her benevolence and sweetness of disposition, Bianca lacked -neither discrimination nor prudence in the choice of her associates; I -can safely say that I have never seen in any other place so many -excellent people together. If you detect in me any kindness of heart, -any praiseworthy pride, you must attribute it to my stay in that house. -It was impossible not to contract the habit there of thinking, speaking -and acting rightly; the servants were honest and hard-working, the -friends faithful and devoted; even the lovers—for I cannot deny that -there were lovers—were loyal and honorable. I had several masters -while I was there; of them all the signora was the least imperious. -However, they were all kind, or at all events just. Salomé, who was the -executive officer of the household, maintained order with some little -severity; she seldom smiled, and the great arch of her eyebrows was -rarely divided into two quarter circles over her long black eyes. But -she had much patience, a keen sense of equity, and a searching glance -which never misinterpreted sincerity. Mandola, the chief gondolier and -my immediate superior, was a Lombard giant, whose huge black whiskers -and muscular frame might have led one to take him for Polyphemus. -Nevertheless he was the mildest, calmest and most humane peasant who -ever came down from his mountains to the civilization of great cities. -Lastly, Count Lanfranchi, the handsomest man in the whole Republic, whom -we had to row about every evening in a closed gondola with Signora -Aldini, from ten o'clock to midnight, was the most gracious and amiable -nobleman whom I have ever met. -</p> -<p> -I never knew anything of the late Signor Aldini except a full-length -portrait, at the entrance to the gallery, in a superb frame, which stood -out a little from the wall, and seemed to command a long file of -ancestors, each darker and more venerable than the last, who receded, in -chronological order, into the obscure depths of that vast room. Torquato -Aldini was dressed in the latest fashion of his time, with a shirt-frill -of Flanders lace and a morning coat of apple-green cloth with bright red -frogs. He was beautifully frizzled and powdered. But, despite the -elegance of that pastoral undress, I could not look at him without -lowering my eyes; for there was upon his yellowish-brown face, in his -blazing black eye, on his sneering and disdainful mouth, in his -impassive attitude, and even in the dictatorial gesture of his long, -thin, diamond-laden hand, such an expression of overbearing arrogance -and inflexible harshness as I had never met with under the roof of that -palace. It was a beautiful portrait, and the portrait of a handsome -young man. He died at twenty-five, from wounds received in a duel with -a Foscari, who dared to say that he was of a better family. He had left -behind him a great reputation for courage and decision of character, but -it was whispered that he had made his wife very unhappy, and the -servants did not seem to regret him. He had kept them in such a state of -dread that they never passed that picture after dark, startlingly true -to life as it was, without uncovering as they would have done before -their former master in person. -</p> -<p> -His hardness of heart must have caused the signora much suffering, and -have disgusted her with the married state, for she refused to enter into -a new contract, and rejected the best <i>partis</i> in the Republic. And -yet she evidently had a yearning for love, for she tolerated Count -Lanfranchi's assiduous attentions and seemed to deny him none of the -joys of marriage except the indissoluble oath. After a year, the count, -abandoning all hope of inspiring in her the necessary confidence for -such an engagement as he desired, sought fortune elsewhere, and -confessed to her that a certain wealthy heiress gave him more reason to -hope. The signora generously gave him his liberty at once. She seemed -depressed and ill for a few days, but at the end of a month the Prince -of Montalegri took the place in the gondola left vacant by the -ungrateful Lanfranchi, and for another year Mandola and I rowed that -amiable and seemingly fortunate couple about the lagoons. -</p> -<p> -I was very deeply attached to the signora. I could imagine nothing on -earth lovelier and better than she was. When she turned her sweet, -almost motherly glance upon me, when she smilingly said a pleasant word -to me—no others could come from her lovely lips—I was so -proud and happy that, to afford her a moment's pleasure, I would have -thrown myself under the <i>Bucentaur's</i> sharp keel. When she gave me -an order, I flew; when she leaned on me, my heart beat fast for joy; -when, to call the Prince of Montalegri's attention to my fine hair, she -gently placed her snow-white hand on my head, I flushed with pride. And -yet I was not jealous as I plied my oar with the prince seated beside -her. I replied gayly to the kindly jests which the gentlemen of Venice -love to exchange with the gondoliers, to test their wit and gift of -repartee; and, despite the extraordinary liberty accorded to the -challenged boatman under such circumstances, I had never felt the -slightest inclination to make a bitter retort to the prince. He was an -excellent young man; I was grateful to him for consoling the signora for -Signor Lanfranchi's desertion. I had not that ridiculous humility which -grovels before the privileges of high rank. We hardly recognize those -privileges in this country, in the matter of love, and we recognized -them even less in those days. There was not so much difference in age -between the signora and myself that I might not fall in love with her. -The fact is that I should be sorely embarrassed to-day to give a name to -my feeling for her at that time. It was love, perhaps, but love as pure -as my age; and tranquil love, because I was neither ambitious nor -covetous. -</p> -<p> -In addition to my youth, my zeal in her service, and my mild and -cheerful disposition, my love for music had pleased the signora -particularly: it delighted her to see my emotion at the sound of her -beautiful voice, and whenever she sang she sent for me. In her affable, -unceremonious way, she would bid me come into her cabinet and permit me -to sit beside Salomé. It seemed to me that she would have liked to see -that inflexible task-mistress lay aside a little of her habitual -austerity with me. But Salomé was to me a much more awe-inspiring -person than the signora, and I was never tempted to be bold when she was -present. -</p> -<p> -One day the signora asked me if I had any voice. I answered that I used -to have, but that I had lost it. She wished me to try it before her. I -objected, but she insisted upon it, and I had no choice but to yield. I -was in dire distress, and convinced that it would be impossible for me -to utter a sound, for it was fully a year since I had thought of such a -thing. I was then seventeen years old. My voice had come back, but I had -no suspicion of it. I put my head between my hands and tried to remember -a passage from the <i>Jerusalem</i>. By a mere chance I hit upon the -passage which describes Olinde's love for Sophronia, and ends with this -line: <i>Brama assai, poco spera, nulla chiede</i>. Thereupon, summoning -courage, and yelling with all my strength, as if I were in mid-ocean, I -made the thunderstruck hangings resound with that plaintive, sonorous -lament, to which we sing on the lagoons of the exploits of Roland and -the loves of Herminie. I had no suspicion of the effect I should -produce. Expecting to hear the hoarse squeak which my throat produced -when I last made the experiment, I nearly fell over backward when the -organ which I unknowingly concealed within me manifested its power. The -pictures hanging on the wall trembled, the signora smiled, and the -strings of the harp replied to that resounding voice with a long -vibration. -</p> -<p> -"<i>Santo Dio</i>!" cried Salomé, dropping her work and putting her hands -over her ears, "the lion of St. Mark's would roar no louder!" -</p> -<p> -The little Aldini, who was playing on the floor, was so terrified that -she began to shriek and weep. -</p> -<p> -I cannot say what the signora did. I only know that she and the child -and Salomé and the harp and the cabinet all disappeared, and that I ran -at full speed through the streets, having no idea what demon urged me -on, until I reached <i>Quinta-Valle</i>. There I jumped into a boat and -rowed to the great plain which is now called the Field of Mars, and is -still the most deserted spot in the city. As soon as I was alone and -free, I began to sing with all the strength of my lungs. Miraculous! I -had a voice of more power and range than any of the <i>cupids</i> I used -to admire at Chioggia. Hitherto I had supposed that I had not power -enough, and I really had too much. It overflowed—it overwhelmed -me. I threw myself face downward in the long grass, and, yielding to a -paroxysm of delirious joy, burst into tears. O the first tears of the -artist! They only can be compared in sweetness, or in bitterness, with -the first tears of the lover. -</p> -<p> -Then I began to sing again, and repeated a hundred times in succession -the scattered fragments I had remembered. As I sang on, the -ear-splitting harshness of my voice wore off, and I felt that it became -more flexible and tractable every moment. I felt no fatigue, the more I -practised, the easier my respiration seemed. Then I ventured to try some -of the operatic arias and romanzas which I had heard the signora sing in -the past two years. In those two years I had worked hard and learned a -great deal without suspecting it. Method had found its way into my head, -by virtue and by instinct, and musical feeling into my heart by -intuition and sympathy. I have very great respect for study, but I must -admit that no singer ever studied less than myself. I was blessed with a -marvellous readiness and memory. If I had once heard a passage, I could -repeat it instantly and accurately. I tried that experiment that very -day, and succeeded in singing from beginning to end the most difficult -pieces in Signora Aldini's repertory. -</p> -<p> -The approach of night warned me to allow my excitement to subside. Then -for the first time I realized that I had absented myself from my duties -for a whole day, and I returned to the palace, embarrassed and repenting -bitterly of my fault. It was the first of that sort I had committed, and -I dreaded nothing so much as a rebuke from the signora, however mild it -might be. She was at supper, and I crept timidly behind her chair. I -never waited on her at table, for I had retained the pride of a true -Chioggian, and had surrendered none of the exemptions attached to my -privileged post. But, seeking to repair my fault by an act of humility, -I took from Salomé's hands the porcelain dish she was about to offer -her, and put out my hand awkwardly enough. Signora Aldini pretended at -first not to notice, and allowed me to serve her thus for several -minutes; then, as she stealthily looked up and met my piteous glance, -she suddenly burst out laughing, and threw herself back in her chair. -</p> -<p> -"Your ladyship is spoiling him," said the stern Salomé, repressing an -imperceptible desire to share her mistress's merriment. -</p> -<p> -"Why should I scold him?" replied the signora. "He frightened himself -this morning, and ran away to punish himself, poor boy! I will bet that -he has eaten nothing to-day. Go to your supper, Nellino. I forgive you -on condition that you will sing no more." -</p> -<p> -This kindly sarcasm seemed very bitter to me. It was the first one I had -ever noticed; for, despite all the opportunities offered for the -development of my vanity, that was a sentiment with which I was not as -yet acquainted. But pride awoke in me with power, and by making sport of -my voice, she seemed to deny my heart and to attack my very life. -</p> -<p> -From that day the lessons which the signora unconsciously gave me, by -practising in my presence, became more and more profitable to me. Every -evening, as soon as my duties were at an end, I went to the Field of -Mars to practise, and I knew that I was making progress. Soon the -signora's lessons were no longer sufficient for me. She sang for her own -pleasure, displaying a superb indifference for study, and making no -effort to perfect herself. I had a most immoderate longing to go to the -theatre; but, during the whole time of the performance, it was my lot to -watch the gondola, as Mandola enjoyed the privilege of taking a seat in -the pit or listening in the corridors. At last, however, I induced him -to let me take his place during a single act of the opera at La Fenice. -The opera was the <i>Secret Marriage</i>. I will not attempt to describe my -feelings: I nearly went mad, and, breaking the promise I had made my -companion, I allowed him to cool his heels in the gondola, and never -thought of going out until I found that the hall was empty and in -darkness. -</p> -<p> -After that I felt an irresistible, imperious craving to go to the -theatre every night. I dared not ask Signora Aldini's permission; I was -afraid that she would again make fun of my unfortunate passion—as she -called it—for music. However, I must go to La Fenice or die. I had -the reprehensible thought of leaving the signora's service and earning my -living as a <i>facchino</i> during the day, so that I might have both time -and means to go to the theatre. I calculated that with the small sum I -had saved at the Aldini Palace, and by reducing my expenditure for food -and clothing to what was absolutely necessary, I might be able to -gratify my passion. I also thought of entering the employ of the theatre -as a scene-shifter, supernumerary, or lamp-lighter; the most humble post -would have seemed delightful to me, provided that I could listen to -music every day. At last I determined to open my heart to the -good-humored Montalegri. He had heard of my musical misadventure. He -began by laughing; then, as I boldly persisted, he demanded, as a -condition of his assistance, that I should let him hear my voice. I -hesitated a long while; I was afraid that he would discourage me by his -jests, and although I had no definite plans for the future, I felt that -to deprive me of the hope of being able to sing some day would be like -tearing out my life. However, I submitted to the inevitable: I sang in a -trembling voice a fragment of one of the airs which I had heard a single -time at the theatre. My emotion won the prince's heart; I saw in his -eyes that he took pleasure in listening to me; I took courage and sang -better and better. He raised his hands two or three times to applaud, -but checked himself for fear of interrupting me; then I sang really -well, and when I had finished, the prince, who was a genuine dilettante, -almost kissed me, and praised me in the warmest terms. He took me to the -signora and presented my petition, which was granted on the spot. But -she too wanted me to sing, and I would not consent. My proud persistence -in refusing astonished Signora Aldini without irritating her. She -thought that she would overcome it later, but she did not easily -succeed. The more I attended the theatre, and the more I practised and -improved, the more conscious I became of all that I still lacked, and -the more I dreaded to allow others to hear me and judge me before I was -sure of myself. At last one superb moonlight night, on the Lido, as the -signora, by lengthening her usual row, had made me miss the theatre and -my hour of solitary practice, I was suddenly seized with a longing to -sing, and I yielded to the inspiration. The signora and her lover -listened to me in silence; and, when I had finished, they did not -address a word to me, either of praise or blame. Mandola alone, having -the keen taste for music of a true Lombard, cried several times when he -heard my youthful tenor: "<i>Corpo del diavolo! che buon basso</i>!" -</p> -<p> -I was a little hurt by my mistress's heedlessness or indifference. I -knew that I had sung well enough to deserve a word of praise from her -mouth. Nor did I understand the prince's coldness after the praise he -had lavished on me two months earlier. I learned afterward that my -mistress was amazed by my talent and my powers, but that she had -determined to seem unmoved by my first attempt, to punish me for making -her beg so long. -</p> -<p> -I took the lesson to heart, and a few days later, when she called on me -to sing while she was in the gondola, I complied with a good grace. She -was alone, lying on the cushions of the gondola, and seemed to be in a -melancholy frame of mind, which was by no means usual with her. She did -not speak a word to me during the row; but when we returned and I -offered my arm to assist her up the steps of the palace, she said these -words to me, which left me in a strangely excited state: -</p> -<p> -"Nello, you have done me a vast deal of good. I thank you." -</p> -<p> -On the days following, I myself offered to sing. She seemed to accept my -offer with gratitude. The heat was most intense and the theatres were -closed; the signora said that she was ill; but what made the most -impression on me was the fact that the prince, who was usually so -assiduous in his attendance, had ceased to come with her oftener than -once in two or three or even four evenings, I thought that he too was -beginning to be unfaithful and I grieved for my poor mistress. I could -not understand her obstinacy in refusing to marry; it seemed most unfair -to me that Montalegri, who seemed to be so kind and gentle, should be -sacrificed to the sins of the late Torquato Aldini. On the other hand, I -could not understand why so sweet and lovely a woman should have for -lovers only base speculators who were more covetous of her fortune than -attached to her person, and sickened of the latter as soon as they -despaired of obtaining the former. -</p> -<p> -These thoughts engrossed me so completely for several days that, -notwithstanding my profound respect for my mistress, I could not refrain -from communicating my ideas to Mandola. -</p> -<p> -"Don't make that mistake," he replied; "what has happened this time is -just the opposite of what happened with Lanfranchi. The signora is sick -of the prince and invents every day some new excuse to prevent his -coming with her. What is the reason? That I cannot guess, for we see her -all the time and know that she is alone, that she has no rendezvous with -anyone. Perhaps she is turning religious altogether, and means to cut -loose from society." -</p> -<p> -That same evening I started to sing to the signora a hymn to the Virgin; -but she interrupted me instantly, saying that she had no desire to -sleep, and asked for the loves of Armide and Renaud. -</p> -<p> -"He made a mistake," said Mandola, who had a certain shrewdness of his -own, pretending to apologize for me. I changed my selection, and was -listened to with attention. -</p> -<p> -I soon discovered that by singing in the open air and while the gondola -was in motion, I tired myself a good deal, and that my voice was -suffering. I consulted a teacher of music who came to the palace to give -lessons to little Alezia Aldini, then six years old. He told me that, if -I continued to sing out-of-doors, I should ruin my voice before the end -of the year. That threat frightened me so that I resolved to sing no -more under those conditions. But on the next day the signora asked me, -with such a melancholy air, with such a sweet glance and such pale -cheeks, to sing the barcarole from <i>La Biondina</i>, that I had not the -heart to deny her the only pleasure that she had seemed capable of -enjoying for some time past. -</p> -<p> -It was evident that she was growing thin and losing her bloom; she kept -the prince more and more at a distance. She passed her life in the -gondola, and even neglected the poor a little. She seemed to be giving -way to a profound depression the cause of which we sought in vain. -</p> -<p> -There was one week when she apparently tried to divert her thoughts. She -surrounded herself with company, and in the evening her gondola was -attended by several others in which she placed her friends and the -musicians hired to sing for them. Once she asked me to sing. I declined, -alleging my unfitness to perform in the presence of professional -musicians and numerous <i>dilettanti</i>. She insisted, gently at first, -then with some irritation; I continued to refuse, and at last she ordered -me, in a most imperative tone, to obey her. It was the first time in her -life that she had lost her temper. And I, instead of reflecting that it -was her illness which had changed her disposition thus, and humoring -her, yielded to the suggestion of invincible pride, and declared that I -was not her slave, that I had hired myself to her to row her gondola and -not to entertain her guests; and, in a word, that I had nearly ruined my -voice for her amusement, and that she rewarded me so ill for my -self-sacrifice that I would sing no more for her or anyone else. She -made no reply; the friends who accompanied her, amazed at my audacity, -held their peace. A few minutes later, Salomé uttered a sharp -exclamation and seized little Alezia, who, having fallen asleep in her -mother's arms, nearly fell into the water. The signora had fainted some -moments before, and no one had noticed it. -</p> -<p> -I dropped my oar; I talked at random; I went to the signora's side; I -should have done some insane thing or other, if the prudent Salomé had -not imperiously sent me back to my post. The signora came to herself and -we made haste back to the palace. But the company was surprised and -shocked, the music was all awry; and, for my own part, I was in such -despair and terror, that my trembling hands could not hold the oar. I -lost my wits, I ran into all the other gondolas. Mandola swore at me; -but I, deaf to his warnings, turned every moment to look at Signora -Aldini, whose pale face seemed, in the moonlight, to bear the stamp of -death. -</p> -<p> -She passed a bad night; the next day she was feverish and kept her bed. -Salomé refused to admit me. In spite of her refusal I stole into the -bedroom and dropped on my knees beside the signora, weeping bitterly. -She held out her hand, which I covered with kisses, and told me that I -had done right to resist her. -</p> -<p> -"I have been exacting, capricious and cruel for some time past," she -added with an angelic sweetness. "You must forgive me, Nello; I am ill, -and I feel that I cannot control my temper as usual. I forget that you -are not destined to remain a gondolier, and that a brilliant future is -in store for you. Forgive me for this too; my friendship for you is so -great that I had a selfish desire to keep you with me, and to bury your -talent in this humble and obscure position which is ruining your -prospects. You defended your independence and your dignity and you did -well. Henceforth you shall be free, you shall study music; I will spare -no pains to keep your voice unharmed and to develop your talent; you -shall perform no other service for me than such as is dictated by -affection and gratitude." -</p> -<p> -I swore that I would serve her all my life; that I would rather die than -leave her; and, in truth, my attachment to her was so deep and so pure -that I did not consider that I was taking a rash oath. -</p> -<p> -She was better after that, and insisted on my taking my first lessons in -singing. She was present, and seemed to take the keenest interest. In -the intervals between the lessons, she made me study and recite to her -the elementary principles of music, of which I had not the slightest -idea, although I had instinctively conformed to them when I sang -naturally. -</p> -<p> -My progress was rapid. I ceased to do hard work of any kind. The signora -pretended that the double movement caused by the two oars in alternation -tired her, and Mandola's wages were doubled so that he might not -complain of having to do all the work alone. As for myself, I was always -in the gondola, but I sat in the bow, occupied solely in looking into my -mistress's eyes to divine what I should do to please her. Her lovely -eyes were very sad—very pensive. Her health improved at times, then -became worse again. That was my only sorrow, but it was very keen. -</p> -<p> -She lost her strength more and more, and the assistance of our arms was -no longer sufficient when she went upstairs. It became Mandola's duty to -carry her like a child, as I carried little Alezia. That young lady grew -more beautiful every day; but her style of beauty and her temperament -made her the exact opposite of her mother. Alezia was as dark as her -mother was fair. Her hair already fell to her knees in two heavy ebony -braids; her little, soft, round arms stood forth like those of a young -Moor against her silk clothing, always white as snow; for she was -consecrated to the Virgin. As for her temperament, it was very strange -for one of her years. I have never seen a child so grave and distrustful -and silent. She seemed to have inherited the haughty nature of Signor -Torquato. She was never on familiar terms with anyone; she never used -the familiar words of address with any of us. A caress from Salomé she -seemed to consider an insult, and the very utmost I could obtain, by -dint of carrying her, waiting upon her and flattering her, was -permission to kiss once a week the tips of her little pink fingers, of -which she was already as careful as the most coquettish woman could have -been. She was very cold to her mother, and passed long hours seated by -her side in the gondola, with her eyes fixed on the water, silent, -apparently insensible to everything, and as dreamy as a statue. But if -the signora ventured to reprove her ever so mildly, or if she went to -bed because of an attack of fever, the little one would fly into one of -those paroxysms of frantic despair which aroused fears for her life or -her reason. -</p> -<p> -One day she fainted in my arms because Mandola, who was carrying her -mother, slipped on one of the steps and fell with her. The signora was -slightly hurt, and from that day was unwilling to trust the skill of the -Lombard giant. She asked me if I were strong enough to take his place. I -was then at the height of my muscular development, and I told her that I -could carry four women like herself and eight children like hers. After -that I always carried her, for her strength did not return up to the -time that I left her. -</p> -<p> -The time soon came when the signora seemed to be less light and the -staircase harder to ascend. It was not because her weight was -increasing, but because my strength failed me as soon as I took her in -my arms. At first I did not understand it; then I reproached myself -bitterly; but my emotion was insurmountable. That willowy and voluptuous -figure which abandoned itself to me, that charming face almost touching -mine, that alabaster arm around my bare and burning neck, that perfumed -hair mingling with mine—it was too much for a lad of seventeen. It -was impossible for her not to feel the hurried beating of my heart, and -read in my eyes the disturbance that she caused in my senses. "I tire -you," she would sometimes say with a languishing air. I could not reply -to that sarcasm; my head would begin to whirl, and I was forced to run -away as soon as I had placed her in her chair. One day it happened that -Salomé was not, as usual, in her cabinet to receive her. I had some -difficulty in arranging the cushions so that she could sit comfortably. -My arms met around her waist. I found myself at her feet, my dizzy head -resting on her knees. She ran her fingers through my hair. The sudden -quivering of that hand revealed to me that of which I had had no -conception. I was not the only one who was moved; I was not the only one -on the point of giving way. We were no longer servant and mistress, -gondolier and signora; we were a young man and a young woman who loved -each other. A sudden light flashed through my mind and darted from my -eyes. She hastily pushed me away, and exclaimed, in a stifled voice: -"<i>Go</i>!" I obeyed, but as a conqueror. I was no longer the servant -receiving an order, but the lover making a sacrifice. -</p> -<p> -Thereupon blind desire took possession of my whole being. I did not -reflect; I felt neither fear nor scruple nor doubt. I had but one fixed -idea, to be alone with Bianca. But that was more difficult than one -might presume from her independent position. It seemed as if Salomé -divined the danger, and had taken upon herself the task of protecting -her mistress from it. She never left her, except sometimes at night when -little Alezia wanted to go to bed at the hour when her mother went out -in the gondola. At such times Mandola inevitably accompanied us on the -lagoons. I saw plainly enough, by the signora's expression and her -uneasiness, that she could not help desiring a tête-à-tête with me; -but she was too weak either to seek it or to avoid it. I did not lack -boldness or resolution, but not for anything under heaven would I have -compromised her; and furthermore, so long as I had not actually won a -victory in that delicate condition of affairs, my rôle might well be -supremely ridiculous, even contemptible, in the eyes of the signora's -other servants. -</p> -<p> -Luckily honest Mandola, who was not devoid of penetration, had for me an -affection which never wavered. I should not be surprised, although he -never gave me the right to assert it, if love had sometimes made a soft -heart beat fast beneath that rough bark, when he carried the signora in -his arms. It was extremely imprudent for a young woman to betray the -secret of her love-affairs to two young men of our age, and almost -flaunt them in our faces; and it was impossible for us to be witnesses -of the good fortune of other men, for two years, without being unduly -tempted. However that may be, I find it difficult to believe that -Mandola would have detected so readily what was taking place in my -heart, if something of the same sort had not taken place in his. One -evening, as I sat at the bow of the gondola, lost in thought, my face -hidden in my hands, waiting for the signora to send for us, he said to -me: "<i>Nello! Nello</i>!!!"—nothing more, but in a tone which seemed -to me to mean so much that I raised my head and looked at him with a sort -of terror, as if my fate were in his hands.—He stifled something like -a sigh, as he added the popular saying: "<i>Sara quel che sara</i>!" -</p> -<p> -"What do you mean?" I cried, rising and grasping his arm. -</p> -<p> -"Nello! Nello!" he repeated, shaking his head. At that moment they came -to tell me to go up and bring the signora to the gondola; but Mandola's -meaning glance followed me up the steps and moved me strangely. -</p> -<p> -That same day Mandola applied to Signora Aldini for a week's leave of -absence, to go and see his sick father. Bianca seemed surprised and -dismayed by the request; but she granted it at once, adding: "But who -will row my gondola?"—"Nello," Mandola replied, watching me closely. -"But he cannot row alone," rejoined the signora. "No matter, take me -home, to-morrow we will look for a temporary substitute. Go to see your -father, and take good care of him; I will pray for him." -</p> -<p> -The next day the signora sent for me, and asked me if I had made -inquiries for a gondolier. I replied only by an audacious smile. The -signora turned pale and said to me in a trembling voice: "You will -attend to it to-morrow; I shall not go out to-day." -</p> -<p> -I realized my mistake; but the signora had shown more fear than anger, -and my hope augmented my insolence. Toward evening I went and asked her -if I should bring the gondola to the steps. She replied coldly: "I told -you this morning that I should not go out." I did not lose courage. "The -weather has changed, signora," I said, "the wind is as warm as the -sirocco. It is fine weather for you to-night." She bestowed a withering -glance upon me, saying: "I didn't ask you what the weather is. How long -has it been your place to advise me?" The battle was on, I did not -retreat. "Since you have seemed disposed to allow yourself to die," I -replied vehemently. She seemed to yield to some magnetic force; for she -languidly dropped her head on her hand, and in a faint voice bade me -bring the gondola. -</p> -<p> -I carried her down to it. Salomé attempted to accompany her. I took it -upon myself to say to her in an imperative tone that her mistress -ordered her to remain with Signora Alezia. I saw the blood come and go -in the signora's cheeks as I took the oar and eagerly pushed against the -marble steps which seemed to flee behind us. -</p> -<p> -When I was a few rods from the palace, it seemed to me that I had -conquered the world, and that my victory was assured, all inconvenient -witnesses being out of the way. I rowed furiously out into the middle of -the lagoons, without turning my head, without speaking a word, without -stopping for breath. I had the appearance of a lover carrying off his -mistress much more than of a gondolier rowing his employer. When we were -quite alone, I dropped my oar and let the boat drift; but at that point -all my courage abandoned me; it was impossible for me to speak to the -signora, I dared not even look at her. She gave me no encouragement, and -I rowed her back to the palace, mortified enough to have resumed the -trade of boatman without obtaining the reward I hoped for. -</p> -<p> -Salomé showed some temper with me, and humiliated me several times, -accusing me of having a surly and preoccupied air. I could never say a -word to the signora without a rebuke from the maid, who always declared -that I did not express myself respectfully. The signora, who usually -defended me, did not even seem to notice the mortifications to which I -was subjected that evening. I was incensed beyond words. For the first -time I was really ashamed of my position, and I should have thought -seriously of quitting it, if the irresistible magnet of desire had not -kept me in bondage. -</p> -<p> -For several days I suffered tortures. The signora pitilessly allowed me -to exhaust my strength rowing her about at midday, in the dry, intensely -hot, autumn weather, before the eyes of the whole city, who had seen me -for a long time previously seated in her gondola, at her feet, almost at -her side, and who saw me now, dripping with perspiration, fallen from -the sublime profession of troubadour to the laborious trade of -gondolier. My love changed to wrath. Two or three times I felt a -shameful temptation to treat her disrespectfully in public; then I was -ashamed of myself and my dejection became the more complete. -</p> -<p> -One morning, the fancy seized her to go ashore on the Lido. The shore -was deserted, the sand sparkled in the sunlight; my head was burning -hot, the perspiration was running down my breast in streams. As I -stooped to lift Signora Aldini, she passed her silk handkerchief over my -dripping forehead, and gazed at me with a sort of loving compassion. -</p> -<p> -"<i>Poveretto</i>!" she said, "you are not made for the trade to which I -condemn you!" -</p> -<p> -"I would go to the galleys for you," I replied hotly. -</p> -<p> -"And sacrifice your beautiful voice," she rejoined, "and the great -talent you may acquire, and the noble profession of musical artist to -which you may attain?" -</p> -<p> -"Everything!" I replied, dropping on my knees before her. -</p> -<p> -"You do not mean it!" she retorted, with a melancholy air. "Return to -your place," she added, pointing to the bow. "I wish to rest a while -here." -</p> -<p> -I returned to the bow, but I left the door of the <i>camerino</i> open. I -could see her lying on the black cushions, fair and pale, wrapped in her -black cape, buried and, as it were hidden in the black velvet of that -mysterious bower, which seems made for stealthy pleasures and forbidden -joys. She resembled a beautiful swan which swims into a dark grotto to -avoid the hunter. I felt that my reason was abandoning me; I crept to -her side and fell on my knees. To give her a kiss and then die in -expiation of my crime was my whole thought. Her eyes were closed, she -pretended to be asleep, but she felt the fire of my breath. Then she -called to me aloud, as if she believed me to be at a distance, and -pretended to wake gradually, to give me time to go away. She bade me go -to the <i>bottega</i> on the Lido to fetch her some lemonade, then closed -her eyes again. I put one foot on shore, and that was all. I stepped back -into the gondola and stood still, gazing at her. She opened her eyes, -and her glance seemed to draw me to her by a thousand chains of steel -and diamond. I took one step toward her, she closed her eyes again; I -took another step, and she opened them, assuming an expression of -contemptuous surprise. I went ashore again, then returned to the -gondola. This cruel game lasted several minutes. She attracted and -spurned me as the hawk plays with the mortally wounded sparrow. Anger took -possession of me; I slammed the door of the <i>camerino</i> so violently -that the glass was shivered. She uttered a cry which I did not deign to -notice, but rushed ashore, singing in a voice of thunder, which I -thought reckless and devil-may-care: -</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">"La Biondina in gondoleta</span><br> -<span class="i2">L'altra sera mi o mena;</span><br> -<span class="i2">Dal piazer la povareta</span><br> -<span class="i2">La x' a in boto adormenta.</span><br> -<span class="i2">E la dormiva su sto bracio</span><br> -<span class="i2">Me intanto la svegliava;</span><br> -<span class="i2">E la barca che ninava</span><br> -<span class="i2">La tornava a adormenzar."</span> -</div></div> - -<p> -I sat down upon one of the Jewish tombstones on the Lido, and remained -there a long while; I purposely compelled her to wait for me. Then, of a -sudden, thinking that she might be suffering with thirst, I ran, -stricken with remorse, to fetch the drink for which she had asked me, -and carried it to her with deep solicitude. And yet I hoped that she -would reprimand me; I would have liked to be dismissed from my -employment, for it had become intolerable to me. She received me with no -trace of anger; indeed she thanked me sweetly as she took the glass I -handed her. Thereupon I saw that her hand was bleeding, it had been cut -by the broken glass. I could not restrain my tears. I saw that hers were -flowing too; but she did not speak to me, and I dared not break that -silence, fraught with loving reproaches and timid passion. -</p> -<p> -I determined to stamp out my insane love and to leave Venice. I tried to -persuade myself that the signora had never returned it, and that I had -flattered myself with an impertinent hope; but every moment her glance, -her tone of voice, her gesture, even her sadness, which seemed to -increase and decrease with mine, all combined to revive my insane -confidence and to lead me to dangerous dreams. -</p> -<p> -Fate seemed determined to deprive us of what little strength we still -retained. Mandola did not return. I was a very indifferent oarsman, -despite my zeal and strength; I was not familiar with the lagoons, I had -always been so absorbed by my own thoughts as I went in and out among -them! One evening I went astray in the salt marshes that stretch from -the St. George canal to the Marana canal. The rising tide covered those -vast plains of sand and seaweed; but it began to fall again before I -succeeded in rowing back into clear water; I could see the tops of the -aquatic plants moving in the breeze amid the foam. I pulled hard, but in -vain. The ebb tide laid bare a vast expanse of marsh, and the gondola -stranded gently on a bed of seaweed and shells. Night had spread its -veil over the sky and the waters, the sea-birds lighted all around us, -by thousands, filling the air with their plaintive cries. I called for a -long time, but my voice was lost in space; no fishing vessel chanced to -be at anchor near the marsh, no craft of any sort approached us. We must -needs resign ourselves to the necessity of awaiting some chance succor -or the next morning's tide. This last alternative was exceedingly -disquieting; I dreaded the cold night air for my mistress's sake, and -above all, the unhealthy vapors that rise from the marshes at daybreak; -I tried in vain to pull the gondola to a pool of water. Aside from the -fact that we should simply have gained a very few feet, it would have -taken more than six men to raise the boat from the bed she had made for -herself. Thereupon I determined to wade through the swamp, up to my -waist in mud, until I reached the channel, and to swim across in quest -of help. It was an insane undertaking; for I did not know the lay of the -land, and where the fishermen adroitly walk about to gather -<i>sea-fruit</i>, I should have been lost in bogs and quick-sands after -a very few steps. When the signora saw that I was inclined to resist her -prohibition, and was about to take the risk, she sprang to her feet, -and, mustering strength to remain in that position for an instant, she -threw her arms about me and fell back, almost pressing me to her heart. -Thereupon I forgot all my anxiety, and cried frantically: "Yes! yes! let -us stay here; let us never leave this spot; let us die here of joy and -love, and may the Adriatic not wake to-morrow to rescue us!" -</p> -<p> -In the first moment of emotion she was very near abandoning herself to -my transports; but she soon recovered the strength with which she had -armed herself. -</p> -<p> -"Well, yes," she said, kissing me on the forehead; "yes, I love you, and -I have loved you for a long while. It was because I loved you that I -refused to marry Lanfranchi, for I could not make up my mind to place an -everlasting obstacle between you and me. It was because I loved you that -I endured Montalegri's love, fearing that I might succumb to my passion -for you, and being determined to combat it; it was because I loved you -that I sent him away, being unable to endure longer that love which I -did not share; it is because I love you that I am still determined not -to give way to what I feel to-day; for I propose to give you proofs of a -veritable love, and I owe to your pride, so long humbled, some other -recompense than vain caresses, another title than that of lover." -</p> -<p> -I did not understand that language. What other title than that of lover -could I desire, what greater happiness than that of possessing such a -mistress? I had had some absurd moments of pride and frenzy, but at that -time I was unhappy, I did not think that she loved me. -</p> -<p> -"So long as you do love me," I cried; "so long as you tell me so as you -do now, in the mystery of darkness, and every evening, out of sight of -the curious and envious, give me a kiss as you did just now; so long as -you are mine in secret, in God's bosom, shall I not be prouder and -happier than the Doge of Venice? What more do I need than to live beside -you and to know that you belong to me? Ah! let all the world remain in -ignorance of it; I do not need to make others jealous in order to be -happy beyond words, and the opinion of other people is not necessary to -the pride and joy of my heart." -</p> -<p> -"And yet," replied Bianca, "it will humiliate you to be my servant after -this, will it not?" -</p> -<p> -"I was humiliated this morning," I cried; "to-morrow I shall be proud of -it." -</p> -<p> -"What!" she said, "would you not despise me if, after abandoning myself -to your love, I should leave you in a state of degradation?" -</p> -<p> -"There can be no degradation in serving one who loves me," I replied. -"If you were my wife, do you think that I would allow anybody but myself -to carry you? Could I think of anything except taking care of you and -amusing you? Salomé is not humiliated to be in your service, and yet -you do not love her as much as you love me, <i>signora mia</i>?" -</p> -<p> -"O my noble-hearted boy!" cried Bianca, pressing my head against her -breast with deep emotion; "O pure and unselfish soul! Who will dare now -to say that there are no great hearts save those that are born in -palaces! Who will dare deny the honor and saintliness of these plebeian -natures, ranked so low by our hateful prejudices and our absurd disdain! -You are the only man who ever loved me for myself alone, the only man -whose aim was not my rank or my fortune!—Very well! you shall share -them both, you shall make me forget the miseries of my first marriage, -and replace with your rustic name the hateful name of Aldini, which I -bear with regret! You shall command my vassals and be at once the lord -of my estates and the master of my life. Nello, will you marry me?" -</p> -<p> -If the earth had opened under my feet, or if the skies had fallen on my -head, I could not have experienced a more violent shock of amazement -than that which struck me dumb in the face of such a question. When I -had recovered somewhat from my stupefaction, I do not know what reply I -made, for my head was going round, and it was impossible for me to think -coherently. All that my natural good sense could do was to put aside -honors too heavy for my age and my inexperience. Bianca insisted. -</p> -<p> -"Listen," she said; "I am not happy. My cheerfulness has long been a -cloak for intense suffering, until now, as you see, I am ill and can no -longer conceal my ennui. My position in society is false and very -distasteful to me; my position in my own esteem is worse still, and God -is dissatisfied with me. You know that I am not of patrician descent. -Torquato Aldini married me on account of the great fortune my father had -amassed in business. That haughty nobleman never saw in me anything more -than the instrument of his fortune, he never deigned to treat me as his -equal; some of his relatives encouraged him in maintaining the absurd -and cruel attitude of lord and master which he assumed toward me at the -outset; others blamed him severely for having contracted a misalliance -in order to pay his debts, and treated him coldly after his marriage. -After his death they all refused to see me, and I found myself without -any family; for by entering the family of a noble I had forfeited the -esteem and affection of my own people. I had married Torquato for love, -and those of my relatives who did not consider me insane believed me to -be guided by foolish vanity and vile ambition. That is why, despite my -wealth and my youth and an obliging and inoffensive disposition, you see -my salons almost empty and my social circle so restricted. I have some -warm friends, and their company satisfies my heart. But I am entirely -unfamiliar with the intoxication of society at large, and it has not -treated me so well that I am called upon to sacrifice my happiness to -it. I know that by marrying you I shall draw down upon myself not its -indifference simply but its irrevocable malediction. Do not be alarmed; -you see that it is a very trifling sacrifice on my part." -</p> -<p> -"But why marry me?" said I. "Why invite that malediction to no purpose? -for I do not need your fortune to be happy, nor do you need a solemn -contract on my part to be sure that I shall love you forever." -</p> -<p> -"Whether you are my husband or my lover," Bianca replied, "the world -will find it out all the same, and I shall be cursed and despised none -the less. Since your love must necessarily, in one way or the other, -separate me altogether from society, I desire at least to be reconciled -to God, and to find in this love of mine, sanctified by the Church, the -strength to despise society as it despises me. I have lived in sin for a -long while, I have sinned without adding to my happiness, I have risked -my salvation and have not found gladness of heart. Now I have found it -and I wish to enjoy it, stainless and cloudless; I wish to sleep, free -from remorse, on the bosom of the man I love; I wish to be able to say -to the world: 'It is you who destroy and corrupt hearts. Nello's love -has saved and purified me, and I have a refuge against you; God -permitted me to love Nello, and bids me love him until death.'" -</p> -<p> -Bianca talked to me a long while in this strain. There was weakness, -childishness and pure goodness in these ingenuous plottings of her -pride, her love and her piety. I was not very strong myself. It was not -long since I had been accustomed to kneel, night and morning, on my -father's boat, before the image of St. Anthony painted on the sail; and -although the beautiful women of Venice diverted my thoughts sadly in the -basilica, I never missed attending mass, and I still had on my neck the -scapulary my mother hung there as she gave me her blessing on the day I -left Chioggia. So I allowed Signora Aldini to triumph over my scruples -and persuade me; and without further resistance or promises, I passed -the night at her feet, as submissive as a child to her religious -scruples, intoxicated with the pleasure of simply kissing her hand and -inhaling the perfume of her fan. It was a lovely night. The twinkling -stars trembled in the little pools which the tide had left on the marsh; -the breeze murmured in the green grasses. From time to time we saw in -the distance the light of a gondola gliding over the waves, but it did -not occur to us to call for help. The voice of the Adriatic breaking on -the farther shore of the Lido reached our ears, monotonous and majestic. -We indulged in countless enchanting dreams; we formed countless -deliciously trivial plans. The moon sank slowly and was shrouded in the -dark waves on the horizon, like a chaste virgin in her winding-sheet. We -were as chaste as she, and she seemed to glance at us with a friendly -expression before plunging into the sea. -</p> -<p> -But soon the cold made itself felt, and a sheet of white mist spread -over the marsh. I closed the <i>camerino</i> and wrapped Bianca in my red -cape. I sat down beside her, put my arms about her to shelter her, and -warmed her arms and hands with my breath. A delicious calm seemed to -have descended upon her heart since she had almost extorted from me a -promise to marry her. She rested her head lightly on my shoulder. The -night was far advanced; for more than six hours we had poured forth the -ardent love of our hearts in tender and impassioned words. A pleasant -sensation of weariness stole over me as well, and we fell asleep in each -other's arms, as pure as the dawn that was beginning to appear on the -horizon. It was our wedding-night—our only night of love; a spotless -night, which was never repeated, and its memory never marred. -</p> -<p> -Loud voices woke me. I ran to the bow of the gondola and saw several men -approaching us. At the usual time of starting out to fish, a family of -fishermen had discovered the stranded craft, and they assisted me to -drag her to the Marana Canal, whence I rowed rapidly to the palace. -</p> -<p> -How happy I was as I placed my foot on the first step! I thought no more -of the palace than of Bianca's fortune; but I had her in my arms who -thenceforth was my property, my life, my mistress in the noble and -blessed sense of the word! But my joy ended there. Salomé appeared in -the doorway of that terror-stricken house, where no one had closed an -eye during the night. Salomé was pale, and it was evident that she had -been weeping; it was probably the only time in her life. She did not -venture to question her mistress: perhaps she had already read upon my -brow the reason why the night had seemed so short to me. It had been -long enough to all the occupants of the palace. They all believed that -some horrible accident had befallen their dear mistress. A number of -them had wandered about all night, looking for us; others had passed the -time in prayer, burning little tapers before the image of the Virgin. -When their anxiety was allayed and their curiosity gratified, I noticed -that their thoughts took another direction and their faces a different -expression. They scrutinized my face—the women especially—with -insulting eagerness. As for Salomé's expression, it was so withering -that I could not endure it. Mandola arrived from the country in the -midst of the commotion. He understood in an instant what was going on, -and, putting his mouth to my ear, begged me to be prudent. I pretended -not to know what he meant; I did my best to submit with an air of -innocence to the investigations of the others. But in a few moments I -was unable to endure my anxiety, and I went into Bianca's room. -</p> -<p> -I found her weeping bitterly beside her daughter's bed. The child had -been awakened in the middle of the night by the noise of the constant -going and coming of the frightened servants. She had listened to their -comments on the signora's prolonged absence, and, believing that her -mother was drowned, she had gone into convulsions. She had barely become -calm when I entered, and Bianca was blaming herself for the child's -suffering, as if she had wilfully caused it. -</p> -<p> -"O my Bianca," I said to her, "be comforted and rejoice because your -child and all those about you love you so passionately. I will love you -even more than they do, so that you may be the happiest of women." -</p> -<p> -"Do not say that the others love me," she replied with some bitterness. -"It seems to me that under their breaths they are calling this love of -mine, which they have already divined, a crime. Their glances are -insulting to me, their words wound me, and I greatly fear that they have -let slip some imprudent remark in my daughter's hearing. Salomé is -openly impertinent to me this morning. It is high time for me to put an -end to these insolent comments on my conduct. You see, Nello, they look -upon my loving you as a crime, and they approved of my supposed love for -the avaricious Lanfranchi. They are all low-minded or foolish creatures. -I must inform them this very day that I passed the night, not with my -lover, but with my husband. It is the only way to make them respect you -and refrain from betraying me." -</p> -<p> -I dissuaded her from acting so hastily. I reminded her that she might -perhaps repent; that she had not reflected sufficiently; that I myself -needed time to consider her offer seriously; and that she had not -sufficiently weighed the consequences of her decision, with respect to -its possible future effect upon her daughter. I obtained her promise to -be patient and to act prudently. -</p> -<p> -It was impossible for me to form an enlightened judgment regarding my -situation. It was intoxicating, and I was a mere boy. Nevertheless, a -sort of instinctive repugnance warned me to distrust the fascinations of -love and fortune. I was excited, anxious, torn between desire and fear. -In the brilliant destiny that was offered me, I saw but one -thing—possession of the woman I loved. All the wealth by which she -was surrounded was not even an accessory to my happiness, it was a -disagreeable condition for me in my heedlessness to accept. I was like -one who has never suffered and can conceive of no better or worse state -than that in which he has always lived. In the Aldini Palace I was free -and happy. Petted by all alike, permitted to gratify all my whims, I had -no responsibility, nothing to fatigue my body or my mind. Singing, -sleeping, and boating, that was substantially the whole of my life, and -you Venetians who are listening to me know whether any life is sweeter -or better adapted to our indolent and careless natures. I imagined the -rôle of husband and master as something analogous to the -superintendence exercised by Salomé over household affairs, and such a -rôle was very far from flattering my ambition. That palace, of which I -had the freedom, was my property in the pleasantest sense of the word: I -enjoyed all its pleasures without any of its cares. Let my mistress add -the joys of love, and I should be the King of Italy. -</p> -<p> -Another thing that disheartened me was Salomé's gloomy air and the -embarrassed, mysterious and suspicious demeanor of the other servants. -There were many of them, and they were all excellent people, who had -treated me hitherto as a child of the family. In that silent reprobation -which I felt hovering over me, there was a warning which I could not, -which I did not wish to disdain; for, while it was due in some measure -to a natural feeling of jealousy, it was dictated even more by the -affectionate interest which the signora inspired. -</p> -<p> -What would I not have given in those moments of dire perplexity to have -a judicious adviser? But I did not know whom to apply to, and I was the -sole confidant of my mistress's secrets. She passed the day in bed with -her daughter, and sent for me the next day, to repeat to me all that she -had said on the marsh. All the time that she was speaking to me, it -seemed to me that she was right, and that she had a triumphant answer to -all my scruples; but when I was alone again, my distress and -irresolution returned. -</p> -<p> -I went up into the gallery and threw myself upon a chair. My eyes -wandered absent-mindedly from one to another of that long line of -ancestors whose portraits formed the only heritage that Torquato Aldini -had been able to bequeath to his daughter. Their smoke-begrimed faces, -their beards, cut square, and pointed, and diamond-shaped, their black -velvet robes and ermine-lined cloaks, gave them an imposing and -depressing aspect. Almost all had been senators, procurators, or -councillors; there was a multitude of uncles who had been inquisitors; -those of least consequence were minor canons or <i>capitani grandi</i>. At -the end of the gallery was the figure-head of the last galley fitted out -against the Turks by Tiberio Aldini, Torquato's grandfather, in the days -when the powerful nobles of the republic went to war at their own -expense, and esteemed it glorious to place their property and persons -voluntarily at the service of their country. It was a tall glass -lantern, set in gilded copper, surmounted and supported by metal -scroll-work of curious design, and with ornaments so placed that the bow -of the vessel ended in a point. Above each portrait was a long oak -bas-relief, reciting the glorious deeds of the illustrious personage -beneath. It occurred to me that, if we should have war, and the -opportunity should be offered me to fight for my country, I should be as -patriotic and as brave as all those noble aristocrats. It seemed to me -to be neither very extraordinary nor very meritorious to do great things -when one was rich and powerful, and I said to myself that the trade of -great nobleman could not be very difficult. But in those days, we were -not at war, nor were we likely to be. The republic was merely a -meaningless word, its might a mere shadow, and its enervated patricians -had no elements of grandeur except their names. It was the more -difficult to rise to their level in their opinion, because it was so -easy to surpass them in reality. Therefore to enter into a contest with -their prejudices and their contempt was unworthy of a true man, and the -plebeians were fully justified in despising those among themselves who -thought that they exalted themselves by seeking admission to fashionable -society and aping the absurdities of the nobles. -</p> -<p> -These reflections passed through my mind confusedly at first; then they -became more distinct, and I found that I could think, as I had found one -fine morning that I could sing. I began to understand the repugnance I -felt at the thought of leaving my proper station in life to make a -spectacle of myself in society as a vain and ambitious fellow; and I -determined to bury my love-affair with Bianca in the most profound -mystery. -</p> -<p> -Absorbed by these reflections, I walked along the gallery, glancing -proudly at that haughty race whose succession was disdained by a child -of the people, a boatman from Chioggia. I felt very happy; I thought of -my old father, and as I remembered the old house, long forgotten and -neglected, my eyes filled with tears. I found myself at the end of the -gallery, face to face with Messer Torquato, and for the first time I -scrutinized him boldly from head to foot. He was the very incarnation of -hereditary nobility. His glance seemed to drive one back like the point -of a sword, and his hand looked as if it had never opened except to -impose a command on his inferiors. I took pleasure in flouting him. -"Well!" I said to him mentally, "whatever you might have done, I would -never have been your servant. Your domineering air would not have -frightened me, and I would have looked you in the face as I look at this -canvas. You would never have obtained any hold on me, because my heart -is prouder than yours ever was, because I despise this gold before which -you bowed, because I am a greater man than you in the eyes of the woman -you possessed. In spite of all your pride of birth, you bent the knee to -her to obtain her wealth; and when you were rich through her, you -crushed and humbled her. That is the conduct of a dastard, and mine is -worthy of a genuine noble, for I want none of Bianca's wealth except her -heart, of which you were not worthy. And I refuse what you implored, so -that I may possess that which is precious above all things in my eyes, -Bianca's esteem. And I shall obtain it, for she will understand the vast -superiority of my heart to a debt-ridden patrician's. I have no -patrimony to redeem, you see! There is no mortgage on my father's -fishing-boat; and the clothes I wear are my own, because I earned them -by my toil. Very good! I shall be the benefactor, not the debtor, -because I shall restore happiness and life to that heart which you -broke, because I, servant and lover, shall succeed in winning blessings -and honor, while you, nobleman and husband, were cursed and despised." -</p> -<p> -A slight sound caused me to turn my head. I saw little Alezia behind me; -she was crossing the gallery, dragging a doll larger than herself. I -loved the child, despite her haughty nature, because of her love for her -mother. I tried to kiss her; but, as if she felt in the atmosphere the -disgrace which had been weighing upon me in that house for two days -past, she drew back with an offended air, and crouched against her -father's portrait, as if she had some reason to fear me. I was instantly -struck by the resemblance which her pretty little dark face bore to -Torquato's haughty features, and I stopped to examine her more closely, -with a feeling of profound sadness. She seemed to me to be scrutinizing -me attentively at the same time. Suddenly she broke the silence to say -to me in a tone of great bitterness, and with an indignant expression -beyond her years: -</p> -<p> -"Why have you stolen my papa's ring?" -</p> -<p> -As she spoke, she pointed with her tiny finger at a beautiful diamond -ring, mounted in the old style, which her mother had given me several -days before, and which I had been childish enough to accept; then she -turned and, standing on tiptoe, placed her finger on one of the fingers -in the portrait which was adorned with the same ring accurately copied; -and I discovered that the imprudent Bianca had presented her gondolier -with one of her husband's most valuable family jewels. -</p> -<p> -The blood rose in my cheeks, as I received from that child a lesson -which disgusted me more than ever with ill-gotten wealth. I smiled and -handed her the ring: -</p> -<p> -"Your mamma dropped it off her finger," I said, "and I found it just now -in the gondola." -</p> -<p> -"I will take it to her," said the child, snatching rather than taking it -from my hand. She ran away, leaving her doll on the floor. I picked up -the plaything to make sure of a little circumstance which I had often -noticed before. Alezia was in the habit of running a long pin through -the heart of every doll she owned, and sometimes she would sit for hours -at a time, absorbed in the profound and silent pleasure of that strange -amusement. -</p> -<p> -In the evening Mandola came to my room. He seemed awkward and -embarrassed. He had much to say to me, but he could not find a word. His -expression was so curious that I roared with laughter. -</p> -<p> -"You are doing wrong, Nello," he said with a pained look on his face; "I -am your friend; you are doing wrong!" -</p> -<p> -He turned to go, but I ran after him and tried to make him explain -himself; it was impossible. I saw that his heart was full of sage -reflections and good advice; but he lacked words in which to express -himself, and all his abortive sentences, in his patois in which all -languages were mingled, ended with these words: -</p> -<p> -"<i>E molto delica, delicatissimo.</i>" -</p> -<p> -At last I succeeded in making out that the rumor of my approaching -marriage to the signora was current in the house. A few impatient words -which some one had heard her say to Salomé were sufficient to put that -rumor in circulation. The signora had said just this, speaking of me: -"The time is not far away when you will take orders from him instead of -giving him orders."—I obstinately denied that these words had any -such meaning, and pretended that I did not understand them at all. -</p> -<p> -"Very good," said Mandola; "that's the answer you ought to make, even to -me, although I am your friend. But I have eyes of my own; I don't ask -you any questions, I never have done it, Nello! but I came to warn you -that you must be prudent. The Aldinis are just looking for an excuse for -taking the guardianship of Signora Alezia away from the signora, and she -will die of grief if they take her child away from her." -</p> -<p> -"What do you say?" I cried; "what? they will take her daughter away -because of me?" -</p> -<p> -"If you were to marry her, certainly," replied the worthy gondolier; -"<i>otherwise</i>—as there are some things that can't be -proved,—" -</p> -<p> -"Especially when they don't exist," I rejoined warmly. -</p> -<p> -"You speak as you should speak," replied Mandola; "continue to be on -your guard; trust nobody, not even me, and if you have any influence -over the signora, urge her to hide her feelings, especially from -Salomé. Salomé will never betray her; but her voice is too loud, and -when she quarrels with the signora, everybody in the house hears what -they say. If any of the signora's friends should suspect what is -happening, everything would go wrong; for friends aren't like servants; -they don't know how to keep a secret, and yet people trust their friends -more than they do us!" -</p> -<p> -Honest Mandola's advice was not to be despised, especially as it was in -perfect accord with my instinct. The next evening we took the signora to -the Zueca Canal, and Mandola, understanding that I had something to say -to her, obligingly fell asleep at his post. I put out the light, stole -into the cabin, and talked a long while with Bianca. She was surprised -by my objections and said everything that she considered likely to -overcome them. I spoke firmly, I told her that I would never allow it to -be said of me that I had married a woman for her wealth; that I cared as -much for the good name of my family as any patrician in Venice; that my -kinsmen would never forgive me if I afforded any such cause for scandal, -and that I did not propose either to fall out with my dear old father or -to make trouble between the signora and her daughter; for she ought to -and doubtless did care more for Alezia than for all the world beside. -This last argument was more powerful than any other. She burst into -tears and poured forth her admiration for me and gratitude to me with -the enthusiasm of passion. -</p> -<p> -From that day peace reigned once more in the Aldini Palace. That little -secondary society had passed through its revolutionary crisis. It had -its own peacemaker, and I laughed to myself at my rôle of great -citizen, with childlike heroism. Mandola, who was beginning to acquire -some education, was amazed to see me engage in the hardest sort of work, -and would call me under his breath, with a paternal air, his Cincinnatus -or his Pompilius. -</p> -<p> -I had in fact resolved—and I kept steadfastly to my -resolution—not to accept the slightest favor from a woman whose -lover I wished to be. Inasmuch as the only means of possessing her in -secret was to remain in her house on the footing of a servant, it seemed -to me that I could re-establish equality between her and myself by -making my services correspond to my wages. Hitherto my wages had been -large and entirely out of proportion to my work, which, for some time -past, had been absolutely nothing. I determined to make up for lost -time. I set about keeping things in order, cleaning, doing errands, -bringing wood and water, polishing and brushing the gondola—in a -word, doing the work of ten men; and I did it cheerfully, humming my -most beautiful operatic airs and my noblest epic strophes. The task that -afforded me the most amusement was the taking care of the family -pictures and brushing off the dust which obscured Torquato's majestic -glance every morning. When I had completed his toilet, I would remove my -cap with profound respect and ironically repeat to him some parody of my -heroic verses. -</p> -<p> -The Venetian lower classes, especially the gondoliers, have, as you -know, a liking for jewels. They spend a good part of what they earn in -antique rings, shirt studs, scarf pins, chains and the like. I had -previously accepted many trinkets of the sort. I carried them all back -to Signora Aldini, and would not even wear silver buckles on my shoes. -But my most meritorious sacrifice was my abandonment of music. I -considered that my work, laborious as it was, was no compensation for -the expense which my constant theatre-going and my singing lessons -imposed on the signora. I persistently declared that I had a cold in my -head, and instead of going to the performance at La Fenice with her, I -adopted the practice of reading in the lobby of the theatre. I realized -that I was ignorant; and, although my mistress was scarcely less so, I -determined to extend my ideas a little, and not to make her blush for my -blunders. I studied my mother tongue earnestly, and strove to break -myself of the habit of murdering verses, as all gondoliers do. Moreover, -something told me that that study would be useful to me later, and that -what I lost in the way of progress in singing I should gain in the -perfecting of my pronunciation and accent. -</p> -<p> -A few days of this judicious conduct served to restore my tranquillity. -I had never been more manly, more cheerful, and, as Salomé said, more -comely than in my neat and modest clothes, with my amiable expression -and my sun-burned hands. Everybody had accorded me confidence and esteem -once more, and I was again the recipient of the innumerable little -attentions which I formerly enjoyed. Pretty Alezia, who had the greatest -respect for the judgment of her Jewish governess, allowed me to kiss the -ends of her black braids, embellished with scarlet ribbons and fine -pearls. -</p> -<p> -A single person remained depressed and unhappy—the signora herself. I -constantly surprised her lovely blue eyes, filled with tears, fastened -upon me with an indescribable expression of affection and grief. She -could not accustom herself to see me working so. If I had been her own -son she could not have been more grieved to see me carrying burdens and -standing in the rain. Indeed, her solicitude vexed me a little, and the -efforts she made to conceal it made it even more painful to her. An -entirely unforeseen revolution of sentiment had taken place in her. That -love which had hitherto been, as she herself told me, her torment and -her joy, seemed now to cause her naught but shame and consternation. She -no longer avoided opportunities to be alone with me, as she used to do; -on the contrary, she sought them; but, as soon as I knelt at her feet, -she would burst into sobs and change the hours promised to the joys of -love into hours of painful emotion. I strove in vain to understand what -was taking place in her heart. I could obtain nothing but vague replies, -always kind and affectionate, but incoherent, which caused me the utmost -perplexity. I had no idea what to do to comfort her and strengthen that -discouraged heart. I was consumed by desire, and it seemed to me that an -hour of mutual effusion and passion would have been more eloquent than -all that talk and all those tears; but I felt too much respect and -devotion for her not to sacrifice my transports of passion to her. I -felt that it would be very easy to take her by surprise, weak as she was -in body and mind; but I dreaded the tears of the next day too much, and -I wished to owe my happiness to her confidence and love alone. That day -did not come, and I must say, to the discredit of feminine weakness, -that, if I had shown less delicacy and unselfishness, my desires would -have been fully gratified. I had hoped that Bianca would encourage me; -I soon discovered that, on the contrary, she was afraid of me, and that -she shuddered at my approach, as if crime and remorse approached with -me. I succeeded in reassuring her only to see her plunge into still -deeper dejection, and upbraid fate, as if it had not been in her power -to put a better face upon her destiny. Then, too, a secret sense of -shame helped to crush that shrinking heart. Religion took possession of -her more and more completely; her confessor controlled her and terrified -her. He forbade her to have lovers, and, although she resisted him when -it was a question of Signor Lanfranchi and Signor Montalegri, she had -not the same courage with respect to me. I succeeded little by little in -extorting from her a confession of all her sufferings and internal -struggles. She had confessed to the confessor all the details of our -love, and he had declared that that low, criminal affection was a -heinous crime. He had forbidden her to think of marriage with me, even -more peremptorily than to give way to her passion; and he had frightened -her so by threatening to cast her out from the bosom of the Church, that -her gentle, timid mind, torn between the desire to make me happy and the -fear of destroying her own soul, was suffering veritable agony. -</p> -<p> -Hitherto Signora Aldini's piety had been so pliant, so tolerant, so -truly Italian, that I was not a little surprised to see it become -serious just at the height of one of those paroxysms of passion which -seem most inconsistent with such changes. I worked hard with my poor -inexperienced brain to understand this phenomenon, and I succeeded. -Bianca probably loved me more than she had loved the count and the -prince; but she had not sufficient courage nor a sufficiently -enlightened mind to rise above public opinion. She complained of the -arrogance of other people; but she gave real value to that arrogance by -her fear of it. In a word, she was more submissive than anybody else to -the prejudice which she had attempted for an instant to defy. She had -hoped to find in the church, through the sacrament, and by redoubling -her pious fervor, the strength which she failed to find in herself, and -which she had not needed with her former lovers, because they were -patricians and society was on their side. But now the church threatened -her, society would heap maledictions upon her; to fight against the -church and society at the same time was a task beyond her strength. -</p> -<p> -Then too, it may be that her love subsided as soon as I became worthy of -it; perhaps, instead of appreciating the grandeur of soul which had led -me to descend of my own motion from the salon to the servant's quarters, -she had fancied that she could detect in that courageous behavior a lack -of dignity and an inborn liking for servitude. She believed too that the -threats and sarcasms of her other servants had frightened me. She was -astonished to find that I was not ambitious, and that very absence of -ambition seemed to her an indication of an inert or timid spirit. She -did not admit all this to me; but as soon as I was once on the track I -divined it all. I was not angry. How could she understand my noble pride -and my sensitive honor, she who had accepted and returned the love of an -Aldini and a Lanfranchi? -</p> -<p> -Doubtless she ceased to consider me handsome when I refused to wear lace -and ribbons. My hands, calloused in her service, no longer seemed to her -worthy to press hers. She had loved me as a gondolier, in the thought -and hope of transforming me into an attractive cicisbeo; but the instant -that I insisted upon reverting to the system of a fair exchange of -services between her and myself, all her illusions vanished, and she saw -in me only the vulgar fisherman's son of Chioggia, a species of stupid -and hard-working beast of burden. -</p> -<p> -As these discoveries cleared the mists away from my mind, the violence -of my passions diminished. If I had had to deal with a great soul, or -even with a forceful nature, it would have been in my eyes a glorious -task to efface the distressing memories left behind in that heart by my -predecessors. But to succeed such men simply to be misunderstood, and in -all probability to be some day cast aside and forgotten like them, was a -happiness which I no longer cared to purchase at the cost of an enormous -expenditure of passion and will-power. Signora Aldini was a sweet and -lovely woman; but could I not find in a cottage at Chioggia beauty and -sweetness united, without causing tears to flow, without causing -remorse, and above all without leaving shame behind me? -</p> -<p> -My mind was soon made up. I resolved not only to leave the signora, but -to cease to be a servant. So long as I had been in love with her harp -and her person, I had had no time to reflect seriously on my condition. -But, as soon as I abandoned my foolish aspirations, I realized how -difficult it is to retain one's dignity unimpaired under the protection -of the great, and I recalled the salutary arguments which my father had -urged upon me, and to which I had paid little heed. -</p> -<p> -When I gave her an inkling of my purpose, I saw, although she opposed -it, that she was greatly relieved; happiness might return and dwell once -more in that affectionate and beneficent heart. The charming frivolity -which was the basis of her character would reappear on the surface with -the first lover who should be able to push aside her confessor, her -servants, and society. A great passion would have shattered her system; -a succession of mild passions and a multitude of lukewarm attachments -would keep her alive in her natural element. -</p> -<p> -I forced her to admit all that I had divined. She had never studied -herself very much, and she was always most sincere. If there was no -heroism in her character, neither was there any pretension to heroism, -nor the overbearing despotism which is its consequence. She approved my -determination, but she wept and was dismayed at the thought of the blank -my departure would leave in her life; for she loved me still, I am sure, -with all the strength of her nature. -</p> -<p> -She attempted to worry and fret about what was to become of me. I would -not allow it. The abrupt and haughty tone in which I interrupted her -when she spoke of offering her services closed her mouth once for all in -that respect. I would not even take the clothes she had had made for me. -On the day before I was to take my leave, I purchased the complete -outfit of a sailor of Chioggia, new, but of the coarsest materials; and -in that guise I appeared before her for the last time. -</p> -<p> -She had requested me to come to her at midnight, so that we could part -without witnesses. I was grateful to her for the affectionate -familiarity with which she embraced me. I do not believe there was -another society woman in all Venice sufficiently sincere and sympathetic -to be willing to repeat the assurance of her love to a man dressed as I -was. Tears poured from her eyes when she passed her little white hands -over the rough material of my scarlet-lined cape; then she smiled, and, -pulling the hood over my head, gazed at me lovingly, and exclaimed that -she had never seen me look so handsome, and that she had done very wrong -ever to make me dress in any other way. The warmth and sincerity of my -thanks, the oaths I took to be faithful to her until death, and never to -think of her except to bless her and commend her to God's keeping, -touched her deeply. She was not accustomed to being left in that way. -</p> -<p> -"You have a more chivalrous heart," she said to me, "than any of those -who bear the title of chevalier." -</p> -<p> -Then she gave way to an outburst of enthusiasm: the independence of my -nature, the indifference with which I laid aside luxury and indolence -for the hardest of lives, the respect with which I had never failed to -treat her when it would have been so easy for me to abuse her weakness -for me; all this, she said, raised me far above other men. She threw -herself into my arms, almost at my feet, and again begged me not to go -away, but to marry her. -</p> -<p> -This outburst was sincere, and, although it did not change my -resolution, it made the signora so lovely and so fascinating that I was -very near casting my heroism to the winds and taking my reward in that -last night for all the sacrifices I had made to my peace of mind. But I -had the strength to resist, and to go forth chaste from a love affair -which nevertheless had its origin in sensual desire. I took my leave, -bathed in her tears, and carrying away, as my sole treasure and trophy, -a lock of her lovely fair hair. As I withdrew I went to little Alezia's -bed, and softly put aside the curtains to take a last look at her. She -at once woke, and did not recognize me at first, for she was frightened; -she did not cry out, but simply called her mother in a voice which she -tried to keep from trembling. -</p> -<p> -"Signorina," I said, "I am the <i>Orco</i>,<a id="FNanchor_3_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_1" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> and I have come to ask you why -you pierce the hearts of your dolls with pins." -</p> -<p> -She sat up in bed, and replied, glancing at me with a mischievous -expression: -</p> -<p> -"I do it to see if their blood is blue." -</p> -<p> -<i>Blue blood</i>, you know, is synonymous with noble in the popular -language of Venice. -</p> -<p> -"But they have no blood," I said; "they are not noble!" -</p> -<p> -"They are nobler than you," was her retort, "for their blood isn't -black." -</p> -<p> -Black, you know, is the color of the <i>nicoloti</i>, the association of -boatmen. -</p> -<p> -"<i>Signora mia</i>," I said in an undertone to her mother, as I drew the -child's curtains, "you have done well not to splash ink on your azure -crest. Here is a little patrician who would never have forgiven you." -</p> -<p> -"And my heart," she replied sadly, "is pierced, not with a pin, but with -a thousand swords." -</p> -<p> -When I was in the street, I stopped to look at the corner of the palace -which stood out in the moonlight from the eaves to the depths of the -Grand Canal. A boat passed, and, causing a ripple in the water, cut and -scattered the reflection of that pure line. It seemed to me that I had -just had a beautiful dream and had awakened in darkness. I began to run -at full speed, never looking behind, and did not stop until I reached -the Paglia bridge, where the boats for Chioggia await passengers, while -the boatmen, wrapped in their capes in winter and summer alike, lie -sound asleep on the parapet, and even across the steps, under the feet -of passers-by. I asked if anyone of my fellow-townsmen would take me to -my father's house. -</p> -<p> -"Is it you, <i>kinsman</i>?" they cried in surprise. -</p> -<p> -That word <i>kinsman</i>, which the Venetians ironically bestow on the -Chioggians, and which the latter have had the good-sense to accept,<a id="FNanchor_4_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_1" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> -was so sweet to my ear that I embraced the first man who called me by -it. They promised to start in an hour, and asked me several questions, -but did not listen to my answers. The Chioggian hardly knows the use of -a bed; but he sleeps while walking, talking, even rowing. They suggested -my taking a nap on the common bed, that is to say on the flagstones of -the quay. I lay on the ground, with my head on one of those worthy -fellows, while another used me as a pillow, and so on. I slept as in the -happiest days of my childhood, and I dreamed that my poor mother—who -had been dead a year—appeared in the doorway of our cottage and -congratulated me on my return. I was awakened by the repeated shouts of -<i>Chiosa</i>! <i>Chiosa</i>!<a id="FNanchor_5_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_1" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> with which our boatmen wake the echoes of the -ducal palace and the prisons, to attract passengers. It seemed to me a cry -of triumph, like the <i>Italia</i>! <i>Italia</i>! of the Trojans in the -<i>Æneid</i>. I jumped aboard a boat with a light heart, and, thinking of -the night Bianca must have passed, reproached myself a little for -sleeping soundly. But I was reconciled to myself by the thought that I -had not poisoned her future peace of mind. -</p> -<p> -It was midwinter and the nights were long; we reached Chioggia an hour -before dawn. I ran to our cabin. My father was already at sea; only my -youngest brother was left behind to look after the house. It took a long -while for him to wake up and recognize me. It was easy to see that he -was accustomed to sleep amid the roar of the waves and the storm; for I -nearly broke the door down trying to make him hear me. At last he came -out, leaped on my neck, put on his cape and rowed me half a league out -to sea, to the spot where my father's boat lay at anchor. The excellent -man, awaiting the best time to set his nets, was asleep, according to -the custom of old fishermen, stretched out on his back, his body and -face sheltered by a coarse blanket, while the stinging north wind -whistled through the rigging. The white-capped waves beat against the -vessel and covered him with spray; no human voice could be heard in the -vast solitude of the Adriatic. I softly put aside the blanket and looked -at him. He was the image of strength in repose. His gray beard, as -tangled as the seaweed when the tide is rising, his earth-colored jacket -and his dull green woollen cap made him resemble an old Triton asleep in -his shell. He displayed no more surprise when he woke than if he had -been expecting me. -</p> -<p> -"Oho!" he said, "I was dreaming of the poor woman, and she said to me: -'Get up, old man, here's our son Daniel back again.'" -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="nind"><a id="Footnote_3_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_1"><span class="label">[3]</span></a>The red devil, or will'o-the-wisp of the lagoons.</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>The peninsula of Chioggia was originally inhabited by five -or six families which never married except among themselves.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="nind"><a id="Footnote_5_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_1"><span class="label">[5]</span></a>Chioggia!</p></div> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="SECOND_PART">SECOND PART</a></h4> - -<p> -I do not propose, my friends, to describe all the vicissitudes which -marked my passage from the beach at Chioggia to the stage of the leading -theatres in Italy, and from the trade of fisherman to the rôle of -<i>primo tenore</i>; that was the work of several years, and my reputation -increased rapidly as soon as I had taken the first step in my career. If -circumstances were often unfavorable, my easy-going disposition was -always able to make the best of them, and I can fairly say that my great -successes did not cost me very dear. -</p> -<p> -Ten years after leaving Venice, I was at Naples, playing Romeo at the -San Carlo theatre. King Murat and his brilliant staff, and all the vain -and venal beauties of Italy, were there. I did not pride myself on being -a particularly ardent patriot, but I did not share the infatuation of -that period for foreign domination. I did not turn my face backward -toward a still more degrading past; I fed upon the first elements of -Carbonarism, which were then fermenting, without definite shape or name, -from Prussia to Sicily. -</p> -<p> -My heroism was simple and intense, as all religions are at their birth. -I carried into all that I did, and especially into my art, the feeling -of mocking pride and democratic independence which inspired me every day -in the clubs and in clandestine pamphlets. <i>Friends of Truth</i>, -<i>Friends of Light</i>, <i>Friends of Liberty</i>—such were the -names under which liberal sympathies gathered; and even in the ranks of -the French army, at the very side of the victorious leaders, we had -associates, children of your great revolution, who, in their secret -hearts, were determined to wash away the stain of the 18th Brumaire. -</p> -<p> -I loved the rôle of Romeo, because I could give expression in it to -warlike sentiments and feelings of chivalrous detestation. When my -audience, always half French, applauded my dramatic outbursts, I felt as -if I were revenged for our national degradation; for those conquerors -were unconsciously applauding curses aimed at them, longings for their -death and threats to attain it. -</p> -<p> -One evening, during one of my finest moments, when it seemed as if the -roof would fall under the explosions of frantic applause, my eyes fell -upon a face in a proscenium box almost on the stage, an impassive face, -the sight of which made my blood suddenly run cold. You have no idea of -the mysterious influences which govern the actor's inspiration, how the -expression of certain faces absorbs him, and stimulates or deadens his -audacity. Speaking for myself at least, I cannot avoid an instant -sympathy with my audience, whether the effect is to spur me on if I find -it inclined to resist, until I subjugate it by my passion, or to melt us -into one as by the action of an electric current, so that its quick -response imparts new vigor to my sensitive talent. But certain glances, -or certain words spoken in whispers close beside me, have sometimes -disturbed me so that it required the utmost effort of which my will was -capable to combat their effect. -</p> -<p> -The face that impressed me at that moment was ideally beautiful; its -owner was beyond dispute the most beautiful woman in the whole theatre. -Meanwhile, the whole audience was roaring and stamping in admiration, -and she alone, the queen of the evening, seemed to be studying me -dispassionately, and to discover faults which the vulgar eye could not -detect. She was the Muse of Tragedy, stern Melpomene in person, with her -regular oval face, her black eyebrows, her high forehead, her raven -hair, her great eyes gleaming with a dark flame in their vast orbits, -and her stern lip, whose unbending curve was never softened by a smile; -and, with all the rest, in the very bloom and flower of youth, with a -graceful, lithe figure instinct with health. -</p> -<p> -"Who is that lovely dark girl with such a cold eye?" I asked Count Nasi, -during the entr'acte; he had taken a great liking to me, and came on the -stage every evening to chat with me. -</p> -<p> -"She is either the daughter or niece of Princess Grimani," was his -reply. "I do not know her, for she has just come from some convent or -other, and her mother, or aunt, is herself a stranger in this region. -All I can tell you is that Prince Grimani loves her like his own child, -that he will give her a handsome dowry, and that she is one of the -richest matches in Italy; and yet I shall never take my place in the -lists." -</p> -<p> -"Why not, pray?" -</p> -<p> -"Because they say she is insolent and vain, infatuated with her noble -birth, and of an overbearing disposition. I care so little for women of -that stamp that I don't even care to look at her when I meet her. They -say that she will be queen of the balls next winter, and that her beauty -is something marvellous. I don't know or want to know whether it is or is -not. I can't endure Grimani either; he is a genuine stage <i>hidalgo</i>; -and if it were not that he has a handsome fortune and a young wife who -is said to be attractive, I don't know how anyone could be induced to -endure the tedium of his conversation or the freezing stiffness of his -hospitality." -</p> -<p> -During the following scene I glanced at the proscenium box from time to -time. I was no longer disturbed by the thought that its occupants were -disposed to judge me unfavorably, since I had learned that the Grimanis -were accustomed to maintain a haughty demeanor even with people whom -they considered to belong to their own class. I looked at the girl with -the impartiality of a sculptor or a painter; she seemed to me even -lovelier than at first sight. Old Grimani, who was sitting beside her at -the front of the box, had a fine face, but stern and cold. That -supercilious couple seemed to exchange a few monosyllables at long -intervals, and at the end of the opera he rose slowly and went out, -without waiting for the ballet. -</p> -<p> -The next day the old man and the young woman were in the same place, in -the same unmoved attitude. I did not once see any trace of emotion, and -Prince Grimani slept sweetly throughout the first acts. The young woman, -on the contrary, seemed to be paying her whole attention to the -performance. Her great eyes were fastened on me like those of a ghost, -and that fixed, searching and profound gaze became so embarrassing to me -that I carefully avoided it. But, as if an evil spell had been cast upon -me, the more I tried to keep my eyes away, the more they persisted in -meeting those of the young sorceress. There was something so -extraordinarily powerful in that mysterious magnetism, that I was -assailed by childish dread of it, and feared that I should not be able -to finish the opera. I had never felt anything like it. There were times -when I fancied that I recognized that marble face, and I seemed to be on -the point of accosting her as an old friend. At other times I believed -that she was my deadly enemy, my evil genius, and I was tempted to hurl -violent reproaches at her. -</p> -<p> -The <i>seconda donna</i> added to my truly alarming discomfort by -whispering to me: -</p> -<p> -"Look out, Lelio, you'll catch the fever. That woman in the box will -give you the <i>jettatura</i>."<a id="FNanchor_6_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_1" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> -</p> -<p> -I had been a firm believer in the <i>jettatura</i> during the greater -part of my life. I no longer believed in it; but the love of the -marvellous, which is not easily dislodged from an Italian head, -especially that of a child of the people, had led me to indulge in most -extravagant reflections on the subject of animal magnetism. It was the -period when charming fancies of that sort were blooming luxuriantly all -over the world; Hoffmann was writing his <i>Tales</i>, and magnetism was -the mysterious pivot upon which all the hopes of the <i>illuminati</i> -turned. Whether because that foible had taken such complete possession -of me that it controlled my actions, or because it took me by surprise -at a moment when I was not in the best of health, I began to shiver from -head to foot, and I nearly fainted when I returned to the stage. That -wretched weakness finally gave place to wrath, and as I walked toward -the box in question with La Checchina—the <i>seconda donna</i> who -had mentioned the evil eye—I said to her, indicating my fair -enemy, but in a tone too low to be overheard by the audience, these -words paraphrased from one of our finest tragedies: -</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">"<i>Bella e stupida.</i>"</span> -</div></div> - -<p> -The signora flushed to the roots of her hair with anger. She started to -rouse Prince Grimani, who was sleeping with all his heart; but she -suddenly stopped, as if she had changed her mind, and kept her eyes -fixed upon me as before, but with a vindictive, threatening expression -which seemed to say: -</p> -<p> -"You shall repent of that." -</p> -<p> -Count Nasi accosted me as I left the theatre after the performance. -</p> -<p> -"Lelio," said he, "you are in love with the Grimani." -</p> -<p> -"Am I bewitched, in God's name," I cried, "and why is it that I cannot -rid myself of that apparition?" -</p> -<p> -"You won't rid yourself of it for a long time either, poor boy," said -Checchina, with a half-artless, half-mocking air; "that Grimani is the -devil. Wait a moment," she added, taking my arm, "I know something about -fever, and I will wager—<i>Corpo della Madonna</i>!"—she cried, -turning pale, "you have a terrible attack of fever, my poor Lelio!" -</p> -<p> -"One always has the fever when one acts and sings in a way to give it to -others," said the count; "come to supper with me, Lelio." -</p> -<p> -I declined; I was ill, in very truth. During the night I had a violent -fever, and the next day I could not leave my bed. Checchina installed -herself at my bedside and did not leave me all the time that I was ill. -</p> -<p> -Checchina was a young woman of twenty or thereabout, tall and large, and -of a somewhat masculine type of beauty, although very white and fair. -She was my sister and my kinswoman, that is to say, she came from -Chioggia. Like me she was a fisherman's child and had long employed her -strength beating the waters of the Adriatic with oars. A wild love of -independence led her to use her fine voice as a means of assuring -herself a free profession and a wandering life. She had run away from -her father's house and begun to roam about the country on foot, singing -in the public squares. I chanced to meet her at Milan, in a furnished -lodging-house where she was singing for the guests at the table d'hôte. -I recognized her as a Chioggian by her accent; I questioned her and -remembered seeing her as a child; but I was careful to say nothing by -which she could identify me as a <i>kinsman</i>, especially as that Daniele -Gemello who had left the neighborhood rather suddenly, as the result of -an unlucky duel. That duel cost a poor devil his life and his murderer -many sleepless nights. -</p> -<p> -Allow me to pass rapidly over that incident, and to avoid awakening a -bitter memory during our quiet evening. It will be enough for me to say -to Zorzi that the practice of duelling with knives was still in full -vigor at Chioggia in my youth, and the whole population acted as -seconds. Duels were fought in broad daylight, on the public square, and -insults were avenged by the wager of combat, as in the days of chivalry. -My melancholy success exiled me from the province! for the <i>podestat</i> -was far from lenient in such matters, and the law inflicted severe -penalties upon the last remnants of those savage old customs. Perhaps -this will explain why I always concealed the story of my early years, -and why I travelled over the world under the name of Lelio, sending -money secretly to my family, writing to them with the greatest caution, -and disclosing to no one, not even to them, my means of subsistence, for -fear that, by corresponding with me they might draw upon themselves the -open hostility of those families in Chioggia whom the death of my -assailant had angered more or less. -</p> -<p> -But, as my origin was betrayed by an ineradicable trace of the Venetian -accent, I passed myself off as a native of Palestrina, and Checchina had -adopted the habit of calling me her <i>countryman</i>, her <i>cousin</i> or -her <i>gossip</i>, as it happened. -</p> -<p> -Thanks to my care and my assistance, Checchina rapidly acquired -considerable talent, and at the time of my life of which I am now -speaking, she had been engaged on honorable terms as a member of the -troupe at San Carlo. -</p> -<p> -She was a strange but most excellent creature, was Checchina; she had -improved wonderfully since I had picked her out of the gutter, so to -speak; but she still retained, and retains to this day, a certain -rusticity which does not altogether disappear on the stage, and which -makes her the first actress in the world in such rôles as Zerlina. She -had corrected in large measure the amplitude of her gestures and the -abruptness of her speech, but she retained enough of both to come very -near being comic in pathetic parts. However, as she had intelligence and -feeling, she raised herself to a relatively high position, but the -public did not give her all the credit she deserved. Opinions were -divided concerning her, and a certain abbé said that she brushed so -close to the sublime and the farcical that there was not enough room -left between the two for her long arms. -</p> -<p> -Unluckily, Checchina had one failing, from which, by the way, the -greatest artists are not exempt. She satisfied herself only in rôles -which were entirely unsuited to her, and, scorning those in which she -could best display her <i>verve</i>, her unconstant and her restless -activity, she insisted upon producing great effects in tragedy. Like a -true village maiden, she was intoxicated by superb costumes, and fancied -that she was really a queen when she wore a diadem and a royal cloak. -Her tall, lithe figure, her graceful, quasi-martial bearing, made of her a -magnificent statue when she was not in motion. But her exaggerated gestures -constantly betrayed the young oarswoman, and when I desired, on the -stage, to warn her to be less vehement, I would whisper: "<i>Per dio</i>! -<i>non vogar</i>! <i>non siamo qui sull' Adriatico</i>."<a id="FNanchor_7_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_1" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> -</p> -<p> -Whether Checchina was my mistress is a question of little interest to -you, I presume. I can only assure you that she was not at the time of -which I am speaking, and that I was indebted for her affectionate care -to nothing else than the kindness of her heart and her unfailing -gratitude. She has always been a devoted sister and friend to me, and -many a time she has risked a rupture with her most brilliant lovers, -rather than desert me or neglect me when my health or my interests -demanded her zealous care or her aid. -</p> -<p> -As I was saying, she took up her post at my bedside, and did not leave -me until she had cured me. Her tireless devotion to me vexed Count Nasi -somewhat, although he was my friend and placed full confidence in my -word; but he himself confessed to me what he called his miserable -weakness. When I urged Checchina to deal more gently with that excellent -young man's involuntary sensitiveness, she would say: -</p> -<p> -"Nonsense! Don't you see that I must train him to respect my -independence? Do you suppose that, when I am his wife, I will consent to -abandon my stage friends and worry about what people in society think of -me? Don't believe it, Lelio. I propose to remain free, and to obey the -voice of my heart and nothing else." -</p> -<p> -She had persuaded herself, with none too good reason, that the count was -fully determined to marry her; and I may say that she possessed, to a -marvellous degree, the gift of deluding herself with respect to the -violence of the passions she inspired; nothing could equal her -confidence in a promise, unless it were her philosophical and heroic -indifference when she was deceived. -</p> -<p> -I suffered considerably; my disease came very near assuming a serious -character. The doctors found a very pronounced tendency to enlargement -of the heart, and the very sharp pains which I felt about that organ and -the excessive rush of blood thither necessitated numerous bleedings. So -that I lost the rest of that season, and, as soon as I was convalescent, -I went for rest and balmy air to a beautiful villa of Count Nasi's, a -few leagues from Florence, near Cafaggiolo, at the foot of the -Apennines. He promised to join me there with Checchina as soon as the -performances for which she was engaged would allow her to leave Naples. -</p> -<p> -A few days of that delightful solitude benefited me so much that I was -allowed to take excursions of some length, sometimes in the saddle, -sometimes on foot, through the narrow gorges and picturesque ravines -which form a first step to the towering masses of the Apennines. In my -musing I called that region the <i>proscenium</i> of the great range, and I -loved to seek out some amphitheatre of hills or some natural terrace -where, all alone and far from every eye, I could indulge in outbursts of -lyric declamation, which were answered by the resonant echoes or the -mysterious murmur of the streams flowing under the rocks. -</p> -<p> -One day I unexpectedly found myself on the Florence road. Like a -glistening white ribbon it ran through a verdant, gently undulating -country, strewn with beautiful gardens, wooded parks and handsome -villas. Seeking to learn my whereabouts, I stopped at the gate of one of -those charming abodes. The gate was open, and I could see an avenue of -old trees mysteriously intertwined. Beneath those dark, voluptuously -enlaced branches a woman was walking slowly—a woman of slender form -and a bearing so noble that I paused to gaze at her and follow her with my -eyes as long as possible. As she showed no inclination to turn, I was -seized with an irresistible longing to see her features, and I yielded -to it, heedless of the fact that I was violating the proprieties, and -might be subjected to a humiliating rebuff. -</p> -<p> -"Who can say," I said to myself, "women are so indulgent sometimes in -this mild climate of ours!" -</p> -<p> -Moreover, I reasoned that my face was too well known for me ever to be -taken for a robber; and, lastly, I relied to some extent on the -curiosity which the great majority of people feel to obtain a near view -of the features and manners of an artist of some celebrity. -</p> -<p> -So I ventured into the shady avenue, walking rapidly, and was just about -to overtake the solitary promenader, when I saw coming toward her a -young man dressed in the latest fashion, and with a pretty, insipid -face, who caught sight of me before I had time to jump in among the -trees. I was within three yards of the noble pair. The young man stopped -beside the lady, offered her his arm, and said to her, glancing at me -with the most surprised air of which a perfectly attired man is capable: -</p> -<p> -"My dear cousin, who is this man who is following you?" -</p> -<p> -The lady turned, and the sight of her gave me such a shock that for a -moment I was in danger of a relapse. My heart gave a sharp, nervous -throb as I recognized the young woman who stared at me in such a curious -way from her proscenium box at the time I was taken ill at Naples. Her -face flushed slightly, then lost its color. But no gesture, no -exclamation betrayed either surprise or anger. She eyed me from head to -foot with calm disdain, and replied with incredible audacity: -</p> -<p> -"I don't know him." -</p> -<p> -That extraordinary statement aroused my curiosity. It seemed to me that -I could detect in that girl such consummate dissimulation and such a -strange sort of pride that I suddenly felt irresistibly impelled to take -the risk of a mad adventure. We Bohemians do not allow ourselves to be -awed overmuch by the customs of society and the laws of propriety; we -have no great fear of being ejected from those private theatres where -society takes its turn at posing before us, and where we feel so -strongly the superiority of the artist; for there no one can arouse in -us the intense emotions which we have the art of arousing. Salons bore -us to death and chill our blood, in return for the warmth and life that -we carry thither. So I approached my noble hosts with a dignified air, -caring very little about the manner of their reception of me, and -determined to take the first convenient pretext for obtaining admission -to the house. -</p> -<p> -I bowed gravely and represented myself as a piano-tuner who had been -sent for to Florence from a country-house, the name of which I pretended -to remember imperfectly. -</p> -<p> -"This is not the place. You may quit this place," replied the signora, -coldly. But, like a true fiancé, the cousin came to my assistance. -</p> -<p> -"My dear cousin," he said, "your piano is terribly out of tune; if this -man could spare an hour, we might have some music this evening. I beg -you to let him tune it, won't you?" -</p> -<p> -The young Grimani had a wicked smile on her lips as she replied: -</p> -<p> -"As you please, cousin." -</p> -<p> -"Does she propose to amuse herself at my expense or his?" I thought. -"Perhaps both." -</p> -<p> -I bowed slightly to signify my consent. Thereupon the cousin, with -careless courtesy, pointed out to me a glass door at the end of the -avenue, where the branches, drooping lower and lower until they formed a -sort of arbor, concealed the front of the villa. -</p> -<p> -"At the end of the large salon, signor," he said, "you will find a -study. The piano is there. I shall have the honor to see you again when -you have finished. Shall we walk as far as the pond?" he added, turning -to his cousin. -</p> -<p> -I saw her smile again, almost imperceptibly, but with the keenest -delight at the mortification that I felt, while she let me go in one -direction and continued her stroll in the other, leaning on the arm of -her elegant and aristocratic cousin. -</p> -<p> -It is not a very difficult matter to put a piano <i>almost</i> in tune, and -although I had never tried before, I succeeded very well; but I spent -much more time about it than an experienced hand would have required, -and I watched with some impatience the sun sinking behind the treetops; -for I had no other pretext for another interview with my singular -heroine than to hear her try the piano when it was in tune. So I worked -away awkwardly enough, and was in the midst of a monotonous drumming -with which I was almost deafening myself, when I raised my head and saw -the signora before me, half turned toward the fireplace, but watching me -in the mirror with malicious intentness. To meet her sidelong glance and -turn my eyes away was a matter of a second. I continued my work with the -utmost coolness, resolved to watch the enemy and see what she was -driving at. -</p> -<p> -La Grimani—I continued to give her that name in my mind, knowing no -other—made a pretence of arranging some flowers in the vases on the -mantel with great care; then she moved a chair, moved it back to the -place where it was before, dropped her fan, picked it up with a great -rustling of her skirts, opened a window, and instantly closed it again, -then, seeing that I was determined not to notice anything, she adopted -the extreme course of dropping a stool on her pretty little foot and -uttering a cry of pain. I was stupid enough to drop the key on the -metallic strings, which emitted a piteous wail. The signora started, -shrugged her shoulders, and, suddenly recovering all her -self-possession, as if we were acting a scene in a burlesque, she looked -me in the face and said: -</p> -<p> -"<i>Cosa, signore?</i>" -</p> -<p> -"I thought that your ladyship spoke to me," I replied, with no less -tranquillity, and resumed my work. She remained standing in the middle -of the room as if petrified by amazement in the face of such audacity, -or as if brought to a standstill by a sudden doubt as to my identity -with the person whom she had thought that she recognized. At last she -lost patience, and asked me, almost roughly, if I had nearly finished. -</p> -<p> -"Oh! bless my soul, no! signora," I replied; "here is a broken string, -you see." As I spoke I gave the key a sharp twist on the pin I was -turning, and broke the string. -</p> -<p> -"It seems to me," said she, "that this piano is giving you a great deal -of trouble." -</p> -<p> -"A great deal," I rejoined, "the strings keep breaking." And I snapped a -second one. -</p> -<p> -"That is very extraordinary," she exclaimed. -</p> -<p> -"Yes, it is indeed extraordinary," I replied. -</p> -<p> -The cousin entered at that moment, and I snapped a third string by way -of salute. It was one of the lower bass strings, and it made a terrible -report. The cousin, who was not expecting it, stepped back, and the -signora laughed aloud. That laugh had a strange sound to me. It was not -in harmony with her face or her manner; it was harsh and spasmodic, and -disconcerted the cousin so that I almost pitied him. -</p> -<p> -"I am very much afraid," she said, when that nervous paroxysm came to an -end and she was able to speak, "I am very much afraid that we cannot -have any music to-night. This poor old <i>cembalo</i> is bewitched, all the -strings are breaking. It is really supernatural, I assure you, Hector; -if you so much as look at them they twist and snap with a horrible -noise." -</p> -<p> -With that she began to laugh again, peal upon peal, without the -slightest trace of merriment on her face. The cousin laughed because she -did, but was abruptly checked by these words from her: -</p> -<p> -"For heaven's sake, cousin, don't laugh; you haven't the slightest -inclination to." -</p> -<p> -The cousin seemed to me to be well used to being laughed at and teased. -But he was hurt, no doubt, to be treated so in my presence; for he said -in an irritated tone: -</p> -<p> -"Why shouldn't I be inclined to laugh as well as you, cousin?" -</p> -<p> -"Because I say that you are not," she replied. "But tell me, Hector," -she added, abruptly changing the subject, "were you at San Carlo last -year?" -</p> -<p> -"No, cousin." -</p> -<p> -"In that case you did not hear the famous Lelio?" -</p> -<p> -She said these last words with significant emphasis; but she had not the -impudence to look me in the face immediately, and I had time to recover -from the emotion caused me by that blow full in the face. -</p> -<p> -"I neither heard him nor saw him," said the guileless cousin, "but I -heard a great dea! about him. He's a great artist, so I understand." -</p> -<p> -"Very great," replied La Grimani, "a full head taller than you. See! he -is about this gentleman's height.—Do you know him, signor?" she -added, turning to me. -</p> -<p> -"I know him very well, signora," I replied tartly; "he is a very -handsome fellow, a very great actor, an admirable singer, a very clever -talker, a bold and spirited adventurer, and, furthermore, a fearless -duellist, which is not amiss." -</p> -<p> -The signora looked at her cousin, then glanced at me, with an -indifferent air, as if to say: "It's of little consequence to me." Then -she went off into another paroxysm of inextinguishable laughter, which -was altogether unnatural, and in which neither her cousin nor myself -joined. I returned to my pursuit of the dominant chord on the keyboard, -and Signor Ettore moved about impatiently, making his new boots squeak -on the floor, as if he were utterly disgusted with the conversation -being carried on between a mere workman like myself and his noble -fiancée. -</p> -<p> -"Look you, cousin, you mustn't believe what he says about Lelio," -observed the signora, abruptly ceasing her convulsive laughter. "So far -as the man's great beauty is concerned, I cannot contradict him for I -didn't look at him; and, besides, an actor can always appear young and -handsome with his paint and his false hair and moustaches. But as to his -being an admirable singer and a good actor, that I deny. In the first -place he sings false, in the second place he acts detestably. His -declamation is too loud, his gestures commonplace, the expression of his -features stiff and conventional. When he weeps, he makes wry faces; when -he threatens, he roars; when he is majestic, he is tedious; and, in his -best moments, when he holds himself back and doesn't speak, one might -apply to him the refrain of the ballad: -</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">"'<i>Brutto è quanto stupido.</i>'</span> -</div></div> - -<p> -I am sorry to disagree with this gentleman; but my opinion is the -opinion of the public! It isn't my fault that Lelio didn't have the -slightest success at San Carlo, and I don't advise you to take the -journey to Naples to see him, cousin." -</p> -<p> -Having received this stinging lesson, for a moment I was on the verge of -losing my head and picking a quarrel with the cousin to punish the -signora; but the excellent youth did not give me time. -</p> -<p> -"That is just like a woman," he cried, "and above all things just like -one of your inconceivable whims, cousin! Not more than three days ago, -you told me that Lelio was the finest actor and the most incomparable -singer in all Italy. I have no doubt that you will say to-morrow just -the opposite of what you say to-day, with the privilege of taking it all -back again the next day." -</p> -<p> -"To-morrow and the day after to-morrow and every day of my life, my dear -cousin," the signora hurriedly interposed, "I will tell you that you are -a fool and Lelio an idiot." -</p> -<p> -"Brava, signora," rejoined the cousin in an undertone, offering her his -arm to leave the salon; "he who loves you is a fool, and he who -displeases you an idiot." -</p> -<p> -"Before your lordship and ladyship retire," I said, without the -slightest symptom of emotion, "I will call your attention to the fact -that this piano is in such a bad condition that I cannot possibly repair -it properly in one day. I am obliged to go now; but if such is your -wish, I will return to-morrow." -</p> -<p> -"Certainly, signor," replied the cousin, with patronizing politeness, -half turning toward me; "you will oblige me if you will return -to-morrow." -</p> -<p> -La Grimani, stopping him with a sudden and energetic motion of her head, -forced him to turn wholly around, and as she stood in the doorway, -leaning on his arm and eyeing me with an air of defiance, she said, as -she saw me close the piano and take my hat: -</p> -<p> -"Will the signor come again to-morrow?" -</p> -<p> -"Most certainly I shall not fail to do so," I replied, bowing to the -ground. -</p> -<p> -She continued to detain her cousin in the doorway, so that I was obliged -to pass in front of them in order to go out; and, as I did so, I bowed -again and looked my Bradamante in the eye with an assurance befitting -the combat upon which we had entered. A gleam of undaunted courage -flashed from her eyes. Therein I read distinctly that my boldness did -not displease her, and that the lists were not closed to me. -</p> -<p> -So I was at my post before noon the next day, and found my heroine at -hers, seated at the piano and touching the silent or jangling keys with -admirable indifference, as if she desired to prove to me by those -diabolical discords her detestation and contempt for music. -</p> -<p> -I entered calmly and saluted her with as much respectful indifference as -if I were in reality a piano-tuner. I placed my hat carelessly on a -chair, I laboriously drew off my gloves, imitating the awkwardness of a -man unused to wearing them. I took from my pocket a wooden box filled -with spools of wire, and began to unwind enough for one string—all -with the utmost gravity and without affectation. The signora continued to -pound the hapless piano in unmerciful fashion, although the sounds she -produced were of a nature to put to flight the most hardened savages. I -at once saw that she was amusing herself by destroying its tone and -breaking it more and more, in order to provide work for me, and I -detected more coquetry than cruelty in that devilment; for she seemed -disposed to remain with me. -</p> -<p> -Thereupon I said to her with a perfectly serious face: "Does your -ladyship think that the piano begins to be in tune?" -</p> -<p> -"The harmony is satisfactory to me," she said, biting her lips to keep -from laughing, "and the sounds it gives forth are extremely pleasant to -the ear." -</p> -<p> -"It is a fine instrument," said I. -</p> -<p> -"And in very good condition," she rejoined. -</p> -<p> -"Your ladyship is a very talented performer." -</p> -<p> -"As you see." -</p> -<p> -"That is a charming waltz, and exceedingly well executed." -</p> -<p> -"Is it not? How could one help playing well on an instrument in such -perfect tune? You love music, signor?" -</p> -<p> -"A little, signora; but your playing goes to my heart." -</p> -<p> -"In that case I will continue." And she proceeded, with a fiendish -smile, to murder one of the <i>bravura</i> airs she had heard me sing with -the greatest applause on the stage. -</p> -<p> -"Is his lordship your cousin well?" I said, when she had finished. -</p> -<p> -"He is hunting." -</p> -<p> -"Is your ladyship fond of game?" -</p> -<p> -"I am immoderately fond of it. And you, signor?" -</p> -<p> -"I am sincerely and deeply partial to it." -</p> -<p> -"Which do you like best, game or music?" -</p> -<p> -"I like music at table, but at this moment I should like some game -better." -</p> -<p> -She rose and rang. A servant appeared instantly, as if he were a piece -of machinery set in motion by the bell-rope. -</p> -<p> -"Bring the game-pie that I saw in the pantry this morning," said the -signora; and two minutes later the servant reappeared with an enormous -pie, which he majestically placed on the piano at a sign from his -mistress. A large salver, covered with dishes and all the accessories -necessary for the refreshment of civilized beings, appeared as if by -magic on the other side of the instrument, and the signora, with a -strong but light touch, broke through the rampart of appetizing crust -and made a large breach in the fortress. -</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 STRANGE LUNCHEON.</i></p> -<p class="smaller"> -"<i>This is a conquest in which our lords and masters -the French shall have no share," she said, taking -possession of a partridge which she placed on a -Japanese plate; and she went with it to the other -end of the room, where she squatted upon a velvet -hassock with gold tassels, and proceeded to devour it.</i></p> -</div></div> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -"This is a conquest in which our lords and masters the French shall have -no share," she said, taking possession of a partridge which she placed -on a Japanese plate; and she went with it to the other end of the room, -where she squatted upon a velvet hassock with gold tassels, and -proceeded to devour it. -</p> -<p> -I gazed at her in amazement, uncertain whether she was mad or was trying -to mystify me. -</p> -<p> -"You are not eating?" she said, without moving. -</p> -<p> -"Your ladyship has not ordered me to do so," I replied. -</p> -<p> -"Oh! don't stand on ceremony," said she, continuing to eat with great -zest. -</p> -<p> -The pie had such an alluring look and such a delicious odor that I -listened to the philosophical arguments of common sense. I placed -another partridge on another Japanese plate, which I rested on the -keyboard of the piano, and began to eat with as much gusto as the -signora. -</p> -<p> -"If this is not the castle of the Sleeping Beauty," I thought, "and if -this cruel fairy is not the only living being in it, we shall soon see -an uncle or a father or an aunt or a governess, or somebody who is -supposed, in the eyes of honest folk, to serve as chaperon to this -untamed creature. In case of any such apparition, I should like to know -just how far this eccentric fashion of breakfasting on a piano, -tête-à-tête with the young lady of the house, will be considered -seemly. It matters little after all; I must find out just where these -extravagant whims are likely to carry me, and if there is a woman's -spite behind them, I will have my turn if I have to wait ten years." -</p> -<p> -As I reflected thus I watched my fair hostess over the piano. She was -eating with superhuman appetite, and seemed to be in no wise possessed -by the idiotic mania which young ladies have of eating only in secret, -and pressing their lips together at table with a sentimental air, as if -they were of a nature superior to ours. Lord Byron had not yet -introduced the fashion of lack of appetite among the fair sex. So that -my capricious signora abandoned herself with all her heart to the -enjoyment of feasting, and in a few moments she returned to me and took -a fillet of hare and a pheasant's wing from the dismantled pie. She -looked at me without a smile, and said sententiously: "This east wind -gives me an appetite." -</p> -<p> -"It seems that your ladyship is blessed with an excellent digestive -apparatus," I observed. -</p> -<p> -"If one had not a good stomach at fifteen," she replied, "it would be as -well to throw up the sponge." -</p> -<p> -"Fifteen!" I cried, looking at her closely and dropping my fork. -</p> -<p> -"Fifteen years and two months," she replied, returning to her hassock -with her freshly-filled plate; "my mother is not yet thirty-two, and she -married again last year. Tell me, isn't it strange that a mother should -marry before her daughter? To be sure, if my darling little mother had -chosen to wait for me to be married, she would have had to wait a long -while. Who would ever marry a girl who, although she is beautiful, is -<i>stupid</i> beyond anything one can imagine?" -</p> -<p> -There was so much merriment and good-humor in the serious air with which -she made fun of me; she was such a pretty <i>loustig</i>, that tall girl -with the black eyes and the long curls falling over a neck as white as -alabaster; her manner of sitting on her cushion was so graceful yet so -chaste in its perfect naturalness, that all my suspicion and all my evil -designs vanished. I had determined to empty the decanter of wine in -order to put my scruples to sleep. I pushed the decanter away, and, -having satisfied my appetite, rested my elbow on the piano and began to -study her anew, and under a new aspect. That revelation as to her age -had thrown all my ideas into confusion. When I have desired to form an -opinion concerning a person, especially one of the fair sex, I have -always considered it a matter of the utmost importance to ascertain that -person's age as nearly as possible. Subtlety increases so rapidly in -women that six months more or less often make the difference between the -innocence which is deviltry and the deviltry which is innocence. Until -then I had imagined that La Grimani was at least twenty years old. She -was so tall and strong and dark, and there was so much self-assurance in -her glance, in her bearing, in her every movement, that everybody made -the same mistake at first sight. But on examining her more closely I -realized my error. Her shoulders were broad and powerful, but her breast -was still undeveloped. Although her whole attitude was womanly there -were certain little ways and certain expressions of the face which -revealed the child. Nothing more was needed than that hearty appetite, -that total absence of coquetry, and the audacious impropriety of the -tête-à-tête she had arranged to have with me, to make it clear to my -eyes that I had to do, not as I had supposed at first, with a proud and -crafty woman of the world, but with a mischievous boarding-school girl, -and I thrust aside with horror the idea of abusing her imprudence. -</p> -<p> -I remained for a long while absorbed in this scrutiny, forgetting to -reply to the significant challenge I had received. She looked at me -earnestly, and I no longer thought of avoiding her glance, but of -analyzing it. She had the loveliest eyes in the world, flush with her -face, and very wide open; their glance was always sharp and direct, and -grasped its object instantly. It was imperious but not overbearing, a -very rare thing in a woman. It was the revelation and the expression of -a fearless, proud, and sincere mind. It questioned all things with an -air of authority, and seemed to say: "Conceal nothing from me: for I -have nothing to conceal from anybody." -</p> -<p> -When she saw that I did not shrink from her gaze, she was startled but -not frightened; and, rising abruptly, she invited the explanation which -I desired to propose. -</p> -<p> -"Signor Lelio," she said, "if you have finished your breakfast, you will -kindly tell me why you came here." -</p> -<p> -"I will obey you, signora," I replied, picking up her plate and glass, -which she had left on the floor, and carrying them back to the piano; -"but I beg your ladyship to tell me whether the piano-tuner shall answer -you sitting at the instrument, or whether the actor Lelio shall stand -before you, hat in hand, ready to retire after he has had the honor to -talk with you." -</p> -<p> -"Signor Lelio will kindly sit in this chair," she said, pointing to one -on the right hand of the fire-place, "and I in this," she added, taking -her seat on the left side, facing me and about ten feet away. -</p> -<p> -"Signora," I said, as I sat down, "in order to obey you I must go back a -little. About two months ago I was playing in <i>Romeo and Juliet</i> at -San Carlo. There was in one of the proscenium boxes——" -</p> -<p> -"I can refresh your memory," interposed La Grimani. "There was in one of -the proscenium boxes on the right of the stage a young woman whom you -considered beautiful; but on looking at her more closely, it seemed to -you that her face was so devoid of expression that you shouted to one of -the ladies on the stage, loud enough to be overheard by the young woman -in question——" -</p> -<p> -"In heaven's name! signora," I interrupted, "do not repeat the words -that escaped from me in my delirium, and let me tell you that I am -subject to attacks of nervous irritation which make me almost insane. -When I am in that condition everything offends me, everything causes me -intense suffering——" -</p> -<p> -"I do not ask why it was your pleasure to announce so concisely your -judgment of the young woman in the box; I simply ask you for the rest of -the story." -</p> -<p> -"In order to be perfectly truthful and coherent, I must insist upon the -prologue. Under the influence of a first attack of fever, the beginning -of a serious illness from which I have hardly recovered, I fancied that -I could read profound contempt and frigid irony on the incomparably -lovely face of the young lady in the proscenium box. I was annoyed at -first, then seriously disturbed, and at last completely upset, so that I -lost my head and yielded to a brutal impulse in order to put an end to -the fatal spell which benumbed all my faculties and paralyzed me at the -most powerful and most important part of my rôle. Your ladyship must -forgive me for an act of madness; I believe in magnetism, especially on -those days when I am ill and when my brain is as weak as my legs. I -fancied that the young lady in the box had an injurious influence over -me; and during the cruel disease which took full possession of me on the -day following my offence, I will confess that she often appeared in my -delirium; but always haughty, always threatening, and promising me that -I should pay dearly for the blasphemy that fell from my lips. Such, -signora, is the first part of my story." -</p> -<p> -I made ready my shield to ward off a volley of epigrams by way of -comment on this strange tale, which, although true, was most improbable, -I must confess. But the young Grimani, gazing at me with a gentleness -which I had no idea could be found in conjunction with her type of -beauty, said to me, leaning a little heavily on the arm of her chair: -</p> -<p> -"Your face does in truth show signs of great suffering, Signor Lelio; -and if I must confess the whole truth, when I recognized you yesterday, -I said to myself that I must have observed you very carelessly on the -stage; for you seemed to me then ten years younger; but to-day you seem -no older than you did on the stage; but still I think that you look ill, -and I am very, very sorry that I caused you any irritation." -</p> -<p> -I involuntarily moved my chair nearer to hers; whereupon she at once -resumed her mocking and capricious tone. -</p> -<p> -"Let us pass to the second part of your story, Signor Lelio," she said, -playing with her fan, "and be kind enough to tell me why, instead of -avoiding the person the sight of whom is so hateful and prejudicial to -you, you have come as far as this in pursuit of her." -</p> -<p> -"At this point the author finds himself in an embarrassing position," I -replied, pushing back my chair, which moved very easily at the slightest -turn in the conversation. "Shall I tell you that chance alone led me -here? If I do, will your ladyship believe it? and if I say that it was -not chance, will your ladyship tolerate such impertinence?" -</p> -<p> -"It matters very little to me," she rejoined, "whether it is chance, or -magnetic attraction, as you will say, perhaps, that brings you to this -neighborhood; I simply desire to know by what chance you became a -piano-tuner?" -</p> -<p> -"The chance of inspiration, signora; a pretext to obtain admission to -this house was all that I wanted." -</p> -<p> -"But why did you wish to be admitted to this house?" -</p> -<p> -"I will answer frankly if your ladyship will deign first to tell me what -chance induced you to admit me, although you recognized me at the first -glance?" -</p> -<p> -"The chance of caprice, Signor Lelio. I was bored to death here, alone -with my cousin, or with a pious old aunt whom I hardly know; and while -one is hunting and the other at church, I thought that I might venture -to enliven by a mad freak the ghastly solitude in which I am left to -pine away." -</p> -<p> -Once more my chair of its own motion approached hers, but I hesitated to -take her hand. At that moment she seemed to me decidedly forward. There -are some girls who are born women, and who are corrupt before they have -lost their innocence. -</p> -<p> -"She is a child, beyond doubt," I thought, "but a child who is tired of -being one, and I should be a great fool not to reply to allurements -resorted to so coolly and boldly. Faith! I am sorry for the cousin! Why -does he care more for hunting than for his kinswoman?" -</p> -<p> -But the signora paid no heed to the agitation that had laid hold of me. -"Now the farce is at an end," she continued; "we have eaten my cousin's -game and I have talked with an actor. I have fooled my aunt and my -future spouse. Last week my cousin was furious because I praised you -with what he considered too great warmth. Now, when he mentions you to -me, and when my aunt says that the actors are all excommunicated in -France, I will look at the floor with a modest and beatific expression, -and laugh in my sleeve to think that I know Signor Lelio, and that I -breakfasted with him, in this very room, without anyone's suspecting it. -But now, Signor Lelio, you must tell me why you chose to obtain -admission to this house by playing a false rôle?" -</p> -<p> -"Forgive me, signora—you just now said something which touched me -deeply. You said, did you not, that you praised me last week with <i>great -warmth</i>?" -</p> -<p> -"Oh! I only did it to make my cousin angry. I am not naturally -enthusiastic." -</p> -<p> -When she flaunted me, it revived my zest for the adventure, and -emboldened me. -</p> -<p> -"Since you are so frank with me, signora," I rejoined, "I will be -equally frank with your ladyship. I sought admission to this house with -the intention of atoning for my crime and humbly imploring the -forgiveness of the divine beauty I blasphemed." -</p> -<p> -As I spoke, I slipped from my chair, and knelt at La Grimani's feet, and -was very near taking possession of her lovely hands. She did not seem -greatly moved by my action; but I saw that, to conceal a slight -embarrassment, she pretended to be examining the Chinese mandarins whose -gowns of purple and gold gleamed resplendent on her fan. -</p> -<p> -"Really, signor," she said, without looking at me, "you are very good to -think that you owe me an apology. In the first place, if I have a stupid -look, you are not at all to blame for noticing it; in the second place, -if I have not, it is a matter of absolute indifference to me whether or -not you are persuaded that I have." -</p> -<p> -"I swear by all the gods, and particularly by Apollo, that I said what I -did only because I was angry or mad, or it may be because of a very -different sentiment, which was then but just born and was already sowing -confusion in my mind. I saw that you considered me detestable, and that -you were not inclined to be at all indulgent to me; could I tranquilly -resign myself to lose the only approbation which it would have been -sweet and glorious for me to obtain? In a word, signora, I am here; I -discovered your abode, and though I barely knew your name, I sought you, -pursued you, and reached you in spite of distance and obstacles. I am -here at your feet. Do you think that I would have surmounted such -difficulties if I had not been tortured by remorse, not because of you, -who justly disdain to consider the effect of your charms on a poor -player like myself; but because of God, whose fairest work I insulted -and undervalued?" -</p> -<p> -While I was speaking, I ventured to take one of her hands; but she -suddenly sprang to her feet, saying: -</p> -<p> -"Rise, signor, rise! here is my cousin coming back from hunting." -</p> -<p> -Indeed, I had barely time to run to the piano and open it before Signor -Ettore Grimani, in hunting costume and gun in hand, entered the room and -deposited his well-filled game-bag at his cousin's feet. -</p> -<p> -"Oh! don't come so near me," said the signora; "you are horribly dirty, -and all those bleeding creatures make me sick. Oh! Hector, go away, I -beg, and take all these nasty great dogs with you; they smell of mud and -soil the floor." -</p> -<p> -The cousin was fain to be content with that outburst of gratitude, and -to go to his room and perfume himself at his leisure. But he had no -sooner gone out than a sort of duenna appeared and informed the signora -that her aunt had returned and wished to see her. -</p> -<p> -"I will go," La Grimani replied; "and do you, signor," she said, turning -to me, "take this key away with you, as it is broken, and glue it -firmly. You must bring it back to-morrow, and finish replacing the -missing strings. I can count on you, signor? You will be sure to come?" -</p> -<p> -"Yes, signora, you may rely upon it," I replied; and I took my leave, -carrying away the wrong key, which was not broken. -</p> -<p> -I was on hand promptly on the following day. But do not think, my -friends, that I was in love with that young person; the utmost that can -be said is that she attracted me. She was extremely lovely; but I saw -her beauty with the eyes of the body, I did not feel it through the eyes -of the soul; if, from time to time, I was on the point of falling in -love with that childish petulance, my doubts soon returned, and I said -to myself that a girl who lied so coolly to her cousin and her governess -might well have lied to me; that, perhaps, she was twenty years old or -more, as I had thought at first; and that it was quite likely that she -had indulged in some previous escapades for which she had been secluded -in that dull villa, with no other society than a pious old woman whose -duty it was to scold her, and an excellent young cousin predestined to -take upon his back, in his guilelessness, all her errors, past, present -and to come. -</p> -<p> -I found her in the salon with the dear cousin and three or four hunting -dogs, who came very near devouring me. The signora, who was nothing if -not capricious, honored those noble beasts with very different treatment -from that of the day before, and although they were hardly less dirty -and disagreeable, she obligingly allowed them to lie, one by one, or all -in a heap, on a large sofa of red velvet with gold fringe. From time to -time she sat down in the midst of them, petting some and playfully -teasing others. -</p> -<p> -Before long, I concluded that this revulsion of feeling toward the dogs -was a bit of affectionate coquetry addressed to her cousin; for the -fair-haired Signor Ettore seemed greatly flattered by it, and I don't -know which he loved best, his cousin or his dogs. -</p> -<p> -She was bewilderingly vivacious, and she seemed to be keyed up to such a -high pitch, the glances that she bestowed upon me in the mirror were so -keen-edged, that I longed for the cousin's departure. And he did leave -the room before long. The signora gave him an errand to do. She had to -ask him several times, but he finally obeyed an imperious glance, -accompanied by a: "Don't you propose to go?" uttered in a tone which he -seemed altogether incapable of defying. -</p> -<p> -He had no sooner disappeared than I turned away from the piano and rose, -looking in the signora's eyes to see whether I should go to her or wait -for her to come to me. She, too, was standing, and seemed to be trying -to read in my face what I was likely to do. But she gave me little -encouragement, and as I fancied that her lips were partly open to give -me a harsh lesson if I should be unlucky enough to lose my wits in that -perilous engagement, I began to feel somewhat disturbed inwardly. I do -not know why it was that that exchange of glances, at once alluring and -distrustful, that effervescence of our whole being which kept us both as -motionless as statues, that alternation of audacity and fear which -paralyzed me at what was perhaps the decisive moment of my adventure, -and even La Grimani's black velvet gown, and the bright sunlight which -shone into the room through the dark curtains and expired in a fantastic -blending of light and shadow at our feet—the hour, the burning -atmosphere, and the restrained beating of my heart—all combined to -bring vividly to my mind an analogous scene of my youth: Signora Bianca -Aldini, in the shadow of her gondola, enchaining with a magnetic glance -one of my feet on the shore of the Lido, the other on the boat. I felt -the same mental bewilderment, the same inward agitation, the same -desire, ready to give place to the same wrath. "Can it be," I thought, -"that it was self-esteem that made me desire Bianca then, or is it love -that makes me desire La Grimani to-day?" -</p> -<p> -It was not possible for me to rush forth into the fields, singing -recklessly, as I had on that former occasion leaped ashore on the Lido, -to revenge myself for a bit of innocent coquetry. There was no other -course for me to adopt than to resume my seat, no other way for me to -revenge myself than to begin again on the major fifth: -<i>A-mi-la-E-si-mi</i>. -</p> -<p> -I must admit that that method of venting my spite could not afford me a -signal triumph. An imperceptible smile fluttered about the corners of -the signora's mouth when I bent my legs to sit down, and it seemed to me -that I could read these pleasant words on her face: "Lelio you are a -child."—But, when I abruptly rose again, ready to hurl the piano -across the room and fly to her feet, I plainly read these terrible words in her -black eye: "Signor, you are a madman." -</p> -<p> -"Signora Aldini," I reflected, "was twenty-two years old, I was fifteen -or sixteen; now I am more than twenty-two. That Bianca should govern me -absolutely was natural enough, but it is not natural that I should be -made a fool of by this girl. So I must be cool." -</p> -<p> -I calmly resumed my seat, saying: -</p> -<p> -"Excuse me, signora, if I look at the clock. I cannot stay long, and -this piano seems to be in sufficiently good condition for me to go about -my business." -</p> -<p> -"In good condition!" she replied with unmistakable irritation. "You have -put it in such good condition that I am afraid I can never play on it as -long as I live. I am very angry about it. You undertook to tune it; you -must do it, Signor Lelio, for your own reputation." -</p> -<p> -"Signora," I replied, "I care no more about tuning this piano than you -do about playing on it. I obeyed your command to return, in order not to -compromise you by putting an end to this pretence too suddenly. But your -ladyship must understand that the jest cannot be prolonged forever; that -by the third day it ceases to be amusing except to you, and that on the -fourth it would be a little dangerous to me. I am neither so wealthy nor -so renowned that I can afford to waste time. Will not your ladyship -allow me to retire in a few moments; then a genuine tuner will come this -afternoon and finish my work, saying that I am ill and have sent him in -my place. I can find a substitute who will be grateful to me for -providing him with a new customer, all without betraying our little -secret, and without making myself known." -</p> -<p> -The signora did not say a word in reply; but she turned as pale as -death, and again I felt that I was beaten. The cousin returned. I could -not restrain a gesture of annoyance. The signora noticed it, and again -she triumphed; and again, seeing that I did not propose to go, she -amused herself by playing upon my inward agitation. -</p> -<p> -She became very rosy and animated once more. She plied her cousin with -cajoleries which were so close to the line between affection and irony -that soon neither he nor I knew what to think. Then she suddenly turned -her back on him, and, coming to my side, requested me, in a low tone and -with a mysterious air, to keep the piano a quarter of a tone below the -pitch, because she had a contralto voice. Whom was she trying to impose -upon—her cousin or myself—by telling me that great secret as if it -were a matter of such importance? I was on the point of going up to -Hector and shaking hands with him, for we seemed to me to cut an equally -foolish and laughable figure. But I saw that the excellent youth -attached more importance to the matter than I did, and he cast a -sidelong glance at me with such a profound and crafty expression, that I -had much difficulty in refraining from laughter. I answered La Grimani, -under my breath and with a still more confidential air: -</p> -<p> -"I have anticipated your wishes, signora, and the piano is just in tune -with the orchestra at San Carlo, where they lowered the pitch last -season because of my cold." -</p> -<p> -Thereupon, the signora took her cousin's arm with a theatrical gesture, -and hurriedly led him into the garden. As they walked back and forth in -front of the house, and I could see their shadows on the curtain, I took -my stand behind the curtain and listened to their conversation. -</p> -<p> -"That is exactly what I wanted to say to you, my dear cousin," the -signora was saying. "This man has a strange, terrifying face; he has no -idea what a piano is, and he will never finish tuning it. You will see! -He is a mere adventurer, mark my words. We must keep our eyes on him, -and do you hold your watch in your hand when he comes near you. I would -take my oath that when I leaned over the piano, unsuspectingly, to tell -him to lower the pitch, he put out his hand to steal my gold chain." -</p> -<p> -"Nonsense! you are joking, cousin! It is impossible that a thief should -be so bold. That isn't what I want to say to you at all, and you pretend -not to understand me." -</p> -<p> -"I pretend, Hector? You accuse me of pretending? I pretend! Come, tell -me if you really think you are worth the trouble it would give me to -make up a falsehood?" -</p> -<p> -"This severity is quite useless, cousin. It seems at all events that I -am worth the trouble of seeking an opportunity to make humiliating -speeches to me." -</p> -<p> -"But what are you talking about, I would ask, cousin? And why do you say -that this man——" -</p> -<p> -"I say that this man is not a piano-tuner, that he is not tuning your -piano, that he never tuned a piano in his life. I say that he never -takes his eye off you, that he watches your every movement, that he -breathes in every word you speak. I say that he must have seen you -somewhere, at Naples or Florence, at the theatre or driving, and that he -fell in love with you." -</p> -<p> -"And gained admittance here, <i>in disguise</i>, to see me, and perhaps to -seduce me, the scoundrel, the villain!" -</p> -<p> -Having said thus much with great vehemence, the signora threw herself -back on a bench, laughing uproariously. As I saw the cousin stalking -toward the door of the salon, apparently in a furious passion, I -returned to my post, and, arming myself with my tuning hammer, resolved -to strike him down with it if he should attempt to insult me; for I had -already set him down as one of the men who arrange matters so as to -avoid fighting, and who call their servants when one challenges them -within hearing of the antechamber. -</p> -<p> -"He will fall dead before he pulls that bell-rope," I thought, as I -grasped the hammer and cast a rapid glance about me. But my adventure -did not long retain this dramatic aspect. I saw the signora and her -cousin, arm-in-arm once more, walking on the terrace, and pausing from -time to time at the half-open glass door to look at me, she with a -mocking, he with an embarrassed air. I no longer knew what they were -saying to each other, and my wrath rose higher and higher in my throat. -</p> -<p> -Suddenly a pretty soubrette joined them on the terrace. The signora -spoke to her with much animation, now laughing, now assuming an -imperious tone. The soubrette seemed to hesitate; the cousin seemed to -be urging the signora to do nothing extravagant. At last the maid came -to me in some confusion, and said, blushing to the roots of her hair: -</p> -<p> -"Signor, the signora bids me say to you, in so many words, that you are -an insolent person, and that you would do much better to tune the piano -than to stare at her as you are doing. Pardon me, signor. I am very sure -that it is a jest." -</p> -<p> -"And I take it as such," I replied; "but say to the signora that I -present my profound respects to her, and that I beg her not to think me -insolent enough to stare at her. I was not so much as thinking of her, -and if I must tell you the truth, it was you, my lovely maid, whom I saw -out in the field, and who engrossed me so that I forgot to go on with my -work." -</p> -<p> -"I, signor," said the soubrette, blushing more hotly than ever, and -hanging her head in her embarrassment. "How could I engross the signor?" -</p> -<p> -"Because you are a hundred times prettier than your mistress," I said, -putting my arm about her and giving her a kiss before she had time to -suspect my purpose. -</p> -<p> -She was a pretty village girl, the signora's foster sister. She too was -dark and tall and slender, but timid in her manner, and as artless and -gentle in her bearing as her young mistress was cunning and determined. -She was thrown into such confusion by being embraced so unceremoniously -before the signora, who had come to the door of the salon, followed by -her idiotic cousin, that she fled, hiding her face in her blue apron -with silver border. The signora, who was equally surprised to find that -I took her impertinence so philosophically, stepped back, and the -cousin, who had seen nothing, repeated several times the question: "What -is it? What's the matter?" -</p> -<p> -The poor girl would not pause in her flight to reply, and the signora -laughed a forced laugh which I pretended not to notice. -</p> -<p> -A few moments later she reappeared alone. Her face wore an expression -which was meant to be severe, but was really confused and distressed. -</p> -<p> -"It is lucky for us both, signor," she said in a voice that trembled -slightly, "that my cousin is simple-minded and gullible; for you must -know that he is of a jealous and quarrelsome disposition." -</p> -<p> -"Really, signora?" I replied, gravely. -</p> -<p> -"Do not laugh at me, signor," she retorted angrily. "One may be easily -deceived when one loves; but the name of Grimani stands for personal -courage." -</p> -<p> -"I do not doubt it, signora," I replied in the same tone. -</p> -<p> -"I beg you, therefore, signor," she continued, still speaking with -involuntary vehemence, "not to come here again; for all this jesting -might end badly." -</p> -<p> -"That is as you please, signora," I replied, as imperturbably as before. -</p> -<p> -"It is evident, however, signor, that you find it very amusing; for you -do not seem disposed to put an end to it." -</p> -<p> -"If I amuse myself, signora, it is by way of being obedient, as we all -amuse ourselves in Italy under the reign of Napoleon the Great. I wished -to retire an hour ago, and it was you who forbade it." -</p> -<p> -"I forbade it? Do you dare to say that I forbade it?" -</p> -<p> -"I intended to say, signora, that you did not think of it; for I -expected that you would give me some sort of a plausible pretext for -taking my leave in the midst of my task; and, for my own part, it was -impossible for me to imagine such a pretext. It would be so entirely -unnatural in the present condition of the piano, and I am so firmly -resolved to do nothing that can possibly compromise you, that I will -return to-morrow." -</p> -<p> -"You will do nothing of the kind." -</p> -<p> -"I beg your ladyship's pardon, I will return to-morrow." -</p> -<p> -"For what purpose, signor? And by what right?" -</p> -<p> -"I will return to gratify Signor Ettore's curiosity, for he is very much -puzzled to know who I am; and I will return because you have yourself -given me the right to face the man with whom you were pleased to make -merry at my expense." -</p> -<p> -"Is that a threat, Signor Lelio?" she asked, concealing her fright -beneath the cloak of pride. -</p> -<p> -"No, signora. A man who does not falter before another man is not of the -threatening sort." -</p> -<p> -"But my cousin said nothing to you, signor; I did all this jesting -against his will." -</p> -<p> -"But he is jealous and quarrelsome. Moreover, he is brave. Now, I am not -jealous, signora, I have neither the right nor the desire to be. But I -am quarrelsome, and it may be too that, although my name is not Grimani, -I am a brave man; what do you know about it?" -</p> -<p> -"Oh! I have no doubt of it, Lelio!" she cried, in a tone that made me -quiver from head to foot, it was so entirely different from what I had -been hearing for two or three days. -</p> -<p> -I looked at her in amazement; she lowered her eyes with an air at once -modest and proud. Once again I was disarmed. -</p> -<p> -"Signora," I said, "I will do whatever you choose, as you choose, and -nothing that you do not choose." -</p> -<p> -She hesitated a moment. -</p> -<p> -"You cannot come again as a piano-tuner," said she; "if you do, you will -compromise me, for my cousin will certainly tell my aunt that he -suspects you of being a libertine in search of adventures; and, when my -aunt hears it, she will tell my mother. And let me tell you Signor -Lelio, that there is only one person in the world for whom I care in the -least, and that is my mother; that there is only one thing in the world -that I dread, and that is my mother's displeasure. And yet she brought -me up very badly, as you see; she spoiled me shockingly; but she is so -dear, so sweet, so loving, so sad—She loves me so dearly—if you only -knew!" -</p> -<p> -A great tear glistened in the signora's black eye; she tried for some -time to hold it back, but at last it fell on her hand. Deeply moved, -assailed and overthrown by the formidable little god with whom one -cannot afford to trifle, I put my lips to that lovely hand and greedily -drank that sweet tear, a subtle poison which kindled a flame in my -bosom. I heard the cousin returning, and, rising hurriedly, I said: -</p> -<p> -"<i>Addio</i>, signora, I will obey you blindly, I swear upon my honor; if -your cousin insults me, I will swallow his insults; I will play a -coward's part rather than cause you to shed a second tear." -</p> -<p> -With that I bowed to the ground and left the room. The cousin did not -seem to me so bellicose as she had depicted him; for he saluted me first -when I passed him. I walked slowly from the house, depressed beyond -words; for I was in love, and I must not return. On becoming sincere, my -love became generous. -</p> -<p> -I turned several times to catch a glimpse of the signora's velvet dress, -but she had disappeared. As I was passing through the gate of the park, -I saw her in a narrow path which followed the wall on the inside. She -had run, in order to reach that point as soon as I did, and when I spied -her she strove to assume a slow and pensive gait; but she was all out of -breath and her lovely black hair was disarranged by the branches she had -hurriedly thrust aside as she ran through the underbrush. I started to -join her, but she made a sign to indicate that somebody was following -her. I tried to pass through the gate, but I could not make up my mind -to do it. Thereupon, she waved her hand to bid me farewell, accompanying -the gesture with an unutterable glance and smile. At that moment she was -more beautiful than I had ever seen her. -</p> -<p> -I placed one hand on my heart, the other on my forehead, and hurried -away, mad with joy and love. I had seen the branches moving just behind -the signora; but, there as elsewhere, the cousin arrived too late. I had -disappeared. -</p> -<p> -I found in my room a letter from Checchina. "I had started to join you," -she wrote, "and to rest a while from the fatigues of the stage in the -pleasant shade of Cafaggiolo. I was upset at San Giovanni; I have -nothing worse than a few bruises, but my carriage is broken. The -bungling workmen in this village say they must have three days to repair -it. Take your calèche and come and fetch me, unless you wish me to die -of ennui in this muleteers' tavern." -</p> -<p> -I set out an hour later and reached San Giovanni at daybreak. -</p> -<p> -"How does it happen that you are alone?" I asked, trying to escape from -her long arms and her sisterly embraces, which had become unendurable to -me since my illness, because of the perfumes with which she saturated -herself beyond all reason, whether because she fancied that she was -imitating the great ladies, or because she loved passionately anything -that appeals to the senses. -</p> -<p> -"I have had a row with Nasi," she said; "I have left him, and I don't -want to hear any more about him!" -</p> -<p> -"It can't be very serious," I replied, "as you are on your way to take -up your quarters in his house." -</p> -<p> -"On the contrary, it is very serious; for I have forbidden him to follow -me." -</p> -<p> -"And apparently you intended to deprive him of the means of doing so, -when you took his carriage to run away in, and broke it on the road." -</p> -<p> -"It's his own fault, for I had to keep urging the postilions. Why has he -adopted the bad habit of following me? I would have liked to be killed -by the accident, and have him arrive in time to see me die, and to learn -what it is to thwart a woman like me." -</p> -<p> -"That is to say, a mad woman. But you will not have the pleasure of -dying for revenge, in the first place, because you are not hurt, and -secondly, because he has not run after you." -</p> -<p> -"Oh! he probably passed through here last night without suspecting that -I was here, and you must have met him on your way. We will go and join -him at Cafaggiolo." -</p> -<p> -"He is just crazy enough for that." -</p> -<p> -"If I were perfectly sure of it, I would like to remain here in hiding a -week, just to worry him and make him think that I have gone to France, -as I threatened to do." -</p> -<p> -"As you please, my dear: I salute you and leave my carriage at your -service. For my own part, I have little liking for this region and this -inn." -</p> -<p> -"If you were not a dolt, you would avenge me, Lelio!" -</p> -<p> -"Thanks! I have not been insulted; nor you either, I fancy." -</p> -<p> -"Oh! I have been mortally insulted, Lelio!" -</p> -<p> -"I suppose he refused to give you twenty thousand francs' worth of white -gloves, and insisted on giving you diamonds worth fifty thousand -instead; something like that, no doubt?" -</p> -<p> -"No, no, Lelio; he wants to marry!" -</p> -<p> -"Provided that he doesn't want to marry you, that is a most pardonable -desire." -</p> -<p> -"And the most horrible part of it is that he had an idea that he could -induce me to consent to his marriage and still retain my good graces. -After such an insult, would you believe that he had the audacity to -offer me a million, on condition that I would allow him to marry, and -that I would remain faithful to him!" -</p> -<p> -"A million! the devil! that is at least the fortieth million I have -known of you refusing, my poor Checchina. The millions you have spurned -would be enough to keep the whole royal family!" -</p> -<p> -"You are always joking, Lelio. The day will come when you will see that, -if I had chosen, I might have been a queen like some other women. Are -Napoleon's sisters any more beautiful than I am? Have they more talent, -more wit, more spirit? Ah! how well I could manage a kingdom!" -</p> -<p> -"Almost as well as you could keep books by double entry in a business -house. Upon my word! you have put on your wrapper wrong side before, and -you are wiping tears from your lovely eyes with one of your silk -stockings. Put aside these ambitious dreams for a moment, dress -yourself, and let us be off." -</p> -<p> -As we returned to the villa at Cafaggiolo, by dint of allowing my -travelling companion to give a free rein to her heroic declamations, her -digressions and her boasting, I succeeded, not without difficulty, in -finding out that honest Nasi had been fascinated at a ball by a lovely -young person, and had asked her hand in marriage; that he had gone to -Checchina to inform her of his determination; that, as she had adopted -the expedient of fainting and going into convulsions, he had been so -dismayed by the violence of her despair, that he had begged her to -consent to a middle course and to remain his mistress in spite of his -marriage. Thereupon Checchina, seeing that he was weakening, had -haughtily refused to share her lover's heart and purse. She had ordered -post-horses, and had signed, or pretended to sign, an engagement with -the Opera at Paris. The easy-going Nasi had been unable to endure the -thought of giving up a woman whom he was not sure that he had ceased to -adore, for a woman whom he was not sure that he had begun to adore. He -had begged the singer's forgiveness; he had retracted his offer of -marriage, and had ceased his attentions to the illustrious beauty, whose -name Checchina did not know. Checchina had allowed herself to be -prevailed upon; but she had learned indirectly, on the day following -this great sacrifice, that Nasi was entitled to no great credit -therefor, inasmuch as, between the scene of frenzied despair and the -reconciliation, his offer of marriage had been rejected, and he had been -cast aside in favor of a happy rival. Checchina, wounded to the quick, -had left Naples, leaving a withering letter for the count, in which she -declared that she would never see him again; and, taking the road to -France—for all roads lead to Paris as well as to Rome—she -hastened to Cafaggiolo to wait until her lover should come in pursuit of -her, and place his body across her path to prevent her from proceeding -farther with a vengeance of which she was beginning to be a little weary. -</p> -<p> -All this was not mere vulgar and avaricious scheming on Checchina's -part. She loved opulence, it is true, and could not do without it; but -she had such implicit faith in her destiny, and was naturally so -audacious, that she constantly risked the good fortune of one day for -that of the morrow. She passed the Rubicon every morning, confident of -finding on the other bank a more flourishing realm than the one she left -behind. Thus there was nothing base and low-minded in this feminine -trickery, because there was in it no element of fear. She did not play -at grief; she made neither false promises nor hypocritical prayers. In -her moments of vexation she had genuine paroxysms of nervous excitement. -Why were her lovers so credulous as to mistake the vehemence of her -anger for the result of profound grief resisted by pride? Is it not our -own fault when we are duped by our own vanity? -</p> -<p> -Moreover, even if Checchina did play a bit at tragedy in her boudoir, in -order to preserve her empire, she had an ample excuse in the absolute -sincerity of her conduct. I have never known a woman more fearlessly -frank, more faithful to lovers who were faithful to her, more reckless -in her admissions when she revenged herself in kind, more incapable of -recovering her power by means of a falsehood. To be sure her love was -not strong enough for that, and no man seemed to her to be worth the -trouble of putting constraint upon herself and of humiliating herself in -her own eyes by prolonged dissembling. I have often thought that women -are very foolish to demand so much frankness when we are so far from -appreciating the merit of fidelity, I have often learned by my own -experience that one must have more passion to carry out a falsehood, -than courage to tell the truth. It is so easy to be sincere with persons -one does not love! It is so pleasant to be sincere with those whom one -has ceased to love! -</p> -<p> -This simple reflection will explain why it was impossible for me to love -Checchina for long, and also why it was impossible for me not to esteem -her always, despite her insolent outbreaks and her immeasurable -ambition. I soon found out that she was a detestable mistress and an -excellent friend; and then, too, there was a sort of poetic charm in -that adventuress-like energy, in that disregard for wealth inspired by -the very love of wealth, in that incredible conceit, always crowned by -even more incredible success. She was forever comparing herself -favorably to Napoleon's sisters, and making herself out the equal of -Napoleon himself. That was amusing and not too ridiculous. In her own -sphere she was as bold and as fortunate as the great conqueror. She -never had for lovers any but young, handsome, rich and honorable men; -and I do not believe that a single one of them ever complained of her -after leaving or losing her; for in reality she had a great and noble -heart. She could always atone for a thousand foolish and mischievous -exploits by one decisive display of strength of character and kindness -of heart. In a word, she was brave, both morally and physically, and -people of that temperament are always good for something, wherever they -may be and whatever they may do. -</p> -<p> -"My poor child," I said to her as we drove along, "you will be nicely -caught if Nasi takes you at your word and lets you start for France." -</p> -<p> -"There's no danger of that," she said with a smile, forgetting that she -had just told me that she would not for anything in the world allow -herself to be softened by his submission. -</p> -<p> -"But suppose that does happen, what will you do? You have nothing in the -world, and you are not in the habit of keeping the gifts of your lovers -when you part. That is what makes me esteem you a little bit, despite -all your faults. Come, tell me, what is going to become of you?" -</p> -<p> -"I shall be very sorry," she replied; "yes, really, Lelio, I shall -regret it; for Nasi is an excellent fellow, he has a big heart. I will -bet that I shall weep for—I don't know how long! But after all, one -either has a destiny or one hasn't. If it is God's will that I go to -France, it would seem to be because I am likely to have no more luck in -Italy. If I am parted from that dear, affectionate lover of mine, I have -no doubt that it is because a more devoted and more courageous man is -waiting yonder for me, to marry me, and prove to the world that love is -superior to all prejudices. Mark my words, Lelio, I shall be a princess, -perhaps a queen. An old fortune-teller of Malamocco predicted it in my -horoscope when I was only four years old, and I have always believed it: -a proof that it must be so!" -</p> -<p> -"A conclusive proof," I rejoined, "an unanswerable argument! Queen of -Barataria, I salute you!" -</p> -<p> -"What is Barataria? Is it Cimarosa's new opera?" -</p> -<p> -"No, it is the name of the star that presides over your destiny." -</p> -<p> -We arrived at Cafaggiolo and did not find Nasi there. -</p> -<p> -"Your star is waning, fortune is abandoning you," I said to the girl -from Chioggia. -</p> -<p> -She bit her lips and replied at once, with a smile: -</p> -<p> -"There is always a mist on the lagoons before sunrise. In any event we -must keep up our strength and so be prepared for the blows of destiny." -</p> -<p> -As she spoke, she took her seat at the table and ate almost the whole of -a pope's eye stuffed with truffles; after which she slept twelve hours -without a break, passed three hours at her toilet, and sparkled with wit -and nonsense until evening. Nasi did not appear. -</p> -<p> -For my own part, amid the merriment and animation which that excellent -girl had brought into my solitude, I was absorbed by the memory of my -adventure at the Grimani villa, and tortured by the longing to see my -fair patrician once more. But how was I to do it? I cudgelled my brain -to no purpose to invent some means which would not compromise her. When -I left her I had sworn to do nothing imprudent. As I reviewed in my mind -my impressions of those last moments, when she had appeared in such an -artless and touching aspect, I felt that I could not act inconsiderately -with respect to her without forfeiting my own esteem. I dared not make -inquiries concerning her friends, still less concerning her domestic -arrangements. I had refrained from making acquaintances in the -neighborhood, and now I almost regretted that I had done so; for I might -have learned by accident what I dared not ask directly. The servant who -waited upon me was a Neapolitan who had come with me, and, like myself, -had never been in that region before. The gardener was stupid and deaf. -An old care-taker, in charge of the villa since Nasi's childhood, might -perhaps have enlightened me; but I was afraid to question her, for she -was inquisitive and loquacious. She was much disturbed to know where I -went; and, during the three days that I had failed to bring her any game -or to give an account of my rambles, she was so wrought up that I -trembled lest she should discover my romance. The bare mention of a name -might put her on the track. So I was very careful not to pronounce it. I -did not wish to go to Florence; I was too well known there; if I showed -my face there, I was certain to be overwhelmed with visits. The -unhealthy and misanthropical frame of mind which had caused me to seek -the solitude of Cafaggiolo, had led me likewise to conceal my name and -profession from the very servants in the house as well as from the -neighbors. It was necessary now for me to guard my <i>incognito</i> more -closely than ever; for I supposed that the count would soon arrive, and -that his fancy for marriage would lead him to desire to bury in mystery -Checchina's presence in his house. -</p> -<p> -Two days passed with no word from Nasi, who might have enlightened me; -and I had not ventured to take a step out-of-doors. Checchina had a -heavy cold and considerable pain, as a result of the mishaps of her -journey. It may well be that, as she did not quite know what course to -adopt with me, and as she preferred not to seem to be waiting for her -faithless lover, after swearing that she would not wait for him, she was -not sorry to have a valid excuse for remaining at Cafaggiolo. -</p> -<p> -One morning, finding that I could not stand it any longer, for that -signorina of fifteen with her little white hands and great black eyes -was always in my head, I took my game-bag, called my dog, and started -out to hunt, forgetting nothing but my rifle. In vain did I prowl about -the Grimani villa; I did not see a living being, I did not hear a human -sound. All the gates of the park were locked, and I noticed that on the -main avenue, at the end of which one could catch a glimpse of the -house-front, some large trees had been felled and their dense foliage -completely intercepted the view. Had that barricade been erected with -premeditation? Was it an act of revenge on the cousin's part? Was it a -precaution taken by the aunt? Was it a mischievous exploit of my heroine -herself? "If I thought that!" I said to myself. But I did not think it. -I much preferred to suppose that she was lamenting over my absence and -her own captivity, and I formed innumerable plans to set her free, each -more absurd than the last. -</p> -<p> -On returning to Cafaggiolo, I found in Checchina's bedroom a pretty -village maiden whom I at once recognized as La Grimani's foster sister. -</p> -<p> -"Here's a lovely child who refuses to give her message to anybody but -you, Lelio," said Checchina, who had seated her unceremoniously on the -side of her bed. "I have taken her under my protection because old -Catalina insisted on sending her away with an insolent answer. But I saw -by her modest manner that she is a good girl, and I haven't asked her -any injudicious questions. Isn't that true, my pretty brunette? Come, -don't be shamefaced, but go into the salon with Signor Lelio. I am not -inquisitive, I tell you; I have something else to do besides annoy my -friends." -</p> -<p> -"Come, my dear child," I said to the soubrette, "and have no fear; you -have only honorable people to deal with here." -</p> -<p> -The poor girl stood in the middle of the floor, bewildered, and in such -distress that it made one's heart ache. Although she had had the courage -to conceal the object of her visit up to that time, she took from her -pocket, in her confusion, and half revealed a note which she instantly -thrust out of sight again, distracted between her fears for her own -honor and for her mistress's. -</p> -<p> -"Oh dear!" she said at last in a trembling voice, "suppose the signora -should think that I came here with any evil intention!" -</p> -<p> -"My poor child, I think nothing at all," replied kind-hearted Checchina, -opening a book and reading it with eye-glasses, although her sight was -excellent; for she thought that it was good form to have weak eyes. -</p> -<p> -"The signora is so kind and received me with so much confidence," -continued the girl. -</p> -<p> -"Your appearance must inspire confidence in everybody," replied the -singer, "and if I am kind to you, it is because you deserve it. Come, -come; I am not inquisitive, I tell you; say what you have to say to -Signor Lelio, it will not vex me in the slightest degree. Come, take her -away, Lelio! Poor child! she thinks she is ruined. Nonsense, my dear, -actors are just as honorable as other people, be sure of that." -</p> -<p> -The girl made a low courtesy and followed me into the salon. Her heart -was beating as if it would break the lacings of her green velvet waist, -and her cheeks were as scarlet as her skirt. She hastily took the letter -from her pocket and, after handing it to me, stepped back, she was so -afraid that I would be as rude to her as I was before. I reassured her -by the tranquillity of my demeanor, and asked her if she had anything -more to say to me. -</p> -<p> -"I am to wait for the answer," she replied, with an air of the most -profound distress. -</p> -<p> -"Very well," said I, "go and wait in the signora's apartment." -</p> -<p> -And I escorted her back to Checchina. -</p> -<p> -"This excellent girl," I explained, "wishes to enter the services of a -lady in Florence whom I know very well, and she has come to me for a -letter of recommendation. Will you allow her to stay with you while I go -and write it?" -</p> -<p> -"Yes, yes, to be sure!" replied Checchina, motioning her to sit down, -and smiling at her with an amiable and patronizing air. This sweetness -and simplicity of manner toward persons of her former station in life -were among the Chioggian's excellent qualities. While she mimicked the -affectations of the great lady, she retained the brusque and ingenuous -kindliness of the fisherman's child. Her manners, though often -ridiculous, were always affable; and if she did enjoy lying in state -under a satin coverlet trimmed with lace, for the benefit of that poor -village girl, she found none the less, in her heart and on her lips, -affectionate words to encourage her in her humility. -</p> -<p> -The signora's letter was in these words: -</p> -<p> -"Three days without coming again! Either you have little wit, or you -have little desire to see me again. Is it for me to find a way of -continuing our friendly relations? If you have not tried to find one, -you are a fool; if you have tried and failed, you are what you accuse me -of being. To prove that I am neither <i>haughty</i> nor <i>stupid</i>, I -write to make an appointment with you. To-morrow, Sunday, morning I -shall be at eight o'clock mass, at <i>Santa Maria del Sasso</i>, -Florence. My aunt is ill; only Lila, my foster sister, will accompany -me. If the footman or coachman notice you or question you, give them -money; they are rascals. <i>Addio</i>, until to-morrow." -</p> -<p> -To reply, to promise, to swear, to express my thanks, and to hand to -Lila the most bombastic of love-letters, was an affair of a few moments -only. But when I attempted to slip a gold piece into the messenger's -hand, I was checked by a glance instinct with melancholy dignity. From -pure devotion to her mistress she had yielded to her caprice; but it was -evident that her conscience reproached her for that weakness, and that -to offer to pay her for it would have been to punish and mortify her -cruelly. At that moment I reproached myself bitterly for the kiss I had -ventured to steal from her, in order to pique her mistress, and I tried -to atone for my fault by escorting her to the end of the garden with as -much respect and courtesy as I could have shown to any great lady. -</p> -<p> -I was very nervous all the rest of the day. Checchina noticed my -preoccupation. -</p> -<p> -"Come, Lelio," she said, toward the close of the supper which we ate -together on a pretty little terrace shaded by grape-vines and jasmine; -"I see that you are worried about something; why not open your heart to -me? Did I ever betray a secret? Am I not worthy of your confidence? Have -I deserved to have you withdraw it from me?" -</p> -<p> -"No, my dear Checchina," I replied, "I appreciate your -discretion"—and it is certain that she would have kept Brutus's -secrets as well as ever Portia did;—"but," I added, "even if all -my secrets belong to you, there are others——" -</p> -<p> -"I know what you are going to say," she exclaimed. "That there are -others which don't belong to you alone, and which you have no right to -betray; but if I guess them in spite of you, ought you to carry your -scruples so far as to deny, all to no purpose, what I know as well as -you do? You know, my friend, I understand that pretty girl's call -perfectly well; I saw her hand in her pocket, and before she had said -good-morning to me, I knew that she had brought a letter. The timid and -distressed air of that poor Iris"—Checchina had been very fond of -mythological references ever since she had spelled out Tasso's -<i>Aminta</i> and Guarini's <i>Adone</i>—"told me plainly enough -that there was a genuine romance behind it, a great lady afraid of -public opinion, or a young damsel risking her future union with some -worthy citizen. One thing is certain, that you have made one of those -conquests of which you men are so proud, because they are supposed to be -difficult and require a lot of mystery. You see that I have guessed the -secret, don't you?" -</p> -<p> -I answered with a smile. -</p> -<p> -"I won't ask you any more questions," she continued; "I know that you -are not likely to confide the person's name, nor her rank, nor her place -of abode to me; indeed, those things don't interest me. But I may ask -you whether you are in raptures or in despair, and you must tell me if I -can be of any use to you." -</p> -<p> -"If I need you, I will tell you so," I replied; "and as for telling you -whether I am in raptures or in despair, I can assure you that I am in -neither as yet." -</p> -<p> -"Very good! very good! beware of one no less than of the other; for, in -either case, there's no occasion for such great excitement." -</p> -<p> -"What do you know about it?" -</p> -<p> -"My dear Lelio," she replied in a sententious tone, "let us suppose that -you are in raptures. What is one yielding woman more or less in the life -of a man of the stage: of the stage, where the women are so beautiful -and so sparkling with wit? Do you propose to lose your head over a -conquest in aristocratic society? Vanity! mere vanity! Society women are -as inferior to us in every respect as vanity is to glory." -</p> -<p> -"That is true modesty, and I congratulate you," I replied; "but might we -not give the aphorism another turn, and say that it is vanity, not love, -which brings society men to the feet of actresses?" -</p> -<p> -"Oh! but what a difference there is!" cried Checchina. "A great and -beautiful actress is a creature privileged by nature and exalted by the -prestige of art; exposed to the eyes of men in all the splendor of her -beauty, her talent and her renown, is it not natural that she should -arouse admiration and kindle desire? Why, then, should you actors, who -triumph over the great majority of us before the great nobles do; you, -who marry us when we are inclined to settle down, and who assert your -rights over us when we have passionate hearts; you, who allow others to -play the rôle of magnificent lovers and who are always the preferred -lovers, or at all events the friends of our hearts—why should you -turn your thoughts toward these patrician women who smile at you with their -lips only, and applaud you with the tips of their fingers? Ah! Lelio, -Lelio! I am afraid that in this instance your good sense has gone astray -in some idiotic adventure. If I were in your place, rather than be -flattered by the ogling of some middle-aged marchioness, I would turn my -attention to some pretty chorus-girl, La Torquata, or La Gargani. Yes! -yes!" she cried, becoming more earnest as she saw me smiling; "such -girls as those are apparently more forward, but I maintain that they are -in reality less corrupt than your salon Cidalisas. You would not be -obliged to play a long sentimental comedy with them, or engage in a -wretched contest of bright sayings. But that's just like you men! The -crest on a carriage, the livery of a footman, those are enough to -embellish in your eyes the first titled harridan who bestows a -patronizing glance on you." -</p> -<p> -"My dear friend," I replied, "all that you say is most sensible; but -your argument is weak in that it is not based upon a single fact. For my -honor's sake, you might, I think, have assumed that old age and ugliness -are not indispensable qualities in any patrician who falls in love with -me. There have been some who were young and lovely who have had eyes in -their heads, and since you compel me to say absurd things in absurd -language, in order to close your mouth, let me tell you that the object -of my <i>flame</i> is fifteen years old, and that she is as beautiful as -the goddess <i>Cypris</i> whose exploits you learn by heart in -<i>bouts-rimés</i>." -</p> -<p> -"Lelio!" cried Checchina, laughing heartily, "you are the most -insufferable coxcomb that I ever met." -</p> -<p> -"If I am a coxcomb, fair princess," I cried, "you are somewhat to blame -for it, so people say." -</p> -<p> -"Very well," said she, "if you are telling the truth, if your mistress, -by reason of her beauty, deserves the follies you are about to commit -for her, beware of one thing, and that is that you do not find yourself -in the depths of despair within a week." -</p> -<p> -"What in the deuce is the matter to-day, Signora Checchina, that you say -such disagreeable things to me?" -</p> -<p> -"Let us not joke any more," she said, putting her hand on mine with a -friendly gesture. "I know you better than you know yourself. You are -seriously in love, and you are going to suffer—" -</p> -<p> -"Nonsense, nonsense! in your old age, Checca, you can retire to -Malamocco and tell fortunes for the boatmen on the lagoons; meanwhile, -my fair sorceress, allow me to go to meet my fortune without cowardly -presentiments." -</p> -<p> -"No! no! I will not be quiet until I have drawn your horoscope. If it -were a question of a woman who is suited to you, I should not think of -vexing you; but a woman of noble birth, a society woman, a marchioness -or a woman of the middle class, I don't care which it may be—I hate -them all! When I see that idiot Nasi throw me aside for a creature who -doesn't come up to my knees, I will stake my head, why, I say to myself -that all men are vain and foolish. And so I predict that you will not be -loved, because a society woman cannot love an actor; and if by any -chance you are loved, you will be all the more miserable; for you will -be humiliated." -</p> -<p> -"Humiliated! What do you mean by that, Checchina?" -</p> -<p> -"By what do you recognize love, Lelio? by the pleasure you give or the -pleasure you receive?" -</p> -<p> -"By both, of course! What are you driving at?" -</p> -<p> -"Is it not the same with devotion as with pleasure? Must it not be -mutual?" -</p> -<p> -"To be sure; what then?" -</p> -<p> -"How much devotion do you expect to find in your mistress? a few nights -of pleasure? You seem at a loss to reply." -</p> -<p> -"I am, in truth; I told you that she is fifteen years old, and I am an -honorable man." -</p> -<p> -"Do you hope to marry her?" -</p> -<p> -"I, marry a rich girl of a noble family? God forbid! In heaven's name, -do you think that I am consumed with matrimoniomania, as you are?" -</p> -<p> -"Why, I suppose that you desire to marry her; do you think that she will -consent? are you sure of it?" -</p> -<p> -"But I will tell you that I wouldn't marry anyone, on any -consideration." -</p> -<p> -"If that is because your suit would be ill received, your rôle is a -very pitiful one, my dear Lelio!" -</p> -<p> -"<i>Corpo di Bacco</i>! you bore me, Checchina!" -</p> -<p> -"That is my purpose, dear friend of my heart. Now, then, you do not -think of marrying, because that would be impertinent presumption on your -part, and you are a man of spirit. You do not think of seduction, -because that would be a crime, and you are a man of heart. Tell me, is -your romance likely to be very amusing?" -</p> -<p> -"Why, you dense, matter-of-fact creature, you know nothing whatever -about sentiment. If I choose to indulge in a pastoral idyll, who will -prevent me?" -</p> -<p> -"That is very pretty in music; in love it must be decidedly dull." -</p> -<p> -"But it is neither criminal nor humiliating." -</p> -<p> -"Then why are you so excited? Why are you so sad, Lelio?" -</p> -<p> -"You are dreaming, Checchina; I am as placid and light-hearted as usual. -Let us have no more of these empty words; I do not ask you to be silent -about the little I have told you, for I have confidence in you. To -reassure you concerning my frame of mind, let me tell you this one -thing: I am more proud of my profession of actor than ever nobleman was -of his marquisate. Nobody on earth has the power to make me blush. -Whatever you may say, I shall never be conceited enough to aspire to -extraordinary devotion, and if a spark of love warms my heart at this -moment, the modest joy of inspiring a little love is sufficient for me. -I do not deny the numerous superiorities of actresses over society -women. There is more beauty, grace, wit and fire in the wings than -elsewhere, I know. There is no more modesty, unselfishness, chastity and -loyalty among great ladies than elsewhere; that, too, I know. But youth -and beauty are idols which make us bend the knee everywhere; and as for -the prejudices of rank, it is a good deal for a woman brought up under -tyrannical laws to bestow in secret one poor glance, one poor -heart-throb upon a man whom her prejudices forbid her to look upon as a -being of her own species. That poor glance, that poor palpitation, would -be a mere trifle to the unbounded desire born of a great passion; but as -I have told you, cousin, I have not got to that point." -</p> -<p> -"But how do you know that you won't come to it?" -</p> -<p> -"When I do, it will be time enough to preach to me." -</p> -<p> -"It will be too late; you will suffer!" -</p> -<p> -"Ah! Cassandra, I prithee let me love on!" -</p> -<p> -At seven o'clock the next morning I was wandering slowly about in the -shadow of the pillars of Santa Maria. That assignation was the very -greatest piece of imprudence that my young signora could commit, for my -face was as well known to most of the people of Florence as the ground -under their horses' feet. So I took the most minute precautions, -entering the city by the uncertain light of dawn, keeping out of sight -in the chapels, with my face buried in my cloak, gliding along -noiselessly, taking care not to disturb by the slightest sound the -faithful at prayer, among whom I tried to discover the lady of my -thoughts. I did not wait long; pretty Lila appeared from behind a -pillar, and indicated by her glance an empty confessional, whose -mysterious recess would hold two people. In the girl's quick and -intelligent glance there was a touch of sadness which went to my heart. -I knelt in the confessional, a few moments later, a dark shadow glided -in and knelt beside me. Lila bent over a chair, between us and the -congregation, who, luckily, were engrossed at that moment by the -beginning of the mass, and falling noiselessly on their knees to the -tones of the bell of the <i>introit</i>. -</p> -<p> -The signora was enveloped in a long black veil, and she held it over her -face with her hands for a few seconds. She did not speak to me, but bent -her lovely head as if she had come to the church to pray; but, despite -all her efforts to appear calm, I saw that her breast was heaving, and -that, in the midst of her audacity, she was terror-stricken. I dared not -encourage her with loving words, for I knew how quick she was at -sarcastic repartee, and I could not be sure what tone she would take -with me under those delicate circumstances. I realized simply this, that -the more she exposed herself with me, the more respectful and submissive -my attitude must be. With such a nature as hers, presumption would have -been speedily repelled by scorn. At last I understood that I must break -the silence, and I thanked her awkwardly enough for the favor of that -meeting. My timidity seemed to restore her courage. She softly raised a -corner of her veil, rested her arm with less constraint on the rail of -the confessional, and said to me in a half-mocking, half-melting tone: -</p> -<p> -"For what do you thank me, please?" -</p> -<p> -"For relying upon my obedience, signora," I replied; "for not doubting -the eagerness with which I would come to receive your orders." -</p> -<p> -"I understand then," she retorted—and her tone was altogether -jocular—"that your presence here is an act of pure obedience?" -</p> -<p> -"I should not dare to take the liberty to have any thoughts concerning -the present situation, except that I am your slave, and that, having a -sovereign command to lay upon me, you bade me come and kneel here." -</p> -<p> -"You are a man of the most perfect breeding," she replied, slowly -unfolding her fan in front of her face, and pulling up her black mitt -over her beautifully moulded arm with as much ease of manner as if she -were speaking to her cousin. -</p> -<p> -She continued in that strain, and in a very few moments I was bewildered -and almost saddened by her strange and captious chatter. -</p> -<p> -"What is the use," I said to myself, "of so much audacity for so little -love? An assignation in a church, in plain sight of a whole -congregation, the danger of being discovered, cursed and disowned by her -whole family and her whole caste—all for the sake of exchanging jokes -with me, as she might with a friend of her own sex in her box at the -theatre! Does she delight in adventures from pure love of danger? If she -takes such risks without loving me, what will she do for the man she -does love? And then, how do I know how many times and for whom she has -already exposed herself in the same way? If she has never done it, it is -only because she has never had the opportunity. She is so young! But -what an endless series of gallant adventures the perilous future has in -store for her, and how many men will abuse their opportunities, and how -many stains will mar this lovely flower, so intensely eager to bloom in -the wind of passion!" -</p> -<p> -She noticed my preoccupation, and said to me, in a sharp tone: -</p> -<p> -"You look as if you were bored?" -</p> -<p> -I was about to reply when a slight sound made us both turn our heads -involuntarily. The wooden shutter which covers the grated window through -which the priest receives confessions opened behind us, and a yellow, -wrinkled face, with a stern and penetrating glance, appeared in the -opening like a bad dream. I hastily turned away before that unwelcome -intruder had time to examine my features. But I dared not go away, for -fear of attracting the attention of those roundabout. Thereupon I heard -these words addressed to my confederate: -</p> -<p> -"Signora, the person beside you did not come to the Lord's house to -listen to the sacred service. I have seen by his entire attitude and by -the distraction it has caused you, that the church is being profaned by -an illicit conversation. Order this person to retire or I shall be -compelled to inform the signora, your aunt, with how little fervor you -listen to the blessed mass, and how willingly you open your ears to the -empty words of young men who steal to a place by your side." -</p> -<p> -The shutter was instantly closed, and we remained for some seconds -absolutely motionless, afraid of betraying ourselves by the slightest -movement. Then Lila came nearer to us and whispered to her mistress: -</p> -<p> -"For heaven's sake, let us go, signora! Abbé Cignola, who has been -prowling about the church for a quarter of an hour, just went into the -confessional and came out again almost immediately, after looking at you -through the window, I have no doubt. I am terribly afraid that he -recognized you or heard what you said." -</p> -<p> -"I should think so, for he spoke to me," replied the signora, whose -black eyebrows had contracted during the abbé's harangue, with an -expression of bravado. "But it matters little to me." -</p> -<p> -"I must go, signora," I said, rising; "by remaining another moment, I -shall consummate your ruin. Since you know where I live, you will let me -know your wishes——" -</p> -<p> -"Stay," she said, detaining me by force. "If you go away, I lose my only -means of exculpating myself. Don't be afraid, Lila. Don't say a word, I -forbid you. Give me your arm, cousin," she added, raising her voice -slightly, "and let us go." -</p> -<p> -"Can you think of such a thing, signora? All Florence knows me. You will -never be able to pass me off as your cousin." -</p> -<p> -"But all Florence doesn't know me," she replied, putting her arm through -mine and forcing me to walk with her. "Besides, I am <i>hermetically</i> -veiled, and you have only to pull your hat over your eyes. Come! pretend -you have a toothache! Put your handkerchief to your face. Quick! here -are some people who know me and are looking at me. Be more -self-possessed and quicken your pace." -</p> -<p> -Talking thus, and walking rapidly, she reached the church door, leaning -on my arm. I was about to take leave of her and lose myself in the crowd -that was coming out with us, for the mass was at an end, when Abbé -Cignola appeared once more, standing on the porch and pretending to talk -with one of the sacristans. His sidelong glance followed us closely. -</p> -<p> -"Isn't that so, Hector?" said the signora, as we passed him, putting her -head between the abbé's face and mine. Lila was trembling in every -limb; so was the signora, but her alarm redoubled her courage. A -carriage with the crest and livery of the Grimanis drove up with a great -clatter, and the multitude, who always gaze greedily at any display of -magnificence, crowded under the wheels and the horses' feet. Moreover, -the Grimani equipage always attracted a particularly large crowd of -beggars; for the pious aunt was accustomed to dispense alms lavishly as -she drove along. A tall footman at the carriage door was obliged to push -them back in order to open it; and I walked on, still escorting the -signora, still followed by Abbé Cignola's inquisitorial glance. -</p> -<p> -"Get in with me," said the signora, in a tone that admitted of no -denial, and with a vigorous pressure of my arm, as she placed her foot -on the step. I hesitated; it seemed to me that this last audacious -stroke would inevitably be her ruin. -</p> -<p> -"Get in, I say," she repeated in a sort of passion; and as soon as I was -seated by her side she herself raised the window, barely giving Lila -time to take her seat opposite us, and the servant to close the door. In -an instant we were driving at full speed through the streets of -Florence. -</p> -<p> -"Don't be afraid, my dear Lila," said the signora, putting her arm -around her foster sister's neck, and kissing her affectionately on the -cheek; "everything will come out all right. Abbé Cignola has never seen -my cousin, and it is impossible that he should have seen Signor Lelio -distinctly enough ever to discover the fraud." -</p> -<p> -"Oh! signora, Abbé Cignola is the kind of man one can't deceive." -</p> -<p> -"Bah! what do I care for your Abbé Cignola? I tell you that I make my -aunt believe whatever I choose." -</p> -<p> -"And Signor Hector will say that he didn't go to mass with you," I -observed. -</p> -<p> -"Oh! as for that, I promise you that he will say whatever I want him to; -if necessary I will convince him that he actually was at mass while he -fancied that he was hunting." -</p> -<p> -"But the servants, signora? The footman looked at Signor Lelio with a -strange expression, then suddenly started back, as if he had recognized -the piano-tuner." -</p> -<p> -"Very good! you must tell him that I met <i>that man</i> in the church and -bade him good-morning; that he told me that he had an errand to do in -our neighborhood, and that, as I am very obliging, I offered to save him -the trouble of going there on foot. We will set him down in front of the -first country house we come to. And you can say in addition that I am -very heedless, that my aunt has very good reason to scold me, but that I -am an excellent young person, although a little wild, and that it -grieves you to see me so constantly reprimanded. As they are all fond of -me, and as I will give each one of them a little present, they will say -nothing at all. Enough of this! can't either of you think of something -else to say to me than lamentations over a thing that is done? Signor -Lelio, how do you like this gloomy city of Florence? Don't you think -that all these black old palaces, iron-bound to the very eaves, look -exactly like prisons?" -</p> -<p> -I tried to carry on the conversation in an unconcerned tone; but I was -very far from satisfied. I felt no inclination for adventures in which -all the risk was taken by the woman, and all the wrong was on my side. -It seemed to me that she treated me very inconsiderately in exposing -herself thus for my sake to perils and disasters which she would not -permit me to meet or avert. -</p> -<p> -I was so distressed that I remained silent in spite of myself. The -signora, having attempted in vain to maintain the conversation, also -held her peace. Lila's face continued to wear a terrified expression. We -had left the city. Twice I observed that we had reached what seemed a -favorable place to stop the carriage and set me down; twice the signora -refused in an imperious tone, saying that we were too near the city and -that there was still danger of meeting some acquaintance. -</p> -<p> -For a quarter of an hour we had not spoken a word, and the situation was -becoming intensely disagreeable. I was displeased with the signora, -because she had involved me, without my consent, in an adventure in -which I could no longer proceed at my own pleasure. I was even more -displeased with myself for allowing myself to be led into a series of -childish exploits of which all the shame must fall upon me; for, even in -the eyes of the least scrupulous of men, to seduce or compromise a girl -of fifteen must always be considered an evil and cowardly performance. -I was on the point of ordering the coachman to stop myself, when, on -turning toward my travelling companions, I saw that the signora was -weeping silently. I uttered an exclamation of surprise, and, moved by an -irresistible impulse, I took her hand; but she abruptly withdrew it, and -throwing her arms about Lila's neck, who was weeping also, hid her face -on her faithful soubrette's bosom and sobbed as if her heart would -break. -</p> -<p> -"In heaven's name, why do you weep in such heartrending fashion, my dear -signora?" I cried, almost falling at her feet. "If you do not wish to -send me away in utter despair, tell me if this unlucky adventure is the -cause of your tears, and if I can help to turn aside the consequences -which you dread." -</p> -<p> -She raised her head from Lila's shoulder, and replied, glancing at me -with something like indignation: -</p> -<p> -"You must think me a great coward!" -</p> -<p> -"I think nothing except what you tell me," I said. "But you turn away -from me, and you weep; how can I tell what is taking place in your mind? -Ah! if I have offended or displeased you, if I am the involuntary cause -of your unhappiness, how can I ever forgive myself?" -</p> -<p> -"So you think that I am afraid, do you?" she rejoined, in a tone at once -tender and bitter. "You see me weeping, and you say: 'She is like a -little girl who is afraid of being scolded!'" -</p> -<p> -She wept more bitterly than ever, concealing her face in her -handkerchief. I strove to comfort her, I implored her to answer me, to -look at me, to explain herself; and, in that moment of confusion and -emotion, my feeling toward her was so paternal and friendly that chance -brought to my lips, amid the sweet names by which I called her, the name -of a child who had once been dear to me. That name I had been accustomed -for many years to apply, unconsciously as it were, to all the lovely -children whom I chanced to caress. "My dear signora," I said, "dear -Alezia——" I paused, afraid that I might have offended her by -giving her accidentally a name that was not her own. But she did not seem -offended; she looked at me with some surprise and allowed me to take her -hand, which I covered with kisses. -</p> -<p> -Meanwhile the carriage was rolling on like the wind, and before I had -had time to obtain the explanation which I sought so eagerly, Lila -informed us that the Grimani villa was in sight and that we absolutely -must part. -</p> -<p> -"What!" I cried; "am I to leave you thus? for how long a time must I eat -my heart out in this horrible uncertainty?" -</p> -<p> -"Come to the park to-night," she said; "the wall is not very high. I -will be in the narrow path that runs by the wall, near a statue which -you will easily find by turning to your right from the gate. At one -o'clock!" -</p> -<p> -Again I kissed the signora's hands. -</p> -<p> -"Oh! signora! signora!" exclaimed Lila, in a mild, sad tone of reproach. -</p> -<p> -"Do not thwart me, Lila," said the signora, vehemently; "you know what I -told you this morning." -</p> -<p> -Lila seemed utterly dismayed. -</p> -<p> -"What did the signora say?" I asked her. -</p> -<p> -"She wanted to kill herself," sobbed Lila. -</p> -<p> -"Kill yourself, signora!" I cried. "You who are so lovely, so -light-hearted, so happy, so dearly loved!" -</p> -<p> -"So dearly loved, Lelio!" she replied, in a despairing tone. "By whom am -I loved, pray? only by my poor mother and by this dear Lila." -</p> -<p> -"And by the poor artist who dares not tell you so," I added, "but who -would give his life to make you love yours." -</p> -<p> -"You lie!" she exclaimed passionately; "you do not love me!" -</p> -<p> -I seized her arm in a convulsive grasp and gazed at her in stupefaction. -At that moment the carriage suddenly stopped. Lila had pulled the cord. -I jumped out, and tried, as I saluted my travelling companions, to -resume the humble demeanor of the piano-tuner. But the red eyes of the -two young women did not escape the footman's penetrating glance. He -examined me with the greatest attention, and, when the carriage drove -on, he turned several times to look after me. I had a vague idea that -his features were familiar to me; but I had not dared to look him in the -eye, and it did not occur to me to try to recall where I had seen that -coarse, pale, heavily bearded face. -</p> -<p> -"Lelio! Lelio!" said Checchina, when we were at supper, "you are in high -spirits to-day. Look out that you do not weep to-morrow, my boy." -</p> -<p> -At midnight, I had scaled the park wall; but I had taken only a step or -two on the path when a hand grasped my cloak. To guard against accident, -I had provided myself with what, in my village, we call a "night-knife," -and I was about to produce it when I recognized the fair Lila. -</p> -<p> -"Just a word, Signor Lelio, in great haste," she said in a low voice; -"do not say that you are married." -</p> -<p> -"What do you mean by that, my dear child? I am not." -</p> -<p> -"It doesn't concern me," rejoined Lila; "but I beg you not to mention -that lady who lives with you." -</p> -<p> -"You are on my side then, my dear Lila?" -</p> -<p> -"Oh! no, signor, certainly not! I do all that I can to prevent the -signora from doing all these imprudent things. But she won't listen to -me, and if I should tell her of the circumstance that might and should -part her from you forever,—I don't know what would happen!" -</p> -<p> -"What do you mean? Explain yourself." -</p> -<p> -"Alas! you saw to-day what an excitable person she is. She has such a -strange nature! When she is disappointed, she is capable of anything. A -month ago, when she was taken away from her mother to be shut up here, -she talked of taking poison. Whenever her aunt, who is really a great -scold, irritates her, she has nervous paroxysms which amount almost to -insanity; and last night, when I ventured to say to her that perhaps you -loved someone else, she rushed to her chamber window, crying like a -madwoman: 'Ah! if I thought so!' I threw myself upon her, I unlaced her, -I closed her windows, I didn't leave her during the night, and she cried -all night, or else fell asleep for a moment to wake with a start and run -about her room like a lunatic. Ah! Signor Lelio, she makes me very -unhappy; I love her so dearly! for, in spite of her outbreaks and her -eccentricities, she is so kind, so affectionate, so generous! Do not -drive her to frenzy, I implore you; you are an honorable man, I am sure, -I know it; everybody said so at Naples, and the signora listened with -passionate eagerness to all the stories of your kind deeds. So you won't -deceive her, and since you love the beautiful lady whom I saw at your -house——" -</p> -<p> -"Who told you that I love her, Lila? She is my sister." -</p> -<p> -"Oh! Signor Lelio! you are deceiving me! for I asked that lady if you -were her brother, and she said no. You will think that I am very -inquisitive, and that it is none of my business. No, I am not -inquisitive, Signor Lelio; but I entreat you to be a friend to my poor -mistress, to be like a brother to his sister or a father to his -daughter. Just think a moment! she is a child fresh from the convent and -hasn't any idea of the evil things that may be said about her. She says -that she doesn't care for them, but I know how she takes such things -when they come. Talk to her very gently, make her understand that you -cannot see her in secret; but promise that you will call on her at her -mother's when we return to Naples; for her mother is so good and loves -her daughter so dearly that I am sure she would invite you to her house -to give her pleasure. And then, too, perhaps the signora's madness will -subside little by little. One can often change the current of her -thoughts with amusements and distractions. I told her about the -beautiful Angora cat I saw in your salon, which rubbed against you so -while you were reading her letter that you had to kick her to drive her -away. My mistress doesn't care at all for dogs, but she loves cats. She -was taken with such a longing for yours, that you ought to give it to -her; I am sure that it would keep her busy and cheer her up for several -days." -</p> -<p> -"If my cat is all that is necessary to console your mistress for my -absence," I replied, "there is no great harm done, and the remedy is -simple enough. Be very sure, Lila, that I will act toward your mistress -as a father and a friend. Have confidence in me. But let me go to her, -for perhaps she is waiting for me." -</p> -<p> -"One word more, Signor Lelio. If you want the signora to listen to you, -don't tell her that the common people are as good as the people of -quality. She is tainted with her nobility. Don't form a bad opinion of -her on that account, for it's a family disease; all the Grimanis are -like that. But that does not prevent my young mistress from being kind -and charitable. It is simply an idea she has got in her head, which -makes her fly into a great passion when any one thwarts her. Would you -believe that she has already refused I don't know how many handsome -young men, and very rich too, because they were not well-born enough for -her. However, Signor Lelio, agree with her at first on every subject, -and you will soon persuade her of whatever you choose. Oh! if you could -only persuade her to marry a young count who proposed for her not long -ago!" -</p> -<p> -"Her cousin, Count Hector?" -</p> -<p> -"Oh, no! he is a fool, and he bores everybody to death; even his dogs -begin to yawn as soon as they see him." -</p> -<p> -As I listened to Lila's prattle, my fatherly manner having put her -completely at her ease, I led her toward the rendezvous. Not that I did -not listen to her with profound interest; all these details, trivial as -they were in appearance, were very important in my eyes; for they led me -by induction to a better knowledge of the enigmatical personage with -whom I had to deal. I must confess also, that they cooled my ardor to a -considerable extent, and that I began to look upon it as a most absurd -thing to be the hero of a romance in competition with the first -plaything that might come to hand; with my cat, Soliman, or—who could -say?—perhaps with Cousin Hector himself at the very outset. Thus -Lila's advice was identical with the advice which I gave myself and which -I was most desirous to follow. -</p> -<p> -We found the signora sitting at the foot of the statue, dressed all in -white—a costume by no means adapted to a mysterious meeting in the -open air, but for that very reason perfectly in harmony with her character. -As I approached, she sat so absolutely still that she might easily have -been taken for another statue sitting at the feet of the white marble -nymph. -</p> -<p> -She made no reply to my first words. With her elbow resting on her knee -and her chin on her hand, she was so pensive, so lovely, and her -attitude so graceful and stately, draped in her white veil in the -moonlight, that I should have believed her to be wrapt in sublime -contemplation, had not her love of cats and armorial bearings recurred -to my memory. -</p> -<p> -As she seemed determined to take no notice of me, I tried to take one of -her hands; but she drew it away with superb disdain, saying in a tone -more majestic than Louis XIV. ever had at his command: -</p> -<p> -"I have been obliged to wait!" -</p> -<p> -I could not refrain from laughing at that solemn quotation; but my -merriment served only to increase her gravity. -</p> -<p> -"Do not stand on ceremony!" she said. "Laugh on; the hour and the place -are admirably suited to that!" -</p> -<p> -She uttered these words in a tone of bitter indignation, and I saw that -she was really angry. Thereupon, suddenly assuming a serious expression, -I asked her forgiveness for my unintentional offence, and told her that -I would not for anything in the world cause her one moment's -unhappiness. She looked at me with an uncertain expression, as if she -dared not believe me. But I began to speak to her with such evident -sincerity and warmth of my devotion and affection, that she soon allowed -herself to be convinced. -</p> -<p> -"So much the better!" she exclaimed, "so much the better! for, if you -did not love me, you would be very ungrateful, and I should be very -unhappy."—And as I gazed at her, utterly confounded by her words, she -continued: "O Lelio! Lelio! I have loved you ever since the evening that -I first saw you at Naples, playing Romeo, when I looked at you with that -cold and contemptuous expression which disturbed you so. Ah! you were -very eloquent and very impassioned in your singing that evening! The -moon shone upon you as it does now, but less lovely than it does now, -and Juliet was dressed in white as I am. And yet you say nothing to me, -Lelio!" -</p> -<p> -That extraordinary girl exerted a constant fascination over me which led -me on, always and everywhere, at the pleasure of her caprice. When we -were apart, my mind threw off her domination, and I could analyze freely -her words and her acts; but when I was once with her, I speedily and -unconsciously ceased to have any other will than hers. That outburst of -affection reawoke my slumbering passion. All my fine resolutions to be -prudent vanished in smoke, and I found naught but words of love on my -lips. At every instant, it is true, I felt a sharp pang of remorse; but -it made no difference—all my fatherly counsels ended in loving -phrases. A strange fatality—or rather that cowardice of the human -heart which makes us always yield to the allurement of present -joys—impelled me to say just the opposite of what my conscience -directed. I gave myself the most convincing reasons you can imagine to -prove that I was not doing wrong: it would have been useless cruelty to -talk to that child in language which would have torn her heart asunder; -there was still time enough to tell her the truth—and a thousand -other things of the same sort. One circumstance which seemed to lessen -the danger actually contributed to increase it: I mean Lila's presence. -If she had not been there, my natural uprightness would have led me to -watch myself all the more carefully, for the reason that anything would -be possible in a moment of excitement, and I probably should not have -gone forward a single step for fear of going too far. But, being sure -that I had nothing to fear from my senses, I was much less careful of my -words. So that it was not long before I reached the pitch of the most -intense, albeit the purest passion; and, spurred on by an irresistible -impulse, I seized a lock of the girl's floating hair and kissed it -twice. -</p> -<p> -I felt then that it was quite time for me to go, and I walked rapidly -away, saying: -</p> -<p> -"Until to-morrow." -</p> -<p> -Throughout this scene I had forgotten the past, little by little, and -had not once thought of the future. The voice of Lila, who went with me -to the gate, roused me from my trance. -</p> -<p> -"O Signor Lelio!" she said to me, "you didn't keep your promise. You -were not my mistress's father nor her friend to-night." -</p> -<p> -"It is true," I replied gloomily; "it is true, I have done wrong. But -never mind, my child, to-morrow I will make up for it all." -</p> -<p> -The next day it was the same story, and so with the next and the next. -But I felt that I was more deeply in love every day; and the sentiment -which, on the first day, was simply an inclination to fall in love, had -become a genuine passion on the third. Lila's heart-broken air would -have told me so plainly enough, had I not discovered it first myself. -All along the road I reflected upon the future of that love-affair, and -I returned home pale and distressed. Checchina soon found out what was -the matter. -</p> -<p> -"Poor boy!" she said, "I told you that you would weep before long." -</p> -<p> -And as I opened my mouth to remonstrate, she added: "If you have not -wept yet, you soon will; and there is reason enough. Your position is a -pitiful one, and, what is worse, absurd. You love a mere girl whom your -pride forbids you to try to marry, and whom your delicate sense of honor -deters you from seducing. You do not wish to ask for her hand, in the -first place because you know that if she bestowed it on you she would -make a tremendous sacrifice, and would expose herself for your sake to -innumerable discomforts, and you are too generous to accept a happiness -which would cost her so dear; secondly, because you dread being refused, -and are too proud to run the risk of being treated with disdain. Nor do -you want to take what you have determined not to ask for, and I am very -sure that you would much prefer to go off and be a monk than to take -advantage of the ignorance of a girl who trusts you. But you must decide -on something, my poor fellow, if you don't want the end of the world to -come and find you sighing for the stars and throwing kisses to the -clouds. Let dogs bay at the moon; we artists must live at any price and -every moment. So make up your mind." -</p> -<p> -"You are right," I replied gravely. And I went to bed. -</p> -<p> -The next night I went again to the rendezvous. I found the signora -excited and in high spirits, as on the preceding night; but I was -taciturn and gloomy for some time. She joked me at first on my -<i>carbonaro</i>-like manner, and asked me laughingly if I was thinking of -dethroning the pope or reconstructing the Roman empire. Then, as I did -not reply, she gazed earnestly at me, and said, taking my hand: -</p> -<p> -"You are sad, Lelio. What is the matter?" -</p> -<p> -Thereupon I opened my heart to her, and said that my passion for her was -a misfortune to me. -</p> -<p> -"A misfortune? how so?" -</p> -<p> -"I will tell you, signora. You are the heiress of a noble and -illustrious family. You have been brought up to respect your ancestors -and to believe that antiquity and splendor of race are all that there is -in life. I am a poor devil without a past, a nobody, who have made -myself what I am. And yet I believe that one man is as good as another, -and I do not consider myself any man's inferior. Now, it is clear that -you would not marry me. Everything would forbid it, your principles, -your habits, your position in life. You, who have refused patricians -because their families were not noble enough, would be less able and -less likely than any other woman to stoop to a paltry actor like myself. -From princess to player is a long way, signora. So I cannot be your -husband. What is left for me? The prospect of a mutual passion, -wretchedly unhappy if it were never gratified, or the hope of being your -lover for a time. I cannot accept either, signora. To live together, -overflowing with a passion always intense and never allayed, to love -each other in fear and trembling, and to distrust ourselves as well as -each other, is to subject ourselves voluntarily to suffering that would -be intolerable because it would be senseless, hopeless, and aimless. Nor -would I, even if I could, possess you as a lover. My happiness would be -assailed by anxiety from too many sources to be at all complete. On the -one hand, I should always be afraid of compromising your good name; I -could not sleep with the dread of being the cause of great misery to -you, or of your utter ruin; during the day I should pass long hours -looking out for accidents which might bring misery upon you and -consequently upon me, and at night I should waste the time that we were -together in trembling at the fall of a leaf or at the cry of a bird. -Everything would be a source of alarm to me. And why should I thus toss -my life to a multitude of empty phantoms, to be consumed? for a -love-affair of which I could never foresee the duration and which would -afford no compensation for the uncertainties of to-day in a sense of -security for the morrow; for sooner or later, signora,—I must say it -frankly—you would marry. And you would marry a man of noble birth and -of great wealth like yourself. It would cost you a bitter pang, I know; -I know that you have a generous and sincere heart; you would desire most -earnestly to remain faithful to me, and your heart would rebel at the -thought of uttering a word which would put an end to all my happiness -surely, if not to my life. But the constant assaults of your family, the -very necessity of preserving your reputation, would drive you to take -that course in spite of yourself. You would struggle a long while, no -doubt, and vigorously. Your love for me would still be gentle and -tender, but less effusive; and I, witnessing your grief, as I am not the -man to accept long and painful sacrifices without returning them in -kind, should myself force you, by going away from you, to resign -yourself to that necessary marriage, preferring to consecrate my whole -future to sorrow rather than to change your destiny by a dastardly act. -That is what I wanted to say to you, signora, and you must understand -now why I am afraid that this love would prove to be a misfortune to -me." -</p> -<p> -She had listened to me with perfect tranquillity and in absolute -silence. When I ceased speaking, she did not change her attitude in any -way. But, watching her closely, I fancied that I detected an expression -of profound perplexity on her face. Thereupon I said to myself that I -had made no mistake, that she was weak and vain like all the rest of her -sex; that the only difference was that she was honest enough to -recognize the fact as soon as it was pointed out to her, and that she -would probably be honest enough to admit it. So I allowed her to retain -my esteem, but I felt that my enthusiasm vanished in an instant. I was -congratulating myself on my perspicacity and my firmness, when the -signora rose abruptly and walked away without a word. I was not prepared -for that stroke, and I was painfully surprised. -</p> -<p> -"What! without a single word?" I cried. "You leave me, perhaps forever, -without a single word of regret or consolation?" -</p> -<p> -"Farewell!" she said, turning toward me. "Regret I cannot feel; and I am -the one who need consolation. You have failed to understand me, you do -not love me." -</p> -<p> -"I do not love you?" -</p> -<p> -"But who will understand me," she added, stopping, "if you do not? Who -will love me, if you do not?" -</p> -<p> -She shook her head sadly, then folded her arms across her breast and -fixed her eyes on the ground. She was at once so lovely and so -despairing that I had a frantic longing to throw myself at her feet, and -only a vague fear of angering her prevented me from doing it on the -instant. I stood still, saying not a word, with my eyes fastened upon -her, waiting anxiously to see what she would say or do. After a few -seconds she walked slowly toward me, and, leaning against the pedestal -of the statue, said with a meditative air: -</p> -<p> -"So you thought me cowardly and vain; you thought me capable of giving -my love to a man and accepting his, without giving him at the same time -my whole life. You thought that I would stay with you so long as the -wind held fair, and that I would go away as soon as it became adverse. -How can you have thought so? For you are a steadfast, loyal man, and I -am sure that you would not start upon any serious course of action until -you had determined to go on with it to the end. Why, then, do you insist -that I cannot do what you do, and why have you not the same good opinion -of me that I have of you? Either you must have great contempt for women, -or you have allowed yourself to be sadly misled by my levity. I am often -foolish; I know that; but perhaps that may be to some extent the fault -of my age, and it does not prevent my being steadfast and loyal. On the -day that I realized that I loved you, Lelio, I determined to marry you. -That surprises you. You remember not only the thoughts that I must have -had in my position, but also my past words and acts. You think of all -the patricians I have refused to marry because they were not noble -enough. Alas! my dear friend, I am the slave of my public, just as you -sometimes complain of being of yours, and I am obliged to play my rôle -before it until I find an opportunity to escape from the stage. But I -have kept my heart free under my mask, and, since I have been able to -reason, I have determined that I would not marry except in accordance -with the dictates of my heart. But I had to have some excuse for -dismissing all those insipid and impertinent patricians to whom you -refer. I found it in the prejudices common to my suitors and my family, -and, wounding the pride of the former and flattering the pride of the -latter at the same time, I took advantage of the antiquity of my blood -to refuse the hand of men who, noble as they were, were still, I said, -not noble enough for me. In this way I succeeded in getting rid of all -my troublesome suitors without displeasing my family; for although they -called my refusals childish whims, and offered my rejected followers -apologies for my exaggerated pride of birth, they were none the less -enchanted with it in the depths of their hearts. For some little time I -enjoyed greater freedom by virtue of this conduct. But at last my -stepfather, Prince Grimani, told me that it was time to make up my mind, -and presented his nephew, Count Ettore, as the husband he had in mind -for me. This new pretender was as unattractive to me as his -predecessor—even more so perhaps; for his excessive imbecility soon -led me to despise him altogether. The prince, seeing this, and thinking -that my mother, who is a dear soul and loves me with all her heart, might -aid and abet me in my resistance to his will, determined to part me from -her in order to force me more easily to obey him. He sent me here to live -with no one but his sister and nephew. He hopes that, being compelled to -choose between ennui and my cousin Ettore, I shall end by choosing the -latter; but he is sadly mistaken. Count Ettore is unworthy of me in -every respect, and I should rather die than marry him. I have never said -so as yet, because I loved nobody, and, taking one scourge with another, -I had no more objection to that one than to others. But now I love you, -Lelio; I will tell Ettore that I will not have him; we will go away -together—to my mother; we will tell her that we love each other, and -that we wish to be married. She will give her consent, and you will -marry me. Do you agree?" -</p> -<p> -I had listened to the signora, from her very first word, with profound -amazement, which did not cease when she had finished. Such nobleness of -heart, such fearlessness of thought, such masculine audacity blended -with such delicacy of feeling—all these united in so young a girl, -brought up amid the most arrogant of the old aristocrats—aroused the -warmest admiration in my own mind, and my surprise gave place to -enthusiasm. I was on the point of giving way to my transports and of -throwing myself at her feet to tell her that I was happy and proud to be -loved by a woman like her, that I was burning with the most ardent -passion for her, and that I was ready to do whatever she choose. But -reflection checked me in time, and I thought of all the drawbacks, all -the dangers of the step she proposed to risk. It was very probable that -she would be refused and severely rebuked, and then what would be her -plight, after running away from her aunt's house and openly taking a -journey of eight leagues with me? And so, instead of yielding to the -tumultuous impulses of my heart, I forced myself to be calm, and, after -a few seconds of silence, I tranquilly inquired: -</p> -<p> -"But your family?" -</p> -<p> -"There is but one person in the world whose authority over me I -acknowledge, and whose anger I fear to incur: that is my mother; and, as -I have told you, my mother is as kind as an angel, and loves me beyond -everything. Her heart will consent." -</p> -<p> -"O dear child!" I cried, taking her hands and pressing them against my -heart; "God knows that what you propose to do is the goal of all my -desires! I am fighting against myself when I try to hold you back. Every -objection that I urge means the loss of one more hope of happiness for -myself, and my heart suffers cruelly from all the doubts suggested by my -reason. But to my mind, you, my beloved angel, and your future, your -reputation, your happiness, are to be considered first of all. I should -much rather renounce all hope than have you suffer because of me. So do -not be alarmed at all my scruples; do not see in them an indication of -calmness or indifference, but the proof of an unbounded affection. You -say that you know your mother will consent because you know that she is -kind. But you are very young, my child; with all your strength of mind, -you do not know what abnormal alliances are often found between the most -contrary sentiments. I believe all that you tell me of your mother, but -can you be sure that her pride will not resist her love for you? It may -be that she will think that she is performing a sacred duty by -preventing your union with an actor." -</p> -<p> -"You may be half right," she replied. "Not that I am afraid of my -mother's pride. Although she has married two princes, she belongs to the -middle class by birth, and has never forgotten her own origin so far -that she would consider it a crime for me to love a plebeian. But Prince -Grimani's influence, a certain weakness which makes her always coincide -with the opinions of those about her, and perhaps, to represent things -in the worst possible light, the longing to obtain forgiveness for her -own humble birth in the social circle in which she now lives, would -prevent her from giving a ready consent to our marriage. So that there -is but one thing to do; that is to be married first and then tell her of -it. When our union is sanctified by the Church, my mother will never -have the heart to turn against me. It may be that she will suffer a -little, less on account of my disobedience, although her new family will -hold her entirely responsible for it, than on account of what she will -consider a lack of confidence on my part; but she will very soon be -appeased, you may be sure, and, from love for me, will open her arms to -you as to a son." -</p> -<p> -"Thanks for your generous offers, my dear signora; but I have my honor -to preserve, no less than the proudest patrician. If I should marry you -without your parent's consent, after abducting you, people would not -fail to accuse me of the basest and most dastardly projects. And your -mother! suppose that after we were married she should refuse to forgive -us, all her indignation would fall upon me." -</p> -<p> -"I understand then that, before marrying, you desire to have my mother's -consent at least?" -</p> -<p> -"Yes, signora." -</p> -<p> -"And if you were sure of obtaining it, you would hesitate no longer?" -</p> -<p> -"Alas! why tempt me? What answer can I make, being sure of the -contrary?" -</p> -<p> -"Then——" -</p> -<p> -She paused abruptly, in evident uncertainty, and dropped her head on her -breast. When she raised it, she was slightly pale and tears were -glistening in her eyes. I was about to ask her the cause of them, but -she did not give me time. -</p> -<p> -"Lila," she said in an imperative tone, "go!" -</p> -<p> -The girl obeyed regretfully, and stopped far enough away to be out of -hearing, but not so far that she could not see us. Her mistress waited -until she had gone, before breaking the silence. Then she took my hand -with a most serious air, and began: -</p> -<p> -"I am going to tell you something which I have never told before to a -living soul, and which I had fully determined never to tell. It relates -to my mother, the object of all my veneration and all my love. Judge -what it must cost me to stir a memory which might tarnish her purity and -her fair fame in the sight of other eyes than mine. But I know that you -are kind-hearted, and that I can speak to you as I would speak to God, -without any fear that you will imagine evil." -</p> -<p> -She paused a moment to collect her ideas, then continued: -</p> -<p> -"I remember that I was very proud of my noble blood in my childhood. It -was, I fancy, the obsequious fawning of our servants that planted that -sentiment in my mind so early in life, and led me to despise everybody -who was not noble like myself. Among my mother's servants there was one -who did not resemble the others, and who had been able to retain, in his -humble station, the dignity that befits a man. So that he seemed to me -an insolent wretch, and my feeling for him was little short of hatred. -Still I was afraid of him, especially after a certain day when I saw him -watching me with a very grave expression, as I was running my loveliest -dolls through the heart with a long black pin. -</p> -<p> -"One night, I was awakened in my mother's bedroom, where my little bed -always stood, by the sound of a man's voice. That voice was speaking to -my mother with a gravity that was almost harsh, and she replied in a -grief-stricken, timid, almost imploring tone. In my astonishment I -thought at first that it was mamma's confessor; and as he seemed to be -scolding her according to his custom, I listened with all my ears, -without making a sound or letting them suspect that I wasn't asleep. -They had no suspicion of me. They talked without restraint. But such an -extraordinary conversation! My mother said: 'If you loved me, you would -marry me,' and the man refused to marry her! Then mamma wept and so did the -man; and I heard—ah! Lelio, I must be very fond of you to tell you -this—I heard the sound of kisses. It seemed to me as if I knew the -man's voice; but I could not believe the testimony of my ears. I longed -to look; but I didn't dare to move, because I felt that I was doing a -shameful thing in listening, and as I had even then some elevated -sentiments, I tried not to hear. But I heard in spite of my efforts. At -last the man said to my mother: '<i>Addio</i>, I leave you forever; do not -refuse me a lock of your lovely hair.'—And my mother replied: 'Cut it -yourself.' -</p> -<p> -"The care which my mother took of my curls had accustomed me to look -upon a woman's hair as something very valuable; and when I heard her -give him part of hers, I had a thrill of jealousy and grief, as if she -had parted with property which she ought not to sacrifice to anybody but -myself. I began to weep silently; but, as I had heard steps approaching -my bed, I hastily wiped my eyes and pretended to be asleep. Then some -one put aside my curtains, and I saw a man all dressed in red, whom I -did not recognize at first because I had never seen him in that costume. -I was afraid of him; but he spoke to me, and I recognized him at once; -it was—Lelio, you will forget this story, won't you?" -</p> -<p> -"It was—signora?" I cried, convulsively pressing her hand. -</p> -<p> -"It was Nello, our gondolier—Why, Lelio, what's the matter with you? -You are shivering, your hand trembles. O heaven! you blame my mother!" -</p> -<p> -"No, signora, no!" I replied in an inaudible voice; "I am listening -attentively to you. This took place at Venice, did it?" -</p> -<p> -"Did I tell you so?" -</p> -<p> -"I think you did; and it was in the Aldini palace, of course?" -</p> -<p> -"Of course, for I told you it was in my mother's bedroom. But why this -agitation, Lelio?" -</p> -<p> -"O my God! my God! and your name is Alezia Aldini!" -</p> -<p> -"Well, what are you thinking about?" said she, testily. "One would say -that you had just learned my name for the first time." -</p> -<p> -"Pardon me, signora, your family name—I always heard you called -Grimani, at Naples." -</p> -<p> -"By people who were but slightly acquainted with us, doubtless. I am the -last of the Aldinis, one of the most ancient families of the Republic, -proud beyond words, and now ruined. But my mother is rich, and Prince -Grimani, who considers my birth and fortune worthy his nephew, sometimes -treats me sternly, sometimes wheedles me to prevail on me to marry him. -When he has a kind day he calls me his dear daughter, and when strangers -ask him if I am really his daughter, he answers, alluding to his -favorite project: 'To be sure, for she will be Countess Grimani.' That -is why I was always called by a name that is not mine at Naples, where I -passed a month, and where I knew almost nobody, and why I am called by -the same name in this region, where I have been living six weeks, and -where I neither see nor know anybody." -</p> -<p> -"Signora," said I, making a mighty effort to break the painful silence -into which I had relapsed, "will you please explain to me what relation -this story can possibly bear to our love, and how, by the aid of the -secret you possess, you can extort from your mother a consent which she -would be otherwise disinclined to grant?" -</p> -<p> -"What do you say, Lelio? Do you believe me capable of such detestable -scheming? If you would listen to me instead of passing your hands over -your forehead with that bewildered air,—my friend, my dear Lelio, -what new sorrow, what fresh scruple has assailed you in the last few -seconds?" -</p> -<p> -"Dear signora, I beg you to go on." -</p> -<p> -"Very well! Understand that I have never forgotten that incident: that -it has caused all the sorrows and all the joys of my life. I realized -that I must never question my mother on the subject nor mention it to -anyone. You are the first person to whom I have ever told it, not -excepting my dear nurse Salomé, or my foster sister Lila, to whom I -tell everything. My pride suffered from my mother's error, which seemed -to rebound upon me. However, I adored her just the same. Perhaps, -indeed, I loved her all the more, the more I felt that she was weak and -exposed to the secret maledictions of my relatives on my father's side. -But my hatred for the common people increased in the same proportion as -my love for her. -</p> -<p> -"My sentiments remained unchanged until I was fourteen years old, and my -mother had apparently ceased to pay any heed to them. In the bottom of -her heart she was pained by my contempt for the lower classes, and one -day she made up her mind to reproach me timidly on that subject. I made -no reply, which must have surprised her, for I was in the habit of -arguing obstinately with everybody and on every subject. But I felt that -there was a mountain between my mother and myself, and that we could not -argue impartially on either side. Seeing that I listened to her -reproaches with extraordinary resignation, she took me on her knees, -and, fondling me with unutterable affection, talked to me about my -father in the most unexceptionable terms; but she told me many things -that I did not know. I had always retained a sort of enthusiastic -respect, entirely without foundation, for that father of mine, whom I -had hardly known. When I learned that he had married my poor mother -solely for her fortune, and that, after marrying her, he had looked down -on her because of her obscure birth and inferior education, there was a -great reaction in my heart, and I soon hated him as intensely as I had -loved him. My mother said many other things which seemed very strange to -me and impressed me deeply, concerning the misfortune of marrying purely -for convenience; and I fancied that I could see that she was not much -happier with her new husband than she had been with him of whom she was -speaking to me. -</p> -<p> -"This conversation made a profound impression on me, and I began to -reflect upon the necessity of making marriage a matter of business, and -upon the humiliation of being courted because of a name or a dowry. I -resolved not to marry, and some time afterward, as I was talking with my -mother again, I made known my determination to her, thinking that she -would approve of it. She smiled and said that the time was not far away -when my heart would feel the need of a different love from hers. I -assured her of the contrary; but by slow degrees I came to realize that -I had spoken rashly; for I was assailed by the most intolerable ennui -when we laid aside our pleasant and secluded life at Venice, to travel -about and mingle in the brilliant society of other cities. Then, as I -was very tall and very far advanced for my years, it seemed as if I had -hardly ceased to be a child before they were already talking to me about -choosing a husband and about an establishment; and every day I overheard -discussions as to the merits and drawbacks of some new suitor. I had not -as yet felt the repugnance and terror which men without heart or mind -inspire in well-born women. I was hard to suit. Having lived always with -such a dear mother and been idolized by her, what a paragon of a man I -must have met in order not to regret most bitterly her gentle yoke and -her loving protection! My pride, already so irritable in itself, became -more and more sensitive every day at the appearance of the vain, -stilted, empty-headed creatures who presumed to pay court to me. I clung -to the virtues of noble birth, because I had imagined up to that time -that illustrious families were superior to others in courage, merit, -courtesy and liberality. I had not seen the nobility except in the -portrait gallery of the Aldini Palace. There my ancestors appeared -before me in all their glory, with all their great feats of arms or -pious deeds recorded on oaken bas-reliefs. This one had ransomed three -hundred slaves from barbarian pirates and bestowed true religion and -freedom upon them; that one had sacrificed all his property in war for -the salvation of his country; a third had shed all his blood for her on -some glorious field. So that my admiration for them was justifiable, and -I felt that the blood in my veins was no less warm and generous than -theirs. But how shockingly the descendants of other patricians seemed to -me to have degenerated! They retained none of the qualities of their -race except insufferable incompetency and sickening presumption. I asked -myself what had become of the nobility; I found it only on armorial -bearings and on the doorways of palaces. I determined to become a nun, -and I urged my mother so persistently to allow me to enter a convent, -that she consented. She wept bitterly when she left me there. Prince -Grimani approved of my whim; for since he had unearthed, in some corner -of Lombardy, a sort of nephew who might become rich at my expense, and -bear magnificently, thanks to my dowry, the imperishable name of -Grimani, his only thought was to make me obedient to his wishes, and he -flattered himself that religion would make my character more pliable. -What fervent piety, what a thirst for martyrdom one must have in order -to accept Hector! They took me away from the convent three months ago; -the fact is that I was dying with ennui there, and the rigid discipline -to which I had to submit was beyond my strength. And then I was so happy -to return to my mother and she to have me with her! But six weeks of -convent life had wrought a great change in my ideas. I had come to -understand Jesus, to whom I had always prayed with my lips alone. In my -hours of solitude, in church, in the earnest outpouring of my heart in -prayer, I had learned that the son of Mary was the friend of the -hard-working poor, and that he had justly scorned the grandeurs of this -world. And how shall I tell you? at the same time that I opened my heart -to new sympathies, the thing that in my childhood I used mentally to -call my mother's shame presented itself to me under very different -colors, and I thought of it only with deep emotion. What took place -within me? I cannot say; but I said to myself: 'If I should do as mamma -did, if I should fall in love with a man of a different station in life -from my own, the whole world would throw stones at me, all except -mamma.' She would take me in her arms, and hiding my blushes in her -bosom she would say: 'Obey your heart, so that you may be happier than I -was after breaking mine.'—You are touched, Lelio! O heaven! it was a -tear that just fell on my hand. You are beaten, my dear! You see that I -am neither mad, nor wicked; now you will say <i>yes</i>, and you will come -and take me to-morrow. Swear it!" -</p> -<p> -I tried to speak, but I could not find a word; I was shuddering from -head to foot. I felt as if I were about to faint. With her eyes fixed -upon me she anxiously awaited my reply. For my own part, I was -completely crushed. At the very first words of her story, I had been -struck by its strange resemblance to my own; but when she came to those -incidents which it was impossible for me not to recognize, I was -completely bewildered and dazzled, as if the lightning had struck close -beside me. A thousand conflicting and sinister thoughts took possession -of my brain. I saw images of crime and despair fluttering about before -me like ghosts. Deeply moved by the memory of what had been, appalled at -the thought of what might be, I imagined myself the mother's lover and -the daughter's husband at the same time. Alezia, that child whom I had -seen in her cradle, stood before me, talking in the same breath of her -love and her mother's. -</p> -<p> -A world of recollections crowded into my mind, and little Alezia -appeared there as the object, even then, of a timid and unjoyful -affection. I recalled her pride, her hatred of me, and the words she had -said to me one day when she saw her father's ring on my finger. "Who can -say," I thought, "that she has renounced her prejudices forever? It may -be that if she should learn at this moment that I am Nello, her former -servant, she would blush for loving me." -</p> -<p> -"Signora," I said to her, "you used, you say, to be fond of piercing the -hearts of your dolls with a long pin. Why did you do that?" -</p> -<p> -"What do you care? why does that detail impress you particularly?" -</p> -<p> -"Because my heart aches, and your pins naturally came to my mind." -</p> -<p> -"I will tell you why it was, to show you that it was not a mere -barbarous whim," she replied. "I used to hear it said, when a man did a -cowardly thing, 'that's what it is to have no blood in the heart;' and I -took that metaphorical expression literally. So when I scolded my dolls, -I would say to them: 'you are cowards, and I am going to look and see if -you have any blood in your hearts.'" -</p> -<p> -"You despise cowards bitterly, don't you, signora?" I asked, wondering -what her opinion of me would be some day if I should give way at that -moment to her romantic passion. Once more I fell into a melancholy -reverie. -</p> -<p> -"What is the matter, in heaven's name?" said Alezia. -</p> -<p> -Her voice recalled me to myself. I looked at her with streaming eyes. -She was weeping too, but on account of my hesitation. I understood it at -once, and I said, taking her hands with a paternal gesture: -</p> -<p> -"O my child! do not accuse me! Do not doubt my poor heart! If you only -knew how I am suffering!" -</p> -<p> -And I walked rapidly away, as if by leaving her I could escape my -unhappiness. On reaching home I became calmer. I went over in my mind -the whole extraordinary succession of events; I worked out all their -details, and thus banished from my own mind the flavor of mystery which -had paralyzed me at first with superstitious terror. It was all strange, -but natural, even to the Christian name, that name Alezia, which I had -always longed to know and had never dared to ask. -</p> -<p> -I do not know whether another man in my place could have continued to -love the young Signora Aldini. Strictly speaking, I might have done it -without criminality; for you will remember that I had not ceased to be a -chaste and obedient lover of her mother. But my conscience rebelled at -the thought of that incest of the mind. I loved La Grimani with her -unknown baptismal name, I loved her with all my heart and all my senses; -but in truth I did not love in that way little Alezia, Signorina Aldini, -Bianca's daughter, for it seemed to me that I was her father. The memory -of Bianca's charms and fascinating qualities had remained pure and -undimmed throughout my life; it had followed me everywhere like a -providence. It had made me generous to women and brave against myself. -Although I had since fallen in with many false and selfish beauties, I -always had the certainty that there are those who are sincere and -generous. Bianca had made no sacrifice to me, because I had refused to -accept any; but if I had accepted it, if I had yielded to her -enthusiasm, she would have sacrificed everything to me, friends, family, -fortune, honor, religion, and perhaps her daughter too! What a sacred -debt I owed to her! Had I paid it in full by my refusal, by my -departure? No; for she was a woman, that is to say, weak and submissive, -exposed to the implacable decrees and the bitter insults of irony. And -she would have braved it all, she who was so timid, so gentle, so like a -child in a thousand ways. She would have done a sublime thing; and I, -had I accepted, should have done a dastardly thing. So that I had done -nothing more than fulfil a duty to myself, whereas she had exposed -herself to the risk of martyrdom for my sake. Poor Bianca, my first, -perhaps my only love! how lovely she had always remained in my memory! -"Why, in heaven's name," I said to myself, "am I afraid that she has -grown old and withered? Ought I not to be indifferent to that? Should I -still love her? no, probably not; but, whether ugly or lovely, could I -see her to-day without danger?" And at that thought my heart beat so -violently that I realized how impossible it was for me to be her -daughter's husband or lover. -</p> -<p> -And then too, to take advantage of the past—if it were only by a -silent assent to Alezia's wishes,—in order to obtain the hand of -Bianca's daughter, would have been a dishonorable act. Weak as I knew -Bianca to be, I knew that she would consider herself bound to give us -her consent; but I knew also that her old husband, her family, and, -above all, her confessor, would overwhelm her with their reproaches. She -had been able to make up her mind to marry a second time, a marriage of -convenience. Therefore, she was at heart a woman of the world, a slave -of social prejudices, and her love for me was simply a sublime episode, -the memory of which was to her a cause of shame and despair, whereas it -was my glory and my joy. "No, poor Bianca!" I thought, "no, I have not -paid my debt to you. You must have suffered terribly, perhaps trembled -with apprehension, at the idea that a servant might be peddling the -secret of your weakness from house to house. It is time that you should -sleep in peace, that you should cease to blush for the only happy days -of your youth, and that you should be able to say, poor woman, on -learning of Nello's everlasting silence, everlasting devotion, -everlasting love, that there was a time in your fettered, disappointed -life, when you knew love and inspired it." -</p> -<p> -I paced my room excitedly; day was beginning to break. In the lives of -men who sleep but little, that is the decisive hour which puts an end to -the hesitations conceived and nourished in the darkness, and which -changes plans into resolutions. I felt a thrill of enthusiastic joy and -legitimate pride at the thought that Lelio the actor had not fallen -below Nello the gondolier. Sometimes, in my romantic democratic ideas, I -had flushed with shame because I had left the thatched roof where I -might have perpetuated a hardy, laborious, and frugal race; I had -reproached myself, as for a crime, for having disdained the humble trade -of my fathers to seek the bitter joys of luxurious living, the vain -incense of glory, the false advantages and trivial labors of art. But by -performing, in the tinsel of the actor, the same acts of unselfishness -and true pride that I had performed in the rough jacket of the -gondolier, I ennobled my life twice over, and raised myself above all -false social grandeurs. My conscience, my dignity, seemed to me the -conscience and dignity of the common people; by debasing myself I should -have debased the common people. "<i>Carbonari</i>! <i>carbonari</i>!" I -exclaimed, "I will be worthy to be one of you." The cult of deliverance is -a new cult; liberalism is a religion which should ennoble its followers, -and, like Christianity in its early days, make the slave a free man, the -free man a saint or a martyr. -</p> -<p> -I wrote the following letter to Princess Grimani: -</p> - -<blockquote><p> -"SIGNORA: -</p> -<p> -"The signorina has been exposed to great danger. Why did you, a loving -and fearless mother, consent to send her away from you? Is she not at an -age when any accident may decide a woman's future—a glance or a -breath? Is not this the time when you should watch over her every -instant, night and day alike, fathom her troubles, however slight, and -count the pulsations of her heart? For you, signora, who are so gentle -and so condescending in small things, but in great crises can always -find in your heart so much vigor and resolution, the moment has come -when you should display the courage of the lioness, who will not allow -her little ones to be taken from her. Come, signora, come; take your -daughter back, and do not let her quit you again. Why do you leave her -in strange hands, subjected to injudicious guidance, which irritates her -and would drive her into serious errors, if she were not your -daughter—if it were possible for the seeds of virtue and of -dignity planted in her breast by you to become the plaything of the -first breeze that blows! Open your eyes; see how your child's legitimate -and sacred inclinations are being thwarted, until you are in danger of -seeing her resist wise counsels, and contract a habit of independence -which it will be impossible to overcome. Do not permit a husband whom -she detests to be forced upon her, and look to it that her aversion for -him does not spur her on to make a rash and even more deplorable choice. -Assure her liberty. Let her only chains be her anxiety concerning your -enlightened love, lest, distrusting your energy in her behalf, she seek -dangerous succor in her imagination. In heaven's name, come! -</p> -<p> -"And if you wish to know, signora, by what right I address this appeal -to you, I will tell you that I have seen your daughter without knowing -her name; that I have been on the verge of falling in love with her; -that I have followed her, watched her, sought her acquaintance; and that -she is not so well guarded that I could not have spoken to her and -exerted—in vain, I doubt not—all the wiles by which an -ordinary woman is seduced. Thank God! your daughter has not even been -exposed to my rash advances. I learned in time that she was the daughter -of the woman whom I venerate and respect above all the world, and from -that moment her place of abode became a sacred spot to me. If I do not -leave the neighborhood instantly, it is that I may be ready to reply to -your most searching questions, if, distrusting my honor, you bid me -appear before you and render an account of my conduct. - -</p> -<p> -"Accept, signora, the humble respects of your devoted slave, -</p> -<p style="margin-left: 60%;">"NELLO."</p> -</blockquote> - -<p> -I sealed this letter, wondering how I could forward it to its address -with the greatest possible speed, and with no danger of its falling into -strange hands. I dared not carry it myself, fearing that Alezia, in her -irritation at learning of my departure, would do something foolish or -desperate. Moreover, it was quite true that I wished to be able to open -my heart completely to her mother when the time should come for me to -confide everything to her; for I foresaw that Alezia would conceal from -her no detail of our little romance, of which I had no right to tell the -whole story except by her order. I feared, too, that the girl's -enthusiasm would so prevail over her mother's weakness with the moving -description of her passion, that the mother would eventually give a -consent which I did not propose to accept. Both needed the help of my -calm and immovable determination, and it might well be that when they -were face to face I should stand in need of the strength they both would -lack. -</p> -<p> -I had reached this point in my reflections when there came a knock at my -door, and a man entered and approached me respectfully. As he had taken -pains to take off his livery, I did not at first recognize him as the -servant who had looked at me so closely on the day of the church -episode; but as we now had plenty of time to scrutinize each other, we -both involuntarily uttered an exclamation of surprise. -</p> -<p> -"It is really you!" he said. "I was not mistaken; you are really Nello?" -</p> -<p> -"Mandola, my old friend!" I cried, and I opened my arms. He hesitated an -instant, then embraced me most heartily, weeping for joy. -</p> -<p> -"I recognized you, but I wanted to make sure; and so, at the first -moment I have had at my disposal, here I am. How does it happen that you -are called Signor Lelio hereabouts, unless you are the famous singer who -is so much talked about at Naples, and whom I have never been to see? -for I always go to sleep at the theatre, you know, and as for music, I -have never been able to understand it. So the signora never makes me go -up to her box till the end of the play." -</p> -<p> -"The signora! oh! tell me about the signora, my old comrade." -</p> -<p> -"I was talking about Signora Alezia, for Signora Bianca never goes to -the theatre now. She has taken a Piedmontese confessor, and she has been -entirely wrapped up in religion since her second marriage. Poor, dear -signora, I am afraid that this husband hardly makes up to her for the -other. Ah! Nello, Nello, why didn't you——" -</p> -<p> -"Hush, Mandola; not a word about that. There are some memories which -ought not to come to our lips any more than the dead should return to -life. Only tell me where your mistress is at this moment, and how I can -send her a letter secretly and without delay." -</p> -<p> -"Is it something of importance to you?" -</p> -<p> -"It is much more important to her." -</p> -<p> -"In that case, give it to me; I will travel by post at full speed, and -deliver it to her at Bologna, where she is now. Didn't you know it?" -</p> -<p> -"No, indeed. So much the better. You can be with her this evening, can't -you?" -</p> -<p> -"Yes, by Bacchus! Poor mistress! how surprised she will be to hear from -you! for you see, Nello, you see, Signor"—— -</p> -<p> -"Call me Nello when we are alone, and Lelio before other people, until -the old Chioggia affair is forgotten altogether." -</p> -<p> -"Oh! I know. Poor Massatone! But that is beginning to die out." -</p> -<p> -"What were you saying about Signora Bianca? That is what I am anxious to -know." -</p> -<p> -"I was saying that she will turn very red and then very pale when I hand -her your letter and whisper: 'This is from Nello! The signora remembers -Nello, who used to sing so well!'—Then she will say to me in a -serious tone, for she is no longer bright and cheerful as she used to -be, poor signora: 'Very well, Mandola, go to the pantry.' And then she -will call me back and say in a sweet tone, for she is just as -kind-hearted as ever: 'Poor Mandola, you must be very tired!—Give -him some of the best wine, Salomé!'" -</p> -<p> -"Salomé!" I cried; "is she married too?" -</p> -<p> -"Oh! she'll never marry. She is just the same, no older nor younger; -never smiling, never shedding a tear, adoring the signora as always, and -forever resisting her; very fond of the signora and always scolding her; -kind-hearted at bottom, but not amiable. Has Signora Alezia recognized -you?" -</p> -<p> -"No, indeed." -</p> -<p> -"I can believe it; I had much difficulty in recognizing you myself. -People change so much! You used to be so small and so slender!" -</p> -<p> -"Oh! not too slender, if I remember aright." -</p> -<p> -"And I," continued Mandola with comical distress, "I was so active and -graceful and quick and merry! Ah! how fast one grows old!" -</p> -<p> -I began to laugh when I saw how men delude themselves concerning their -youthful graces as they advance in years. Mandola was very much the same -Lombard giant that I remembered; he still walked sideways like a vessel -beating to windward, and the constant balancing of the gondola as he -rowed at the stern had caused him to contract the habit of standing on -one leg at a time. You would have said that he was always suspicious of -the level ground and was waiting for a wave to come to change his -position. I had much difficulty in shortening our interview; he took -great delight in it, and I derived a sort of sorrowful pleasure from -hearing of that home where my heart had been thrown open to poesy, art, -love and honor. I could not restrain a secret thrill of joy, overflowing -with emotion and gratitude, when the honest Lombard told me of Bianca's -long continued melancholy after my departure, her impaired health, her -secret tears, her languor, her distaste for life. Then she had recovered -her animation. A new love had touched her heart. A very charming man, of -decidedly ill-repute, a sort of aristocratic adventurer, had sought her -hand in marriage; she had been within an ace of believing in him. Being -warned in time, she had shuddered at the dangers to which her peace of -mind and dignity were exposed by her isolation; above all she had -shuddered for her daughter, and she had fallen back upon religion. -</p> -<p> -"But her marriage to Prince Grimani?" I said inquiringly. -</p> -<p> -"Oh! that was the confessor's work." -</p> -<p> -"Well, there is such a thing as fatality, no one can escape it. Off with -you, Mandola; here is some money, and here is the letter. Don't lose an -instant, and don't return to the Grimani villa until you have spoken to -me; for I have some important suggestions to make to you." -</p> -<p> -He left me. I threw myself on my bed and was just falling asleep when I -heard the rapid footsteps of a horse in the garden upon which my window -looked. I wondered whether it was Mandola returning because he had -forgotten a part of his instructions. I overcame my fatigue and went to -the window. But, instead of Mandola, I saw a woman in a riding habit, -with her head covered with a thick black crêpe mantle which fell over -her shoulders and concealed her whole figure as well as her face. She -was riding a superb horse, steaming with sweat; and, leaping to the -ground before her groom had found time to assist her, she talked in a -very low tone to old Cattina, who had hurried to meet her, impelled by -curiosity much more than by zeal. I trembled as I thought who it might -be, who it must be; and, cursing the imprudence of such a proceeding, I -hastily dressed. When I was ready, as Cattina did not come to notify me, -I rushed out into the hall, fearing that the reckless visitor might -remain on the stoop exposed to some inquisitive eye. But I found Cattina -at the foot of the steps, returning to her work after showing the -stranger into the house. -</p> -<p> -"Where is that lady?" I inquired eagerly. -</p> -<p> -"That lady!" repeated the old woman, "what lady, my <i>blessed</i> Signor -Lelio?" -</p> -<p> -"What trick are you trying to play on me, you old fool? Didn't I see a -lady dressed in black come in, and didn't she ask to speak to me?" -</p> -<p> -"No, as I believe in baptism, Signor Lelio. The lady asked for Signora -Checchina, and didn't mention your name. She put this half-sequin in my -hand and bade me keep her presence a secret <i>from the other people in -the house</i>. That's just what she said." -</p> -<p> -"Did you see the lady, Cattina?" -</p> -<p> -"I saw her dress and her veil, and a great lock of black hair that had -got loose and fell on a beautiful hand, and two great eyes that shone -behind the lace like two lamps behind a curtain." -</p> -<p> -"Where did you put her?" -</p> -<p> -"In Signora Checchina's small salon, while the signora is dressing to -receive her." -</p> -<p> -"Very well, Cattina; keep your mouth shut, since she bade you." -</p> -<p> -I was uncertain whether it was Alezia who had come to confide in -Checchina. If so, it was my duty to prevent her, at any price, from -remaining in that house, where every instant of her stay might -contribute to the ruin of her reputation; but if it were not she, what -right had I to go and question a person who, doubtless, had some very -serious motive for concealing her actions in this way? I had been unable -from my window to judge of the height of that veiled woman, because our -respective positions were such that I could see only the top of her -head. I had scrutinized the groom as he led the horses to a clump of -trees which his mistress pointed out to him. I had never seen his face -before; but that was no reason why he might not belong to the Grimani -establishment, for I certainly had not seen all the servants. I disliked -extremely to question him and try to bribe him. I determined to go to -Checchina; I knew what a length of time she required to make the -simplest toilet. She could not have joined her visitor as yet, and I -could reach her bedroom without passing through the small salon. I knew -the secret passage which connected Nasi's apartments with his -mistress's, the villa of Cafaggiolo being a genuine <i>petite maison</i>, -built according to the French style of the 18th century. -</p> -<p> -I found Checchina half-dressed, and making ready with queenly -indifference for this early morning audience. -</p> -<p> -"What does this mean?" she cried, as I entered by way of her alcove. -</p> -<p> -"Just a word, Checchina," I said in her ear. "Send away your maid." -</p> -<p> -"Make haste," she said when we were alone, "for there is someone waiting -for me." -</p> -<p> -"I know it, and that is what I came to speak to you about. Do you know -this woman who has requested an interview with you?" -</p> -<p> -"How do I know? She refused to tell my maid her name, and at that I sent -word to her that I was not in the habit of receiving people whom I did -not know, at seven o'clock in the morning; but she wouldn't be refused, -and she begged Teresa so earnestly—indeed it is probable that she -gave her money in order to enlist her in her interest—that the -girl came and bothered me to death, and I backed down; but not without -the greatest reluctance to get up so early, for I read of the loves of -Angélique and Médor far into the night." -</p> -<p> -"Listen, Checchina; I think that this woman is—the one you know -about." -</p> -<p> -"Oh! do you think so? In that case, go and join her. I understand why -she asked for me, and why you came here by the secret passage. I will be -close-mouthed, and delighted to go to sleep again, and you will be the -happiest of men." -</p> -<p> -"No, my dear Francesca, you are mistaken. If I had arranged an -assignation under your auspices, be very sure that I would have asked -your permission. But I have not reached that stage, and my romance is -drawing to a conclusion—to the least ardent and most moral of -conclusions. But this young woman is ruined unless you come to her -assistance. Do not listen to any of the romantic projects which she has -come here to confide to you; send her away at once; make her return to -her people instantly. If by any chance she asks to speak to me in your -presence, say that I am absent and shall not return during the day." -</p> -<p> -"What, Lelio! you are no more ardent than this, and she makes a fool of -herself for you! The deuce! That is what comes of being conceited—one -always succeeds. But suppose you are mistaken, <i>cugino</i>? Suppose this -beautiful adventuress turns out to be not your Dulcinea, but one of the -poor girls with whom every country swarms, who want to go on the stage -in order to escape from cruel parents? Look you, I have an inspiration. -Let us go into the small salon together. If we push the screen before -the door as we go in, you can creep in with me, keep out of sight, and -see and hear everything. If this woman is your mistress, it is important -that you should know at once just what is in the wind; and as I should -have to repeat to you word for word what she says to me, it will be a -much shorter way for you to hear it yourself." -</p> -<p> -I hesitated, and yet I was sorely tempted to follow that bad advice. -</p> -<p> -"But suppose it is some other woman," I objected; "suppose she has some -secret to tell you?" -</p> -<p> -"Have you and I any secrets from each other?" said Checchina; "and have -you less regard for yourself than I have for you? Come, no absurd -scruples; come!" -</p> -<p> -She called Teresa, said a few words in her ear, and, when the screen was -arranged, dismissed her and led me into the salon. I had not been in -hiding two minutes before I found a break in the screen through which I -could see the mysterious lady. She had not raised her veil, but I -recognized Alezia's graceful figure and beautiful hands. -</p> -<p> -The poor child was trembling in every limb. I pitied her and blamed her; -for the apartment in which we were was not decorated in the most chaste -style, and the antique bronzes and marble statuettes which embellished -it, although selected with exquisite taste as works of art, were by no -means suited to attract the glances of an enamored girl or a modest -woman. And as I reflected that it was Alezia Aldini who had dared to -find her way into that heathen temple, I was, in spite of myself, more -hurt than grateful for her action, because I still loved her a little. -</p> -<p> -Checchina, although she had dressed hurriedly, had omitted nothing to -accomplish the object so dear to women, of dazzling persons of their own -sex by the splendor of their costume. She had thrown over her shoulders -a cashmere <i>robe de chambre</i>, at that time a very rare object; she had -surrounded her dishevelled hair with a net of gold and purple, for the -antique was fashionable then; and over her bare legs, which were as -strong and as beautifully moulded as those of a statue of Diana, she had -drawn a sort of buskin of tiger's skin, which ingeniously supplied the -place of the commonplace slipper. She had covered her fingers with -diamonds and cameos, and held her brilliant fan like a stage sceptre, -while the stranger, to keep herself in countenance, played awkwardly -with her own, which was of simple black satin. She was visibly dismayed -by Checca's beauty,—beauty of a somewhat masculine type, but -incontestable. With her Turkish gown, her Median footwear, and her Greek -head-dress, she must have resembled the wives of the old satraps who -decked themselves out with the plunder of foreign nations. -</p> -<p> -She saluted her guest with a patronizing air bordering on impertinence; -then, reclining carelessly on an ottoman, assumed the most Grecian -attitude that she could invent. All this pantomime produced its due -effect: the girl was utterly bewildered, and dared not break the -silence. -</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>ALEZIA VISITS CHECCHINA.</i></p> -<p class="smaller"> -"<i>Well, signora or signorina," said Checca, slowly -unfolding her fan, "for I haven't the slightest idea -with whom I have the pleasure of speaking—I am -at your service.</i>"</p> -</div></div> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -"Well, signora or signorina," said Checca, slowly unfolding her fan, -"for I haven't the slightest idea with whom I have the pleasure of -speaking—I am at your service." -</p> -<p> -Thereupon the stranger, in a clear and somewhat metallic voice, with a -very pronounced English accent, replied thus: -</p> -<p> -"Pray pardon me, signora, for disturbing you so early in the morning, -and accept my thanks for your kindness in receiving me. My name is -<i>Barbara Tempest</i>, and I am the daughter of an English nobleman who has -been living in Florence for a short time. My parents are having me take -music lessons, and I have already acquired some talent; but I had a most -excellent teacher who has gone to Milan, and my parents want me now to -take lessons of that stupid Tosani, who will disgust me with the art -with his antiquated method and his absurd cadenzas. I have heard that -Signor Lelio—whom I heard several times at Naples—was coming to this -neighborhood, and that he had hired this house, the owner of which I -know, for the season. I have an irresistible desire to take lessons of -that famous singer, and I asked leave of my parents, who consented; but -they have spoken about it to several people, and have been told that -Signor Lelio is a man of a very proud and somewhat eccentric character, -that, in addition, he is associated with what they call <i>charbonnerie</i>, -I believe, that is to say he has taken an oath to exterminate all the -rich and all the nobles, and that he detests them all. He doesn't miss -an opportunity, so my father was told, to show his aversion to them, and -if he ever, by any chance, consents to do them a service, to sing at -their parties, or give lessons in their families, he doesn't do it until -he has made them implore him in the most humble terms. If they prove to -him, by very earnest appeals, how highly they esteem his talent and his -person, he yields and becomes amiable; but if they treat him as an -ordinary artist, he refuses sharply, and is not sparing of his mockery. -This, signora, is what my parents have heard, and it is what they fear; -for they are a little vain of their name and their social position. For -my own part, I have no prejudices, and I have such profound admiration -for talent, that there is no price that I would not pay to obtain from -Signor Lelio the favor of being his pupil. -</p> -<p> -"I have very often said to myself that if I could only have an -opportunity to speak to him, he certainly would grant my request. But -not only am I not likely to have an opportunity to meet him, but it -would not be proper for a young woman to accost a young man. I was -thinking about it this morning as I was riding. In my country, you know, -signora, young ladies go out alone, and ride out attended by their -servants. So I ride early in the morning, to avoid the heat of the day, -which seems very terrible to us northern people. As I was passing this -pretty house, I asked a servant whom it belonged to. When I learned that -it was Count Nasi's, who is a friend of my family, I asked if Signor -Lelio had arrived, knowing that the count had let it to him. 'Not yet,' -was the reply; 'but his wife came on ahead to prepare the house for him; -she is a very kind and beautiful lady.' Thereupon, signora, it came into -my head to call upon you and interest you in my desire, so that you -might give me the benefit of your powerful influence with your husband, -and induce him to grant the request of my parents when they present it. -May I ask you also, signora, to be kind enough to keep my little secret -and to ask Signor Lelio to do the same? for my family would blame me -severely for taking this step, although it is, as you see, perfectly -innocent." -</p> -<p> -She pronounced this harangue with such genuinely British volubility, -jerking out her words, cutting short the long syllables, and drawling -over the short ones, her Anglicisms were so natural and amusing, that I -no longer believed that prudish yet reckless young lady to be Alezia. -Checchina, for her part, thought of nothing but making merry over her -eccentric performance. I would gladly have retired, as I was hardly in a -mood to enjoy that amusement; but the slightest sound would have -betrayed my presence and struck terror to Miss Barbara's guileless -heart. -</p> -<p> -"Really, miss," Checchina replied, concealing a strong desire to laugh -behind a phial of essence of rose, "your request is most embarrassing, -and I don't know how to answer it. I will admit that I have not the -influence over Signor Lelio which you are pleased to attribute to me." -</p> -<p> -"Can it be that you are not his wife?" inquired the young Englishwoman -artlessly. -</p> -<p> -"Oh! miss, to think of a young lady having such ideas!" exclaimed -Checchina assuming a prudish air that sat most awkwardly upon her. "Fie, -fie! Does custom permit young ladies in England to make such -suppositions?" -</p> -<p> -Poor Barbara was altogether bewildered. -</p> -<p> -"I do not know whether my question was insulting," she rejoined in a -trembling but resolute voice; "I certainly did not so intend it. You -could not live with Signor Lelio without committing a crime unless you -were his wife. You might, perhaps, be his sister—That is all I wanted -to say, signora." -</p> -<p> -"And might I not be neither his wife, nor his sister, nor his mistress, -but be living in my own house? May I not be Countess Nasi?" -</p> -<p> -"O signora," replied Barbara ingenuously, "I know that Signor Nasi is -not married." -</p> -<p> -"He may be secretly, miss." -</p> -<p> -"It must be very recently then; for he asked for my hand not more than a -fortnight ago." -</p> -<p> -"Ah! it was you, was it, signorina?" cried Checchina with a tragic -gesture which caused her fan to fall. There was a moment's silence. Then -the young stranger, being determined to break it at any price, seemed to -make a great effort, left her chair and picked up the singer's fan. She -handed it to her with charming grace, and said in a caressing tone which -made her foreign accent even more appealing: -</p> -<p> -"You will have the kindness to mention me to your brother, will you not, -signora?" -</p> -<p> -"You mean my husband?" rejoined Checchina, accepting her fan with a -mocking air and eyeing the young Englishwoman with malevolent curiosity. -The visitor fell back in her chair as if she had received her death -blow; and Checchina, who detested society women and took a savage joy in -crushing them when she was brought into rivalry with them, added as she -surveyed herself absent-mindedly in the mirror over the ottoman: -</p> -<p> -"Look you, my dear Miss Barbara. I wish you well; for you seem to me a -charming person. But you should have told me the truth: I fear that it -is not love of art which brings you here, but a sort of a fancy for -Lelio. He has unconsciously inspired many romantic passions during his -life, and I know as many as ten boarding-school misses who are wild over -him." -</p> -<p> -"Never fear, signora," retorted the English girl, with an Italian accent -which gave me a shock, "I could never have the slightest feeling for a -married man; and when I entered this house I knew that you were Signor -Lelio's wife." -</p> -<p> -Checchina was a little disconcerted by the firm and contemptuous tone of -this retort; but, being determined to force her to the last extremity, -she soon recovered herself, and said with a studied smile, and with -redoubled impertinence: -</p> -<p> -"Dear Barbara, you set my mind at rest, and I believe that you are too -noble-minded to wish to rob me of Lelio's heart; but I cannot conceal -from you that I have one wretched failing. I am of a frantically jealous -disposition and everything arouses my suspicions. You are lovelier than -I, perhaps, and I am much afraid that it is so, judging from the pretty -foot which I see and the great eyes which I divine. You will be -indifferent to Lelio, since he belongs to me, for you are high-spirited -and generous: but Lelio may fall in love with you; you will not be the -first one who has turned his head. He is a fickle creature; his blood -kindles for every pretty woman he meets. So pray be kind enough, dear -Signora Barbara, to raise your veil, so that I may see what I have to -fear, and, to use the French phrase, whether I can safely expose Lelio -to the fire of your batteries." -</p> -<p> -The English girl made a gesture of disgust, then seemed to hesitate; and -at last, drawing herself up to her full height, she replied, beginning -to detach her veil: -</p> -<p> -"Look at me, signora, and remember my features, so that you may describe -them to Signor Lelio; and if, as he listens to your description, he -seems moved, do not by any means send him to me; for, if he should be -faithless to you, I declare that it would be a most unfortunate thing -for him, and that he would obtain nothing but contempt from me." -</p> -<p> -As she was speaking, she uncovered her face. Her back was turned toward -me, and I tried in vain to see her features in the mirror. But what need -had I of the testimony of my eyes? was not that of my ears sufficient? -She had entirely forgotten her English accent and spoke the purest -Italian in that resonant, vibrating voice which had so often moved me to -the very depths of my being. -</p> -<p> -"I beg your pardon, miss," said Checchina, in nowise discomposed, "you -are so lovely that all my fears are revived. I cannot believe that Lelio -has not seen you already, and that you and he are not acting in concert -to deceive me." -</p> -<p> -"If he asks you my name," exclaimed Alezia, violently pulling out one of -the long pins of burnished steel that held the folds of her veil in -place, "give him this from me, and tell him that my crest bears a pin -with this motto: 'For the heart in which there is no blood!'" -</p> -<p> -At that moment, unable to rest under the burden of such contempt, I -suddenly emerged from my hiding-place and rushed toward Alezia with a -self-assured air. -</p> -<p> -"No, signora," I said, "do not believe my friend Francesca's jests. This -is all a comedy which she has enjoyed playing, taking you for what you -chose to appear, and unaware of the importance of her falsehoods; it is -a comedy which I have allowed her to play thus far because I hardly -recognized you, you imitated so cleverly the accent and manners of an -Englishwoman." -</p> -<p> -Alezia seemed neither surprised nor moved by my appearance. She -maintained the calmness and dignity in which women of rank surpass all -other women when they are in the right. One who had seen her impassive -features, lighted up little by little by a charming smile of irony, -might well have believed that her heart had never known passion, and was -incapable of knowing it. -</p> -<p> -"So you think that I have played my part well, signor?" she retorted; -"that will prove to you that I had some vocation for the profession -which you ennoble by your talents and your virtues. I thank you with all -my heart for having arranged an opportunity for me to act before you, -and I thank the signora, who has been kind enough to give me my cue. But -I am already disgusted with this sublime art. One must carry into it a -fund of experience which it would cost me too much to acquire, and a -strength of mind of which you alone in all the world are capable." -</p> -<p> -"No, signora, you are in error," I replied firmly. "I have no experience -of evil, and I have no strength except to repel degrading suspicions. I -am neither the husband nor the lover of Francesca. She is my friend, my -adopted sister, the discreet and devoted confidante of all my feelings, -and yet she does not know who you are, although she is as devoted to you -as to myself." -</p> -<p> -"I declare, signora," said Francesca, seating herself in a more becoming -attitude, "that I have very little idea what is going on here, and why -Lelio has allowed you to form such suspicions, when it was so easy for -him to destroy them. What he has just said to you is the truth, and you -do not imagine, I trust, that I would lend myself to an attempt to -deceive you, if I were anything more than a placid and entirely -unselfish friend to him." -</p> -<p> -Alezia began to tremble in every limb, as if she had an attack of fever, -and she resumed her seat, pale and thoughtful. She was still in doubt. -</p> -<p> -"You were very cruel to her, cousin," I whispered to Checchina. "You -took delight in inflicting pain on a pure heart, in order to avenge your -foolish self-esteem. Ought you not to thank your rival, since she -refused Nasi?" -</p> -<p> -Kind-hearted Checca went to her, took her hands familiarly, and sat on a -hassock at her feet. -</p> -<p> -"My sweet angel," she said, "do not be suspicious of us; you know -nothing of the honorable and attractive freedom of Bohemian life. In -your social circle we are slandered, and our best actions are called -crimes. As you have allowed Lelio to love you, it must be that you do -not share those unjust prejudices. Be sure, therefore, that, unless I am -the very vilest of creatures, I cannot conspire with Lelio to deceive -you. I can hardly understand what pleasure or profit I could derive from -it. So let your mind be at rest, my pretty signora. Forgive me for -extorting your secret from you by my foolish jesting. You must agree -that if we had allowed the signora marchesina to make sport of us -actors, it would not have been in the natural order of things. However, -it is all very fortunate, and it was an excellent and brave idea of -yours. You might have retained your suspicions and suffered a long time, -while now you are completely reassured, are you not, <i>marchesina mia</i>? -And you believe that my heart is too big to betray you in such fashion, -don't you? Now, my dear love, you must go back to your parents, and -Lelio will go and see you whenever you choose. Never fear, I will send -him to you myself, and I will see that he doesn't give you any more -cause for grief. Ah! <i>poverina</i>, men are in the world to drive women to -despair, and the best of them is not equal to the worst of us. You are a -poor child, who do not know as yet what suffering is. It will come only -too soon if you abandon your heart to the torments of love, <i>oimè</i>!" -</p> -<p> -Francesca said many other things full of kindliness and good sense. -While Alezia was somewhat offended by her artless familiarity, she was -touched by her kindness of heart and won over by her perfect frankness. -She did not respond to Checca's caresses, but great tears rolled slowly -down her pale cheeks. At last her heart fairly overflowed, and she threw -herself, sobbing bitterly, into her new friend's arms. -</p> -<p> -"O Lelio!" she said, "will you forgive me for insulting you by such a -suspicion? Attribute it solely to my unhealthy state of mind and body -for the last few days. It was Lila who, thinking that she could cure me -in that way, and wishing to prevent me from doing what she calls a crazy -thing, confided to me last night that you were living here with a very -beautiful woman, who was not your sister, as she had believed at first, -but your wife or your mistress. You can imagine that I couldn't close my -eyes; I revolved in my brain the most tragic and most extravagant -projects. At last I concluded that Lila might be mistaken, and I -determined to learn the truth for myself. At daybreak, while the poor -girl, overcome by fatigue, lay sleeping on the floor in my bedroom, I -stole out on tiptoe. I called the most stupid and blindly submissive of -my aunt's servants, and ordered him to saddle my cousin Hector's horse, -which is very high-spirited, and has nearly thrown me a dozen times. But -what did I care for my life? I said to myself: 'Alas! everyone is not -killed who wants to be!' and I started for Cafaggiolo, without any idea -what I was going to do here. On the way, I invented the story I ventured -to tell the signora. Oh! I beg her to forgive me! I wanted to find out -if she loved you, Lelio; if you loved her, if she had any rights over -you, if you were deceiving me. Forgive me, both of you. You are so kind; -you will forgive me and love me too, won't you, signora?" -</p> -<p> -"Dear <i>Madonetta</i>! I love you already with all my heart," replied -Checchina, throwing her long bare arms about her neck, and hugging her -until she nearly suffocated her. -</p> -<p> -I was anxious to put an end to this scene and to send Alezia back to her -aunt. I begged her to expose herself to no further risk, and I rose to -order her horse; but she detained me, saying vehemently: -</p> -<p> -"What are you thinking about, Lelio? Send the servant and horses back to -my aunt. Order a post-chaise, and let us go at once. Your friend will be -kind enough to go with us. We will go to my mother, and I will throw -myself at her feet and say: 'I am compromised, I am ruined in the eyes -of the world; I ran away from my aunt's in broad daylight, without -concealment. It is too late to repair the injury I have inflicted upon -myself voluntarily and deliberately. I love Lelio and he loves me; I -have given him my life. I have nobody left on earth but him and you. -Will you curse me?'" -</p> -<p> -This determination threw me into the most horrible perplexity. I argued -with her to no purpose. She was annoyed by my scruples, accused me of -not loving her, and appealed to Francesca's judgment. Francesca -suggested going with Alezia to her mother, without me. I tried to induce -Alezia to return to her aunt, to write to her mother from there, and to -await her reply before deciding upon anything. I solemnly promised to -have no more conscientious scruples if the mother consented; but I was -not willing to compromise the daughter; that was a detestable deed which -I implored Alezia to spare me. Her reply was that, if she wrote, her -mother would show the letter to Prince Grimani, and he would have her -shut up in a convent. -</p> -<p> -At the height of this discussion, Lila, whom Cattina strove in vain to -detain on the stairs, rushed impetuously into our midst, purple in the -face, breathless, almost fainting. It was several minutes before she -could speak. At last she told us in broken phrases, that she had -outstripped Signor Ettore Grimani, whose horse luckily enough was lame, -and could not jump the quickset hedges between the fields; but that he -was behind her, that he had inquired all the way along what road Alezia -had taken, and that he would arrive very soon. Through his means, the -whole Grimani establishment was informed of the signora's flight. The -aunt had tried to make inquiries quietly and to impose silence on -Hector's frantic outcries, but all to no purpose. He was making so much -noise about it that the whole province would be aware before night of -his humiliating position and of the signora's risky performance, unless -she herself set things to rights by going to meet him, closing his -mouth, and returning to Villa Grimani with him. I agreed with Lila. -Alezia could make her cousin do whatever she chose. Nothing was -irreparable as yet, if she would mount her horse and return to her aunt; -she could take a different road from that by which Hector was coming, -and we would send somebody to meet him and throw him off the scent and -prevent him from coming to Cafaggiolo. But it was all useless. Alezia's -resolution was immovable. -</p> -<p> -"Let him come," she said, "let him enter the house, and if he dares to -come as far as this we will throw him out of the window." -</p> -<p> -Checchina laughed like a madwoman at that idea, and upon hearing -Alezia's satirical description of her cousin, she undertook to get rid -of him unaided. All this boasting and insane merriment at such a crisis -grieved me beyond measure. -</p> -<p> -Suddenly a post-chaise appeared at the end of the long avenue lined with -fig-trees leading from the main road to Nasi's villa. -</p> -<p> -"It's Nasi!" cried Checchina. -</p> -<p> -"Suppose it is Bianca!" I thought. -</p> -<p> -"Oh!" cried Lila, "here comes the signora, your aunt in person, to fetch -you." -</p> -<p> -"I will resist my aunt as stoutly as my cousin," replied Alezia; "for -they are treating me shamefully. They mean to publish my shame, to -overwhelm me with chagrin and humiliation, in order to conquer me. Hide -me, Lelio, or protect me." -</p> -<p> -"Have no fear," I replied; "if that is the way they propose to act -toward you, no one shall come into this house. I will go and receive the -signora, your aunt, at the door, and as it is too late for you to go -out, I swear that no one shall come in." -</p> -<p> -I ran hastily down stairs; I found Cattina listening at the door. I -threatened to kill her, if she said a word; then, reflecting that no -fear was sufficiently powerful to prevent her from yielding to the power -of gold, I changed my mind, retraced my steps, and, taking her by the -arm, pushed her into a sort of store-room which had only a small round -window which she could not reach; I locked the door on her in spite of -her anger, put the key in my pocket, and ran down to meet the -post-chaise. -</p> -<p> -Of all the possibilities that we dreaded, the most embarrassing was -realized. Nasi alighted from the carriage and threw himself on my neck. -How could I prevent him from entering his own house, how conceal from -him what was going on? It was a simple matter to prevent his betraying -Alezia's <i>incognito</i>, by telling him that a woman had come to his house -to see me, and that I requested him as a favor not to try to see her. -But the day would not pass without his hearing of Alezia's flight and -the confusion into which the Grimani household had been thrown. A week -would suffice to make it known all over the country. I really did not -know what to do. Nasi, being entirely at a loss to understand my -perturbed air, began to be uneasy and to fear that Checchina, in wrath -or in desperation, had indulged in some insane freak. He rushed -upstairs; his hand was already on the knob of Checchina's door, when I -held his arm, saying with the utmost gravity that I begged him not to go -in. -</p> -<p> -"What does this mean, Lelio?" he said in a trembling voice, and turning -pale; "Francesca is here and doesn't come to meet me; you receive me -with an icy manner, and you try to prevent me from entering my -mistress's apartment! And yet it was you who wrote me to return to her, -and you seemed desirous to reconcile us; what is happening between you -two?" -</p> -<p> -I was about to answer when the door opened and Alezia appeared, covered -by her veil. When she saw Nasi she started, then stopped. -</p> -<p> -"I understand now, I understand," said Nasi, with a smile; "a thousand -pardons, my dear Lelio! tell me to what room I shall go." -</p> -<p> -"This way, signor!" said Alezia, in a firm voice, taking his arm and -leading him into the boudoir from which she had just came, and where -Francesca and Lila still were. I followed her. Checchina, when she saw -the count, assumed her most savage air, the same which she assumed in -the rôle of Arsace, when she sang the soprano part in Bianchi's -<i>Semiramis</i>. Lila stood at the door to forestall any more visits, and -Alezia, putting aside her veil, said to the stupefied count: -</p> -<p> -"Signor count, you asked my hand in marriage a fortnight ago. The short -time during which I had the pleasure of seeing you at Naples was -sufficient to give me a more favorable idea of you than of any other of -my suitors. My mother wrote, imploring, almost commanding me to accept -your offer. Prince Grimani added, by way of postscript, that, if I -really felt any aversion for my cousin Hector, he would allow me to -return to my mother, on condition that I would instantly accept you for -my husband. According to my reply, they were either to come and take me -to Venice to meet you, or to leave me at my aunt's house with my cousin -for an indefinite period. Very good! despite my aversion for my cousin, -despite the constant teasing and pestering of my aunt, despite my ardent -longing to see my darling mother and my dear Venice once more, and -despite my very great esteem for you, signor count, I refused. You -probably thought that I preferred my cousin.—Look!" she said, -interrupting herself and glancing calmly toward the window, "there he -is, actually riding his horse into your garden. Stay, Signor Lelio!" she -added, grasping my arm as I rushed to the door to leave the room; "you -will surely agree that at this moment there shall be no other will here -than mine. Stand with Lila in front of that door until I have finished -speaking." -</p> -<p> -I put Lila aside and kept the door in her place. Alezia continued: -</p> -<p> -"I refused, signor count, because I could not loyally accept your -honorable proposal. I replied to the obliging letter which you enclosed -with my mother's." -</p> -<p> -"Yes, signora," said the count, "you replied in a kindly tone by which I -was deeply touched; but with a frankness which left me no hope; and I -have come into your neighborhood not with the purpose of annoying you -further, but of being your devoted friend and humble servant, if you -ever deign to appeal to my sentiment of respect." -</p> -<p> -"I know it, and I rely upon you," said Alezia, offering him her hand -with a nobly sympathetic air. "The time has come, sooner than you can -have anticipated, to put your generous sentiments to the proof. My -reason for refusing your hand was that I love Lelio; my reason for being -here is that I am determined never to marry any man but him." -</p> -<p> -The count was so astounded by this avowal that for several minutes he -was unable to reply. God forbid that I should speak slightingly of -honest Nasi's friendship; but at that moment I saw plainly enough that -among the nobles there is no personal friendship, no amount of devotion, -or esteem, which can entirely eradicate the prejudices of the caste. My -eyes were fixed upon him in the closest scrutiny, and I could read this -thought clearly on his face: "I, Count Nasi, have actually loved and -offered marriage to a woman who is in love with an actor and means to -marry him!" -</p> -<p> -But it was all over in an instant. Dear old Nasi at once resumed his -chivalrous manner.—"Whatever you have determined upon, signora," he -said, "whatever commands you have for me in pursuance of your -determination, I am ready." -</p> -<p> -"Very good," replied Alezia; "I am in your house, signor count, and my -cousin is here, if not to demand my return, at all events to establish -my presence here. He will be offended by my refusal to go with him, and -will not fail to calumniate me, because he has no spirit, no courage, no -education. My aunt will make a pretence of rebuking her son's loss of -temper, and will tell the story of what she will delight to call my -shame to all the pious old women of her acquaintance, who will repeat it -to all Italy. I do not propose to try to stop the scandal either by -useless precautions or by cowardly denials. I have called down the storm -upon my head, let it burst in the sight of the whole world! I shall not -suffer on that account, if, as I hope, my mother's heart remains true to -me, and if, having a husband who is content with my sacrifices, I find -also a friend who has the courage to avow openly the brotherly affection -with which he honors me. As that friend, will you interfere to prevent -any unseemly, <i>impossible</i> explanation between Lelio and my cousin? Will -you go and receive Hector, and inform him that I will not leave this -house except to go to my mother, and with the protection of your arm?" -</p> -<p> -The count looked at Alezia with a grave and sad expression, which seemed -to say to her: "You are the only one here who can understand how strange -and reprehensible and ridiculous the part you are making me play will -appear to the world;" then he knelt gracefully on one knee and kissed -Alezia's hand, which he still held in his, saying: "Signora, I am your -true knight in life or in death." Then he came to me and embraced me -heartily, without a word. He forgot to speak to Checchina, who stood -leaning on the window-sill, with folded arms, viewing this scene with -philosophical attention. -</p> -<p> -Nasi made ready to leave the room. I could not endure the thought that -he was about to constitute himself, at his own risk, the champion of the -woman whom I was supposed to have compromised. I insisted upon -accompanying him at all events, and taking half of the responsibility on -myself. To deter me he gave me divers excellent reasons taken from the -code of fashionable society. I did not understand them in the least; -indeed I was carried away at that moment by the wrath aroused in my -heart by Hector's insolence and his dastardly purpose. Alezia tried to -calm me by saying: "You have no rights as yet except such as I please to -bestow on you." I obtained permission to accompany Nasi, and thus make -my presence known to Hector Grimani, on condition that I should not say -a word without the count's permission. -</p> -<p> -We found the cousin just dismounting, panting heavily and drenched with -perspiration. He cursed at the poor beast in the most vulgar way, and -struck him violently because, being unshod and having bruised his feet -on the road, he had not galloped fast enough to satisfy his master's -impatience. It seemed to me that this beginning and Hector's whole -manner showed that he did not know how to extricate himself from the -position in which he had recklessly placed himself. He must either show -himself a hero by force of love and frantic jealousy, or cut an absurd -figure by a display of cowardly insolence. His embarrassment was made -complete by the fact that he had enlisted two young friends of his who -were going out to hunt, and had insisted on accompanying him, not so -much to assist him, probably, as to amuse themselves at his expense. -</p> -<p> -We walked up to him without saluting him, and Nasi looked him in the -eye, with a cold stare, without a word. He seemed not to see me, or not -to recognize me. -</p> -<p> -"Ah! is it you, Nasi?" he said, hesitating whether he should raise his -hat or offer his hand; for he saw that Nasi was not disposed to offer -him any sort of greeting. -</p> -<p> -"You have no cause for surprise, it seems to me, because you find me in -my own house," replied Nasi. -</p> -<p> -"Pardon me, pardon me," replied Hector, pretending that his spur had -caught on a superb rose-bush by which they were standing, and which he -crushed with his whole might. "I did not at all expect to find you here; -I thought you were at Naples." -</p> -<p> -"It makes little difference what you thought. You are here, and so am I. -What is the difficulty?" -</p> -<p> -"Why, my dear fellow, I want you to help me find my cousin Alezia, who -has the assurance to go out alone on horseback, without my mother's -permission, and who is somewhere about here, so I am told." -</p> -<p> -"What do you mean by <i>somewhere about here</i>? If you think that the young -lady you mention is in this neighborhood, stick to the street and look -for her." -</p> -<p> -"But deuce take it, my dear fellow, she is here!" said Hector, compelled -by Nasi's tone and by the presence of his witnesses to pronounce himself -a little more clearly. "She is either in your house or in your garden, -for she was seen to ride into your avenue—and, God's blood! there's her -horse now!—my horse, I mean, for it was her good pleasure to take him -for her expedition, and leave her hack for me." And he tried, by a loud, -forced laugh, to enliven an interview which Nasi did not seem disposed -to treat so lightly. -</p> -<p> -"Signor," he replied, "I have not the honor to be sufficiently well -acquainted with you for you to call me <i>my dear fellow</i>. I must ask you, -therefore, to address me as I address you. Furthermore, I will call your -attention to the fact that my house is not a tavern nor my garden a -public promenade, that passers-by should take the liberty to explore -it." -</p> -<p> -"Faith, signor, I am very sorry if you are displeased," said Hector. "I -thought that I knew you well enough to venture to enter your grounds, -and I was not aware that your country house was a fortress." -</p> -<p> -"Such as it is, signor, palace or hovel, I am the master of it, and I -beg you to consider yourself informed that no one is at liberty to enter -it without my permission." -</p> -<p> -"By Bacchus! signor count, you are terribly afraid that I shall ask -leave to enter your house, for you refuse me beforehand with a tartness -which gives me much food for thought. If, as I believe, Alezia Aldini is -in this house, I begin to hope, for her sake, that she came here on your -account. Give me that assurance, and I will go away content." -</p> -<p> -"I do not recognize any man's right to question me on any subject," -rejoined Nasi; "least of all do I recognize your right to question me -concerning a woman to whom your conduct at this moment is a deadly -insult." -</p> -<p> -"Damnation! I am her cousin! She is in my mother's charge. What answer -is my mother to give my uncle, Prince Grimani, when he asks her for his -stepdaughter? And how do you suppose that my mother, who is old and -infirm, is to run about the country after a young madcap who rides like -a dragoon?" -</p> -<p> -"I am certain, signor," retorted Nasi, "that your mother did not -instruct you to search for her niece in such a noisy fashion as this, -and to question everybody you meet in such an unseemly way; for if that -were the case, her anxiety would be more insulting than protecting, and -to place the object of such protection out of reach of your zeal would -be a matter of duty with me." -</p> -<p> -"Very well," said Hector, "I see that you do not propose to give up our -fugitive. You are a knight of the olden time, signor count! Remember -that from this time forth my mother is relieved of all responsibility to -Signora Aldini's mother. You may arrange this unpleasant business as you -think best. For my own part, I wash my hands of it; I have done what I -could and what it was my duty to do. I will simply request you to say to -Alezia Aldini that she is at liberty to marry whomever she pleases, and -that I will interpose no obstacle so far as I am concerned. I yield my -right to you, my dear count. May you never have to seek your wife in -another man's house, for you see by my example what an absurd figure one -cuts under such circumstances." -</p> -<p> -"Many people think, signor count," replied Nasi, "that there is always -some way to dignify the most uncomfortable position, and to compel -respect, however ridiculous one may appear. One does not cut an absurd -figure except as the result of an absurd action." -</p> -<p> -At this severe retort, a significant murmur from his two friends made it -clear to Hector that he could not retreat. -</p> -<p> -"Signor count," he said, "you speak of an absurd action. What do you -call an absurd action, I pray to know?" -</p> -<p> -"You can give my words whatever meaning you please, signor." -</p> -<p> -"You insult me, signor!" -</p> -<p> -"That is for you to say, signor. It is none of my affair." -</p> -<p> -"You will give me satisfaction, I presume?" -</p> -<p> -"Very good." -</p> -<p> -"Your hour?" -</p> -<p> -"Whenever you choose." -</p> -<p> -"To-morrow morning at eight o'clock, on the plain of Maso, if that is -agreeable to you. These gentlemen will be my seconds." -</p> -<p> -"Very good, signor; my friend here will be mine." -</p> -<p> -Hector glanced at me with a disdainful smile, and, leading Nasi aside, -with his two companions, said to him: -</p> -<p> -"Come, come, my dear count, allow me to tell you that this is carrying -the jest too far. Now that it has come to a question of fighting, we -should be serious for a moment, it seems to me. My seconds are gentlemen -of rank: the Marquis de Mazzorbo and Signor de Monteverbasco. I am sure -that you would not associate with them, as your second, this person to -whom I ordered my servant to give twenty francs the other day for tuning -a piano at my mother's house. Really, I cannot stand such a thing. -Yesterday, we discovered that this person has an intrigue with my -cousin, and to-day you tell us that he is your intimate friend. Be good -enough at least to tell us his name." -</p> -<p> -"You are utterly mistaken, signor count. This <i>person</i>, as you call him, -does not tune pianos, and has never set foot in your mother's house. He -is Signor Lelio, one of our greatest artists, and one of the best and -most honorable men whom I know." -</p> -<p> -I had overheard indistinctly the beginning of this conversation, and, -finding that I was the subject of discussion, had walked rapidly toward -the group. When I heard Count Hector speak bluntly of an <i>intrigue</i> with -Alezia, the dissatisfaction which I felt because the battle was being -fought without me changed to indignation, and I determined to make some -one of our adversaries pay for the falseness of my position. I could not -vent my spleen on Count Hector, who had already been insulted by Nasi; -so it was upon Signor de Monteverbasco that the storm fell. That worthy -squire, on learning my name had said simply, with an air of amazement: -</p> -<p> -"The deuce!" -</p> -<p> -I walked up to him, and looked him in the eye with a threatening -expression. -</p> -<p> -"What do you mean by that, signor?" -</p> -<p> -"Why, I said nothing, signor." -</p> -<p> -"I beg your pardon, signor, you said: 'That is still worse.'" -</p> -<p> -"No, signor, I did not say so." -</p> -<p> -"Yes, signor, you did say so." -</p> -<p> -"If you absolutely insist upon it, signor, let us agree that I did say -it." -</p> -<p> -"Ah! you admit it at last. Very good, signor; if you do not consider me -good enough for a second, I shall find a way to compel you to consider -me good enough for an adversary." -</p> -<p> -"Is this a challenge, signor?" -</p> -<p> -"Call it whatever you please, signor. But let me tell you that I don't -remember your name, and that I don't like your face." -</p> -<p> -"It is well, signor; if agreeable to you, we will meet at the same time -and place as these gentlemen." -</p> -<p> -"Agreed. Gentlemen, I have the honor to salute you." -</p> -<p> -Whereupon, Nasi and I returned to the house, after enjoining silence on -the servants. -</p> -<p> -Hector Grimani's conduct on that occasion introduced me to a type of the -men one meets in fashionable society, which I had not before observed. -If it had occurred to me to pass judgment on Hector the first time I had -seen him at Villa Grimani, when he retreated into his cravat and his -nullity in order not to be intolerable to his cousin, I should have said -that he was a weak, harmless, cold, but good-natured youth. Was it -possible that such an insignificant creature could cherish a feeling of -hostility? Could those mechanically refined manners conceal an -instinctive tendency to brutal domination and cowardly resentment? I -would not have believed it; I did not expect to hear him demand -satisfaction of Nasi for his harsh reception; for I thought that he was -more polished and less courageous, and I was astonished to find that, -after being foolish enough to invite such a castigation, he had -sufficient determination to resent it. The fact is that Hector was not -one of those insignificant men who never do good or evil. He was -ill-tempered and presumptuous; but, being conscious of his intellectual -mediocrity, he always allowed himself to be overborne in discussion; -then, spurred on by hatred and vindictiveness, he would insist on -fighting. He fought frequently and always on some insufficient ground, -so that his tardy and obstinate courage did him more harm than good. -</p> -<p> -Before I would allow Nasi to return to Alezia, I took him aside and told -him that everything that had happened had come about against my wish; -that I had never intended to seduce or elope with or marry Signora -Aldini, and that it was my firm determination to part from her instantly -and forever, unless honor made it obligatory upon me to marry her, in -order to repair the harm she had done herself on my account. I desired -Nasi to decide that question. -</p> -<p> -"But before I tell you the whole story," I said, "we must consider the -question that is most urgent at this moment, and take such measures that -our young guest may be compromised as little as possible. I must tell -you one thing that she doesn't know, that her mother will be here -to-morrow evening. I propose to send a man to the first relay station, -so that she may be told to come here directly and join her daughter, -instead of looking for her at Villa Grimani. As soon as I have placed -Signora Alezia in her mother's hands, I trust that everything will be -straightened out; but, until then, what explanation am I to give her of -the extreme reserve with which I propose to treat her?" -</p> -<p> -"The best way," said Nasi, "would be to persuade her to leave here and -go back to her aunt, or, failing that, to go into a convent for -twenty-four hours. I will try to make her understand that her position -here is not tenable." -</p> -<p> -He joined Alezia. But all his excellent arguments were thrown away. -Checca, faithful to her habit of boasting, had told the girl that she -was Nasi's mistress, that the count had left her after a quarrel, and -that it was then that he had proposed for Alezia's hand; but that, being -fully cured by her refusal, and drawn back by an unconquerable passion -to his mistress's feet, he was ready to marry her. So that Alezia -considered that it was perfectly proper for her to be in Nasi's house, -and she was overjoyed to learn that he, like herself, had made up his -mind to yield to the craving of his heart, and to break with public -opinion. She promised herself that she would find in that happy couple -congenial companionship for her whole life and friendship proof against -any trial. She was afraid of my scruples, if she left Nasi's house, and -of the efforts of her family to reconcile her with society. So she -obstinately persisted in ruining herself, and finally informed Nasi that -she would not leave his house unless she was compelled by force to do -so. -</p> -<p> -"In that case, signora," said the count, "you will permit me to take the -course which honor enjoins upon me. I am your brother, as that is your -wish. I accept that rôle with gratitude and resignation, and I have -already acted the part by standing between you and Count Hector's -insolent demands. I shall continue to act in accordance with the -counsels of my respect and devotion; but if a brother's rights do not go -to the extent of ordering his sister to do this thing or that, they -certainly authorize him to put away from her anything that can injure -her reputation. You will allow me therefore to exclude Lelio from this -house until your mother is here, and I have just sent a messenger to -her, so that you will be able to embrace her to-morrow evening." -</p> -<p> -"To-morrow evening?" cried Alezia; "that is too soon. No, I don't want -her to come yet. Happy as I shall be to see my darling mother, I am -determined to have time enough to be compromised in the eyes of society, -and irrevocably ruined in its opinion. I insist upon starting off with -Lelio to meet my mother. When it is known that I have actually travelled -with him, no one will find excuse for me, no one will be able to forgive -me, except my mother." -</p> -<p> -"Lelio will not comply with your desire, my dear sister," replied Nasi; -"he will do just what I advise; for his heart is all delicacy and honor, -and he has made me the final judge." -</p> -<p> -"Very well!" said Alezia, with a laugh; "go and order him, in my name, -to come here." -</p> -<p> -"I will go to him," replied Nasi, "for I see that you are not disposed -to listen to any prudent counsel. And I will go with him and take rooms -for him and myself in the village inn, which you see at the end of the -avenue. If you should be exposed to any fresh outrage on the part of -Signor Ettore Grimani, you have only to signal from your window and ring -the garden bell, and we shall be under arms instantly. But you need have -no fear, he will not return. You can take possession of Lelio's room, -which is much more suitable for you than this one. Your maid will remain -here to wait upon you and bring me your orders, if it is your pleasure -to give me any." -</p> -<p> -Nasi having joined me, and given me an account of this interview, I -opened my heart to him and told him almost everything, but without -mentioning Bianca. I explained to him how I had thoughtlessly become -involved in an adventure, the heroine of which had at first seemed to me -coquettish even to the point of impudence, and how, as I discovered from -day to day the purity of her heart and the moral elevation of her -character, I had been led on in spite of myself to play the part of a -man ready to attempt anything. -</p> -<p> -"Then you do not love Signora Aldini?" said the count, in a tone of -amazement in which I fancied that I could detect a slight touch of -contempt for me. I was not hurt, for I knew that I did not deserve that -contempt; and his esteem for me was restored when he learned how hard I -had fought to remain virtuous, although consumed by love and desire. But -when it became necessary to explain to the count how it happened that I -was so positively determined not to marry Alezia, however indulgent her -mother's heart might prove to be, I was embarrassed. I asked him this -question: whether Alezia's reputation would be so seriously compromised -by what she had done, that it would be my duty to marry her in order to -make her honor whole. The count smiled and replied, taking my hand -affectionately: -</p> -<p> -"My dear Lelio, you do not yet know how much rank idiocy there is in the -social circle in which Alezia was born, nor how much corruption its -stern censorship conceals. Let me tell you, so that you may laugh at -such ideas and despise them as I do, that Alezia, after being seduced by -you in her aunt's house and being your mistress for a year—provided -there had been no noise or scandal about it,—could still make what is -called a good match, and that no great family would close its doors to -her. She would hear more or less whispering about her, and some rigidly -virtuous women would forbid their newly married daughters to become -intimate with her; but she would be all the more popular for that, and -receive all the more attention from the men. But if you should marry -Alezia, even though it should be proved that she had remained pure to -the day of her marriage, she would never be forgiven for being the wife -of an actor. You are one of those men upon whom calumny can gain no -hold. Many sensible persons might think Alezia had made a noble choice, -and done a praiseworthy thing in marrying you; very few would dare say -so aloud, and even if she should become a widow, the doors that had been -closed to her would never be reopened; for she would never find a man in -society who would care to marry her after you; her family would look -upon her as dead, and not even her mother would be allowed to mention -her name. Such is the fate that awaits Alezia if you marry her. Reflect, -and if you are not sure that you still love her, beware of an unhappy -marriage; for it will be impossible for you to give her back to her -family and friends after she has once borne your name. If, on the other -hand, you feel confident that you will always love her, marry her; for -her devotion to you is something sublime, and no man on earth is more -deserving of it than you." -</p> -<p> -I was lost in thought, and the count feared that he had wounded me by -his plain-speaking, despite the complimentary remarks with which he had -tried to soften its bitterness. I reassured him. -</p> -<p> -"That is not what I am thinking about," I said; "I am thinking of -Signora Bianca,—Princess Grimani, I mean,—and of the sorrow that would -make her life a burden if I should marry her daughter." -</p> -<p> -"It would be very bitter, in truth," replied the count; "and if you know -that amiable and charming young woman, you will think twice before -exposing her to the wrath of those arrogant and implacable Grimanis." -</p> -<p> -"I will not expose her to it," I exclaimed earnestly, as if speaking to -myself. -</p> -<p> -"I doubt if that resolution comes from a heart that is very deeply in -love," said the count; "but it comes from a noble and generous heart, -and that is much better. Whatever you may do, I am your friend, and I -will uphold your decision against the whole world." -</p> -<p> -I embraced him, and we passed the rest of the day together at the inn -near by. He made me tell him the whole story again, and the interest -with which he questioned me concerning the most trivial details, the -secret anxiety with which he listened to the narration of the perilous -episode when my virtue had been put to the test, showed me plainly -enough that that noble heart was deeply smitten with Alezia Aldini. -While it made him wince to hear what I had to tell, it was evident to me -that each new proof of courage and devotion which Alezia had given me -quickened his enthusiasm and rekindled his love in spite of him. He -constantly interrupted me to say: "That was fine, Lelio! that was fine! -that was noble of you! If I had been in your place, I should not have -had so much courage! I would commit a thousand follies for that -woman."—And yet, when I gave him my reasons—and I gave them all to -him, without, however, mentioning the love I had once felt for -Bianca—he approved my virtue and resolution; and when I became sad in -spite of myself, he said to me: "Courage, courage! Eighteen or twenty -hours more, and Alezia will be saved. I think that we will treat the -Grimanis to-morrow in such fashion as to take away any desire on their -part to talk about the affair. The princess will take her daughter away, -and some day Alezia will bless you because you were wiser than she; for -love lives but a day, and prejudices have ineradicable roots." -</p> -<p> -We passed several hours of the night putting our affairs in order. Nasi -bequeathed his villa to Checchina in case of emergency. The excellent -creature's behavior toward Alezia had filled the count's generous heart -with esteem and gratitude. -</p> -<p> -When we had finished, we snatched a few hours' sleep, and I awoke at -daybreak. Someone entered my room: it was Checca. -</p> -<p> -"You have made a mistake," I said; "the next room is Nasi's." -</p> -<p> -"I am not looking for him, but for you," she said. "Listen to me: you -mustn't marry this marchesina." -</p> -<p> -"Why not, my dear Francesca?" -</p> -<p> -"I will tell you. Obstacles and dangers kindle her love for you; but she -hasn't so much strength of mind, nor is she so free from prejudices, as -she pretends. She is a kind, charming, lovable creature. Seriously, I -love her with all my heart; but she has told me unconsciously, while -talking with me, more than a hundred things which prove that she thinks -that she is making an enormous sacrifice for you, and that she will -regret it some day unless you appreciate its extent as fully as she -does. And, tell me, can we actors, who are full of perfectly just -prejudices against society, and despise it as much as it despises us, -can we, I say, appreciate such sacrifices? No, no; the day would come, -Lelio, I tell you, when, even though she did not sigh for society, she -would accuse you of ingratitude at the first grievance she had against -you; and it is a pitiful thing for a man to be the bankrupt debtor of -his wife." -</p> -<p> -In three words I told Checca what my plans were with respect to Alezia. -When she saw that I fully agreed with her, she said: -</p> -<p> -"My dear Lelio, I have an idea. This is not the time to think for -ourselves alone, or at all events our thoughts even for ourselves should -be noble thoughts, and such as to assure us a clear conscience for the -future. Nasi loves Alezia. She has not been your mistress; there is no -reason why he should not marry her; he must marry her." -</p> -<p> -I was not altogether sure that Checca was not impelled by a feeling of -jealous disquiet to talk to me in that way, in order to make me talk; -but she continued, giving me no time to reply: -</p> -<p> -"Be sure that what I tell you is true, Lelio; Nasi is wild over her. He -is as melancholy as death. He looks at her with eyes which seem to say: -'If only I were Lelio!' And when he gives me any token of affection, I -can see that he does it from gratitude for what I am doing for her." -</p> -<p> -"Do you really think so, my dear Checca?" I said, marvelling at her -penetration and the great good sense which she displayed on great -occasions, ridiculous as she was in trifles. -</p> -<p> -"I tell you I am sure of it. So they must be married. Let us leave them -together. Let us go away at once." -</p> -<p> -"Let us go to-night; I agree to that," said I; "until then it is -impossible. I will tell you the reason in two or three hours. Go back to -Alezia before she wakes." -</p> -<p> -"Oh! she is not asleep," replied Checca; "she has done nothing but pace -the floor in great agitation all night long. Her maid Lila, who insisted -on sleeping in her room, talks with her from time to time, and irritates -her exceedingly by her remonstrances; for, I warn you, she doesn't -approve of her mistress's love for you. But when she begins to sigh and -say: '<i>Povera Signora Bianca</i>! <i>povera principessa madre</i>!' the fair -Alezia bursts into tears and throws herself sobbing on her bed. At that -the soubrette implores her not to kill her mother with grief. I can hear -all this from my room. <i>Addio</i>; I am going back. If you are fully -decided to decline this marriage, think of my plan, and prepare to lend -a hand to the poor count's love." -</p> -<p> -At eight o'clock in the morning we repaired to the battle-field. Count -Hector handled his sword like Saint-Georges; and it was a good thing for -him that he had had much practice in that detestable kind of argument, -for it was the only kind that he had at his service. Nasi was slightly -wounded; luckily, Hector behaved reasonably well; without apologizing -for his conduct with respect to Nasi, he agreed that he had spoken ill -of his cousin in the first outburst of his anger, and he requested Nasi -to beg her pardon in his behalf. He concluded by asking his two friends -to give him their word of honor to keep the whole affair a profound -secret, and they gave it. As Nasi and I acted as seconds for each other, -he refused to leave the field until I had fought. His servant dressed -his wound on the spot, and the battle between Signor de Monteverbasco -and myself began. I wounded him quite severely, but not mortally, and -when his physician had taken him away in his carriage, Nasi and I -returned to the villa. As he did not wish it to be known at the inn that -he was wounded, he was taken to the summer-house in his garden. -Checchina, being secretly informed of what had taken place, joined us -there, and gave him such care as his condition demanded. When he was -able to show himself, he asked Checchina to tell Alezia that he had had -a fall from his horse; then he appeared and bade her good-morning. But -old Cattina, who had been released, and who, despite the lesson she had -received, could not refrain from prying into everything, in order to -gossip with all the neighbors, knew that we had fought, and had already -told Alezia, who threw herself into the count's arms as soon as he -entered the salon. When she had thanked him with the most effusive -warmth, she asked where I was. In vain did the count reply that I was -under arrest in the summer-house by his order; she persisted in -believing that I was dangerously wounded and that they were trying to -conceal the fact from her. She threatened to go down to the garden to -find out for herself. The count was exceedingly anxious that she should -do nothing imprudent before the servants. He preferred to come after me -and take me to her. Thereupon Alezia, undisturbed by the presence of -Nasi and Checca, reproached me warmly for what she called my exaggerated -scruples. -</p> -<p> -"You cannot love me very much," she said, "since you refuse to assist me -when I am absolutely determined to compromise myself for you." -</p> -<p> -She said the wildest and most loving words to me, but did not once lose -the exquisite instinct of modesty which belongs to all young girls not -absolutely devoid of mind. Checchina, who listened to this dialogue from -an artistic standpoint, was utterly amazed, so she told me afterward, -<i>della parte della marchesina</i>. As for Nasi, a score of times I -surprised his melancholy gaze fixed upon Alezia and myself with -indescribable emotion. -</p> -<p> -Alezia's vehemence became decidedly embarrassing. She called me cold, -constrained; she declared that there was no joy, that is to say, no -frankness in my glance. She took alarm at my conduct, she waxed -indignant at my lack of courage. She was intensely excited, she was as -lovely as Domenichino's sibyl. I was very miserable at that moment, for -my love reawoke, and I realized the full extent of the sacrifice I must -make. -</p> -<p> -A carriage drove into the garden, and we did not hear it, we were -talking so earnestly. Suddenly the door opened and Princess Grimani -appeared. -</p> -<p> -Alezia uttered a piercing shriek and rushed into her mother's arms, who -held her there a long time without speaking; then she fell gasping upon -a chair. Her daughter and Lila knelt at her feet and covered her with -caresses. I do not know what Nasi said to her, nor what she replied as -she pressed his hand. I was rooted to the spot where I stood; I saw -Bianca again after ten years. How changed she was! but how touchingly -beautiful she still seemed to me, despite the loss of her early bloom! -</p> -<p> -Her great blue eyes, sunken in their orbits which tears had deepened, -seemed even softer and sweeter than I remembered them. Her pallor moved -me deeply, and her figure, more slender and slightly bent, seemed to me -better suited to that loving, weary heart. She did not recognize me; and -when Nasi called me by name she seemed surprised; for the name Lelio -told her nothing. At last I decided to speak to her; but she had no -sooner heard the first word than she sprang to her feet, recognizing me -by my voice, and held out her arms to me, crying: -</p> -<p> -"O my dear Nello!" -</p> -<p> -"Nello!" cried Alezia, rising hastily; "Nello the gondolier?" -</p> -<p> -"Did you not know him?" said her mother; "haven't you recognized him -until this moment?" -</p> -<p> -"Ah! I understand," said Alezia in a stifled voice, "I understand why he -cannot love me!" -</p> -<p> -And she fell at full length on the floor in a swoon. -</p> -<p> -I passed the rest of the day in the salon with Nasi and Checca. Alezia -was in bed, wildly hysterical and delirious. Her mother alone was with -her. We were all very melancholy at supper. At last, about ten o'clock, -Bianca came and told us that her daughter was calmer, and that she would -soon return and talk with me. About midnight she returned, and we passed -two hours together, while Nasi and Checca sat with Alezia, who was much -better and had asked to see them. Bianca was as lovely as an angel with -me. Under any other circumstances she might, perhaps, have been -embarrassed by her title of princess and her new social position; but -motherly affection stifled all other feelings. She thought of nothing -but expressing her gratitude to me; she did so in the most flattering -terms and with the most affectionate manner imaginable. She did not seem -to have dreamed for a single instant that I could hesitate to give her -daughter back to her and put aside all thought of marrying her. I was -grateful to her for it. It was the only way in which she gave me to -understand that the past was still living in her memory. I had the -delicacy to refrain from alluding to it; however, I should have been -very happy if she had not feared to talk of it with perfect freedom; it -would have been a greater token of esteem than all the rest. -</p> -<p> -Doubtless Alezia had told her everything; doubtless she had made a -general confession of all the thoughts of her whole life, from the night -on which she had surprised her love-affair with the gondolier down to -that on which she had confided that secret to Lelio, the actor. -Doubtless the mutual suffering caused by such an outpouring of the heart -had been purified by the flame of maternal and filial love. Bianca told -me that her daughter was calm and resigned, and that she hoped to see me -some day and express her unchangeable affection, her great esteem, her -cordial gratitude —— In a word, the sacrifice was consummated. -</p> -<p> -I did not leave the princess until I had told her of my earnest hope -that Alezia would some day accept Nasi's love, and I urged her to -cultivate the present inclinations of that honorable and excellent young -man. -</p> -<p> -I returned to my inn at four o'clock in the morning. I found Nasi there; -he had, in accordance with my instructions, made all necessary -preparations for my departure. When I appeared with Francesca, he -thought that she had come to see me off and bid me good-bye. Imagine his -surprise when she embraced him and said, in a truly imperial tone: -</p> -<p> -"Be free, Nasi! win Alezia's love; I give you back your promise and -remain your friend." -</p> -<p> -"Lelio," he cried, "so you are robbing me of her too?" -</p> -<p> -"Do you not trust my honor?" I said. "Haven't I given you proofs enough -of it since yesterday? And do you doubt Francesca's grandeur of soul?" -</p> -<p> -He threw himself into our arms, weeping. We entered our carriage just at -sunrise. As we passed Villa Nasi, a blind was cautiously opened and a -woman leaned out to look after us. She had one hand on her heart, the -other she waved to me by way of farewell, and raised her eyes to heaven -to express her thanks: it was Bianca. -</p> -<p> -Three months later, Checca and I arrived at Venice one lovely evening in -autumn. We had an engagement at La Fenice, and we took rooms on the -Grand Canal, at the best hotel in the city. We passed the first hours -after our arrival unpacking our trunks and putting our stage wardrobe in -order. Not until that was done did we dine. It was quite late. At -dessert they brought me several packages of letters, one of which caught -my eye at once. After looking through it, I opened the window on the -balcony, called to Checca to go out with me, and told her to look across -the canal. Among the numerous palaces which cast their shadows on the -placid water, there was one, directly opposite our apartments, easily -distinguishable by its size and its antiquity. It had been magnificently -restored. Everything about it had a festive air. Through the windows we -could see, by the light of countless candles, superb bouquets and -gorgeous curtains, and we could hear the melodious strains of a large -orchestra. Gondolas, brilliantly illuminated, glided silently along the -Grand Canal and deposited at the palace door women bedecked with flowers -and gleaming jewels, and their escorts in ceremonious costume. -</p> -<p> -"Do you know," I asked Checca, "what palace this is opposite us, and the -occasion of this party?" -</p> -<p> -"No, and I am not at all curious." -</p> -<p> -"It is the Aldini Palace, where the marriage of Alezia Aldini and Count -Nasi is being celebrated." -</p> -<p> -"Bah!" she said, with a half-surprised, half-indifferent air. -</p> -<p> -I showed her the packet I had received. It was from Nasi. It contained -two invitations and two letters, one from Nasi to her, one from Alezia -to me, both charming. -</p> -<p> -"You see," I continued, when Checca had finished hers, "that we have no -reason to complain of their treatment of us. These letters followed us -to Florence and to Milan, and our constant journeyings are to blame for -their not having reached us until now. And the letters are as kind and -agreeable as it is possible for them to be. It is easy to see that they -were dictated by noble hearts. Great nobles as they are, they are not -afraid to speak to us, one of his friendship, the other of her -gratitude." -</p> -<p> -"Yes, but meanwhile they don't invite us to their wedding." -</p> -<p> -"In the first place, they don't know that we are here; and in the second -place, my dear sister, the rich people and the nobles do not invite -singers to their parties, except to have them sing; and those who don't -choose to sing to entertain their hosts are not invited at all. That is -the justice of society; and kind-hearted and sensible as our young -friends are, as they live in that society, they are obliged to submit to -its laws." -</p> -<p> -"Faith! so much the worse for them, my dear Lelio! Let them do as they -please. They leave us to amuse ourselves without them, let us leave them -to be bored to death without us. Let us snap our fingers at the pride of -the great, laugh at their follies, spend money merrily when we have it, -and accept poverty cheerfully if it comes; above all things, let us -cling to our liberty, let us enjoy life while we can, and long live -Bohemia!" -</p> -<p> -Here Lelio's story came to an end. When he had ceased to speak, none of -us broke the melancholy silence. Our friend seemed even more depressed -than the rest of us. Suddenly he raised his head, which he had rested on -his hand, and said: -</p> -<p> -"On the last evening that I referred to, there were many French people -among the guests; and as they were infatuated with German music, they -made the orchestra play Weber's and Beethoven's waltzes all the evening. -That is why those waltzes are so dear to me; they always recall a period -of my life which I shall never cease to regret, despite the suffering -with which it was filled. You must admit, my friends, that destiny has -been very cruel to me, in placing in my path two passions so ardent, so -sincere, so self-sacrificing, and not permitting me to enjoy either of -them. Alas! my time has passed now, and I shall never again know aught -of those noble passions of which one must have drained at least one to -the dregs in order to be able to say that he has known life." -</p> -<p> -"Do not complain," said Beppa, aroused by her companion's melancholy; -"you have an irreproachable life behind you, fair renown and kind -friends around you, and independence in the future and forever; and I -tell you that love will not fail you when you seek it. So fill your -glass once more with this generous wine, drink gayly with us, and lead -us as we sing the sacred refrain in chorus." -</p> -<p> -Lelio hesitated a moment, filled his glass, and heaved a deep sigh; then -a gleam of youth and merriment flashed from his fine black eyes, moist -with tears, and he sang in a resounding voice, to which we answered in -chorus: -</p> -<p> -"Long live Bohemia!" -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="nind"><a id="Footnote_6_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_1"><span class="label">[6]</span></a>The glance of the evil eye. This superstition is common all -over Italy. At Naples they wear coral talismans as a safeguard.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="nind"><a id="Footnote_7_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_1"><span class="label">[7]</span></a>In God's name, don't row! we are not on the Adriatic.</p></div> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PICCININO, VOLUME 02 (OF 2); THE LAST OF ALDINIS ***</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. 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. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following -the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use -of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for -copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very -easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation -of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project -Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away—you may -do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected -by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark -license, especially commercial redistribution. -</div> - -<div style='margin-top:1em; font-size:1.1em; text-align:center'>START: FULL LICENSE</div> -<div style='text-align:center;font-size:0.9em'>THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE</div> -<div style='text-align:center;font-size:0.9em'>PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project -Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™ -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person -or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the -Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™ -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when -you share it without charge with others. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country other than the United States. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work -on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the -phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: -</div> - -<blockquote> - <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> -</blockquote> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project -Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™ -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™ -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg™ License. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format -other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ website -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain -Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -provided that: -</div> - -<div style='margin-left:0.7em;'> - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation.” - </div> - - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™ - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™ - works. - </div> - - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - </div> - - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works. - </div> -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of -the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set -forth in Section 3 below. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right -of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™ -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™’s -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, -Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up -to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website -and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread -public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state -visit <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/donate/">www.gutenberg.org/donate</a>. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Most people start at our website which has the main PG search -facility: <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -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. -</div> - -</div> -</body> - -</html> diff --git a/old/69840-h/images/cover.jpg b/old/69840-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 4178ead..0000000 --- a/old/69840-h/images/cover.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/69840-h/images/figure01.jpg b/old/69840-h/images/figure01.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 57df512..0000000 --- a/old/69840-h/images/figure01.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/69840-h/images/figure02.jpg b/old/69840-h/images/figure02.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index cd947c5..0000000 --- a/old/69840-h/images/figure02.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/69840-h/images/figure03.jpg b/old/69840-h/images/figure03.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 8ebd383..0000000 --- a/old/69840-h/images/figure03.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/69840-h/images/figure04.jpg b/old/69840-h/images/figure04.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 5cb9290..0000000 --- a/old/69840-h/images/figure04.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/69840-h/images/figure05.jpg b/old/69840-h/images/figure05.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 73756ca..0000000 --- a/old/69840-h/images/figure05.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/69840-h/images/frontispiece.jpg b/old/69840-h/images/frontispiece.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 9c71295..0000000 --- a/old/69840-h/images/frontispiece.jpg +++ /dev/null |
