A ROMAN SINGER

F. MARION CRAWFORD

1909

[Illustration: "Shut the door and double turned the lock. "--Chap. XXI. ]

CHAPTER I

I, Cornelio Grandi, who tell you these things, have a story of my own, of which some of you are not ignorant. You know, for one thing, that Iwas not always poor, nor always a professor of philosophy, nor ascribbler of pedantic articles for a living. Many of you can rememberwhy I was driven to sell my patrimony, the dear castello in theSabines, with the good corn-land and the vineyards in the valley, andthe olives, too. For I am not old yet; at least, Mariuccia is older, as I often tell her. These are queer times. It was not any fault ofmine. But now that Nino is growing to be a famous man in the world, and people are saying good things and bad about him, and many say thathe did wrong in this matter, I think it best to tell you all the wholetruth and what I think of it. For Nino is just like a son to me; Ibrought him up from a little child, and taught him Latin, and wouldhave made a philosopher of him. What could I do? He had so much voicethat he did not know what to do with it. 

His mother used to sing. What a piece of a woman she was! She had avoice like a man's, and when De Pretis brought his singers to thefesta once upon a time, when I was young, he heard her far down below, as we walked on the terrace of the palazzo, and asked me if I wouldnot let him educate that young tenor. And when I told him it was oneof the contadine, the wife of a tenant of mine, he would not believeit. But I never heard her sing after Serafino--that was herhusband--was killed at the fair in Genazzano. And one day the feverstook her, and so she died, leaving Nino a little baby. Then you knowwhat happened to me, about that time, and how I sold Castel Servetiand came to live here in Rome. Nino was brought to me here. One day inthe autumn a carrettiere from Serveti, who would sometimes stop at mydoor and leave me a basket of grapes in the vintage, or a pitcher offresh oil in winter, because he never used to pay his house-rent whenI was his landlord--but he is a good fellow, Gigi--and so he tries tomake amends now; well, as I was saying, he came one day and gave me agreat basket of fine grapes, and he brought Nino with him, a littleboy of scarce six years--just to show him to me, he said. 

He was an ugly little boy, with a hat of no particular shape and adirty face. He had great black eyes, with ink-saucers under them, _calamai_, as we say, just as he has now. Only the eyes are biggernow, and the circles deeper. But he is still sufficiently ugly. If itwere not for his figure, which is pretty good, he could never havemade a fortune with his voice. De Pretis says he could, but I do notbelieve it. 

Well, I made Gigi come in with Nino, and Mariuccia made them each agreat slice of toasted bread and spread it with oil, and gave Gigi aglass of the Serveti wine, and little Nino had some with water. AndMariuccia begged to have the child left with her till Gigi went backthe next day; for she is fond of children and comes from Servetiherself. And that is how Nino came to live with us. That old woman hasno principles of economy, and she likes children. 

"What does a little creature like that eat?" said she. "A bit ofbread, a little soup--macchè! You will never notice it, I tell you. And the poor thing has been living on charity. Just imagine whetheryou are not quite as able to feed him as Gigi is!" So she persuadedme. But at first I did it to please her, for I told her our proverb, which says there can be nothing so untidy about a house as childrenand chickens. He was such a dirty little boy, with only one shoe and abattered hat, and he was always singing at the top of his voice, andthrowing things into the well in the cortile. 

Mariuccia can read a little, though I never believed it until I foundher one day teaching Nino his letters out of the _Vite dei Santi_. That was probably the first time that her reading was ever of any useto her, and the last, for I think she knows the _Lives of the Saints_by heart, and she will certainly not venture to read a new book at herage. However, Nino very soon learned to know as much as she, and shewill always be able to say that she laid the foundation of hiseducation. He soon forgot to throw handfuls of mud into the well, andMariuccia washed him, and I bought him a pair of shoes, and we madehim look very decent. After a time he did not even remember to pullthe cat's tail in the morning, so as to make her sing with him, as hesaid. When Mariuccia went to church she would take him with her, andhe seemed very fond of going, so that I asked him one day if he wouldlike to be a priest when he grew up, and wear beautiful robes, andhave pretty little boys to wait on him with censers in their hands. 

"No, " said the little urchin, stoutly, "I won't be a priest. " Hefound in his pocket a roast chestnut Mariuccia had given him, andbegan to shell it. 

"Why are you always so fond of going to church then?" I asked. 

"If I were a big man, " quoth he, "but really big, I would sing inchurch, like Maestro De Pretis. "

"What would you sing, Nino?" said I, laughing. He looked very grave, and got a piece of brown paper and folded it up. Then he began to beattime on my knees and sang out boldly, _Cornu ejus exaltabitur_. 

It was enough to make one laugh, for he was only seven years old, andugly too. But Mariuccia, who was knitting in the hall-way, called outthat it was just what Maestro Ercole had sung the day before atvespers, every syllable. 

I have an old piano in my sitting-room. It is a masterpiece of aninstrument, I can tell you; for one of the legs is gone and I proppedit up with two empty boxes, and the keys are all black except thosethat have lost the ivory--and those are green. It has also fivepedals, disposed as a harp underneath; but none of them make anyimpression on the sound, except the middle one, which rings a bell. The sound-board has a crack in it somewhere, Nino says, and two of thenotes are dumb since the great German maestro came home with my boyone night, and insisted on playing an accompaniment after supper. Wehad stewed chickens and a flask of Cesanese, I remember, and I knewsomething would happen to the piano. But Nino would never have anyother, for De Pretis had a very good one; and Nino studies withoutanything--just a common tuning-fork that he carries in his pocket. Butthe old piano was the beginning of his fame. He got into thesitting-room one day, by himself, and found out that he could make anoise by striking the keys, and then he discovered that he could maketunes, and pick out the ones that were always ringing in his head. After that he could hardly be dragged away from it, so that I sent himto school to have some quiet in the house. 

He was a clever boy, and I taught him Latin and gave him our poets toread; and as he grew up I would have made a scholar of him, but hewould not. At least, he was willing to learn and to read; but he wasalways singing too. Once I caught him declaiming "Arma virumque cano"to an air from Trovatore, and I knew he could never be a scholar then, though he might know a great deal. Besides, he always preferred Danteto Virgil, and Leopardi to Horace. 

One day, when he was sixteen or thereabouts, he was making a noise, asusual, shouting some motive or other to Mariuccia and the cat, while Iwas labouring to collect my senses over a lecture I had to prepare. Suddenly his voice cracked horribly and his singing ended in a sort ofgroan. It happened again once or twice, the next day, and then thehouse was quiet. I found him at night asleep over the old piano, hiseyes all wet with tears. 

"What is the matter, Nino?" I asked. "It is time for youngsters likeyou to be in bed. "

"Ah, Messer Cornelio, " he said, when he was awake, "I had better go tobed, as you say. I shall never sing again, for my voice is all brokento pieces"; and he sobbed bitterly. 

"The saints be praised, " thought I; "I shall make a philosopher of youyet!"

But he would not be comforted, and for several months he went about asif he were trying to find the moon, as we say; and though he read hisbooks and made progress, he was always sad and wretched, and grewmuch thinner, so that Mariuccia said he was consuming himself, and Ithought he must be in love. But the house was very quiet. 

I thought as he did, that he would never sing again, but I nevertalked to him about it, lest he should try, now that he was as quietas a nightingale with its tongue cut out. But nature meantdifferently, I suppose. One day De Pretis came to see me; it must havebeen near the new year, for he never came often at that time. It wasonly a friendly recollection of the days when I had a castello and achurch of my own at Serveti, and used to have him come from Rome tosing at the festa, and he came every year to see me; and his head grewbald as mine grew grey, so that at last he wears a black skull-capeverywhere, like a priest, and only takes it off when he sings theGloria Patri, or at the Elevation. However, he came to see me, andNino sat mutely by, as we smoked a little and drank the syrup ofviolets with water that Mariuccia brought us. It was one of hereternal extravagances, but somehow, though she never understood thevalue of economy, my professorship brought in more than enough for us, and it was not long after this that I began to buy the bit of vineyardout of Porta Salara, by instalments from my savings. And since then wehave our own wine. 

De Pretis was talking to me about a new opera that he had heard. Henever sang except in church, of course, but he used to go to thetheatre of an evening; so it was quite natural that he should go tothe piano and begin to sing a snatch of the tenor air to me, explaining the situation as he went along, between his singing. 

Nino could not sit still, and went and leaned over Sor Ercole, as wecall the maestro, hanging on the notes, not daring to try and sing, for he had lost his voice, but making the words with his lips. 

"Dio mio!" he cried at last, "how I wish I could sing that!"

"Try it, " said De Pretis, laughing and half interested by the boy'searnest look. "Try it--I will sing it again. " But Nino's face fell. 

"It is no use, " he said. "My voice is all broken to pieces now, because I sang too much before. "

"Perhaps it will come back, " said the musician kindly, seeing thetears in the young fellow's eyes. "See, we will try a scale. " Hestruck a chord. "Now, open your mouth--so--Do-o-o-o!" He sang a longnote. Nino could not resist any longer, whether he had any voice ornot. He blushed red and turned away, but he opened his mouth and madea sound. 

"Do-o-o-o!" He sang like the master, but much weaker. 

"Not so bad; now the next, Re-e-e!" Nino followed him. And so on, upthe scale. 

After a few more notes, De Pretis ceased to smile, and cried, "Go on, go on!" after every note, authoritatively, and in quite a differentmanner from his first kindly encouragement. Nino, who had not sung formonths, took courage and a long breath, and went on as he was bid, hisvoice gaining volume and clearness as he sang higher. Then De Pretisstopped and looked at him earnestly. 

"You are mad, " he said. "You have not lost your voice at all. "

"It was quite different when I used to sing before, " said the boy. 

"Per Bacco, I should think so, " said the maestro. "Your voice haschanged. Sing something, can't you?"

Nino sang a church air he had caught somewhere. I never heard such avoice, but it gave me a queer sensation that I liked--it was so true, and young, and clear. De Pretis sat open-mouthed with astonishmentand admiration. When the boy had finished, he stood looking at themaestro, blushing very scarlet, and altogether ashamed of himself. Theother did not speak. 

"Excuse me, " said Nino, "I cannot sing. I have not sung for a longtime. I know it is not worth anything. " De Pretis recovered himself. 

"You do not sing, " said he, "because you have not learned. But youcan. If you will let me teach you, I will do it for nothing. "

"Me!" screamed Nino, "you teach _me_! Ah, if it were any use--if youonly would!"

"Any use?" repeated De Pretis half aloud, as he bit his long blackcigar half through in his excitement. "Any use? My dear boy, doyou know that you have a very good voice? A remarkable voice, " hecontinued, carried away by his admiration, "such a voice as I havenever heard. You can be the first tenor of your age, if you please--inthree years you will sing anything you like, and go to London andParis, and be a great man. Leave it to me. "

I protested that it was all nonsense, that Nino was meant for ascholar and not for the stage, and I was quite angry with De Pretisfor putting such ideas into the boy's head. But it was of no use. Youcannot argue with women and singers, and they always get their own wayin the end. And whether I liked it or not, Nino began to go to SorErcole's house once or twice a week, and sang scales and exercisesvery patiently, and copied music in the evening, because he said hewould not be dependent on me, since he could not follow my wishes inchoosing a profession. De Pretis did not praise him much to his faceafter they had begun to study, but he felt sure he would succeed. 

"Caro Conte, "--he often calls me Count, though I am only plainProfessore, now--"he has a voice like a trumpet and the patience ofall the angels. He will be a great singer. "

"Well, it is not my fault, " I used to answer; for what could I do?

When you see Nino now, you cannot imagine that he was ever a dirtylittle boy from the mountains, with one shoe, and that infamous littlehat. I think he is ugly still, though you do not think so when he issinging, and he has good strong limbs and broad shoulders, and carrieshimself like a soldier. Besides, he is always very well dressed, though he has no affectations. He does not wear his hair plasteredinto a love-lock on his forehead, like some of our dandies, nor is heeternally pulling a pair of monstrous white cuffs over his hands. Everything is very neat about him and very quiet, so that you wouldhardly think he was an artist after all; and he talks but little, though he can talk very well when he likes, for he has not forgottenhis Dante nor his Leopardi. De Pretis says the reason he sings so wellis because he has a mouth like the slit in an organ pipe, as wide as aletter-box at the post-office. But I think he has succeeded because hehas great square jaws like Napoleon. People like that always succeed. My jaw is small, and my chin is pointed under my beard--but then, withthe beard, no one can see it. But Mariuccia knows. 

Nino is a thoroughly good boy, and until a year ago he never cared foranything but his art; and now he cares for something, I think, a greatdeal better than art, even than art like his. But he is a singerstill, and always will be, for he has an iron throat, and never washoarse in his life. All those years when he was growing up, he neverhad a love-scrape, or owed money, or wasted his time in the caffè. 

"Take care, " Mariuccia used to say to me, "if he ever takes a fancy tosome girl with blue eyes and fair hair he will be perfectly crazy. Ah, Sor Conte, _she_ had blue eyes, and her hair was like the corn-silk. How many years is that, Sor Conte mio?" Mariuccia is an old witch. 

I am writing this story to tell you why Mariuccia is a witch, and whymy Nino, who never so much as looked at the beauties of the generone, as they came with their fathers and brothers and mothers to eatice-cream in the Piazza Colonna, and listen to the music of a summer'sevening, --Nino, who stared absently at the great ladies as they rolledover the Pincio, in their carriages, and was whistling airs to himselffor practice when he strolled along the Corso, instead of looking outfor pretty faces, --Nino, the cold in all things save in music, why hefulfilled Mariuccia's prophecy, little by little, and became perfectlycrazy about blue eyes and fair hair. That is what I am going to tellyou, if you have the leisure to listen. And you ought to know it, because evil tongues are more plentiful than good voices in Rome, as elsewhere, and people are saying many spiteful things abouthim--though they clap loudly enough at the theatre when he sings. 

He is like a son to me, and perhaps I am reconciled, after all, to hisnot having become a philosopher. He would never have been so famousas he is now, and _he_ really knows so much more than Maestro DePretis--in other ways than music--that he is very presentable indeed. What is blood, nowadays? What difference does it make to societywhether Nino Cardegna, the tenor was the son of a vine-dresser? Orwhat does the University care for the fact that I, Cornelio Grandi, amthe last of a race as old as the Colonnas, and quite as honourable?What does Mariuccia care? What does anybody care? Corpo di Bacco! ifwe begin talking of race we shall waste as much time as would make usall great celebrities! I am not a celebrity--I never shall be now, for a man must begin at that trade young. It is a profession--beingcelebrated--and it has its signal advantages. Nino will tell you so, and he has tried it. But one must begin young, very young! I cannotbegin again. 

And then, as you all know, I never began at all. I took up life in themiddle, and am trying hard to twist a rope of which I never held theother end. I feel sometimes as though it must be the life of anotherthat I have taken, leaving my own unfinished, for I was never meant tobe a professor. That is the way of it; and if I am sad and inclined tomelancholy humours, it is because I miss my old self, and he seems tohave left me without even a kindly word at parting. I was fond of myold self, but I did not respect him much. And my present self Irespect, without fondness. Is that metaphysics? Who knows? It isvanity in either case, and the vanity of self-respect is perhaps amore dangerous thing than the vanity of self-love, though you may callit pride if you like, or give it any other high-sounding title. Butthe heart of the vain man is lighter than the heart of the proud. Probably Nino has always had much self-respect, but I doubt if it hasmade him very happy--until lately. True, he has genius, and does whathe must by nature do or die, whereas I have not even talent, and Imake myself do for a living what I can never do well. What does itserve, to make comparisons? I could never have been like Nino, thoughI believe half my pleasure of late has been in fancying how I shouldfeel in his place, and living through his triumphs by my imagination. Nino began at the very beginning, and when all his capital was oneshoe and a ragged hat, and certainly not more than a third of a shirt, he said he would be a great singer; and he is, though he is scarcelyof age yet. I wish it had been something else than a singer, but sincehe is the first already, it was worth while. He would have been greatin anything, though, for he has such a square jaw, and he looks sofierce when anything needs to be overcome. Our forefathers must havelooked like that, with their broad eagle noses and iron mouths. Theybegan at the beginning, too, and they went to the very end. I wishNino had been a general, or a statesman, or a cardinal, or all threelike Richelieu. 

But you want to hear of Nino, and you can pass on your ways, all ofyou, without hearing my reflections and small-talk about goodness, and success, and the like. Moreover, since I respect myself now, Imust not find so much fault with my own doings, or you will say thatI am in my dotage. And, truly, Nino Cardegna is a better man, for allhis peasant blood, than I ever was; a better lover, and perhaps abetter hater. There is his guitar, that he always leaves here, and itreminds me of him and his ways. Fourteen years he lived here with me, from child to boy and from boy to man, and now he is gone, never tolive here any more. The end of it will be that I shall go and livewith him, and Mariuccia will take her cat and her knitting, and her_Lives of the Saints_ back to Serveti, to end her life in peace, where there are no professors and no singers. For Mariuccia is olderthan I am, and she will die before me. At all events, she will takeher tongue with her, and ruin herself at her convenience withoutruining me. I wonder what life would be without Mariuccia? Wouldanybody darn my stockings, or save the peel of the mandarins to makecordial? I certainly would not have the mandarins if she weregone--it is a luxury. No, I would not have them. But then, therewould be no cordial, and I should have to buy new stockings everyyear or two. No, the mandarins cost less than the stockings--and--well, I suppose I am fond of Mariuccia. 

CHAPTER II

It was really not so long ago--only one year. The sirocco was blowingup and down the streets, and about the corners, with its sickeningblast, making us all feel like dead people, and hiding away the sunfrom us. It is no use trying to do anything when it blows sirocco, atleast for us who are born here. But I had been persuaded to go withNino to the house of Sor Ercole to hear my boy sing the opera he hadlast studied, and so I put my cloak over my shoulders, and wrapped itsfolds over my breast, and covered my mouth, and we went out. For itwas a cold sirocco, bringing showers of tepid rain from the south, andthe drops seemed to chill themselves as they fell. One moment you arein danger of being too cold, and the next minute the perspirationstands on your forehead, and you are oppressed with a moist heat. Likethe prophet, when it blows a real sirocco you feel as if you werepoured out like water, and all your bones were out of joint. Foreigners do not feel it until they have lived with us a few years, but Romans are like dead men when the wind is in that quarter. 

I went to the maestro's house and sat for two hours listening to thesinging. Nino sang very creditably, I thought, but I allow that Iwas not as attentive as I might have been, for I was chilled anduncomfortable. Nevertheless, I tried to be very appreciative, and Icomplimented the boy on the great progress he had made. When I thoughtof it, it struck me that I had never heard anybody sing like thatbefore; but still there was something lacking; I thought it sounded alittle unreal, and I said to myself that he would get admiration, butnever any sympathy. So clear, so true, so rich it was, but wanting aring to it, the little thrill that goes to the heart. He sings verydifferently now. 

Maestro Ercole De Pretis lives in the Via Paola, close to the PonteSant' Angelo, in a most decent little house--that is, of course, on afloor of a house, as we all do. But De Pretis is well-to-do, and hehas a marble door plate, engraved in black with his name, and twositting-rooms. They are not very large rooms, it is true, but inone of them he gives his lessons, and the grand piano fills it upentirely, so that you can only sit on the little black horsehair sofaat the end, and it is very hard to get past the piano on either side. Ercole is as broad as he is long, and takes snuff when he is notsmoking. But it never hurts his voice. 

It was Sunday, I remember, for he had to sing in St. Peter's in theafternoon; and it was so near, we walked over with him. Nino had neverlost his love for church music, though he had made up his mind that itwas a much finer thing to be a primo tenore assoluto at the ApolloTheatre than to sing in the Pope's choir for thirty scudi a month. Wewalked along over the bridge, and through the Borgo Nuovo, and acrossthe Piazza Rusticucci, and then we skirted the colonnade on the left, and entered the church by the sacristy, leaving De Pretis there to puton his purple cassock and his white cotta. Then we went into theCapella del Coro to wait for the vespers. 

All sorts of people go to St. Peter's on Sunday afternoon, but theyare mostly foreigners, and bring strange little folding chairs, andarrange themselves to listen to the music as though it were a concert. Now and then one of the young gentlemen-in-waiting from the Vaticanstrolls in and says his prayers, and there is an old woman, veryragged and miserable, who has haunted the chapel of the choir for manyyears, and sits with perfect unconcern, telling her beads at the footof the great reading-desk that stands out in the middle and is neverused. Great ladies crowd in through the gate when Raimondi's hymn isto be sung, and disreputable artists make sketches surreptitiouslyduring the benediction, without the slightest pretence at any devotionthat I can see. The lights shine out more brightly as the day wanes, and the incense curls up as the little boys swing the censers, and thepriests and canons chant, and the choir answers from the organ loft;and the crowd looks on, some saying their prayers, some pretending to, and some looking about for the friend or lover they have come to meet. 

That evening when we went over together I found myself pushed againsta tall man with an immense gray moustache standing out across his facelike the horns of a beetle. He looked down on me from time to time, and when I apologised for crowding him his face flushed a little, andhe tried to bow as well as he could in the press, and said somethingwith a German accent which seemed to be courteous. But I was separatedfrom Nino by him. Maestro Ercole sang, and all the others, turn andturn about, and so at last it came to the benediction. The tall oldforeigner stood erect and unbending, but most of the people around himkneeled. As the crowd sank down I saw that on the other side of himsat a lady on a small folding stool, her feet crossed one over theother, and her hands folded on her knees. She was dressed entirely inblack, and her fair face stood out wonderfully clear and brightagainst the darkness. Truly she looked more like an angel than awoman, though perhaps you will think she is not so beautiful afterall, for she is so unlike our Roman ladies. She has a delicate nose, full of sentiment, and pointed a little downward for pride; she hasdeep blue eyes, wide apart and dreamy, and a little shaded by browsthat are quite level and even, with a straight pencilling over them, that looks really as if it were painted. Her lips are very red andgentle, and her face is very white, so that the little ringlet thathas escaped control looks like a gold tracery on a white marbleground. 

And there she sat with the last light from the tall windows and thefirst from the great wax candles shining on her, while all aroundseemed dark by contrast. She looked like an angel; and quite as cold, perhaps most of you would say. Diamonds are cold things, too, but theyshine in the dark; whereas a bit of glass just lets the light throughit, even if it is coloured red and green and put in a church window, and looks ever so much warmer than the diamond. 

But though I saw her beauty and the light of her face, all in amoment, as though it had been a dream, I saw. Nino, too; for I hadmissed him, and had supposed he had gone to the organ loft with DePretis. But now, as the people kneeled to the benediction, imagine alittle what he did; he just dropped on his knees with his face to thewhite lady, and his back to the procession; it was really disgraceful, and if it had been lighter I am sure everyone would have noticed it. At all events, there he knelt, not three feet from the lady, lookingat her as if his heart would break. But I do not believe she saw him, for she never looked his way. Afterwards everybody got up again, andwe hurried to get out of the Chapel; but I noticed that the tall oldforeigner gave his arm to the beautiful lady, and when they had pushedtheir way through the gate that leads into the body of the church, they did not go away but stood aside for the crowd to pass. Ninosaid he would wait for De Pretis, and immediately turned his wholeattention to the foreign girl, hiding himself in the shadow and nevertaking his eyes from her. 

I never saw Nino look at a woman before as though she interested himin the least, or I would not have been surprised now to see him lostin admiration of the fair girl. I was close to him and could see hisface, and it had a new expression on it that I did not know. Thepeople were almost gone and the lights were being extinguished when DePretis came round the corner, looking for us. But I was astonished tosee him bow low to the foreigner and the young lady, and then stop andenter into conversation with them. They spoke quite audibly, and itwas about a lesson that the young lady had missed. She spoke like aRoman, but the old gentleman made himself understood in a series ofstiff phrases, which he fired out of his mouth like discharges ofmusketry. 

"Who are they?" whispered Nino to me, breathless with excitement andtrembling from head to foot. "Who are they, and how does the maestroknow them?"

"Eh, caro mio, what am I to know?" I answered indifferently. "They aresome foreigners, some pupil of De Pretis, and her father. How should Iknow?"

"She is a Roman, " said Nino between his teeth. "I have heardforeigners talk. The old man is a foreigner, but she--she is Roman, "he repeated with certainty. 

"Eh, " said I, "for my part she may be Chinese. The stars will not fallon that account. " You see, I thought he had seen her before, and Iwanted to exasperate him by my indifference so that he should tell me;but he would not, and indeed I found out afterwards that he hadreally never seen her before. 

Presently the lady and gentleman went away, and we called De Pretis, for he could not see us in the gloom. Nino became very confidentialand linked an arm in his as we went away. 

"Who are they, caro maestro, these enchanting people?" inquired theboy when they had gone a few steps, and I was walking by Nino's side, and we were all three nearing the door. 

"Foreigners--my foreigners, " returned the singer proudly, as he took acolossal pinch of snuff. He seemed to say that he in his professionwas constantly thrown with people like that, whereas I--oh, I, ofcourse, was always occupied with students and poor devils who had novoice, nothing but brains. 

"But she, " objected Nino, --"she is Roman, I am sure of it. "

"Eh, " said Ercole, "you know how it is. These foreigners marry andcome here and live, and their children are born here; and they grow upand call themselves Romans, as proudly as you please. But they are notreally Italians, any more than the Shah of Persia. " The maestro smileda pitying smile. He is a Roman of Rome, and his great nose scornspretenders. In his view Piedmontese, Tuscans, and Neapolitans are asmuch foreigners as the Germans or the English. More so, for he likesthe Germans and tolerates the English, but he can call an enemy by noworse name than "Napoletano" or "Piemontese. "

"Then they live here?" cried Nino in delight. 

"Surely. "

"In fine, maestro mio, who are they?"

"What a diavolo of a boy! Dio mio!" and Ercole laughed under his bigmoustache, which is black still. But he is bald, all the same, andwears a skull-cap. 

"Diavolo as much as you please, but I will know, " said Nino sullenly. 

"Oh bene! Now do not disquiet yourself, Nino--I will tell you allabout them. She is a pupil of mine, and I go to their house in theCorso and give her lessons. "

"And then?" asked Nino impatiently. 

"Who goes slowly goes surely, " said the maestro sententiously; and hestopped to light a cigar as black and twisted as his moustache. Thenhe continued, standing still in the middle of the piazza to talk athis ease, for it had stopped raining and the air was moist and sultry, "They are Prussians, you must know. The old man is a colonel, retired, pensioned, everything you like, wounded at Königgratz by theAustrians. His wife was delicate, and he brought her to live here longbefore he left the service, and the signorina was born here. He hastold me about it, and he taught me to pronounce the name Königgratz, so--Conigherazzo, " said the maestro proudly, "and that is how I know. "

"Capperi! What a mouthful, " said I. 

"You may well say that, Sor Conte, but singing teaches us alllanguages. You would have found it of great use in your studies. " Ipictured to myself a quarter of an hour of Schopenhauer, with a pianoaccompaniment and some one beating time. 

"But their name, their name I want to know, " objected Nino, as hestepped aside and flattened himself against the pillar to let acarriage pass. As luck would have it, the old officer and his daughterwere in that very cab, and Nino could just make them out by theevening twilight. He took off his hat, of course, but I am quite surethey did not see him. 

"Well, their name is prettier than Conigherazzo, " said Ercole. "It isLira--Erre Gheraffe fonne Lira. " (Herr Graf von Lira, I suppose hemeant. And he has the impudence to assert that singing has taught himto pronounce German. ) "And that means, " he continued, "Il Conte diLira, as we should say. "

"Ah! what a divine appellation!" exclaimed Nino enthusiastically, pulling his hat over his eyes to meditate upon the name at hisleisure. 

"And her name is Edvigia, " volunteered the maestro. That is theItalian for Hedwig, or Hadwig, you know. But we should shorten it andcall her Gigia just as though she were Luisa. Nino does not think itso pretty. Nino was silent. Perhaps he was always shy of repeating thefamiliar name of the first woman he had ever loved. Imagine! At twentyhe had never been in love! It is incredible to me, --and one of our ownpeople, too, born at Serveti. 

Meanwhile the maestro's cigar had gone out, and he lit it with ablazing sulphur match before he continued; and we all walked on again. I remember it all very distinctly, because it was the beginningof Nino's madness. Especially I call to mind his expression ofindifference when Ercole began to descant upon the worldly possessionsof the Lira household. It seemed to me that if Nino so seriously casthis eyes on the Contessina Edvigia, he might at least have lookedpleased to hear she was so rich; or he might have looked disappointed, if he thought that her position was an obstacle in his way. But he didnot care about it at all, and walked straight on, humming a littletune through his nose with his mouth shut, for he does everything to atune. 

"They are certainly gran' signor, " Ercole said. "They live on thefirst floor of the Palazzo Carmandola, --you know, in the Corso--andthey have a carriage, and keep two men in livery, just like a Romanprince. Besides, the count once sent me a bottle of wine at Christmas. It was as weak as water, and tasted like the solfatara of Tivoli, butit came from his own vineyard in Germany, and was at least fifty yearsold. If he has a vineyard, he has a castello, of course. And if he hasa castello, he is a gran' signor, --eh? what do you think, Sor Conte?You know about such things. "

"I did once, maestro mio. It is very likely. "

"And as for the wine being sour, it was because it was so old. I amsure the Germans cannot make wine well. They are not used to drinkingit good, or they would not drink so much when they come here. " We werecrossing the bridge, and nearing Ercole's house. 

"Maestro, " said Nino, suddenly. He had not spoken for some time, andhe had finished his tune. 

"Well?"

"Is not to-morrow our day for studying?"

"Diavolo! I gave you two hours to-day. Have you forgotten?"

"Ah, --it is true. But give me a lesson to-morrow, like a good maestroas you are. I will sing like an angel if you will give me a lessonto-morrow. "

"Well, if you like to come at seven in the morning, and if you promiseto sing nothing but solfeggi of Bordogni for an hour, and not tostrain your voice, or put too much vinegar in your salad at supper, Iwill think about it. Does that please you? Conte, don't let him eattoo much vinegar. "

"I will do all that if I may come, " said Nino readily, though he wouldrather not sing at all, at most times, than sing Bordogni, De Pretistells me. 

"Meglio cosi, --so much the better. Good-night, Sor Conte. Good-night, Nino. " And so he turned down the Via Paola, and Nino and I went ourway. I stopped to buy a cigar at the little tobacco shop just oppositethe Tordinona Theatre. They used to be only a baiocco apiece, and Icould get one at a time. But now they are two for three baiocchi; andso I have to get two always, because there are no half baiocchi anymore--nothing but centimes. That is one of the sources of myextravagance. Mariuccia says I am miserly; she was born poor, andnever had to learn the principles of economy. 

"Nino mio, " I said, as we went along, "you really make me laugh. "

"Which is to say--" He was humming a tune again, and was cross becauseI interrupted him. 

"You are in love. Do not deny it. You are already planning how you canmake the acquaintance of the foreign contessa. You are a fool. Gohome, and get Mariuccia to give you some syrup of tamarind to coolyour blood. "

"Well? Now tell me, were you never in love with anyone yourself?" heasked, by way of answer; and I could see the fierce look come into hiseyes in the dark as he said it. 

"Altro, --that is why I laugh at you. When I was your age I had been inlove twenty times. But I never fell in love at first sight--and with adoll; really a wax doll, you know, like the Madonna in the presepiothat they set up at the Ara Coeli, at Epiphany. "

"A doll!" he cried. "Who is a doll, if you please?" We stopped at thecorner of the street to argue it out. 

"Do you think she is really alive?" I asked, laughing. Nino disdainedto answer me, but he looked savagely from under the brim of his hat. "Look here, " I continued, "women like that are only made to be lookedat. They never love, for they have no hearts. It is lucky if theyhave souls, like Christians. "

"I will tell you what I think, " said he stoutly; "she is an angel. "

"Oh! is that all? Did you ever hear of an angel being married?"

"You shall hear of it, Sor Cornelio, and before long. I swear to you, here, that I will marry the Contessina di Lira--if that is hername--before two years are out. Ah, you do not believe me. Very well. I have nothing more to say. "

"My dear son, " said I, --for he is a son to me, --"you are talkingnonsense. How can anybody in your position hope to marry a great lady, who is an heiress? Is it not true that it is all stuff and nonsense?"

"No, it is not true, " cried Nino, setting his square jaw like a bitand speaking through his teeth. "I am ugly, you say; I am dark, and Ihave no position, or wealth, or anything of the kind. I am the son ofa peasant and of a peasant's wife. I am anything you please, but Iwill marry her if I say I will. Do you think it is for nothing thatyou have taught me the language of Dante, of Petrarca, of SilvioPellico? Do you think it is for nothing that Heaven has given me myvoice? Do not the angels love music, and cannot I make as good songsas they? Or do you think that because I am bred a singer my hand isnot as strong as a fine gentleman's--contadino as I am? I will--I willand I will, Basta!"

I never saw him look like that before. He had folded his arms, and henodded his head a little at each repetition of the word, looking at meso hard, as we stood under the gas lamp in the street, that I wasobliged to turn my eyes away. He stared me out of countenance--he, apeasant boy! Then we walked on. 

"And as for her being a wax doll, as you call her, " he continuedafter a little time, "that is nonsense, if you want the word to beused. Truly, a doll! And the next minute you compare her to theMadonna! I am sure she has a heart as big as this, " and he stretchedout his hands into the air. "I can see it in her eyes. Ah, what eyes!"

I saw it was no use arguing on that tack, and I felt quite sure thathe would forget all about it, though he looked so determined, andtalked so grandly about his will. 

"Nino, " I said, "I am older than you. " I said this to impress him, ofcourse, for I am not really so very old. 

"Diamini!" he cried impertinently, "I believe it!"

"Well, well, do not be impatient. I have seen something in my time, and I tell you those foreign women are not like ours, a whit. I fellin love, once, with a northern fairy, --she was not German, but shecame from Lombardy, you see, --and that is the reason why I lostServeti and all the rest. "

"But I have no Serveti to lose, " objected Nino. 

"You have a career as a musician to lose. It is not much of a careerto be stamping about with a lot of figuranti and scene-shifters, andscreaming yourself hoarse every night. " I was angry because he laughedat my age. "But it is a career, after all, that you have chosen foryourself. If you get mixed up in an intrigue now, you may ruinyourself. I hope you will. "

"Grazie! And then?"

"Eh, it might not be such a bad thing after all. For if you could beinduced to give up the stage--"

"I--_I_ give up singing?" he cried, indignantly. 

"Oh, such things happen, you know. If you were to give it up, as I wassaying, you might then possibly use your mind. A mind is a muchbetter thing than a throat, after all. "

"Ebbene! talk as much as you please, for, of course, you have theright, for you have brought me up, and you have certainly opposed mysinging enough to quiet your conscience. But, dear professor, I willdo all that I say, and if you will give me a little help in thismatter, you will not repent it. "

"Help? Dio mio! What do you take me for? As if I could help you, orwould! I suppose you want money to make yourself a dandy, a piano, togo and stand at the corner of the Piazza Colonna and ogle her as shegoes by! In truth! You have fine projects. "

"No, " said Nino quietly, "I do not want any money or anything else atpresent, thank you. And do not be angry, but come into the caffè anddrink some lemonade; and I will invite you to it, for I have been paidfor my last copying that I sent in yesterday. " He put his arm in mine, and we went in. There is no resisting Nino when he is affectionate. But I would not let him pay for the lemonade. I paid for it myself. What extravagance!

CHAPTER III

Now I ought to tell you that many things in this story were only toldme quite lately, for at first I would not help Nino at all, thinkingit was but a foolish fancy of his boy's heart and would soon pass. Ihave tried to gather and to order all the different incidents into oneharmonious whole, so that you can follow the story; and you must notwonder that I can describe some things that I did not see, and that Iknow how some of the people felt; for Nino and I have talked over thewhole matter very often, and the baroness came here and told me hershare, though I wonder how she could talk so plainly of what must havegiven her so much pain. But it was very kind of her to come; and shesat over there in the old green arm-chair by the glass case that hasthe artificial flowers under it, and the sugar lamb that the padrecurato gave Nino when he made his first communion at Easter. However, it is not time to speak of the baroness yet, but I cannot forget her. 

Nino was very amusing when he began to love the young countess, andthe very first morning--the day after we had been to St. Peter's--hewent out at half-past six, though it was only just sunrise, for wewere in October. I knew very well that he was going for his extralesson with De Pretis, but I had nothing to say about it, and I onlyrecommended him to cover himself well, for the sirocco had passed andit was a bright morning, with a clear tramontana wind blowing freshfrom the north. I can always tell when it is a tramontana wind beforeI open my window, for Mariuccia makes such a clattering with thecoffee-pot in the kitchen, and the goldfinch in the sitting-room singsvery loud; which he never does if it is cloudy. Nino, then, went offto Maestro Ercole's house for his singing, and this is what happenedthere. 

De Pretis knew perfectly well that Nino had only asked for the extralesson in order to get a chance of talking about the Contessina diLira, and so, to tease him, as soon as he appeared, the maestro made agreat bustle about singing scales, and insisted on beginning at once. Moreover, he pretended to be in a bad humour; and that is alwayspretence with him. 

"Ah, my little tenor, " he began; "you want a lesson at seven in themorning, do you? That is the time when all the washerwomen sing at thefountain! Well, you shall have a lesson, and by the body of Bacchus itshall be a real lesson! Now, then! Andiamo--Do-o-o!" and he roared outa great note that made the room shake, and a man who was sellingcabbage in the street stopped his hand-cart and mimicked him for fiveminutes. 

"But I am out of breath, maestro, " protested Nino, who wanted to talk. 

"Out of breath? A singer is never out of breath. Absurd! What wouldyou do if you got out of breath, say, in the last act of _Lucia_, so--Bell'alma ado--?? Then your breath ends, eh? Will you stay withthe 'adored soul' between your teeth? A fine singer you will make!Andiamo! Do-o-o!"

Nino saw he must begin, and he set up a shout, much against his will, so that the cabbage-vendor chimed in, making so much noise that theold woman who lives opposite opened her window and emptied a greatdustpan full of potato peelings and refuse leaves of lettuce right onhis head. And then there was a great noise. But the maestro paid noattention, and went on with the scale, hardly giving Nino time tobreathe. Nino, who stood behind De Pretis while he sang, saw the copyof Bordogni's solfeggi lying on a chair, and managed to slip it undera pile of music near by, singing so lustily all the while that themaestro never looked round. 

When he got to the end of the scale Ercole began hunting for themusic, and as he could not find it, Nino asked him questions. 

"Can she sing, --this contessina of yours, maestro?" De Pretis wasoverturning everything in his search. 

"An apoplexy on those solfeggi and on the man who made them!" hecried. "Sing, did you say? Yes, a great deal better than you everwill. Why can you not look for your music, instead of chattering?"Nino began to look where he knew it was not. 

"By the by, do you give her lessons every day?" asked the boy. 

"Every day? Am I crazy, to ruin people's voices like that?"

"Caro maestro, what is the matter with you this morning? You haveforgotten to say your prayers!"

"You are a donkey, Nino; here he is, this blessed Bordogni, --nowcome. "

"Sor Ercole mio, " said Nino in despair, "I must really know somethingabout this angel, before I sing at all. " Ercole sat down on the pianostool, and puffed up his cheeks, and heaved a tremendous sigh, to showhow utterly bored he was by his pupil. Then he took a large pinch ofsnuff, and sighed again. 

"What demon have you got into your head?" he asked, at length. 

"What angel, you mean, " answered Nino, delighted at having forced themaestro to a parley. "I am in love with her--crazy about her, " hecried, running his fingers through his curly hair, "and you must helpme to see her. You can easily take me to her house to sing duets aspart of her lesson. I tell you I have not slept a wink all night forthinking of her, and unless I see her I shall never sleep again aslong as I live. Ah!" he cried, putting his hands on Ercole'sshoulders, "you do not know what it is to be in love! How everythingone touches is fire, and the sky is like lead, and one minute you arecold and one minute you are hot, and you may turn and turn on yourpillow all night and never sleep, and you want to curse everybody yousee, or to embrace them, it makes no difference--anything to expressthe--"

"Devil! and may he carry you off!" interrupted Ercole, laughing. Buthis manner changed. "Poor fellow, " he said presently, "it appears tome you are in love. "

"It appears to you, does it? 'Appears'--a beautiful word, in faith. Ican tell you it appears to me so, too. Ah! it 'appears' to you--verygood indeed!" And Nino waxed wroth. 

"I will give you some advice, Ninetto mio. Do not fall in love withanyone. It always ends badly. "

"You come late with your counsel, Sor Ercole. In truth, a very goodpiece of advice when a man is fifty, and married, and wears askull-cap. When I wear a skull-cap and take snuff I will follow yourinstructions. " He walked up and down the room, grinding his teeth, andclapping his hands together. Ercole rose and stopped him. 

"Let us talk seriously, " he said. 

"With all my heart; as seriously as you please. "

"You have only seen this signorina once. "

"Once!" cried Nino, --"as if once were not--"

"Diavolo; let me speak. You have only seen her once. She is noble, anheiress, a great lady--worse than all, a foreigner; as beautiful as astatue, if you please, but twice as cold. She has a father who knowsthe proprieties, a piece of iron, I tell you, who would kill you justas he would drink a glass of wine, with the greatest indifference, ifhe suspected you lifted your eyes to his daughter. "

"I do not believe your calumnies, " said Nino still hotly, "She is notcold, and if I can see her she will listen to me. I am sure of it. "

"We will speak of that by and by. You--what are you? Nothing but asinger, who has not even appeared before the public, without a baioccoin the world or anything else but your voice. You are not evenhandsome. "

"What difference does that make to a woman of heart?" retorted Ninoangrily. "Let me only speak to her--"

"A thousand devils!" exclaimed De Pretis impatiently; "what good willyou do by speaking to her? Are you Dante, or Petrarca, or apreacher--what are you? Do you think you can have a great lady's handfor the asking? Do you flatter yourself that you are so eloquent thatnobody can withstand you?"

"Yes, " said Nino, boldly. "If I could only speak to her--"

"Then in heaven's name, go and speak to her. Get a new hat and a pairof lavender gloves, and walk about the Villa Borghese until you meether, and then throw yourself on your knees and kiss her feet, and thedust from her shoes; and say you are dying for her, and will she begood enough to walk as far as Santa Maria del Popolo and be married toyou! That is all; you see it is nothing you ask--a mere politeness onher part--oh, nothing, nothing. " And De Pretis rubbed his hands andsmiled, and seeing that Nino did not answer, he blew his nose with hisgreat blue cotton handkerchief. 

"You have no heart at all, maestro, " said Nino at last. "Let us sing. "

They worked hard at Bordogni for half an hour, and Nino did not openhis mouth except to produce the notes. But as his blood was up fromthe preceding interview he took great pains, and Ercole, who makes himsing all the solfeggi he can from a sense of duty, himself wearied ofthe ridiculous old-fashioned runs and intervals. 

"Bene, " he said; "let us sing a piece now, and then you will have doneenough. " He put an opera on the piano, and Nino lifted up his voiceand sang, only too glad to give his heart passage to his lips. Ercolescrewed up his eyes with a queer smile he has when he is pleased. 

"Capperi!" he ejaculated, when Nino had done. 

"What has happened?" asked the latter. 

"I cannot tell you what has happened, " said Ercole, "but I will tellyou that you had better always sing like that, and you will beapplauded. Why have you never sung that piece in that way before?"

"I do not know. Perhaps it is because I am unhappy. "

"Very well, never dare to be happy again, if you mean to succeed. Youcan make a statue shed tears if you please. " Ercole took a pinch ofsnuff, and turned round to look out of the window. Nino leaned on thepiano, drumming with his fingers and looking at the back of themaestro's head. The first rays of the sun just fell into the room andgilded the red brick floor. 

"Then instead of buying lavender kid gloves, " said Nino at last, hisface relaxing a little, "and going to the Villa Borghese, you adviseme to borrow a guitar and sing to my statue? Is that it?"

"Che Diana! I did not say that!" said Ercole, still facing the windowand finishing his pinch of snuff with a certain satisfaction. "But ifyou want the guitar, take it--there it lies. I will not answer forwhat you do with it. " His voice sounded kindly, for he was so muchpleased. Then he made Nino sing again, a little love song of Tosti, who writes for the heart and sings so much better without a voice thanall your stage tenors put together. And the maestro looked long atNino when he had done, but he did not say anything. Nino put on hishat gloomily enough, and prepared to go. 

"I will take the guitar, if you will lend it to me, " he said. 

"Yes, if you like, and I will give you a handkerchief to wrap it upwith, " said De Pretis, absently, but he did not get up from his seat. He was watching Nino, and he seemed to be thinking. Just as the boywas going with the instrument under his arm he called him back. 

"Ebbene?" said Nino, with his hand on the lock of the door. 

"I will make you a song to sing to your guitar, " said Ercole. 

"You?"

"Yes--but without music. Look here, Nino--sit down. What a hurry youare in. I was young myself, once upon time. "

"Once upon a time! Fairy stories--once upon a time there was a king, and so on. " Nino was not to be easily pacified. 

"Well, perhaps it is a fairy tale, but it is in the future. I have anidea. "

"Oh, is that all? But it is the first time. I understand. "

Listen. Have you read Dante?"

"I know the _Vita Nuova_ by heart, and some of the _Commedia_. But howthe diavolo does Dante enter into this question?"

"And Silvio Pellico, and a little literature?" continued Ercole, notheeding the comment. 

"Yes, after a fashion. And you? Do you know them?"

"Che c'entro io?" cried Ercole, impatiently; "what do I want to knowsuch things for? But I have heard of them. "

"I congratulate you, " replied Nino, ironically. 

"Have patience. You are no longer an artist. You are a professor ofliterature. "

"I--a professor of literature? What nonsense are you talking?"

"You are a great stupid donkey, Nino. Supposing I obtain for you anengagement to read literature with the Contessina di Lira, will younot be a professor? If you prefer singing--" But Nino comprehended ina flash the whole scope of the proposal, and threw his arm roundErcole's neck and embraced him. 

"What a mind! Oh, maestro mio, I will die for you! Command me, andI will do anything for you; I will run errands for you, blackyour boots, anything--" he cried in the ecstasy of delight thatovermastered him. 

"Piano, piano, " objected the maestro, disengaging himself from hispupil's embrace. "It is not done yet. There is much, much to think offirst. " Nino retreated, a little disconcerted at not finding hisenthusiasm returned, but radiant still. 

"Calm yourself, " said Ercole, smiling. "If you do this thing you mustact a part. You must manage to conceal your occupation entirely. Youmust look as solemn as an undertaker and be a real professor. Theywill ultimately find you out, and throw you out of the window, anddismiss me for recommending you. But that is nothing. "

"No, " said Nino, "that is of no importance. " And he ran his fingersthrough his hair, and looked delighted. 

"You shall know all about it this evening, or to-morrow--"

"This evening, Sor Ercole, this evening, or I shall die. Stay, let mego to the house with you, when you give your lesson, and wait for youat the door. "

"Pumpkin-head! I will have nothing to do with you, " said De Pretis. 

"Ah, I will be as quiet as you please. I will be like a lamb, and waituntil this evening. "

"If you will really be quiet, I will do what you wish. Come to methis evening about the Ave Maria--or a little earlier. Yes, come attwenty-three hours. In October that is about five o'clock, by Frenchtime. 

"And I may take the guitar?" said Nino, as he rose to go. 

"With all my heart. But do not spoil everything by singing to her, andbetraying yourself. "

So Nino thanked the maestro enthusiastically and went away, humming atune, as he now and again struck the strings of the guitar that hecarried under his arm, to be sure it was there. 

Do not think that because De Pretis suddenly changed his mind, andeven proposed to Nino a plan for making the acquaintance of the youngcountess, he is a man to veer about like a weather-cock, nor yet a badman, willing to help a boy to do mischief. That is not at all likeErcole de Pretis. He has since told me he was much astonished at theway Nino sang the love song at his lesson; and he was instantlyconvinced that in order to be a great artist Nino must be in lovealways. Besides, the maestro is as liberal in his views of life as heis conservative in his ideas about government. Nino is everything themost straight-laced father could wish him to be, and as he was thenwithin a few months of making his first appearance on the stage, DePretis, who understands those things, could very well foresee thesuccess he has had. Now De Pretis is essentially a man of the people, and I am not; therefore he saw no objection in the way of a matchbetween a great singer and a noble damigelia. But had I known what wasgoing on, I would have stopped the whole affair at that point, for Iam not so weak as Mariuccia seems to think. I do not mean now thateverything is settled I would wish it undone. Heaven forbid! But Iwould have stopped it then, for it is a most incongruous thing, apeasant boy making love to a countess. 

Nino, however, has one great fault, and that is his reticence. It istrue, he never does anything he would not like me, or all the world, to know. But I would like to know, all the same. It is a habit I havefallen into, from having to watch that old woman, for fear she shouldbe too extravagant. All that time he never said anything, and Isupposed he had forgotten all about the contessina, for I did notchance to see De Pretis; and when I did he talked of nothing butNino's _début_ and the arrangements that were to be made. So that Iknew nothing about it, though I was pleased to see him reading somuch. He took a sudden fancy for literature, and read when he was notsinging, and even made me borrow Ambrosoli, in several volumes, from afriend. He read every word of it, and talked very intelligently aboutit too. I never thought there was any reason. 

But De Pretis thinks differently. He believes that a man may be theson of a ciociaro--a fellow who ties his legs up in rags and thongs, and lives on goats' milk in the mountains--and that if he has brainsenough, or talent enough, he may marry any woman he likes without everthinking whether she is noble or not. De Pretis must be old-fashioned, for I am sure I do not think in that way, and I know a hundred timesas much as he--a hundred times. 

I suppose it must have been the very day when Nino had been to DePretis in the morning that he had instructions to go to the house ofCount von Lira on the morrow; for I remember very well that Nino actedstrangely in the evening, singing and making a noise for a fewminutes, and then burying himself in a book. However that may be, itwas very soon afterwards that he went to the Palazzo Carmandola, dressed in his best clothes, he tells me, in order to make afavourable impression on the count. The latter had spoken to De Pretisabout the lessons in literature, to which he attached greatimportance, and the maestro had turned the idea to account for hispupil. But Nino did not expect to see the young contessa on this firstday, or at least he did not hope he would be able to speak to her. Andso it turned out. 

The footman, who had a red waistcoat, and opened the door withauthority, as if ready to close it again on the smallest provocation, did not frighten Nino at all, though he eyed him suspiciously enough, and after ascertaining his business departed to announce him to thecount. Meanwhile, Nino, who was very much excited at the idea of beingunder the same roof with the object of his adoration, set himself downon one of the carved chests that surrounded the hall. The green baizedoor at the other end swung noiselessly on its hinges, closing itselfbehind the servant, and the boy was left alone. He might well befrightened, if not at the imposing appearance of the footman, atleast at the task he had undertaken. But a boy like Nino is afraid ofnothing when he is in love, and he simply looked about him, realisingthat he was without doubt in the house of a gran' signor, and fromtime to time brushing a particle of dust from his clothes, or tryingto smooth his curly black hair, which he had caused to be clipped alittle for the occasion; a very needless expense, for he looks betterwith his hair long. 

Before many moments the servant returned, and with some condescensionsaid that the count awaited him. Nino would rather have faced themayor, or the king himself, than Graf von Lira, though he was not atall frightened--he was only very much excited, and he strove to calmhimself, as he was ushered through the apartments to the smallsitting-room where he was expected. 

Graf von Lira, as I have already told you, is a foreigner of rank, whohad been a Prussian colonel, and was wounded in the war of 1866. He isvery tall, very thin, and very grey, with wooden features and a hugemoustache that stands out like the beaks on the colonna rostrata. Hiseyes are small and very far apart, and fix themselves with terribleseverity when he speaks, even if he is only saying "good-morning. " Hisnails are very long and most carefully kept, and though he is so lamethat he could not move a step without the help of his stick, he isstill an upright and military figure. I remember well how he looked, for he came to see me under peculiar circumstances, many months afterthe time of which I am now speaking; and, besides, I had stood next tohim for an hour in the chapel of the choir in St. Peter's. 

He speaks Italian intelligibly, but with the strangest Germanconstructions, and he rolls the letter _r_ curiously in his throat. But he is an intelligent man for a soldier, though he thinks talent isa matter of education, and education a matter of drill. He is the mostceremonious man I ever saw; and Nino says he rose from his chair tomeet him, and would not sit down again until Nino was seated. 

"The signore is the professor of Italian literature recommended tome by Signor De Pretis?" inquired the colonel in iron tones, as hescrutinised Nino. 

"Yes, Signor Conte, " was the answer. 

"You are a singularly young man to be a professor. " Nino trembled. "And how have you the education obtained in order the obligations andnot-to-be-avoided responsibilities of this worthy-of-all-honour careerto meet?"

"I went to school here, Signor Conte, and the Professor Grandi, inwhose house I always have lived, has taught me everything else Iknow. "

"What do you know?" inquired the count, so suddenly that Nino wastaken off his guard. He did not know what to answer. The count lookedvery stern and pulled his moustaches. "You have not here come, "he continued, seeing that Nino made no answer, "without knowingsomething. Evident is it, that, although a man young be, if he nothingknows, he cannot a professor be. "

"You speak justly, Signor Conte, " Nino answered at last, "and I doknow some things. I know the _Commedia_ of Alighieri, and Petrarca, and I have read the _Gerusalemme Liberata_ with Professor Grandi, andI can repeat all of the _Vita Nuova_ by heart, and some of the--"

"For the present that is enough, " said the count. "If you nothingbetter to do have, will you so kind be as to begin?"

"Begin?" said Nino, not understanding. 

"Yes, signore; it would unsuitable be if I my daughter to the hands ofa man committed unacquainted with the matter he to teach her proposes. I desire to be satisfied that you all these things really know. "

"Do I understand, Signor Conte, that you wish me to repeat to you someof the things I know by heart?"

"You have me understood, " said the count severely, "I have all thebooks bought of which you speak. You will repeat, and I will in thebook follow. Then shall we know each other much better. "

Nino was not a little astonished at this mode of procedure, andwondered how far his memory would serve him in such an unexpectedexamination. 

"It will take a long time to ascertain in this way--" he began. 

"This, " said the count coldly, as he opened a volume of Dante, "is thecelestial play by Signor Alighieri. If you anything know, you will itrepeat. "

Nino resigned himself and began repeating the first canto of the"Inferno. " When he had finished it he paused. 

"Forwards, " said the count, without any change of manner. 

"More?" inquired Nino. 

"March!" said the old gentleman in military tone, and the boy went onwith the second canto. 

"Apparently know you the beginning. " The count opened the book atrandom in another place. "The thirtieth canto of 'Purgatory. ' You willnow it repeat. "

"Ah!" cried Nino, "that is where Dante meets Beatrice. "

"My hitherto not-by-any-means-extensive, but always from-the-conscience-undertaken reading, reaches not so far. You will it repeat. So shall weknow. " Nino passed his hand inside his collar as though to free histhroat, and began again, losing all consciousness of his tormentor inhis own enjoyment of the verse. 

"When was the Signor Alighieri born?" inquired Graf von Lira, verysuddenly, as though to catch him. 

"May 1265, in Florence, " answered the other, as quickly. 

"I said when, not where. I know he was in Florence born. When _and_where died he?" The question was asked fiercely. 

"Fourteenth of September 1321, at Ravenna. "

"I think really you something of Signor Alighieri know, " said thecount, and shut up the volume of the poet and the dictionary of dateshe had been obliged to consult to verify Nino's answers. "We willproceed. "

Nino is fortunately one of those people whose faculties serve thembest at their utmost need, and during the three hours--three blessedhours--that Graf von Lira kept him under his eye, asking questions andforcing him to repeat all manner of things, he acquitted himselffairly well. 

"I have now myself satisfied that you something know, " said the count, in his snappish military fashion, and he shut the last book, and neverfrom that day referred in any manner to Nino's extent of knowledge, taking it for granted that he had made an exhaustive investigation. "And now, " he continued, "I desire you to engage for the reading ofliterature with my daughter, upon the usual terms. " Nino was so muchpleased that he almost lost his self-control, but a moment restoredhis reflection. 

"I am honoured--" he began. 

"You are not honoured at all, " interrupted the count, coldly. "Whatare the usual terms?"

"Three or four francs a lesson, " suggested Nino. 

"Three or four francs are not the usual terms. I have inquiries made. Five francs are the usual terms. Three times in the week, at eleven. You will on the morrow begin. Allow me to offer you some cigars. " Andhe ended the interview. 

CHAPTER IV

In a sunny room overlooking the great courtyard of the PalazzoCarmandola, Nino sat down to give Hedwig von Lira her first lesson inItalian literature. He had not the remotest idea what the lesson wouldbe like, for in spite of the tolerably wide acquaintance with thesubject which he owed to my care and my efforts to make a scholar ofhim, he knew nothing about teaching. Nevertheless, as his pupil spokethe language fluently, though with the occasional use of words of loworigin, like all foreigners who have grown up in Rome and have learnedto speak from their servants, he anticipated little difficulty. Hefelt quite sure of being able to interpret the hard places, and he hadlearned from me to know the best and finest passages in a number ofauthors. 

But imagine the feelings of a boy of twenty, perfectly in love, without having the smallest right to be, suddenly placed by the sideof the object of his adoration, and told to teach her all heknows--with her father in the next room and the door open between! Ihave always thought it was a proof of Nino's determined character, that he should have got over this first lesson without accident. 

Hedwig von Lira, the contessina, as we always call her, is just Nino'sage, but she seemed much younger, as the children of the North alwaysdo. I have told you what she was like to look at, and you will notwonder that I called her a statue. She looked as cold as a statue, just as I said, and so I should hardly describe her as beautiful. Butthen I am not a sculptor, nor do I know anything about those arts, though I can tell a good work when I see it. I do not wish to appearprejudiced, and so I will not say anything more about it. I like lifein living things, and sculptors may, if it please them, adore straightnoses, and level brows, and mouths that no one could possibly eatwith. I do not care in the least, and if you say that I once thoughtdifferently, I answer that I do not wish to change your opinion, butthat I will change my own as often as I please. Moreover, if you saythat the contessina did not act like a statue in the sequel, I willargue that if you put marble in the fire it will take longer to heatand longer to cool than clay; only clay is made to be put into thefire, and marble is not. Is not that a cunning answer?

The contessina is a foreigner in every way, although she was bornunder our sun. They have all sorts of talents, these people, but solittle ingenuity in using them that they never accomplish anything. Itseems to amuse them to learn to do a great many things, although theymust know from the beginning that they can never excel in any one ofthem. I dare say the contessina plays on the piano very creditably, for even Nino says she plays well; but is it of any use to her?

Nino very soon found out that she meant to read literature veryseriously, and, what is more, she meant to read it in her own way. Shewas as different from her father as possible in everything else, butin a despotic determination to do exactly as she liked, she resembledhim. Nino was glad that he was not called upon to use his ownjudgment, and there he sat, content to look at her, twisting his handstogether below the table to concentrate his attention and masterhimself; and he read just what she told him to read, expounding thewords and phrases she could not understand. I dare say that with hishair well brushed, and his best coat, and his eyes on the book, helooked as proper as you please. But if the high-born young lady hadreturned the glances he could not refrain from bending upon her nowand then, she would have seen a lover, if she could see at all. 

She did not see. The haughty Prussian damsel hardly noticed the man, for she was absorbed by the professor. Her small ears were allattention, and her slender fingers made notes with a common pencil, sothat Nino wondered at the contrast between the dazzling white hand andthe smooth, black, varnished instrument of writing. He took no accountof time that day, and was startled by the sound of the mid-day gun andthe angry clashing of the bells. The contessina looked up suddenly andmet his eyes, but it was the boy that blushed. 

"Would you mind finishing the canto?" she asked. "There are only tenlines more--" Mind! Nino flushed with pleasure. 

"Anzi--by all means, " he cried. "My time is yours, signorina. "

When they had done he rose, and his face was sad and pale again. Hehated to go, but he was only a teacher, and at his first lesson, too. She also rose, and waited for him to leave the room. He could not holdhis tongue. 

"Signorina--" he stammered, and checked himself. She looked at him, tolisten, but his heart smote him when he had thus arrested her attention. What could he say as he stood bowing? It was sufficiently stupid, whathe said. 

"I shall have the honour of returning to-morrow, the day afterto-morrow, I would say. "

"Yes, " said she, "I believe that is the arrangement. Good-morning, Signor Professore. " The title of professor rang strangely in his ear. Was there the slightest tinge of irony in her voice? Was she laughingat his boyish looks? Ugh! the thought tingled. He bowed himself out. 

That was the first lesson, and the second was like it, I suppose, anda great many others about which I knew nothing, for I was alwaysoccupied in the middle of the day, and did not ask where he went. Itseemed to me that he was becoming a great dandy, but as he never askedme for any money from the day he learnt to copy music I never put anyquestions. He certainly had a new coat before Christmas, and gloves, and very nice boots, that made me smile when I thought of the day whenhe arrived, with only one shoe--and it had a hole in it as big as halfhis foot. But now he grew to be so careful of his appearance thatMariuccia began to call him the "signorino. " De Pretis said he wasmaking great progress, and so I was contented, though I always thoughtit was a sacrifice for him to be a singer. 

Of course, as he went three times a week to the Palazzo Carmandola, hebegan to be used to the society of the contessina. I never understoodhow he succeeded in keeping up the comedy of being a professor. A realRoman would have discovered him in a week. But foreigners aredifferent. If they are satisfied they pay their money and ask noquestions. Besides, he studied all the time, saying that if he everlost his voice he would turn man of letters; which sounded so prudentthat I had nothing to say. Once, we were walking in the Corso, and thecontessina with her father passed in the carriage. Nino raised hishat, but they did not see him, for there is always a crowd in theCorso. 

"Tell me, " he cried, excitedly, as they went by, "is it not true thatshe is beautiful?"

"A piece of marble, my son, " said I, suspecting nothing; and I turnedinto a tobacconist's to buy a cigar. 

One day--Nino says it was in November--the contessina began asking himquestions about the Pantheon, it was in the middle of the lesson, andhe wondered at her stopping to talk. But you may imagine whether hewas glad or not to have an opportunity of speaking about somethingbesides Dante. 

"Yes, signorina, " he answered, "Professor Grandi says it was built forpublic baths; but, of course, we all think it was a temple. "

"Were you ever there at night?" asked she, indifferently, and the sunthrough the window so played with her golden hair that Nino wonderedhow she could ever think of night at all. 

"At night, signorina? No indeed! What should I go there at night todo, in the dark! I was never there at night. "

"I will go there at night, " she said briefly. 

"Ah--you would have it lit up with torches, as they do the Coliseum?"

"No. Is there no moon in Italy, professore?"

"The moon, there is. But there is such a little hole in the top of theRotonda"--that is our Roman name for the Pantheon--"that it would bevery dark. "

"Precisely, " said she. "I will go there at night, and see the moonshining through the hole in the dome. "

"Eh, " cried Nino laughing, "you will see the moon better outside inthe piazza. Why should you go inside, where you can see so little ofit?"

"I will go, " replied the contessina. "The Italians have no sense ofthe beautiful--the mysterious. " Her eyes grew dreamy as she tried tocall up the picture she had never seen. 

"Perhaps, " said Nino humbly. "But, " he added, suddenly brightening atthe thought, "it is very easy, if you would like to go. I will arrangeit. Will you allow me?"

"Yes, arrange it. Let us go on with our lesson. "

I would like to tell you all about it; how Nino saw the sacristanof the Pantheon that evening, and ascertained from his littlealmanac--which has all kinds of wonderful astrological predictions, aswell as the calendar--when it would be full moon. And perhaps whatNino said to the sacristan, and what the sacristan said to Nino, mightbe amusing. I am very fond of these little things, and fond of talkingtoo. For since it is talking that distinguishes us from other animals, I do not see why I should not make the most of it. But you who arelistening to me have seen very little of the Contessina Hedwig as yet, and unless I quickly tell you more, you will wonder how all thecurious things that happened to her could possibly have grown out ofthe attempt of a little singer like Nino to make her acquaintance. Well, Nino is a great singer now, of course, but he was little once;and when he palmed himself off on the old count for an Italian masterwithout my knowledge, nobody had ever heard of him at all. 

Therefore since I must satisfy your curiosity before anything else, and not dwell too long on the details--the dear, commonplacedetails--I will simply say that Nino succeeded without difficulty inarranging with the sacristan of the Pantheon to allow a party offoreigners to visit the building at the full moon, at midnight. I haveno doubt he even expended a franc with the little man, who is very oldand dirty, and keeps chickens in the vestibule--but no details!

Oh the appointed night Nino, wrapped in that old cloak of mine (whichis very warm, though it is threadbare), accompanied the party to thetemple, or church, or whatever you like to call it. The party weresimply the count and his daughter, an Austrian gentleman of theiracquaintance, and the dear baroness--that sympathetic woman who brokeso many hearts and cared not at all for the chatter of the people. Everyone has seen her, with her slim, graceful ways, and her face thatwas like a mulatto peach for darkness and fineness, and her dark eyesand tiger-lily look. They say she lived entirely on sweetmeats andcoffee, and it is no wonder she was so sweet and so dark. She calledme "count"--which is very foolish now, but if I were going to fall inlove, I would have loved her. I would not love a statue. As for theAustrian gentleman, it is not of any importance to describe him. 

These four people Nino conducted to the little entrance at the back ofthe Pantheon, and the sacristan struck a light to show them the way tothe door of the church. Then he put out his taper, and let them do asthey pleased. 

Conceive if you can the darkness of Egypt, the darkness that can befelt, impaled and stabbed through its whole thickness by one mightymoonbeam, clear and clean and cold, from the top to the bottom. Allaround, in the circle of the outer black, lie the great dead in theirtombs, whispering to each other of deeds that shook the world;whispering in a language all their own as yet--the language of thelife to come--the language of a stillness so dread and deep that thevery silence clashes against it, and makes dull, muffled beatingsin ears that strain to catch the dead men's talk: the shadow ofimmortality falling through the shadow of death, and bursting backupon its heavenward course from the depth of the abyss; climbingagain upon its silver self to the sky above, leaving behind the horrorof the deep. 

So in that lonely place at midnight falls the moon upon the floor, andthrough the mystic shaft of rays ascend and descend the souls of thedead. Hedwig stood out alone upon the white circle on the pavementbeneath the dome, and looked up as though she could see the angelscoming and going. And, as she looked, the heavy lace veil that coveredher head fell back softly, as though a spirit wooed her and would fainlook on something fairer than he, and purer. The whiteness clung toher face, and each separate wave of hair was like spun silver. And shelooked steadfastly up. For a moment she stood, and the hushed airtrembled about her. Then the silence caught the tremor, and quivered, and a thrill of sound hovered and spread its wings, and sailed forthfrom the night. 

"Spirto gentil dei sogni miei--"

Ah, Signorina Edvigia, you know that voice now, but you did not knowit then. How your heart stopped, and beat, and stopped again, when youfirst heard that man sing out his whole heartful--you in the light andhe in the dark! And his soul shot out to you upon the sounds, anddied fitfully, as the magic notes dashed their soft wings againstthe vaulted roof above you, and took new life again and throbbedheavenward in broad, passionate waves, till your breath came thick andyour blood ran fiercely--ay, even your cold northern blood--in verytriumph that a voice could so move you. A voice in the dark. For afull minute after it ceased you stood there, and the others, whereverthey might be in the shadow, scarcely breathed. 

That was how Hedwig first heard Nino sing. When at last she recoveredherself enough to ask aloud the name of the singer, Nino had movedquite close to her. 

"It is a relation of mine, signorina, a young fellow who is going tobe an artist. I asked him as a favour to come here and sing to youto-night. I thought it might please you. "

"A relation of yours!" exclaimed the contessina. And the othersapproached so that they all made a group in the disc of moonlight. "Just think, my dear baroness, this wonderful voice is a relation ofSignor Cardegna, my excellent Italian master!" There was a littlemurmur of admiration; then the old count spoke. 

"Signore, " said he, rolling in his gutturals, "it is my duty to verymuch thank you. You will now, if you please, me the honour do, me toyour all-the-talents-possible-possessing relation to present. " Ninohad foreseen the contingency and disappeared into the dark. Presentlyhe returned. 

"I am so sorry, Signor Conte, " he said. "The sacristan tells me thatwhen my cousin had finished he hurried away, saying he was afraid oftaking some ill if he remained here where it is so damp. I will tellhim how much you appreciated him. "

"Curious is it, " remarked the count. "I heard him not going off. "

"He stood in the doorway of the sacristy, by the high altar, SignorConte. "

"In that case is it different. "

"I am sorry, " said Nino. "The signorina was so unkind as to say, lately, that we Italians have no sense of the beautiful, themysterious--"

"I take it back, " said Hedwig, gravely, still standing in themoonlight. "Your cousin has a very great power over the beautiful. "

"And the mysterious, " added the baroness, who had not spoken, "for hisdeparture without showing himself has left me the impression of asweet dream. Give me your arm, Professore Cardegna. I will not stayhere any longer, now that the dream is over. " Nino sprang to her sidepolitely, though, to tell the truth, she did not attract him at firstsight. He freed one arm from the old cloak, and reflected that shecould not tell in the dark how very shabby it was. 

"You give lessons to the Signora von Lira?" she asked, leading himquickly away from the party. 

"Yes--in Italian literature, signora. "

"Ah--she tells me great things of you. Could you not spare me an houror two in the week, professore?"

Here was a new complication. Nino had certainly not contemplatedsetting up for an Italian teacher to all the world when he undertookto give lessons to Hedwig. 

"Signora--" he began, in a protesting voice. 

"You will do it to oblige me, I am sure, " she said, eagerly, and herslight hand just pressed upon his arm a little. Nino had found time toreflect that this lady was intimate with Hedwig, and that he mightpossibly gain an opportunity of seeing the girl he loved if heaccepted the offer. 

"Whenever it pleases you, signora, " he said at length. 

"Can you come to me to-morrow at eleven?" she asked. 

"At twelve, if you please, signora, or half past. Eleven is thecontessina's hour to-morrow. "

"At half-past twelve, then, to-morrow, " said she, and she gave him heraddress, as they went out into the street. "Stop, " she added, "wheredo you live?"

"Number twenty-seven Santa Catarina dei Funari, " he answered, wondering why she asked. The rest of the party came out, and Ninobowed to the ground, as he bid the contessina good-night. 

He was glad to be free of that pressure on his arm, and he was glad tobe alone, to wander through the streets under the moonlight, and tothink over what he had done. 

"There is no risk of my being discovered, " he said to himself, confidently. "The story of the near relation was well imagined, andbesides, it is true. Am I not my own nearest relation? I certainlyhave no others that I know of. And this baroness--what can she want ofme? She speaks Italian like a Spanish cow, and indeed she needs aprofessor badly enough. But why should she take a fancy for me as ateacher. Ah! those eyes! Not the baroness'. Edvigia--Edvigia diLira--Edvigia Ca--Cardegna! Why not?" He stopped to think, and lookedlong at the moonbeams playing on the waters of the fountain. "Why not?But the baroness--may the diavolo fly away with her! What should Ido--I indeed! with a pack of baronesses? I will go to bed anddream--not of a baroness! Macchè, never a baroness in my dreams, witheyes like a snake, and who cannot speak three words properly in theonly language under the sun worth speaking! Not I--I will dream ofEdvigia di Lira--she is the spirit of my dreams. Spirto gentil--" andaway he went, humming the air from the "Favorita" in the top of hishead, as is his wont. 

The next day the contessina could talk of nothing during her lessonbut the unknown singer who had made the night so beautiful for her, and Nino flushed red under his dark skin and ran his fingers wildlythrough his curly hair, with pleasure. But he set his square jaw, thatmeans so much, and explained to his pupil how hard it would be for herto hear him again. For his friend, he said, was soon to make hisappearance on the stage, and of course he could not be heard singingbefore that. And as the young lady insisted, Nino grew silent, andremarked that the lesson was not progressing. Thereupon Hedwigblushed--the first time he had ever seen her blush--and did notapproach the subject again. 

After that he went to the house of the baroness, where he wasevidently expected, for the servant asked his name and immediatelyushered him into her presence. She was one of those lithe, dark womenof good race, that are to be met with all over the world, and she hasbroken many a heart. But she was not like a snake at all, as Nino hadthought at first. She was simply a very fine lady who did exactly whatshe pleased, and if she did not always act rightly, yet I think sherarely acted unkindly. After all, the buon Dio has not made us allparagons of domestic virtue. Men break their hearts for so verylittle, and, unless they are ruined, they melt the pieces at the nextflame and join them together again like bits of sealing wax. 

The baroness sat before a piano in a boudoir, where there was not verymuch light. Every part of the room was crowded with fans, ferns, palms, Oriental carpets and cushions, books, porcelain, majolica, andpictures. You could hardly move without touching some ornament, andthe heavy curtains softened the sunshine, and a small open fire ofwood helped the warmth. There was also an odour of Russian tobacco. The baroness smiled and turned on the piano seat. 

"Ah, professore! You come just in time, " said she. "I am trying tosing such a pretty song to myself, and I cannot pronounce the words. Come and teach me. " Nino contrasted the whole air of this luxuriousretreat with the prim, soldierly order that reigned in the count'sestablishment. 

"Indeed, signora, I come to teach you whatever I can. Here I am. Icannot sing, but I will stand beside you and prompt the words. "

Nino is not a shy boy at all, and he assumed the duties required ofhim immediately. He stood by her side, and she just nodded and beganto sing a little song that stood on the desk of the piano. She did notsing out of tune, but she made wrong notes and pronounced horribly. 

"Pronounce the words for me, " she repeated every now and then. 

"But pronouncing in singing is different from speaking, " he objectedat last, and, fairly forgetting himself and losing patience, he begansoftly to sing the words over. Little by little, as the song pleasedhim, he lost all memory of where he was, and stood beside her singingjust as he would have done to De Pretis, from the sheet, with allthe accuracy and skill that were in him. At the end, he suddenlyremembered how foolish he was. But, after all, he had not sung to thepower of his voice, and she might not recognise in him the singer oflast night. The baroness looked up with a light laugh. 

"I have found you out, " she cried, clapping her hands. "I have foundyou out!"

"What, signora?"

"You are the tenor of the Pantheon--that is all. I knew it. Are youso sorry that I have found you out?" she asked, for Nino turned verywhite, and his eyes flashed at the thought of the folly he hadcommitted. 

CHAPTER V

Nino was thoroughly frightened, for he knew that discovery portendedthe loss of everything most dear to him. No more lessons with Hedwig, no more parties to the Pantheon, no more peace, no more anything. Hewrung his fingers together and breathed hard. 

"Ah, signora!" he found voice to exclaim, "I am sure you cannotbelieve it possible--"

"Why not, Signor Cardegna?" asked the baroness, looking up at him fromunder her half-closed lids with a mocking glance. "Why not? Did younot tell me where you lived? And does not the whole neighbourhood knowthat you are no other than Giovanni Cardegna, commonly called Nino, who is to make his _début_ in the Carnival season?"

"Dio mio!" ejaculated Nino in a hoarse voice, realising that he wasentirely found out, and that nothing could save him. He paced the roomin an agony of despair, and his square face was as white as a sheet. The baroness sat watching him with a smile on her lips, amused at thetempest she had created, and pretending to know much more than shedid. She thought it not impossible that Nino, who was certainly poor, might be supporting himself by teaching Italian while studying for thestage, and she inwardly admired his sense and twofold talent if thatwere really the case. But she was willing to torment him a little, seeing that she had the power. 

"Signor Cardegna"--she called him in her soft voice. He turnedquickly, and stood facing her, his arms crossed. 

"You look like Napoleon at Waterloo, when you stand like that, " shelaughed. He made no answer, waiting to see what she would do with hervictory. "It seems that you are sorry I have discovered you, " sheadded presently, looking down at her hands. 

"Is that all?" he said, with a bitter sneer on his pale young face. 

"Then, since you are sorry, you must have a reason for concealment, "she went on, as though reflecting on the situation. It was deftlydone, and Nino took heart. 

"Signora, " he said, in a trembling voice, "it is natural that a manshould wish to live. I give lessons now, until I have appeared inpublic, to support myself. "

"Ah, I begin to understand, " said the baroness. In reality she beganto doubt, reflecting that if this were the whole truth Nino would betoo proud--or any other Italian--to say it so plainly. She was subtle, the baroness!

"And do you suppose, " he continued, "that if once the Conte de Lirahad an idea that I was to be a public singer he would employ me as ateacher for his daughter?"

"No, but others might, " she objected. 

"But not the count--" Nino bit his lip, fearing he had betrayedhimself. 

"Nor the contessina, " laughed the baroness, completing the sentence. He saw at a glance what she suspected, and instead of keeping coolgrew angry. 

"I came here, Signora Baronessa, not to be cross-examined, but toteach you Italian. Since you do not desire to study, I will saygood-morning. " He took his hat and moved proudly to the door. 

"Come here, " she said, not raising her voice, but still commanding. Heturned, hesitated, and came back. He thought her voice was changed. She rose and swept her silken morning-gown between the chairs andtables till she reached a deep divan on the other side of the room. There she sat down. 

"Come and sit beside me, " she said, kindly, and he obeyed in silence. 

"Do you know what would have happened, " she continued, when he wasseated, "if you had left me just now? I would have gone to the Grafvon Lira and told him that you were not a fit person to teach hisdaughter; that you are a singer, and not a professor at all; and thatyou have assumed this disguise for the sake of seeing his daughter. "But I do not believe that she would have done it. 

"That would have been a betrayal, " said Nino fiercely, looking awayfrom her. She laughed lightly. 

"Is it not natural, " she asked, "that I should make inquiries about myItalian teacher before I begin lessons with him? And if I find he isnot what he pretends to be should I not warn my intimate friends?" Shespoke so reasonably that he was fain to acknowledge that she wasright. 

"It is just, " he said, sullenly. "But you have been very quick to makeyour inquiries, as you call them. "

"The time was short, since you were to come this morning. "

"That is true, " he answered. He moved uneasily. "And now, signora, will you be kind enough to tell me what you intend to do with me!"

"Certainly, since you are more reasonable. You see I treat youaltogether as an artist, and not at all as an Italian master. A greatartist may idle away a morning in a woman's boudoir; a simple teacherof languages must be more industrious. "

"But I am not a great artist, " said Nino, whose vanity--we all haveit--began to flutter a little. 

"You will be one before long, and one of the greatest. You are a boyyet, my little tenor, " said she, looking at him with her dark eyes, "and I might almost be your mother. How old are you, Signor Nino?"

"I was twenty on my last birthday, " he answered, blushing. 

"You see! I am thirty--at least, " she added, with a short laugh. 

"Well, signora, what of that?" said Nino, half amused. "I wish I werethirty myself. "

"I am glad you are not, " said she. "Now listen. You are completely inmy power, do you understand? Yes. And you are apparently very much inlove with my young friend, the Contessina di Lira"--Nino sprang to hisfeet, his face white again, but with rage this time. 

"Signora, " he cried, "this is too much! It is insufferable!Good-morning, " and he made as though he would go. 

"Very well, " said the baroness; "then I will go to the Graf andexplain who you are. Ah--you are calm again in a moment? Sit down. NowI have discovered you, and I have a right to you, do you see? It isfortunate for you that I like you. "

"You! You like me? In truth, you act as though you did! Besides, youare a stranger, Signora Baronessa, and a great lady. I never saw youtill yesterday. " But he resumed his seat. 

"Good, " said she. "Is not the Signorina Edvigia a great lady, and wasthere never a day when she was a stranger too?"

"I do not understand your caprices, signora. In fine, what do you wantof me?"

"It is not necessary that you should understand me, " answered thedark-eyed baroness. "Do you think I would hurt you--or rather yourvoice?"

"I do not know. "

"You know very well that I would not; and as for my caprices, as youcall them, do you think it is a caprice to love music? No, of coursenot. And who loves music loves musicians; at least, " she added, with amost enchanting smile, "enough to wish to have them near one. That isall. I want you to come here often and sing to me. Will you come andsing to me, my little tenor?"

Nino would not have been human had he not felt the flattery throughthe sting. And I always say that singers are the vainest kind ofpeople. 

"It is very like singing in a cage, " he said, in protest. Nevertheless, he knew he must submit; for, however narrow his experience might be, this woman's smile and winning grace, even when she said the hardestthings, told him that she would have her own way. He had the sense tounderstand, too, that whatever her plans might be, their object was tobring him near to herself, a reflection which was extremely soothingto his vanity. 

"If you will come and sing to me--only to me, of course, for I wouldnot ask you to compromise your _début_--but if you will come and singto me, we shall be very good friends. Does it seem to you such aterrible penance to sing to me in my solitude?"

"It is never a penance to sing, " said Nino simply. A shade ofannoyance crossed the baroness' face. 

"Provided, " she said, "it entails nothing. Well, we will not talkabout the terms. "

They say women sometimes fall in love with a voice: _vox et proetereanihil_, as the poet has it. I do not know whether that is whathappened to the baroness at first, but it has always seemed strange tome that she should have given herself so much trouble to secure Nino, unless she had a very strong fancy for him. I, for my part, think thatwhen a lady of her condition takes such a sudden caprice into herhead, she thinks it necessary to maltreat the poor man a little atfirst, just to satisfy her conscience, and to be able to say laterthat she did not encourage him. I have had some experience, aseverybody is aware, and so I may speak boldly. On the other hand, aman like Nino, when he is in love, is absolutely blind to other women. There is only one idea in his soul that has any life, and everyoneoutside that idea is only so much landscape; they are no better forhim--the other women--than a museum of wax dolls. 

The baroness, as you have seen, had Nino in her power, and there wasnothing for it but submission; he came and went at her bidding, andoften she would send for him when he least expected it. He would do asshe commanded, somewhat sullenly and with a bad grace, but obediently, for all that; she had his destiny in her hands, and could in a momentfrustrate all his hopes. But, of course, she knew that if she betrayedhim to the count, Nino would be lost to her also, since he came to heronly in order to maintain his relations with Hedwig. 

Meanwhile the blue-eyed maiden of the North waxed fitful. Sometimestwo or three lessons would pass in severe study. Nino, who always tookcare to know the passages they were reading, so that he might look ather instead of at his book, had instituted an arrangement by whichthey sat opposite each other at a small table. He would watch herevery movement and look, and carry away a series of photographs ofher, --a whole row, like the little books of Roman views they sell inthe streets, strung together on a strip of paper, --and these views ofher lasted with him for two whole days, until he saw her again. Butsometimes he would catch a glimpse of her in the interval driving withher father. 

There were other days when Hedwig could not be induced to study, butwould overwhelm Nino with questions about his wonderful cousin whosang, so that he longed with his whole soul to tell her it was hehimself who had sung. She saw his reluctance to speak about it, andshe blushed when she mentioned the night at the Pantheon; but for herlife she could not help talking of the pleasure she had had. Herblushes seemed like the promise of spring roses to her lover, whodrank of the air of her presence till that subtle ether ran like firethrough his veins. He was nothing to her, he could see; but the singerof the Pantheon engrossed her thoughts and brought the hot blood toher cheek. The beam of moonlight had pierced the soft virgin darknessof her sleeping soul, and found a heart so cold and spotless that evena moon ray was warm by comparison. And the voice that sang "Spirtogentil dei sogni miei" had itself become by memory the gentle spiritof her own dreams. She is so full of imagination, this statue ofNino's, that she heard the notes echoing after her by day and night, till she thought she must go mad unless she could hear the realityagain. As the great solemn statue of Egyptian Memnon murmurs sweet, soft sounds to its mighty self at sunrise, a musical whisper in thedesert, so the pure white marble of Nino's living statue vibrated withstrange harmonies all the day long. 

One night, as Nino walked homeward with De Pretis, who had come tosupper with us, he induced the maestro to go out of his way at leasthalf a mile, to pass the Palazzo Carmandola. It was a still night, not over-cold for December, and there were neither stars nor moon. As they passed the great house Nino saw a light in Hedwig'ssitting-room--the room where he gave her the lessons. It was late, and she must be alone. On a sudden he stopped. 

"What is the matter?" asked De Pretis. 

For all answer, Nino, standing in the dark street below, lifted up hisvoice and sang the first notes of the air he always associated withhis beautiful contessina. Before he had sung a dozen bars the windowopened, and the girl's figure could be seen, black against the lightwithin. He went on for a few notes, and then ceased suddenly. 

"Let us go, " he said in a low voice to Ercole; and they went away, leaving the contessina listening in the stillness to the echo of theirfeet. A Roman girl would not have done that; she would have satquietly inside, and never have shown herself. But foreigners are soimpulsive!

Nino never heard the last of those few notes, any more than thecontessina, literally speaking, ever heard the end of the song. 

"Your cousin, about whom you make so much mystery, passed under mywindow last night, " said the young lady the next day, with the usualdisplay of carnation in her cheeks at the mention of him. 

"Indeed, signorina?" said Nino, calmly, for he expected the remark. "And since you have never seen him, pray how did you know it was he?"

"How should one know?" she asked, scornfully. "There are not two suchvoices as his in Italy. He sang. "

"He sang?" cried Nino, with an affectation of alarm. "I must tell themaestro not to let him sing in the open air; he will lose his voice. "

"Who is his master?" asked Hedwig, suddenly. 

"I cannot remember the name just now, " said Nino, looking away. "ButI will find out, if you wish. " He was afraid of putting De Pretis toany inconvenience by saying that the young singer was his pupil. "However, " he continued, "you will hear him sing as often as youplease, after he makes his _début_ next month. " He sighed when hethought that it would all so soon be over. For how could he disguisehimself any longer, when he should be singing in public every night?But Hedwig clapped her hands. 

"So soon?" she cried. "Then there will be an end of the mystery. "

"Yes, " said Nino, gravely "there will be an end of the mystery. "

"At least you can tell me his name, now that we shall all know it. "

"Oh, his name--his name is Cardegna, like mine. He is my cousin, youknow. " And they went on with the lesson. But something of the kindoccurred almost every time he came, so that he felt quite sure that, however indifferent he might be in her eyes, the singer, the Nino ofwhom she knew nothing, interested her deeply. 

Meanwhile he was obliged to go very often to the baroness' scentedboudoir, which smelled of incense and other Eastern perfumes, wheneverit did not smell of cigarettes; and there he sang little songs, andsubmitted patiently to her demands for more and more music. She wouldsit by the piano and watch him as he sang, wondering whether he werehandsome or ugly, with his square face and broad throat and the blackcircles round his eyes. He had a fascination for her, as beingsomething utterly new to her. 

One day she stood and looked over the music as he sang, almosttouching him, and his hair was so curly and soft to look at that shewas seized with a desire to stroke it, as Mariuccia strokes the oldgray cat for hours together. The action was quite involuntary, and herfingers rested only a moment on his head. 

"It is so curly, " she said, half playfully, half apologetically. ButNino started as though he had been stung, and his dark face grew pale. A girl could not have seemed more hurt at a strange man's touch. 

"Signora!" he cried, springing to his feet. The baroness, who is asdark as he, blushed almost red, partly because she was angry, andpartly because she was ashamed. 

"What a boy you are!" she said, carelessly enough, and turned away tothe window, pushing back one heavy curtain with her delicate hand, asif she would look out. 

"Pardon me, signora, I am not a boy, " said Nino, speaking to the backof her head as he stood behind her. "It is time we understood eachother better. I love like a man and I hate like a man. I love someonevery, much. "

"Fortunate contessina!" laughed the baroness, mockingly, withoutturning round. 

"It does not concern you, signora, to know whom I love, nor, if youknow, to speak of her. I ask you a simple question. If you loved a manwith your whole soul and heart, would you allow another man to standbeside you and stroke your hair, and say it was curly?" The baronessburst out laughing. "Do not laugh, " he continued. "Remember that I amin your power only so long as it pleases me to submit to you. Do notabuse your advantage, or I will be capable of creating for myselfsituations quite as satisfactory as that of Italian master to theSignorina di Lira. "

"What do you mean?" she asked, turning suddenly upon him. "I supposeyou would tell me that you will make advantages for yourself whichyou will abuse against me? What do you mean?"

"I do not mean that. I mean only that I may not wish to give lessonsto the contessina much longer. " By this time the baroness hadrecovered her equanimity; and as she would have been sorry to loseNino, who was a source of infinite pleasure and amusement to her, shedecided to pacify him instead of teasing him any more. 

"Is it not very foolish for us to quarrel about your curly hair?" saidshe. "We have been such good friends always. " It might have been threeweeks, her "always. "

"I think it is, " answered Nino, gravely. "But do not stroke my hairagain, Signora Baronessa, or I shall be angry. " He was quite serious, if you believe it, though he was only twenty. He forthwith sat down tothe piano again and sang on. The baroness sat very silent and scarcelylooked at him; but she held her hands clasped on her knee, and seemedto be thinking. After a time Nino stopped singing and sat silent also, absently turning over the sheets of music. It was warm in the room, and the sounds from the street were muffled and far away. 

"Signor Nino, " said the lady at last, in a different voice, "I ammarried. "

"Yes, signora, " he replied, wondering what would come next. 

"It would be very foolish of me to care for you. "

"It would also be very wicked, " he said, calmly; for he is wellgrounded in religion. The baroness stared at him in some surprise, butseeing he was perfectly serious, she went on. 

"Precisely, as you say, very wicked. That being the case, I havedecided not to care for you any more--I mean not to care for you atall. I have made up my mind to be your friend. "

"I am much obliged to your ladyship, " he answered, without moving amuscle. For you see, he did not believe her. 

"Now tell me, then, Signor Nino, are you in earnest in what you aredoing? Do you really set your heart on doing this thing?"

"What?" asked Nino, annoyed at the persistence of the woman. 

"Why need you be afraid to understand me? Can you not forgive me? Canyou not believe in me that I will be your friend? I have alwaysdreamed of being the friend of a great artist. Let me be yours, andbelieve me, the thing you have in your heart shall be done. "

"I would like to hope so, " he said. But he smiled incredulously. "Ican only say that if you can accomplish what it is in my heart to do, I will go through fire and water at your bidding; and if you are notmocking me, I am very grateful for the offer. But if you please, signora, we will not speak any more of this at present. I may be agreat artist some day. Sometimes I feel sure that I shall. But now Iam simply Giovanni Cardegna, teacher of literature; and the highestfavour you can confer on me is not to deprive me of my means ofsupport by revealing to the Conte di Lira my other occupation. I mayfail hopelessly at the outset of my artistic career, and in that caseI shall certainly remain a teacher of language. "

"Very well, " said the baroness, in a subdued voice; for, in spite ofher will and wilfulness, this square-faced boy of mine was more than amatch for her. "Very well, you will believe me another day, and now Iwill ask you to go, for I am tired. "

I cannot be interrupted by your silly questions about the exact way inwhich things happened. I must tell this story in my own way or not atall; and I am sacrificing a great deal to your taste in cutting outall the little things that I really most enjoy telling. Whether youare astonished at the conduct of the baroness, after a three weeks'acquaintance, or not, I care not a fig. It is just the way ithappened, and I daresay she was really madly in love with Nino. If Ihad been Nino I should have been in love with her. But I would likeyou to admire my boy's audacity, and to review the situation, before Igo on to speak of that important event in his life, his firstappearance on the boards of the opera. At the time of his _début_ hewas still disguised as a teacher of Italian to the young contessina. She thought him interesting and intelligent, but that was all. Herthoughts were entirely, though secretly, engrossed by the mysterioussinger whom she had heard twice but had not seen as far as she knew. Nino, on the other hand, loved her to desperation, and would haveacted like a madman had he been deprived of his privilege of speakingto her three times a week. He loved her with the same earnestdetermination to win her that he had shown for years in the study ofhis art, and with all the rest of his nature besides, which is sayingmuch--not to mention his soul, of which he thinks a great deal morethan I do. 

Besides this, the baroness had apparently fallen in love with him, hadmade him her intimate, and flattered him in a way to turn his head. Then she seemed to have thought better of her passion, and hadpromised him her friendship, --a promise which he himself considered ofno importance whatever. As for the old Conte de Lira, he read theGerman newspapers, and cared for none of these things. De Pretis tookan extra pinch of his good snuff, when he thought that his liberalideas might yet be realised, and a man from the people marry a greatlady by fairly winning her. Do not, after this, complain that I haveleft you in the dark, or that you do not know how it happened. It isas clear as water, and it was about four months from the time Nino sawHedwig in St. Peter's to the time when he first sang in public. 

Christmas passed by, --thank heaven the municipality has driven awaythose most detestable pifferari who played on their discordantbagpipes at every corner for a fortnight, and nearly drove meerazy, --and the Befana, as we call the Epiphany in Rome, was gone, with its gay racket, and the night fair in the Piazza Navona, and thedays for Nino's first appearance drew near. I never knew anythingabout the business arrangements for the _début_, since De Pretissettled all that with Jacovacci, the impresario; but I know that therewere many rehearsals, and that I was obliged to stand security to thetheatrical tailor, together with De Pretis, in order that Nino mighthave his dress made. As for the cowl in the last act, De Pretis has abrother who is a monk, and between them they put together a verydecent friar's costume; and Mariuccia had a good piece of rope whichNino used for a girdle. 

"What does it matter?" he said, with much good sense. "For if I singwell, they will not look at my monk's hood; and if I sing badly, I maybe dressed like the Holy Father and they will hiss me just the same. But in the beginning I must look like a courtier, and be dressed likeone. "

"I suppose so, " said I; "but I wish you had taken to philosophy. "

CHAPTER VI

I shall never forget the day of Nino's first appearance. You mayimagine whether we were in a state of excitement or not, after allthese years of studying and waiting. There was much more trouble andworry than if he had written a great book, and was just to publish it, and receive the homage of all the learning and talent in Europe; whichis the kind of _début_ I had hoped he would make in life, insteadof putting on a foolish dress and stamping about on a stage, andsqualling love songs to a packed house, making pantomime with hishands, and altogether behaving like an idiot, --a crowd of people readyto hiss him at the slightest indication of weakness, or to carry himon their shoulders if they fancied his voice to their taste. 

No wonder Nino was sad and depressed all day, and when he tried hisvoice in the afternoon thought it was less clear than usual, andstared at himself in the looking-glass, wondering whether he were nottoo ugly altogether, as I always told him. To tell the truth, he wasnot so ugly as he had been; for the months with the contessina hadrefined him singularly, and perhaps he had caught a certain grace ofmanner from the baroness. He had grown more silent too, and seemedalways preoccupied, as well he might be: but he had concealed hisaffair with the Lira family from me until that day, and I supposed himanxious about his appearance. 

Early in the morning came De Pretis, and suggested that it would bebetter for Nino to take a walk and breathe the fresh air a little; soI bade him go, and I did not see him again until the afternoon. DePretis said that the only cause for anxiety was from stage fright, andwent away taking snuff and flourishing his immense cottonhandkerchief. I thought a man must be a fool to work for years inorder to sing, and then, when he had learned to do it quite well, tobe afraid of showing what he knew. I did not think Nino would befrightened. 

Of course there was a final rehearsal at eleven, and Nino put off thehour of the lesson with the contessina to three in the afternoon, bysome excuse or other. He must have felt very much pressed for time, having to give her a lesson on the very day of his coming out; andbesides, he knew very well that it might be the last of his days withher, and that a great deal would depend on the way he bore himself athis trial. He sang badly, or thought he did, at the rehearsal, andgrew more and more depressed and grave as the day advanced. He cameout of the little stage door of the Apollo theatre at Tor di Nona, andhis eyes fell upon the broad bills and posters announcing the firstappearance of "Giovanni Cardegna, the most distinguished pupil of theMaestro Ercole de Pretis, in Donizetti's opera the 'Favorita. '" Hisheart sank at the sight of his own name, and he turned towards theBridge of Sant' Angelo to get away from it. He was the last to leavethe theatre, and De Pretis was with him. 

At that moment he saw Hedwig von Lira sitting in an open carriage infront of the box office. De Pretis bowed low; she smiled; and Ninotook off his hat, but would not go near her, escaping in the oppositedirection. He thought she looked somewhat surprised, but his only ideawas to get away, lest she should call him and put some awkwardquestion. 

An hour and a half later he entered her sitting-room. There she sat, as usual, with her books, awaiting him perhaps for the last time, afair, girlish figure with gold hair, but oh, so cold!--it makes meshiver to think of how she used to look. Possibly there was adreaminess about her blue eyes that made up for her manner; but howNino could love her I cannot understand. It must have been like makinglove to a pillar of ice. 

"I am much indebted to you for allowing me to come at this hour, signorina, " he said, as he bowed. 

"Ah, professore, it looks almost as though it were you yourself whowere to make your _début_" said she, laughing and leaning back in herchair. "Your name is on every corner in Rome, and I saw you coming outof a side door of the theatre this morning. " Nino trembled, butreflected that if she had suspected anything she would not have madeso light of it. 

"The fact is, signorina, my cousin is so nervous that he begged meearnestly to be present at the rehearsal this morning; and as it isthe great event of his life, I could not easily refuse him. I presumeyou are going to hear him, since I saw your carriage at the theatre. "

"Yes. At the last minute my father wanted to change our box for onenearer the stage, and so we went ourselves. The baroness--you know, the lady who went with us to the Pantheon--is going with us to-night. "It was the first time Hedwig had mentioned her, and it was evidentthat Nino's intimacy with the baroness had been kept a secret. Howlong would it be so? Mechanically he proceeded with the lesson, thinking mournfully that he should never give her another. But Hedwigwas more animated than he had ever seen her, and often stopped to askquestions about the coming performance. It was evident that she wasentirely absorbed with the thought of at last hearing to its fullestextent the voice that had haunted her dreams; most of all, with theanticipation of what this wonderful singer would be like. Dwelling onthe echo of his singing for months had roused her interest andcuriosity to such a pitch that she could hardly be quiet a moment, orthink calmly of what she was to enjoy; and yet she looked so very coldand indifferent at most times. But Nino had noticed all this, andrejoiced at it; young as he was, however, he understood that thediscovery she was about to make would be a shock that would certainlyproduce some palpable result, when she should see him from her box inthe theatre. He trembled for the consequences. 

The lesson was over all too soon, and Nino lingered a moment to seewhether the very last drops of his cup of happiness might not still besweet. He did not know when he should see her again, to speak withher; and though he determined it should not be long, the future seemedvery uncertain, and he would look on her loveliness while he might. 

"I hope you will like my cousin's singing, " he said, rather timidly. 

"If he sings as he has sung before he is the greatest artist living, "she said calmly, as though no one would dispute it. "But I am curiousto see him as well as to hear him. "

"He is not handsome, " said Nino, smiling a little. "In fact, there isa family resemblance; he is said to look like me. "

"Why did you not tell me that before?" she asked quickly, and fixedher blue eyes on Nino's face as though she wished to photograph thefeatures in her mind. 

"I did not suppose the signorina would think twice about a singer'sappearance, " said Nino quietly. Hedwig blushed and turned away, busying herself with her books. At that moment Graf von Lira enteredfrom the next room. Nino bowed. 

"Curious is it, " said the count, "that you and the about-to-make-his-appearance tenor should the same name have. "

"He is a near relation, Signor Conte, --the same whom you heard sing inthe Pantheon. I hope you will like his voice. "

"That is what we shall see, Signor Professore, " answered the otherseverely. He had a curious way of bowing, as though he were made onlyin two pieces, from his waist to his heels, and from his waist to thecrown of his head. Nino went his way sadly, and wondering how Hedwigwould look when she should recognise him from her box in the theatrethat very evening. 

It is a terrible and a heart-tearing thing to part from the woman oneloves. That is nothing new, you say. Everyone knows that, Perhaps so, though I think not. Only those can know it who have experienced it, and for them no explanations are in any way at all necessary. The mereword "parting" calls up such an infinity of sorrow that it is betterto draw a veil over the sad thing and bury it out of sight and putupon it the seal on which is graven "No Hope. "

Moreover, when a man only supposes, as Nino did, that he is leavingthe woman he loves, or is about to leave her, until he can devise somenew plan for seeing her, the case is not so very serious. Nevertheless, Nino, who is of a very tender constitution of theaffections, suffered certain pangs which are always hard to bear, andas he walked slowly down the street he hung his head low, and did notlook like a man who could possibly be successful in anything he mightundertake that day. Yet it was the most important day of his life, andhad it not been that he had left Hedwig with little hope of evergiving her another lesson, he would have been so happy that the wholeair would have seemed dancing with sunbeams and angels and flowers. Ithink that when a man loves he cares very little for what he does. The greatest success is indifferent to him, and he cares not at allfor failure in the ordinary undertakings of life. These are myreflections, and they are worth something, because I once loved verymuch myself, and was parted from her I loved many times before thelast parting. 

It was on this day that Nino came to me and told me all the history ofthe past months, of which I knew nothing; but, as you know all aboutit, I need not tell you what the conversation was like, until he hadfinished. Then I told him he was the prince and chief of donkeys, which was no more than the truth, as everybody will allow. He onlyspread out his palms and shrugged his shoulders, putting his head onone side, as though to say he could not help it. 

"Is it perhaps my fault that you are a little donkey?" I asked; foryou may imagine whether I was angry or not. 

"Certainly not, Sor Cornelio, " he said. "It is entirely my own doing;but I do not see that I am a donkey. "

"Blood of Bacchus!" I ejaculated, holding up my hands. "He does notbelieve he is a great stupid!" But Nino was not angry at all. Hebusied himself a little with his costume, which was laid out on thepiano, with the sword and the tinsel collar and all the rest of it. 

"I am in love, " he said. "What would you have?"

"I would have you put a little giudizio, just a grain of judgment andcommon sense, into your love affairs. Why, you go about it as thoughit were the most innocent thing in the world to disguise yourself, andpresent yourself as a professor in a nobleman's house, in order tomake love to his daughter! You, to make love to a noble damigella, ayoung countess, with a fortune! Go back to Serveti, and marry thefirst contadina girl you meet, it is much more fitting, if you mustneeds marry at all. I repeat it, you are an ignorant donkey!"

"Eh!" cried Nino, perfectly unmoved, "if I am ignorant, it is not forlack of your teaching; and as for being the beast of burden to whichyou refer, I have heard it said that you were once in love yourself. Meanwhile, I have told you this, because there will perhaps betrouble, and I did not intend you to be surprised. "

"Surprised?" said I. "I would not be surprised at anything you mightfancy doing now. No, I would not dream of being surprised!"

"So much the better, " answered Nino, imperturbably. He looked sad andweary, though, and as I am a prudent man I put my anger away to coolfor a little while, and indulged in a cigar until it should be time togo to the theatre; for of course I went with him, and Mariuccia too, to help him with his dress. Poor old Mariuccia! she had dressed himwhen he was a ragged little boy, and she was determined to put thefinishing touches to his appearance now that he was about to be agreat man, she said. His dressing-room was a narrow little place, sufficiently ill lighted, and there was barely space to turn round. Mariuccia, who had brought the cat and had her pocket full of roastedchestnuts, sat outside on a chair until he was ready for her; and I amsure that if she had spent her life in the profession of adorningplayers she could not have used her fingers more deftly in thearrangement of the collar and sword. Nino had a fancy to wear amoustache and a pointed beard through the first part of the opera;saying that a courtier always had hair on his face, but that he wouldnaturally shave if he turned monk. I represented to him that it wasneedless expense, since he must deposit the value of the false beardwith the theatre barber, who lives opposite; and it was twenty-threefrancs. Besides, he would look like a different man--two separatecharacters. 

"I do not care a cabbage for that, " said Nino. If they cannotrecognise me with their ears, they need not trouble themselves torecognise me at all. "

"It is a fact that their ears are quite long enough, " said Mariuccia. 

"Hush, Mariuccia!" I said. "The Roman public is the most intelligentpublic in the world. " And at this she grumbled. 

But I knew well enough why he wanted to wear the beard. He had a fancyto put off the evil moment as long as possible, so that Hedwig mightnot recognise him till the last act, --a foolish fancy, in truth, for awoman's eyes are not like a man's; and though Hedwig had never thoughttwice about Nino's personality, she had not sat opposite him threetimes a week for nearly four months without knowing all his looks andgestures. It is an absurd idea, too, to attempt to fence with time, when a thing must come in the course of an hour or two. What is it, after all, the small delay you can produce? The click of a few moreseconds in the clock-work, before the hammer smites its angry warningon the bell, and leaves echoes of pain writhing through the poorbronze, that is Time. As for Eternity, it is a question of thecalculus, and does not enter into a singer's first appearance, norinto the recognition of a lover. If it did, I would give you aneloquent dissertation upon it, so that you would yawn and take snuff, and wish me carried off by the diavolo to some place where I mightlecture on the infinite without fear of being interrupted, or ofkeeping sinners like you unnecessarily long awake. There will be nohurry then. Poor old diavolo! he must have a dull time of it amongstall those heretics. Perhaps he has a little variety, for they say hehas written up on his door, "Ici l'on parle français, " since Monsieurde Voltaire died. But I must go on, or you will never be any wiserthan you are now, which is not saying overmuch. 

I am not going to give you a description of the "Favorita, " which youmay hear a dozen times a year at the theatre, for more or lessmoney--but it is only a franc if you stand; quite enough, too. I wentupon the stage before it began, and peeped through the curtain to seewhat kind of an audience there was. It is an old curtain, and there isa hole in it on the right-hand side, which De Pretis says was made bya foreign tenor some years ago between the acts; and Jacovacci, theimpresario, tried to make him pay five francs to have it repaired, butdid not get the money. It is a better hole than the one in the middle, which is so far from both sides of the house that you cannot see thepeople well. So I looked through, and there, sure enough, in a boxvery near to the stage, sat the Contessina di Lira and the baroness, whom I had never seen before, but recognised from Nino's description;and behind them sat the count himself, with his great gray moustachesand a white cravat. They made me think of the time when I used to goto the theatre myself and sit in a box, and applaud or hiss, just as Ipleased. Dio mio! what changes in this world!

I recognised also a great many of our noble ladies, with jewels andother ornaments, and it seemed to me that some of them were much morebeautiful than the German contessina whom Nino had elected to worship, though she was well enough, to be sure, in white silk and white fur, with her little gold cross at her throat. To think that a statue likethat, brought up with all the proprieties, should have such a strangechapter of life! But my eye began to smart from peering through thelittle hole, and just then a rough-looking fellow connected with thestage reminded me that, whatever relation I might be to the primotenore, I was not dressed to appear in the first act; then theaudience began to stamp and groan because the performance did notbegin, and I went away again to tell Nino that he had a packed house. I found De Pretis giving him blackberry syrup, which he had broughtin a bottle, and entreating him to have courage. Indeed, it seemedto me that Nino had the more courage of the two; for De Pretislaughed and cried and blew his nose, and took snuff with his greatfat fingers, and acted altogether like a poor fool; while Nino sat ona rush-bottomed chair and watched Mariuccia, who was stroking the oldcat and nibbling roasted chestnuts, declaring all the while that Ninowas the most beautiful object she had ever seen. Then the bass and thebaritone came together and spoke cheering words to Nino, and invitedhim to supper afterwards; but he thanked them kindly, and told themthat he was expected at home, and would go with them after the nextperformance--if there ever were a "next. " He thought he might fail atthe last minute. 

Nino had judged more rightly than I when he supposed that his beardand moustaches would disguise him from Hedwig during the first twoacts. She recognised the wondrous voice, and she saw the strongresemblance he had spoken of. Once or twice as he looked toward her, it seemed indeed that the eyes must be his, with their deep circlesand serious gaze. But it was absurd to suppose it anything more than aresemblance. As the opera advanced, it became evident that Nino wasmaking a success. Then in the second act it was clear that the successwas growing to be an ovation, and the ovation a furore, in which thehouse became entirely demoralised, and vouchsafed to listen only solong as Nino was singing--screaming with delight before he hadfinished what he had to sing in each scene. People sent their servantsaway in hot haste to buy flowers wherever they could, and he came backto his dressing-room, from the second act, carrying bouquets by thedozen, small bunches and big, such as people had been able to get orhad brought with them. His eyes shone like the coals in Mariuccia'sscaldino, as he entered, and he was pale through his paint. He couldhardly speak for joy; but, as old habits return unconsciously at greatmoments in a man's life, he took the cat on his knee and pulled itstail. 

"Sing thou also, little beast, " he said, gravely; and he pulled thetail till the cat squeaked a little, and he was satisfied. 

"Bene!" he cried; "and now for the tonsure and the frock. " SoMariuccia was turned out into the passage while he changed his dress. De Pretis came back a moment later and tried to help him, but he wasso much overcome that he could only shed tears and give a last word ofadvice for the next act. 

"You must not sing it too loud, Nino mio, " he said. 

"Diavolo!" said Nino. "I should think not!"

"But you must not squeak it out in a little wee false voice, as smallas this"; the maestro held up his thumb and finger, with a pinch ofsnuff between them. 

"Bah? Sor Ercole, do you take me for a soprano?" cried the boy, laughing, as he washed off the paint and the gum where the beard hadstuck. Presently he got into his frock, which, as I told you, was areal one, provided by Ercole's brother, the Franciscan--quite quietly, of course, for it would seem a dreadful thing to use a real monk'sfrock in an opera. Then we fastened the rope round his waist, andsmoothed his curly hair a little to give him a more pious aspect. Helooked as white as a pillow when the paint was gone. 

"Tell me a little, my father, " said old Mariuccia, mocking him, "doyou fast on Sundays, that you look so pale?" Whereat Nino struck anattitude, and began singing a love song to the ancient woman. Indeed, she was joking about the fast, for she had expended my substance oflate in fattening Nino, as she called it, for his appearance, andthere was to be broiled chickens for supper that very night. He wasonly pale because he was in love. As for me, I made up my mind tostand in the slides, so that I could see the contessina; for Nino hadwhispered to me that she had not yet recognised him, though she staredhard across the footlights. Therefore I took up a good position on theleft of the stage, facing the Lira box, which was on the right. 

The curtain went up, and Nino stood there, looking like a real monk, with a book in his hand and his eyes cast down, as he began to walkslowly along. I saw Hedwig von Lira's gaze rest on his square, paleface at least one whole minute. Then she gave a strange little cry, sothat many people in the house looked towards her; and she leaned farback in the shadow of the deep box, while the reflected glare of thefootlights just shone faintly on her features, making them look morelike marble than ever. The baroness was smiling to herself, amused ather companion's surprise, and the old count stared stolidly for amoment or two, and then turned suddenly to his daughter. 

"Very curious is it, " he was probably saying, "that this tenor shouldso much your Italian professor resemble. " I could almost see his grayeyes sparkle angrily across the theatre. But as I looked, a soundrose on the heated air, the like of which I have never known. To tellthe truth, I had not heard the first two acts, for I did not supposethere was any great difference between Nino's singing on the stage andhis singing at home, and I still wished he might have chosen someother profession. But when I heard this I yielded, at least for thetime, and I am not sure that my eyes were as clear as usual. 

"Spirto gentil dei sogni miei"--the long sweet notes sighed themselvesto death on his lips, falling and rising magically like a mystic angelsong, and swaying their melody out into the world of lights andlisteners; so pathetic, so heart-breaking, so laden with death andwith love, that it was as though all the sorrowing souls in our poorRome breathed in one soft sigh together. Only a poor monk dying oflove in a monastery, tenderly and truly loving to the bitter end. Diomio! there are perhaps many such. But a monk like this, with a facelike a conqueror, set square in its whiteness, and yet so wretched tosee in his poor patched frock and his bare feet; a monk, too, notacting love, but really and truly ready to die for a beautiful womannot thirty feet from him in the house; above all, a monk with a voicethat speaks like the clarion call of the day of judgment in its wrath, and murmurs more plaintively and sadly in sorrow than ever the poorPeri sighed at the gates of Paradise--such a monk, what could he notmake people feel?

The great crowd of men and women sat utterly stilled and intent tillhe had sung the very last note. Not a sound was heard to offend thesorrow that spoke from the boy's lips. Then all those people seemed todraw three long breaths of wonder--a pause, a thrilling tremor in theair, and then there burst to the roof such a roar of cries, such ahuge thunder of hands and voices, that the whole house seemed to rockwith it, and even in the street outside they say the noise wasdeafening. 

Alone on the stage stood Nino, his eyes fixed on Hedwig von Lira inher box. I think that she alone of all that multitude made no sound, but only gripped the edge of the balcony hard in her white hands, andleaned far forward with straining eyes and beating heart to satisfyher wonder. She knew well enough, now, that there was no mistake. Thehumble little Professor Cardegna, who had patiently explained Danteand Leopardi to her for months, bowing to the ground in her presence, and apologising when he corrected her mistakes, as though his wholelife was to be devoted to teaching foreigners his language; thedecently clad young man, who was always pale, and sometimes patheticwhen he spoke of himself, was no other than Giovanni Cardegna thetenor, singing aloud to earth and heaven with his glorious greatvoice--a man on the threshold of a European fame, such as falls onlyto the lot of a singer or a conqueror. More, he was the singer of herdreams, who had for months filled her thoughts with music and herheart with a strange longing, being until now a voice Only. There hestood looking straight at her, --she was not mistaken, --as though tosay, "I have done it for you, and for you only. " A woman must be morethan marble to feel no pride in the intimate knowledge that a greatpublic triumph has been gained solely for her sake. She must be colderthan ice if she cannot see her power when a conqueror loves her. 

The marble had felt the fire, and the ice was in the flame at last. Nino, with his determination to be loved, had put his statue into avery fiery furnace, and in the young innocence of his heart hadprepared such a surprise for his lady as might have turned the head ofa hardened woman of the world, let alone an imaginative German girl, with a taste for romance--or without; it matters little. All Germansare full of imagination, and that is the reason they know so much. Forthey not only know all that is known by other people, but also allthat they themselves imagine, which nobody else can possibly know. Andif you do not believe this, you had better read the works of oneFichte, a philosopher. 

I need not tell you any more about Nino's first appearance. It was oneof those really phenomenal successes that seem to cling to certainpeople through life. He was very happy and very silent when it wasover; and we were the last to leave the theatre, for we feared theenthusiasm of the crowd. So we waited till everyone had gone, and thenmarched home together, for it was a fine night. I walked on one sideof Nino and De Pretis on the other, all of us carrying as many flowersas we could; Mariuccia came behind, with the cat under her shawl. Idid not discover until we reached home why she had brought the beast. Then she explained that, as there was so much food in the kitchen inanticipation of our supper, she had been afraid to leave the cat alonein the house, lest we should find nothing left to eat when wereturned. This was sufficiently prudent for a scatter-brained oldspendthrift like Mariuccia. 

That was a merry supper, and De Pretis became highly dramatic when wegot to the second flask. 

CHAPTER VII

On the day following Nino's _début_, Maestro Ercole de Pretis foundhimself in hot water, and the choristers at St. Peter's noticed thathis skull-cap was awry, and that he sang out of tune; and once hetried to take a pinch of snuff when there was only three bars' rest inthe music, so that instead of singing C sharp he sneezed very loud. Then all the other singers giggled, and said, "Salute!"--which wealways say to a person who sneezes--quite audibly. 

It was not that Ercole had heard anything from the Graf von Lira asyet; but he expected to hear, and did not relish the prospect. Indeed, how could the Prussian gentleman fail to resent what the maestro haddone in introducing to him a singer disguised as a teacher? Itchanced, also, that the contessina took a singing lesson that very dayin the afternoon, and it was clear that the reaping of his evil deedswas not far off. His conscience did not trouble him at all, it istrue, for I have told you that he has liberal ideas about the rightof marriage; but his vanity was sorely afflicted at the idea ofabandoning such a very noble and creditable pupil as the Contessina diLira. He applauded himself for furthering Nino's wild schemes, and heblamed himself for being so reckless about his own interests. Everymoment he expected a formal notice from the count to discontinue thelessons. But still it did not come, and at the appointed hour Ercole'swife helped him to put on his thick winter coat, and wrapped hiscomforter about his neck, and pulled his big hat over his eyes--forthe weather was threatening, and sent him trudging off to the PalazzoCarmandola. 

Though Ercole is stout of heart, and has broad shoulders to bear suchburdens as fall to his lot, he lingered long on the way, for hispresentiments were gloomy; and at the great door of the Palazzo heeven stopped to inquire of the porter whether the contessina had beenseen to go out yet, half hoping that she would thus save him themortification of an interview. But it turned out otherwise: thecontessina was at home, and De Pretis was expected, as usual, to givethe lesson. Slowly he climbed the great staircase, and was admitted. 

"Good-day, Sor Maestro, " said the liveried footman, who knew him well. "The Signor Conte desires to speak with you to-day before you go tothe signorina. "

The maestro's heart sank, and he gripped hard the roll of music in hishand as he followed the servant to the count's cabinet. There was tobe a scene of explanation after all. 

The count was seated in his great arm-chair, in a cloud of tobaccosmoke, reading a Prussian military journal. His stick leaned againstthe table by his side, in painful contrast with the glittering cavalrysabres crossed upon the dark red wall opposite. The tall windowslooked out on the piazza, and it was raining, or just beginning torain. The great inkstand on the table was made to represent ahowitzer, and the count looked as though he were ready to fire itpoint blank at any intruder. There was an air of disciplined luxury inthe room that spoke of a rich old soldier who fed his fancy withtit-bits from a stirring past. De Pretis felt very uncomfortable, butthe nobleman rose to greet him, as he rose to greet everything abovethe rank of a servant, making himself steady with his stick. When DePretis was seated he sat down also. The rain pattered against thewindow. 

"Signor De Pretis, " began the count, in tones as hard as chilledsteel, "you are an honourable man. " There was something interrogativein his voice. 

"I hope so, " answered the maestro modestly; "like other Christians, Ihave a soul--"

"You will your soul take care of in your leisure moments, " interruptedthe count. "At present you have no leisure. "

"As you command, Signor Conte. "

"I was yesterday evening at the theatre. The professor you recommendedfor my daughter is with the new tenor one person. " De Pretis spreadout his hands and bowed, as if to deprecate any share in thetransaction. The count continued, "You are of the profession, SignorDe Pretis. Evidently, you of this were aware. "

"It is true, " assented Ercole, not knowing what to say. 

"Of course it is true. I am therefore to hear your explanationdisposed. " His grey eyes fastened sternly on the maestro. But thelatter was prepared, for he had long foreseen that the count would oneday be disposed to hear an explanation, as he expressed it. 

"It is quite true, " repeated De Pretis. "The young man was very poor, and desired to support himself while he was studying music. He waswell fitted to teach our literature, and I recommended him. I hopethat, in consideration of his poverty, and because he turned out avery good teacher, you will forgive me, Signor Conte. "

"This talented singer I greatly applaud, " answered the count stiffly. "As a with-the-capacity-and-learning-requisite-for-teaching-endowedyoung man deserves he also some commendation. Also will I rememberhis laudable-and-not-lacking independence character. Nevertheless, unfitting would it be should I pay the first tenor of the opera fivefrancs an hour to teach my daughter Italian literature. " De Pretisbreathed more freely. 

"Then you will forgive me, Signor Conte, for endeavouring to promotethe efforts of this worthy young man in supporting himself?"

"Signor De Pretis, " said the count, with a certain quaint geniality, "I have my precautions observed. I examined Signor Cardegna in Italianliterature in my own person, and him proficient found. Had I found himto be ignorant, and had I his talents as an operatic singer laterdiscovered, I would you out of that window have projected. " De Pretiswas alarmed, for the old count looked as though he would have carriedout the threat. "As it is, " he concluded, "you are an honourable man, and I wish you good-morning. Lady Hedwig awaits you as usual. " He rosecourteously, leaning on his stick, and De Pretis bowed himself out. 

He expected that the contessina would immediately begin talking ofNino, but he was mistaken; she never once referred to the opera or thesinger, and except that she looked pale and transparent, and sang witha trifle less interest in her music than usual, there was nothingnoticeable in her manner. Indeed, she had every reason to be silent. 

Early that morning Nino received by messenger a pretty little note, written in execrable Italian, begging him to come and breakfast withthe baroness at twelve, as she much desired to speak with him afterhis stupendous triumph of the previous night. 

Nino is a very good boy, but he is mortal, and after the excitement ofthe evening he thought nothing could be pleasanter than to spend a fewhours in that scented boudoir, among the palms and the beautifulobjects and the perfumes, talking with a woman who professed herselfready to help him in his love affair. We have no perfumes or cushionsor pretty things at number twenty-seven Santa Catarina dei Funari, though everything is very bright and neat and most proper, and the catis kept in the kitchen, for the most part. So it is no wonder that heshould have preferred to spend the morning with the baroness. 

She was half lying, half sitting, in a deep arm-chair, when Ninoentered; and she was reading a book. When she saw him she dropped thevolume on her knee, and looked up at him from under her lids, withoutspeaking. She must have been a bewitching figure. Nino advanced towardher, bowing low, so that his dark curling hair shaded his face. 

"Good-day, signora, " said he softly, as though fearing to hurt thequiet air. "I trust I do not interrupt you?"

"You never interrupt me, Nino, " she said, "except--except when you goaway. "

"You are very good, signora. "

"For heaven's sake, no pretty speeches, " said she, with a littlelaugh. 

"It seems to me, " said Nino, seating himself, "that it was you whomade the pretty speech, and I who thanked you for it. " There was apause. 

"How do you feel!" asked the baroness at last, turning her head tohim. 

"Grazie--I am well, " he answered, smiling. 

"Oh, I do not mean that, --you are always well. But how do you enjoyyour first triumph?"

"I think, " said Nino, "that a real artist ought to have the capacityto enjoy a success at the moment, and the good sense to blame hisvanity for enjoying it after it is passed. "

"How old are you, Nino?"

"Did I never tell you?" he asked innocently. "I shall be twenty-onesoon. "

"You talk as though you were forty, at least. "

"Heaven save us!" quoth Nino. 

"But really, are you not immensely flattered at the reception youhad?"

"Yes. "

"You did not look at all interested in the public at the time, " saidshe, "and that Roman nose of yours very nearly turned up in disdain ofthe applause, I thought. I wonder what you were thinking of all thewhile. "

"Can you wonder, baronessa?" She knew what he meant, and there was alittle look of annoyance in her face when she answered. 

"Ah, well, of course not, since _she_ was there. " Her ladyship rose, and taking a stick of Eastern pastil from a majolica dish in a cornermade Nino light it from a wax taper. 

"I want the smell of the sandal-wood this morning, " said she; "I havea headache. " She was enchanting to look at as she bent hersoftly-shaded face over the flame to watch the burning perfume. Shelooked like a beautiful lithe sorceress making a love spell, --perhapsfor her own use. Nino turned from her. He did not like to allow theone image he loved to be even for a moment disturbed by the one heloved not, however beautiful. She moved away, leaving the pastil onthe dish. Suddenly she paused, and turned back to look at him. 

"Why did you come to-day?" she asked. 

"Because you desired it, " answered Nino, in some astonishment. 

"You need not have come, " she said, bending down to lean on the backof a silken chair. She folded her hands and looked at him as he stoodnot three paces away. "Do you not know what has happened?" she asked, with a smile that was a little sad. 

"I do not understand, " said Nino simply. He was facing the entrance tothe room, and saw the curtains parted by the servant. The baroness hadher back to the door, and did not hear. 

"Do you not know, " she continued, "that you are free now? Yourappearance in public has put an end to it all. You are not tied to meany longer, --unless you wish it. "

As she spoke these words Nino turned white, for under the heavycurtain, lifted to admit her, stood Hedwig von Lira, like a statue, transfixed and immovable from what she had heard. The baroness noticedNino's look, and springing back to her height from the chair on whichshe had been leaning, faced the door. 

"My dearest Hedwig!" she cried, with a magnificent readiness. "I am sovery glad you have come. I did not expect you in the least. Do takeoff your hat, and stay to breakfast. Ah, forgive me; this is ProfessorCardegna. But you know him? Yes; now that I think, we all went to thePantheon together. " Nino bowed low, and Hedwig bent her head. 

"Yes, " said the young girl coldly. "Professor Cardegna gives melessons. "

"Why, of course; how _bête_ I am! I was just telling him that, sincehe has been successful, and is enrolled among the great artists, it isa pity he is no longer tied to giving Italian lessons, --tied to cominghere three times a week to teach me literature. " Hedwig smiled astrange icy smile, and sat down by the window. Nino was still utterlyastonished, but he would not allow the baroness's quibble to goentirely uncontradicted. 

"In truth, " he said, "the Signora Baronessa's lessons consistedchiefly--"

"In teaching me pronunciation, " interrupted the baroness, trying toremove Hedwig's veil and hat, somewhat against the girl's inclination. "Yes, you see how it is. I know a little of singing, but I cannotpronounce--not in the least. Ah, these Italian vowels will be thedeath of me! But if there is anyone who can teach a poor dilettante topronounce them, " she added, laying the hat away on a chair, andpushing a footstool to Hedwig's feet, "that someone is SignorCardegna. "

By this time Nino had recognised the propriety of temporising; that isto say, of letting the baroness's fib pass for what it was worth, lestthe discussion of the subject should further offend Hedwig, whose eyeswandered irresolutely toward him, as though she would say something ifhe addressed her. 

"I hope, signorina, " he said, "that it is not quite as the baronesssays. I trust our lessons are not at an end?" He knew very well thatthey were. 

"I think, Signor Cardegna, " said Hedwig, with more courage than wouldhave been expected from such a mere child, --she is twenty, butNorthern people are not grown up till they are thirty, at least, --"Ithink it would have been more obliging if, when I asked you so muchabout your cousin, you had acknowledged that you had no cousin, andthat the singer was none other than yourself. " She blushed, perhaps, but the curtain of the window hid it. 

"Alas, signorina, " answered Nino, still standing before her, "such aconfession would have deprived me of the pleasure--of the honour ofgiving you lessons. "

"And pray, Signor Cardegna, " put in the baroness, "what are a fewpaltry lessons compared with the pleasure you ought to haveexperienced in satisfying the Contessina di Lira's curiosity. Really, you have little courtesy. "

Nino shrank into himself, as though he were hurt, and he gave thebaroness a look which said worlds. She smiled at him, in joy of hersmall triumph, for Hedwig was looking at the floor again and could notsee. But the young girl had strength in her, for all her cold looksand white cheek. 

"You can atone, Signor Cardegna, " she said. Nino's face brightened. 

"How, signorina?" he asked. 

"By singing to us now, " said Hedwig. The baroness looked grave, forshe well knew what a power Nino wielded with his music. 

"Do not ask him, " she protested. "He must be tired, --tired to death, with all he went through last night. "

"Tired?" ejaculated Nino, with some surprise. "I tired? I was nevertired in my life of singing. I will sing as long as you will listen. "He went to the piano. As he turned, the baroness laid her hand onHedwig's affectionately, as though sympathising with something shesupposed to be passing in the girl's mind. But Hedwig was passive, unless a little shudder at the first touch of the baroness's fingersmight pass for a manifestation of feeling. Hedwig had hitherto likedthe baroness, finding in her a woman of a certain artistic sense, combined with a certain originality. The girl was an absolute contrastto the woman, and admired in her the qualities she thought lacking inherself, though she possessed too much self-respect to attempt toacquire them by imitation. Hedwig sat like a Scandinavian fairyprincess on the summit of a glass hill; her friend roamed through lifelike a beautiful soft-footed wild animal, rejoicing in the sense ofbeing, and sometimes indulging in a little playful destruction by theway. The girl had heard a voice in the dark singing, and ever sincethen she had dreamed of the singer; but it never entered her mind toconfide to the baroness her strange fancies. An undisciplinedimagination, securely shielded from all outward disturbing causes, will do much with a voice in the dark, --a great deal more than such awoman as the baroness might imagine. 

I do not know enough about these blue-eyed German girls to say whetheror not Hedwig had ever before thought of her unknown singer as anunknown lover. But the emotions of the previous night had shaken hernerves a little, and had she been older than she was she would haveknown that she loved her singer, in a distant and maidenly fashion, assoon as she heard the baroness speak of him as having been herproperty. And now she was angry with herself, and ashamed of feelingany interest in a man who was evidently tied to another woman by someintrigue she could not comprehend. Her coming to visit the baronesshad been as unpremeditated as it was unexpected that morning, and shebitterly repented it; but being of good blood and heart, she acted asboldly as she could, and showed no little tact in making Nino sing, and thus cutting short a painful conversation. Only when the baronesstried to caress her and stroke her hand she shrank away, and the bloodmantled up to her cheeks. Add to all this the womanly indignation shefelt at having been so long deceived by Nino, and you will see thatshe was in a very vacillating frame of mind. 

The baroness was a subtle woman, reckless and diplomatic by turns, andshe was not blind to the sudden repulse she met with from Hedwig, unspoken though it was. But she merely withdrew her hand, and satthinking over the situation. What she thought, no one knows; or atleast, we can only guess it from what she did afterwards. As for me, Ihave never blamed her at all, for she is the kind of woman I shouldhave loved. In the meantime Nino carolled out one love song afteranother. He saw, however, that the situation was untenable, and aftera while he rose to go. Strange to say, although the baroness had askedNino to breakfast and the hour was now at hand, she made no effort toretain him. But she gave him her hand, and said many flattering andpleasing things, which, however, neither flattered nor pleased him. Asfor Hedwig, she bent her head a little, but said nothing, as he bowedbefore her. Nino therefore went home with a heavy heart, longing toexplain to Hedwig why he had been tied to the baroness, --that it wasthe price of her silence and of the privilege he had enjoyed of givinglessons to the contessina; but knowing also that all explanation wasout of the question for the present. When he was gone Hedwig and thebaroness were left together. 

"It must have been a great surprise to you, my dear, " said the elderlady kindly. 

"What?"

"That your little professor should turn out a great artist indisguise. It was a surprise to me, too, --ah, another illusiondestroyed. Dear child! You have still so many illusions, --beautiful, pure illusions. Dieu! how I envy you!" They generally talked Frenchtogether, though the baroness knows German. Hedwig laughed bravely. 

"I was certainly astonished, " she said. "Poor man! I suppose he did itto support himself. He never told me he gave you lessons too. " Thebaroness smiled, but it was from genuine satisfaction this time. 

"I wonder at that, since he knew we were intimate, or, at least, thatwe were acquainted. Of course I would not speak of it last night, because I saw your father was angry. "

"Yes, he was angry. I suppose it was natural, " said Hedwig. 

"Perfectly natural. And you, my dear, were you not angry too, --just alittle?"

"I? No. Why should I be angry? He was a very good teacher, for heknows whole volumes by heart; and he understands them too. "

Soon they talked of other things, and the baroness was veryaffectionate. But though Hedwig saw that her friend was kind and mostfriendly, she could not forget the words that were in the air when shechanced to enter, nor could she quite accept the plausible explanationof them which the baroness had so readily invented. For jealousy isthe forerunner of love, and sometimes its awakener. She felt a rivaland an enemy, and all the hereditary combativeness of her Northernblood was roused. 

Nino, who was in no small perplexity, reflected. He was not old enoughor observant enough to have seen the breach that was about to becreated between the baroness and Hedwig. His only thought was to clearhimself in Hedwig's eyes from the imputation of having been tied tothe dark woman in any way save for his love's sake. He at once beganto hate the baroness with all the ferocity of which his heart wascapable, and with all the calm his bold square face outwardlyexpressed. But he was forced to take some action at once, and he couldthink of nothing better to do than to consult De Pretis. 

To the maestro he poured out his woes and his plans. He exhibited tohim his position toward the baroness and toward Hedwig in the clearestlight. He conjured him to go to Hedwig and explain that the baronesshad threatened to unmask him, and thus deprive him of his means ofsupport, --he dared not put it otherwise, --unless he consented to singfor her and come to her as often as she pleased. To explain, topropitiate, to smooth, --in a word, to reinstate Nino in her goodopinion. 

"Death of a dog!" exclaimed De Pretis; "you do not ask much! After youhave allowed your lady-love, your inamorata, to catch you saying youare bound body and soul to another woman, --and such a woman! yesaints, what a beauty!--you ask me to go and set matters right! Whatthe diavolo did you want to go and poke your nose into such amousetrap for? Via! I am a fool to have helped you at all. "

"Very likely, " said Nino calmly. "But meanwhile there are two of us, and perhaps I am the greater. You will do what I ask, maestro; is itnot true? And it was not I who said it; it was the baroness. "

"The baroness--yes--and may the maledictions of the inferno overtakeher, " said De Pretis, casting up his eyes and feeling in his coat-tailpockets for his snuff-box. Once, when Nino was younger, he filledErcole's snuff-box with soot and pepper, so that the maestro had ablack nose and sneezed all day. 

What could Ercole do? It was true that he had hitherto helped Nino. Was he not bound to continue that assistance? I suppose so; but if thewhole affair had ended then, and this story with it, I would not havecared a button. Do you suppose it amuses me to tell you this tale? Orthat if it were not for Nino's good name I would ever have turnedmyself into a common storyteller? Bah! you do not know me. A page ofquaternions gives me more pleasure than all this rubbish put together, though I am not averse to a little gossip now and then of an evening, if people will listen to my details and fancies. But those are justthe things people will not listen to. Everybody wants sensationnowadays. What is a sensation compared with a thought? What is theconvulsive gesticulation of a dead frog's leg compared with theintellect of the man who invented the galvanic battery, and thus gavefictitious sensation to all the countless generations of dead frogs'legs that have since been the objects of experiment? Or if you comedown to so poor a thing as mere feeling, what are your feelings inreading about Nino's deeds compared with what he felt in doing them? Iam not taking all this trouble to please you, but only for Nino'ssake, who is my dear boy. You are of no more interest or importance tome than if you were so many dead frogs; and if I galvanise yoursensations, as you call them, into an activity sufficient to make youcry or laugh, that is my own affair. You need not say "thank you" tome. I do not want it. Ercole will thank you, and perhaps Nino willthank me, but that is different. 

I will not tell you about the interview that Ercole had with Hedwig, nor how skilfully he rolled up his eyes and looked pathetic when hespoke of Nino's poverty and of the fine part he had played in thewhole business. Hedwig is a woman, and the principal satisfaction shegathered from Ercole's explanation was the knowledge that her friendthe baroness had lied to her in explaining those strange words she hadoverheard. She knew it, of course, by instinct; but it was a greatrelief to be told the fact by someone else, as it always is, even whenone is not a woman. 

CHAPTER VIII

Several days passed after the _début_ without giving Nino anopportunity of speaking to Hedwig. He probably saw her, for he mingledin the crowd of dandies in the Piazza Colonna of an afternoon, hopingshe would pass in her carriage and give him a look. Perhaps she did;he said nothing about it, but looked calm when he was silent andsavage when he spoke, after the manner of passionate people. His faceaged and grew stern in those few days, so that he seemed to change ona sudden from boy to man. But he went about his business, and sang atthe theatre when he was obliged to; gathering courage to do his bestand to display his powers from the constant success he had. The paperswere full of his praises, saying that he was absolutely without rivalfrom the very first night he sang, matchless and supreme from themoment he first opened his mouth, and all that kind of nonsense. Idare say he is now, but he could not have been really the greatestsinger living, so soon. However, he used to bring me the newspapersthat had notices of him, though he never appeared to care much forthem, nor did he ever keep them himself. He said he hankered for anideal which he would never attain, and I told him that if he was neverto attain it he had better abandon the pursuit of it at once. But herepresented to me that the ideal was confined to his imagination, whereas the reality had a great financial importance, since he dailyreceived offers from foreign managers to sing for them, at largeadvantage to himself, and was hesitating only in order to choose themost convenient. This seemed sensible, and I was silent. Soonafterwards he presented me with a box of cigars and a very prettyamber mouthpiece. The cigars were real Havanas, such as I had notsmoked for years, and must have cost a great deal. 

"You may not be aware, Sor Cornelio, " he said one evening, as he mixedthe oil and vinegar with the salad, at supper, "that I am now a richman, or soon shall be. An agent from the London opera has offered metwenty thousand francs for the season in London this spring. "

"Twenty thousand francs!" I cried, in amazement. "You must bedreaming, Nino. That is just about seven times what I earn in a yearwith my professorship and my writing. "

"No dreams, caro mio. I have the offer in my pocket. " He apparentlycared no more about it than if he had twenty thousand roastedchestnuts in his pocket. 

"When do you leave us?" I asked, when I was somewhat recovered. 

"I am not sure that I will go, " he answered, sprinkling some pepper onthe lettuce. 

"Not sure! Body of Diana, what a fool you are!"

"Perhaps, " said he, and he passed me the dish. Just then Mariucciacame in with a bottle of wine, and we said no more about it, forMariuccia is indiscreet. 

Nino thought nothing about his riches, because he was racking hisbrains for some good expedient whereby he might see the contessina andspeak with her. He had ascertained from De Pretis that the count wasnot so angry as he had expected, and that Hedwig was quite satisfiedwith the explanations of the maestro. The day after the foregoingconversation he wrote a note to her, wherein he said that if theContessina de Lira would deign to be awake at midnight that eveningshe would have a serenade from a voice she was said to admire. He hadMariuccia carry the letter to the Palazzo Cormandola. 

At half-past eleven, at least two hours after supper, Nino wrappedhimself in my old cloak and took the guitar under his arm. Rome is nota very safe place for midnight pranks, and so I made him take a goodknife in his waistbelt; for he had confided to me where he was going. I tried to dissuade him from the plan, saying he might catch cold; buthe laughed at me. 

A serenade is an everyday affair, and in the street one voice soundsabout as well as another. He reached the palace, and his heart sankwhen he saw Hedwig's window dark and gloomy. He did not know that shewas seated behind it in a deep chair, wrapped in white things, andlistening for him against the beatings of her heart. The large moonseemed to be spiked on the sharp spire of the church that is near herhouse, and the black shadows cut the white light as clean as with aknife. Nino had tuned his guitar in the other street, and stood ready, waiting for the clocks to strike. Presently they clanged out wildly, as though they had been waked from their midnight sleep, and wereangry; one clock answering the other, and one convent bell followinganother in the call to prayers. For two full minutes the whole air wascrazy with ringing, and then it was all still. Nino struck a singlechord. Hedwig almost thought he might hear her heart beating all theway down the street. 

"Ah, del mio dolce ardor bramato ogetto, " he sang, --an old air in oneof Gluck's operas that our Italian musicians say was composed byAlessandro Stradella, the poor murdered singer. It must be a very goodair, for it pleases me; and I am not easily pleased with music of anykind. As for Hedwig, she pressed her ear to the glass of the windowthat she might not lose any note. But she would not open nor give anysign. Nino was not so easily discouraged, for he remembered that oncebefore she had opened her window for a few bars he had begun to sing. He played a few chords, and breathed out the "Salve, dimora casta epura, " from _Faust_, high and soft and clear. There is a point in thatsong, near to the end, where the words say, "Reveal to me the maiden, "and where the music goes away to the highest note that anyone canpossibly sing. It always appears quite easy for Nino, and he does notsqueak like a dying pig as all the other tenors do on that note. Hewas looking up as he sang it, wondering whether it would have anyeffect. Apparently Hedwig lost her head completely, for she gentlyopened the casement and looked out at the moonlight opposite, over thecarved stone mullions of her window. The song ended, he hesitatedwhether to go or to sing again. She was evidently looking towards him;but he was in the light, for the moon had risen higher, and she, onthe other side of the street, was in the dark. 

"Signorina!" he called softly. No answer. "Signorina!" he said again, coming across the empty street and standing under the window, whichmight have been thirty feet from the ground. 

"Hush!" came a whisper from above. 

"I thank you with all my soul for listening to me, " he said, in a lowvoice. "I am innocent of that of which you suspect me. I love you, ah, I love you!" But at this she left the window very quickly. She didnot close it, however, and Nino stood long, straining his eyes for aglimpse of the white face that had been there. He sighed, and, striking a chord, sang out boldly the old air from the _Trovatore_, "Ah, che la morte ognora è tarda nel venir. " Every blind fiddler inthe streets plays it, though he would be sufficiently scared if deathcame any the quicker for his fiddling. But old and worn as it is ithas a strain of passion in it, and Nino threw more fire and voice intothe ring of it than ever did famous old Boccardè, when he sang it atthe first performance of the opera, thirty and odd years ago. As heplayed the chords after the first strophe, the voice from abovewhispered again:

"Hush! for Heaven's sake!" Just that, and something fell at his feet, with a soft little padded sound on the pavement. He stooped to pick itup, and found a single rose; and at that instant the window closedsharply. Therefore he kissed the rose and hid it, and presently hestrode down the street, finishing his song as he went, but onlyhumming it, for the joy had taken his voice away. I heard him lethimself in and go to bed, and he told me about it in the morning. Thatis how I know. 

Since the day after the _début_ Nino had not seen the baroness. He didnot speak of her, and I am sure he wished she were at the very bottomof the Tiber. But on the morning after the serenade he received a notefrom her, which was so full of protestations of friendship and sodelicately couched that he looked grave, and reflected that it was hisduty to be courteous, and to answer such a call as that. She beggedhim earnestly to come at one o'clock; she was suffering from headache, she said, and was very weak. Had Nino loved Hedwig a whit the less hewould not have gone. But he felt himself strong enough to faceanything and everything, and therefore he determined to go. 

He found her, indeed, with the manner of a person who is ill, but notwith the appearance. She was lying on a huge couch, pushed to thefireside, and there were furs about her. A striped scarf of richEastern silk was round her throat, and she held in her hand a newnovel, of which she carelessly cut the pages with a broad-haftedPersian knife. But there was colour in her dark cheek, and a sort ofangry fire in her eyes. Nino thought the clean steel in her handlooked as though it might be used for something besides cuttingleaves, if the fancy took her. 

"So at last you have honoured me with a visit, signore, " she said, notdesisting from her occupation. Nino came to her, and she put out herhand. He touched it, but could not bear to hold it, for it burned him. 

"You used to honour my hand differently from that, " she halfwhispered. Nino sat himself down a little way from her, blushingslightly. It was not at what she had said, but at the thought that heshould ever have kissed her fingers. 

"Signora, " he replied, "there are customs, chivalrous and gentle inthemselves, and worthy for all men to practise. But from the moment acustom begins to mean what it should not, it ought to be abandoned. You will forgive me if I no longer kiss your hand. "

"How cold you are!--how formal! What should it mean?"

"It is better to say too little than too much, " he answered. 

"Bah!" she cried, with a bitter little laugh. "Words are silver, butsilence--is very often nothing but silver-plated brass. Put a littlemore wood on the fire; you make me cold. " Nino obeyed. 

"How literal you are!" said the baroness petulantly. "There is fireenough on the hearth. "

"Apparently, signora, you are pleased to be enigmatical, " said Nino. 

"I will be pleased to be anything I please, " she answered, and lookedat him rather fiercely. "I wanted you to drive away my headache, andyou only make it worse. "

"I am sorry, signora. I will leave you at once. Permit me to wish youa very good-morning. " He took his hat and went towards the door. Before he reached the heavy curtain, she was at his side with a rushlike a falcon on the wing, her eyes burning darkly between anger andlove. 

"Nino!" She laid hold of his arm, and looked into his face. 

"Signora, " he protested coldly, and drew back. 

"You will not leave me so?"

"As you wish, signora. I desire to oblige you. "

"Oh, how cold you are!" she cried, leaving his arm, and sinking into achair by the door, while he stood with his hand on the curtain. Shehid her eyes. "Nino, Nino! You will break my heart!" she sobbed; and atear, perhaps more of anger than of sorrow, burst through her fingers, and coursed down her cheek. 

Few men can bear to see a woman shed tears. Nino's nature rose up inhis throat, and bade him console her. But between him and her was afair, bright image that forbade him to move hand or foot. 

"Signora, " he said, with all the calm he could command, "if I wereconscious of having by word or deed of mine given you cause to speakthus, I would humbly implore your forgiveness. But my heart does notaccuse me. I beg you to allow me to take leave of you. I will goaway, and you shall have no further cause to think of me. " He movedagain, and lifted the curtain. But she was like a panther, so quickand beautiful. Ah, how I could have loved that woman! She held him, and would not let him go, her smooth fingers fastening round hiswrists like springs. 

"Please to let me go, " he said, between his teeth, with rising anger. 

"No! I will not let you!" she cried fiercely, tightening her grasp onhim. Then the angry fire in her tearful eyes seemed suddenly to meltinto a soft flame, and the colour came faster to her cheeks. "Ah, howcan you let me so disgrace myself! how can you see me fallen so low asto use the strength of my hands, and yet have no pity? Nino, Nino, donot kill me!"

"Indeed, it would be the better for you if I should, " he answeredbitterly, but without attempting to free his wrists from the strong, soft grip. 

"But you will, " she murmured, passionately. "You are killing me byleaving me. Can you not see it?" Her voice melted away in the tearfulcadence. But Nino stood gazing at her as stonily as though he were theSphinx. How could he have the heart? I cannot tell. Long she lookedinto his eyes, silently; but she might as well have tried to animate apiece of iron, so stern and hard he was. Suddenly, with a strongconvulsive movement, she flung his hands from her. 

"Go!" she cried hoarsely. "Go to that wax doll you love, and seewhether she will love you, or care whether you leave her or not! Go, go, go! Go to her!" She had sprung far back from him, and now pointedto the door, drawn to her full height and blazing in her wrath. 

"I would advise you, madam, to speak with proper respect of any ladywith whom you choose to couple my name. " His lips opened and shutmechanically, and he trembled from head to foot. 

"Respect!" She laughed wildly. "Respect for a mere child whom youhappen to fancy! Respect, indeed, for anything you choose to do!I--I--respect Hedwig von Lira? Ha! ha!" and she rested her hand on thetable behind her, as she laughed. 

"Be silent, madam, " said Nino, and he moved a step nearer, and stoodwith folded arms. 

"Ah! You would silence me now, would you? You would rather not hear mespeak of your midnight serenades, and your sweet letters dropped fromthe window of her room at your feet?" But her rage overturned itself, and with a strange cry she fell into a deep chair, and wept bitterly, burying her face in her two hands. "Miserable woman that I am!" shesobbed, and her whole lithe body was convulsed. 

"You are indeed, " said Nino, and he turned once more to go. But as heturned, the servant threw back the curtain. 

"The Signor Conte di Lira, " he announced, in distinct tones. For amoment there was a dead silence, during which, in spite of hisastonishment at the sudden appearance of the count, Nino had time toreflect that the baroness had caused him to be watched during theprevious night. It might well be, and the mistake she made insupposing the thing Hedwig had dropped to be a letter told him thather spy had not ventured very near. 

The tall count came forward under the raised curtains, limping andhelping himself with his stick. His face was as gray and wooden asever, but his moustaches had an irritated, crimped look that Nino didnot like. The count barely nodded to the young man as he stood asideto let the old gentleman pass; his eyes turned mechanically to wherethe baroness sat. She was a woman who had no need to simulate passionin any shape, and it must have cost her a terrible effort to controlthe paroxysm of anger and shame and grief that had overcome her. Therewas something unnatural and terrifying in her sudden calm, as sheforced herself to rise and greet her visitor. 

"I fear I come out of season, " he said, apologetically, as he bentover her hand. 

"On the contrary, " she answered; "but forgive me if I speak one wordto Professor Cardegna. " She went to where Nino was standing. 

"Go into that room, " she said, in a very low voice, glancing towards acurtained door opposite the windows, "and wait till he goes. You maylisten if you choose. " She spoke authoritatively. 

"I will not, " answered Nino, in a determined whisper. 

"You will not?" Her eyes flashed again. He shook his head. 

"Count von Lira, " she said aloud, turning to him, "do you know thisyoung man?" She spoke in Italian, and Von Lira answered in the samelanguage; but as what he said was not exactly humorous, I will spareyou the strange construction of his sentences. 

"Perfectly, " he answered. "It is precisely concerning this young manthat I desire to speak with you. " The count remained standing becausethe baroness had not told him to be seated. 

"That is fortunate, " replied the baroness, "for I wish to inform youthat he is a villain, a wretch, a miserable fellow!" Her anger wasrising again, but she struggled to control it. When Nino realised whatshe said he came forward and stood near the count, facing thebaroness, his arms folded on his breast, as though to challengeaccusation. The count raised his eyebrows. 

"I am aware that he concealed his real profession so long as he gavemy daughter lessons. That, however, has been satisfactorily explained, though I regret it. Pray inform me why you designate him as avillain. " Nino felt a thrill of sympathy for this man whom he had solong deceived. 

"This man, sir, " said she, in measured tones, "this low-born singer, who has palmed himself off on us as a respectable instructor inlanguage, has the audacity to love your daughter. For the sake ofpressing his odious suit he has wormed himself into your house as intomine; he has sung beneath your daughter's window, and she has droppedletters to him, --love-letters, do you understand? And now, "--her voicerose more shrill and uncontrollable at every word, as she saw Lira'sface turn white, and her anger gave desperate utterance to thelie, --"and now he has the effrontery to come to me--to me--to me ofall women--and to confess his abominable passion for that pure angel, imploring me to assist him in bringing destruction upon her and you. Oh, it is execrable, it is vile, it is hellish!" She pressed her handsto her temples as she stood, and glared at the two men. The count wasa strong man, easily petulant, but hard to move to real anger. Thoughhis face was white and his right hand clutched his crutch-stick, hestill kept the mastery of himself. 

"Is what you tell me true, madam?" he asked in a strange voice. 

"Before God, it is true!" she cried, desperately. 

The old man looked at her for one moment, and then, as though he hadbeen twenty years younger, he made at Nino, brandishing his stick tostrike. But Nino is strong and young, and he is almost a Roman. Heforesaw the count's action, and his right hand stole to the table andgrasped the clean, murderous knife; the baroness had used it soinnocently to cut the leaves of her book half an hour before. With onewrench he had disarmed the elder man, forced him back upon a lounge, and set the razor edge of his weapon against the count's throat. 

"If you speak one word, or try to strike me, I will cut off yourhead, " he said quietly, bringing his cold, marble face close down tothe old man's eyes. There was something so deathly in his voice, inspite of its quiet sound, that the count thought his hour was come, brave man as he was. The baroness tottered back against the oppositewall, and stood staring at the two, dishevelled and horrified. 

"This woman, " said Nino, still holding the cold thing against theflesh, "lies in part, and in part tells the truth I love yourdaughter, it is true. " The poor old man quivered beneath Nino'sweight, and his eyes rolled wildly, searching for some means ofescape. But it was of no use. "I love her, and have sung beneath herwindow; but I never had a written word from her in my life, and Ineither told this woman of my love nor asked her assistance. Sheguessed it at the first; she guessed the reason of my disguise, andshe herself offered to help me. You may speak now. Ask her. " Ninorelaxed his hold, and stood off, still grasping the knife. The oldcount breathed, shook himself and passed his handkerchief over hisface before he spoke. The baroness stood as though she were petrified. 

"Thunder weather, you are a devilish young man!" said Von Lira, stillpanting. Then he suddenly recovered his dignity. "You have caused meto assault this young man by what you told me, " he said, struggling tohis feet. "He defended himself, and might have killed me, had hechosen. Be good enough to tell me whether he has spoken the truth oryou. "

"He has spoken--the truth, " answered the baroness, staring vacantlyabout her. Her fright had taken from her even the faculty of lying. Her voice was low, but she articulated the words distinctly. Then, suddenly, she threw up her hands, with a short quick scream, and fellforward, senseless, on the floor. Nino looked at the count, anddropped his knife on a table. The count looked at Nino. 

"Sir, " said the old gentleman, "I forgive you for resisting myassault. I do not forgive you for presuming to love my daughter, and Iwill find means to remind you of the scandal you have brought on myhouse. " He drew himself up to his full height. Nino handed him hiscrutch-stick civilly. 

"Signor Conte, " he said simply, but with all his natural courtesy, "Iam sorry for this affair, to which you forced me, --or rather theSignora Baronessa forced us both. I have acted foolishly, perhaps, butI am in love. And permit me to assure you, sir, that I will yet marrythe Signorina di Lira, if she consents to marry me. "

"By the name of Heaven, " swore the old count, "if she wants to marry asinger, she shall. " He limped to the door in sullen anger, and wentout. Nino turned to the prostrate figure of the poor baroness. Thecontinued strain on her nerves had broken her down, and she lay on thefloor in a dead faint. Nino put a cushion from the lounge under herhead, and rang the bell. The servant appeared instantly. 

"Bring water quickly!" he cried. "The signora has fainted. " He stoodlooking at the senseless figure of the woman, as she lay across therich Persian rugs that covered the floor. 

"Why did you not bring salts, cologne, her maid--run, I tell you!" hesaid to the man, who brought the glass of water on a gilded tray. Hehad forgotten that the fellow could not be expected to have any sense. When her people came at last, he had sprinkled her face, and she hadunconsciously swallowed enough of the water to have some effect inreviving her. She began to open her eyes, and her fingers movednervously. Nino found his hat, and, casting one glance around the roomthat had just witnessed such strange doings, passed through the doorand went out. The baroness was left with her servants. Poor woman! Shedid very wrong, perhaps, but anybody would have loved her--exceptNino. She must have been terribly shaken, one would have thought, andshe ought to have gone to lie down, and should have sent for thedoctor to bleed her. But she did nothing of the kind. 

She came to see me. I was alone in the house, late in the afternoon, when the sun was just gilding the tops of the houses. I heard thedoor-bell ring, and I went to answer it myself. There stood thebeautiful baroness, alone, with all her dark soft things around her, as pale as death, and her eyes swollen sadly with weeping. Nino hadcome home and told me something about the scene in the morning, and Ican tell you I gave him a piece of my mind about his follies. 

"Does Professor Cornelio Grandi live here?" she asked, in a low, sadvoice. 

"I am he, signora, " I answered. "Will you please to come in?" And soshe came into our little sitting-room, and sat over there in the oldgreen arm-chair. I shall never forget it as long as I live. 

I cannot tell you all she said in that brief half-hour, for it painsme to think of it. She spoke as though I were her confessor, so humblyand quietly, --as though it had all happened ten years ago. There isno stubbornness in those tiger women when once they break down. 

She said she was going away; that she had done my boy a great wrong, and wished to make such reparation as she could, by telling me, atleast, the truth. She did not scruple to say that she had loved him, nor that she had done everything in her power to keep him; though hehad never so much as looked at her, she added, pathetically. Shewished to have me know exactly how it happened, no matter what I mightthink of her. 

"You are a nobleman, count, " she said to me at last, "and I can trustyou as one of my own people, I am sure. Yes, I know: you have beenunfortunate, and are now a professor. But that does not change theblood. I can trust you. You need not tell him I came, unless you wishit. I shall never see him again. I am glad to have been here, to seewhere he lives. " She rose, and moved to go. I confess that the tearswere in my eyes. There was a pile of music on the old piano. There wasa loose leaf on the top, with his name written on it. She took it inher hand, and looked inquiringly at me out of her sad eyes. I knew shewanted to take it, and I nodded. 

"I shall never see him again, you know. " Her voice was gentle andweak, and she hastened to the door; so that almost before I knew itshe was gone. The sun had left the red-tiled roofs opposite, and thegoldfinch was silent in his cage. So I sat down in the chair where shehad rested, and folded my hands, and thought, as I am always thinkingever since, how I could have loved such a woman as that; sopassionate, so beautiful, so piteously sorry for what she had donethat was wrong. Ah me! for the years that are gone away so cruelly, for the days so desperately dead! Give me but one of those goldendays, and I would make the pomp of emperors ridiculous. 

A greater man than I said that, --a man over the seas, with a greatsoul, who wrote in a foreign tongue, but spoke a language germane toall human speech. But even he cannot bring back one of those deardays. I would give much to have that one day back, when she came andtold me all her woes. But that is impossible. 

When they came to wake her in the morning--the very morning afterthat--she was dead in her bed; the colour gone for ever from thosevelvet cheeks, the fire quenched out of those passionate eyes, pastpower of love or hate to rekindle. _Requiescat in pace_, and may Godgive her eternal rest and forgiveness for all her sins. Poor, beautiful, erring woman!

CHAPTER IX

At nine o'clock on the morning of the baroness' death, as Nino was busysinging scales, there was a ring at the door, and presently Mariucciacame running in as fast as her poor old legs could carry her, andwhiter than a pillow-case, to say that there was a man at the doorwith two gendarmes, asking for Nino; and before I could question herthe three men walked unbidden into the room, demanding which wasGiovanni Cardegna, the singer. Nino started, and then said quietlythat he was the man. I have had dealings with these people, and I knowwhat is best to be done. They were inclined to be rough and veryperemptory. I confess I was frightened; but I think I am more cunningwhen I am a little afraid. 

"Mariuccia, " I said, as she stood trembling in the door-way, waitingto see what would happen, "fetch a flask of that old wine, and servethese gentlemen, --and a few chestnuts, if you have some. Be seated, signori, " I said to them, "and take one of these cigars. My boy is asinger, and you would not hurt his voice by taking him out so early onthis raw morning. Sit down, Nino, and ask these gentlemen what theydesire. " They all sat down, somewhat sullenly, and the gendarmes'sabres clanked on the brick floor. 

"What do you wish from me?" asked Nino, who was not much moved afterthe first surprise. 

"We regret to say, " answered the man in plain clothes, "that we arehere to arrest you. "

"May I inquire on what charge?" I asked. "But first let me fillyour glasses. Dry throats make surly answers, as the proverb says. "They drank. It chanced that the wine was good, being from my ownvineyard, --my little vineyard that I bought outside of PortaSalara, --and the men were cold and wet, for it was raining. 

"Well, " said the man who had spoken before, --he was clean-shaved andfat, and he smacked his lips over the wine, --"It is not our way toanswer questions. But since you are so civil, I will tell you that youare arrested on suspicion of having poisoned that Russian baroness, with the long name, at whose house you have been so intimate. "

"Poisoned? The baroness poisoned? Is she very ill, then?" asked Nino, in great alarm. 

"She is dead, " said the fat mat, wiping his mouth and twisting theempty glass in his hand. 

"Dead!" cried Nino and I together. 

"Dead--yes; as dead as St. Peter, " he answered, irreverently. "Yourwine is good, Signor Professore. Yes, I will take another glass--andmy men, too. Yes, she was found dead this morning, lying in her bed. You were there yesterday, Signor Cardegna, and her servant says he sawyou giving her something in a glass of water. " He drank a long draughtfrom his glass. "You would have done better to give her some of thiswine, my friend. She would certainly be alive to-day. " But Nino wasdark and thoughtful. He must have been pained and terribly shocked atthe sudden news, of course, but he did not admire her as I did. 

"Of course this thing will soon be over, " he said at last. "I am verymuch grieved to hear of the lady's death, but it is absurd to supposethat I was concerned in it, however it happened. She fainted suddenlyin the morning when I was there, and I gave her some water to drink, but there was nothing in it. " He clasped his hands on his knee, andlooked much distressed. 

"It is quite possible that you poisoned her, " remarked the fat man, with annoying indifference. "The servant says he overheard high wordsbetween you--"

"He overheard?" cried Nino, springing to his feet. "Cursed beast, tolisten at the door!" He began to walk about excitedly, "How long isthis affair to keep me?" he asked, suddenly; "I have to singto-night--and that poor lady lying there dead--oh, I cannot!"

"Perhaps you will not be detained more than a couple of hours, " saidthe fat man. "And perhaps you will be detained until the Day ofJudgment, " he added, with a sly wink at the gendarmes, who laughedobsequiously. "By this afternoon, the doctors will know of what shedied; and if there was no poison, and she died a natural death, youcan go to the theatre and sing, if you have the stomach. I would, I amsure. You see, she is a great lady, and the people of her embassy arecausing everything to be done very quickly. If you had poisoned thatold lady who brought us this famous wine a minute ago, you might havehad to wait till next year, innocent or guilty. " It struck me that thewine was producing its effect. 

"Very well, " said Nino, resolutely; "let us go. You will see that I amperfectly ready, although the news has shaken me much; and so you willpermit me to walk quietly with you, without attracting any attention?"

"Oh, we would not think of incommoding you, " said the fat man. "Theorders were expressly to give you every convenience, and we havea private carriage below. Signor Grandi, we thank you for yourcivility. Good-morning--a thousand excuses. " He bowed, and thegendarmes rose to their feet, refreshed and ruddy with the good wine. Of course I knew I could not accompany them, and I was too muchfrightened to have been of any use. Poor Mariuccia was crying in thekitchen. 

"Send word to Jacovacci, the manager, if you do not hear by twelveo'clock, " Nino called back from the landing, and the door closedbehind them all. I was left alone, sad and frightened, and I felt veryold--much older than I am. 

It was tragic. Mechanically I sank into the old green arm-chair, whereshe had sat but yesterday evening--she whom I had seen but twice, oncein the theatre and once here, but of whom I had heard so much. And shewas dead, so soon. If Nino could only have heard her last words andseen her last look he would have been more hurt when he heard of hersudden death. But he is of stone, that man, save for his love and hisart. He seems to have no room left for sympathy with human ills, noreven for fear on his own account. Fear!--how I hate the word! Ninodid not seem frightened at all when they took him away. But as forme--well, it was not for myself this time, at least. That is somecomfort. I think one may be afraid for other people. 

Mariuccia was so much disturbed that I was obliged to go myself toget De Pretis, who gave up all his lessons that day and came to giveme his advice. He looked grave and spoke very little, but he is abroad-shouldered, genial man, and very comforting. He insisted ongoing himself at once to see Nino, to give him all the help he could. He would not hear of my going, for he said I ought to be bled and havesome tea of mallows to calm me. And when I offered him a cigar fromthe box of good ones Nino had given me he took six or seven, and putthem in his pocket without saying a word. But I did not grudge them tohim; for though he is very ridiculous, with his skull-cap and hissnuff-box, he is a leal man, as we say, who stands by his friends andsnaps his fingers at the devil. 

I cannot describe to you the anxiety I felt through all that day. Icould not eat, nor drink, nor write. I could not smoke, and when Itried to go to sleep that cat--an apoplexy on her!--climbed up on myshoulder and clawed my hair, Mariuccia sat moaning in the kitchen andcould not cook at all, so that I was half starved. 

At three o'clock De Pretis came back. 

"Courage, conte mio!" he cried; and I knew it was all right. "Courage!Nino is at liberty again, and says he will sing to-night to show themhe is not a clay doll, to be broken by a little knocking about. Ah, what a glorious boy Nino is!"

"But where is he!" I asked, when I could find voice to speak, for Iwas all trembling. 

"He is gone for a good walk, to freshen his nerves, poverino. I wonderhe has any strength left. For Heaven's sake, give me a match that Imay light my cigar, and then I will tell you all about it. Thank you. And I will sit down comfortably--so. Now you must know that thebaroness--_requiescat_!--was not poisoned by Nino, or by anyone else. "

"Of course not! Go on. "

"Piano--slow and sure. They had a terrific scene yesterday. You know?Yes. Then she went out and tired herself, poor soul, so that when shegot home she had an attack of the nerves. Now these foreigners, whoare a pack of silly people, do not have themselves bled and drinkmalva water as we do when we get a fit of anger. But they take opium;that is, a thing they call chloral. God knows what it is made of, butit puts them to sleep, like opium. When the doctors came to look atthe poor lady they saw at once what was the matter, and called themaid. The maid said her mistress certainly had some green stuff in alittle bottle which she often used to take; and when they inquiredfurther they heard that the baroness had poured out much more thanusual the night before, while the maid was combing her hair, for sheseemed terribly excited and restless. So they got the bottle and foundit nearly empty. Then the doctors said, 'At what time was this youngman who is now arrested seen to give her the glass of water?' Theman-servant said it was about two in the afternoon. So the doctorsknew that if Nino had given her the chloral she could not have goneout afterwards, and have been awake at eleven in the evening when hermaid was with her, and yet have been hurt by what he gave her. And so, as Jacovacci was raising a thousand devils in every corner of Romebecause they had arrested his principal singer on false pretences, andwas threatening to bring suits against everybody, including theRussian embassy, the doctors, and the Government, if Nino did notappear in _Faust_ to-night, according to his agreement, the result wasthat, half an hour ago, Nino was conducted out of the police precinctswith ten thousand apologies, and put into the arms of Jacovacci, whowept for joy, and carried him off to a late breakfast at Morteo's. Andthen I came here. But I made Nino promise to take a good walk for hisdigestion, since the weather has changed. For a breakfast at three inthe afternoon may be called late, even in Rome. And that reminds me toask you for a drop of wine; for I am still fasting, and this talkingis worse for the throat than a dozen high masses. "

Mariuccia had been listening at the door, as usual, and sheimmediately began crying for joy; for she is a weak-minded old thing, and dotes on Nino. I was very glad myself, I can tell you; but Icould not understand how Nino could have the heart to sing, or shouldlack heart so much as to be fit for it. Before the evening he camehome, silent and thoughtful. I asked him whether he were not glad tobe free so easily. 

"That is not a very intelligent question for a philosopher like you toask, " he answered. "Of course I am glad of my liberty; any man wouldbe. But I feel that I am as much the cause of that poor lady's deathas though I had killed her with my own hands. I shall never forgivemyself. "

"Diana!" I cried, "it is a horrible tragedy; but it seems to me thatyou could not help it if she chose to love you. "

"Hush!" said he, so sternly that he frightened me. "She is dead. Godgive her soul rest. Let us not talk of what she did. "

"But, " I objected, "if you feel so strongly about it, how can you singat the opera to-night?"

"There are plenty of reasons why I should sing. In the first place, Iowe it to my engagement with Jacovacci. He has taken endless troubleto have me cleared at once, and I will not disappoint him. Besides, Ihave not lost my voice, and might be half ruined by breaking contractso early. Then, the afternoon papers are full of the whole affair, some right and some wrong, and I am bound to show the Contessina diLira that this unfortunate accident does not touch my heart, howeversorry I may be. If I did not appear all Rome would say it was becauseI was heart-broken. If she does not go to the theatre, she will atleast hear of it. Therefore I will sing. " It was very reasonable ofhim to think so. 

"Have any of the papers got hold of the story of your giving lessons?"

"No, I think not; and there is no mention of the Lira family. "

"So much the better. "

Hedwig did not go to the opera. Of course she was quite right. Howevershe might feel about the baroness, it would have been in the worstpossible taste to go to the opera the very day after her death. Thatis the way society puts it. It is bad taste; they never say it isheartless, or unkind, or brutal. It is simply bad taste. Nino sang, onthe whole, better than if she had been there, for he put his wholesoul in his art and won fresh laurels. When it was over he wasbesieged by the agent of the London manager to come to some agreement. 

"I cannot tell yet, " he said. "I will tell you soon. " He was notwilling to leave Rome--that was the truth of the matter. He thought ofnothing, day or night, but of how he might see Hedwig, and his heartwrithed in his breast when it seemed more and more impossible. Hedared not risk compromising her by another serenade, as he felt surethat it had been some servant of the count who had betrayed him to thebaroness. At last he hit upon a plan. The funeral of the baroness wasto take place on the afternoon of the next day. He felt sure that theGraf von Lira would go to it, and he was equally certain that Hedwigwould not. It chanced to be the hour at which De Pretis went to thePalazzo to give her the singing lesson. 

"I suppose it is a barbarous thing for me to do, " he said to himself, "but I cannot help it. Love first, and tragedy afterwards. "

In the afternoon, therefore, he sallied out, and went boldly to thePalazzo Carmandola. He inquired of the porter whether the Signor Contehad gone out, and just as he had expected, so he found it. Old Lirahad left the house ten minutes earlier, to go to the funeral. Ninoran up the stairs and rang the bell. The footman opened the door, andNino quickly slipped a five-franc note into his hand, which he had nodifficulty in finding. On asking if the signorina were at home, thefootman nodded, and added that Professor De Pretis was with her, butshe would doubtless see Professor Cardegna as well. And so it turnedout. He was ushered into the great drawing-room, where the piano was. Hedwig came forward a few steps from where she had been standingbeside De Pretis, and Nino bowed low before her. She had on a longdark dress, and no ornament whatever, save her beautiful bright hair, so that her face was like a jewel set in gold and velvet. But, when Ithink of it, such a combination would seem absurdly vulgar by the sideof Hedwig von Lira. She was so pale and exquisite and sad that Ninocould hardly look at her. He remembered that there were violets, rarest of flowers in Rome in January, in her belt. 

To tell the truth, Nino had expected to find her stern and cold, whereas she was only very quiet and sorrowful. 

"Will you forgive me, signorina, for this rashness?" he asked, in alow voice. 

"In that I receive you I forgive you, sir, " she said. He glancedtoward De Pretis, who seemed absorbed in some music at the piano andwas playing over bits of an accompaniment. She understood, and movedslowly to a window at the other end of the great room, standing amongthe curtains. He placed himself in the embrasure. She looked at himlong and earnestly, as if finally reconciling the singer with the manshe had known so long. She found him changed, as I had, in a shorttime. His face was sterner and thinner and whiter than before, andthere were traces of thought in the deep shadows beneath his eyes. Quietly observing him, she saw how perfectly simple and exquisitelycareful was his dress, and how his hands bespoke that attention whichonly a gentleman gives to the details of his person. She saw that, ifhe were not handsome, he was in the last degree striking to the eye, in spite of all his simplicity, and that he would not lose by beingcontrasted with all the dandies and courtiers in Rome. As she looked, she saw his lip quiver slightly, the only sign of emotion he evergives, unless he loses his head altogether, and storms, as hesometimes does. 

"Signorina, " he began, "I have come to tell you a story; will youlisten to it?"

"Tell it me, " said she, still looking in his face. 

"There was once a solitary castle in the mountains, with battlementand moat both high and broad. Far up in a lonely turret dwelt a raremaiden, of such surpassing beauty and fairness that the peasantsthought she was not mortal, but an angel from heaven, resting in thattower from the doing of good deeds. She had flowers up there in herchamber, and the seeds of flowers; and as the seasons passed by, shetook from her store the dry germs, and planted them one after anotherin a little earth on the window-sill. And the sun shone on them andthey grew, and she breathed upon them and they were sweet. But theywithered and bore no offspring, and fell away, so that year by yearher store became diminished. At last there was but one little paperbag of seed left, and upon the cover was written in a strangecharacter, 'This is the Seed of the Thorn of the World. ' But thebeautiful maiden was sad when she saw this, for she said 'All myflowers have been sweet, and now I have but this thing left, which isa thorn!' And she opened the paper and looked inside, and saw one poorlittle seed all black and shrivelled. Through that day she ponderedwhat to do with it, and was very unhappy. At night she said toherself, 'I will not plant this one; I will throw it away rather thanplant it. ' And she went to the window, and tore the paper, and threwout the little seed into the darkness. "

"Poor little thing!" said Hedwig. She was listening intently. 

"She threw it out, and as it fell, all the air was full of music, sadand sweet, so that she wondered greatly. The next day she looked outof the window, and saw, between the moat and the castle wall, a newplant growing. It looked black and uninviting, but it had come up sofast that it had already laid hold on the rough gray stones. At thefalling of the night it reached far up towards the turret, a greatsharp-pointed vine, with only here and there a miserable leaf on it. 'I am sorry I threw it out, ' said the maiden. 'It is the Thorn of theWorld, and the people who pass will think it defaces my castle. ' Butwhen it was dark again the air was full of music. The maiden went tothe window, for she could not sleep, and she called out, asking whoit was that sang. Then a sweet, low voice came up to her from themoat. 'I am the Thorn, ' it said, 'I sing in the dark, for I amgrowing. '--'Sing on, Thorn, ' said she, 'and grow if you will. ' But inthe morning when she awoke, her window was darkened, for the Thorn hadgrown to be a mighty tree, and its topmost shoots were black againstthe sky. She wondered whether this uncouth plant would bear anythingbut music. So she spoke to it. 

"'Thorn, ' she said, 'why have you no flowers?'

"'I am the Thorn of the World, ' it answered, 'and I can bear noflowers until the hand that planted me has tended me, and pruned me, and shaped me to be its own. If you had planted me like the rest, itwould have been easy for you. But you planted me unwillingly, downbelow you by the moat, and I have had far to climb. '

"'But my hands are so delicate, ' said the maiden. 'You will hurt me, I am sure. '

"'Yours is the only hand in the world that I will not hurt, ' said thevoice, so tenderly and softly and sadly that the gentle fingers wentout to touch the plant and see if it were real. And touching it theyclung there, for they had no harm of it. Would you know, my lady, whathappened then?"

"Yes, yes--tell me!" cried Hedwig, whose imagination was fascinated bythe tale. 

"As her hands rested on the spiked branches, a gentle trembling wentthrough the Thorn, and in a moment there burst out such a blooming andblossoming as the maiden had never seen. Every prick became a rose, and they were so many that the light of the day was tinged with them, and their sweetness was like the breath of paradise. But below herwindow the Thorn was as black and forbidding as ever, for only themaiden's presence could make its flowers bloom. But she smelled theflowers, and pressed many of them to her cheek. 

"'I thought you were only a Thorn, ' she said, softly. 

"'Nay, fairest maiden, ' answered the glorious voice of the burstingblossom, 'I am the Rose of the World for ever, since you have touchedme. '

"That is my story, signorina. Have I wearied you?"

Hedwig had unconsciously moved nearer to him as he was speaking, forhe never raised his voice, and she hung on his words. There was colourin her face, and her breath came quickly through her parted lips. Shehad never looked so beautiful. 

"Wearied me, signore? Ah no; it is a gentle tale of yours. "

"It is a true tale--in part, " said he. 

"In part? I do not understand--" But the colour was warmer in hercheek, and she turned her face half away, as though looking out. 

"I will tell you, " he replied, coming closer, on the side from whichshe turned. "Here is the window. You are the maiden. The thorn--it ismy love for you"; he dropped his voice to a whisper "You planted itcarelessly, far below you in the dark. In the dark it has grown andsung to you, and grown again, until now it stands in your own castlewindow. Will you not touch it and make its flowers bloom for you?" Hespoke fervently. She had turned her face quite from him now, and wasresting her forehead against one hand that leaned upon the heavy frameof the casement. The other hand hung down by her side toward him, fairas a lily against her dark gown. Nino touched it, then took it. Hecould see the blush spread to her white throat, and fade again. Between the half-falling curtain and the great window he bent his kneeand pressed her fingers to his lips. She made as though she wouldwithdraw her hand, and then left it in his. Her glance stole to him ashe kneeled there, and he felt it on him, so that he looked up. Sheseemed to raise him with her fingers, and her eyes held his and drewthem; he stood up, and, still holding her hand, his face was near tohers. Closer and closer yet, as by a spell, each gazing searchinglyinto the other's glance, till their eyes could see no more forcloseness, and their lips met in life's first virgin kiss, --in theglory and strength of a two-fold purity, each to each. 

Far off at the other end of the room De Pretis struck a chord on thepiano. They started at the sound. 

"When?" whispered Nino, hurriedly. 

"At midnight, under my window, " she answered, quickly, not thinking ofanything better in her haste. "I will tell you then. You must go; myfather will soon be here. No, not again, " she protested. But he drewher to him, and said good-bye in his own manner. She lingered aninstant, and tore herself away. De Pretis was playing loudly. Nino hadto pass near him to go out, and the maestro nodded carelessly as hewent by. 

"Excuse me, maestro, " said Hedwig, as Nino bowed himself out; "it wasa question of arranging certain lessons. "

"Do not mention it, " said he, indifferently; "my time is yours, signorina. Shall we go through with this solfeggio once more?"

The good maestro did not seem greatly disturbed by the interruption. Hedwig wondered, dreamily, whether he had understood. It all seemedlike a dream. The notes were upside down in her sight, and her voicesought strange minor keys unconsciously, as she vainly tried toconcentrate her attention upon what she was doing. 

"Signorina, " said Ercole at last, "what you sing is very pretty, butit is not exactly what is written here. I fear you are tired. "

"Perhaps so, " said she. "Let us not sing any more to-day. " Ercole shutup the music and rose. She gave him her hand, a thing she had neverdone before; and it was unconscious now, as everything she did seemedto be. There is a point when dreaming gets the mastery and appearsinfinitely more real than the things we touch. 

Nino, meanwhile, had descended the steps, expecting every moment tomeet the count. As he went down the street a closed carriage drove bywith the Lira liveries. The old count was in it, but Nino stepped intothe shadow of a doorway to let the equipage pass, and was not seen. The wooden face of the old nobleman almost betrayed something akin toemotion. He was returning from the funeral, and it had pained him;for he had liked the wild baroness in a fatherly, reproving way. Butthe sight of him sent a home thrust to Nino's heart. 

"Her death is on my soul for ever, " he muttered between his set teeth. Poor innocent boy, it was not his fault if she had loved him so much. Women have done things for great singers that they have not done formartyrs or heroes. It seems so certain that the voice that sings sotenderly is speaking to them individually. Music is such a fleeting, passionate thing that a woman takes it all to herself; how could hesing like that for anyone else? And yet there is always someone forwhom he does really pour out his heart, and all the rest are the dollsof life, to be looked at and admired for their dress and complexion, and to laugh at when the fancy takes him to laugh; but not to love. 

At midnight Nino was at his post, but he waited long and patiently fora sign. It was past two, and he was thinking it hopeless to waitlonger, when his quick ear caught the sound of a window moving on itshinges, and a moment later something fell at his feet with a sharp, metallic click. The night was dark and cloudy, so that the waning moongave little light. He picked up the thing and found a small pockethandkerchief wrapped about a minute pair of scissors, apparently togive it weight. He expected a letter, and groped on the damp pavementwith his hands. Then he struck a match, shaded it from the breeze withhis hand, and saw that the handkerchief was stained with ink, and thatthe stains were letters, roughly printed to make them distinct. Hehurried away to the light of a street lamp to read the strangemissive. 

CHAPTER X

He went to the light and spread out the handkerchief. It was a smallthing, of almost transparent stuff, with a plain "H. L. " and a crown inthe corner. The steel pen had torn the delicate fibres here and there. 

"They know you have been here. I am watched. Keep away from the housetill you hear. "

That was all the message, but it told worlds. He knew from it that thecount was informed of his visit, and he tortured himself by trying toimagine what the angry old man would do. His heart sank like a stonein his breast when he thought of Hedwig, so imprisoned, guarded, madea martyr of, for his folly. He groaned aloud when he understood thatit was in the power of her father to take her away suddenly and leaveno trace of their destination, and he cursed his haste and impetuosityin having shown himself inside the house. But with all this weight oftrouble upon him, he felt the strength and indomitable determinationwithin him which come only to a man who loves, when he knows he isloved again. He kissed the little handkerchief, and even the scissorsshe had used to weight it with, and he put them in his breast. But hestood irresolute, leaning against the lamppost, as a man will who istrying to force his thoughts to overtake events, trying to shape outof the present. Suddenly he was aware of a tall figure in a fur coatstanding near him on the sidewalk. He would have turned to go, butsomething about the stranger's appearance struck him so oddly that hestayed where he was and watched him. 

The tall man searched for something in his pockets, and finallyproduced a cigarette, which he leisurely lighted with a wax match. Ashe did so his eyes fell upon Nino. The stranger was tall and verythin. He wore a pointed beard and a heavy moustache, which seemedalmost dazzlingly white, as were the few locks that appeared, neatlybrushed over his temples, beneath his opera hat. His sanguinecomplexion, however, had all the freshness ef youth, and his eyessparkled merrily, as though amused at the spectacle of his nose, whichwas immense, curved, and polished, like an eagle's beak. He woreperfectly-fitting kid gloves, and the collar of his fur wrapper, falling a little open, showed that he was in evening dress. 

It was so late--past two o'clock--that Nino had not expected anythingmore than a policeman or some homeless wanderer, when he raised hiseyes to look on the stranger. He was fascinated by the strangepresence of the aged dandy, for such he seemed to be, and returned hisgaze boldly. He was still more astonished, however, when the oldgentleman came close to him, and raised his hat, displaying, as he didso, a very high and narrow forehead, crowned with a mass of smoothwhite hair. There was both grace and authority in the courteousgesture, and Nino thought the old gentleman moved with an ease thatmatched his youthful complexion rather than his hoary locks. 

"Signor Cardegna, the distinguished artist, if I mistake not?" saidthe stranger, with a peculiar foreign accent, the like of which Ninohad never heard. He also raised his hat, extremely surprised that achance passer-by should know him. He had not yet learned what it is tobe famous. But he was far from pleased at being addressed in hispresent mood. 

"The same, signore, " he replied coldly. "How can I serve you?"

"You can serve the world you so well adorn better than by exposingyour noble voice to the midnight damps and chills of this infernal--Iwould say, eternal--city, " answered the other. "Forgive me. I am, notunnaturally, concerned at the prospect of loosing even a small portionof the pleasure you know how to give to me and to many others. "

"I thank you for your flattery, " said Nino, drawing his cloak abouthim, "but it appears to me that my throat is my own, and whatevervoice there may be in it. Are you a physician, signore? And pray whydo you tell me that Rome is an infernal city?"

"I have had some experience of Rome, Signor Cardegna, " returned theforeigner, with a peculiar smile, "and I hate no place so bitterly inall this world--save one. And as for my being a physician, I am an oldman, a very singularly old man in fact, and I know something of theart of healing. "

"When I need healing, as you call it, " said Nino, rather scornfully, "I will inquire for you. Do you desire to continue this interview amidthe 'damps and chills of our 'infernal city'? If not, I will wish yougood-evening. "

"By no means, " said the other, not in the least repulsed by Nino'scoldness. "I will accommpany you a little way, if you will allow me. "Nino stared hard at the stranger, wondering what could induce him totake so much interest in a singer. Then he nodded gravely and turnedtoward his home, inwardly hoping that his aggressive acquaintancelived in the opposite direction. But he was mistaken. The tall manblew a quantity of smoke through his nose and walked by his side. Hestrode over the pavement with a long, elastic step. 

"I live not far from here, " he said, when they had gone a few steps, "and if the Signor Cardegna will accept of a glass of old wine and agood cigar I shall feel highly honoured. " Somehow an invitation ofthis kind was the last thing Nino had expected or desired, least ofall from a talkative stranger who seemed determined to make hisacquaintance. 

"I thank you, signore, " he answered, "but I have supped, and I do notsmoke. "

"Ah--I forgot. You are a singer, and must of course be careful. Thatis perhaps the reason why you wander about the streets when the nightsare dark and damp. But I can offer you something more attractive thanliquor and tobacco. A great violinist lives with me, --a queer, nocturnal bird, --and if you will come he will be enchanted to play foryou. I assure you he is a very-good musician, the like of which youwill hardly hear nowadays. He does not play in public any longer, fromsome odd fancy of his. "

Nino hesitated. Of all instruments he loved the violin best, and inRome he had had but little opportunity of hearing it well played. Concerts were the rarest of luxuries to him, and violinists in Romeare rarer still. 

"What is his name, signore?" he asked, unbending a little. 

"You must guess that when you hear him, " said the old gentleman, with a short laugh. "But I give you my word of honour he is agreat musician. Will you come, or must I offer you still furtherattractions?"

"What might they be?" asked Nino. 

"Nay; will you come for what I offer you? If the music is not good, you may go away again. " Still Nino hesitated. Sorrowful and fearful ofthe future as he was, his love gnawing cruelly at his heart, he wouldhave given the whole world for a strain of rare music if only he werenot forced to make it himself. Then it struck him that this might besome pitfall. I would not have gone. 

"Sir, " he said at last, "if you meditate any foul play, I would adviseyou to retract your invitation. I will come, and I am well armed. " Hehad my long knife about him somewhere. It is one of my precautions. But the stranger laughed long and loud at the suggestion, so that hisvoice woke queer echoes in the silent street. Nino did not understandwhy he should laugh so much, but he found his knife under his cloak, and made sure it was loose in its leathern sheath. Presently thestranger stopped before the large door of an old palazzo, --every houseis a palazzo that has an entrance for carriages, and let himself inwith a key. There was a lantern on the stone pavement inside, andseeing a light, Nino followed him boldly. The old gentleman took thelantern and led the way up the stairs, apologising for the distanceand the darkness. At last they stopped, and, entering another door, found themselves in the stranger's apartment. 

"A cardinal lives downstairs, " said he, as he turned up the light of acouple of large lamps that burned dimly in the room they had reached. "The secretary of a very holy order has his office on the other sideof my landing, and altogether this is a very religious atmosphere. Pray take off your cloak; the room is warm. "

Nino looked about him. He had expected to be ushered into someprincely dwelling, for he had judged his interlocutor to be some richand eccentric noble, unless he were an erratic scamp. He was somewhattaken aback by the spectacle that met his eyes. The furniture wasscant, and all in the style of the last century. The dust lay half aninch thick on the old gilded ornaments and chandeliers. A greatpier-glass was cracked from corner to corner, and the metallic backingseemed to be scaling off behind. There were two or three open valiseson the marble floor, which latter, however, seemed to have been latelyswept. A square table was in the centre, also free from dust, and afew high-backed leathern chairs, studded with brass nails, were rangedabout it. On the table stood one of the lamps, and the other wasplaced on a marble column in a corner, that once must have supported abust, or something of the kind. Old curtains, moth-eaten and raggedwith age, but of a rich material, covered the windows. Nino glanced atthe open trunks on the floor, and saw that they contained a quantityof wearing apparel and the like. He guessed that his acquaintance hadlately arrived. 

"I do not often inhabit this den, " said the old gentleman, who haddivested himself of his furs, and now showed his thin figure arrayedin the extreme of full dress. A couple of decorations hung at hisbutton-hole. "I seldom come here, and on my return, the other day, Ifound that the man I had left in charge was dead, with, all hisfamily, and the place has gone to ruin. That is always my luck, " headded, with a little laugh. 

"I should think he must have been dead some time, " said Nino, lookingabout him. "There is a great deal of dust here. "

"Yes, as you say, it is some years, " returned his acquaintance, stilllaughing. He seemed a merry old soul, fifty years younger than hislooks. He produced from a case a bottle of wine and two silver cups, and placed them on the table. 

"But where is your friend, the violinist?" inquired Nino, who wasbeginning to be impatient; for except that the place was dusty andold, there was nothing about it sufficiently interesting to take histhoughts from the subject nearest his heart. 

"I will introduce him to you, " said the other, going to one of thevalises and taking out a violin case, which he laid on the table andproceeded to open. The instrument was apparently of great age, smalland well shaped. The stranger took it up and began to tune it. 

"Do you mean to say that you are yourself the violinist?" he asked, inastonishment. But the stranger vouchsafed no answer, as he steadiedthe fiddle with his bearded chin and turned the pegs with his lefthand, adjusting the strings. 

Then, suddenly and without any preluding, he began to make music, andfrom the first note Nino sat enthralled and fascinated, losing himselfin the wild sport of the tones. The old man's face became ashy whiteas he played, and his white hair appeared to stand away from his head. The long, thin fingers of his left hand chased each other in pairsand singly along the delicate strings, while the bow glanced inthe lamplight as it dashed like lightning across the instrument, orremained almost stationary, quivering in his magic hold as quickly asthe wings of the humming-bird strike the summer air. Sometimes heseemed to be tearing the heart from the old violin; sometimes itseemed to murmur soft things in his old ear, as though the imprisonedspirit of the music were pleading to be free on the wings of sound:sweet as love that is strong as death; feverish and murderous asjealousy that is as cruel as the grave; sobbing great sobs of aterrible death-song, and screaming in the outrageous frenzy of afurious foe; wailing thin cries of misery, too exhausted for stronggrief; dancing again in horrid madness, as the devils dance over somefresh sinner they have gotten themselves for torture; and then atlast, as the strings bent to the commanding bow, finding the triumphof a glorious rest in great, broad chords, splendid in depth and royalharmony, grand, enormous, and massive as the united choirs of heaven. 

Nino was beside himself, leaning far over the table, straining eyesand ears to understand the wonderful music that made him drunkwith its strength. As the tones ceased he sank back in his chair, exhausted by the tremendous effort of his senses. Instantly the oldman recovered his former appearance. With his hand he smoothed histhick white hair; the fresh colour came back to his cheeks; andas he tenderly laid his violin on the table, he was again theexquisitely-dressed and courtly gentleman who had spoken to Nino inthe street. The musician disappeared, and the man of the worldreturned. He poured wine into the plain silver cups, and invited Ninoto drink; but the boy pushed the goblet away, and his strange hostdrank alone. 

"You asked me for the musician's name, " he said, with a merry twinklein his eye, from which every trace of artistic inspiration had faded;"can you guess it now?" Nino seemed tongue-tied still, but he made aneffort. 

"I have heard of Paganini, " he said, "but he died years ago. "

"Yes, he is dead, poor fellow! I am not Paganini. "

"I am at a loss, then, " said Nino, dreamily, "I do not know the namesof many violinists, but you must be so famous that I ought to knowyours. "

"No; how should you? I will tell you. I am Benoni, the Jew. " The tallman's eyes twinkled more brightly than ever. Nino stared at him, andsaw that he was certainly of a pronounced Jewish type. His brown eyeswere long and oriental in shape, and his nose was unmistakablySemitic. 

"I am sorry to seem so ignorant, " said Nino, blushing, "but I do notknow the name. I perceive, however, that you are indeed a very greatmusician, --the greatest I ever heard. " The compliment was perfectlysincere, and Benoni's face beamed with pleasure. He evidently likedpraise. 

"It is not extraordinary, " he said smiling. "In the course of a verylong life it has been my only solace, and if I have some skill it isthe result of constant study. I began life very humbly. "

"So did I, " said Nino, thoughtfully, "and I am not far from thehumbleness yet. "

"Tell me, " said Benoni, with a show of interest, "where you come from, and why you are a singer. "

"I was a peasant's child, an orphan, and the good God gave me a voice. That is all I know about it. A kind-hearted gentleman, who once ownedthe estate where I was born, brought me up, and wanted to make aphilosopher of me. But I wanted to sing, and so I did. "

"Do you always do the things you want to do?" asked the other, "Youlook as though you might. You look like Napoleon--that man alwaysinterested me. That is why I asked you to come and see me. I haveheard you sing, and you are a great artist--an additional reason. Allartists should be brothers. Do you not think so?"

"Indeed, I know very few good ones, " said Nino simply; "and even amongthem I would like to choose before claiming relationship--personally. But Art is a great mother, and we are all her children. "

"More especially we who began life so poorly, and love Art because sheloves us. " Benoni seated himself on the arm of one of the old chairs, and looked down across the worm-eaten table at the young singer. "We, "he continued, "who have been wretchedly poor know better than othersthat Art is real, true, and enduring; medicine in sickness and food infamine; wings to the feet of youth and a staff for the steps of oldage. Do you think I exaggerate, or do you feel as I do?" He paused foran answer, and poured more wine into his goblet. 

"Oh, you know I feel as you do!" cried Nino, with rising enthusiasm. 

"Very good; you are a genuine artist. What you have not felt yet youwill feel hereafter. You have not suffered yet. "

"You do not know about me, " said Nino in a low voice. "I am sufferingnow. "

Benoni smiled. "Do you call that suffering? Well, it is perhaps veryreal to you, though I do not know what it is. But Art will help youthrough it all, as it has helped me. "

"What were you?" asked Nino. "You say you were poor. "

"Yes. I was a shoemaker, and a poor one at that. I have worn out moreshoes than I ever made. But I was brought up to it for many years. "

"You did not study music from a child, then?"

"No. But I always loved it; and I used to play in the evenings when Ihad been cobbling all day long. "

"And one day you found out you were a great artist and became famous. I see! What a strange beginning!" cried Nino. 

"Not exactly that. It took a long time. I was obliged to leave myhome, for other reasons, and then I played from door to door, and fromtown to town, for whatever coppers were thrown to me. I had neverheard any good music, and so I played the things that came into myhead. By and bye people would make me stay with them awhile, for mymusic sake. But I never stayed long. "

"Why not?"

"I cannot tell you now, " said Benoni, looking grave and almost sad:"it is a very long story. I have travelled a great deal, preferring alife of adventure. But of late money has grown to be so important athing that I have given a series of great concerts, and have becomerich enough to play for my own pleasure. Besides, though I travel somuch, I like society, and I know many people everywhere. To-night, forinstance, though I have been in Rome only a week, I have been to adinner party, to the theatre, to a reception, and to a ball. Everybodyinvites me as soon as I arrive. I am very popular, --and yet I am aJew, " he added, laughing in an odd way. 

"But you are a merry Jew, " said Nino, laughing too, "besides being agreat genius. I do not wonder people invite you. "

"It is better to be merry than sad, " replied Benoni. "In the course ofa long life I have found out that. "

"You do not look so very old, " said Nino. "How old are you?"

"That is a rude question, " said his host, laughing. "But I willimprovise a piece of music for you. " He took his violin, and stood upbefore the broken pier-glass. Then he laid the bow over the stringsand struck a chord. "What is that?" he asked, sustaining the sound. 

"The common chord of A minor, " answered Nino immediately. 

"You have a good ear, " said Benoni, still playing the same notes, sothat the constant monotony of them buzzed like a vexatious insect inNino's hearing. Still the old man sawed the bow over the same stringswithout change. On and on, the same everlasting chord, till Ninothought he must go mad. 

"It is intolerable; for the love of heaven, stop!" he cried, pushingback his chair and beginning to pace the room. Benoni only smiled, andwent on as unchangingly as ever. Nino could bear it no longer, beingvery sensitive about sounds, and he made for the door. 

"You cannot get out, --I have the key in my pocket, " said Benoni, without stopping. 

Then Nino became nearly frantic, and made at the Jew to wrest theinstrument from his hands. But Benoni was agile, and eluded him, stillplaying vigorously the one chord, till Nino cried aloud, and sank in achair, entirely overcome by the torture, that seemed boring its wayinto his brain like a corkscrew. 

"This, " said Benoni, the bow still sawing the strings, "is lifewithout laughter. Now let us laugh a little, and see the effect. "

It was indeed wonderful. With his instrument he imitated the sound ofa laughing voice, high up above the monotonous chord: softly at first, as though far in the distance; then louder and nearer, the sustainingnotes of the minor falling away one after the other and losingthemselves, as the merriment gained ground on the sadness; tillfinally, with a burst of life and vitality of which it would beimpossible to convey any idea, the whole body of mirth broke into awild tarantella movement, so vivid and elastic and noisy that itseemed to Nino that he saw the very feet of the dancers, and heard thejolly din of the tambourine and the clattering, clappering click ofthe castanets. 

"That, " said Benoni, suddenly stopping, "is life with laughter, be itever so sad and monotonous before. Which do you prefer?"

"You are the greatest artist in the world!" cried Nino, enthusiastically; "but I should have been a raving madman if you hadplayed that chord any longer. "

"Of course, " said Benoni, "and I should have gone mad if I had notlaughed. Poor Schumann, you know, died insane because he fancied healways heard one note droning in his ears. "

"I can understand that, " said Nino. "But it is late, and I must begoing home. Forgive my rudeness and reluctance to come with you. I wasmoody and unhappy. You have given me more pleasure than I can tellyou. "

"It will seem little enough to-morrow, I dare say, " replied Benoni. "That is the way with pleasures. But you should get them all the same, when you can, and grasp them as tightly as a drowning man grasps astraw. Pleasures and money, money and pleasures. "

Nino did not understand the tone in which his host made this lastremark. He had learned different doctrines from me. 

"Why do you speak so selfishly, after showing that you can givepleasure so freely, and telling me that we are all brothers?" heasked. 

"If you are not in a hurry, I will explain to you that money is theonly thing in this world worth having, " said Benoni, drinking anothercup of the wine, which appeared to have no effect whatever on hisbrain. 

"Well?" said Nino, curious to hear what he had to say. 

"In the first place, you will allow that from the noblest moralstandpoint a man's highest aim should be to do good to hisfellow-creatures? Yes, you allow that. And to do the greatest possiblegood to the greatest possible number? Yes, you allow that also. Then, I say, other things being alike, a good man will do the greatestpossible amount of good in the world when he has the greatest possibleamount of money. The more money, the more good; the less money, theless good. Of course money is only the means to the end, but nothingtangible in the world can ever be anything else. All art is only ameans to the exciting of still more perfect images in the brain; allcrime is a means to the satisfaction of passion, or avarice, which isitself a king-passion; all good itself is a means to the attainment ofheaven. Everything is bad or good in the world except art, which is athing separate, though having good and bad results. But the attainmentof heaven is the best object to keep in view. To that end, do the mostgood; and to do it, get the most money. Therefore, as a means, moneyis the only thing in the world worth having, since you can mostbenefit humanity by it, and consequently be the most sure of going toheaven when you die. Is that clear?"

"Perfectly, " said Nino, "provided a man is himself good. "

"It is very reprehensible to be bad, " said Benoni, with a smile. 

"What a ridiculous truism!" said Nino, laughing outright. 

"Very likely, " said the other. "But I never heard any preacher, in anycountry, tell his congregation anything else. And people always listenwith attention. In countries where rain is entirely unknown, it is nota truism to say that 'when it rains it is damp. ' On the contrary, insuch countries that statement would be regarded as requiringdemonstration, and once demonstrated, it would be treasured and taughtas an interesting scientific fact. Now it is precisely the same withcongregations of men. They were never bad, and never can be; in fact, they doubt, in their dear innocent hearts, whether they know what areal sin is. Consequently, they listen with interest to the statementthat sin is bad, and promise themselves that if ever that piece ofinformation should be unexpectedly needed by any of their friends, they will remember it. "

"You are a satirist, Signor Benoni, " said Nino. 

"Anything you like, " returned the other, "I have been called worsenames than that in my time. So much for heaven and the prospect of it. But a gentleman has arisen in a foreign country who says that there isno heaven, anywhere, and that no one does good except in the pursuitof pleasure here or hereafter. But as his hereafter is nowhere, disregard it in the argument, and say that man should only do, oractually does, everything solely for the sake of pleasure here; saythat pleasure is good, so long as it does not interfere with thepleasures of others, and good is pleasure. Money may help a man tomore of it, but pleasure is the thing. Well, then, my young brotherartist, what did I say?--'money and pleasure, pleasure and money. ' Themeans are there; and as, of course, you are good, like everybody else, and desire pleasure, you will get to heaven hereafter, if there issuch a place; and if not, you will get the next thing to it, which isa paradise on earth. " Having reached the climax, Signor Benoni lit acigarette, and laughed his own peculiar laugh. 

Nino shuddered involuntarily at the hideous sophistry. For Nino is agood boy, and believes very much in heaven, as well as in a couple ofother places. Benoni's quick brown eyes saw the movement, andunderstood it, for he laughed longer yet, and louder. 

"Why do you laugh like that? I see nothing to laugh at. It is verybitter and bad to hear all this that you say. I would rather hear yourmusic. You are badly off, whether you believe in heaven or not. For ifyou do, you are not likely to get there; and if you do not believe init, you are a heretic, and will be burned for ever and ever. "

"Not so badly answered, for an artist; and in a few words, too, " saidBenoni, approvingly. "But, my dear boy, the trouble is that I shallnot get to heaven either way, for it is my great misfortune to bealready condemned to everlasting flames. "

"No one is that, " said Nino, gravely. 

"There are some exceptions, you know, " said Benoni. 

"Well, " answered the young man thoughtfully, "of course there is theWandering Jew, and such tales, but nobody believes in him. "

"Good-night, " said Benoni. "I am tired and most go to bed. "

Nino found his way out alone, but carefully noted the position of thepalazzo before he went home through the deserted streets. It was fourin the morning. 

CHAPTER XI

Early in the morning after Nino's visit to Signor Benoni, De Pretiscame to my house, wringing his hands and making a great trouble andnoise. I had not yet seen Nino, who was sound asleep, though I couldnot imagine why he did not wake. But De Pretis was in such a temperthat he shook the room and everything in it, as he stamped about thebrick floor. It was not long before he had told me the cause of histrouble. He had just received a formal note from the Graf von Lira, inclosing the amount due to him for lessons, and dispensing with hisservices for the future. 

Of course this was the result of the visit Nino had so rashly made; itall came out afterwards, and I will not now go through the detailsthat De Pretis poured out, when we only half knew the truth. Thecount's servant who admitted Nino had pocketed the five francs asquietly as you please; and the moment the count returned he told himhow Nino had come and had stayed three-quarters of an hour just as ifit were an everyday affair. The count, being a proud old man, did notencourage him to make further confidences, but sent him about hisbusiness. He determined to make a prisoner of his daughter until hecould remove her from Rome. He accordingly confined her in the littlesuite of apartments that were her own, and set an old soldier, whom hehad brought from Germany, as a body-servant, to keep watch at theouter door. He did not condescend to explain even to Hedwig the causeof his conduct, and she, poor girl, was as proud as he, and would notask why she was shut up, lest the answer should be a storm of abuseagainst Nino. She cared not at all how her father had found out hersecret, so long as he knew it, and she guessed that submission wouldbe the best policy. 

Meanwhile, active preparations were made for an immediate departure. The count informed his friends that he was going to pass Lent inParis, on account of his daughter's health, which was very poor, andin two days everything was ready. They would leave on the followingmorning. In the evening the count entered his daughter's apartments, after causing himself to be formally announced by a servant, andbriefly informed her that they would start for Paris on the followingmorning. Her maid had been engaged in the meantime in packing hereffects, not knowing whither her mistress was going. Hedwig receivedthe announcement in silence, but her father saw that she was deadlywhite and her eyes heavy from weeping. I have anticipated this much tomake things clearer. It was on the first morning of Hedwig'sconfinement that De Pretis came to our house. 

Nino was soon waked by the maestro's noise, and came to the door ofhis chamber, which opens into the little sitting-room, to inquire whatthe matter might be. Nino asked if the maestro were peddling cabbages, that he should scream so loudly. 

"Cabbages, indeed! cabbage yourself, silly boy!" cried Ercole, shakinghis fist at Nino's head, just visible through the crack of the door. "A pretty mess you have made with your ridiculous love affair! Here amI--"

"I see you are, " retorted Nino; "and do not call any affair of mineridiculous, or I will throw you out of the window. Wait a moment!"With that he slammed his door in the maestro's face, and went on withhis dressing. For a few minutes De Pretis raved at his ease, ventinghis wrath on me. Then Nino came out. 

"Now, then, " said he, preparing for a tussle, "what is the matter, mydear maestro?" but Ercole had expended most of his fury already. 

"The matter!" he grumbled. "The matter is that I have lost anexcellent pupil through you. Count Lira says he does not require myservices any longer, and the man who brought the note says they aregoing away. "

"Diavolo!" said Nino, running his fingers through his curly blackhair, "it is indeed serious. Where are they going?"

"How should I know?" asked De Pretis angrily. "I care much more aboutlosing the lesson than about where they are going. I shall not followthem, I promise you. I cannot take the basilica of St. Peter aboutwith me in my pocket, can I?"

And so he was angry at first, and at length he was pacified, andfinally he advised Nino to discover immediately where the count andhis daughter were going; and if it were to any great capital, toendeavour to make a contract to sing there. Lent came early that year, and Nino was free at the end of Carnival, --not many days longer towait. This was the plan that had instantly formed itself in Nino'sbrain. De Pretis is really a most obliging man, but one cannot wonderthat he should be annoyed at the result of Nino's four months'courtship under such great difficulties, when it seemed that all theirefforts had led only to the sudden departure of his lady-love. As forme, I advised Nino to let the whole matter drop then and there. I toldhim he would soon get over his foolish passion, and that a statuelike Hedwig could never suffer anything, since she could never feel. But he glared at me, and did as he liked, just as he always has done. 

The message on the handkerchief that Nino had received the nightbefore warned him to keep away from the Palazzo Carmandola. Ninoreflected that this warning was probably due to Hedwig's anxiety forhis personal safety, and he resolved to risk anything rather thanremain in ignorance of her destination. It must be a case of givingsome signal. But this evening he had to sing at the theatre, and, therefore, without more ado, he left us, and went to bed again, wherehe stayed until twelve o'clock. Then he went to rehearsal, arriving anhour behind time, at least, a matter which he treated with the coolestindifference. After that he got a pound of small shot, and amusedhimself with throwing a few at a time at the kitchen window from thelittle court at the back of our house, where the well is. It seemed astrangely childish amusement for a great singer. 

Having sung successfully through his opera that night, he had supperwith us, as usual, and then went out. Of course he told me afterwardswhat he did. He went to his old post under the windows of the PalazzoCarmandola, and as soon as all was dark he began to throw small shotup at Hedwig's window. He now profited by his practice in theafternoon, for he made the panes rattle with the little bits of lead, several times. At last he was rewarded. Very slowly the window opened, and Hedwig's voice spoke in a low tone:

"Is it you?"

"Ah, dear one! Can you ask?" began Nino. 

"Hush! I am still locked up. We are going away, --I cannot tell where. "

"When, dearest love?"

"I cannot tell. What _shall_ we do?" very tearfully. "I will followyou immediately; only let me know when and where. "

"If you do not hear by some other means, come here to-morrow night. Ihear steps. Go at once. "

"Good-night, dearest, " he murmured; but the window was already closed, and the fresh breeze that springs up after one o'clock blew from theair the remembrance of the loving speech that had passed upon it. 

On the following night he was at his post, and again threw the shotagainst the pane for a signal. After a long time Hedwig opened thewindow very cautiously. 

"Quick!" she whispered down to him, "go! They are all awake, " and shedropped something heavy and white. Perhaps she added some word, butNino would not tell me, and never would read me the letter. But itcontained the news that Hedwig and her father were to leave Rome forParis on the following morning; and ever since that night Nino hasworn upon his little finger a plain gold ring, --I cannot tell why, andhe says he found it. 

The next day he ascertained from the porter of the Palazzo Carmandolathat the count and contessina, with their servants, had actually leftRome that morning for Paris. From that moment he was sad as death, andwent about his business heavily, being possessed of but one idea, namely, to sign an engagement to sing in Paris as soon as possible. Inthat wicked city the opera continues through Lent, and after somehaggling, in which De Pretis insisted on obtaining for Nino the mostadvantageous terms, the contract was made out and signed. 

I see very well that unless I hurry myself I shall never reach themost important part of this story, which is after all the only partworth telling. I am sure I do not know how I can ever tell it soquickly, but I will do my best, and you must have a little patience;for though I am not old, I am not young, and Nino's departure forParis was a great shock to me, so that I do not like to remember it, and the very thought of it sickens me. If you have ever had anyeducation, you must have seen an experiment in which a mouse is put ina glass jar, and all the air is drawn away with a pump, so that thepoor little beast languishes and rolls pitifully on its side, gaspingand wheezing with its tiny lungs for the least whiff of air. That isjust how I felt when Nino went away. It seemed as though I could notbreathe in the house or in the streets, and the little rooms at homewere so quiet that one might hear a pin fall, and the cat purringthrough the closed doors. Nino left at the beginning of the last tendays of Carnival, when the opera closed, so that it was soon Lent; andeverything is quieter then. 

But before he left us there was noise enough and bustle ofpreparation, and I did not think I should miss him; for he, always wasmaking music, or walking about, or doing something to disturb me justat the very moment when I was most busy with my books. Mariuccia, indeed, would ask me from time to time what I should do when Nino wasgone, as if she could foretell what I was to feel. I suppose she knewI was used to him, after fourteen years of it, and would be inclinedto black humours for want of his voice. But she could not know justwhat Nino is to me, nor how I look on him as my own boy. Thesepeasants are quick-witted and foolish; they guess a great many thingsbetter than I could, and then reason on them like idiots. 

Nino himself was glad to go. I could see his face grow brighter as thetime approached; and though he appeared to be more successful thanever in his singing, I am sure that he cared nothing for the applausehe got, and thought only of singing as well as he could for the loveof it. But when it came to the parting we were left alone. 

"Messer Cornelio, " he said, looking at me affectionately, "I havesomething to say to you to-night before I go away. "

"Speak, then, my dear boy, " I answered, "for no one hears us. "

"You have been very good to me. A father could not have loved mebetter, and such a father as I had could not have done a thousandthpart what you have done for me. I am going out into the world for atime, but my home is here, --or rather, where my home is will always beyours. You have been my father, and I will be your son; and it is timeyou should give up your professorship. No, not that you are at allold; I do not mean that. "

"No, indeed, " said I, "I should think not. "

"It would be much more proper if you retired into an elegant leisure, so that you might write as many books as you desire without wearingyourself out in teaching those students every day. Would you not liketo go back to Serveti?"

"Serveti!--ah, beautiful, lost Serveti, with its castle and goodvine-lands!"

"You shall have it again before long, my father, " he said. He hadnever called me father before, the dear boy! I suppose it was becausehe was going away. But Serveti again? The thing was impossible, and Isaid so. 

"It is not impossible, " he answered, placidly. "Successful singersmake enough money in a year to buy Serveti. A year is soon passed. Butnow let us go to the station, or I shall not be in time for thetrain. "

"God bless you, Nino mio, " I said, as I saw him off. It seemed to methat I saw two or three Ninos. But the train rolled away and tookthem all from me, --the ragged little child who first came to me, thestrong-limbed, dark-eyed boy with his scales and trills andenthusiasm, and the full-grown man with the face like the greatemperor, mightily triumphing in his art and daring in his love. Theywere all gone in a moment, and I was left alone on the platform of thestation, a very sorrowful and weak old man. Well, I will not thinkabout that day. 

The first I heard of Nino was by a letter he wrote me from Paris, afortnight after he had left me. It was characteristic of him, beingfull of eager questions about home and De Pretis and Mariuccia andRome. Two things struck me in his writing. In the first place, he madeno mention of the count or Hedwig, which led me to suppose that he wasrecovering from his passion, as boys do when they travel. Andsecondly, he had so much to say about me that he forgot all about hisengagement, and never even mentioned the theatre. On looking carefullythrough the letter again I found he had written across the top thewords, "Rehearsals satisfactory. " That was all. 

It was not long after the letter came, however, that I was very muchfrightened by receiving a telegram, which must have cost severalfrancs to send all that distance. By this he told me that he had noclue to the whereabouts of the Liras, and he implored me to makeinquiries and discover where they had gone. He added that he hadappeared in _Faust_ successfully. Of course he would succeed. If asinger can please the Romans, he can please anybody. But it seemed tome that if he had received a very especially flattering reception hewould have said so. I went to see De Pretis, whom I found at home overhis dinner. We put our heads together and debated how we mightdiscover the Paris address of the Graf von Lira. In a great city likethat it was no wonder Nino could not find them; but De Pretis hopedthat some of his pupils might be in correspondence with thecontessina, and would be willing to give the requisite directions forreaching her. But days passed, and a letter came from Nino writtenimmediately after sending the telegram, and still we had accomplishednothing. The letter merely amplified the telegraphic message. 

"It is no use, " I said to De Pretis. "And besides, it is much betterthat he should forget all about it. "

"You do not know that boy, " said the maestro, taking snuff. And he wasquite right, as it turned out. 

Suddenly Nino wrote from London. He had made an arrangement, he said, by which he was allowed to sing there for three nights only. The twomanagers had settled it between them, being friends. He wrote verydespondently, saying that although he had been far more fortunate inhis appearances than he had expected, he was in despair at not havingfound the contessina, and had accepted the arrangement which took himto London because he had hopes of finding her there. On the day whichbrought me this letter I had a visitor. Nino had been gone nearly amonth. It was in the afternoon, towards sunset, and I was sitting inthe old green arm-chair watching the goldfinch in his cage, andthinking sadly of the poor dear baroness, and of my boy, and of manythings. The bell rang and Mariuccia brought me a card in her thickfingers which were black from peeling potatoes, so that the mark ofher thumb came off on the white pasteboard. The name on the card was"Baron Ahasuerus Benoni, " and there was no address. I told her to showthe signore into the sitting-room, and he was not long in coming. Iimmediately recognised the man Nino had described, with his unearthlyfreshness of complexion, his eagle nose, and his snow-white hair. Irose to greet him. 

"Signor Grandi, " he said, "I trust you will pardon my intrusion. I ammuch interested in your boy, the great tenor. "

"Sir, " I replied, "the visit of a gentleman is never an intrusion. Permit me to offer you a chair. " He sat down, and crossed one thin legover the other. He was dressed in the height of the fashion; he worepatent-leather shoes, and carried a light ebony cane with a silverhead. His hat was perfectly new, and so smoothly brushed that itreflected a circular image of the objects in the room. But he had acertain dignity that saved his foppery from seeming ridiculous. 

"You are very kind, " he answered. "Perhaps you would like to hear somenews of Signor Cardegna, --your boy, for he is nothing else. "

"Indeed" I said, "I should be very glad. Has he written to you, baron?"

"Oh, no! We are not intimate enough for that. But I ran on to Paristhe other day, and heard him three or four times, and had him tosupper at Bignon's. He is a great genius, your boy, and has won allhearts. "

"That is a compliment of weight from so distinguished a musician asyourself, " I answered; for, as you know, Nino had told me all abouthis playing. Indeed, the description was his, which is the reason whyit is so enthusiastic. 

"Yes, " said Benoni, "I am a great traveller, and often go to Paris fora day or two. I know everyone there. Cardegna had a perfect ovation. All the women sent him flowers, and all the men asked him to dinner. "

"Pardon my curiosity, " I interrupted, "but as you know everyone inParis, could you inform me whether Count von Lira and his daughter arethere at present? He is a retired Prussian officer. " Benoni stretchedout one of his long arms and ran his fingers along the keys of thepiano without striking them. He could just reach so far from where hesat. He gave no sign of intelligence, and I felt sure that Nino hadnot questioned him. 

"I know them very well, " he said, presently, "but I thought they werehere. "

"No, they left suddenly for Paris a month ago. "

"I can very easily find out for you, " said Benoni, his Bright eyesturning on me with a searching look. "I can find out from Lira'sbanker, who is probably also mine. What is the matter with that youngman? He is as sad as Don Quixote. "

"Nino? He is probably in love, " I said, rather indiscreetly. 

"In love? Then of course he is in love with Mademoiselle de Lira, andhas gone to Paris to find her, and cannot. That is why you ask me. " Iwas so much astonished at the quickness of his guesswork that Istared, open-mouthed. 

"He must have told you!" I exclaimed at last. 

"Nothing of the kind. In the course of a long life I have learned toput two and two together, that is all. He is in love, he is your boy, and you are looking for a certain young lady. It is as clear as day. "But in reality he had guessed the secret long before. 

"Very well, " said I, humbly, but doubting him, all the same, "I canonly admire your perspicacity. But I would be greatly obliged if youwould find out where they are, those good people. You seem to be afriend of my boy's, baron. Help him, and he will be grateful to you. It is not such a very terrible thing that a great artist should love anoble's daughter, after all, though I used to think so. " Benonilaughed, that strange laugh which Nino had described, --a laugh thatseemed to belong to another age. 

"You amuse me with your prejudices about nobility, " he said, and hisbrown eyes flashed and twinkled again. "The idea of talking aboutnobility in this age! You might as well talk of the domestic economyof the Garden of Eden. "

"But you are yourself a noble--a baron, " I objected. 

"Oh, I am anything you please, " said Benoni. "Some idiot made a baronof me the other day because I lent him money and he could not pay it. But I have some right to it, after all, for I am a Jew. The only realnobles are Welshmen and Jews. You cannot call anything so ridiculouslyrecent as the European upper classes a nobility. Now I go straightback to the creation of the world, like all my countrymen. TheHibernians get a factitious reputation for antiquity by saying thatEve married an Irishman after Adam died, and that is about as muchclaim as your European nobles have to respectability. Bah! I knowtheir beginnings, very small indeed. "

"You also seem to have strong prejudices on the subject, " said I, notwishing to contradict a guest in my house. 

"So strong that it amounts to having no prejudices at all. Your boywants to marry a noble damosel. In Heaven's name let him do it. Let usmanage it amongst us. Love is a grand thing. I have loved severalwomen all their lives. Do not look surprised. I am a very old man;they have all died, and at present I am not in love with anybody. Isuppose it cannot last long, however. I loved a woman once on atime"--Benoni paused. He seemed to be on the verge of a soliloquy, andhis strange, bright face, which seemed illuminated always with adeathless vitality, became dreamy and looked older. But herecollected himself and rose to go. His eye caught sight of the guitarthat hung on the wall. 

"Ah, " he cried suddenly, "music is better than love, for it lasts; letus make music. " He dropped his hat and stick and seized theinstrument. In an instant it was tuned and he began to perform themost extraordinary feats of agility with his fingers that I everbeheld. Some of it was very beautiful, and some of it very sad andwild, but I understood Nino's enthusiasm. I could have listened to theold guitar in his hands for hours together, --I, who care little formusic; and I watched his face. He stalked about the room with thething in his hands, in a sort of wild frenzy of execution. Hisfeatures grew ashy pale, and his smooth white hair stood out wildlyfrom his head. He looked, then, more than a hundred years old, andthere was a sadness and a horror about him that would have made thestones cry aloud for pity. I could not believe he was the same man. Atlast he was tired, and stopped. 

"You are a great artist, baron, " I said. "Your music seems to affectyou much. "

"Ah, yes, it makes me feel like other men for the time, " said he, in alow voice. "Did you know that Paganini always practised on the guitar?It is true. Well, I will find out about the Liras for you in a day ortwo, before I leave Rome again. "

I thanked him and he took his leave. 

CHAPTER XII

Benoni had made an impression on me that nothing could efface. Histall thin figure and bright eyes got into my dreams and haunted me, sothat I thought my nerves were affected. For several days I could thinkof nothing else, and at last had myself bled, and took some coolingbarley-water, and gave up eating salad at night, but without anyperceptible effect. 

Nino wrote often, and seemed very much excited about the disappearanceof the contessina, but what could I do? I asked everyone I knew, andnobody had heard of them, so that at last I quite gave it over, andwrote to tell him so. A week passed, then a fortnight, and I had heardnothing from Benoni. Nino wrote again, enclosing a letter addressed tothe Contessina di Lira, which he implored me to convey to her, if Iloved him. He said he was certain that she had never left Italy. Someinstinct seemed to tell him so, and she was evidently in neitherLondon nor Paris, for he had made every inquiry, and had even been tothe police about it. Two days after this, Benoni came. He lookedexactly as he did the first time I saw him. 

"I have news, " he said, briefly, and sat down in the arm-chair, striking the dust from his boot with his little cane. 

"News of the Graf?" I inquired. 

"Yes. I have found out something. They never left Italy at all, itseems. I am rather mystified, and I hate mystification. The old man isa fool; all old men are fools, excepting myself. Will you smoke? No?Allow me, then. It is a modern invention, but a very good one. " He lita cigarette. "I wish your Liras were in Tophet, " he continued, presently. "How can people have the bad taste to hide? It only makesingenious persons the more determined to find them. " He seemedtalkative, and as I was so sad and lonely I encouraged him by a littlestimulus of doubt. I wish I had doubted him sooner, and differently. 

"What is the use?" I asked. "We shall never find them. "

"'Never' is a great word, '" said Benoni. "You do not know what itmeans. I do. But as for finding them, you shall see. In the firstplace, I have talked with their banker. He says the count gave thestrictest orders to have his address kept a secret. But, being one ofmy people he allowed himself to make an accidental allusion which gaveme a clue to what I wanted. They are hidden somewhere in themountains. "

"Diavolo! among the brigands: they will not be very well treated, "said I. 

"The old man will be careful. He will keep clear of danger. The onlything is to find them. "

"And what then?" I asked. 

"That depends on the most illustrious Signor Cardegna, " said Benoni, smiling. "He only asked you to find them. He probably did notanticipate that I would help you. "

It did not appear to me that Benoni had helped me much, after all. Youmight as well look for a needle in a haystack as try to find anyonewho goes to the Italian mountains. The baron offered no furtheradvice, and sat calmly smoking and looking at me. I felt uneasy, opposite him. He was a mysterious person, and I thought him disguised. It was really not possible that, with his youthful manner, his hairshould be naturally so white, or that he should be so old as heseemed. I asked him the question we always find it interesting to askforeigners, hoping to lead him into conversation. 

"How do you like our Rome, Baron Benoni?"

"Rome? I loathe and detest it, " he said, with a smile. "There is onlyone place in the whole world that I hate more. "

"What place is that?" I asked, remembering that he had made the sameremark to Nino before. 

"Jerusalem, " he answered, and the smile faded on his face. I thought Iguessed the reason of his dislike in his religious views. But I amvery liberal about those things. 

"I think I understand you, " I said; "you are a Hebrew, and theprevailing form of religion is disagreeable to you. "

"No, it is not exactly that, --and yet, perhaps, it is. " He seemed tobe pondering on the reason of his dislike. 

"But why do you visit these places if they do not please you?"

"I come here because I have so many agreeable acquaintances. I nevergo to Jerusalem. I also come here from time to time to take a bath. The water of the Trevi has a peculiarly rejuvenating effect upon me, and something impels me to bathe in it. "

"Do you mean in the fountain? Ah, foreigners say that if you drink thewater by moonlight you will return to Rome. "

"Foreigners are all weak-minded fools. I like that word. The humanrace ought to be called fools generically, as distinguished from themore intelligent animals. If you went to England you would be as greata fool as any Englishman that comes here and drinks Trevi water bymoonlight. But I assure you I do nothing so vulgar as to patronise thefountain, any more than I would patronise Mazzarino's church, hard by. I go to the source, the spring, the well where it rises. "

"Ah, I know the place well, " I said. "It is near to Serveti. "

"Serveti? Is that not in the vicinity of Horace's villa?"

"You know the country well, I see, " said I, sadly. 

"I know most things, " answered the Jew, with complacency. "You wouldfind it hard to hit upon anything I do not know. Yes, I am a vain man, it is true, but I am very frank and open about it. Look at mycomplexion. Did you ever see anything like it? It is Trevi water thatdoes it. " I thought such excessive vanity very unbecoming in a man ofhis years, but I could not help looking amused. It was so odd to hearthe old fellow descanting on his attractions. He actually took a smallmirror from his pocket and looked at himself in most evidentadmiration. 

"I really believe, " he said at length, pocketing the littlelooking-glass, "that a woman might love me still. What do you say?"

"Doubtless, " I answered politely, although I was beginning to beannoyed, "a woman might love you at first sight. But it would be moredignified for you not to love her. "

"Dignity!" He laughed long and loud, a cutting laugh, like thebreaking of glass. "There is another of your phrases. Excuse myamusement, Signor Grandi, but the idea of dignity always makes mesmile. " He called that thing a smile! "It is in everybody'smouth, --the dignity of the State, the dignity of the king, the dignityof woman, the dignity of father, mother, schoolmaster, soldier. Psh!an apoplexy, as you say, on all the dignities you can enumerate. Thereis more dignity in a poor patient ass toiling along a rough road undera brutal burden that in the entire human race put together, from Adamto myself. The conception of dignity is notional, most entirely. Inever see a poor wretch of a general, or king, or any such animal, adorned in his toggery of dignity without laughing at him, and hisdignity again leads him to suppose that my smile is the result of thepleasurable sensations his experience excites in me. Nature hasdignity at times; some animals have it; but man, never. What manmistakes for it in himself is his vanity, --a vanity much morepernicious than mine, because it deceives its possessor, who is alsowholly possessed by it, and is its slave. I have had a great manyillusions in my life, Signor Grandi. "

"One would say, baron, that you had parted with them. "

"Yes, and that is my chief vanity, --the vanity of vanities which Iprefer to all the others. It is only a man of no imagination who hasno vanity. He cannot imagine himself any better than he is. A creativegenius makes for his own person a 'self' which he thinks he is, ordesires other people to believe him to be. It makes little differencewhether he succeeds or not, so long as he flatters himself he does. Hecomplacently takes all his images from the other animals, or fromnatural objects and phenomena, depicting himself bold as an eagle, brave as a lion, strong as an ox, patient as an ass, vain as apopinjay, talkative as a parrot, wily as a serpent, gentle as a dove, cunning as a fox, surly as a bear; his glance is lightning, his voicethunder, his heart stone, his hands are iron, his conscience a hell, his sinews of steel, and his love like fire. In short, he is likeanything alive or dead, except a man, saving when he is mad. Then heis a fool. Only man can be a fool. It distinguishes him from thehigher animals. "

I cannot describe the unutterable scorn that blazed in his eyes asBenoni poured out the vials of his wrath on the unlucky human race. With my views, we were not likely to agree in this matter. 

"Who are you?" I asked. "What right can you possibly have to abuse usall in such particularly strong terms? Do you ever make proselytes toyour philosophy?"

"No, " said he, answering my last question, and recovering his serenitywith that strange quickness of transition I had remarked when he hadmade music during his previous visit. "No, they all die before I havetaught them anything. "

"That does not surprise me, baron, " said I. He laughed a little. 

"Well, perhaps it would surprise you even less if you knew me better, "he replied. "But really, I came here to talk about Cardegna and not tochatter about that contemptible creature, man, who is not worth amoment's notice, I assure you. I believe I can find these people, andI confess it would amuse me to see the old man's face when we walk inupon him. I must be absent for a few days on business in Austria, andshall return immediately, for I have not taken my bath yet that Ispoke of. Now, if it is agreeable to you, I would propose that we goto the hills, on my return, and prosecute our search together; writingto Nino in the meantime to come here as soon as he has finished hisengagement in Paris. If he comes quickly, he may go with us; if not, he can join us. At all events, we can have a very enjoyable tour amongthe natives, who are charming people, quite like animals, as you oughtto know. "

I think I must be a very suspicious person. Circumstances have made meso, and perhaps my suspicions are very generally wrong. It may be. Atall events I did suspect the rich and dandified old baron of desiringto have a laugh by putting Nino into some absurd situation. He hadsuch strange views, or, at least, he talked so oddly, that I did notbelieve half he said. It is not possible that anybody should seriouslyhold the opinions he professed. 

When he was gone I sat alone, pondering on this situation, which waslike a very difficult problem in a nightmare, that could not or wouldnot look sensible, do what I would. It chanced that I got a letterfrom Nino that evening, and I confess I was reluctant to open it, fearing that he would reproach me with not having taken more pains tohelp him. I felt as though, before opening the envelope, I should liketo go back a fortnight and put forth all my strength to find thecontessina, and gain a comforting sense of duty performed. If I hadonly done my best how easy it would have been to face a whole sheet ofcomplaints! Meanwhile the letter was come, and I had done nothingworth mentioning. I looked at the back of it, and my conscience smoteme; but it had to be accomplished, and at last I tore the cover offand read. 

Poor Nino! He said he was ill with anxiety, and feared it would injurehis voice. He said that to break his engagement and come back toRome would be ruin to him. He must face it out, or take the legalconsequences of a breach of contract, which are overwhelming to ayoung artist. He detailed all the efforts he had made to find Hedwig, pursuing every little sign and clue that seemed to present itself; allto no purpose. The longer he thought of it, the more certain he wasthat Hedwig was not in Paris or London. She might be anywhere else inthe whole world, but she was certainly not in either of those cities. Of that he was convinced. He felt like a man who had pursued abeautiful image to the foot of a precipitous cliff; the rock hadopened and swallowed up his dream, leaving him standing alone inhopeless despair; and a great deal more poetic nonsense of that kind. 

I do not believe I had ever realised what he so truly felt for Hedwiguntil I sat at my table with his letter before me, overcome with thesense of my own weakness in not having effectually checked this madpassion at its rise; or, since it had grown so masterfully, of mywretched procrastination in not having taken my staff in my hand andgone out into the world to find the woman my boy loved and bring herto him. By this time, I thought, I should have found her. I could notbear to think of his being ill, suffering, heart-broken, --ruined, ifhe lost his voice by an illness, --merely because I had not had thestrength to do the best thing for him. Poor Nino, I thought, you shallnever say again that Cornelio Grandi has not done what was in hispower to make you happy. 

"That baron! an apoplexy on him! has illuded me with his promises ofhelp, " I said to myself. "He has no more intention of helping me orNino than he has of carrying off the basilica of St. Peter. Courage, Cornelio! thou must gird up thy loins, and take a little money in thyscrip, and find Hedwig von Lira. "

All that night I lay awake, trying to think how I might accomplishthis end; wondering to which point of the compass I should turn, and, above all, reflecting that I must make great sacrifices. But my boymust have what he wanted, since he was consuming himself, as we say, in longing, for it. It seemed to me no time for counting the cost, when every day might bring upon him a serious illness. If he couldonly know that I was acting, he would allow his spirits to revive andtake courage. 

In the watches of the night I thought over my resources, which, indeed, were meagre enough; for I am a very poor man. It was necessaryto take a great deal of money, for once away from Rome no one couldtell when I might return. My salary as professor is paid to mequarterly, and it was yet some weeks to the time when it was due. Ihad only a few francs remaining, --not more than enough to pay my rentand to feed Mariuccia and me. I had paid at Christmas the lastinstalment due on my vineyard out of Porta Salara, and though I owedno man anything I had no money, and no prospect of any for some time. And yet I could not leave home on a long journey without at least twohundred scudi in my pocket. A scudo is a dollar, and a dollar has fivefrancs, so that I wanted a thousand francs. You see, in spite of thebaron's hint about the mountains, I thought I might have to travel allover Italy before I satisfied Nino. 

A thousand francs is a great deal of money, --it is a Peru, as we say. I had not the first sou toward it. I thought a long time. I wonderedif the old piano were worth anything; whether anybody would give memoney for my manuscripts, the results of patient years of labour andstudy; my old gold scarf pin, my seal ring, and even my silver watch, which keeps really very good time, --what were they worth? But it wouldnot be much, not the tenth part of what I wanted. I was in despair, and I tried to sleep. Then a thought came to me. 

"I am a donkey, " I said. "There is the vineyard itself, --my littlevineyard beyond Porta Salara. It is mine and is worth half as muchagain as I need. " And I slept quietly till morning. 

It is true, and I am sure it is natural, that in the daylight myresolution looked a little differently to me than it did in the quietnight. I had toiled and scraped a great deal more than you know to buythat small piece of land, and it seemed much more my own than allServeti had ever been in my better days. Then I shut myself up in myroom and read Nino's letter over again, though it pained me very much;for I needed courage. And when I had read it, I took some papers in mypocket, and put on my hat and my old cloak, which Nino will never wantany more now for his midnight serenades, and I went out to sell mylittle vineyard. 

"It is for my boy, " I said, to give myself some comfort. 

But it is one thing to want to buy, and it is quite another thing towant to sell. All day I went from one man to another with mypapers, --all the agents who deal in those things; but they only saidthey thought it might be sold in time; it would take many days, andperhaps weeks. 

"But I want to sell it to-day, " I explained. 

"We are very sorry, " said they, with a shrug of the shoulders; andthey showed me the door. 

I was extremely down-hearted, and though I could not sell my piece ofland I spent three sous in buying two cigars to smoke, and I walkedabout the Piazza Colonna in the sun; I would not go home to dinneruntil I had decided what to do. There was only one man I had nottried, and he was the man who had sold it to me. Of course I knewpeople who do this business, for I had had enough trouble to learntheir ways when I had to sell Serveti, years ago. But this one man Ihad not tried yet, because I knew that he would drive a cruel bargainwith me when he saw I wanted the money. But at last I went to him andtold him just what my wishes were. 

"Well, " he said, "it is a very bad time for selling land. But tooblige you, because you are a customer, I will give you eight hundredfrancs for your little place. That is really much more than I canafford. "

"Eight hundred francs!" I exclaimed, in despair. "But I have paid younearly twice as much for it in the last three years! What do you takeme for? To sell such a gem of a vineyard for eight hundred francs? Ifyou offer me thirteen hundred I will discuss the matter with you. "

"I have known you a long time, Signor Grandi, and you are an honestman. I am sure you do not wish to deceive me. I will give you eighthundred and fifty. "

Deceive him, indeed! The very man who had received fifteen hundredfrom me said I deceived him when I asked thirteen hundred for the samepiece of land! But I needed it very much, and so, bargaining andwrangling, I got one thousand and seventy-five francs in bank-notes;and I took care they should all be good ones too. It was a poor price, I know, but I could do no better, and I went home happy. But I darednot tell Mariuccia. She is only my servant, to be sure, but she wouldhave torn me in pieces. 

Then I wrote to the authorities at the university to say that I wasobliged to leave Rome suddenly, and would of course not claim mysalary during my absence. But I added that I hoped they would notpermanently supplant me. If they did I knew I should be ruined. Then Itold Mariuccia that I was going away for some days to the country, andI left her the money to pay the rent, and her wages, and a littlemore, so that she might be provided for if I were detained very long. I went out again and telegraphed to Nino to say I was going at once insearch of the Liras, and begging him to come home as soon as he shouldhave finished his engagement. 

To tell the truth, Mariuccia was very curious to know where I wasgoing, and asked me many questions, which I had some trouble inanswering. But at last it was night again, and the old woman went tobed and left me. Then I went on tiptoe to the kitchen, and found askein of thread and two needles, and set to work. 

I knew the country whither I was going very well, and it was necessaryto hide the money I had in some ingenious way. So I took twowaistcoats--one of them was quite good still, --and I sewed themtogether, and basted the bank-notes between them. It was a clumsypiece of tailoring, though it took me so many hours to do it. But Ihad put the larger waistcoat outside very cunningly, so that when Ihad put on the two, you could not see that there was anything beneaththe outer one. I think I was very clever to do this without a woman tohelp me. Then I looked to my boots, and chose my oldest clothes, --andyou may guess, from what you know of me, how old they were, --and Imade a little bundle that I could carry in my hand, with a change oflinen, and the like. These things I made ready before I went to bed, and I slept with the two waistcoats and the thousand francs under mypillow, though I suppose nobody would have chosen that particularnight for robbing me. 

All these preparations had occupied me so much that I had not foundany time to grieve over my poor little vineyard that I had sold; and, besides, I was thinking all the while of Nino, and how glad he wouldbe to know that I was really searching for Hedwig. But when I thoughtof the vines, it hurt me; and I think it is only long after the deedthat it seems more blessed to give than to receive. 

But at last I slept, as tired folk will, leaving care to the morrow;and when I awoke it was daybreak, and Mariuccia was clattering angrilywith the tin coffee-pot outside. It was a bright morning, and thegoldfinch sang, and I could hear him scattering the millet seed abouthis cage while I dressed. And then the parting grew very near, and Idrank my coffee silently, wondering how soon it would be over, andwishing that the old woman would go out and let me have my housealone. But she would not, and, to my surprise, she made very littleworry or trouble, making a great show of being busy. When I was quiteready she insisted on putting a handful of roasted chestnuts into mypocket, and she said she would pray for me. The fact is, she thought, foolish old creature, as she is, that I was old and in poor health, and she had often teased me to go into the country for a few days, sothat she was not ill pleased that I should seem to take her advice. She stood looking after me as I trudged along the street, with mybundle and my good stick in my right hand, and a lighted cigar in myleft. 

I had made up my mind that I ought first to try the direction hintedat by the baron, since I had absolutely no other clue to thewhereabouts of the Count von Lira and his daughter. I therefore gotinto the old stage that still runs to Palestrina and the neighbouringtowns, for it is almost as quick as going by rail, and much cheaper;and half-an-hour later we rumbled out of the Porta San Lorenzo, and Ihad entered upon the strange journey to find Hedwig von Lira, concerning which frivolous people have laughed so unkindly. And youmay call me a foolish old man if you like. I did it for my boy. 

CHAPTER XIII

I went to Palestrina because all foreigners go there, and are to beheard of from other parts of the mountains in that place. It was along and tiresome journey; the jolting stage-coach shook me very much. There was a stout woman inside, with a baby that squealed; therewas a very dirty old country curate, who looked as though he had notshaved for a week, or changed his collar for a month. But he talkedintelligently, though he talked too much, and he helped to pass thetime until I was weary of him. We jolted along over the dusty roads, and were at least thankful that it was not yet hot. 

In the evening we reached Palestrina, and stopped before the inn inthe market-place, as tired and dusty as might be. The woman went oneway, and the priest the other, and I was left alone. I soon found thefat old host, and engaged a room for the night. He was talkative andcurious, and sat by my side when he had prepared my supper in thedingy dining-room downstairs. I felt quite sure that he would be ableto tell me what I wanted, or at least to give me a hint from hearsay. But he at once began to talk of last year, and how much better hisbusiness had been then than it was now, as country landlordsinvariably do. 

It was to no purpose that I questioned him about the people that hadpassed during the fortnight, the month, the two months back; it wasclear that no one of the importance of my friends had been heard of. At last I was tired, and he lit a wax candle, which he would carefullycharge in the bill afterwards, at double its natural price, and heshowed me the way to my room. It was a very decent little room, withwhite curtains and a good bed and a table, --everything I could desire. A storm had come up since I had been at my supper, and it seemed acomfortable thing to go to bed, although I was disappointed at havinggot no news. 

But when I had blown out my candle, determining to expostulate withthe host in the morning if he attempted to make me pay for a wholeone, I lay thinking of what I should do; and, turning on my side, Iobserved that a narrow crack of the door admitted rays of light intothe darkness of my chamber. Now I am very sensitive to draughts andinclined to take cold, and the idea that there was a door opentroubled me, so that at last I made up my mind to get up and close it. As I rose to my feet, I perceived that it was not the door by which Ihad entered; and so, before shutting it, I called out, supposing theremight be someone in the next room. 

"Excuse me, " I said, loudly, "I will shut this door. " But there was noreply. 

Curiosity is perhaps a vice, but it is a natural one. Instead ofpulling the door to its place, I pushed it a little, knocking withmy knuckles at the same time. But as no one answered, I pushed itfurther, and put in my head. It was a disagreeable thing I saw. 

The room was like mine in every way, save that the bed was moved tothe middle of the open space, and there were two candles on twotables. On the bed lay a dead man. I felt what we call a brivido, --ashiver like an ague. 

It was the body of an old man, with a face like yellow wax, and asingularly unpleasant expression even in death. His emaciated handswere crossed on his breast, and held a small black crucifix. Thecandles stood, one at the head and one at the foot, on little tables. I entered the room and looked long at the dead old man. I thought itstrange that there should be no one to watch him, but I am not afraidof dead men after the first shudder is past. It was a ghastly sightenough, however, and the candles shed a glaring yellowish light overit all. 

"Poor wretch!" I said to myself, and went back to my room, closing thedoor carefully behind me. 

At first I thought of rousing the host, and explaining to him myobjections to being left almost in the same room with a corpse. But Ireflected that it would be foolish to seem afraid of it, when I wasreally not at all timid, and so I went to bed and slept until dawn. But when I went downstairs I found the innkeeper, and gave him a pieceof my mind. 

"What sort of an inn do you keep? What manners are these?" I criedangrily. "What diavolo put into your pumpkin head to give me asepulchre for a room?"

He seemed much disturbed at what I said, and broke out into a thousandapologies. But I was not to be so easily pacified. 

"Do you think, " I demanded, "that I will ever come here again, oradvise any of my friends to come here? It is insufferable. I willwrite to the police--" But at this he began to shed tears and to wringhis hands, saying it was not his fault. 

"You see, signore, it was my wife who made me arrange it so. Oh! thesewomen--the devil has made them all! It was her father--the old deadman you saw. He died yesterday morning--may he rest!--and we willbury him to-day. You see everyone knows that unless a dead man iswatched by someone from another town his soul will not rest in peace. My wife's father was a jettatore; he had the evil eye, and people knewit for miles around, so I could not persuade anyone from the othervillages to sit by him and watch his body, though I sent everywhereall day yesterday. At last that wife of mine--maledictions on herfolly!--said, 'It is my father, after all, and his soul must rest, atany price. If you put a traveller in the next room, and leave the dooropen, it will be the same thing; and so he will be in peace. ' That isthe way it happened, signore, " he continued, after wiping away histears; "you see I could not help it at all. But if you will overlookit, I will not make any charges for your stay. My wife shall pay me. She has poultry by the hundred. I will pay myself with her chickens. "

"Very good, " said I, well pleased at having got so cheap a lodging. "But I am a just man, and I will pay for what I have eaten and drunk, and you can take the night's lodging out of your wife's chickens, asyou say. " So we were both satisfied. [Footnote: This incident actuallyoccurred, precisely as related. ]

The storm of the night had passed away, leaving everything wet and theair cool and fresh. I wrapped my cloak about me and went into themarket-place to see if I could pick up any news. It was already latefor the country, and there were few people about. Here and there, inthe streets, a wine-cart was halting on its way to Rome, while therough carter went through the usual arrangement of exchanging some ofhis employer's wine for food for himself, filling up the barrel withgood pure water that never hurt anyone. I wandered about, though Icould not expect to see any face that I knew; it is so many yearssince I lived at Serveti that even were the carters from my old placeI should have forgotten how they looked. Suddenly, at the corner of adirty street, where there was a little blue and white shrine to theMadonna, I stumbled against a burly fellow with a gray beard carryinga bit of salt codfish in one hand and a cake of corn bread in theother, eating as he went. 

"Gigi!" I cried, in delight, when I recognised the old carrettiere whoused to bring me grapes and wine, and still does when the fancy takeshim. 

"Dio mio! Signor Conte!" he cried, with his mouth full, and holdingup the bread and fish with his two hands, in astonishment. When herecovered himself he instantly offered to share his meal with me, asthe poorest wretch in Italy will offer his crust to the greatestprince, out of politeness. "Vuol favorire?" he said, smiling. 

I thanked him and declined, as you may imagine. Then I asked him howhe came to be in Palestrina; and he told me that he was often there inthe winter, as his sister had married a vine-dresser of the place, of whom he bought wine occasionally. Very well-to-do people, heexplained, eagerly, proud of his prosperous relations. 

We clambered along through the rough street together, and I asked himwhat was the news from Serveti and from that part of the country, well knowing that if he had heard of any rich foreigners in thatneighbourhood he would at once tell me of it. But I had not much hope. He talked about the prospects of the vines, and such things, for sometime, and I listened patiently. 

"By the by, " he said at last, "there is a gran signore who is goneto live in Fillettino, --a crazy man, they say, with a beautifuldaughter, but really beautiful, as an angel. "

I was so much surprised that I made a loud exclamation. 

"What is the matter?" asked Gigi. 

"It is nothing, Gigi, " I answered, for I was afraid lest he shouldbetray my secret, if I let him guess it. "It is nothing. I struck myfoot against a stone. But you were telling about a foreigner who isgone to live somewhere. Fillettino? Where is that?"

"Oh, the place of the diavolo! I do not wonder you do not know, conte, for gentlemen never go there. It is in the Abruzzi, beyond Trevi. Didyou ever hear of the Serra di Sant' Antonio, where so many people havebeen killed?"

"Diana! I should think so! In the old days--"

"Bene, " said Gigi, "Fillettino is there, at the beginning of thepass. "

"Tell me, Gigi mio, " I said, "are you not very thirsty?" The way tothe heart of the wine carter lies through a pint measure. Gigi wasthirsty, as I supposed, and we sat down in the porch of my inn, andthe host brought a stoup of his best wine and set it before us. 

"I would like to hear about the crazy foreigner who is gone to live inthe hills among the brigand, " I said, when he had wet his throat. 

"What I know I will tell you, Signor Conte, " he answered, filling hispipe with bits that he broke off a cigar. "But I know very little. Hemust be a foreigner, because he goes to such a place; and he iscertainly crazy, for he shuts his daughter in the old castle, andwatches her as though she was made of wax, like the flowers you havein Rome under glass. "

"How long have they been there, these queer folks?" I asked. 

"What do I know? It may be a month or two. A man told me, who had comethat way from Fucino, and that is all I know. "

"Do people often travel that way, Gigi?"

"Not often, indeed, " he answered, with a grin. "They are not verycivil, the people of those parts. " Gigi made a gesture, or a series ofgestures. He put up his hands as though firing a gun. Then he openedhis right hand and closed it, with a kind of insinuating twirl of thefingers, which means "to steal. " Lastly he put his hand over his eyes, and looked through his fingers as though they were bars, which means"prison. " From this I inferred that the inhabitants of Fillettino wereaddicted to murder, robbery, and other pastimes, for which theysometimes got into trouble. The place he spoke of is about thirtymiles, or something more, from Palestrina, and I began planning how Ishould get there as cheaply as possible. I had never been there, andwondered what kind of a habitation the count had found; for I knew itmust be the roughest sort of mountain town, with some dilapidatedcastle or other overhanging it. But the count was rich, and he haddoubtless made himself very comfortable. I sat in silence while Gigifinished his wine and chatted about his affairs between the whiffs ofhis pipe. 

"Gigi, " I said at last, "I want to buy a donkey. "

"Eh, your excellency can be accommodated: and a saddle, too, if youwish. "

"I think I could ride without a saddle, " I said, for I thought it aneedless piece of extravagance. 

"Madonna mia!" he cried. "The Signor Conte ride bareback on a donkey!They would laugh at you. But my brother-in-law can sell you a beastthis very day, and for a mere song. "

"Let us go and see the beast, " I said. I felt a little ashamed ofhaving wished to ride without a saddle. But as I had sold all I had, I wanted to make the money last as long as possible; or at least Iwould spend as little as I could, and take something back, if I everwent home at all. We had not far to go, and Gigi opened a door inthe street, and showed me a stable, in which something moved in thedarkness. Presently he led out an animal and began to descant upon itsmerits. 

"Did you ever see a more beautiful donkey?" asked Gigi, admiringly. "It looks like a horse!" It was a little ass, with sad eyes, and earsas long as its tail. It was also very thin, and had the hair rubbedoff its back from carrying burdens. But it had no sore places, and didnot seem lame. 

"He is full of fire, " said Gigi, poking the donkey in the ribs toexcite a show of animation. "You should see him gallop uphill with mybrother on his back, and a good load into the bargain. Brrrr! Standstill, will you!" he cried, holding tight by the halter, though theanimal did not seem anxious to run away. 

"And then, " said Gigi, "he eats nothing, --positively nothing. "

"He does not look as though he had eaten much of late, " I said. 

"Oh, my brother-in-law is as good to him as though he were aChristian. He gives him corn bread and fish, just like his ownchildren. But this ass prefers straw. "

"A frugal ass, " I said, and we began to bargain. I will not tell youwhat I gave Gigi's brother-in-law for the beast, because you wouldlaugh. And I bought an old saddle, too. It was really necessary, butit was a dear bargain, though it was cheaper than hiring; for I soldthe donkey and the saddle again, and got back something. 

It is a wild country enough that lies behind the mountains towards thesources of the Aniene, --the river that makes the falls at Tivoli. You could not half understand how in these times, under the newgovernment, and almost within a long day's ride from Rome, such thingscould take place as I am about to tell you of, unless I explained toyou how very primitive that country is which lies to the south-east ofthe capital, and-which we generally call the Abruzzi. The district iswholly mountainous, and though there are no very great elevationsthere are very ragged gorges and steep precipices, and now and then aninaccessible bit of forest far up among the rocks, which no man hasever thought of cutting down. It would be quite impossible to removethe timber. The people are mostly shepherds in the higher regions, where there are no vines, and when opportunity offers they will waylaythe unwary traveller and rob him, and even murder him, withoutthinking very much about it. In the old days the boundary between thePapal States and the kingdom of Naples ran through these mountains, and the contrabbandieri--the smugglers of all sorts of wares--used tocross from one dominion to the other by circuitous paths and steepways of which only a few had knowledge. The better known of thesepasses were defended by soldiers and police, but there have beenbloody fights fought, within a few years, between the law and itsbreakers. Foreigners never penetrate into the recesses of these hills, and even the English guide-books, which are said to contain an accountof everything that the Buon Dio ever made, compiled from notes takenat the time of the creation, make no mention of places which surpassin beauty all the rest of Italy put together. 

No railroad or other modern innovation penetrates into those Arcadianregions, where the goatherd plays upon his pipe all the day long, the picture of peace and innocence, or prowls in the passes with amurderous long gun, if there are foreigners in the air. The women toilat carrying their scant supply of drinking-water from great distancesduring a part of the day, and in the evening they spin industriouslyby their firesides or upon their doorsteps, as the season will haveit. It is an old life, the same to-day as a thousand years ago, andperhaps as it will be a thousand years hence. The men are greattravellers, and go to Rome in the winter to sell their cheese, or tomilk a flock of goats in the street at daybreak, selling the foamingcanful for a son. But their visits to the city do not civilise them;the outing only broadens the horizon of their views in regard toforeigners, and makes them more ambitious to secure one, and see whathe is like, and cut off his ears, and get his money. Do not supposethat the shepherd of the Abruzzi lies all day on the rocks in the sun, waiting for the foreign gentleman to come within reach. He might waita long time. Climbing has strengthened the muscles of his legs into somuch steel, and a party of herdsmen have been known to come down fromthe Serra to the plains around Velletri, and to return to theirinaccessible mountains, after doing daring deeds of violence, intwenty-four hours from the time of starting, covering at least fromeighty to ninety miles by the way. They are extraordinary fellows, asactive as tigers, and fabulously strong, though they are never verybig. 

This country begins behind the range of Sabine mountains seen fromRome across the Campagna, and the wild character of it increases asyou go towards the south-east. 

Since I have told you this much I need not weary you with furtherdescriptions. I do not like descriptions, and it is only when Ninogives me his impressions that I write them, in order that you mayknow how beautiful things impress him, and the better judge of hischaracter. 

I do not think that Gigi really cheated me so very badly about thedonkey. Of course I do not believe the story of his carrying thebrother-in-law and the heavy load uphill at a gallop; but I am thinand not very heavy, and the little ass carried me well enough throughthe valleys, and when we came to a steep place I would get off andwalk, so as not to tire him too much. If he liked to crop a thistle ora blade of grass, I would stop a moment, for I thought he would growfatter in that way, and I should not lose so much when I sold himagain. But he never grew very fat. 

Twice I slept by the way before I reached the end of my journey, --onceat Olevano and once at Trevi; for the road from Olevano to Trevi islong, and some parts are very rough, especially at first. I could tellyou just how every stone on the road looks--Rojate, the narrow passbeyond, and then the long valley with the vines; then the road turnsaway and rises as you go along the plateau of Arcinazzo, which ishollow beneath, and you can hear the echoes as you tread; then at theend of that the desperate old inn, called by the shepherds the Madredei Briganti, --the mother of brigands, --smoke-blackened within andwithout, standing alone on the desolate heath; farther on, a broadbend of the valley to the left, and you see Trevi rising before you, crowned with an ancient castle, and overlooking the stream thatbecomes the Aniene afterwards; from Trevi through a rising valleythat grows narrower at every step, and finally seems to end abruptly, as indeed it does, in a dense forest far up the pass. And just belowthe woods lies the town of Fillettino, where the road ends; for thereis a road which leads to Tivoli, but does not communicate withOlevano, whence I had come. 

Of course I had made an occasional inquiry by the way, when I could doso without making people too curious. When anyone asked me where I wasgoing, I would say I was bound for Fucino, to buy beans for seed atthe wonderful model farm that Torlonia has made by draining the oldlake. And then I would ask about the road; and sometimes I was toldthere was a strange foreigner at Fillettino, who made everybody wonderabout him by his peculiar mode of life. Therefore, when I at last sawthe town, I was quite sure that the count was there, and I got off mylittle donkey, and let him drink in the stream, while I myself drank alittle higher up. The road was dusty, and my donkey and I werethirsty. 

I thought of all I would do, as I sat on the stone by the waterand the beast cropped the wretched grass, and soon I came to theconclusion that I did not know in the least what I should do. I hadunexpectedly found what I wanted, very soon, and I was thankful enoughto have been so lucky. But I had not the first conception of whatcourse I was to pursue when once I had made sure of the count. Besides, it was barely possible that it was not he, after all, butanother foreigner, with another daughter. The thought frightened me, but I drove it away. If it were really old Lira who had chosen thisretreat in which to imprison his daughter and himself, I asked myselfwhether I could do anything save send word to Nino as soon aspossible. 

I felt like a sort of Don Quixote, suddenly chilled into the prosaicrequirements of common sense. Perhaps if Hedwig had been my Dulcinea, instead of Nino's, the crazy fit would have lasted, and I would haveattempted to scale the castle wall and carry off the prize by force. There is no telling what a sober old professor of philosophy may notdo when he is crazy. But meanwhile I was sane. Graf von Lira had aright to live anywhere he pleased with his daughter, and the fact thatI had discovered the spot where he pleased to live did not constitutean introduction. Or finally, if I got access to the old count, whathad I to say to him? Ought I to make a formal request for Nino? Ilooked at my old clothes and almost smiled. 

But the weather was cold, though the roads were dusty; so I mounted myass and jogged along, meditating deeply. 

CHAPTER XIV

Fillettino is a trifle cleaner than most towns of the same kind. Perhaps it rains more often, and there are fewer people. Consideringthat its vicinity has been the scene of robbery, murder, and allmanner of adventurous crime from time immemorial, I had expected tofind it a villainous place. It is nothing of the kind. There is adecent appearance about it that is surprising; and though the housesare old and brown and poor, I did not see pigs in many rooms, nor didthe little children beg of me, as they beg of everyone elsewhere. Theabsence of the pigs struck me particularly, for in the Sabine townsthey live in common with the family, and go out only in the daytime topick up what they can get. 

I went to the apothecary--there is always an apothecary in theseplaces--and inquired for a lodging. Before very long I had secured aroom, and it seemed that the people were accustomed to travellers, forit was surprisingly clean. The bed was so high that I could touch theceiling when I sat on it, and the walls were covered with ornaments, such as glazed earthenware saints, each with a little basin for holywater, some old engravings of other saints, a few paper roses from thelast fair, and a weather-beaten game-pouch of leather. The windowlooked out over a kind of square, where a great quantity of water raninto a row of masonry tanks out of a number of iron pipes projectingfrom an overhanging rock. Above the rock was the castle, the place Ihad come to see, towering up against the darkening sky. 

It is such a strange place that I ought to describe it to you, or youwill not understand the things that happened there. There is a greatrock, as I said, rising above the town, and upon this is built thefeudal stronghold, so that the walls of the building do not begin lessthan forty feet from the street level. The height of the whole castleconsequently seems enormous. The walls, for the most part, follow thelines of the gray rock, irregularly, as chance would have it, and theresult is a three-cornered pile, having a high square tower at oneangle, where also the building recedes some yards from the edge ofthe cliff, leaving on that side a broad terrace guarded by a stoneparapet. On another side of the great isolated boulder a narrowroadway heads up a steep incline, impracticable for carriages butpassable for four-footed beasts; and this path gives access to thecastle through a heavy gate opening upon a small court within. But therock itself has been turned to account, and there are chambers withinit which formerly served as prisons, opening to the right and left ofa narrow staircase, hewn out of the stone, and leading from the footof the tower to the street below, upon which it opens through a lowsquare door, set in the rock and studded with heavy iron rails. 

Below the castle hangs the town, and behind it rises the valley, thickly wooded with giant beech-trees. Of course I learned the detailsof the interior little by little, and I gathered also some interestingfacts regarding the history of Fillettino, which are not in any waynecessary to my story. The first thing I did was to find out whatmeans of communication there were with Rome. There was a postalservice twice a week, and I was told that Count von Lira, whose namewas no secret in the village, sent messengers very often to Subiaco. The post left that very day, and I wrote to Nino to tell him that Ihad found his friends in villeggiatura at Fillettino, advising him tocome as soon as he could, and recruit his health and his spirits. 

I learned, further, from the woman who rented me my lodging, thatthere were other people in the castle besides the count and hisdaughter. At least, she had seen a tall gentleman on the terrace withthem during the last two days; and it was not true that the count keptHedwig a prisoner. On the contrary, they rode out together almostevery day, and yesterday the tall gentleman had gone with them. Thewoman also went into many details; telling me how much money the counthad spent in a fortnight, bringing furniture and a real piano andimmense loads of baskets, which the porters were told contained glassand crockery, and must be carefully handled. It was clear that thecount was settled for some time. He had probably taken the old placefor a year, by a lease from the Roman family to whom Fillettino andthe neighbouring estates belong. He would spend the spring and thesummer there, at least. 

Being anxious to see who the tall gentleman might be, of whom mylandlady had spoken, I posted myself in the street, at the foot of theinclined bridle-path, leading to the castle gate. I walked up and downfor two hours, about the time I supposed they would all ride, hopingto catch a glimpse of the party. Neither the count nor his daughterknew me by sight, I was sure, and I felt quite safe. It was a longtime to wait, but at last they appeared, and I confess that I nearlyfell down against the wall when I saw them. 

There they were on their horses, moving cautiously down the narrowway above me. First came the count, sitting in his saddle as thoughhe were at the head of his old regiment, his great gray moustachesstanding out fiercely from his severe wooden face. Then came Hedwig, whom I had not seen for a long time, looking as white and sorrowfulas the angel of death, in a close black dress, or habit, so that hergolden hair was all the colour there was to be seen about her. 

But the third rider, --there was no mistaking that thin, erect figure, dressed in the affectation of youth; those fresh pink cheeks, with thesnowy moustache, and the thick white hair showing beneath the jauntyhat; the eagle nose and the bright eyes. Baron Benoni, and no other. 

My first instinct was to hide myself; but before I could retreatBenoni recognised me, even with my old clothes. Perhaps they are notso much older than the others, compared with his fashionable garments. He made no sign as the three rode by; only I could see by his eyes, that were fixed angrily upon me, that he knew me, and did not wish toshow it. As for myself I stood stock still in amazement. 

I had supposed that Benoni had really gone to Austria, as he had toldme he was about to do. I had thought him ignorant of the count'sretreat, save for the hint which had so luckily led me straight to themark. I had imagined him to be but a chance acquaintance of the Lirafamily, having little or no personal interest in their doings. Nevertheless, I had suspected him, as I have told you. Everythingpointed to a deception on his part. He had evidently gone immediatelyfrom Rome to Fillettino. He must be intimate with the count, or thelatter would not have invited him to share a retreat seeminglyintended to be kept a secret. He also, I thought, must have some verystrong reason for consenting to bury himself in the mountains incompany with a father and daughter who could hardly be supposed to beon good terms with each other. 

But again, why had he seemed so ready to help me and to forwardNino's suit? Why had he given me the smallest clue to the count'swhereabouts? Now I am not a strong man in action, but I am a verycunning reasoner. I remembered the man, and the outrageous opinionshe had expressed, both to Nino and to me. Then I understood mysuspicions. It would be folly to expect such a man to have any realsympathy or sense of friendship for anyone. He had amused himself bypromising to come back and go with me on my search, perhaps to make alaughing-stock of me, or even of my boy, by telling the story to theLiras afterwards. He had entertained no idea that I would go alone, orthat, if I went, I could be successful. He had made a mistake, and wasvery angry; his eyes told me that. Then I made a bold resolution. Iwould see him and ask him what he intended to do; in short, why he haddeceived me. 

There would probably be no difficulty in the way of obtaining aninterview, I was not known to the others of the party, and Benoniwould scarcely refuse to receive me. I thought he would excusehimself, with ready cynicism, and pretend to continue his offers offriendship and assistance. I confess I regretted that I was so humblyclad, in all my old clothes; but after all, I was travelling, youknow. 

It was a bold resolution, I think, and I revolved the situation in mymind during two days, thinking over what I should say. But with all mythought I only found that everything must depend on Benoni's answer tomy own question--"Why?"

On the third day, I made myself look as fine as I could, and though myheart beat loudly as I mounted the bridle-path, I put on a bold lookand rang the bell. It was a clanging thing, that seemed to creak on ahinge, as I pulled the stout string from outside. A man appeared, andon my inquiry said I might wait in the porch behind the great woodengate, while he delivered my message to his excellency the baron. Itseemed to take a long time, and I sat on a stone bench, eying thecourtyard curiously from beneath the archway. It was sunny and clean, with an old well in the middle, but I could see nothing save a fewwindows opening upon it. At last the man returned and said that Imight come with him. 

I found Benoni, clad in a gorgeous dressing-gown, stalking up and downa large vaulted apartment, in which there were a few new arm-chairs, atable covered with books, and a quantity of ancient furniture thatlooked unsteady and fragile, although it had been carefully dusted. Aplain green baize carpet covered about half the floor, and theremainder was of red brick. The morning sun streamed in through tallwindows, and played in a rainbow-like effulgence on the baron'smany-coloured dressing-gown, as he paused in his walk to greet me. 

"Well, my friend, " said Benoni, gaily, "how in the name of the devildid you get here?" I thought I had been right; he was going to play atbeing my friend again. 

"Very easily, by the help of your little hint, " I replied, and Iseated myself, for I felt that I was master of the situation. 

"Ah, if I had suspected you of being so intelligent, I would not havegiven you any hint at all. You see I have not been to Austria onbusiness, but am here in this good old flesh of mine, such as it is. "

"Consequently--" I began, and then stopped. I suddenly felt thatBenoni had turned the tables upon me, I could not tell how. 

"Consequently, " said he, continuing my sentence, "when I told you thatI was going to Austria I was lying. "

"The frankness of the statement obliges me to believe that you are nowtelling the truth, " I answered, angrily. I felt uneasy. Benoni laughedin his peculiar way. 

"Precisely, " he continued again, "I was lying. I generally do, for solong as I am believed I deceive people; and when they find me out, they are confused between truth and lying, so that they do not knowwhat to believe at all. By the by, I am wandering, I am sorry to seeyou here. I hope you understand that. " He looked at me with the mostcheerful expression. I believe I was beginning to be angry at hisinsulting calmness. I did not answer him. 

"Signor Grandi, " he said in a moment, seeing I was silent, "I amenchanted to see you, if you prefer that I should be. But may Iimagine if I can do anything more for you, now that you have heardfrom my own lips that I am a liar? I say it again, --I like theword, --I am a liar, and I wish I were a better one. What can I do foryou?"

"Tell me why you have acted this comedy, " said I, recollecting at theright moment the gist of my reflections during the past two days. 

"Why? To please myself, good sir; for the sovereign; pleasure ofmyself. "

"I would surmise, " I retorted tartly, "that it could not have been forthe pleasure of anyone else. "

"Perhaps you mean, because no one else could be base enough to takepleasure in what amuses me?" I nodded savagely at his question. "Verygood. Knowing this of me, do you further surmise that I should be sosimple as to tell you how I propose to amuse myself in the future?"I recognised the truth of this, and I saw myself checkmated at theoutset. I therefore smiled, and endeavoured to seem completelysatisfied, hoping that his vanity would betray him into some hint ofthe future. He seemed to have before taken pleasure in misleading mewith a fragment of truth, supposing that I could not make use of it. I would endeavour to lead him into such a trap again. 

"It is a beautiful country, is it not?" I remarked, going to thewindow before which he stood, and looking out. "You must enjoy itgreatly, after the turmoil of society. " You see, I was once as gay asany of them, in the old days; and so I made the reflection that seemednatural to his case, wondering how he would answer. 

"It is indeed a very passable landscape, " he said, indifferently. "With horses and a charming companion one may kill a little time here, and find a satisfaction in killing it. " I noticed the slip, by whichhe spoke of a single companion instead of two. 

"Yes, " I replied, "the count is said to be a most agreeable man. "

He paused a moment, and the hesitation seemed to show that the countwas not the companion he had in his mind. 

"Oh, certainly, " he said at length, "the count is very agreeable, andhis daughter is the paragon of all the virtues and accomplishments. "There was something a little disparaging in his tone as he made thelast remark, which seemed to me a clumsy device to throw me off thescent, if scent there were. Considering his surpassing personalvanity, of which I had received an ocular demonstration when hevisited me in Rome, I fancied that if there were nothing more seriousin his thoughts he would have given me to understand that Hedwig foundhim entirely irresistible. Since he was able to control his vanity, there must be a reason for it. 

"I should think that the contessina must be charmed at having sobrilliant a companion as yourself in her solitude, " I said, feeling myway to the point. 

"With me? I am an old man. Children of that age detest old men. " Ithought his manner constrained, and it was unlike him not to laugh ashe made the speech. The conviction grew upon me that Hedwig was theobject of his visit. Moreover, I became persuaded that he was but apoor sort of villain, for he was impulsive, as villains should neverbe. We leaned over the stone sill of the window, which he had openedduring the conversation. There was a little trail of ants climbing upand down the wall at the side, and he watched them. One of the smallcreatures, heavily laden with a seed of some sort, and toilingpainfully under the burden, had been separated from the rest, andclambered over the edge of the window-sill. On reaching the levelsurface it paused, as though very weary, and looked about, moving itstiny horns. Benoni looked at it a moment, and then with one finger hesuddenly whisked the poor little thing into space. It hurt me to seeit, and I knew he must be cruel, for he laughed aloud. Somehow itwould have seemed less cruel to have brushed away the whole trail ofinsects, rather than to pitch upon this one small tired workman, overladen and forgotten by the rest. 

"Why did you do that?" I asked involuntarily. 

"Why? Why do I do anything? Because I please, the best of allreasons. "

"Of course; it was foolish of me to ask you. That is probably thecause of your presence here. You would like to hurl my boy Nino fromthe height he has reached in his love, and to satisfy your cruelinstincts you have come here to attack the heart of an innocent girl. "I watched him narrowly, and I have often wondered how I had thecourage to insult him. It was a bold shot at the truth, and his looksatisfied me that I was not very wide of the mark. To accuse agray-haired old man of attempting to win the affections of a younggirl would seem absurd enough. But if you had ever seen Benoni, youwould understand that he was anything but old, save for his snowylocks. Many a boy might envy the strange activity of his thin limbs, the bloom and freshness of his eager face, and the fire of his eyes. He was impulsive, too; for instead of laughing at the absurdity ofthe thing, or at what should have been its absurdity, as a moreaccomplished villain would have done, he was palpably angry. He lookedquickly at me and moved savagely, so that I drew back, and it was nottill some moments later that it occurred to him that he ought to seemamused. 

"How ridiculous!" he cried at last, mastering his anger. "You arejoking. "

"Oh, of course I am joking, " I answered, leaving the window. "And nowI must wish you good-morning, with many apologies for my intrusion. "He must have been glad to be rid of me, but he politely insisted onshowing me to the gate. Perhaps he wanted to be sure that I should notask questions of the servants. As we passed through an outer hall wecame suddenly upon Hedwig entering from the opposite direction, dressed in black, and looking like a beautiful shadow of pain. As Ihave told you, she did not know me. Benoni bowed to the ground as shewent by, making some flattering speech about her appearance. She hadstarted slightly on first seeing us, and then she went on withoutspeaking; but there was on her face a look of such sovereign scorn andloathing as I never saw on the features of any living being. And morethan scorn, for there was fear and hatred with it: so that if a glancecould tell a whole history, there would have been no detail of herfeeling for Benoni left to guess. 

This meeting produced a profound impression on me, and I saw her facein my dreams that night. Had anything been wanting to complete, in myjudgment, the plan of the situation in the castle, that something wasnow supplied. The Jew had come there to get her for himself. She hatedhim for his own sake; she hated him because she was faithful to Nino;she hated him because he perhaps knew of her secret love for my boy. Poor maiden, shut up for days and weeks to come with a man she dreadedand scorned at once! The sight of her recalled to me that I had in mypocket the letter Nino had sent me for her, weeks before, and which Ihad found no means of delivering since I had been in Fillettino. Suddenly I was seized with a mad determination to deliver it at anycost. The baron bowed me out of the gate, and I paused outside whenthe ponderous door had swung on its hinges and his footsteps wereechoing back through the court. 

I sat down on the parapet of the bridle-path, and with my knife cutsome of the stitches that sewed my money between my two waistcoats. Itook out one of the bills of a hundred francs that were concealedwithin, I found the letter Nino had sent me for Hedwig, and I oncemore rang the bell. The man who had admitted me came again, and lookedat me in some astonishment. But I gave him no time to question me. 

"Here is a note for a hundred francs, " I said. "Take it, and give thisletter to the Signora Contessina. If you bring me a written answerhere to-morrow at this hour I will give you as much more. " The man wasdumfounded for a moment, after which he clutched the money and theletter greedily, and hid them in his coat. 

"Your excellency shall be punctually obeyed, " he said, with a deepbow, and I went away. 

It was recklessly extravagant of me to do this, but there was no othercourse. A small bribe would have been worse than none at all. If youcan afford to pay largely it is better to bribe a servant than totrust a friend. Your friend has nothing to gain by keeping yoursecret, whereas the servant hopes for more money in the future, andthe prospect of profit makes him as silent as the grave. 

I would certainly not have acted as I did had I not met Hedwig in thehall. But the sight of her pale face and heavy eyes went to my heart, and I would have given the whole of my little fortune to bring somegladness to her, even though I might not see it. The situation, too, was so novel and alarming that I felt obliged to act quickly, notknowing what evils delay might produce. 

On the following morning I went up to the gateway again and rang thebell. The same man appeared. He slipped a note into my hand, and Islipped a bill into his. But, to my surprise, he did not shut the doorand retire. 

"The signorina said your excellency should read the note, and Ishould accompany you, " he said; and I saw he had his hat in his handas if ready to go. I tore open the note. It merely said that theservant was trustworthy, and would "instruct the Signor Grandi" how toact. 

"You told the contessina my name, then?" I said to the man. He hadannounced me to the baron, and consequently knew who I was. He nodded, closed the door behind him, and came with me. When we were in thestreet he explained that Hedwig desired to speak with me. He expoundedthe fact that there was a staircase in the rock, leading to the levelof the town. Furthermore, he said that the old count and the baronoccasionally drank deeply, as soldiers and adventurers will do, topass the evening. The next time it occurred he, the faithful servant, would come to my lodging and conduct me into the castle by theaforesaid passage, of which he had the key. 

I confess I was unpleasantly alarmed at the prospect of making aburglarious entrance in such romantic fashion. It savoured more of thelast century than of the quiet and eminently respectable age in whichwe live. But then, the castle of Fillettino was built hundreds ofyears ago, and it is not my fault if it has not gone to ruin, like somany others of its kind. The man recommended me to be always at homeafter eight o'clock in the evening in case I were wanted, and to avoidseeing the baron when he was abroad. He came and saw where I lived, and with many bows he left me. 

You may imagine in what anxiety I passed my time. A whole weekelapsed, and yet I was never summoned. Every evening at seven, an hourbefore the time named, I was in my room waiting for someone who nevercame. I was so much disturbed in mind that I lost my appetite andthought of being bled again. But I thought it too soon, and contentedmyself with getting a little tamarind from the apothecary. 

One morning the apothecary, who is also the postmaster, gave me aletter from Nino, dated in Rome. His engagement was over, he hadreached Rome, and he would join me immediately. 

CHAPTER XV

As it often happens that, in affairs of importance, the minor eventswhich lead to the ultimate result seem to occur rapidly, and almost tostumble over each other in their haste, it came to pass that on thevery evening after I had got Nino's letter I was sent for by thecontessina. 

When the man came to call me I was sitting in my room, from force ofhabit, though the long delay had made the possibility of the meetingseem shadowy. I was hoping that Nino might arrive in time to go in myplace, for I knew that he would not be many hours behind his letter. He would assuredly travel as fast as he could, and if he hadunderstood my directions he was not likely to go astray. But in spiteof my hopes the summons came too soon, and I was obliged to go myself. 

Picture to yourselves how I looked and how I felt: a sober oldprofessor, as I am, stealing out in the night, all wrapped in a cloakas dark and shabby as any conspirator's; armed with a good knife incase of accidents; with beating heart, and doubting whether I coulduse my weapon if needful; and guided to the place of tryst by theconfidential servant of a beautiful and unhappy maiden. I have oftenlaughed since then at the figure I must have cut, but I did not laughat the time. It was a very serious affair. 

We skirted the base of the huge rock on which the castle is built, andreached the small, low door without meeting anyone. It was a moonlitnight, --the Paschal moon was nearly at the full, --and the whitenessmade each separate iron rivet in the door stand out distinct, throwninto relief by its own small shadow on the seamed oak. My guideproduced a ponderous key, which screamed hoarsely in the lock underthe pressure of his two hands, as he made it turn in the rusty wards. The noise frightened me, but the man laughed, and said they could nothear where they sat, far up in the vaulted chamber, telling longstories over their wine. We entered, and I had to mount a little wayup the dark steps to give him room to close the door behind us, bywhich we were left in total darkness. I confess I was very nervous andfrightened until he lighted a taper which he had brought and madeenough light to show the way. The stairs were winding and steep, butperfectly dry, and when he had passed me I followed him, feeling thatat all events the door behind was closed, and there was someonebetween me and any danger ahead. 

The man paused in front of me, and when I had rounded the corner ofthe winding steps I saw that a brighter light than ours shone from asmall doorway opening directly upon the stair. In another moment I wasin the presence of Hedwig von Lira. The man retired and left us. 

She stood, dressed in black, against the rough stone; the strong lightof a gorgeous gilt lamp that was placed on the floor streamed upwardon her white face. Her eyes caught the brightness, and seemed to burnlike deep, dark gems, though they appeared so blue in the day. Shelooked like a person tortured past endurance, so that the pain ofthe soul has taken shape, and the agony of the heart has assumedsubstance. Tears shed had hollowed the marble cheeks, and the strongersuffering that cannot weep had chiselled out great shadows beneath herbrows. Her thin clasped hands seemed wringing each other into strangeshapes of woe; and though she stood erect as a slender pillar againstthe black rock, it was rather from the courage of despair than becauseshe was straight and tall by her own nature. 

I bent low before her, awed by the extremity of suffering I saw. 

"Are you Signor Grandi?" she asked, in a low and trembling voice. 

"Most humbly at your service, Signora Contessina, " I answered. She putout her hand to me, and then drew it back quickly, with a timidnervous look as I moved to take it. 

"I never saw you, " she said, "but I feel as though you _must_ be afriend--" She paused. 

"Indeed, signorina, I am here for that reason, " said I, trying tospeak stoutly, and so to inspire her with some courage. "Tell me how Ican best serve you; and though I am not young and strong like NinoCardegna, my boy, I am not so old but that I can do whatsoever youcommand. "

"Then in God's name, save me from this--" But again the sentence diedupon her lips, and she glanced anxiously at the door. I reflected thatif anyone came we should be caught like mice in a trap, and I made asthough I would look out upon the stairs. But she stopped me. 

"I am foolishly frightened, " she said. "That man is faithful, andwill keep watch. " I thought it time to discover her wishes. 

"Signorina, " said I, "you ask me to save you. You do not say fromwhat. I can at least tell you that Nino Cardegna will be here in a dayor two--" At this sudden news she gave a little cry, and the bloodrushed to her cheeks, in strange contrast with their deathlywhiteness. She seemed on the point of speaking, but checked herself, and her eyes, that had looked me through and through a moment before, drooped modestly under my glance. 

"Is it possible?" she said at last, in a changed voice. "Yes, if hecomes, I think the Signor Cardegna will help me. "

"Madam, " I said, very courteously, for I guessed her embarrassment, "I can assure you that my boy is ready to give you his life in returnfor the kindness he received at your hands in Rome. " She looked up, smiling through her tears, for the sudden happiness had moistened thedrooping lids. 

"You are very kind, Signor Grandi. Signor Cardegna is, I believe, agood friend of mine. You say he will be here?"

"I received a letter from him to-day, dated in Rome, in which he tellsme that he will start immediately. He may be here to-morrow morning, "I answered. Hedwig had regained her composure, perhaps because shewas reassured by my manner of speaking about Nino. I, however, wasanxious to hear from her own lips some confirmation of my suspicionsconcerning the baron. "I have no doubt, " I continued presently, "that, with your consent, my boy will be able to deliver you from thisprison--" I used the word at a venture. Had Hedwig suffered less, andbeen less cruelly tormented, she would have rebuked me for theexpression. But I recalled her to her position, and her self-controlgave way at once. 

"Oh, you are right to call it a prison!" she cried. "It is as much aprison as this chamber hewed out of the rock, where so many a wretchhas languished hopelessly; a prison from which I am daily taken outinto the sweet sun, to breathe and be kept alive, and to taste howjoyful a thing liberty must be! And every day I am brought back, andtold that I may be free if I will consent. Consent! God of mercy!" shemoaned, in a sudden tempest of passionate despair. "Consent ever tobelong, body--and soul--to be touched, polluted, desecrated, by thatinhuman monster; sold to him, to a creature without pity, whose heartis a toad, a venomous creeping thing--sold to him for this life, andto the vengeance of God hereafter; bartered, traded, and told that Iam so vile and lost that the very price I am offered is an honour tome, being so much more than my value. " She came toward me as shespoke, and the passionate, unshed tears that were in her seemed tochoke her, so that her voice was hoarse. 

"And for what--for what?" she cried, wildly, seizing my arm andlooking fiercely into my eyes. "For what, I say? Because I gave him apoor rose; because I let him see me once; because I loved his sweetvoice; because--because--I love him, and will love him, and do lovehim, though I die!"

The girl was in a frenzy of passion and love and hate all together, and did not count her words. The white heat of her tormented soulblazed from her pale face and illuminated every feature, though shewas turned from the light, and she shook my arm in her grasp so thatit pained me. The marble was burnt in the fire, and must consumeitself to ashes. The white and calm statue was become a pillar offlame in the life-and-death struggle for love. I strove to speak, butcould not, for fear and wonder tied my tongue. And indeed she gave meshort time to think. 

"I tell you I love him, as he loves me, " she continued, her voicetrembling upon the rising cadence, "with all my whole being. Tell himso. Tell him he must save me, and that only he can: that for his sakeI am tortured, and scorned, and disgraced, and sold; my body thrown todogs, and worse than dogs; my soul given over to devils that tempt meto kill and be free, --by my own father, for his sake. Tell him thatthese hands he kissed are wasted with wringing small pains from eachother, but the greater pain drives them to do worse. Tell him, goodsir, --you are kind and love him, but not as I do, --tell him that thisgolden hair of mine has streaks of white in these terrible two months;that these eyes he loved are worn with weeping. Tell him--"

But her voice failed her, and she staggered against the wall, hidingher face in her hands. A trembling breath, a struggle, a great wildsob: the long-sealed tears were free, and flowed fast over her hands. 

"Oh, no, no, " she moaned, "you must not tell him that. " Then chokingdown her agony she turned to me: "You will not--you cannot tell him ofthis? I am weak, ill, but I will bear everything for--for him. " Thegreat effort exhausted her, and I think that if I had not caught hershe would have fallen, and she would have hurt herself very much onthe stone floor. But she is young, and I am not very strong, and couldnot have held her up. So I knelt, letting her weight come on myshoulder. 

The fair head rested pathetically against my old coat, and I tried towipe away her tears with her long golden hair; for I had not anyhandkerchief. But very soon I could not see to do it. I was cryingmyself, for the pity of it all, and my tears trickled down and fell onher thin hands. And so I kneeled, and she half lay and half sat uponthe floor, with her head resting on my shoulder; I was glad then to beold, for I felt that I had a right to comfort her. 

Presently she looked up into my face, and saw that I was weeping. Shedid not speak, but found her little lace handkerchief, and pressed itto my eyes, --first to one, and then to the other; and the actionbrought a faint maidenly flush to her cheeks through all her ownsorrow. A daughter could not have done it more kindly. 

"My child, " I said at last, "be sure that your secret is safe in me. But there is one coming with whom it will be safer. "

"You are so good, " she said, and her head sank once more, and nestledagainst my breast, so that I could just see the bright tresses throughmy gray beard. But in a moment she looked up again, and made as thoughshe would rise; and then I helped her, and we both stood on our feet. 

Poor, beautiful, tormented Hedwig! I can remember it, and call up thewhole picture to my mind. She still leaned on my arm, and looked up tome, her loosened hair all falling back upon her shoulders; and thewonderful lines of her delicate face seemed made ethereal and angelicby her sufferings. 

"My dear, " I said at last, smoothing her golden hair with my hand, asI thought her mother would do, if she had a mother, --"my dear, yourinterview with my boy may be a short one, and you may not have anopportunity to meet at all for days. If it does not pain you toomuch, will you tell me just what your troubles are here? I can thentell him, so that you can save time when you are together. " She gazedinto my eyes for some seconds, as though to prove me, whether I were atrue man. 

"I think you are right, " she answered, taking courage. "I will tellyou in two words. My father treats me as though I had committed someunpardonable crime, which I do not at all understand. He says myreputation is ruined. Surely that is not true?" She asked the questionso innocently and simply that I smiled. 

"No, my dear, it is not true, " I replied. 

"I am sure I cannot understand it, " she continued; "but he says so, and insists that my only course is to accept what he calls theadvantageous offer which has suddenly presented itself. He insistsvery roughly. " She shuddered slightly. "He gives me no peace. Itappears that this creature wrote to ask my father for my hand when weleft Rome two months ago. The letter was forwarded, and my fatherbegan at once to tell me that I must make up my mind to the marriage. At first I used to be very angry; but seeing we were alone, I finallydetermined to seem indifferent, and not to answer him when he talkedabout it. Then he thought my spirit was broken, and he sent for BaronBenoni, who arrived a fortnight ago. Do you know him, Signor Grandi?You came to see him, so I suppose you do?" The same look of hatred andloathing came to her face that I had noticed when Benoni and I met herin the hall. 

"Yes, I know him. He is a traitor, a villain, " I said earnestly. 

"Yes, and more than that. But he is a great banker in Russia--"

"A banker?" I asked, in some astonishment. 

"Did you not know it? Yes; he is very rich, and has a great firm, ifthat is the name for it. But he wanders incessantly, and his partnerstake care of his affairs. My father says that I shall marry him or endmy days here. "

"Unless you end his for him!" I cried, indignantly. 

"Hush!" said she, and trembled violently. "He is my father, you know, "she added, with sudden earnestness. 

"But you cannot consent--" I began. 

"Consent!" she interrupted with a bitter laugh. "I will die ratherthan consent. "

"I mean, you cannot consent to be shut up in this valley for ever. "

"If need be, I will, " she said, in a low voice. 

"There is no need, " I whispered. 

"You do not know my father. He is a man of iron, " she answered, sorrowfully. 

"You do not know my boy. He is a man of his word, " I replied. 

We were both silent, for we both knew very well what our words meant. From such a situation there could be but one escape. 

"I think you ought to go now, " she said, at last. "If I were missed itwould all be over. But I am sorry to let you go, you are so kind. Howcan you let me know--" She stopped, with a blush, and stooped to raisethe lamp from the floor. 

"Can you not meet here to-morrow night, when they are asleep?" Isuggested, knowing what her question would have been. 

"I will send the same man to you to-morrow evening, and let you knowwhat is possible, " she said. "And now I will show you the way out ofmy house, " she added, with the first faint shadow of a smile. With theslight gilt lamp in her hand she went out of the little rock chamber, listened a moment, and began to descend the steps. 

"But the key?" I asked, following her light footsteps with my heaviertread. 

"It is in the door, " she answered, and went on. 

When we reached the bottom we found it as she had said. The servanthad left the key on the inside, and with some difficulty I turned thebolts. We stood for one moment in the narrow space, where the loweststep was set close against the door. Her eyes flashed strangely in thelamplight. 

"How easy it would be!" I said, understanding her glance. She nodded, and pushed me gently out into the street; and I closed the door, andleaned against it as she locked it. 

"Good-night, " she said from the other side, and I put my mouth to thekey-hole. "Good-night. Courage!" I answered. I could hear her lightlymounting the stone steps. It seemed wonderful to me that she shouldnot be afraid to go back alone. But love makes people brave. 

The moon had risen higher during the time I had been within, and Istrolled round the base of the rock, lighting a cigar as I went. Theterrible adventure I had dreaded was now over, and I felt myselfagain. In truth, it was a curious thing to happen to a man of my yearsand my habits; but the things I had heard had so much absorbed myattention that, while the interview lasted, I had forgotten thestrange manner of the meeting. I was horrified at the extent of thegirl's misery, more felt than understood from her brief descriptionand passionate outbreaks. There is no mistaking the strength of asuffering that wastes and consumes the mortal part of us as wax meltsat the fire. 

And Benoni--the villain! He had written to ask Hedwig in marriagebefore he came to see me in Rome. There was something fiendish in hisalmost inviting me to see his triumph, and I cursed him as I kickedthe loose stones in the road with my heavy shoes. So he was a banker, as well as a musician and a wanderer. Who would have thought it?

"One thing is clear, " I said to myself, as I went to bed: "unlesssomething is done immediately, that poor girl will consume herself anddie. " And all that night her poor thin face and staring eyes were inmy dreams; so that I woke up several times, thinking I was trying tocomfort her, and could not. But toward dawn I felt sure that Nino wascoming, and that all would be well. 

I was chatting with my old landlady the next morning, and smoking topass the time, when there was suddenly a commotion in the street. Thatis to say, someone was arriving, and all the little children turnedout in a body to run after the stranger, while the old women came totheir doors with their knitting, and squinted under the brightsunlight to see what was the matter. 

It was Nino, of course--my own boy, riding on a stout mule, with acountryman by his side upon another. He was dressed in plain grayclothes, and wore high boots. His great felt hat drooped half acrosshis face, and hid his eyes from me; but there was no mistaking thestern square jaw and the close even lips. I ran toward him and calledhim by name. In a moment he was off his beast, and we embracedtenderly. 

"Have you seen her?" were the first words he spoke. I nodded, andhurried him into the house where I lived, fearful lest some mischanceshould bring the party from the castle riding by. He sent his man withthe mules to the inn, and when we were at last alone together he threwhimself into a chair, and took off his hat. 

Nino too was changed in the two months that had passed. He hadtravelled far, had sung lustily, and had been applauded to the skies;and he had seen the great world. But there was more than all that inhis face. There were lines of care and of thought that well became hismasculine features. There was a something in his look that told of aset purpose, and there was a light in his dark eyes that spoke a worldof warning to anyone who might dare to thwart him. But he seemedthinner, and his cheeks were as white as the paper I write on. 

Some men are born masters, and never once relax the authority theyexercise on those around them. Nino has always commanded me, as heseems to command everybody else, in the fewest words possible. But heis so true and honest and brave that all who know him love him; andthat is more than can be said for most artists. As he sat in hischair, hesitating what question to ask first, or waiting for me tospeak, I thought that if Hedwig von Lira had searched the whole worldfor a man able to deliver her from her cruel father and from her hatedlover she could have chosen no better champion than Nino Cardegna, thesinger. Of course you all say that I am infatuated with the boy, andthat I helped him to do a reckless thing, simply because I was blindedby my fondness. But I maintain, and shall ever hold, that Nino didright in this matter, and I am telling my story merely in order thathonest men may judge. 

He sat by the window, and the sun poured through the panes upon hiscurling hair, his travelling dress, and his dusty boots. The woman ofthe house brought in some wine and water; but he only sipped thewater, and would not touch the wine. 

"You are a dear, kind father to me, " he said, putting out his handfrom where he sat, "and before we talk I must tell you how much Ithank you. " Simple words, as they look on paper; but another man couldnot have said so much in an hour as his voice and look told me. 

CHAPTER XVI

"Nino mio, " I began, "I saw the contessina last night. She is in avery dramatic and desperate situation. But she greets you, and looksto you to save her from her troubles. " Nino's face was calm, but hisvoice trembled a little as he answered:

"Tell me quickly, please, what the troubles are. "

"Softly--I will tell you all about it. You must know that your friendBenoni is a traitor to you, and is here. Do not look astonished. Hehas made up his mind to marry the contessina, and she says she willdie rather than take him, which is quite right of her. " At the latterpiece of news Nino sprang from his chair. 

"You do not seriously mean that her father is trying to make her marryBenoni?" he cried. 

"It is infamous, my dear boy; but it is true. "

"Infamous! I should think you could find a stronger word. How did youlearn this?" I detailed the circumstances of our meeting on theprevious night. While I talked Nino listened with intense interest, and his face changed its look from anger to pity, and from pity tohorror. When I had finished, he was silent. 

"You can see for yourself, " I said, "that the case is urgent. "

"I will take her away, " said Nino, at last. "It will be veryunpleasant for the count. He would have been wiser to allow her tohave her own way. "

"Do nothing rash, Nino mio. Consider a little what the consequenceswould be if you were caught in the act of violently carrying off thedaughter of a man as powerful as Von Lira. "

"Bah! You talk of his power as though we lived under the Colonnesi andthe Orsini, instead of under a free monarchy. If I am once married toher, what have I to fear? Do you think the count would go to law abouthis daughter's reputation? Or do you suppose he would try to murderme?"

"I would do both, in his place, " I answered. "But perhaps you areright, and he will yield when he sees that he is outwitted. Thinkagain, and suppose that the contessina herself objects to such astep. "

"That is a different matter. She shall do nothing save by her own freewill. You do not imagine I would try to take her away unless she werewilling?" He sat down again beside me, and affectionately laid onehand on my shoulder. 

"Women, Nino, are women, " I remarked. 

"Unless they are angels, " he assented. 

"Keep the angels for Paradise, and beware of taking them intoconsideration in this working-day world. I have often told you, myboy, that I am older than you. "

"As if I doubted that!" he laughed. 

"Very well. I know something about women. A hundred women will tellyou that they are ready to flee with you; but not more than one in thehundred will really leave everything and follow you to the end of theworld when the moment comes for running away. They always make a fussat the last and say it is too dangerous, and you may be caught. Thatis the way of them. You will be quite ready with a ladder of ropes, like one of Boccaccio's men, and a roll of banknotes for the journey, and smelling-salts, and a cushion for the puppy dog, and a separateconveyance for the maid, just according to the directions she hasgiven you; then, at the very last, she will perhaps say that she isafraid of hurting her father's feelings by leaving him without anywarning. Be careful, Nino!"

"As for that, " he answered, sullenly enough, "if she will not, shewill not; and I would not attempt to persuade her against herinclination. But unless you have very much exaggerated what you saw inher face, she will be ready at five minutes' notice. It must be verylike hell up there in that castle, I should think. "

"Messer Diavolo, who rules over the house, will not let his preyescape him so easily as you think. "

"Her father?" he asked. 

"No; Benoni. There is no creature so relentless as an old man inpursuit of a young woman. "

"I am not afraid of Benoni. "

"You need not be afraid of her father, " said I, laughing. "He is lame, and cannot run after you. " I do not know why it is that we Romanslaugh at lame people; we are sorry for them, of course, as we are forother cripples. 

"There is something more than fear in the matter, " said Nino, seriously. "It is a great thing to have upon one's soul. "

"What?" I asked. 

"To take a daughter away from her father without his consent, --or atleast without consulting him. I would not like to do it. "

"Do you mean to ask the old gentleman's consent before eloping withhis daughter? You are a little donkey, Nino, upon my word. "

"Donkey, or anything else you like, but I will act like a galantuomo. I will see the count, and ask him once more whether he is willing tolet his daughter marry me. If not, so much the worse; he will bewarned. "

"Look here, Nino, " I said, astonished at the idea. "I have taught youa little logic. Suppose you meant to steal a horse instead of a woman. Would you go to the owner of the horse, with your hat in your hand, and say, 'I trust your worship will not be offended if I steal thishorse, which seems to be a good animal and pleases me'; and then wouldyou expect him to allow you to steal his horse?"

"Sor Cornelio, the case is not the same. Women have a right to befree, and to marry whom they please; but horses are slaves. However, as I am not a thief, I would certainly ask the man for the horse; andif he refused it, and I conceived that I had a right to have it, Iwould take it by force and not by stealth. "

"It appears to me that if you meant to get possession of what was notyours, you might as well get it in the easiest possible way, " Iobjected. "But we need not argue the case. There is a much betterreason why you should not consult the count. "

"I do not believe it, " said Nino, stubbornly. 

"Nevertheless, it is so. The Contessina di Lira is desperatelyunhappy, and if nothing is done she may die. Young women have died ofbroken hearts before now. You have no right to endanger her life byrisking failure. Answer me that, if you can, and I will grant you area cunning sophist, but not a good lover. "

"There is reason in what you say now, " he answered. "I had not thoughtof that desperateness of the case which you speak of. You have seenher. " He buried his face in his hand, and seemed to be thinking. 

"Yes, I have seen her, and I wish you had been in my place. You wouldthink differently about asking her father's leave to rescue her. " Fromhaving been anxious to prevent anything rash, it seemed that I was nowurging him into the very jaws of danger. I think that Hedwig's facewas before me, as it had been in reality on the previous evening. "AsCurione said to Caesar, delay is injurious to anyone who is fullyprepared for action. I remember also to have read somewhere that suchwaste of time in diplomacy and palavering is the favourite resource offeeble and timid minds, who regard the use of dilatory and ambiguousmeasures as an evidence of the most admirable and consummateprudence. "

"Oh, you need not use so much learning with me, " said Nino. "I assureyou that I will be neither dilatory nor ambiguous. In fact, I will goat once, without even dusting my boots, and I will say, Give me yourdaughter, if you can; and if you cannot, I will still hope to marryher. He will probably say 'No, ' and then I will carry her off. Itappears to me that is simple enough. "

"Take my advice, Nino. Carry her off first, and ask permissionafterwards. It is much better. The real master up there is Benoni, Ifancy, and not the count. Benoni is a gentleman who will give you muchtrouble. If you go now to see Hedwig's father, Benoni will be presentat the interview. " Nino was silent, and sat stretching his legs beforehim, his head on his breast. "Benoni, " I continued, "has made up hismind to succeed. He has probably taken this fancy into his head out ofpure wickedness. Perhaps he is bored, and really wants a wife. But Ibelieve he is a man who delights in cruelty, and would as lief breakthe contessina's heart by getting rid of you as by marrying her. " Isaw that he was not listening. 

"I have an idea, " he said at last. "You are not very wise, MesserCornelio, and you counsel me to be prudent and to be rash in the samebreath. "

"You make very pretty compliments, Sor Nino, " I answered, tartly. Heput out his hand deprecatingly. 

"You are as wise as any man can be who is not in love, " he said, looking at me with his great eyes. "But love is the best counsellor. "

"What is your idea?" I asked, somewhat pacified. 

"You say they ride together every day. Yes--very good. The contessinawill not ride to-day, partly because she will be worn out with fatiguefrom last night's interview, and partly because she will make aneffort to discover whether I have arrived to-day or not. You can counton that. "

"I imagine so. "

"Very well, " he continued; "in that case, one or two things willhappen: either the count will go out alone, or they will all stay athome. "

"Why will Benoni not go out with the count?"

"Because Benoni will hope to see Hedwig alone if he stays at home, andthe count will be very glad to give him the opportunity. "

"I think you are right, Nino. You are not so stupid as I thought. "

"In war, " continued the boy, "a general gains a great advantage byseparating his adversary's forces. If the count goes out alone, I willpresent myself to him in the road, and tell him what I want. "

"Now you are foolish again. You should, on the contrary, enter thehouse when the count is away, and take the signorina with you then andthere. Before he could return you would be miles on the road to Rome. "

"In the first place, I tell you once and for all, Sor Cornelio, " hesaid, slowly, "that such an action would be dishonourable, and I willnot do anything of the kind. Moreover, you forget that, if I followedyour advice, I should find Benoni at home, --the very man from whom youthink I have everything to fear. No; I must give the count one fairchance. " I was silent, for I saw he was determined, and yet I wouldnot let him think I was satisfied. 

The idea of losing an advantage by giving an enemy any sort of warningbefore the attack seemed to me novel in the extreme; but I comprehendedthat Nino saw in his scheme a satisfaction to his conscience, andsmelled in it a musty odour of forgotten knight-errantry that he hadprobably learned to love in his theatrical experiences. I had certainlynot expected that Nino Cardegna, the peasant child, would turn out tobe the pink of chivalry and the mirror of honour. But I could not helpadmiring his courage, and wondering if it would not play him false atthe perilous moment. I did not half know him then, though he had beenwith me for so many years. But I was very anxious to ascertain fromhim what he meant to do, for I feared that his bold action would maketrouble, and I had visions of the count and Benoni together takingsudden and summary vengeance on myself. 

"Nino, " I said, "I have made great sacrifices to help you in findingthese people, "--I would not tell him I had sold my vineyard to makepreparations for a longer journey, though he has since found itout, --"but if you are going to do anything rash I will get on mylittle ass and ride a few miles from the village until it is over. "Nino laughed aloud. 

"My dear professor, " he said, "do not be afraid. I will give youplenty of time to get out of the way. Meanwhile, the contessina iscertain to send the confidential servant of whom you speak to give meinstructions. If I am not here, you ought to be, in order to receivethe message. Now listen to me. "

I prepared to be attentive and to hear his scheme. I was by no meansexpecting the plan he proposed. 

"The count may take it into his head to ride at a different hour, ifhe rides alone, " he began. "I will therefore have my mule saddled now, and will station my man--a countryman from Subiaco and good for anydevilry--in some place where he can watch the entrance to the house, or the castle, or whatever you call this place. So soon as he sees thecount come out he will call me. As a man can ride in only one of twodirections in this valley, I shall have no trouble whatever in meetingthe old gentleman, even if I cannot overtake him with my mule. "

"Have you any arms, Nino?"

"No. I do not want weapons to face an old man in broad daylight; andhe is too much of a soldier to attack me if I am defenceless. If theservant comes after I am gone, you must remember every detail of whathe says, and you must also arrange a little matter with him. Here ismoney, as much as will keep any Roman servant quiet. The man will berich before we have done with him. I will write a letter which he mustdeliver; but he must also know what he has to do. 

"At twelve o'clock to-night the contessina must positively be at thedoor of the staircase by which you entered yesterday. _Positively_--doyou understand? She will then choose for herself between what she issuffering now and flight with me. If she chooses to fly, my mules andmy countryman will be ready. The servant who admits me had better makethe best of his way to Rome, with the money he has got. There will bedifficulties in the way of getting the contessina to the staircase, especially as the count will be in a towering passion with me, andwill not sleep much. But he will not have the smallest idea that Ishall act so suddenly, and he will fancy that when once his daughteris safe within the walls for the night she will not think of escaping. I do not believe he even knows of the existence of this staircase. Atall events, it appears, from your success in bribing the first man youmet, that the servants are devoted to her interests and their own andnot at all to those of her father. "

"I cannot conceive, Nino, " said I, "why you do not put this bold planinto execution without seeing the count first, and making the wholething so dangerous. If he takes alarm in the night he will catch youfast enough on his good horses before you are at Trevi. "

"I am determined to act as I propose, " said Nino, "because it is athousand times more honourable, and because I am certain that thecontessina would not have me act otherwise. She will also see forherself that flight is best; for I am sure the count will make a sceneof some kind when he comes home from meeting me. If she knows she canescape to-night she will not suffer from what he has to say; but shewill understand that without the prospect of freedom she would suffervery much. "

"Where did you learn to understand women, my boy?" I asked. 

"I do not understand women in general, " he answered, "but Iunderstand very well the only woman who exists for me personally. Iknow that she is the soul of honour, and that at the same time she hasenough common sense to perceive the circumstances of the situation. "

"But how will you make sure of not being overtaken?" I objected, making a last feeble stand against his plan. 

"That is simple enough. My countryman from Subiaco knows every inch ofthese hills. He says that the pass above Fillettino is impracticablefor any animals save men, mules, and donkeys. A horse would roll downat every turn. My mules are the best of their kind, and there are nonelike them here. By sunrise I shall be over the Serra and well on theway to Ceprano, or whatever place I may choose for joining therailroad. "

"And I? Will you leave me here to be murdered by that Prussian devil?"I asked, in some alarm. 

"Why, no, padre mio. If you like, you can start for Rome at sunset, oras soon as I return from meeting the count; or you can get on yourdonkey and go up the pass, where we shall overtake you. Nobody willharm you, in your disguise, and your donkey is even more surefootedthan my mules. It will be a bright night, too, for the moon is full. "

"Well, well, Nino, " said I at last, "I suppose you will have your ownway, as you always do in the world. And if it must be so, I will go upthe pass alone, for I am not afraid at all. It would be against allthe proprieties that you should be riding through a wild country aloneat night with the young lady you intend to marry; and if I go with youthere will be nothing to be said, for I am a very proper person, andhold a responsible position in Rome. But for charity's sake, do notundertake anything of this kind again--"

"Again?" exclaimed Nino, in surprise. "Do you expect me to spend mylife in getting married, --not to say in eloping?"

"Well, I trust that you will have enough of it this time. "

"I cannot conceive that when a man has once married the woman he loveshe should ever look at another, " said Nino, gravely. 

"You are a most blessed fellow, " I exclaimed. 

Nino found my writing materials, which consisted of a bad steel pen, some coarse ruled paper, and a wretched little saucer of ink, andbegan writing an epistle to the contessina. I watched him as he wrote, and I smoked a little to pass the time. As I looked at him I came tothe conclusion that to-day, at least, he was handsome. His thick haircurled about his head, and his white skin was as pale and clear asmilk. I thought that his complexion had grown less dark than it usedto be, perhaps from being so much in the theatre at night. That takesthe dark blood out of the cheeks. But any woman would have lookedtwice at him. Besides, there was, as there is now, a certainmarvellous neatness and spotlessness about his dress; but for hisdusty boots you would not have guessed he had been travelling. PoorNino. When he had not a penny in the world but what he earned bycopying music, he used to spend it all with the washerwoman, so thatMariuccia was often horrified, and I reproved him for theextravagance. 

At last he finished writing, and put his letter into the only envelopethere was left. He gave it to me, and said he would go out and orderhis mules to be ready. 

"I may be gone all day, " he said, "and I may return in a few hours. Icannot tell. In any case, wait for me, and give the letter and allinstructions to the man, if he comes. " Then he thanked me once morevery affectionately, and having embraced me he went out. 

I watched him from the window, and he looked up and waved his hand. Iremember it very distinctly--just how he looked. His face was palerthan ever, his lips were close set, though they smiled, and his eyeswere sad. He is an incomprehensible boy--he always was. 

I was left alone, with plenty of time for meditation, and I assure youmy reflections were not pleasant. O love, love, what madness you driveus into, by day and night! Surely it is better to be a sober professorof philosophy than to be in love, ever so wildly, or sorrowfully, orhappily. I do not wonder that a parcel of idiots have tried to provethat Dante loved philosophy and called it Beatrice. He would have beena sober professor, if that were true, and a happier man. But I am sureit is not true, for I was once in love myself. 

CHAPTER XVII

It fell out as Nino had anticipated, and when he told me all thedetails, some time afterwards, it struck me that he had shown anuncommon degree of intelligence in predicting that the old count wouldride alone that day. He had, indeed, so made his arrangements thateven if the whole party had come out together nothing worse would haveoccurred than a postponement of the interview he sought. But he wasdestined to get what he wanted that very day, namely, an opportunityof speaking with Von Lira alone. 

It was twelve o'clock when he left me, and the mid-day bell wasringing from the church, while the people bustled about getting theirfood. Every old woman had a piece of corn cake, and the raggedchildren got what they could, gathering the crumbs in their mothers'aprons. A few rough fellows who were not away at work in the valleymunched the maize bread with a leek and a bit of salt fish, and someof them had oil on it. Our mountain people eat scarcely anything else, unless it be a little meat on holidays, or an egg when the hens arelaying. But they laugh and chatter over the coarse fare, and drink alittle wine when they can get it. Just now, however, was the seasonfor fasting, being the end of Holy Week, and the people made a virtueof necessity, and kept their eggs and their wine for Easter. 

When Nino went out he found his countryman, and explained to him whathe was to do. The man saddled one of the mules and put himself on thewatch, while Nino sat by the fire in the quaint old inn and ate somebread. It was the end of March when these things happened, and alittle fire was grateful, though one could do very well without it. Hespread his hands to the flame of the sticks, as he sat on the woodensettle by the old hearth, and he slowly gnawed his corn cake, asthough a week before he had not been a great man in Paris, diningsumptuously with famous people. He was not thinking of that. He waslooking in the flame for a fair face that he saw continually beforehim, day and night. He expected to wait a long time, --some hours, perhaps. 

Twenty minutes had not elapsed, however, before his man camebreathless through the door, calling to him to come at once; for thesolitary rider had gone out, as was expected, and at a pace that wouldsoon take him out of sight. Nino threw his corn bread to a hungry dogthat yelped as it hit him, and then fastened on it like a beast ofprey. 

In the twinkling of an eye he and his man were out of the inn. Asthey ran to the place where the mule was tied to an old ring in thecrumbling wall of a half-ruined house near to the ascent to thecastle, the man told Nino that the fine gentleman had ridden towardTrevi, down the valley, Nino mounted, and hastened in the samedirection. 

As he rode he reflected that it would be wiser to meet the count onhis return, and pass him after the interview, as though going awayfrom Fillettino. It would be a little harder for the mule; but suchan animal, used to bearing enormous burdens for twelve hours at astretch, could well carry Nino only a few miles of good road beforesunset, and yet be fresh again by midnight. One of those great sleekmules, if good-tempered, will tire three horses, and never feel theworse for it. He therefore let the beast go her own pace along theroad to Trevi, winding by the brink of the rushing torrent: sometimesbeneath great overhanging cliffs, sometimes through bits of cultivatedland, where the valley widens; and now and then passing under somebeech-trees, still naked and skeleton-like in the bright March air. 

But Nino rode many miles, as he thought, without meeting the count, dangling his feet out of the stirrups, and humming snatches of song tohimself to pass the time. He looked at his watch, --a beautiful goldone, given him by a very great personage in Paris, --and it washalf-past two o'clock. Then, to avoid tiring his mule, he got off andsat by a tree, at a place where he could see far along the road. Butthree o'clock came, and a quarter past, and he began to fear that thecount had gone all the way to Trevi. Indeed, Trevi could not be veryfar off, he thought. So he mounted again, and paced down the valley. He says that in all that time he never thought once of what he shouldsay to the count when he met him, having determined in his mind onceand for all what was to be asked; to which the only answer must be"yes" or "no. "

At last, before he reached the turn in the valley, and just as the sunwas passing down behind the high mountains on the left, beyond thestream, he saw the man he had come out to meet, not a hundred yardsaway, riding toward him on his great horse, at a foot pace. It was thecount, and he seemed lost in thought, for his head was bent on hisbreast, and the reins hung carelessly loose from his hand. He did notraise his eyes until he was close to Nino, who took off his hat andpulled up short. 

The old count was evidently very much surprised, for he suddenlystraightened himself in his saddle, with a sort of jerk, and glaredsavagely at Nino; his wooden features appearing to lose colour, andhis long moustache standing out and bristling. He also reined in hishorse, and the pair sat on their beasts, not five yards apart, eyingeach other like a pair of duelists. Nino was the first to speak, forhe was prepared. 

"Good day, Signor Conte, " he said, as calmly as he could. "You havenot forgotten me, I am sure. " Lira looked more and more amazed as heobserved the cool courtesy with which he was accosted. But his politemanner did not desert him even then, for he raised his hat. 

"Good-day, " he said, briefly, and made his horse move on. He was tooproud to put the animal to a brisker pace than a walk, lest he shouldseem to avoid an enemy. But Nino turned his mule at the same time. 

"Pardon the liberty, sir, " he said, "but I would take advantage ofthis opportunity to have a few words with you. "

"It is a liberty, as you say, sir, " replied Lira, stiffly, and lookingstraight before him. "But since you have met me, say what you have tosay quickly. " He talked in the same curious constructions as formerly, but I will spare you the grammatical vagaries. 

"Some time has elapsed, " continued Nino, "since our unfortunateencounter. I have been in Paris, where I have had more than commonsuccess in my profession. From being a very poor teacher of Italian tothe signorina, your daughter, I am become an exceedingly prosperousartist. My character is blameless and free from all stain, in spiteof the sad business in which we were both concerned, and of which youknew the truth from the dead lady's own lips. "

"What then?" growled Lira, who had listened grimly, and was fastlosing his temper. "What then? Do you suppose, Signor Cardegna, thatI am still interested in your comings and goings?"

"The sequel to what I have told you, sir, " answered Nino, bowingagain, and looking very grave, "is that I once more most respectfullyand honestly ask you to give me the hand of your daughter, theSignorina Hedwig von Lira. "

The hot blood flushed the old soldier's hard features to the roots ofhis gray hair, and his voice trembled as he answered:

"Do you intend to insult me, sir? If so, this quiet road is afavourable spot for settling the question. It shall never be said thatan officer in the service of his majesty the King and Emperor refusedto fight with anyone, --with his tailor, if need be. " He reined hishorse from Nino's side, and eyed him fiercely. 

"Signor Conte, " answered Nino, calmly, "nothing could be further frommy thoughts than to insult you, or to treat you in any way withdisrespect. And I will not acknowledge that anything you can say canconvey an insult to myself. " Lira smiled in a sardonic fashion. "But, "added Nino, "if it would give you any pleasure to fight, and if youhave weapons, I shall be happy to oblige you. It is a quiet spot, asyou say, and it shall never be said that an Italian artist refused tofight a German soldier. "

"I have two pistols in my holsters, " said Lira, with a smile. "Theroads are not safe, and I always carry them. "

"Then, sir, be good enough to select one and to give me the other, and we will at once proceed to business. "

The count's manner changed. He looked grave. 

"I have the pistols, Signor Cardegna, but I do not desire to use them. Your readiness satisfies me that you are in earnest, and we willtherefore not fight for amusement. I need not defend myself from anycharge of unwillingness, I believe, " he added, proudly. 

"In that case, sir, " said Nino, "and since we have convinced eachother that we are serious and desire to be courteous, let us conversecalmly. "

"Have you anything more to say?" asked the count, once more allowinghis horse to pace along the dusty road, while Nino's mule walked byhis side. 

"I have this to say, Signor Conte, " answered Nino: "that I shall notdesist from desiring the honour of marrying your daughter, if yourefuse me a hundred times. I wish to put it to you whether with youth, some talent, --I speak modestly, --and the prospect of a plentifulincome, I am not as well qualified to aspire to the alliance as BaronBenoni, who has old age, much talent, an enormous fortune, and thebenefit of the Jewish faith into the bargain. "

The count winced palpably at the mention of Benoni's religion. Nopeople are more insanely prejudiced against the Hebrew race than theGermans. They indeed maintain that they have greater cause thanothers, but it always appears to me that they are unreasonable aboutit. Benoni chanced to be a Jew, but his peculiarities would have beenthe same had he been a Christian or an American. There is only oneAhasuerus Benoni in the world. 

"There is no question of Baron Benoni here, " said the count severely, but hurriedly. "Your observations are beside the mark. The objectionsto the alliance, as you call it, are that you are a man of thepeople, --I do not desire to offend you, --a plebeian, in fact; you arealso a man of uncertain fortune, like all singers: and lastly, you arean artist. I trust you will consider these points as a sufficientreason for my declining the honour you propose. "

"I will only say, " returned Nino, "that I venture to consider yourreasons insufficient, though I do not question your decision. BaronBenoni was ennobled for a loan made to a Government in difficulties;he was, by his own account, a shoemaker by early occupation, and astrolling musician--a great artist if you like--by the profession headopted. "

"I never heard these facts, " said Lira, "and I suspect that you havebeen misinformed. But I do not wish to continue the discussion of thesubject. "

Nino says that after the incident of the pistols the interview passedwithout the slightest approach to ill-temper on either side. They bothfelt that if they disagreed they were prepared to settle theirdifficulties then and there, without any further ado. 

"Then, sir, before we part, permit me to call your attention to amatter which must be of importance to you, " said Nino. "I refer to thehappiness of the Signorina di Lira. In spite of your refusal of myoffer, you will understand that the welfare of that lady must alwaysbe to me of the greatest importance. "

Lira bowed his head stiffly, and seemed inclined to speak, but changedhis mind, and held his tongue, to see what Nino would say. 

"You will comprehend, I am sure, " continued the latter, "that in thecourse of those months, during which I was so far honoured as to beof service to the contessina, I had opportunities of observing herremarkably gifted intelligence. I am now credibly informed that she issuffering from ill health. I have not seen her, nor made any attemptto see her, as you might have supposed, but I have an acquaintance inFillettino who has seen her pass his door daily. Allow me to remarkthat a mind of such rare qualities must grow sick if driven to feedupon itself in solitude. I would respectfully suggest that some gayerresidence than Fillettino would be a sovereign remedy for herillness. "

"Your tone and manner, " replied the count, "forbid my resenting yourinterference. I have no reason to doubt your affection for mydaughter, but I must request you to abandon all idea of changing mydesigns. If I choose to bring my daughter to a true sense of herposition by somewhat rigorous methods, it is because I am aware thatthe frailty of reputation surpasses the frailty of woman. I will saythis to your credit, sir, that if she has not disgraced herself, ithas been in some measure because you wisely forbore from pressing yoursuit while you were received as an instructor beneath my roof. I amonly doing my duty in trying to make her understand that her good namehas been seriously exposed, and that the best reparation she can makelies in following my wishes, and accepting the honourable andadvantageous marriage I have provided for her. I trust that thisexplanation, which I am happy to say has been conducted with thestrictest propriety, will be final, and that you will at once desistfrom any further attempts toward persuading me to consent to a unionthat I disapprove. "

Lira once more stopped his horse in the road, and taking off his hatbowed to Nino. 

"And I, sir, " said Nino, no less courteously, "am obliged to you foryour clearly-expressed answer. I shall never cease to regret yourdecision, and so long as I live I shall hope that you may change yourmind. Good-day, Signor Conte, " and he bowed to his saddle. 

"Good-day, Signor Cardegna. " So they parted: the count headinghomeward toward Fillettino, and Nino turning back toward Trevi. 

By this manoeuvre he conveyed to the count's mind the impression thathe had been to Fillettino for the day, and was returning to Trevi forthe evening; and in reality the success of his enterprise, sincehis representations had failed, must depend upon Hedwig beingcomparatively free during the ensuing night. He determined to wait bythe roadside until it should be dark, allowing his mule to cropwhatever poor grass she could find at this season, and thus giving thecount time to reach Fillettino, even at the most leisurely pace. 

He sat down upon the root of a tree, and allowed his mule to graze atliberty. It was already growing dark in the valley; for between thelong speeches of civility the two had employed and the frequent pausesin the interview, the meeting had lasted the greater part of an hour. 

Nino says that while he waited he reviewed his past life and hispresent situation. 

Indeed, since he had made his first appearance in the theatre, threemonths before, events had crowded thick and fast in his life. Thefirst sensation of a great public success is strange to one who haslong been accustomed to live unnoticed and unhonoured by the world. Itis at first incomprehensible that one should have suddenly grown to bean object of interest and curiosity to one's fellow-creatures, afterhaving been so long a looker-on. At first a man does not realise thatthe thing he has laboured over, and studied, and worked on, can beactually anything remarkable. The production of the every-day task haslong grown a habit, and the details which the artist grows to admireand love so earnestly have each brought with them their own reward. Every difficulty vanquished, every image of beauty embodied, every newfacility of skill acquired, has been in itself a real and enduringsatisfaction for its own sake, and for the sake of its fitness to thewhole, --the beautiful perfect whole he has conceived. 

But he must necessarily forget, if he loves his work, that those whocome after, and are to see the expression of his thought, or hear themastery of his song, see or hear it all at once; so that theassemblage of the lesser beauties, over each of which the artist hashad great joy, must produce a suddenly multiplied impression upon theunderstanding of the outside world, which sees first the embodiment ofthe thought, and has then the after-pleasure of appreciating thedetails. The hearer is thrilled with a sense of impassioned beauty, which the singer may perhaps feel when he first conceives theinterpretation of the printed notes, but which goes over farther fromhim as he strives to approach it and realise it; and so his admirationfor his own song is lost in dissatisfaction with the failings whichothers have not time to see. 

Before he is aware of the change, a singer has become famous, and allmen are striving for a sight of him, or a hearing. There are few likeNino, whose head was not turned at all by the flattery and the praise, being occupied with other things. As he sat by the roadside, hethought of the many nights when the house rang with cheers and criesand all manner of applause; and he remembered how, each time he lookedhis audience in the face, he had searched for the one face of allfaces that he cared to see, and had searched in vain. 

He seemed now to understand that it was his honest-hearted love forthe fair northern girl that had protected him from caring for theouter world, and he now realised what the outer world was. He fanciedto himself what his first three months of brilliant success might havebeen, in Rome and Paris, if he had not been bound by some strong tieof the heart to keep him serious and thoughtful. He thought of thewomen who had smiled upon him, and of the invitations that hadbesieged him, and of the consternation that had manifested itself whenhe declared his intention of retiring to Rome, after his brilliantengagement in Paris, without signing any further contract. 

Then came the rapid journey, the excitement, the day in Rome, thedifficulties of finding Fillettino; and at last he was here, sittingby the roadside, and waiting for it to be time to carry into executionthe bold scheme he had set before him. His conscience was at rest, forhe now felt that he had done all that the most scrupulous honour couldexact of him. He had returned in the midst of his success to make anhonourable offer of marriage, and he had been refused, --because he wasa plebeian, forsooth! And he knew also that the woman he loved wasbreaking her heart for him. 

What wonder that he set his teeth, and said to himself that she shouldbe his, at any price! Nino has no absurd ideas about the ridicule thatattaches to loving a woman, and taking her if necessary. He has notbeen trained up in the heart of the wretched thing they call society, which ruined me long ago. What he wants he asks for, like a child, andif it is refused, and his good heart tells him that he has a right toit, he takes it like a man, or like what a man was in the old timebefore the Englishman discovered that he is an ape. Ah, my learnedcolleagues, we are not so far removed from the ancestral monkey butthat there is serious danger of our shortly returning to thatprimitive and caudal state! And I think that my boy and the Prussianofficer, as they sat on their beasts and bowed, and smiled, andoffered to fight each other, or to shake hands, each desiring tooblige the other, like a couple of knights of the old ages, were atrifle farther removed from our common gorilla parentage than some ofus. 

But it grew dark, and Nino caught his mule and rode slowly back to thetown, wondering what would happen before the sun rose on the otherside of the world. Now, lest you fail to understand wholly how thematter passed, I must tell you a little of what took place during thetime that Nino was waiting for the count, and Hedwig was alone in thecastle with Baron Benoni. The way I came to know is this: Hedwig toldthe whole story to Nino, and Nino told it to me, --but many monthsafter that eventful day, which I shall always consider as one of themost remarkable in my life. It was Good Friday, last year, and you mayfind out the day of the month for yourselves. 

CHAPTER XVIII

As Nino had guessed, the count was glad of a chance to leave hisdaughter alone with Benoni, and it was for this reason that he hadridden out so early. The baron's originality and extraordinary musicaltalent seemed to Lira gifts which a woman needed only to see in orderto appreciate, and which might well make her forget his snowy locks. During the time of Benoni's visit the count had not yet beensuccessful in throwing the pair together, for Hedwig's dislike for thebaron made her exert her tact to the utmost in avoiding his society. 

It so happened that Hedwig, rising early, and breathing the sweet, cool air from the window of her chamber, had seen Nino ride by on hismule, when he arrived in the morning. He did not see her, for thestreet merely passed the corner of the great pile, and it was only bystretching her head far out that Hedwig could get a glimpse of it. Butit amused her to watch the country people going by, with their mulesand donkeys and hampers, or loads of firewood; and she would oftenlean over the window-sill for half an hour at a time gazing at thelittle stream of mountain life, and sometimes weaving small romancesof the sturdy brown women and their active, dark-browed shepherdlovers. Moreover, she fully expected that Nino would arrive that day, and had some faint hope of seeing him go along the road. So she wasrewarded, and the sight of the man she loved was the first breath offreedom. 

In a great house like the strange abode Lira had selected for theseclusion of his daughter, it constantly occurs that one person is inignorance of the doings of the others; and so it was natural that whenHedwig heard the clatter of hoofs in the courtyard, and the echoingcrash of the great doors as they opened and closed, she should thinkboth her father and Benoni had ridden away, and would be gone for themorning. She would not look out, lest she should see them and be seen. 

I cannot tell you exactly what she felt when she saw Nino from herlofty window, but she was certainly glad with her whole heart. If shehad not known of his coming from my visit the previous evening, shewould perhaps have given way to some passionate outburst of happiness;but as it was, the feeling of anticipation, the sweet, false dawn offreedom, together with the fact that she was prepared, took from thisfirst pleasure all that was overwhelming. She only felt that he hadcome, and that she would soon be saved from Benoni; she could not tellhow, but she knew it, and smiled to herself for the first time inmonths, as she held a bit of jewelry to her slender throat before theglass, wondering whether she had not grown too thin and pale to pleaseher lover, who had been courted by the beauties of the world since hehad left her. 

She was ill, perhaps, and tired. That was why she looked pale; but sheknew that the first day of freedom would make her as beautiful asever. She spent the morning hours in her rooms; but when she heard thegates close she fancied herself alone in the great house, and wentdown into the sunny courtyard to breathe the air, and to give certaininstructions to her faithful man. She sent him to my house to speakwith me; and that was all the message he had for the present. However, he knew well enough what he was to do. There was a strong smell ofbanknotes in the air, and the man kept his nose up. 

Having despatched this important business, Hedwig set herself to walkup and down the paved quadrangle on the sunny side. There was a stonebench in a warm corner that looked inviting. She entered the house andbrought out a book, with which she established herself to read. Shehad often longed to sit there in the afternoon and watch the suncreeping across the flags, pursued by the shadow, till each small bitof moss and blade of grass had received its daily portion of warmth. For though the place had been cleared and weeded, the tiny greenthings still grew in the chinks of the pavement. In the middle of thecourt was a well with a cover and yoke of old-fashioned twisted ironand a pulley to draw the water. The air was bright and fresh outsidethe castle, but the reverberating rays of the sun made the quietcourtyard warm and still. 

Sick with her daily torture of mind the fair, pale girl rested her, atlast, and dreaming of liberty drew strength from the soft stillness. The book fell on her lap, her head leaned back against the roughstones of the wall, and gradually, as she watched from beneath herhalf-closed lids the play of the stealing sunlight, she fell into asweet sleep. 

She was soon disturbed by that indescribable ununeasiness that creepsthrough our dreams when we are asleep in the presence of danger. Aweird horror possesses us, and makes the objects in the dream appearunnatural. Gradually the terror grows on us and thrills us, and wewake, with bristling hair and staring eyes, to the hideousconsciousness of unexpected peril. 

Hedwig started and raised her lids, following the direction of herdream. She was not mistaken. Opposite her stood her arch-horror, Benoni. He leaned carelessly against the stone well, and his brightbrown eyes were riveted upon her. His tall, thin figure was clad, asusual, in all the extreme of fashion, and one of his long, bony handstoyed with his watch-chain. His animated face seemed aglow with thepleasure of contemplation, and the sunshine lent a yellow tinge to hissnowy hair. 

"An exquisite picture, indeed, countess, " he said, without moving. "Itrust your dreams were as sweet as they looked?"

"They were sweet, sir, " she answered coldly, after a moment's pause, during which she looked steadily toward him. 

"I regret that I should have disturbed them, " he said, with adeferential bow; and he came and sat by her side, treading as lightlyas a boy across the flags. Hedwig shuddered and drew her dark skirtsabout her as he sat down. 

"You cannot regret it more than I do, " she said, in tones of ice. Shewould not take refuge in the house, for it would have seemed like anignominious flight. Benoni crossed one leg over the other, and askedpermission to smoke, which she granted by an indifferent motion of herfair head. 

"So we are left all alone to-day, countess, " remarked Benoni, blowingrings of smoke in the quiet air. 

Hedwig vouchsafed no answer. 

"We are left alone, " he repeated, seeing that she was silent, "and Imake it hereby my business and my pleasure to amuse you. "

"You are good, sir. But I thank you. I need no entertainment of yourdevising. "

"That is eminently unfortunate, " returned the baron, with hisimperturbable smile, "for I am universally considered to be the mostamusing of mortals, --if, indeed, I am mortal at all, which I sometimesdoubt. "

"Do you reckon yourself with the gods, then?" asked Hedwig scornfully. "Which of them are you? Jove? Dionysus? Apollo?"

"Nay, rather Phaethon, who soared too high--"

"Your mythology is at fault, sir, --he drove too low; and besides, hewas not immortal. "

"It is the same. He was wide of the mark, as I am. Tell me, countess, are your wits always so ready?"

"You, at least, will always find them so, " she answered, bitterly. 

"You are unkind. You stab my vanity, as you have pierced my heart. "

At this speech Hedwig raised her eyebrows and stared at him insilence. Any other man would have taken the chilling rebuke and lefther. Benoni put on a sad expression. 

"You used not to hate me as you do now, " he said. 

"That is true. I hated you formerly because I hated you. "

"And now?" asked Benoni, with a short laugh. 

"I hate you now because I loathe you. " She uttered this singularsaying indifferently, as being part of her daily thoughts. 

"You have the courage of your opinions, countess, " he replied, with avery bitter smile. 

"Yes? It is only the courage a woman need have. " There was a pause, during which Benoni puffed much smoke and stroked his whitemoustache. Hedwig turned over the leaves of her book, as thoughhinting to him to go. But he had no idea of that. A man who will notgo because a woman loathes him will certainly not leave her for ahint. 

"Countess, " he began again, at last, "will you listen to me?"

"I suppose I must. I presume my father has left you here to insult meat your noble leisure. "

"Ah, countess, dear countess, "--she shrank away from him, --"you shouldknow me better than to believe me capable of anything so monstrous. Iinsult you? Gracious heaven! I, who adore you; who worship the holyground whereon you tread; who would preserve the precious air you havebreathed in vessels of virgin crystal; who would give a drop of myblood for every word you vouchsafe me, kind or cruel, --I, who look onyou as the only divinity in this desolate heathen world, who reverenceyou and do you daily homage, who adore you--"

"You manifest your adoration in a singular manner, sir, " said Hedwig, interrupting him with something of her father's severity. 

"I show it as best I can, " the old scoundrel pleaded, working himselfinto a passion of words. "My life, my fortune, my name, my honour, --Icast them at your feet. For you I will be a hermit, a saint, dwellingin solitary places and doing good works; or I will brave every dangerthe narrow earth holds, by sea and land, for you. What? Am I decrepit, or bent, or misshapen, that my white hair should cry out against me?Am I hideous, or doting, or half-witted, as old men are? I am young; Iam strong, active, enduring. I have all the gifts, for you. "

The baron was speaking French, and perhaps these wild praises ofhimself might pass current in a foreign language. But when Ninodetailed the conversation to me in our good, simple Italian speech, itsounded so amazingly ridiculous that I nearly broke my sides withlaughing. 

Hedwig laughed also, and so loudly that the foolish old man wasdisconcerted. He had succeeded in amusing her sooner than he hadexpected. As I have told you, the baron is a most impulsive person, though he is poisoned with evil from his head to his heart. 

"All women are alike, " he said, and his manner suddenly changed. 

"I fancy, " said Hedwig, recovering from her merriment, "that if youaddress them as you have addressed me you will find them very muchalike indeed. "

"What good can women do in the world?" sighed Benoni, as thoughspeaking with himself. "You do nothing but harm with your coldcalculations and your bitter jests. " Hedwig was silent. "Tell me, " hecontinued presently, "if I speak soberly, by the card as it were, willyou listen to me?"

"Oh, I have said that I will listen to you!" cried Hedwig, losingpatience. 

"Hedwig von Lira, I hereby offer you my fortune, my name, and myself. I ask you to marry me of your own good will and pleasure. " Hedwig oncemore raised her brows. 

"Baron Benoni, I will not marry you, either for your fortune, yourname, or yourself, --nor for any other consideration under heaven. AndI will ask you not to address me by my Christian name. " There was along silence after this speech, and Benoni carefully lighted a secondcigarette. Hedwig would have risen and entered the house, but shefelt safer in the free air of the sunny court. As for Benoni, he hadno intention of going. 

"I suppose you are aware, countess, " he said at last, coldly eyingher, "that your father has set his heart upon our union?"

"I am aware of it. "

"But you are not aware of the consequences of your refusal. I am youronly chance of freedom. Take me, and you have the world at your feet. Refuse me, and you will languish in this hideous place so long as youraffectionate father pleases. "

"Do you know my father so little, sir, " asked Hedwig very proudly, "asto suppose that his daughter will ever yield to force?"

"It is one thing to talk of not yielding, and it is quite another tobear prolonged suffering with constancy, " returned Benoni coolly, asthough he were discussing a general principle instead of expounding toa woman the fate she had to expect if she refused to marry him. "Inever knew anyone who did not talk bravely of resisting torture untilit was applied. Oh, you will be weak at the end, countess, believe me. You are weak now; and changed, though perhaps you would be betterpleased if I did not notice it. Yes, I smile now, --I laugh. I canafford to. You can be merry over me because I love you, but I can bemerry at what you must suffer if you will not love me. Do not look soproud, countess. You know what follows pride, if the proverb liesnot. "

During this insulting speech Hedwig had risen to her feet, and in theact to go she turned and looked at him in utter scorn. She could notcomprehend the nature of a man who could so coldly threaten her. Ifever anyone of us can fathom Benoni's strange character we may hope tounderstand that phase of it along with the rest. 

He seemed as indifferent to his own mistakes and follies as to thesufferings of others. 

"Sir, " she said, "whatever may be the will of my father, I will notpermit you to discuss it, still less to hold up his anger as a threatto scare me. You need not follow me, " she added, as he rose. 

"I will follow you, whether you wish it or not, countess, " he said, fiercely; and, as she flew across the court to the door he strodeswiftly by her side, hissing his words into her ear. "I will followyou to tell you that I know more of you than you think, and I know howlittle right you have to be so proud. I know your lover. I know ofyour meetings, your comings and your goings--" They reached the door, but Benoni barred the way with his long arm, and seemed about to lay ahand upon her wrist, so that she shrank back against the heavydoorpost in an agony of horror and loathing and wounded pride. "I knowCardegna, and I knew the poor baroness who killed herself because hebasely abandoned her. Ah, you never heard the truth before? I trust itis pleasant to you. As he left her he has left you. He will never comeback. I saw him in Paris three weeks ago. I could tell tales not fitfor your ears. And for him you will die in this horrible place unlessyou consent. For him you have thrown away everything, --name, fame, andhappiness, --unless you will take all these from me. Oh, I know youwill cry out that it is untrue; but my eyes are good, though you callme old! For this treacherous boy, with his curly hair, you have lostthe only thing that makes woman human, --your reputation!" And Benonilaughed that horrid laugh of his, till the court rang again, as thoughthere were devils in every corner, and beneath every eave andeverywhere. 

People who are loud in their anger are sometimes dangerous, for it isgenuine while it lasts. People whose anger is silent are generallyeither incapable of honest wrath or cowards. But there are some in theworld whose passion shows itself in few words but strong ones, andproceeds instantly to action. 

Hedwig had stood back against the stone casing of the entrance, atfirst, overcome with the intensity of what she suffered. But as Benonilaughed she moved slowly forward till she was close to him, and onlyhis outstretched arm barred the doorway. 

"Every word you have spoken is a lie, and you know it. Let me pass, orI will kill you with my hands!"

The words came low and distinct to his excited ear, like the tollingof a passing bell. Her face must have been dreadful to see, and Benoniwas suddenly fascinated and terrified at the concentrated anger thatblazed in her blue eyes. His arm dropped to his side, and Hedwigpassed proudly through the door, in all the majesty of innocencegathering her skirts, lest they should touch his feet or any part ofhim. She never hastened her step as she ascended the broad stairswithin and went to her own little sitting-room, made gay with booksand flowers and photographs from Rome. Nor was her anger followed byany passionate outburst of tears. She sat herself down by the windowand looked out, letting the cool breeze from the open casement fan herface. 

Hedwig, too, had passed through a violent scene that day, and, havingconquered, she sat down to think over it. She reflected that Benonihad but used the same words to her that she had daily heard from herfather's lips. False as was their accusation, she submitted to hearingher father speak them, for she had no knowledge of their import, andonly thought him cruelly hard with her. But that a stranger--aboveall, a man who aspired, or pretended to aspire, to her hand--shouldattempt to usurp the same authority of speech was beyond all humanendurance. She felt sure that her father's anger would all be turnedagainst Benoni when he heard her story. 

As for what her tormentor had said of Nino, she could have killed himfor saying it, but she knew that it was a lie; for she loved Nino withall her heart, and no one can love wholly without trusting wholly. Therefore she put away the evil suggestion from herself, and loadedall its burden of treachery upon Benoni. 

How long she sat by the window, compelling her strained thoughts intoorder, no one can tell. It might have been an hour, or more, for shehad lost the account of the hours. She was roused by a knock at thedoor of her sitting-room, and at her bidding the man entered who, forthe trifling consideration of about a thousand francs, first and lastmade communication possible between Hedwig and myself. 

This man's name is Temistocle, --Themistocles, no less. All servantsare Themistocles, or Orestes, or Joseph, just as all gardeners arecalled Antonio. Perhaps he deserves some description. He is a type, short, wiry, and broad-shouldered, with a cunning eye, a long hookednose, and very plentiful black whiskers, surmounted by a perfectlybald crown. His motions are servile to the last degree, and headdresses everyone in authority as "excellency, " on the principle thatit is better to give too much titular homage than too little. He is aswily as a fox, and so long as you have money in your pocket, asfaithful as a hound and as silent as the grave. I perceive that theseare precisely the epithets at which the baron scoffed, saying that aman can be praised only by comparing him with the higher animals, orinsulted by comparison with himself and his kind. We call a man afool, an idiot, a coward, a liar, a traitor, and many other thingsapplicable only to man himself. However, I will let my descriptionstand, for it is a very good one; and Temistocle could be induced, formoney, to adapt himself to almost any description, and he certainlyhad earned, at one time or another, most of the titles I haveenumerated. 

He told me, months afterwards, that when he passed through thecourtyard, on his way to Hedwig's apartment, he found Benoni seated onthe stone bench, smoking a cigarette and gazing into space, so that hepassed close before him without being noticed. 

CHAPTER XIX

Temistocle closed the door, then opened it again, and looked out, after which he finally shut it, and seemed satisfied. He advanced withcautious tread to where Hedwig sat by the window. 

"Well? What have you done?" she inquired, without looking at him. Itis a hard thing for a proud and noble girl to be in the power of aservant. The man took Nino's letter from his pocket, and handed it toher upon his open palm. Hedwig tried hard to take it withindifference, but she acknowledges that her fingers trembled and herheart beat fast. 

"I was to deliver a message to your excellency from the oldgentleman, " said Temistocle, coming close to her and bending down. 

"Ah!" said Hedwig, beginning to break the envelope. 

"Yes, excellency. He desired me to say that it was absolutely and mostindubitably necessary that your excellency should be at the littledoor to-night at twelve o'clock. Do not fear, Signora Contessina; wecan manage it very well. "

"I do not wish to know what you advise me to fear, or not to fear, "answered Hedwig, haughtily; for she could not bear to feel that theman should counsel her or encourage her. 

"Pardon, excellency; I thought--" began Temistocle humbly; but Hedwiginterrupted him. 

"Temistocle, " she said, "I have no money to give you, as I told youyesterday. But here is another stone, like the other. Take it, andarrange this matter as best you can. "

Temistocle took the jewel and bowed to the ground, eying curiously thelittle case from which she had taken it. 

"I have thought and combined everything, " he said. "Your excellencywill see that it is best you should go alone to the staircase; for, aswe say, a mouse makes less noise than a rat. When you have descended, lock the door at the top behind you; and when you reach the foot ofthe staircase, keep that door open. I will have brought the oldgentleman by that time, and you will let me in. I shall go out by thegreat gate. "

"Why not go with me?" inquired Hedwig. 

"Because, your excellency, one person is less likely to be seen thantwo. Your excellency will let me pass you. I will mount the staircase, unlock the upper door, and change the key to the other side. Then Iwill keep watch, and if anyone comes I will lock the door and slipaway till he is gone. "

"I do not like the plan, " said Hedwig. "I would rather let myself infrom the staircase. "

"But suppose anyone were waiting on the inside, and saw you comeback?"

"That is true. Give me the keys, Temistocle, and a taper and somematches. "

"Your excellency is a paragon of courage, " replied the servant, obsequiously. "Since yesterday I have carried the keys in my pocket. Iwill bring you the taper this evening. "

"Bring it now. I wish to be ready. "

Temistocle departed on the errand. When he returned Hedwig ordered himto give a message to her father. 

"When the count comes home, ask him to see me, " she said. Temistoclebowed once more, and was gone. 

Yes, she would see her father, and tell him plainly what she hadsuffered from Benoni. She felt that no father, however cruel, wouldallow his daughter to be so treated, and she would detail theconversation to him. 

She had not been able to read Nino's letter, for she feared theservant, knowing the writing to be Italian and legible to him. Now shehastened to drink in its message of love. You cannot suppose that Iknow exactly what he said, but he certainly set forth at some lengthhis proposal that she should leave her father, and escape with herlover from the bondage in which she was now held. He told her modestlyof his success, in so far as it was necessary that she shouldunderstand his position. It must have been a very eloquent letter, forit nearly persuaded her to a step of which she had wildly dreamed, indeed, but which in her calmer moments she regarded as impossible. 

The interminable afternoon was drawing to a close, and once more shesat by the open window, regardless of the increasing cold. Suddenly itall came over her, --the tremendous importance of the step she wasabout to take, if she should take Nino at his word, and really breakfrom one life into another. The long restrained tears, that had beenbound from flowing through all Benoni's insults and her own anger, trickled silently down her cheek, no longer pale, but bright andflushed at the daring thought of freedom. 

At first it seemed far off, as seen in the magician's glass. Shelooked and saw herself as another person, acting a part only halfknown and half understood. But gradually her own individual soulentered into the figure of her imagination; her eager heart beat fast;she breathed and moved and acted in the future. She was descending thedark steps alone, listening with supernatural sense of sound for herlover's tread without. It came; the door opened, and she was in hisarms, --in those strong arms that could protect her from insult andtyranny and cruel wooing; out in the night, on the road, in Rome, married, free, and made blessed for ever. On a sudden the artificialimagery of her labouring brain fell away, and the thought crossed hermind that henceforth she must be an orphan. Her father would neverspeak to her again, or ever own for his a daughter that had done sucha deed. Like icy water poured upon a fevered body, the idea chilledher and woke her to reality. 

Did she love her father? She had loved him--yes, until she crossed hiswill. She loved him still, when she could be so horror-struck at thethought of incurring his lasting anger. Could she bear it? Could shefind in her lover all that she must renounce of a father's care and afather's affection, --stern affection, that savoured of thedespot, --but could she hurt him so?

The image of her father seemed to take another shape, and gradually toassume the form and features of the one man of the world whom shehated, converting itself little by little into Benoni. She hid herface in her hands and terror staunched the tears that had flown afreshat the thought of orphanhood. 

A knock at the door. She hastily concealed the crumpled letter. 

"Come in!" she answered, boldly; and her father, moving mechanically, with his stick in his hand, entered the room. He came as he haddismounted from his horse, in his riding boots, and his broad felt hatcaught by the same fingers that held the stick. 

"You wished to see me, Hedwig, " he said, coldly, depositing his hatupon the table. Then, when he had slowly sat himself down in anarm-chair, he added, "Here I am. " Hedwig had risen respectfully, andstood before him in the twilight. "What do you wish to say?" he askedin German. "You do not often honour your father by requesting hissociety. "

Hedwig stood one moment in silence. Her first impulse was to throwherself at his feet and implore him to let her marry Nino. The thoughtswept away for the time the remembrance of Benoni and of what she hadto tell. But a second sufficed to give her the mastery of her tongueand memory, which women seldom lose completely, even at the mostdesperate moments. 

"I desired to tell you, " she said, "that Baron Benoni took advantageof your absence to-day to insult me beyond my endurance. " She lookedboldly into her father's eyes as she spoke. 

"Ah!" said he, with great coolness. "Will you be good enough to lightone of those candles on the table, and to close the window?"

Hedwig obeyed in silence, and once more planted herself before him, her slim figure looking ghostly between the fading light of thedeparting day and the yellow flame of the candle. 

"You need not assume this theatrical air, " said Lira, calmly. "Ipresume you mean that Baron Benoni asked you to marry him?"

"Yes, that is one thing, and is an insult in itself, " replied Hedwig, without changing her position. "I suspect that it is the principalthing, " remarked the count. "Very good; he asked you to marry him. Hehas my full authority to do so. What then?"

"You are my father, " answered Hedwig, standing like a statue beforehim, "and you have the right to offer me whom you please for ahusband, but you have no authority to allow me to be wantonlyinsulted. "

"I think that you are out of your mind, " said the count, withimperturbable equanimity. "You grant that I may propose a suitor toyou, and you call it a wanton insult when that suitor respectfullyasks the honour of your hand, merely because he is not young enough tosuit your romantic tastes, which have been fostered by this wretchedsouthern air. It is unfortunate that my health requires me to residein Italy. Had you enjoyed an orderly Prussian education, you wouldhave held different views in regard to filial duty. Refuse BaronBenoni as often as you like. I will stay here, and so will he, Ifancy, until you change your mind. I am not tired of this lordlymountain scenery, and my health improves daily. We can pass the summerand winter, and more summers and winters, very comfortably here. Ifthere is anything you would like to have brought from Rome, inform me, and I will satisfy any reasonable request. "

"The baron has already had the audacity to inform me that you wouldkeep me a prisoner until I should marry him, " said Hedwig; and hervoice trembled as she remembered how Benoni had told her so. 

"I doubt not that Benoni, who is a man of consummate tact, hinteddelicately that he would not desist from pressing his suit. You, wellknowing my determination, and carried away by your evil temper, havemagnified into a threat what he never intended as such. Pray let mehear no more about these fancied insults. " The old man smiled grimlyat his keen perception. 

"You shall hear me, nevertheless, " said Hedwig, in a low voice, comingclose to the table and resting one hand upon it as though for support. 

"My daughter, " said the count, "I desire you to abandon this highlytheatrical and melodramatic tone. I am not to be imposed upon. "

"Baron Benoni did not confine himself to the course you describe. Hesaid many things to me that I did not understand, but I comprehendedtheir import. He began by making absurd speeches, at which I laughed. Then he asked me to marry him, as I had long known he would do as soonas you gave him the opportunity. I refused his offer. Then heinsisted, saying that you, sir, had determined on this marriage, andwould keep me a close prisoner here until the torture of the situationbroke down my strength. I assured him that I would never yield toforce. Then he broke out angrily, telling me to my face that I hadlost everything--name, fame, and honour, --how, I cannot tell; but hesaid those words; and he added that I could regain my reputation onlyby consenting to marry him. "

The old count had listened at first with a sarcastic smile, then withincreased attention. Finally, as Hedwig repeated the shameful insult, his brave old blood boiled up in his breast, and he sat gripping thetwo arms of his chair fiercely, while his gray eyes shot fire frombeneath the shaggy brows. 

"Hedwig, " he cried, hoarsely, "are you speaking the truth? Did he saythose words?"

"Yes, my father, and more like them. Are you surprised?" she askedbitterly. "You have said them yourself to me. "

The old man's rage rose furiously, and he struggled to his feet. Hewas stiff with riding and rheumatism, but he was too angry to sitstill. 

"I? Yes, I have tried to show you what might have happened, and towarn you and frighten you, as you should be frightened. Yes, and I wasright, for you shall not drag my name in the dirt. But anotherman--Benoni!" He could not speak for his wrath, and his tall figuremoved rapidly about the room, his heart seeking expression in action. He looked like some forgotten creature of harm, suddenly galvanisedinto destructive life. It was well that Benoni was not within reach. 

Hedwig stood calmly by the table, proud in her soul that her fathershould be roused to such fury. The old man paused in his walk, came toher, and with his hand turned her face to the light, gazing savagelyinto her eyes. 

"You never told me a lie, " he growled out. 

"Never, " she said, boldly, as she faced him scornfully. He knew hisown temper in his child, and was satisfied. The soldier's habit ofself-control was strong in him, and the sardonic humour of his natureserved as a garment to the thoughts he harboured. 

"It appears, " he said, "that I am to spend the remainder of anhonourable life in fighting with a pack of hounds. I nearly killedyour old acquaintance, the Signor Professore Cardegna, thisafternoon. " Hedwig staggered back, and turned pale. 

"What! Is he wounded?" she gasped out, pressing her hand to his side. 

"Ha! That touches you almost as closely as Benoni's insult, " he said, savagely. "I am glad of it. I repent me, and wish that I had killedhim. We met on the road, and he had the impertinence to ask me foryour hand, --I am sick of these daily proposals of marriage; and then Iinquired if he meant to insult me. "

Hedwig leaned heavily on the table in an agony of suspense. 

"The fellow answered that if I were insulted he was ready to fightthen and there, in the road, with my pistols. He is no coward, yourlover, --I will say that. The end of it was that I came home and he didnot. "

Hedwig sank into the chair that her father had left, and hid her face. 

"Oh, you have killed him!" she moaned. 

"No, " said the count shortly; "I did not touch a hair of his head. Buthe rode away toward Trevi. " Hedwig breathed again. "Are yousatisfied?" he asked, with a hard smile, enjoying the terror he hadexcited. 

"Oh, how cruel you are, my father!" she said, in a broken voice. 

"I tell you that if I could cure you of your insane passion for thissinger fellow, I would be as cruel as the Inquisition, " retorted thecount. "Now listen to me. You will not be troubled any longer withBenoni, --the beast! I will teach him a lesson of etiquette. You neednot appear at dinner to-night. But you are not to suppose that ourresidence here is at an end. When you have made up your mind to actsensibly, and to forget the Signor Cardegna, you shall return tosociety, where you may select a husband of your own position andfortune, if you choose; or you may turn Romanist, and go into aconvent, and devote yourself to good works and idolatry, or anythingelse. I do not pretend to care what becomes of you, so long as youshow any decent respect for your name. But if you persist in piningand moaning and starving yourself, because I will not allow you toturn dancer and marry a strolling player, you will have to remainhere. I am not such pleasant company when I am bored, I can tell you, and my enthusiasm for the beauties of nature is probably transitory. "

"I can bear anything if you will remove Benoni, " said Hedwig, quietly, as she rose from her seat. But the pressure of the iron keys that shehad hidden in her bosom gave her a strange sensation. 

"Never fear, " said the count, taking his hat from the table. "Youshall be amply avenged of Benoni and his foul tongue. I may not lovemy daughter, but no one shall insult her. I will have a word with himthis evening. "

"I thank you for that, at least, " said Hedwig, as he moved to thedoor. 

"Do not mention it, " said he, and put his hand on the lock. 

A sudden impulse seized Hedwig. She ran swiftly to him, and claspedher hands upon his arm. 

"Father?" she cried, pleadingly. 

"What?"

"Father, do you love me?" He hesitated one moment. 

"No, " he said, sternly; "you disobey me"; and he went out in roughhaste. The door closed behind him, and she was left standing alone. What could she do, poor child? For months he had tormented her andpersecuted her, and now she had asked him plainly if she still held aplace in his heart, and he had coldly denied it. 

A gentle, tender maiden, love-sick and mind-sick, yearning sopiteously for a little mercy, or sympathy, or kindness, and treatedlike a mutinous soldier, because she loved so honestly and purely, --isit any wonder that her hand went to her bosom and clasped the cold, hard keys that promised her life and freedom? I think not. I have nopatience with young women who allow themselves to be carried away byan innate bad taste and love for effect, quarrelling with the peacefuldestiny that a kind Providence has vouchsafed them, and with anexistence which they are too dull to make interesting to themselves orto anyone else; finally making a desperate and foolish dash atnotoriety by a runaway marriage with the first scamp they can find, and repenting in poverty and social ostracism the romance theyconceived in wealth and luxury. They deserve their fate. But when asensitive girl is motherless, cut off from friends and pleasures, presented with the alternative of solitude or marriage with somedetested man, or locked up to forget a dream which was half realisedand very sweet, then the case is different. If she breaks her bonds, and flies to the only loving heart she knows, forgive her, and prayHeaven to have mercy on her, for she takes a fearful leap into thedark. 

Hedwig felt the keys, and took them from her dress, and pressed themto her cheek, and her mind was made up. She glanced at the small giltclock, and saw that the hands pointed to seven. Five hours were beforeher in which to make her preparations, such as they could be. 

In accordance with her father's orders, given when he left her, Temistocle served her dinner in her sitting-room; and the uncertaintyof the night's enterprise demanded that she should eat something, lest her strength should fail at the critical moment. Temistoclevolunteered the information that her father had gone to the baron'sapartment, and had not been seen since. She heard in silence, and badethe servant leave her as soon as he had ministered to her wants. Thenshe wrote a short letter to her father, telling him that she had lefthim, since he had no place for her in his heart, and that she had goneto the one man who seemed ready both to love and to protect her. Thismissive she folded, sealed, and laid in a prominent place upon thetable addressed to the count. 

She made a small bundle, --very neatly, for she is clever with herfingers, --and put on a dark travelling dress, in the folds of whichshe sewed such jewels as were small and valuable and her own. Shewould take nothing that her father had given her. In all this shedisplayed perfect coolness and foresight. 

The castle became intensely quiet as the evening advanced. She satwatching the clock. At five minutes before midnight she took herbundle and her little shoes in her hand, blew out her candle, andsoftly left the room. 

CHAPTER XX

I need not tell you how I passed all the time from; Nino's leaving meuntil he came back in the evening, just as I could see from my windowthat the full moon was touching the tower of the castle. I sat lookingout, expecting him, and I was the most anxious professor that everfound himself in a ridiculous position. Temistocle had come, and youknow what had passed between us, and how we had arranged the plan ofthe night. Most heartily did I wish myself in the little amphitheatreof my lecture-room at the University, instead of being pledged to thiswild plot of my boy's invention. But there was no drawing back. I hadbeen myself to the little stable next door, where I had kept mydonkey, and visited him daily since my arrival, and I had made surethat I could have him at a moment's notice by putting on the cumbroussaddle. Moreover, I had secretly made a bundle of my effects, and hadsucceeded in taking it unobserved to the stall, and I tied it to thepommel. I also told my landlady that I was going away in the morningwith the young gentleman who had visited me, and who, I said, was theengineer who was going to make a new road to the Serra. This was notquite true; but lies that hurt no one are not lies at all, as you allknow, and the curiosity of the old woman was satisfied. I also paidfor my lodging, and gave her a franc for herself, which pleased hervery much. I meant to steal away about ten o'clock, or as soon as Ihad seen Nino and communicated to him the result of my interview withTemistocle. 

The hours seemed endless, in spite of my preparations, which occupiedsome time; so I went out when I had eaten my supper, and visited myass, and gave him a little bread that was left, thinking it wouldstrengthen him for the journey. Then I came back to my room, andwatched. Just as the moonlight was shooting over the hill, Nino rodeup the street. I knew him in the dusk by his broad hat, and alsobecause he was humming a little tune through his nose, as he generallydoes. But he rode past my door without looking up, for he meant to puthis mule in the stable for a rest. 

At last he came in, still humming, and apologised for the delay, saying he had stopped a few minutes at the inn to get some supper. Itcould not have been a very substantial meal that he ate in that shorttime. 

"What did the man say?" was his first question, as he sat down. 

"He said it should be managed as I desired, " I answered. "Of courseI did not mention you. Temistocle--that is his name--will come atmidnight, and take you to the door. There you will find thisinamorata, this lady-love of yours, for whom you are about to turnthe world upside down. "

"What will you do yourself, Sor Cornelio?" he asked, smiling. 

"I will go now and get my donkey, and quietly ride up the valley tothe Serra di Sant' Antonio, " I said. "I am sure that the signorinawill be more at her ease if I accompany you. I am a very properperson, you see. "

"Yes, " said Nino, pensively, "you are very proper. And besides, youcan be a witness of the civil marriage. "

"Diavolo!" I cried, "a marriage! I had not thought of that. "

"Blood of a dog!" exclaimed Nino, "what on earth did you think of?" Hewas angry all in a moment. 

"Piano, --do not disquiet yourself, my boy. I had not realised that thewedding was so near, --that is all. Of course you will be married inRome, as soon as ever we get there. "

"We shall be married in Ceprano to-morrow night, by the sindaco, orthe mayor, or whatever civil bishop they support in that God-forsakenNeopolitan town, " said Nino, with great determination. 

"Oh, very well; manage it as you like. Only be careful that it isproperly done, and have it registered, " I added. "Meanwhile, I willstart. "

"You need not go yet, caro mio; it is not nine o'clock. "

"How far do you think I ought to go, Nino?" I inquired. To tell thetruth, the idea of going up the Serra alone was not so attractive inthe evening as it had been in the morning light. I thought it would bevery dark among those trees, and I had still a great deal of moneysewn between my waistcoats. 

"Oh, you need not go so very far, " said Nino. "Three or four milesfrom the town will be enough. I will wait in the street below, aftereleven. "

We sat in silence for some time afterwards, and if I was thinking ofthe gloomy ride before me, I am sure that Nino was thinking of Hedwig. Poor fellow! I dare say he was anxious enough to see her, after beingaway for two months, and spending so many hours almost within herreach. He sat low in his chair, and the dismal rays of the solitarytallow candle cast deep shadows on his thoughtful face. Weary, perhaps, with waiting and with long travel, yet not sad, but veryhopeful he looked. No fatigue could destroy the strong, manlyexpression of his features, and even in that squalid room, by themiserable light, dressed in his plain gray clothes, he was still theman of success, who could hold thousands in the suspense of listeningto his slightest utterance. Nino is a wonderful man, and I amconvinced that there is more in him than music, which is well enoughwhen one can be as great as he, but is not all the world holds. I amsure that massive head of his was not hammered so square and broad bythe great hands that forge the thunderbolts of nations, merely that heshould be a tenor and an actor, and give pleasure to his fellow-men. Isee there the power and the strength of a broader mastery than thatwhich bends the ears of a theatre audience. One day we may see it. Itneeds the fire of hot times to fuse the elements of greatness in thecrucible of revolution. There is not such another head in all Italy asNino's that I have ever seen, and I have seen the best in Rome. Helooked so grand, as he sat there, thinking over the future. I am notpraising his face for its beauty; there is little enough of that, aswomen might judge. And besides, you will laugh at my ravings, and saythat a singer is a singer, and nothing more, for all his life. Well, we shall see in twenty years; you will, --perhaps I shall not. 

"Nino, " I asked, irrelevantly, following my own train of reflection, "have you ever thought of anything but music--and love?" He rousedhimself from his reverie, and stared at me. 

"How should you be able to guess my thoughts?" he asked at last. 

"People who have lived much together often read each other's minds. What were you thinking of?" Nino sighed, and hesitated a moment beforehe answered. 

"I was thinking, " he said, "that a musician's destiny, even thehighest, is a poor return for a woman's love. "

"You see: I was thinking of you, and wondering whether, after all, youwill always be a singer. "

"That is singular, " he answered slowly. "I was reflecting how utterlysmall my success on the stage will look to me when I have marriedHedwig von Lira. "

"There is a larger stage, Nino mio, than yours. "

"I know it, " said he, and fell back in his chair again, dreaming. 

I fancy that at any other time we might have fallen into conversationand speculated on the good old-fashioned simile which likens life to acomedy, or a tragedy, or a farce. But the moment was ill-chosen, andwe were both silent, being much preoccupied with the immediate future. 

A little before ten I made up my mind to start. I glanced once moreround the room to see if I had left anything. Nino was still sittingin his chair, his head bent, and his eyes staring at the floor. 

"Nino, " I said, "I am going now. Here is another candle, which youwill need before long, for these tallow things are very short. "Indeed, the one that burned was already guttering low in the old brasscandlestick. Nino rose and shook himself. 

"My dear friend, " he said, taking me by both hands, "you know that Iam grateful to you. I thank you and thank you again with all my heart. Yes, you ought to go now, for the time is approaching. We shall joinyou, if all goes well, by one o'clock. "

"But, Nino, if you do not come?"

"I will come, alone, or with her. If--if I should not be with you bytwo in the morning, go on alone, and get out of the way. It will bebecause I am caught by that old Prussian devil. Good-bye. " He embracedme affectionately, and I went out. A quarter of an hour later I wasout of the town, picking my way, with my little donkey, over thedesolate path that leads toward the black Serra. The clatter of thebeast's hoofs over the stones kept time with the beatings of my heart, and I pressed my thin legs close to his thinner sides for company. 

When Nino was left alone, --and all this I know from him, --he sat againin the chair and meditated; and although the time of the greatestevent in his life was very near, he was so much absorbed that he wasstartled when he looked at his watch and found that it was half-pasteleven. He had barely time to make his preparations. His man waswarned, but was waiting near the inn, not knowing where he wasrequired, as Nino himself had not been to ascertain the position ofthe lower door, fearing lest he might be seen by Benoni. He nowhastily extinguished the light and let himself out of the housewithout noise. He found his countryman ready with the mules, orderedhim to come with him, and returned to the house, instructing him tofollow and wait at a short distance from the door he would enter. Muffled in his cloak, he stood in the street awaiting the messengerfrom Hedwig. 

The crazy old clock of the church tolled the hour, and a man wrappedin a nondescript garment, between a cloak and an overcoat, stole alongthe moonlit street to where Nino stood, in front of my lodging. 

"Temistocle!" called Nino, in a low voice, as the fellow hesitated. 

"Excellency"--answered the man, and then drew back. "You are not theSignor Grandi!" he cried, in alarm. 

"It is the same thing, " replied Nino. "Let us go. "

"But how is this?" objected Temistocle, seeing a new development. "Itwas the Signor Grandi whom I was to conduct. " Nino was silent, butthere was a crisp sound in the air as he took a banknote from hispocket-book. "Diavolo!" muttered the servant, "perhaps it may beright, after all. " Nino gave him the note. 

"That is my passport, " said he. 

"I have doubts, " answered Temistocle, taking it, nevertheless, andexamining it by the moonlight. "It has no _visa_, " he added, with acunning leer. Nino gave him another. Then Temistocle had no moredoubts. 

"I will conduct your excellency, " he said. They moved away, andTemistocle was so deaf that he did not hear the mules and the tramp ofthe man who led them not ten paces behind him. 

Passing round the rock they found themselves in the shadow; a factwhich Nino noted with much satisfaction, for he feared lest someonemight be keeping late hours in the castle. The mere noise of the muleswould attract no attention in a mountain town where the country peoplestart for their distant work at all hours of the day and night. Theycame to the door. Nino called softly to the man with the mules to waitin the shadow, and Temistocle knocked at the door. The key ground inthe lock from within, but the hands that held it seemed weak. Nino'sheart beat fast. 

"Temistocle!" cried Hedwig's trembling voice. 

"What is the matter, your excellency?" asked the servant through thekeyhole, not forgetting his manners. 

"Oh, I cannot turn the key! What _shall_ I do?"

Nino heard, and pushed the servant aside. 

"Courage, my dear lady, " he said, aloud, that she might know hisvoice. Hedwig appeared to make a frantic effort, and a little sound ofpain escaped her as she hurt her hands. 

"Oh, what _shall_ I do!" she cried, piteously. "I locked it lastnight, and now I cannot turn the key!"

Nino pressed with all his weight against the door. Fortunately it wasstrong, or he would have broken it in, and it would have fallen uponher. But it opened outward, and was heavily bound with iron. Ninogroaned. 

"Has your excellency a taper?" asked Temistocle suddenly, forcing hishead between Nino's body and the door, in order to be heard. 

"Yes. I put it out. "

"And matches?" he asked again. 

"Yes. "

"Then let your excellency light the taper, and drop some of theburning wax on the end of the key. It will be like oil. " There was asilence. The key was withdrawn, and a light appeared through the holewhere it had been. Nino instantly fastened his eye to the aperture, hoping to catch a glimpse of Hedwig. But he could not see anythingsave two white hands trying to cover the key with wax. He withdrew hiseye quickly, as the hands pushed the key through again. 

Again the lock groaned, --a little sob of effort, another trial, andthe bolts flew back to their sockets. The prudent Temistocle, who didnot wish to be a witness of what followed, pretended to exert giganticstrength in pulling the door open, and Nino, seeing him, drew back amoment to let him pass. 

"Your excellency need only knock at the upper door, " he said toHedwig, "and I will open. I will watch, lest anyone should enter fromabove. "

"You may watch till the rising of the dead, " thought Nino, and Hedwigstood aside on the narrow step, while Temistocle went up. One instantmore, and Nino was at her feet, kissing the hem of her dress, andspeechless with happiness, for his tears of joy flowed fast. 

Tenderly Hedwig bent to him, and laid her two hands on his bare head, pressing down the thick and curly hair with a trembling, passionatemotion. 

"Signor Cardegna, you must not kneel there, --nay, sir, I know you loveme! Would I have come to you else? Give me your hand--now--do not kissit so hard--no--Oh, Nino, my own dear Nino--"

What should have followed in her gentle speech is lacking, for manyand most sweet reasons. I need not tell you that the taper wasextinguished, and they stood locked in each other's arms against theopen door, with only the reflection of the moon from the housesopposite to illuminate their meeting. 

There was and is to me something divinely perfect and godlike in thesetwo virgin hearts, each so new to their love, and each so true andspotless of all other. I am old to say sweet things of loving, but Icannot help it; for though I never was as they are, I have loved muchin my time. Like our own dear Leopardi, I loved not the woman, but theangel which is the type of all women, and whom not finding I perishedmiserably as to my heart. But in my breast there is still the templewhere the angel dwelt, and the shrine is very fragrant still with thedivine scent of the heavenly roses that were about her. I think, also, that all those who love in this world must have such a holy place ofworship in their hearts. Sometimes the kingdom of the soul and thepalace of the body are all Love's, made beautiful and rich with rareofferings of great constancy and faith; and all the countlesscreations of transcendent genius, and all the vast aspirations offar-reaching power, go up in reverent order to do homage at Love'saltar, before they come forth, like giants, to make the great worldtremble and reel in its giddy grooves. 

And with another it is different. The world is not his; he is theworld's, and all his petty doings have its gaudy stencil blotched uponthem. Yet haply even he has a heart, and somewhere in its fruitlessfallows stands a poor ruin, that never was of much dignity at itsbest, --poor and broken, and half choked with weeds and briers; buteven thus the weeds are fragrant herbs, and the briers are wild roses, of few and misshapen petals, but sweet, nevertheless. For this ruinwas once a shrine too, that his mean hands and sterile soul did trymost ineffectually to build up as a shelter for all that was everworthy in him. 

Now, therefore, I say, Love, and love truly and long, --even for ever;and if you can do other things well, do them; but if not, at leastlearn to do that, for it is a very gentle thing and sweet in thelearning. Some of you laugh at me, and say, Behold, this old-fashioneddriveller, who does not even know that love is no longer in thefashion! By Saint Peter, Heaven will soon be out of the fashion too, and Messer Satanas will rake in the just and the unjust alike, so thathe need no longer fast on Fridays, having a more savoury larder! Andno doubt some of you will say that hell is really so antiquated thatit should be put in the museum at the University of Rome, for acurious old piece of theological furniture. Truth! it is a wonder itis not worn out with digesting the tough morsels it gets, when peoplelike you are finally gotten rid of from this world! But it is made ofgood material, and it will last, never fear! This is not the gospel ofpeace, but it is the gospel of truth. 

Loving hearts and gentle souls shall rule the world some day, for allyour pestiferous fashions; and old as I am, --I do not mean aged, butwell on in years, --I believe in love still, and I always will. It istrue that it was not given to me to love as Nino loves Hedwig, forNino is even now a stronger, sterner man than I. His is the naturethat can never do enough; his the hands that never tire for her;his the art that would surpass, for her, the stubborn bounds ofpossibility. He is never weary of striving to increase her joy of him. His philosophy is but that. No quibbles of "being" and "not being, " orwretched speculations concerning the object of existence; he has foundthe true unity of unities, and he holds it fast. 

Meanwhile, you object that I am not proceeding with my task, andtelling you more facts, recounting more conversations, and paintingmore descriptions. Believe me, this one fact, that to love well is tobe all man can be, is greater than all the things men have everlearned and classified in dictionaries. It is, moreover, the only factthat has consistently withstood the ravages of time and socialrevolution; it is the wisdom that has opened, as if by magic, thetreasures of genius, of goodness, and of all greatness, for everyoneto see; it is the vital elixir that has made men of striplings, andgiants of cripples, and heroes of the poor in heart though great inspirit. Nino is an example; for he was but a boy, yet he acted like aman; a gifted artist in a great city, courted by the noblest, yet hekept his faith. 

But when I have taken breath I will tell you what he and Hedwig saidto each other at the gate, and whether at the last she went with him, or stayed in dismal Fillettino for her father's sake. 

CHAPTER XXI

"Let us sit upon the step and talk, " said Hedwig, gently disengagingherself from his arms. 

"The hour is advancing, and it is damp here, my love. You will becold, " said Nino, protesting against delay as best he could. 

"No; and I must talk to you. " She sat down, but Nino pulled off hiscloak and threw it round her. She motioned him to sit beside her, andraised the edge of the heavy mantle with her hand. "I think it is bigenough, " said she. 

"I think so, " returned Nino; and so the pair sat side by side and handin hand, wrapped in the same garment, deep in the shadow of the rockydoorway. "You got my letter, dearest?" asked Nino, hoping to remindher of his proposal. 

"Yes, it reached me safely. Tell me, Nino, have you thought of me inall this time?" she asked, in her turn; and there was the joy of theanswer already in the question. 

"As the earth longs for the sun, my love, through all the dark night. You have never been out of my thoughts. You know that I went away tofind you in Paris, and I went to London, too; and everywhere I sang toyou, hoping you might be somewhere in the great audiences. But younever went to Paris at all. When I got Professor Grandi's lettersaying that he had discovered you, I had but one night more to sing, and then I flew to you. "

"And now you have found me, " said Hedwig, looking lovingly up to himthrough the shadow. 

"Yes, dear one; and I have come but just in time. You are in greattrouble now, and I am here to save you from it all. Tell me, what isit all about?"

"Ah, Nino dear, it is very terrible. My father declared I must marryBaron Benoni, or end my days here, in this dismal castle. " Nino groundhis teeth, and drew her even closer to him, so that her head rested onhis shoulder. 

"Infamous wretch!" he muttered. 

"Hush, Nino, " said Hedwig gently; "he is my father. "

"Oh, I mean Benoni, of course, " exclaimed Nino quickly. 

"Yes, dear, of course you do, " Hedwig responded. "But my father haschanged his mind. He no longer wishes me to marry the Jew. "

"Why is that, sweetheart?"

"Because Benoni was very rude to me to-day, and I told my father, whosaid he should leave the house at once. "

"I hope he will kill the hound!" cried Nino, with rising anger. "And Iam glad your father has still the decency to protect you from insult. "

"My father is very unkind, Nino mio, but he is an officer and agentleman. "

"Oh, I know what that means, --a gentleman! Fie on your gentleman! Doyou love me less, Hedwig, because I am of the people?"

For all answer Hedwig threw her arms round his neck, passionately. 

"Tell me, love, would you think better of me if I were noble?"

"Ah, Nino, how most unkind! Oh, no: I love you, and for your sake Ilove the people, --the strong, brave people, whose man you are. "

"God bless you, dear, for that, " he answered tenderly. "But say, willyour father take you back to Rome, now that he has sent away Benoni?"

"No, he will not. He swears that I shall stay here until I can forgetyou. " The fair head rested again on his shoulder. 

"It appears to me that your most high and noble father has amazinglydone perjury in his oath, " remarked Nino, resting his hand on herhair, from which the thick black veil that had muffled it had slippedback. "What do you think, love?"

"I do not know, " replied Hedwig, in a low voice. 

"Why, dear, you have only to close this door behind you, and you maylaugh at your prison and your jailer!"

"Oh, I could not, Nino; and besides, I am weak, and cannot walk veryfar. And we should have to walk very far, you know. "

"You, darling? Do you think I would not and could not bear you fromhere to Rome in these arms?" As he spoke he lifted her bodily from thestep. 

"Oh!" she cried, half frightened, half thrilled, "how strong you are, Nino!"

"Not I; it is my love. But I have beasts close by, waiting even now;good stout mules, that will think you are only a little silverbutterfly that has flitted down from the moon for them to carry. "

"Have you done that, dear?" she asked, doubtfully, while her heartleaped at the thought. "But my father has horses, " she added, on asudden, in a very anxious voice. 

"Never fear, my darling. No horse could scratch a foothold in theplace where our mules are as safe as in a meadow. Come, dear heart, let us be going. " But Hedwig hung her head, and did not stir. "What isit, Hedwig?" he asked, bending down to her and softly stroking herhair. "Are you afraid of me?"

"No, --oh no! Not of you, Nino, --never of you!" She pushed her faceclose against him, very lovingly. 

"What then, dear? Everything is ready for us. Why should we wait?"

"Is it quite right, Nino?"

"Ah, yes, love, it is right, --the rightest right that ever was! Howcan such love as ours be wrong? Have I not to-day implored your fatherto relent and let us marry? I met him in the road--"

"He told me, dear. It was brave of you. And he frightened me by makingme think he had killed you. Oh, I was so frightened, you do not know!"

"Cruel--" Nino checked the rising epithet. "He is your father, dear, and I must not speak my mind. But since he will not let you go, whatwill you do? Will you cease to love me, at his orders?"

"Oh, Nino, never, never, never!"

"But will you stay here, to die of solitude and slow torture?" Hepleaded passionately. 

"I--I suppose so, Nino, " she said, in a choking sob. 

"Now, by Heaven, you shall not!" He clasped her in his arms, raisingher suddenly to her feet. Her head fell back upon his shoulder, andhe could see her turn pale to the very lips, for his sight wassoftened to the gloom, and her eyes shone like stars of fire at himfrom beneath the half-closed lids. But the faint glory of cominghappiness was already on her face, and he knew that the last fight wasfought for love's mastery. 

"Shall we ever part again, love?" he whispered, close to her. Sheshook her head, her starry eyes still fastened on his. 

"Then come, my own dear one, --come, " and he gently drew her with him. He glanced, naturally enough, at the step where they had sat, andsomething dark caught his eye just above it. Holding her hand in oneof his, as though fearful lest she should escape him, he stoopedquickly and snatched the thing from the stair with the other. It wasHedwig's little bundle. 

"What have you here?" he asked. "Oh, Hedwig, you said you would notcome?" he added, half laughing, as he discovered what it was. 

"I was not sure that I should like you, Nino, " she said, as he againput his arm about her. Hedwig started violently. "What is that?" sheexclaimed, in a terrified whisper. 

"What, love?"

"The noise! Oh, Nino, there is someone on the staircase, coming down. Quick, --quick! Save me, for love's sake!"

But Nino had heard, too, the clumsy but rapid groping of heavy feet onthe stairs above, far up in the winding stone steps, but momentarilycoming nearer. Instantly he pushed Hedwig out to the street, tossingthe bundle on the ground, withdrew the heavy key, shut the door, anddouble turned the lock from the outside, removing the key again atonce. Nino is a man who acts suddenly and infallibly in greatemergencies. He took Hedwig in his arms, and ran with her to where themules were standing, twenty yards away. 

The stout countryman from Subiaco, who had spent some years inbreaking stones out of consideration for the Government, as a generalconfession of the inaccuracy of his views regarding foreigners, was byno means astonished when he saw Nino appear with a woman in his arms. Together they seated her on one of the mules, and ran beside her, forthere was no time for Nino to mount. They had to pass the door, andthrough all its oaken thickness they could hear the curses andimprecations of someone inside, and the wood and iron shook withrepeated blows and kicks. The quick-witted muleteer saw the bundlelying where Nino had tossed it, and he picked it up as he ran. 

Both Nino and Hedwig recognised Benoni's voice, but neither spoke asthey hurried up the street into the bright moonlight, she riding andNino running as he led the other beast at a sharp trot. In fiveminutes they were out of the little town, and Nino, looking back, could see that the broad white way behind them was clear of allpursuers. Then he himself mounted, and the countryman trotted by hisside. 

Nino brought his mule close to Hedwig's. She was an accomplishedhorsewoman, and had no difficulty in accommodating herself to therough country saddle. Their hands met, and the mules, long accustomedto each other's company, moved so evenly that the gentle bond was notbroken. But although Hedwig's fingers twined lovingly with his, andshe often turned and looked at him from beneath her hanging veil, shewas silent for a long time. Nino respected her mood, half guessingwhat she felt, and no sound was heard save an occasional grunt fromthe countryman as he urged the beasts, and the regular clatter of thehoofs on the stony road. 

To tell the truth, Nino was overwhelmed with anxiety; for his quickwits had told him that Benoni, infuriated by the check he hadreceived, would lose no time in remounting the stairs, saddling ahorse, and following them. If only they could reach the steeper partof the ravine they could bid defiance to any horse that ever galloped, for Benoni must inevitably come to grief if he attempted a pursuitinto the desolate Serra. He saw that Hedwig had not apprehended thedanger, when once the baron was stopped by the door, conceiving inher heart the impression that he was a prisoner in his own trap. Nevertheless, they urged the beasts onward hotly, if one may use theword of the long, heavy trot of a mountain mule. The sturdy countrymannever paused or gasped for breath, keeping pace in a steady, determined fashion. 

But they need not have been disturbed, for Hedwig's guess was nearerthe truth than Nino's reasoning. They knew it later, when Temistoclefound them in Rome, and I may as well tell you how it happened. Whenhe reached the head of the staircase, he took the key from the oneside to the other, locked the door, as agreed, and sat down to waitfor Hedwig's rap. He indeed suspected that it would never come, for hehad only pretended not to see the mules; but the prospect of furtherbribes made him anxious not to lose sight of his mistress, andcertainly not to disobey her, in case she really returned. Thestaircase opened into the foot of the tower, a broad stone chamber, with unglazed windows. 

Temistocle sat himself down to wait on an old bench that had been putthere, and the light of the full moon made the place as bright as day. Now the lock on the door was rusty, like the one below, and creakedloudly every time it was turned. But Temistocle fancied it would notbe heard in the great building, and felt quite safe. Sitting there, henodded and fell asleep, tired with the watching. 

Benoni had probably passed a fiery half hour with the count. But Ihave no means of knowing what was said on either side; at all events, he was in the castle still, and, what is more, he was awake. WhenHedwig opened the upper door and closed it behind her, the sound wasdistinctly audible to his quick ears, and he probably listened andspeculated, and finally yielded to his curiosity. 

However that may have been, he found Temistocle asleep in the towerbasement, saw the key in the lock, guessed whence the noise had come, and turned it. The movement woke Temistocle, who started to his feet, and recognised the tall figure of the baron just entering the door. Too much confused for reflection, he called aloud, and the barondisappeared down the stairs. Temistocle listened at the top, hearddistinctly the shutting and locking of the lower door, and a momentafterwards Benoni's voice, swearing in every language at once, cameechoing up. 

"They have escaped, " said Temistocle to himself. "If I am notmistaken, I had better do the same. " With that he locked the upperdoor, put the key in his pocket, and departed on tiptoe. Having hishat and his overcoat with him, and his money in his pocket, hedetermined to leave the baron shut up in the staircase. He softly leftthe castle by the front gate, of which he knew the tricks, and he wasnot heard of for several weeks afterwards. As for Benoni, he wascompletely caught, and probably spent the remainder of the night intrying to wake the inmates of the building. So you see that Nino neednot have been so much disturbed after all. 

While these things were happening Nino and Hedwig got fairly away, andno one but a mountaineer of the district could possibly have overtakenthem. Just as they reached the place where the valley suddenly narrowsto a gorge, the countryman spoke. It was the first word that had beenuttered by any of the party in an hour, so great had been their hasteand anxiety. 

"I see a man with a beast, " he said, shortly. 

"So do I, " answered Nino. "I expect to meet a friend here. " Then heturned to Hedwig. "Dear one, " he said, "we are to have a companionnow, who says he is a very proper person. "

"A companion?" repeated Hedwig, anxiously. 

"Yes. We are to have the society of no less a person than theProfessor Cornelio Grandi, of the University of Rome. He will go withus, and be a witness. "

"Yes, " said Hedwig, expecting more, "a witness--"

"A witness of our marriage, dear lady; I trust to-morrow, --or to-day, since midnight is past. " He leaned far over his saddle-bow, as themules clambered up the rough place. Her hand went out to him, and hetook it. They were so near that I could see them. He dropped the reinsand bared his head, and so, riding, he bent himself still farther, andpressed his lips upon her hand: and that was all the marriage contractthat was sealed between them. But it was enough. 

There I sat, upon a stone in the moonlight, just below the trees, waiting for them. And there I had been for two mortal hours or more, left to meditate upon the follies of professors in general and ofmyself in particular. I was beginning to wonder whether Nino wouldcome at all, and I can tell you I was glad to see the little caravan. Ugh! it is an ugly place to be alone in. 

They rode up, and I went forward to meet them. 

"Nino mio, " said I, "you have made me pass a terrible time here. ThankHeaven, you are come; and the contessina, too! Your most humbleservant, signorina. " I bowed low and Hedwig bent a little forward, butthe moon was just behind her, and I could not see her face. 

"I did not think we should meet so soon, Signor Grandi. But I am veryglad. " There was a sweet shyness in the little speech that touched me. I am sure she was afraid that it was not yet quite right, or at leastthat there should be some other lady in the party. 

"Courage, Messer Cornelio, " said Nino. "Mount your donkey, and let usbe on our way. "

"Is not the contessina tired?" I inquired. "You might surely rest alittle here. "

"Caro mio, " answered Nino, "we must be safe at the top of the passbefore we rest. We were so unfortunate as to wake his excellency theBaron Benoni out of some sweet dream or other, and perhaps he is notfar behind us. "

An encounter with the furious Jew was not precisely attractive to me, and I was on my donkey before you could count a score. I suggested toNino that it would be wiser if the countryman led the way through thewoods, and I followed him. Then the contessina would be behind me, and Nino would bring up the rear. It occurred to me that the mulesmight outstrip my donkey if I went last, and so I might be left toface the attack, if any came; whereas, if I were in front, the otherscould not go any faster than I. 

CHAPTER XXII

The gorge rises steep and precipitous between the lofty mountains onboth sides, and it is fortunate that we had some light from the moon, which was still high at two o'clock, being at the full. 

It is a ghastly place enough. In the days of the Papal States theSerra di Sant' Antonio, as it is called, was the shortest passage tothe kingdom of Naples, and the frontier line ran across its summit. Topass from one dominion to the other it would be necessary to go out ofthe way some forty or fifty miles, perhaps, unless one took thisroute; and the natural consequence was that outlaws, smugglers, political fugitives, and all such manner of men, found it a greatconvenience. Soldiers were stationed in Fillettino and on the otherside, to check illicit traffic and brigandage, and many were thefights that were fought among these giant beeches. 

The trees are of primeval dimensions, for no one has yet beenenterprising enough to attempt to fell the timber. The gorge is sosteep, and in many places so abruptly precipitous, that the logs couldnever be removed; and so they have grown undisturbed for hundreds ofyears, rotting and falling away as they stand. The beech is a lordlytree, with its great smooth trunk and its spreading branches, andthough it never reaches the size of the chestnut, it is far morebeautiful and long-lived. 

Here and there, at every hundred yards or so, it seemed to me, thecountryman would touch his hat and cross himself as he clambered upthe rocky path, and then I did likewise; for there was always somerude cross or rough attempt at the inscription of a name at suchspots, which marked where a man had met his untimely end. Sometimesthe moonbeams struggled through the branches, still bare of leaves, and fell on a few bold initials and a date; and sometimes we came to abroad ledge where no trees were, but only a couple of black stickstied at right angles for a cross. It was a dismal place, and the owlshooted at us. 

Besides, it grew intensely cold towards morning, so that thecountryman wanted to stop and make a fire to warm ourselves. Though itwas the end of March, the ground was frozen as hard as any stonewherever it was free from rocks. But Nino dismounted, and insistedupon wrapping his cloak about Hedwig; and then he walked, for fear ofcatching cold, and the countryman mounted his mule and clambered awayin front. In this way Hedwig and Nino lagged behind, conversing in lowtones that sounded very soft; and when I looked round, I could see howhe held his hand on her saddle and supported her in the rough places. Poor child, who would have thought she could bear such terrible work!But she had the blood of a soldierly old race in her veins, and wouldhave struggled on silently till she died. 

I think it would be useless to describe every stone on the desolatejourney, but when the morning dawned we were at the top, and we foundthe descent much easier. The rosy streaks came first, quite suddenly, and in a few minutes the sun was up, and the eventful night was past. I was never so glad to get rid of a night in my life. It is fortunatethat I am so thin and light, for I could never have reached thehigh-road alive had I been as fat as De Pretis is; and certainly thelittle donkey would have died by the way. He was quite as thin when Isold him again as when I bought him, a fortnight before, in spite ofthe bread I had given him. 

Hedwig drew her veil close about her face as the daylight broke, forshe would not let Nino see how pale and tired she was. But when atlast we were in the broad, fertile valley which marks the beginning ofthe old kingdom of Naples, we reached a village where there was aninn, and Nino turned everyone out of the best room with a high hand, and had a couch of some sort spread for Hedwig. He himself walked upand down outside the door for five whole hours, lest she should bedisturbed in her sleep. As for me I lay, on a bench, rolled in mycloak, and slept as I have not slept since I was twenty. 

Nino knew that the danger of pursuit was past now, and that the firstthing necessary was to give Hedwig rest; for she was so tired that shecould not eat, though there were very good eggs to be had, of which Iate three, and drank some wine, which does not compare to that on theRoman side. 

The sturdy man from Subiaco seemed like iron, for he ate sparingly anddrank less, and went out into the village to secure a conveyance andto inquire the nearest way to Ceprano. 

But when, as I have said, Nino had guarded Hedwig's door for fivehours he woke me from my sleep, and by that time it was about two inthe afternoon. 

"Hi, Messer Cornelio! wake up!" he cried pulling my arm. And I rubbedmy eyes. 

"What do you want, Nino?" I inquired. 

"I want to be married immediately, " he replied, still pulling at myelbow. 

"Well, pumpkin-head, " I said angrily, "marry, then, in Heaven's name, and let me sleep! I do not want to marry anybody. "

"But I do, " retorted Nino, sitting down on the bench and laying a handon my shoulder. He could still see Hedwig's door from where he sat. 

"In this place?" I asked. "Are you serious?"

"Perfectly. This is a town of some size, and there must be a mayorhere who marries people when they take the fancy. "

"Diavolo! I suppose so, " I assented. 

"A sindaco, --there must be one, surely. "

"Very well, go and find him, good-for-nothing!" I exclaimed. 

"But I cannot go away and leave that door until she wakes, " heobjected. "Dear Messer Cornelio, you have done so much for me, and areso kind, --will you not go out and find the sindaco, and bring him hereto marry us?"

"Nino, " I said, gravely, "the ass is a patient beast, and veryintelligent, but there is a limit to his capabilities. So long as itis merely a question of doing things you cannot do, very well. But ifit comes to this, that I must find not only the bride, but also themayor and the priest, I say, with good Pius IX. , --rest his soul, --_nonpossumus_. " Nino laughed. He could afford to laugh now. 

"Messer Cornelio, a child could tell you have been asleep. I neverheard such a string of disconnected sentences in my life. Come, bekind, and get me a mayor that I may be married. "

"I tell you I will not, " I cried, stubbornly. "Go yourself. "

"But I cannot leave the door. If anything should happen to her--"

"Macchè! What should happen to her, pray? I will put my bench acrossthe door, and sit there till you come back. "

"I am not quite sure--" he began. 

"Idiot!" I exclaimed. 

"Well, let us see how it looks. " And with that he ousted me from mybench, and carried it, walking on tiptoe, to the entrance of Hedwig'sroom. Then he placed it across the door. "Now sit down, " he said, authoritatively, but in a whisper; and I took my place in the middleof the long seat. He stood back and looked at me with an artisticsquint. 

"You look so proper, " he said, "that I am sure nobody will think oftrying the door while you sit there. Will you remain till I comeback?"

"Like Saint Peter in his chair, " I whispered, for I wanted to get ridof him. 

"Well, then, I must risk whatever may happen, and leave you here. " Sohe went away. Now I ask you if this was not a ridiculous position. ButI had discovered, in the course of my fortnight's wanderings, that Iwas really something of a philosopher in practice, and I am proud tosay that on this occasion I smoked in absolute indifference to theabsurdity of the thing. People came and stood at a distance in thepassage, and eyed me curiously. But they knew I belonged to the partyof foreigners, and doubtless they supposed it was the custom of mycountry to guard doors in that way. 

An hour passed, and I heard Hedwig stirring in the room. After a timeshe came close to the door and put her hand on the lock, so that itbegan to rattle, but she hesitated, and went away again. I once moreheard her moving about. Then I heard her open the window, and at lastshe came boldly and opened the door, which turned inward. I sat like arock, not knowing whether Nino would like me to turn round and look. 

"Signor Grandi!" she cried at last in laughing tones. 

"Yes, signorina!" I replied, respectfully, without moving. Shehesitated. 

"What are you doing in that strange position?" she asked. 

"I am mounting guard, " I answered. "I promised Nino that I would sithere till he came back. " She fairly laughed now, and it was the mostairy, silvery laugh in the world. 

"But why do you not look at me?"

"I am not sure that Nino would let me, " said I. "I promised not tomove, and I will keep my promise. "

"Will you let me out?" she asked, struggling with her merriment. 

"By no means, " I answered; "anymore than I would let anybody in. "

"Then we must make the best of it, " said she. "But I will bring achair and sit down, while you tell me the news. "

"Will you assume all responsibility toward Nino, signorina, if I turnso that I can see you?" I asked, as she sat down. 

"I will say that I positively ordered you to do so, " she answered, gaily. "Now look, and tell me where Signor Cardegna is gone. "

I looked indeed, and it was long before I looked away. The rest, thefreedom, and the happiness had done their work quickly, in spite ofall the dreadful anxiety and fatigue. The fresh, transparent colourwas in her cheeks, and her blue eyes were clear and bright. The statuehad been through the fire, and was made a living thing, beautiful, andbreathing, and real. 

"Tell me, " she said, the light dancing in her eyes, "where is hegone?"

"He is gone to find the mayor of this imposing capital, " I replied. Hedwig suddenly blushed, and turned her glistening eyes away. She wasbeautiful so. 

"Are you very tired, signorina? I ought not to ask the question, foryou look as though you had never been tired in your life. "

There is no saying what foolish speeches I might have made had notNino returned. He was radiant, and I anticipated that he must havesucceeded in his errand. 

"Ha! Messer Cornelio, is this the way you keep watch?" he cried. 

"I found him here, " said Hedwig, shyly, "and he would not even glanceat me until I positively insisted upon it. " Nino laughed, as he wouldhave laughed at most things in that moment, for sheer superfluity ofhappiness. 

"Signorina, " he said, "would it be agreeable to you to walk for a fewminutes after your sleep? The weather is wonderfully fine, and I amsure you owe it to the world to show the roses which rest has givenyou. "

Hedwig blushed softly, and I rose and went away, conceiving that I hadkept watch long enough. But Nino called after me, as he moved thebench from the door. 

"Messer Cornelio, will you not come with us? Surely you need a walkvery much, and we can ill spare your company. My lady, let me offeryou my arm. "

In this manner we left the inn, a wedding procession which could nothave been much smaller, and the singing of an old woman, who sat withher distaff in front of her house, was the wedding march. Nino seemedin no great haste, I thought, and I let them walk as they would, whileI kept soberly in the middle of the road, a little way behind. 

It was not far that we had to go, however, and soon we came to a largebrick house, with an uncommonly small door, over which hung a woodenshield with the arms of Italy brightly painted in green and red andwhite. 

Nino and Hedwig entered arm in arm, and I slunk guiltily in afterthem. Hedwig had drawn her veil, which was the only head-dress shehad, close about her face. 

In a quarter of an hour the little ceremony was over, and theregisters were signed by us all. Nino also got a stamped certificate, which he put very carefully in his pocket-book. I never knew what itcost Nino to overcome the scruples of the sindaco about marrying astrange couple from Rome in that outlandish place, where the peasantsstared at us as though we had been the most unnatural curiosities, andeven the pigs in the street jogged sullenly out of our way as thoughnot recognising that we were human. 

At all events, the thing was done, and Hedwig von Lira became for therest of her life Edvigia Cardegna. And I felt very guilty. The pairwent down the steps of the house together in front of me, and stoppedas they reached the street; forgetting my presence, I presume. Theyhad not forgotten me so long as I was needed to be of use to them;but I must not complain. 

"We can face the world together now, my dear lady, " said Nino, as hedrew her little hand through his arm. She looked up at him, and Icould see her side face. I shall never forget the expression. Therewas in it something I really never saw before, which made me feel asthough I were in church; and I knew then that there was no wrong inhelping such love as that to its fulfilment. 

By the activity of the man from Subiaco a curious conveyance was readyfor us, being something between a gig and a cart, and a couple ofstrong horses were hired for the long drive. The countryman, who hadgrown rich in the last three days, offered to buy the thin little asswhich had carried me so far and so well. He observed that he was blindof one eye, which I had never found out, and I do not believe it wastrue. The way he showed it was by snapping his fingers close to theeye in question. The donkey winked, and the countryman said that ifthe eye were good the beast would see that the noise was made by thefingers, and would not be frightened, and would therefore not wink. 

"You see, " said he, "he thinks it is a whip cracking, and so he isafraid. "

"Do donkeys always wink when they are frightened?" I inquired. "It isvery interesting. "

"Yes, " said the countryman, "they mostly do. " At all events, I wasobliged to take the man's own price, which was little enough, --not athird of what I had given. 

The roads were good, and the long and the short of the matter, withoutany more details, is that we reached Rome very early the nextmorning, having caught the night train from Naples. Hedwig slept mostof the time in the carriage and all the time in the train, while Nino, who never seemed to tire or to need sleep, sat watching her with wide, happy eyes. But perhaps he slept a little too, for I did, and I cannotanswer for his wakefulness through every minute of the night. 

Once I asked him what he intended to do in Rome. 

"We will go to the hotel Costanzi, " he answered, which is aforeigners' resort. And if she is rested enough we will come down toyou, and see what we can do about being married properly in church bythe old curato. "

"The marriage by the sindaco is perfectly legal, " I remarked. 

"It is a legal contract, but it is not a marriage that pleases me, " hesaid, gravely. 

"But, caro mio, without offence, your bride is a Protestant, aLutheran; not to mince matters, a heretic. They will make objections. "

"She is an angel, " said Nino, with great conviction. 

"But the angels neither marry nor are given in marriage, " I objected, arguing the point to pass the time. 

"What do you make of it, then, Messer Cornelio?" he asked, with asmile. 

"Why, as a heretic she ought to burn, and as an angel she ought not tomarry. "

"It is better to marry than to burn, " retorted Nino, triumphantly. 

"Diavolo! Have you had St. Paul for a tutor?" I asked, for I knew thequotation, being fond of Greek. 

"I heard a preacher cite it once at the Gesù, and I thought it a goodsaying. "

Early in the morning we rolled into the great station of Rome, andtook an affectionate leave of each other, with the promise that Hedwigand Nino would visit me in the course of the day. I saw them into acarriage, with Nino's small portmanteau, and Hedwig's bundle, and thenmounted a modest omnibus that runs from the termini to St. Peter's, and goes very near my house. 

All the bells were ringing gladly, as if to welcome us, for it wasEaster morning; and though it is not so kept as it used to be, it isnevertheless a great feast. Besides, the spring was at hand, and theacacia-trees in the great square were budding, though everything wasstill so backward in the hills. April was at hand, which theforeigners think is our best month; but I prefer June and July, whenthe weather is warm, and the music plays in the Piazza Colonna of anevening. For all that, April is a glad time, after the disagreeablewinter. 

There was with me much peace on that Easter day, for I felt that mydear boy was safe after all his troubles. At least he was safe fromanything that could be done to part him from Hedwig; for the civillaws are binding, and Hedwig was of the age when a young woman islegally free to marry whom she pleases. Of course old Lira might stillmake himself disagreeable, but I fancied him too much a man of theworld to desire a scandal, when no good could follow. The one shadowin the future was the anger of Benoni, who would be certain to seeksome kind of revenge for the repulse he had suffered. I was stillignorant of his whereabouts, not yet knowing what I knew longafterwards, and have told you, because otherwise you would have beenas much in the dark as he was himself, when Temistocle cunninglyturned the lock of the staircase door and left him to his curses andhis meditations. I have had much secret joy in thinking what awretched night he must have passed there, and how his long limbs musthave ached with sitting about on the stones, and how hoarse he musthave been from the dampness and the swearing. 

I reached home, the dear old number twenty-seven in Santa Catarina deiFunari, by half-past seven, or even earlier; and I was glad when Irang the bell on the landing, and called through the keyhole in myimpatience. 

"Mariuccia, Mariuccia, come quickly! It is I!" I cried. 

"O Madonna mia!' I heard her exclaim, and there was a tremendousclatter, as she dropped the coffee-pot. She was doubtless brewingherself a quiet cup with my best Porto-Rico, which I do not allow herto use. She thought I was never coming back, the cunning old hag!

"Dio mio, Signor Professore! A good Easter to you!" she cried, as Iheard the flat pattering of her old feet inside, running to the door. "I thought the wolves had eaten you, padrone mio!" And at last she letme in. 

CHAPTER XXIII

"A tall gentleman came here late last night, Signor Professore, " saidMariuccia, as I sat down in the old green arm-chair. "He seemed veryangry about something, and said he must positively see you. " The ideaof Benoni flashed uneasily across my brain. 

"Was he the grave signore who came a few days before I left?" I asked. 

"Heaven preserve us!" ejaculated Mariuccia. "This one was much older, and seemed to be lame; for when he tried to shake his stick at me, hecould not stand without it. He looked like one of the old Swiss guardsat Palazzo. " By which she meant the Vatican, as you know. 

"It must have been the count, " I said, thinking aloud. 

"A count! A pretty sort of count, indeed, to come waking people fromtheir beds in the night! He had not even a high hat like the one youwear when you go to the University. A count, indeed!"

"Go and make me some good coffee, Mariuccia, " I said, eying herseverely to show I suspected her of having used mine; "and be carefulto make it of my best Porto-Rico, if you have any left, without anychicory. "

"A count, indeed!" she muttered angrily as she hobbled away, not inthe least heeding my last remark, which I believed to be withering. 

I had not much time for reflection that morning. My old clothes werein tatters, and the others looked very fine by contrast, so that whenI had made my toilet I felt better able to show myself to thedistinguished company I expected. I had seen so much extraordinaryendurance in Nino and Hedwig during the last two or three days that Iwas prepared to see them appear at any moment, brushed and curled andready for anything. The visit of the count, however, had seriouslydisturbed me, and I hardly knew what to look for from him. As itturned out, I had not long to wait. 

I was resting myself in the arm-chair, and smoking one of thoseinfamous cigars that nearly suffocate me, just for company, and I wascomposing in my mind a letter to the authorities of the University, requesting that I might begin to lecture again. I did not find outuntil later that I need not have written to them at all when I wentaway, as ten days are always allowed at Easter, in any case. It isjust like my forgetfulness, to have made such a mistake. I really onlymissed four lectures. But my composition was interrupted by thedoor-bell, and my heart sank in my breast. Mariuccia opened, and Iknew by the sound of the stick on the bricks that the lame count hadcome to wreak his vengeance. 

Being much frightened, I was very polite, and bowed a great many timesas he came toward me. It was he, looking much the same as ever, woodenand grizzly. 

"I am much honoured, sir, " I began, "by seeing you here. "

"You are Signor Grandi?" he inquired, with a stiff bow. 

"The same, Signor Conte, and very much at your service, " I answered, rubbing my hands together to give myself an air of satisfaction. 

"Let us not waste time, " he said, severely but not roughly. "I havecome to you on business. My daughter has disappeared with your son, orwhatever relation the Signor Giovanni Cardegna is to you. "

"He is no relation, Signor Conte. He was an orphan, and I--"

"It is the same, " he interrupted. "You are responsible for hisdoings. "

I responsible! Good heavens, had I not done all in my power to preventthe rashness of that hot-headed boy?

"Will you not sit down, sir?" I said, moving a chair for him. He tookthe seat rather reluctantly. 

"You do not seem much astonished at what I tell you, " he remarked. "Itis evident that you are in the plot. "

"Unless you will inform me of what you know, Signor Conte, " I repliedwith urbanity, "I cannot see how I can be of service to you. "

"On the contrary, " said he, "I am the person to ask questions. I wakeup in the morning and find my daughter gone. I naturally inquire whereshe is. "

"Most naturally, as you say, sir. I would do the same. "

"And you, also very naturally, answer my questions, " he continuedseverely. 

"In that case, sir, " I replied, "I would call to your attention thefact that you have asked but one question, --whether I were SignorGrandi. I answered that in the affirmative. " You see I wasapprehensive of what he might do, and desired to gain time. But hebegan to lose his temper. 

"I have no patience with you Italians, " he said, gruffly; "you bandywords and play with them as if you enjoyed it. "

Diavolo, thought I, he is angry at my silence. What will he be if Ispeak?

"What do you wish to know, Signor Conte?" I inquired, in suave tones. 

"I wish to know where my daughter is. Where is she? Do you understand?I am asking a question now, and you cannot deny it. "

I was sitting in front of him, but I rose and pretended to shut thedoor, thus putting the table and the end of the piano between us, before I answered. 

"She is in Rome, Signor Conte, " I said. 

"With Cardegna?" he asked, not betraying any emotion. 

"Yes. "

"Very well. I will have them arrested at once. That is all I wanted. "He put his crutch-stick to the floor as though about to rise. Seeingthat his anger was not turned against me, I grew bold. 

"You had better not do that, " I mildly observed, across the table. 

"And why not, sir?" he asked, quickly, hesitating whether to get uponhis feet or to remain seated. 

"Because they are married already, " I answered, retreating toward thedoor. But there was no need for flight. He sank back in the chair, andthe stick fell from his hands upon the bricks with a loud rattle. Poorold man! I thought he was quite overcome by the news I hadcommunicated. He sat staring at the window, his hands lying idly onhis knees. I moved to come toward him, but he raised one hand andbegan to twirl his great gray moustache fiercely; whereat I resumed myformer position of safety. 

"How do you know this?" he demanded on a sudden. 

"I was present at the civil marriage yesterday, " I answered, feelingvery much scared. He began to notice my manoeuvre. 

"You need not be so frightened, " he said, coldly. "It would be no useto kill any of you now, though I would like to. "

"I assure you that no one ever frightened me in my own house, sir, " Ianswered. I think my voice must have sounded very bold, for he did notlaugh at me. 

"I suppose it is irrevocable, " he said, as if to himself. 

"Oh, yes--perfectly irrevocable, " I answered, promptly. "They aremarried, and have come back to Rome. They are at the Hotel Costanzi. Iam sure that Nino would give you every explanation. "

"Who is Nino?" he asked. 

"Nino Cardegna, of course--"

"And do you foolishly imagine that I am going to ask him to explainwhy he took upon himself to carry away my daughter?" The question wasscornful enough. 

"Signor Conte, " I protested, "you would do well to see them, for sheis your daughter, after all. "

"She is not my daughter any longer, " growled the count. "She ismarried to a singer, a tenor, an Italian with curls and lies andgrins, as you all have. Fie!" And he pulled his moustache again. 

"A singer, " said I, "if you like, but a great singer, and an honestman. "

"Oh, I did not come here to listen to your praises of that scoundrel!"he exclaimed, hotly. "I have seen enough of him to be sick of him. "

"I wish he were in this room to hear you call him by such names, " Isaid; for I began to grow angry, as I sometimes do, and then my feargrows small and my heart grows big. 

"Ah!" said he, ironically. "And pray, what would he do to me?"

"He would probably ask you again for that pistol you refused to lendhim the other day. " I thought I might as well show that I knew allabout the meeting in the road. But Lira laughed grimly, and the ideaof a fight seemed to please him. 

"I would not refuse it this time. In fact, since you mention it, Ithink I will go and offer it to him now. Do you think I should bejustified, Master Censor?"

"No, " said I, coming forward and facing him. "But if you like you canfight me. I am your own age, and a better match. " I would have foughthim then and there, with the chairs, if he had liked. 

"Why should I fight you?" he inquired, in some astonishment. "Youstrike me as a very peaceable person indeed. "

"Diavolo! do you expect me to stand quietly and hear you call my boy ascoundrel? What do you take me for, signore? Do you know that I am thelast of the Conti Grandi, and as noble as any of you, and as fit tofight, though my hair is gray?"

"I knew, indeed, that one member of that illustrious family survivedin Rome, " he answered, gravely, "but I was not aware that you were he. I am glad to make your acquaintance, and I sincerely wish that youwere the father of the young man who has married my daughter. If youwere, I would be ready to arrange matters. " He looked at mesearchingly. 

"Unfortunately, I am not any relation of his, " I answered. "His fatherand mother were peasants on my estate of Serveti, when it still wasmine. They died when he was a baby, and I took care of him andeducated him. "

"Yes, he is well educated, " reflected the count, "for I examined himmyself. Let us talk no more about fighting. You are quite sure thatthe marriage is legal?"

"Quite certain. You can do nothing, and any attempt would be a uselessscandal. Besides, they are so happy, you do not know. "

"So happy, are they? Do you think I am happy too?

"A man has every reason to be so, when his daughter marries an honestman. It is a piece of good luck that does not happen often. "

"Probably from the scarcity of daughters who are willing to drivetheir fathers to distraction by their disobedience and contempt ofauthority, '" he said, savagely. 

"No, --from the scarcity of honest men, " I said. "Nino is a very honestman. You may go from one end of Italy to the other and not meet onelike him. "

"I sincerely hope so, " growled Lira. "Otherwise Italy would be aswholly unredeemed and unredeemable as you pretend that some parts ofit are now. But I will tell you, Conte Grandi, you cannot walk acrossthe street, in my country, without meeting a dozen men who wouldtremble at the idea of such depravity as an elopement. "

"Our ideas of honesty differ, sir, " I replied. "When a man loves awoman, I consider it honest in him to act as though he did, and not togo and marry another for consolation, beating her with a thick stickwhenever he chances to think of the first. That seems to be thenorthern idea of domestic felicity. " Lira laughed gruffly, supposingthat my picture was meant for a jest. "I am glad you are amused, " Iadded. 

"Upon my honour, sir, " he replied, "you are so vastly amusing that Iam half inclined to forgive my daughter's rashness, for the sake ofenjoying your company. First you entrench yourself behind yourfurniture; then you propose to fight me; and now you give me the mostoriginal views upon love and marriage that I ever heard. Indeed I havecause to be amused. "

"I am happy to oblige you, " I said, tartly, for I did not like hislaughter. "So long as you confine your amusement to me, I amsatisfied; but pray avoid using any objectionable language aboutNino. "

"Then my only course is to avoid the subject?"

"Precisely, " I replied, with a good deal of dignity. 

"In that case I will go, " he said. I was immensely relieved, for hispresence was most unpleasant, as you may readily guess. He got uponhis feet, and I showed him to the door, with all courtesy. I expectedthat he would say something about the future before leaving me, but Iwas mistaken. He bowed in silence, and stumped down the steps with hisstick. 

I sank into my arm-chair with a great sigh of relief, for I felt that, for me at least, the worst was over. I had faced the infuriatedfather, and I might now face anybody with the consciousness of power. I always feel conscious of great power when danger is past. Once moreI lit my cigar, and stretched myself out to take some rest. Theconstant strain on the nerves was becoming very wearing, and I knewvery well that on the morrow I should need bleeding and mallows tea. Hardly was I settled and comfortable when I heard that dreadful bellagain. 

"This is the day of the resurrection indeed, " cried Mariucciafrantically from the kitchen. And she hurried to the door. But Icannot describe to you the screams of joy and the strange sounds, between laughing and crying, that her leathern throat produced whenshe found Nino and Hedwig on the landing, waiting for admission. Andwhen Nino explained that he had been married, and that this beautifullady with the bright eyes and the golden hair was his wife, the oldwoman fairly gave way, and sat upon a chair in an agony of amazementand admiration. But the pair came toward me, and I met them with alight heart. 

"Nino, " said Hedwig, "we have not been nearly grateful enough toSignor Grandi for all he has done. I have been very selfish, " shesaid, penitently turning to me. 

"Ah no, signora, " I replied, --for she was married now, and no longer"signorina, "--"it is never selfish of such as you to let an old man doyou service. You have made me very happy. " And then I embraced Nino, and Hedwig gave me her hand, which I kissed in the old fashion. 

"And so this is your old home, Nino?" said Hedwig presently, lookingabout her, and touching the things in the room, as a woman will whenshe makes acquaintance with a place she has often heard of. "What adear room it is! I wish we could live here!" How very soon a womanlearns that "we" that means so much! It is never forgotten, even whenthe love that bred it is dead and cold. 

"Yes, " I said, for Nino seemed so enraptured, as he watched her, thathe could not speak. "And there is the old piano, with the end on theboxes because it has no leg, as I dare say Nino has often told you. "

"Nino said it was a very good piano, " said she. 

"And indeed it is, " he said, with enthusiasm. "It is out of tune now, perhaps, but it is the source of all my fortune. " He leaned over thecrazy instrument and seemed to caress it. 

"Poor old thing!" said Hedwig, compassionately. "I am sure there ismusic in it still--the sweet music of the past. "

"Yes, " said he laughing, "it must be the music of the past, for itwould not stand the 'music of the future, ' as they call it, for fiveminutes. All the strings would break. " Hedwig sat down on the chairthat was in front of it, and her fingers went involuntarily to thekeys, though she is no great musician. 

"I can play a little, you know, Nino, " she said shyly, and looked upto his face for a response, not venturing to strike the chords. And itwould have done you good to see how brightly Nino smiled andencouraged her little offer of music--he, the great artist, in whoselife music was both sword and sceptre. But he knew that she hadgreatness also of a different kind, and he loved the small jewels inhis crown as well as the glorious treasures of its larger wealth. 

"Play to me, my love, " he said, not caring now whether I heard thesweet words or not. She blushed a little, nevertheless, and glanced atme; then her fingers strayed over the keys, and drew out music thatwas very soft and yet very gay. Suddenly she ceased, and leanedforward on the desk of the piano, looking at him. 

"Do you know, Nino, it was once my dream to be a great musician. If Ihad not been so rich I should have taken the profession in earnest. But now, you see, it is different, is it not?"

"Yes, it is all different now, " he answered, not knowing exactly whatshe meant, but radiantly happy, all the same. 

"I mean, " she said, hesitating--"I mean that now that we are to bealways together, what you do I do, and what I do you do. Do youunderstand?"

"Yes, perfectly, " said Nino, rather puzzled, but quite satisfied. 

"Ah no, dear, " said she, forgetting my presence, and letting her handsteal into his as he stood, "you do not understand--quite. I mean thatso long as one of us can be a great musician it is enough, and I amjust as great as though I did it all myself. "

Thereupon Nino forgot himself altogether, and kissed her golden hair. But then he saw me looking, for it was so pretty a sight that I couldnot help it, and he remembered. 

"Oh!" he said in a tone of embarrassment that I had never heardbefore. Then Hedwig blushed very much too, and looked away, and Ninoput himself between her and me, so that I might not see her. 

"Could you play something for me to sing, Hedwig?" he asked suddenly. 

"Oh, yes! I can play 'Spirto gentil, ' by heart, " she cried, hailingthe idea with delight. 

In a moment they were both lost, and indeed so was I, in the dignityand beauty of the simple melody. As he began to sing, Nino bent downto her, and almost whispered the first words into her ear. But soon hestood erect, and let the music flow from his lips just as God made it. His voice was tired with the long watching and the dust and cold andheat of the journey; but, as De Pretis said when he began, he has aniron throat, and the weariness only made the tones soft and tender andthrilling, that would perhaps have been too strong for my little room. 

Suddenly he stopped short in the middle of a note, and gazedopen-mouthed at the door. And I looked, too, and was horrified; andHedwig, looking also, screamed and sprang back to the window, overturning the chair she had sat on. 

In the doorway stood Ahasuerus Benoni, the Jew. 

Mariuccia had imprudently forgotten to shut the door when Hedwig andNino came, and the baron had walked in unannounced. You may imaginethe fright I was in. But, after all, it was natural enough that afterwhat had occurred he, as well as the count, should seek an interviewwith me, to obtain what information I was willing to give. 

There he stood in his gray clothes, tall and thin and smiling as ofyore. 

CHAPTER XXIV

Nino is a man for great emergencies, as I have had occasion to say, and when he realised who the unwelcome visitor was, he acted aspromptly as usual. With a face like marble he walked straight acrossthe room to Benoni and faced him. 

"Baron Benoni, " he said, in a low voice, "I warn you that you are mostunwelcome here. If you attempt to say any word to my wife, or to forcean entrance, I will make short work of you. " Benoni eyed him with asort of pitying curiosity as he made this speech:--

"Do not fear, Signor Cardegna. I came to see Signor Grandi, and toascertain from him precisely what you have voluntered to tell me. Youcannot suppose that I have any object in interrupting the leisure of agreat artist, or the privacy of his very felicitous domesticrelations. I have not a great deal to say. That is, I have always agreat deal to say about everything, but I shall at present confinemyself to a very little. "

"You will be wise, " said Nino, scornfully, "and you would be wiser ifyou confined yourself to nothing at all. "

"Patience, Signor Cardegna, " protested Benoni. "You will readilyconceive that I am a little out of breath with the stairs, for I am avery old man. "

"In that case, " I said, from the other side of the room, "I may aswell occupy your breathing time by telling you that any remarks youare likely to make to me have been forestalled by the Graf von Lira, who has been with me this morning. " Benoni smiled, but both Hedwig andNino looked at me in surprise. 

"I only wished to say, " returned Benoni, "that I consider you in thelight of an interesting phenomenon. Nay, Signor Cardegna, do not lookso fierce. I am an old man--"

"An old devil, " said Nino hotly. 

"An old fool, " said I. 

"An old reprobate, " said Hedwig, from her corner, in deepestindignation. 

"Precisely, " returned Benoni, smilingly. "Many people have been goodenough to tell me so before. Thanks, kind friends, I believe you withall my heart. Meanwhile, man, devil, fool, or reprobate, I am veryold. I am about to leave Rome for St. Petersburg, and I will take thislast opportunity of informing you that in a very singularly long lifeI have met with only two or three such remarkable instances as this ofyours. "

"Say what you wish to say, and go, " said Nino, roughly. 

"Certainly. And whenever I have met with such an instance I have donemy very utmost to reduce it to the common level, and to prove tomyself that no such thing really exists. I find it a dangerous thing, however; for an old man in love is likely to exhibit precisely theagreeable and striking peculiarities you have so aptly designated. "There was something so odd about his manner and about the things hesaid that Nino was silent, and allowed him to proceed. 

"The fact is, " he continued, "that love is a very rare thing, nowadays, and is so very generally an abominable sham that I haveoften amused myself by diabolically devising plans for itsdestruction. On this occasion I very nearly came to grief myself. Thesame thing happened to me some time ago--about forty years, I shouldsay, --and I perceive that it has not been forgotten. It may amuse youto look at this paper, which I chance to have with me. Good-morning. Ileave for St. Petersburg at once. "

"I believe you are really the Wandering Jew!" cried Nino, as Benonileft the room. 

"His name was certainly Ahasuerus, " Benoni replied from the outerdoor. "But it may be a coincidence, after all. Good-day. " He was gone. 

I was the first to take up the paper he had thrown upon a chair. Therewas a passage marked with a red pencil. I read it aloud:--

"... Baron Benoni, the wealthy banker of St. Petersburg, who was manyyears ago an inmate of a private lunatic asylum in Paris, is reportedto be dangerously insane in Rome. " That was all. The paper was the_Paris Figaro_. 

"Merciful Heavens!" exclaimed Hedwig, "and I was shut up with thatmadman in Fillettino!" Nino was already by her side, and in his strongarms she forgot Benoni, and Fillettino, and all her troubles. We wereall silent for some time. At last Nino spoke. 

"Is it true that the count was here this morning?" he asked, in asubdued voice, for the extraordinary visit and its sequel had made himgrave. 

"Quite true, " I said. "He was here a long time. I would not spoil yourpleasure by telling you of it, when you first came. "

"What did he--what did my father say?" asked Hedwig, presently. 

"My dear children, " I answered, thinking I might well call them so, "he said a great many unpleasant things, so that I offered to fighthim if he said any more. " At this they both laid hold of me and beganto caress me; and one smoothed my hair, and the other embraced me, sothat I was half smothered. 

"Dear Signor Grandi, " cried Hedwig, anxiously, "how good and brave youare!" She does not know what a coward I am, you see, and I hope shewill never find out, for nothing was ever said to me that gave me halfso much pleasure as to be called brave by her, the dear child; and ifshe never finds out she may say it again, some day. Besides, I reallydid offer to fight Lira, as I have told you. 

"And what is he going to do?" asked Nino, in some anxiety. 

"I do not know. I told him it was all legal, and that he could nottouch you at all. I also said you were staying at the Hotel Costanzi, where he might find you if he wished. "

"Oh! Did you tell him that?" asked Hedwig. 

"It was quite right, " said Nino. "He ought to know, of course. Andwhat else did you tell him?"

"Nothing especial, Nino mio. He went away in a sort of ill temperbecause I would not let him abuse you as much as he pleased. "

"He may abuse me and be welcome, " said Nino. "He has some right to beangry with me. But he will think differently some day. " So we chattedaway for an hour, enjoying the rest and the peace and the sweetsunshine of the Easter afternoon. But this was the day ofinterruptions. There was one more visitor to come, --one more scene forme to tell you, and then I have done. 

A carriage drove down the street and seemed to stop at the door of myhouse. Nino looked idly out of the window. Suddenly he started. 

"Hedwig, Hedwig!" he cried, "here is your father coming back!" Shewould not look out, but stood back from the window, turning pale. Ifthere was one thing she dreaded, it was a meeting with her father. Allthe old doubt as to whether she had done right seemed to come back toher face in a moment. But Nino turned and looked at her, and his facewas so triumphant that she got back her courage, and, clasping hishand, bravely awaited what was to come. 

I went myself to the door, and heard Lira's slow tread on the stairs. Before long he appeared, and glanced up at me from the steps, which heclimbed, one at a time, with his stick. 

"Is my daughter here?" he asked, as soon as he reached me; and hisvoice sounded subdued, just as Nino's did when Benoni had gone, Iconducted him into the room. It was the strangest meeting. The proudold man bowed stiffly to Hedwig, as though he had never before seenher. They also bent their heads, and there was a silence as of deathin the sunny room. 

"My daughter, " said Von Lira at last, and with evident effort, "I wishto have a word with you. These two gentlemen--the younger of whom isnow, as I understand it, your husband--may well hear what I wish tosay. "

I moved a chair so that he might sit down, but he stood up to his fullheight, as though not deigning to be older than the rest. I watchedHedwig, and saw how with both hands she clung to Nino's arm, and herlip trembled, and her face wore the look it had when I saw her inFillettino. 

As for Nino, his stern, square jaw was set, and his brow bent, but heshowed no emotion, unless the darkness in his face and the heavyshadows beneath his eyes foretold ready anger. 

"I am no trained, reasoner, like Signor Grandi, " said Lira, lookingstraight at Hedwig, "but I can say plainly what I mean, for all that. There was a good old law in Sparta, whereby disobedient children wereput to death without mercy. Sparta was a good country, --very likePrussia, but less great. You know what I mean. You have cruellydisobeyed me, --cruelly, I say, because you have shown me that all mypains and kindness and discipline have been in vain. There is nothingso sorrowful for a good parent as to discover that he has made amistake. "

(The canting old proser, I thought, will he never finish?)

"The mistake I refer to is not in the way I have dealt with you, " hewent on, "for on that score I have nothing to reproach myself. But Iwas mistaken in supposing you loved me. You have despised all I havedone for you. "

"Oh, father! How can you say that?" cried poor Hedwig, clinging closerto Nino. 

"At all events, you have acted as though you did. On the very day whenI promised you to take signal action upon Baron Benoni you left me bystealth, saying in your miserable letter that you had gone to a manwho could both love and protect you. "

"You did neither the one nor the other, sir, " said Nino, boldly, "whenyou required of your daughter to marry such a man as Benoni. "

"I have just seen Benoni; I saw him also on the night you left me, madam, "--he looked severely at Hedwig, --"and I am reluctantly forcedto confess that he is not sane, according to the ordinary standard ofthe mind. "

We had all known from the paper of the suspicion that rested onBenoni's sanity, yet somehow there was a little murmur in the roomwhen the old count so clearly stated his opinion. 

"That does not, however, alter the position in the least, " continuedLira, "for you knew nothing of this at the time I desired you to marryhim, and I should have found it out soon enough to prevent mischief. Instead of trusting to my judgment you took the law into your ownhands, like a most unnatural daughter, as you are, and disappeared inthe night with a man whom I consider totally unfit for you, howeversuperior, " he added, glancing at Nino, "he may have proved himself inhis own rank of life. "

Nino could not hold his tongue any longer. It seemed absurd that thereshould be a battle of words when all the realities of the affair wereaccomplished facts; but for his life he could not help speaking. 

"Sir, " he said, addressing Lira, "I rejoice that this opportunity isgiven me of once more speaking clearly to you. Months ago, when I wasbetrayed into a piece of rash violence, for which I at once apologisedto you, I told you under somewhat peculiar circumstances that I wouldyet marry your daughter, if she would have me. I stand here to-daywith her by my side, my wedded wife, to tell you that I have kept myword, and that she is mine by her own free consent. Have you any causeto show why she is not my wedded wife? If so, show it. But I will notlet you stand there and say bitter and undeserved things to this samewife of mine, abusing the name of father and the terms 'authority' and'love, ' forsooth! And if you wish to take vengeance on me personally, do so if you can. I will not fight duels with you now, as I was readyto do the day before yesterday. For then--so short a time ago--I hadbut offered her my life, and so that I gave it for her I cared not hownor when. But now she has taken me for hers, and I have no more rightto let you kill me than I have to kill myself, seeing that she and Iare one. Therefore, good sir, if you have words of conciliation tospeak, speak them; but if you would only tell her harsh and cruelthings, I say you shall not!"

As Nino uttered these hot words in good, plain Italian, they had abold and honest sound of strength that was glorious to hear. A weakerman than the old count would have fallen into a fury of rage, andperhaps would have done some foolish violence. But he stood silent, eying his antagonist coolly, and when the words were spoken heanswered. 

"Signor Cardegna, " he said, "the fact that I am here ought to be toyou the fullest demonstration that I acknowledge your marriage with mydaughter. I have certainly no intention of prolonging a painfulinterview. When I have said that my child has disobeyed me, I havesaid all that the question holds. As for the future of you two, I havenaturally nothing more to say about it. I cannot love a disobedientchild, nor ever shall again. For the present, we will part; and if atthe end of a year my daughter is happy with you, and desires to seeme, I shall make no objection to such a meeting. I need not say thatif she is unhappy with you my house will always be open to her, if shechooses to return to it. "

"No, sir, most emphatically, you need not say it!" cried Nino, withblazing eyes. Lira took no notice of him, but turned to go. 

Hedwig would try once more to soften him, though she knew it wasuseless. 

"Father, " she said, in tones of passionate entreaty, "will you not sayyou wish me well? Will you not forgive me?" She sprang to him andwould have held him back. 

"I wish you no ill, " he answered shortly, pushing her aside, and hemarched to the door, where he paused, bowed as stiffly as ever, anddisappeared. 

It was very rude of us, perhaps, but no one accompanied him to thestairs. As for me, I would not have believed it possible that anyhuman being could be so hard and relentlessly virtuous; and if I hadwondered at first that Hedwig should have so easily made up her mindto flight, I was no longer surprised when I saw with my own eyes howhe could treat her. 

I cannot, indeed, conceive how she could have borne it so long, forthe whole character of the man came out, hard, cold, and narrow, --sucha character as must be more hideous than any description can paint it, when seen in the closeness of daily conversation. But when he was gonethe sun appeared to shine again, as he had shone all day, though ithad sometimes seemed so dark. The storms were in that little room. 

As Lira went out, Nino, who had followed Hedwig closely, caught her inhis arms, and once more her face rested on his broad breast. I satdown and pretended to be busy with a pile of old papers that lay nearby on the table, but I could hear what they said. The dear children, they forgot all about me. 

"I am so sorry, dear one, " said Nino soothingly. 

"I know you are, Nino. But it cannot be helped. "

"But are you sorry, too, Hedwig?" he asked, stroking her hair. 

"That my father is angry? Yes. I wish he were not, " said she, lookingwistfully toward the door. 

"No, not that, " said Nino. "Sorry that you left him, I mean. "

"Ah, no, I am not sorry for that. Oh, Nino, dear Nino, your love isbest. " And again she hid her face. 

"We will go away at once, darling, " he said, after a minute, duringwhich I did not see what was going on. "Would you like to go away?"

Hedwig moved her head to say "Yes. "

"We will go, then, sweetheart. Where shall it be?" asked Nino, tryingto distract her thoughts from what had just occurred. "London? Paris?Vienna? I can sing anywhere now, but you must always choose, love. "

"Anywhere, anywhere; only always with you, Nino, till we dietogether. "

"Always, till we die, my beloved, " he repeated. The small white handsstole up and clasped about his broad throat, tenderly drawing his faceto hers, and hers to his. And it will be "always, " till they dietogether, I think. 

 * * * * *

This is the story of that Roman singer whose great genius is makingsuch a stir in the world. I have told it to you, because he is my owndear boy, as I have often said in these pages; and because people mustnot think that he did wrong to carry Hedwig von Lira away from herfather, nor that Hedwig was so very unfilial and heartless. I knowthat they were both right, and the day will come when old Lira willacknowledge it. He is a hard old man, but he must have some affectionfor her; and if not, he will surely have the vanity to own so famousan artist as Nino for his son-in-law. 

I do not know how it was managed, for Hedwig was certainly a hereticwhen she left her father, though she was an angel, as Nino said. Butbefore they left Rome for Vienna there was a little wedding, early inthe morning, in our parish church, for I was there; and De Pretis, whowas really responsible for the whole thing, got some of his bestsingers from St. Peter and St. John on the Lateran to come and sing amass over the two. I think that our good Mother Church found room forthe dear child very quickly, and that is how it happened. 

They are happy and glad together, those two hearts that never knewlove save for each other, and they will be happy always. For it wasnothing but love with them from the very first, and so it must be tothe very last. Perhaps you will say that there is nothing in thisstory either but love. And if so, it is well; for where there isnaught else there can surely be no sinning, or wrongdoing, orweakness, or meanness; nor yet anything that is not quite pure andundefiled. 

Just as I finish this writing, there comes a letter from Nino to saythat he has taken steps about buying Serveti, and that I must go therein the spring with Mariuccia and make it ready for him. Dear Serveti, of course I will go. 

THE END