"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 sayyes, 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."
"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, myblessedSignor 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 secretfrom 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 genuinepetite 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 cashmererobe 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.
300ALEZIA 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."
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."
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 isBarbara 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 callcharbonnerie, 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?"
"DearMadonetta! 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'sincognito, 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'sSemiramis. 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,impossibleexplanation 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 bysomewhere 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 memy 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. Thisperson, 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 anintriguewith 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.