THE VALLEY OF DECISION

BY

EDITH WHARTON

Author of "A Gift from the Grave, " "Crucial Instances, " etc. 

"Multitudes, multitudes in the valley of decision. "

TO

MY FRIENDS

PAUL AND MINNIE BOURGET

IN REMEMBRANCE OF

ITALIAN DAYS TOGETHER. 

CONTENTS. 

BOOK I. THE OLD ORDER. 

BOOK II. THE NEW LIGHT. 

BOOK III. THE CHOICE. 

BOOK IV. THE REWARD. 

BOOK I. 

THE OLD ORDER. 

 Prima che incontro alla festosa fronte I lugubri suoi lampi il ver baleni. 

1. 1. 

It was very still in the small neglected chapel. The noises of the farmcame faintly through closed doors--voices shouting at the oxen in thelower fields, the querulous bark of the old house-dog, and Filomena'sangry calls to the little white-faced foundling in the kitchen. 

The February day was closing, and a ray of sunshine, slanting through aslit in the chapel wall, brought out the vision of a pale haloed headfloating against the dusky background of the chancel like a water-lilyon its leaf. The face was that of the saint of Assisi--a sunken ravagedcountenance, lit with an ecstasy of suffering that seemed not so much toreflect the anguish of the Christ at whose feet the saint knelt, as themute pain of all poor down-trodden folk on earth. 

When the small Odo Valsecca--the only frequenter of the chapel--had beentaunted by the farmer's wife for being a beggar's brat, or when his earswere tingling from the heavy hand of the farmer's son, he found amelancholy kinship in that suffering face; but since he had fightingblood in him too, coming on the mother's side of the rude Piedmontesestock of the Marquesses di Donnaz, there were other moods when he turnedinstead to the stout Saint George in gold armour, just discerniblethrough the grime and dust of the opposite wall. 

The chapel of Pontesordo was indeed as wonderful a storybook as fateever unrolled before the eyes of a neglected and solitary child. For ahundred years or more Pontesordo, a fortified manor of the Dukes ofPianura, had been used as a farmhouse; and the chapel was never openedsave when, on Easter Sunday, a priest came from the town to say mass. Atother times it stood abandoned, cobwebs curtaining the narrow windows, farm tools leaning against the walls, and the dust deep on the sea-godsand acanthus volutes of the altar. The manor of Pontesordo was very old. The country people said that the great warlock Virgil, whosedwelling-place was at Mantua, had once shut himself up for a year in thetopmost chamber of the keep, engaged in unholy researches; and anotherlegend related that Alda, wife of an early lord of Pianura, had thrownherself from its battlements to escape the pursuit of the terribleEzzelino. The chapel adjoined this keep, and Filomena, the farmer'swife, told Odo that it was even older than the tower and that the wallshad been painted by early martyrs who had concealed themselves therefrom the persecutions of the pagan emperors. 

On such questions a child of Odo's age could obviously have nopronounced opinion, the less so as Filomena's facts varied according tothe seasons or her mood, so that on a day of east wind or when the wormswere not hatching well, she had been known to affirm that the pagans hadpainted the chapel under Virgil's instruction, to commemorate theChristians they had tortured. In spite of the distance to which theseconflicting statements seemed to relegate them, Odo somehow felt asthough these pale strange people--youths with ardent faces under theirsmall round caps, damsels with wheat-coloured hair and boys no biggerthan himself, holding spotted dogs in leash--were younger and nearer tohim than the dwellers on the farm: Jacopone the farmer, the shrillFilomena, who was Odo's foster-mother, the hulking bully their son andthe abate who once a week came out from Pianura to give Odo religiousinstruction and who dismissed his questions with the invariableexhortation not to pry into matters that were beyond his years. Odo hadloved the pictures in the chapel all the better since the abate, with ashrug, had told him they were nothing but old rubbish, the work of thebarbarians. 

Life at Pontesordo was in truth not very pleasant for an ardent andsensitive little boy of nine, whose remote connection with the reigningline of Pianura did not preserve him from wearing torn clothes andeating black bread and beans out of an earthen bowl on the kitchendoorstep. 

"Go ask your mother for new clothes!" Filomena would snap at him, whenhis toes came through his shoes and the rents in his jacket-sleeves hadspread beyond darning. "These you are wearing are my Giannozzo's, as youwell know, and every rag on your back is mine, if there were any law forpoor folk, for not a copper of pay for your keep or a stitch of clothingfor your body have we had these two years come Assumption--. What'sthat? You can't ask your mother, you say, because she never comes here?True enough--fine ladies let their brats live in cow-dung, but they musthave Indian carpets under their own feet. Well, ask the abate, then--hehas lace ruffles to his coat and a naked woman painted on his snuffbox--What? He only holds his hands up when you ask? Well, then, go askyour friends on the chapel-walls--maybe they'll give you a pair ofshoes--though Saint Francis, for that matter, was the father of thediscalced, and would doubtless tell you to go without!" And she wouldadd with a coarse laugh: "Don't you know that the discalced are shodwith gold?"

It was after such a scene that the beggar-noble, as they called him atPontesordo, would steal away to the chapel and, seating himself on anupturned basket or a heap of pumpkins, gaze long into the face of themournful saint. 

There was nothing unusual in Odo's lot. It was that of many children inthe eighteenth century, especially those whose parents were cadets ofnoble houses, with an appanage barely sufficient to keep their wives andthemselves in court finery, much less to pay their debts and clothe andeducate their children. All over Italy at that moment, had Odo Valseccabut known it, were lads whose ancestors, like his own, had been dukesand crusaders, but who, none the less, were faring, as he fared, onblack bread and hard blows, and the half-comprehended taunts of unpaidfoster-parents. Many, doubtless, there were who cared little enough, aslong as they might play morro with the farmer's lads and ride the coltbare-back through the pasture and go bird-netting and frog-hunting withthe village children; but some perhaps, like Odo, suffered in a dumbanimal way, without understanding why life was so hard on little boys. 

Odo, for his part, had small taste for the sports in which Gianozzo andthe village lads took pleasure. He shrank from any amusement associatedwith the frightening or hurting of animals, and his bosom swelled withthe fine gentleman's scorn of the clowns who got their fun in so coarsea way. Now and then he found a moment's glee in a sharp tussle with oneof the younger children who had been tormenting a frog or a beetle; buthe was still too young for real fighting, and could only hang on theoutskirts when the bigger boys closed, and think how some day he wouldbe at them and break their lubberly heads. There were thus many hourswhen he turned to the silent consolations of the chapel. So familiar hadhe grown with the images on its walls that he had a name for every one:the King, the Knight, the Lady, the children with guinea-pigs, basilisksand leopards, and lastly the Friend, as he called Saint Francis. Analmond-faced lady on a white palfrey with gold trappings represented hismother, whom he had seen too seldom for any distinct image to interferewith the illusion; a knight in damascened armour and scarlet cloak wasthe valiant captain, his father, who held a commission in the ducalarmy; and a proud young man in diadem and ermine, attended by a retinueof pages, stood for his cousin, the reigning Duke of Pianura. 

A mist, as usual at that hour, was rising from the marshes betweenPontesordo and Pianura, and the light soon ebbed from the saint's face, leaving the chapel in obscurity. Odo had crept there that afternoon witha keener sense than usual of the fact that life was hard on little boys;and though he was cold and hungry and half afraid, the solitude in whichhe cowered seemed more endurable than the noisy kitchen where, at thathour, the farm hands were gathering for their polenta, and Filomena wasscreaming at the frightened orphan who carried the dishes to the table. He knew, of course, that life at Pontesordo would not last forever--that in time he would grow up and be mysteriously transformed intoa young gentleman with a sword and laced coat, who would go to court andperhaps be an officer in the Duke's army or in that of some neighbouringprince; but, viewed from the lowliness of his nine years, that dazzlingprospect was too remote to yield much solace for the cuffs and sneers, the ragged shoes and sour bread of the present. The fog outside hadthickened, and the face of Odo's friend was now discernible only as aspot of pallor in the surrounding dimness. Even he seemed farther awaythan usual, withdrawn into the fog as into that mist of indifferencewhich lay all about Odo's hot and eager spirit. The child sat down amongthe gourds and medlars on the muddy floor and hid his face against hisknees. 

He had sat there a long time when the noise of wheels and the crack of apostillion's whip roused the dogs chained in the stable. Odo's heartbegan to beat. What could the sounds mean? It was as though theflood-tide of the unknown were rising about him and bursting open thechapel door to pour in on his loneliness. It was, in fact, Filomena whoopened the door, crying out to him in an odd Easter Sunday voice, thevoice she used when she had on her silk neckerchief and gold chain orwhen she was talking to the bailiff. 

Odo sprang up and hid his face in her lap. She seemed, of a sudden, nearer to him than any one else--a last barrier between himself and themystery that awaited him outside. 

"Come, you poor sparrow, " she said, dragging him across the threshold ofthe chapel, "the abate is here asking for you;" and she crossed herself, as though she had named a saint. 

Odo pulled away from her with a last wistful glance at Saint Francis, who looked back at him in an ecstasy of commiseration. 

"Come, come, " Filomena repeated, dropping to her ordinary key as shefelt the resistance of the little boy's hand. "Have you no heart, youwicked child? But, to be sure, the poor innocent doesn't know! Comecavaliere, your illustrious mother waits. "

"My mother?" The blood rushed to his face; and she had called him"cavaliere"!

"Not here, my poor lamb! The abate is here; don't you see the lights ofthe carriage? There, there, go to him. I haven't told him, yourreverence; it's my silly tender-heartedness that won't let me. He'salways been like one of my own creatures to me--" and she confounded Odoby bursting into tears. 

The abate stood on the doorstep. He was a tall stout man with a hookednose and lace ruffles. His nostrils were stained with snuff and he tooka pinch from a tortoise-shell box set with the miniature of a lady; thenhe looked down at Odo and shrugged his shoulders. 

Odo was growing sick with apprehension. It was two days before theappointed time for his weekly instruction and he had not prepared hiscatechism. He had not even thought of it--and the abate could use thecane. Odo stood silent and envied girls, who are not disgraced bycrying. The tears were in his throat, but he had fixed principles aboutcrying. It was his opinion that a little boy who was a cavaliere mightweep when he was angry or sorry, but never when he was afraid; so heheld his head high and put his hand to his side, as though to rest it onhis sword. 

The abate sneezed and tapped his snuff-box. 

"Come, come, cavaliere, you must be brave--you must be a man; you haveduties, you have responsibilities. It's your duty to console yourmother--the poor lady is plunged in despair. Eh? What's that? Youhaven't told him? Cavaliere, your illustrious father is no more. "

Odo stared a moment without understanding; then his grief burst from himin a great sob, and he hid himself against Filomena's apron, weeping forthe father in damascened armour and scarlet cloak. 

"Come, come, " said the abate impatiently. "Is supper laid? for we mustbe gone as soon as the mist rises. " He took the little boy by the hand. "Would it not distract your mind to recite the catechism?" he inquired. 

"No, no!" cried Odo with redoubled sobs. 

"Well, then, as you will. What a madman!" he exclaimed to Filomena. "Iwarrant it hasn't seen its father three times in its life. Come in, cavaliere; come to supper. "

Filomena had laid a table in the stone chamber known as the bailiff'sparlour, and thither the abate dragged his charge and set him downbefore the coarse tablecloth covered with earthen platters. A tallow dipthrew its flare on the abate's big aquiline face as he sat opposite Odo, gulping the hastily prepared frittura and the thick purple wine in itswicker flask. Odo could eat nothing. The tears still ran down his cheeksand his whole soul was possessed by the longing to steal back and seewhether the figure of the knight in the scarlet cloak had vanished fromthe chapel wall. The abate sat in silence, gobbling his food like theold black pig in the yard. When he had finished he stood up, exclaiming:"Death comes to us all, as the hawk said to the chicken. You must be aman, cavaliere. " Then he stepped into the kitchen, and called out forthe horses to be put to. 

The farm hands had slunk away to one of the outhouses, and Filomena andJacopone stood bowing and curtseying as the carriage drew up at thekitchen door. In a corner of the big vaulted room the little foundlingwas washing the dishes, heaping the scraps in a bowl for herself and thefowls. Odo ran back and touched her arm. She gave a start and looked athim with frightened eyes. He had nothing to give her, but he said:"Good-bye, Momola"; and he thought to himself that when he was grown upand had a sword he would surely come back and bring her a pair of shoesand a panettone. The abate was calling him, and the next moment he foundhimself lifted into the carriage, amid the blessings and lamentations ofhis foster-parents; and with a great baying of dogs and clacking ofwhipcord the horses clattered out of the farmyard, and turned theirheads toward Pianura. 

The mist had rolled back and fields and vineyards lay bare to the wintermoon. The way was lonely, for it skirted the marsh, where no one lived;and only here and there the tall black shadow of a crucifix ate into thewhiteness of the road. Shreds of vapour still hung about the hollows, but beyond these fold on fold of translucent hills melted into a skydewy with stars. Odo cowered in his corner, staring out awestruck at theunrolling of the strange white landscape. He had seldom been out atnight, and never in a carriage; and there was something terrifying tohim in this flight through the silent moon-washed fields, where no oxenmoved in the furrows, no peasants pruned the mulberries, and not agoat's bell tinkled among the oaks. He felt himself alone in a ghostlyworld from which even the animals had vanished, and at last he avertedhis eyes from the dreadful scene and sat watching the abate, who hadfixed a reading-lamp at his back, and whose hooked-nosed shadow, as thesprings jolted him up and down, danced overhead like the huge Pulcinellaat the fair of Pontesordo. 

1. 2. 

The gleam of a lantern woke Odo. The horses had stopped at the gates ofPianura, and the abate giving the pass-word, the carriage rolled underthe gatehouse and continued its way over the loud cobble-stones of theducal streets. These streets were so dark, being lit but by some lanternprojecting here and there from the angle of a wall, or by the flare ofan oil-lamp under a shrine, that Odo, leaning eagerly out, could onlynow and then catch a sculptured palace-window, the grinning mask on thekeystone of an archway, or the gleaming yellowish facade of a churchinlaid with marbles. Once or twice an uncurtained window showed a groupof men drinking about a wineshop table, or an artisan bending over hiswork by the light of a tallow dip; but for the most part doors andwindows were barred and the streets disturbed only by the watchman's cryor by a flash of light and noise as a sedan chair passed with its escortof linkmen and servants. All this was amazing enough to the sleepy eyesof the little boy so unexpectedly translated from the solitude ofPontesordo; but when the carriage turned under another arch and drew upbefore the doorway of a great building ablaze with lights, the pressureof accumulated emotions made him fling his arms about his preceptor'sneck. 

"Courage, cavaliere, courage! You have duties, you haveresponsibilities, " the abate admonished him; and Odo, choking back hisfright, suffered himself to be lifted out by one of the lacqueys groupedabout the door. The abate, who carried a much lower crest than atPontesordo, and seemed far more anxious to please the servants than theyto oblige him, led the way up a shining marble staircase where beggarswhined on the landings and powdered footmen in the ducal livery wererunning to and fro with trays of refreshments. Odo, who knew that hismother lived in the Duke's palace, had vaguely imagined that hisfather's death must have plunged its huge precincts into silence andmourning; but as he followed the abate up successive flights of stairsand down long corridors full of shadow he heard a sound of dance musicbelow and caught the flash of girandoles through the antechamber doors. The thought that his father's death had made no difference to any one inthe palace was to the child so much more astonishing than any of theother impressions crowding his brain, that these were scarcely felt, andhe passed as in a dream through rooms where servants were quarrellingover cards and waiting-women rummaged in wardrobes full of perfumedfinery, to a bedchamber in which a lady dressed in weeds satdisconsolately at supper. 

"Mamma! Mamma!" he cried, springing forward in a passion of tears. 

The lady, who was young, pale and handsome, pushed back her chair with awarning hand. 

"Child, " she exclaimed, "your shoes are covered with mud; and, goodheavens, how you smell of the stable! Abate, is it thus you teach yourpupil to approach me?"

"Madam, I am abashed by the cavaliere's temerity. But in truth I believeexcessive grief has clouded his wits--'tis inconceivable how he mournshis father!"

Donna Laura's eyebrows rose in a faint smile. "May he never have worseto grieve for!" said she in French; then, extending her scented hand tothe little boy, she added solemnly: "My son, we have suffered anirreparable loss. "

Odo, abashed by her rebuke and the abate's apology, had drawn his heelstogether in a rustic version of the low bow with which the children ofthat day were taught to approach their parents. 

"Holy Virgin!" said his mother with a laugh, "I perceive they have nodancing-master at Pontesordo. Cavaliere, you may kiss my hand. So--that's better; we shall make a gentleman of you yet. But what makesyour face so wet? Ah, crying, to be sure. Mother of God! as for crying, there's enough to cry about. " She put the child aside and turned to thepreceptor. "The Duke refuses to pay, " she said with a shrug of despair. 

"Good heavens!" lamented the abate, raising his hands. "And Don Lelio?"he faltered. 

She shrugged again, impatiently. "As great a gambler as my husband. They're all alike, abate: six times since last Easter has the bill beensent to me for that trifle of a turquoise buckle he made such a to-doabout giving me. " She rose and began to pace the room in disorder. "I'ma ruined woman, " she cried, "and it's a disgrace for the Duke to refuseme. "

The abate raised an admonishing finger. "Excellency... Excellency... "

She glanced over her shoulder. 

"Eh? You're right. Everything is heard here. But who's to pay for mymourning the saints alone know! I sent an express this morning to myfather, but you know my brothers bleed him like leeches. I could havegot this easily enough from the Duke a year ago--it's his marriage hasmade him so stiff. That little white-faced fool--she hates me becauseLelio won't look at her, and she thinks it's my fault. As if I caredwhom he looks at! Sometimes I think he has money put away... All I wantis two hundred ducats... A woman of my rank!" She turned suddenly on Odo, who stood, very small and frightened, in the corner to which she hadpushed him. "What are you staring at, child? Eh! the monkey is droppingwith sleep. Look at his eyes, abate! Here, Vanna, Tonina, to bed withhim; he may sleep with you in my dressing-closet, Tonina. Go with her, child, go; but for God's sake wake him if he snores. I'm too ill to havemy rest disturbed. " And she lifted a pomander to her nostrils. 

The next few days dwelt in Odo's memory as a blur of strange sights andsounds. The super-acute state of his perceptions was succeeded after anight's sleep by the natural passivity with which children accept theimprobable, so that he passed from one novel impression to another aseasily and with the same exhilaration as if he had been listening to afairy tale. Solitude and neglect had no surprises for him, and it seemednatural enough that his mother and her maids should be too busy toremember his presence. 

For the first day or two he sat unnoticed on his little stool in acorner of his mother's room, while packing-chests were dragged in, wardrobes emptied, mantua-makers and milliners consulted, andtroublesome creditors dismissed with abuse, or even blows, by theservants lounging in the ante-chamber. Donna Laura continued to show theliveliest symptoms of concern, but the child perceived her distress tobe but indirectly connected with the loss she had suffered, and he hadseen enough of poverty at the farm to guess that the need of money wassomehow at the bottom of her troubles. How any one could be in want, whoslept between damask curtains and lived on sweet cakes and chocolate, itexceeded his fancy to conceive; yet there were times when his mother'svoice had the same frightened angry sound as Filomena's on the days whenthe bailiff went over the accounts at Pontesordo. 

Her excellency's rooms, during these days, were always crowded, forbesides the dressmakers and other merchants there was the hairdresser, or French Monsu--a loud, important figure, with a bag full of cosmeticsand curling-irons--the abate, always running in and out with messagesand letters, and taking no more notice of Odo than if he had never seenhim, and a succession of ladies brimming with condolences, and eachfollowed by a servant who swelled the noisy crowd of card-playinglacqueys in the ante-chamber. 

Through all these figures came and went another, to Odo the mostnoticeable, --that of a handsome young man with a high manner, dressedalways in black, but with an excess of lace ruffles and jewels, aclouded amber head to his cane, and red heels to his shoes. This younggentleman, whose age could not have been more than twenty, and who hadthe coldest insolent air, was treated with profound respect by all butDonna Laura, who was for ever quarrelling with him when he was present, yet could not support his absence without lamentations and alarm. Theabate appeared to act as messenger between the two, and when he came tosay that the Count rode with the court, or was engaged to sup with thePrime Minister, or had business on his father's estate in the country, the lady would openly yield to her distress, crying out that she knewwell enough what his excuses meant: that she was the most cruellyoutraged of women, and that he treated her no better than a husband. 

For two days Odo languished in his corner, whisked by the women'sskirts, smothered under the hoops and falbalas which the dressmakersunpacked from their cases, fed at irregular hours, and faring on thewhole no better than at Pontesordo. The third morning, Vanna, who seemedthe most good-natured of the women, cried out on his pale looks when shebrought him his cup of chocolate. "I declare, " she exclaimed, "the childhas had no air since he came in from the farm. What does your excellencysay? Shall the hunchback take him for a walk in the gardens?"

To this her excellency, who sat at her toilet under the hair-dresser'shands, irritably replied that she had not slept all night and was in nostate to be tormented about such trifles, but that the child might gowhere he pleased. 

Odo, who was very weary of his corner, sprang up readily enough whenVanna, at this, beckoned him to the inner ante-chamber. Here, wherepersons of a certain condition waited (the outer being given over toservants and tradesmen), they found a lean humpbacked boy, shabbilydressed in darned stockings and a faded coat, but with an extraordinarykeen pale face that at once attracted and frightened the child. 

"There, go with him; he won't eat you, " said Vanna, giving him a push asshe hurried away; and Odo, trembling a little, laid his hand in theboy's. "Where do you come from?" he faltered, looking up into hiscompanion's face. 

The boy laughed and the blood rose to his high cheekbones. "I?--From theInnocenti, if your Excellency knows where that is, " said he. 

Odo's face lit up. "Of course I do, " he cried, reassured. "I know a girlwho comes from there--the Momola at Pontesordo. "

"Ah, indeed?" said the boy with a queer look. "Well, she's my sister, then. Give her my compliments when you see her, cavaliere. Oh, we're alarge family, we are!"

Odo's perplexity was returning. "Are you really Momola's brother?" heasked. 

"Eh, in a way--we're children of the same house. "

"But you live in the palace, don't you?" Odo persisted, his curiositysurmounting his fear. "Are you a servant of my mother's?"

"I'm the servant of your illustrious mother's servants; the abatino ofthe waiting-women. I write their love-letters, do you see, cavaliere, Icarry their rubbish to the pawnbroker's when their sweethearts have bledthem of their savings; I clean the birdcages and feed the monkeys, anddo the steward's accounts when he's drunk, and sleep on a bench in theportico and steal my food from the pantry... And my father very likelygoes in velvet and carries a sword at his side. "

The boy's voice had grown shrill, and his eyes blazed like an owl's inthe dark. Odo would have given the world to be back in his corner, buthe was ashamed to betray his lack of heart; and to give himself couragehe asked haughtily: "And what is your name, boy?"

The hunchback gave him a gleaming look. "Call me Brutus, " he cried, "forBrutus killed a tyrant. " He gave Odo's hand a pull. "Come along, " saidhe, "and I'll show you his statue in the garden--Brutus's statue in aprince's garden, mind you!" And as the little boy trotted at his sidedown the long corridors he kept repeating under his breath in a kind ofangry sing-song, "For Brutus killed a tyrant. "

The sense of strangeness inspired by his odd companion soon gave way inOdo's mind to emotions of delight and wonder. He was, even at that age, unusually sensitive to external impressions, and when the hunchback, after descending many stairs and winding through endless back-passages, at length led him out on a terrace above the gardens, the beauty of thesight swelled his little heart to bursting. 

A Duke of Pianura had, some hundred years earlier, caused a great wingto be added to his palace by the eminent architect Carlo Borromini, andthis accomplished designer had at the same time replanted and enlargedthe ducal gardens. To Odo, who had never seen plantations more artfulthan the vineyards and mulberry orchards about Pontesordo, theseperspectives of clipped beech and yew, these knots of box filled in withmulti-coloured sand, appeared, with the fountains, colonnades andtrellised arbours surmounted by globes of glass, to represent the verypattern and Paradise of gardens. It seemed indeed too beautiful to bereal, and he trembled, as he sometimes did at the music of the Eastermass, when the hunchback, laughing at his amazement, led him down theterrace steps. 

It was Odo's lot in after years to walk the alleys of many a splendidgarden, and to pace, often wearily enough, the paths along which he wasnow led; but never after did he renew the first enchanted impression ofmystery and brightness that remained with him as the most vivid emotionof his childhood. 

Though it was February the season was so soft that the orange and lemontrees had been put out in their earthen vases before the lemon-house, and the beds in the parterres were full of violets, daffodils andauriculas; but the scent of the orange-blossoms and the bright coloursof the flowers moved Odo less than the noble ordonnance of the pleachedalleys, each terminated by a statue or a marble seat; and when he cameto the grotto where, amid rearing sea-horses and Tritons, a cascadepoured from the grove above, his wonder passed into such delicious aweas hung him speechless on the hunchback's hand. 

"Eh, " said the latter with a sneer, "it's a finer garden than we have atour family palace. Do you know what's planted there?" he asked, turningsuddenly on the little boy. "Dead bodies, cavaliere! Rows and rows ofthem; the bodies of my brothers and sisters, the Innocents who die likeflies every year of the cholera and the measles and the putrid fever. "He saw the terror in Odo's face and added in a gentler tone: "Eh, don'tcry, cavaliere; they sleep better in those beds than in any othersthey're like to lie on. Come, come, and I'll show your excellency theaviaries. "

From the aviaries they passed to the Chinese pavilion, where the Dukesupped on summer evenings, and thence to the bowling-alley, thefish-stew and the fruit-garden. At every step some fresh surprisearrested Odo; but the terrible vision of that other garden planted withthe dead bodies of the Innocents robbed the spectacle of its brightness, dulled the plumage of the birds behind their gilt wires and cast adeeper shade over the beech-grove, where figures of goat-faced menlurked balefully in the twilight. Odo was glad when they left theblackness of this grove for the open walks, where gardeners were workingand he had the reassurance of the sky. The hunchback, who seemed sorrythat he had frightened him, told him many curious stories about themarble images that adorned the walks; and pausing suddenly before one ofa naked man with a knife in his hand, cried out in a frenzy: "This is mynamesake, Brutus!" But when Odo would have asked if the naked man was akinsman, the boy hurried him on, saying only: "You'll read of him someday in Plutarch. "

1. 3. 

Odo, next morning, under the hunchback's guidance, continued hisexploration of the palace. His mother seemed glad to be rid of him, andVanna packing him off early, with the warning that he was not to fallinto the fishponds or get himself trampled by the horses, he guessed, with a thrill, that he had leave to visit the stables. Here in fact thetwo boys were soon making their way among the crowd of grooms andstrappers in the yard, seeing the Duke's carriage-horses groomed, andthe Duchess's cream-coloured hackney saddled for her ride in the chase;and at length, after much lingering and gazing, going on to theharness-rooms and coach-house. The state-carriages, with their carvedand gilt wheels, their panels gay with flushed divinities and theirstupendous velvet hammer-cloths edged with bullion, held Odo spellbound. He had a born taste for splendour, and the thought that he might one daysit in one of these glittering vehicles puffed his breast with pride andmade him address the hunchback with sudden condescension. "When I'm aman I shall ride in these carriages, " he said; whereat the other laughedand returned good-humouredly: "Eh, that's not so much to boast of, cavaliere; I shall ride in a carriage one of these days myself. " Odostared, not over-pleased, and the boy added: "When I'm carried to thechurchyard, I mean, " with a chuckle of relish at the joke. 

From the stables they passed to the riding-school, with its opengalleries supported on twisted columns, where the duke's gentlemenmanaged their horses and took their exercise in bad weather. Severalrode there that morning; and among them, on a fine Arab, Odo recognisedthe young man in black velvet who was so often in Donna Laura'sapartments. 

"Who's that?" he whispered, pulling the hunchback's sleeve, as thegentleman, just below them, made his horse execute a brilliant balotade. 

"That? Bless the innocent! Why, the Count Lelio Trescorre, yourillustrious mother's cavaliere servente. "

Odo was puzzled, but some instinct of reserve withheld him from furtherquestions. The hunchback, however, had no such scruples. "They do say, though, " he went on, "that her Highness has her eye on him, and in thatcase I'll wager your illustrious mamma has no more chance than a sparrowagainst a hawk. "

The boy's words were incomprehensible, but the vague sense that somedanger might be threatening his mother's friend made Odo whisper: "Whatwould her Highness do to him?"

"Make him a prime-minister, cavaliere, " the hunchback laughed. 

Odo's guide, it appeared, was not privileged to conduct him through thestate apartments of the palace, and the little boy had now been fourdays under the ducal roof without catching so much as a glimpse of hissovereign and cousin. The very next morning, however, Vanna swept himfrom his trundle-bed with the announcement that he was to be received bythe Duke that day, and that the tailor was now waiting to try on hiscourt dress. He found his mother propped against her pillows, drinkingchocolate, feeding her pet monkey and giving agitated directions to themaidservants on their knees before the open carriage-trunks. Herexcellency informed Odo that she had that moment received an expressfrom his grandfather, the old Marquess di Donnaz; that they were tostart next morning for the castle of Donnaz, and that he was to bepresented to the Duke as soon as his Highness had risen from dinner. Aplump purse lay on the coverlet, and her countenance wore an air ofkindness and animation which, together with the prospect of wearing acourt dress and travelling to his grandfather's castle in the mountains, so worked on Odo's spirits that, forgetting the abate's instructions, hesprang to her with an eager caress. 

"Child, child, " was her only rebuke; and she added, with a tap on hischeek: "It is lucky I shall have a sword to protect me. "

Long before the hour Odo was buttoned into his embroidered coat andwaistcoat. He would have on the sword at once, and when they sat down todinner, though his mother pressed him to eat with more concern than shehad before shown, it went hard with him to put his weapon aside, and hecast longing eyes at the corner where it lay. At length a chamberlainsummoned them and they set out down the corridors, attended by twoservants. Odo held his head high, with one hand leading Donna Laura (forhe would not appear to be led by her) while the other fingered hissword. The deformed beggars who always lurked about the great staircasefawned on them as they passed, and on a landing they crossed thehumpbacked boy, who grinned mockingly at Odo; but the latter, with hischin up, would not so much as glance at him. 

A master of ceremonies in short black cloak and gold chain received themin the antechamber of the Duchess's apartments, where the court playedlansquenet after dinner; the doors of her Highness's closet were thrownopen, and Odo, now glad enough to cling to his mother's hand, foundhimself in a tall room, with gods and goddesses in the clouds overheadand personages as supra-terrestrial seated in gilt armchairs about asmoking brazier. Before one of these, to whom Donna Laura sweptsuccessive curtsies in advancing, the frightened cavaliere found himselfdragged with his sword between his legs. He ducked his head like the olddrake diving for worms in the puddle at the farm, and when at last hedared look up, it was to see an odd sallow face, half-smothered in animmense wig, bowing back at him with infinite ceremony--and Odo's heartsank to think that this was his sovereign. 

The Duke was in fact a sickly narrow-faced young man with thickobstinate lips and a slight lameness that made his walk ungainly; butthough no way resembling the ermine-cloaked king of the chapel atPontesordo, he yet knew how to put on a certain majesty with his statewig and his orders. As for the newly married Duchess, who sat at theother end of the cabinet caressing a toy spaniel, she was scant fourteenand looked a mere child in her great hoop and jewelled stomacher. Herwonderful fair hair, drawn over a cushion and lightly powdered, wastwisted with pearls and roses, and her cheeks excessively rouged, in theFrench fashion; so that as she arose on the approach of the visitors shelooked to Odo for all the world like the wooden Virgin hung with votiveofferings in the parish church at Pontesordo. Though they were but threemonths married the Duke, it was rumoured, was never with her, preferringthe company of the young Marquess of Cerveno, his cousin andheir-presumptive, a pale boy scented with musk and painted like acomedian, whom his Highness would never suffer away from him and who nowleaned with an impertinent air against the back of the ducal armchair. 

On the other side of the brazier sat the dowager Duchess, the Duke'sgrandmother, an old lady so high and forbidding of aspect that Odo castbut one look at her face, which was yellow and wrinkled as a medlar, andsurmounted, in the Spanish style, with black veils and a high coif. Whatthese alarming personages said and did, the child could never recall;nor were his own actions clear to him, except for a furtive caress thathe remembered giving the spaniel as he kissed the Duchess's hand;whereupon her Highness snatched up the pampered animal and walked awaywith a pout of anger. Odo noticed that her angry look followed him as heand Donna Laura withdrew; but the next moment he heard the Duke's voiceand saw his Highness limping after them. 

"You must have a furred cloak for your journey, cousin, " said heawkwardly, pressing something in the hand of Odo's mother, who brokeinto fresh compliments and curtsies, while the Duke, with a finger onhis thick lip, withdrew hastily into the closet. 

The next morning early they set out on their journey. There had beenfrost in the night and a cold sun sparkled on the palace windows and onthe marble church-fronts as their carriage lumbered through the streets, now full of noise and animation. It was Odo's first glimpse of the townby daylight, and he clapped his hands with delight at sight of thepeople picking their way across the reeking gutters, the asses ladenwith milk and vegetables, the servant-girls bargaining at theprovision-stalls, the shop-keepers' wives going to mass in pattens andhoods, with scaldini in their muffs, the dark recessed openings in thepalace basements, where fruit sellers, wine-merchants and coppersmithsdisplayed their wares, the pedlars hawking books and toys, and here andthere a gentleman in a sedan chair returning flushed and disordered froma night at bassett or faro. The travelling-carriage was escorted byhalf-a-dozen of the Duke's troopers and Don Lelio rode at the doorfollowed by two grooms. He wore a furred coat and boots, and never, toOdo, had he appeared more proud and splendid; but Donna Laura had hardlya word for him, and he rode with the set air of a man who acquitshimself of a troublesome duty. 

Outside the gates the spectacle seemed tame in comparison; for the roadbent toward Pontesordo, and Odo was familiar enough with the look of thebare fields, set here and there with oak-copses to which the leavesstill clung. As the carriage skirted the marsh his mother raised thewindows, exclaiming that they must not expose themselves to thepestilent air; and though Odo was not yet addicted to generalreflections, he could not but wonder that she should display such dreadof an atmosphere she had let him breathe since his birth. He knew ofcourse that the sunset vapours on the marsh were unhealthy: everybody onthe farm had a touch of the ague, and it was a saying in the villagethat no one lived at Pontesordo who could buy an ass to carry him away;but that Donna Laura, in skirting the place on a clear morning of frost, should show such fear of infection, gave a sinister emphasis to theill-repute of the region. 

The thought, he knew not why, turned his mind to Momola, who often ondamp evenings sat shaking and burning in the kitchen corner. Hereflected with a pang that he might never see her again, and leaningforward he strained his eyes for a glimpse of Pontesordo. They werepassing through a patch of oaks; but where these ended the countryopened, and beyond a belt of osiers and the mottled faded stretches ofthe marsh the keep stood up like a beckoning finger. Odo cried out asthough in answer to its call; but that moment the road turned a knolland bent across rising ground toward an unfamiliar region. 

"Thank God!" cried his mother, lowering the window, "we're rid of thatpoison and can breath the air. "

As the keep vanished Odo reproached himself for not having begged a pairof shoes for Momola. He had felt very sorry for her since the hunchbackhad spoken so strangely of life at the foundling hospital; and he had asudden vision of her bare feet, pinched with cold and cut with thepebbles of the yard, perpetually running across the damp stone floors, with Filomena crying after her: "Hasten then, child of iniquity! Youare slower than a day without bread!" He had almost resolved to speak ofthe foundling to his mother, who still seemed in a condescending humour;but his attention was unexpectedly distracted by a troop of Egyptians, who came along the road leading a dancing bear; and hardly had thesepassed when the chariot of an itinerant dentist engaged him. The wholeway, indeed, was alive with such surprises; and at Valsecca, where theydined, they found the yard of the inn crowded with the sumpter-mules andservants of a cardinal travelling to Rome, who was to lie there thatnight and whose bedstead and saucepans had preceded him. 

Here, after dinner, Don Lelio took leave of Odo's mother, with smallshow of regret on either side; the lady high and sarcastic, thegentleman sullen and polite; and both, as it seemed, easier when thebusiness was despatched and the Count's foot in the stirrup. He had sofar taken little notice of Odo, but he now bent from the saddle andtapped the boy's cheek, saying in his cold way: "In a few years I shallsee you at court;" and with that rode away toward Pianura. 

1. 4. 

Lying that night at Pavia, the travellers set forward next morning forthe city of Vercelli. The road, though it ran for the most part throughflat mulberry orchards and rice-fields reflecting the pale blue sky intheir sodden channels, would yet have appeared diverting enough to Odo, had his mother been in the mood to reply to his questions; for whethertheir carriage overtook a party of strolling jugglers, travelling in aroofed-in waggon, with the younger children of the company runningalongside in threadbare tights and trunkhose decked with tinsel; orwhether they drove through a village market-place, where yellow earthencrocks and gaudy Indian cottons, brass pails and braziers and plattersof bluish pewter, filled the stalls with a medley of colour--at everyturn was something that excited the boy's wonder; but Donna Laura, whohad fallen into a depression of spirits, lamenting the cold, hermisfortunes and the discomfort of the journey, was at no more pains thanthe abate to satisfy the promptings of his curiosity. 

Odo had indeed met but one person who cared to listen to him, and thatwas the strange hunchback who had called himself Brutus. Remembering howentertainingly this odd guide had explained all the wonders of the ducalgrounds, Odo began to regret that he had not asked his mother to let himhave Brutus for a body-servant. Meanwhile no one attended to hisquestions and the hours were beginning to seem long when, on the thirdday, they set out from Vercelli toward the hills. The cold increased asthey rose; and Odo, though he had often wished to see the mountains, wasyet dismayed at the gloomy and menacing aspect of the region on whichthey were entering. Leafless woods, prodigious boulders and whitetorrents foaming and roaring seemed a poor exchange for thepleasantly-ordered gardens of Pianura. Here were no violets and cowslipsin bloom; hardly a green blade pierced the sodden roadside, andsnowdrifts lingered in the shaded hollows. 

Donna Laura's loudly expressed fear of robbers seemed to increase theloneliness of the way, which now traversed tracts of naked moorland, nowplunged again into forest, with no sign of habitation but here and therea cowherd's hut under the trees or a chapel standing apart on somegrassy eminence. When night fell the waters grew louder, a stinging windswept the woods, and the carriage, staggering from rut to rut, seemedevery moment about to land them in some invisible ravine. Fear and coldat last benumbed the little boy, and when he woke he was being liftedfrom his seat and torches were flashing on a high escutcheoned doorwayset in battlemented walls. He was carried into a hall lit with smokyoil-lamps and hung with armour and torn banners. 

Here, among a group of rough-looking servants, a tall old man in anightcap and furred gown was giving orders in a loud passionate voice. This personage, who was of a choleric complexion, with a face likemottled red marble, seized Odo by the wrist and led him up a flight ofstairs so worn and slippery that he tripped at every step; thence down acorridor and into a gloomy apartment where three ladies shivered about atable set with candles. Bidden by the old gentleman to salute hisgrandmother and great-aunts, Odo bowed over three wrinkled hands, onefat and soft as a toad's stomach, the others yellow and dry aslemon-skins. His mother embraced the ladies in the same humble manner, and the Marquess, first furiously calling for supper, thrust Odo down ona stool in the ingle. 

From this point of observation the child, now vividly awake, noted thehangings of faded tapestry that heaved in the draught, the ceiling ofbeams and the stone floor strewn with rushes. The candle-lightflickering on the faces of his aged relatives showed his grandmother tobe a pale heavy-cheeked person with little watchful black eyes which shedropped at her husband's approach; while the two great-aunts, seatedside by side in high-backed chairs with their feet on braziers, remindedOdo of the narrow elongated saints squeezed into the niches of achurch-door. The old Marchioness wore the high coif and veil of theprevious century; the aunts, who, as Odo afterwards learned, werecanonesses of a noble order, were habited in a semi-conventual dress, with crosses hanging on their bosoms; and none spoke but when theMarquess addressed them. 

Their timidity appeared to infect Odo's mother, who, from her habitualvolubility of temper, sank to a mood of like submissiveness. A supper ofvenison and goat's cheese was not designed to restore her spirits, andwhen at length she and Odo had withdrawn to their cavernous bedchamber, she flung herself weeping on the bed and declared she must die if sheremained long in this prison. 

Falling asleep under such influences, it was the more wonderful to Odoto wake with the sun on his counterpane, a sweet noise of streamsthrough the casement and the joyous barking of hounds in the castlecourt. From the window-seat he looked out on a scene extraordinarilynovel to his lowland eyes. The chamber commanded the wooded steep belowthe castle, with a stream looping its base; beyond, the pastures slopedpleasantly under walnut trees, with here and there a clearing ploughedfor the spring crops and a sunny ledge or two planted with vines. Abovethis pastoral landscape, bare crags upheld a snowpeak; and, as if tolend a human interest to the scene, the old Marquess, his flintlock onhis shoulder, his dogs and beaters at his heels, now rode across thevalley. 

Wonder succeeded to wonder that first morning; for there was the castleto be seen, with the kennels and stables roughly kept, but full of dogsand horses; and Odo, in the Marquess's absence, was left free to visitevery nook of his new home. Pontesordo, though perhaps as ancient asDonnaz, was but a fortified manor in the plain; but here was theturreted border castle, bristling at the head of the gorge like thefangs in a boar's throat: its walls overhung by machicolations, itsportcullis still dropped at nightfall, and the loud stream forming anatural moat at its base. Through the desert spaces of this greatstructure Odo wandered at will, losing himself in its network of barechambers, some now put to domestic uses, with smoked meats hanging fromthe rafters, cheeses ranged on shelves and farmer's implements stackedon the floor; others abandoned to bats and spiders, with slit-likeopenings choked by a growth of wild cherries, and little animalsscurrying into their holes as Odo opened the unused doors. At the nextturn he mounted by a winding stair to the platform behind thebattlements, whence he could look down on the inner court, where horseswere being groomed, dogs fed, harnesses mended, and platters of smokingfood carried from the kitchen to the pantry; or, leaning another way, discovered, between the cliff and the rampart a tiny walled garden withfruit-trees and a sundial. 

The ladies kept to themselves in a corner of the castle, where the roomswere hung with tapestry and a few straight-backed chairs stood about thehearth; but even here no fires were suffered till nightfall, nor wasthere so much as a carpet in the castle. Odo's grandmother, the oldMarchioness, a heavy woman who would doubtless have enjoyed her ease ina cushioned seat, was afoot all day attending to her household; forbesides the dairy and the bakehouse and the stillroom where fruits werestewed and pastes prepared, there was the great spinning-room full ofdistaffs and looms, where the women spun and wove all the linen used inthe castle and the coarse stuffs worn by its inmates; with workshops forthe cobbler and tailor who clothed and shod the Marquess and hishousehold. All these the Marchioness must visit, and attend to herdevotions between; the ladies being governed by a dark-faced priest, their chaplain and director, who kept them perpetually running along thecold stone corridors to the chapel in a distant wing, where they kneltwithout so much as a brazier to warm them or a cushion to their knees. As to the chapel, though larger and loftier than that of Pontesordo, with a fine carved and painted tabernacle and many silver candlesticks, it seemed to Odo, by reason of its bare walls, much less beautiful thanthat deserted oratory; nor did he, amid all the novelty of hissurroundings, cease to regret the companionship of his familiar images. 

His delight was the greater, therefore, when, exploring a part of thecastle now quite abandoned, he came one day on a vaulted chamber used asa kind of granary, where, under layers of dirt and cobwebs, lovelycountenances flowered from the walls. The scenes depicted differedindeed from those of Pontesordo, being less animated and homely and moredifficult for a child to interpret; for here were naked laurel-crownedknights on prancing horses, nimble goat-faced creatures grouped inadoration round a smoking altar and youths piping to saffron-haireddamsels on grass-banks set with poplars. The very strangeness of thefable set forth perhaps engaged the child's fancy; or the benignantmildness of the countenances, so unlike the eager individual faces ofthe earlier artist; for he returned again and again to gaze unweariedlyon the inhabitants of that tranquil grassy world, studying every inch ofthe walls and with much awe and fruitless speculation deciphering on thehem of a floating drapery the inscription: Bernardinus Lovinus pinxit. 

His impatience to know more of the history of these paintings led him toquestion an old man, half house-servant, half huntsman, now too infirmfor service and often to be found sunning himself in the court with anold hound's chin on his knee. The old man, whose name was Bruno, toldhim the room in question had been painted for the Marquess Gualberto diDonnaz, who had fought under the Duke of Milan hundreds of years before:a splendid and hospitable noble, patron of learning and the arts, whohad brought the great Milanese painter to Donnaz and kept him there awhole summer adorning the banqueting-room. "But I advise you, littlemaster, " Bruno added, "not to talk too loudly of your discovery; for welive in changed days, do you see, and it seems those are pagan sorcerersand witches painted on the wall, and because of that, and theirnakedness, the chaplain has forbidden all the young boys and wenchesabout the place to set foot there; and the Marchioness herself, I'mtold, doesn't enter without leave. "

This was the more puzzling to Odo that he had seen so many naked pagans, in colours and marble, at his cousin's palace of Pianura, where theywere praised as the chief ornament of that sumptuous fabric; but he keptBruno's warning in mind and so timed his visits that they escaped thechaplain's observation. Whether this touch of mystery added charm to thepaintings; or whether there was already forming in him what afterwardbecame an instinctive resistance to many of the dictates of his age;certain it is that, even after he had been privileged to admire thestupendous works of the Caracci at Parma and of the immortal GiulioRomano at Mantua, Odo's fancy always turned with peculiar fondness tothe clear-limbed youths moving in that world of untroubled beauty. 

Odo, the day after his arrival at Donnaz, learned that the chaplain wasto be his governor; and he was not long in discovering that the systemof that ecclesiastic bore no resemblance to the desultory methods of hisformer pedagogue. It was not that Don Gervaso was a man of superioracquirements: in writing, ciphering and the rudiments of Latin he seemedlittle likely to carry Odo farther than the other; but in religiousinstruction he suffered no negligence or inattention. His piety was of astamp so different from the abate's that it vivified the theologicalabstractions over which Odo had formerly languished, infusing apassionate meaning into the formulas of the textbooks. His discoursebreathed the same spirit, and had his religion been warmed byimagination or tempered by charity the child had been a ductilesubstance in his hands; but the shadow of the Council of Trent stillhung over the Church in Savoy, making its approach almost as sombre andforbidding as that of the Calvinist heresy. As it was, the fascinationthat drew Odo to the divine teachings was counteracted by a depressingawe: he trembled in God's presence almost as much as in hisgrandfather's, and with the same despair of discovering what course ofaction was most likely to call down the impending wrath. The beauty ofthe Church's offices, now for the first time revealed to him in thewell-ordered services of the chapel, was doubly moving in contrast withthe rude life at Donnaz; but his confessions tortured him and thepenances which the chaplain inflicted abased without reforming hisspirit. 

Next to the mass, the books Don Gervaso lent him were his chiefpleasure: the Lives of the Saints, Cardinal Bellarmine's Fables and TheMirror of true Penitence. The Lives of the Saints fed at once hisimagination and his heart, and over the story of Saint Francis, nowfirst made known to him, he trembled with delicious sympathy. Thelonging to found a hermitage like the Portiuncula among the savage rocksof Donnaz, and live there in gentle communion with plants and animals, alternated in him with the martial ambition to ride forth against theChurch's enemies, as his ancestors had ridden against the bloody andpestilent Waldenses; but whether his piety took the passive or theaggressive form, it always shrank from the subtleties of doctrine. Tolive like the saints, rather than to reason like the fathers, was hisideal of Christian conduct; if indeed a vague pity for sufferingcreatures and animals was not the source of his monastic yearnings, anda desire to see strange countries the secret of his zeal against theinfidel. 

The chaplain, though reproving his lukewarmness in matters of dogma, could not but commend his devotion to the saints; and one day hisgrandmother, to reward him for some act of piety, informed him withtears of joy that he was destined for holy orders, and that she had goodhopes of living to see him a bishop. This news had hardly the intendedeffect; for Odo's dream was of the saint's halo rather than the bishop'smitre; and throwing himself on his knees before the old Marquess, whowas present, he besought that he might be allowed to join the Franciscanorder. The Marquess at this flew into so furious a rage, cursing themeddlesomeness of women and the chaplain's bigotry, that the ladiesburst into tears and Odo's swelling zeal turned small. There was indeedbut one person in the castle who seemed not to regard its master'sviolences, and that was the dark-faced chaplain, who, when the Marquesshad paused out of breath, tranquilly returned that nothing could makehim repent of having brought a soul to Christ, and that, as to thecavaliere Odo, if his maker designed him for a religious, the Popehimself could not cross his vocation. 

"Ay, ay! vocation, " snarled the Marquess. "You and the women here shutthe child up between you and stuff his ears full of monkish stories andmiracles and the Lord knows what, and then talk of the simpleton'svocation. His vocation, nom de Dieu, is to be an abbot first, and then amonsignore, and then a bishop, if he can--and to the devil with yourcowls and cloisters!" And he gave orders that Odo should hunt with himnext morning. 

The chaplain smiled. "Hubert was a huntsman, " said he, "and yet he dieda saint. "

From that time forth the old Marquess kept Odo oftener at his side, making his grandson ride with him about his estates and on suchhunting-parties as were not beyond the boy's strength. The domain ofDonnaz included many a mile of vine and forest, over which, till thefifteenth century, its lords had ruled as sovereign Marquesses. Theystill retained a part of their feudal privileges, and Odo's grandfather, tenacious of these dwindling rights, was for ever engaged in vaincontests with his peasantry. To see these poor creatures cursed andbrow-beaten, their least offences punished, their few claims disputed, must have turned Odo's fear of his grandfather to hatred, had he notobserved that the old man gave with one hand what he took with theother, so that, in his dealings with his people, he resembled one ofthose torrents which now devastate and now enrich their banks. TheMarquess, in fact, while he held obstinately to his fishing rights, prosecuted poachers, enforced the corvee and took toll at every ford, yet laboured to improve his lands, exterminated the wild beasts thatpreyed on them, helped his peasants in sickness, nourished them in oldage and governed them with a paternal tyranny doubtless lessinsufferable than the negligence of the great land-owners who lived atcourt. 

To Odo, however, these rides among the tenantry were less agreeable thanthe hunting-expeditions which carried them up the mountain in thesolitude of morning. Here the wild freshness of the scene and theexhilaration of pursuit roused the fighting strain in the boy's blood, and so stirred his memory with tales of prowess that sometimes, as theyclimbed the stony defiles in the clear shadow before sunrise, he fanciedhimself riding forth to exterminate the Waldenses who, according to thechaplain, still lurked like basilisks and dragons in the recesses of themountains. Certain it is that his rides with the old Marquess, if theyinflamed his zeal against heresy, cooled the ardour of his monasticvocation; and if he pondered on his future, it was to reflect thatdoubtless he would some day be a bishop, and that bishops wereterritorial lords, we might hunt the wolf and boar in their own domains. 

1. 5. 

Reluctantly, every year about the Epiphany, the old Marquess rode downfrom Donnaz to spend two months in Turin. It was a service exacted byKing Charles Emanuel, who viewed with a jealous eye those of his noblesinclined to absent themselves from court and rewarded their presencewith privileges and preferments. At the same time the two canonessesdescended to their abbey in the plain, and thus with the closing in ofwinter the old Marchioness, Odo and his mother were left alone in thecastle. 

To the Marchioness this was an agreeable period of spiritual compunctionand bodily repose; but to Donna Laura a season of despair. The poorlady, who had been early removed from the rough life at Donnaz to theluxurious court of Pianura, and was yet in the fulness of youth andvivacity, could not resign herself to an existence no better, as shedeclared, than that of any herdsman's wife upon the mountains. Here wasneither music nor cards, scandal nor love-making; no news of thefashions, no visits from silk-mercers or jewellers, no Monsu to curl herhair and tempt her with new lotions, or so much as a strollingsoothsayer or juggler to lighten the dullness of the long afternoons. The only visitors to the castle were the mendicant friars drawn thitherby the Marchioness's pious repute; and though Donna Laura disdained notto call these to her chamber and question them for news, yet theircountry-side scandals were no more to her fancy than the two-penny waresof the chapmen who unpacked their baubles on the kitchen hearth. 

She pined for some word of Pianura; but when a young abate, who hadtouched there on his way from Tuscany, called for a night at the castleto pay his duty to Don Gervaso, the word he brought with him of thebirth of an heir to the duchy was so little to Donna Laura's humour thatshe sprang up from the supper-table, and crying out to the astonishedOdo, "Ah, now you are for the Church indeed, " withdrew in disorder toher chamber. The abate, who ascribed her commotion to a sudden seizure, continued to retail the news of Pianura, and Odo, listening with hiselders, learned that Count Lelio Trescorre had been appointed Master ofthe Horse, to the indignation of the Bishop, who desired the place forhis nephew, Don Serafino; that the Duke and Duchess were never together;that the Duchess was suspected of being in secret correspondence withthe Austrians, and that the young Marquess of Cerveno was gone to thebaths of Lucca to recover from an attack of tertian fever contracted theprevious autumn at the Duke's hunting-lodge near Pontesordo. Odolistened for some mention of his humpbacked friend, or of Momola thefoundling; but the abate's talk kept a higher level and no one less thana cavaliere figured on his lips. He was the only visitor of quality whocame that winter to Donnaz, and after his departure a fixed gloomsettled on Donna Laura's spirits. Dusk at that season fell early in thegorge, fierce winds blew off the glaciers, and Donna Laura sat shiveringand lamenting on one side of the hearth, while the old Marchioness, onthe other, strained her eyes over an embroidery in which the patternrepeated itself like the invocations of a litany, and Don Gervaso, nearthe smoking oil-lamp, read aloud from the Glories of Mary or the Way ofPerfection of Saint Theresa. 

On such evenings Odo, stealing from the tapestry parlour, would seek outBruno, who sat by the kitchen hearth with the old hound's nose at hisfeet. The kitchen, indeed, on winter nights, was the pleasantest placein the castle. The fire-light from its great stone chimney shone on thestrings of maize and bunches of dried vegetables that hung from the roofand on the copper kettles and saucepans ranged along the wall. The windraged against the shutters of the unglazed windows, and themaid-servants, distaff in hand, crowded closer to the blaze, listeningto the songs of some wandering fiddler or to the stories of aruddy-nosed Capuchin monk who was being regaled, by the steward'sorders, on a supper of tripe and mulled wine. The Capuchin's tales, toldin the Piedmontese jargon, and seasoned with strange allusions andboisterous laughter, were of little interest to Odo, who would creepinto the ingle beside Bruno and beg for some story of his ancestors. Theold man was never weary of rehearsing the feats and gestures of thelords of Donnaz, and Odo heard again and again how they had fought thesavage Switzers north of the Alps and the Dauphin's men in the west; howthey had marched with Savoy against Montferrat and with France againstthe Republic of Genoa. Better still he liked to hear of the MarquessGualberto, who had been the Duke of Milan's ally and had brought homethe great Milanese painter to adorn his banqueting-room at Donnaz. Thelords of Donnaz had never been noted for learning, and Odo's grandfatherwas fond of declaring that a nobleman need not be a scholar; but thegreat Marquess Gualberto, if himself unlettered, had been the patron ofpoets and painters and had kept learned clerks to write down the annalsof his house on parchment painted by the monks. These annals were lockedin the archives, under Don Gervaso's care; but Odo learned from the oldservant that some of the great Marquess's books had lain for years on anupper shelf in the vestry off the chapel; and here one day, with Bruno'said, the little boy dislodged from a corner behind the missals andaltar-books certain sheepskin volumes clasped in blackened silver. Thecomeliest of these, which bore on their title-page a dolphin curledabout an anchor, were printed in unknown characters; but on opening thesmaller volumes Odo felt the same joyous catching of the breath as whenhe had stepped out on the garden-terrace at Pianura. For here indeedwere gates leading to a land of delectation: the country of the giantMorgante, the enchanted island of Avillion, the court of the Soldan andthe King's palace at Camelot. 

In this region Odo spent many blissful hours. His fancy ranged in thewake of heroes and adventurers who, for all he knew, might still befeasting and fighting north of the Alps, or might any day with a blastof their magic horns summon the porter to the gates of Donnaz. Foremostamong them, a figure towering above even Rinaldo, Arthur and the EmperorFrederic, was that Conrad, father of Conradin, whose sayings are setdown in the old story-book of the Cento Novelle, "the flower of gentlespeech. " There was one tale of King Conrad that the boy never forgot:how the King, in his youth, had always about him a company of twelvelads of his own age; how when Conrad did wrong, his governors, insteadof punishing him, beat his twelve companions; and how, on the youngKing's asking what the lads were being punished for, the pedagoguesreplied:

"For your Majesty's offences. "

"And why do you punish my companions instead of me?"

"Because you are our lord and master, " he was told. 

At this the King fell to thinking, and thereafter, it is said, in pityfor those who must suffer in his stead he set close watch on himself, lest his sinning should work harm to others. This was the story of KingConrad; and much as Odo loved the clash of arms and joyous feats ofpaladins rescuing fair maids in battle, yet Conrad's seemed to him, eventhen, a braver deed than these. 

In March of the second year the old Marquess, returning from Turin, wasaccompanied, to the surprise of all, by the fantastical figure of anelderly gentleman in the richest travelling dress, with one of the newFrench toupets, a thin wrinkled painted face, and emitting with everymovement a prodigious odour of millefleurs. This visitor, who wasattended by his French barber and two or three liveried servants, theMarquess introduced as the lord of Valdu, a neighbouring seigneurie ofno great account. Though his lands marched with the Marquess's, it wasyears since the Count had visited Donnaz, being one of the King'schamberlains and always in attendance on his Majesty; and it was amazingto see with what smirks and grimaces, and ejaculations in PiedmonteseFrench, he complimented the Marchioness on her appearance, and exclaimedat the magnificence of the castle, which must doubtless have appeared tohim little better than a cattle-grange. His talk was unintelligible toOdo, but there was no mistaking the nature of the glances he fixed onDonna Laura, who, having fled to her room on his approach, presentlydescended in a ravishing new sacque, with an air of extreme surprise, and her hair curled (as Odo afterward learned) by the Count's ownbarber. 

Odo had never seen his mother look handsomer. She sparkled at theCount's compliments, embraced her father, playfully readjusted hermother's coif, and in the prettiest way made their excuses to the Countfor the cold draughts and bare floors of the castle. "For having livedat court myself, " said she, "I know to what your excellency isaccustomed, and can the better value your condescension in exposingyourself, at this rigorous season, to the hardships of ourmountain-top. "

The Marquess at this began to look black, but seeing the Count'spleasure in the compliment, contented himself with calling out fordinner, which, said he, with all respect to their visitor, would stayhis stomach better than the French kick-shaws at his Majesty's table. Whether the Count was of the same mind, it was impossible to say, thoughOdo could not help observing that the stewed venison and spiced boar'sflesh seemed to present certain obstacles either to his jaws or hispalate, and that his appetite lingered on the fried chicken-livers andtunny-fish in oil; but he cast such looks at Donna Laura as seemed todeclare that for her sake he would willingly have risked his teeth onthe very cobblestones of the court. Knowing how she pined for company, Odo was not surprised at his mother's complaisance; yet wondered to seethe smile with which she presently received the Count's half-banteringdisparagement of Pianura. For the duchy, by his showing, was a place ofsmall consequence, an asylum of superannuated fashions; whereas noFrenchman of quality ever visited Turin without exclaiming on itsresemblance to Paris, and vowing that none who had the entree ofStupinigi need cross the Alps to see Versailles. As to the Marquess'sdepriving the court of Donna Laura's presence, their guest protestedagainst it as an act of overt disloyalty to the sovereign; and what mostsurprised Odo, who had often heard his grandfather declaim against theCount as a cheap jackanapes that hung about the court for what he couldmake at play, was the indulgence with which the Marquess received hisvisitor's sallies. Father and daughter in fact vied in amenities to theCount. The fire was kept alight all day in his rooms, his Monsu waitedon with singular civility by the steward, and Donna Laura's own womansent down by her mistress to prepare his morning chocolate. 

Next day it was agreed the gentlemen should ride to Valdu; but its lordbeing as stiff-jointed as a marionette, Donna Laura, with charming tact, begged to be of the party, and thus enabled him to attend her in herlitter. The Marquess thereupon called on Odo to ride with him; andsetting forth across the mountain they descended by a long defile to thehalf-ruined village of Valdu. Here, for the first time, Odo saw thespectacle of a neglected estate, its last penny wrung from it for theabsent master's pleasure by a bailiff who was expected to extract hispay from the sale of clandestine concessions to the tenants. Ridingbeside the Marquess, who swore under his breath at the ravages of theundyked stream and the sight of good arable land run wild and chokedwith underbrush, the little boy obtained a precocious insight into theevils of a system which had long outlived its purpose, and the idea offeudalism was ever afterward embodied for him in his glimpse of thepeasants of Valdu looking up sullenly from their work as their suzerainand protector thrust an unfamiliar painted smile between the curtains ofhis litter. 

What his grandfather thought of Valdu (to which the Count on the wayhome referred with smirking apologies as the mountain-lair of hisbarbarous ancestors) was patent enough even to Odo's undevelopedperceptions; but it would have required a more experienced understandingto detect the motive that led the Marquess, scarce two days after theirvisit, to accord his daughter's hand to the Count. Odo felt a shock ofdismay on learning that his beautiful mother was to become the propertyof an old gentleman whom he guessed to be of his grandfather's age, andwhose enamoured grimaces recalled the antics of her favourite monkey, and the boy's face reflected the blush of embarrassment with which DonnaLaura imparted the news; but the children of that day were trained to apassive acquiescence, and had she informed him that she was to bechained in the keep on bread and water, Odo would have accepted the factwith equal philosophy. Three weeks afterward his mother and the oldCount were married in the chapel of Donnaz, and Donna Laura, with manytears and embraces, set out for Turin, taking her monkey but leaving herson behind. It was not till later that Odo learned of the social usagewhich compelled young widows to choose between remarriage and thecloister; and his subsequent views were unconsciously tinged by theremembrance of his mother's melancholy bridal. 

Her departure left no traces but were speedily repaired by the coming ofspring. The sun growing warmer, and the close season putting an end tothe Marquess's hunting, it was now Odo's chief pleasure to carry hisbooks to the walled garden between the castle and the southern face ofthe cliff. This small enclosure, probably a survival of medievalhorticulture, had along the upper ledge of its wall a grass walkcommanding the flow of the stream, and an angle turret that turned oneslit to the valley, the other to the garden lying below like a tranquilwell of scent and brightness: its box trees clipped to the shape ofpeacocks and lions, its clove pinks and simples set in a border ofthrift, and a pear tree basking on its sunny wall. These pleasantspaces, which Odo had to himself save when the canonesses walked thereto recite their rosary, he peopled with the knights and ladies of thenovelle, and the fantastic beings of Pulci's epic: there walked the FayMorgana, Regulus the loyal knight, the giant Morgante, Trajan the justEmperor and the proud figure of King Conrad; so that, escaping thitherfrom the after-dinner dullness of the tapestry parlour, the boy seemedto pass from the most oppressive solitude to a world of warmth andfellowship. 

1. 6. 

Odo, who, like all neglected children, was quick to note in thedemeanour of his elders any hint of a change in his own condition, hadbeen keenly conscious of the effect produced at Donnaz by the news ofthe Duchess of Pianura's deliverance. Guided perhaps by his mother'sexclamation, he noticed an added zeal in Don Gervaso's teachings and anunction in the manner of his aunts and grandmother, who embraced him asthough they were handling a relic; while the old Marquess, though hetook his grandson seldomer on his rides, would sit staring at him with afrowning tenderness that once found vent in the growl--"Morbleu, buthe's too good for the tonsure!" All this made it clear to Odo that hewas indeed meant for the Church, and he learned without surprise thatthe following spring he was to be sent to the seminary at Asti. 

With a view to prepare him for this change, the canonesses suggested hisattending them that year on their annual pilgrimage to the sanctuary ofOropa. Thither, for every feast of the Assumption, these pious ladiestravelled in their litter; and Odo had heard from them many tales of themiraculous Black Virgin who drew thousands to her shrine among themountains. They set forth in August, two days before the feast, ascending through chestnut groves to the region of bare rocks; thencedownward across torrents hung with white acacia and along park-likegrassy levels deep in shade. The lively air, the murmur of verdure, theperfume of mown grass in the meadows and the sweet call of the cuckoosfrom every thicket made an enchantment of the way; but Odo's pleasureredoubled when, gaining the high-road to Oropa, they mingled with thelong train of devotees ascending from the plain. Here were pilgrims ofevery condition, from the noble lady of Turin or Asti (for it was thefavourite pilgrimage of the Sardinian court), attended by her physicianand her cicisbeo, to the half-naked goatherd of Val Sesia or Salluzzo;the cheerful farmers of the Milanese, with their wives, in silvernecklaces and hairpins, riding pillion on plump white asses; sickpersons travelling in closed litters or carried on hand-stretchers;crippled beggars obtruding their deformities; confraternities of hoodedpenitents, Franciscans, Capuchins and Poor Clares in dusty companies;jugglers, pedlars, Egyptians and sellers of drugs and amulets. Fromamong these, as the canonesses' litter jogged along, an odd figureadvanced toward Odo, who had obtained leave to do the last mile of thejourney on foot. This was a plump abate in tattered ecclesiasticaldress, his shoes white as a miller's and the perspiration streaking hisface as he laboured along in the dust. He accosted Odo in a soft shrillvoice, begging leave to walk beside the young cavaliere, whom he hadmore than once had the honour of seeing at Pianura; and, in reply to theboy's surprised glance, added, with a swelling of the chest and anabsurd gesture of self-introduction, "But perhaps the cavaliere is nottoo young to have heard of the illustrious Cantapresto, late primosoprano of the ducal theatre of Pianura?"

Odo being obliged to avow his ignorance, the fat creature mopped hisbrow and continued with a gasp--"Ah, your excellency, what is fame? Fromglory to obscurity is no farther than from one milestone to another! Noteight years ago, cavaliere, I was followed through the streets ofPianura by a greater crowd than the Duke ever drew after him! But whatthen? The voice goes--it lasts no longer than the bloom of a flower--andwith it goes everything: fortune, credit, consideration, friends andparasites! Not eight years ago, sir--would you believe me?--I wassupping nightly in private with the Bishop, who had nearly quarrelledwith his late Highness for carrying me off by force one evening to hiscasino; I was heaped with dignities and favours; all the poets in thetown composed sonnets in my honour; the Marquess of Trescorre fought aduel about me with the Bishop's nephew, Don Serafino; I attended hislordship to Rome; I spent the villeggiatura at his villa, where I sat atplay with the highest nobles in the land; yet when my voice went, cavaliere, it was on my knees I had to beg of my heartless patron thepaltry favour of the minor orders!" Tears were running down the abate'scheeks, and he paused to wipe them with a corner of tattered bands. 

Though Odo had been bred in an abhorrence of the theatre, the strangecreature's aspect so pricked his compassion that he asked him what hewas now engaged in; at which Cantapresto piteously cried, "Alas, what amI not engaged in, if the occasion offers? For whatever a man's habit, hewill not wear it long if it cover an empty belly; and he that respectshis calling must find food enough to continue in it. But as for me, sir, I have put a hand to every trade, from composing scenarios for the ducalcompany of Pianura, to writing satirical sonnets for noblemen thatdesire to pass for wits. I've a pretty taste, too, in compilingalmanacks, and when nothing else served I have played the publicscrivener at the street corner; nay, sir, necessity has even driven meto hold the candle in one or two transactions I would not more activelyhave mixed in; and it was to efface the remembrance of one of these--formy conscience is still over-nice for my condition--that I set out onthis laborious pilgrimage. "

Much of this was unintelligible to Odo; but he was moved by any mentionof Pianura, and in the abate's first pause he risked the question--"Doyou know the hump-backed boy Brutus?"

His companion stared and pursed his soft lips. 

"Brutus?" says he. "Brutus? Is he about the Duke's person?"

"He lives in the palace, " said Odo doubtfully. 

The fat ecclesiastic clapped a hand to his thigh. 

"Can it be your excellency has in mind the foundling boy Carlo Gamba?Does the jackanapes call himself Brutus now? He was always full of hisclassical allusions! Why, sir, I think I know him very well; he is evenrumoured to be a brother of Don Lelio Trescorre's, and I believe theDuke has lately given him to the Marquess of Cerveno, for I saw him notlong since in the Marquess's livery at Pontesordo. "

"Pontesordo?" cried Odo. "It was there I lived. "

"Did you indeed, cavaliere? But I think you will have been at the Duke'smanor of that name; and it was the hunting-lodge on the edge of thechase that I had in mind. The Marquess uses it, I believe, as a kind ofcasino; though not without risk of a distemper. Indeed, there is muchwonder at his frequenting it, and 'tis said he does so against theDuke's wishes. "

The name of Pontesordo had set Odo's memories humming like a hive ofbees, and without heeding his companion's allusions he asked--"And didyou see the Momola?"

The other looked his perplexity. 

"She's an Innocent too, " Odo hastened to explain. "She is Filomena'sservant at the farm. "

The abate at this, standing still in the road, screwed up his eyelidsand protruded a relishing lip. "Eh, eh, " said he, "the girl from thefarm, you say?" And he gave a chuckle. "You've an eye, cavaliere, you'vean eye, " he cried, his soft body shaking with enjoyment; but before Odocould make a guess at his meaning their conversation was interrupted bya sharp call from the litter. The abate at once disappeared in thecrowd, and a moment later the litter had debouched on the grassyquadrangle before the outer gates of the monastery. This space was setin beech-woods, amid which gleamed the white-pillared chapels of the Wayof the Cross; and the devouter pilgrims, dispersed beneath the trees, were ascending from one chapel to another, preparatory to entering thechurch. 

The quadrangle itself was crowded with people, and the sellers of votiveofferings, in their booths roofed with acacia-boughs, were driving anoisy trade in scapulars and Agnus Deis, images of the Black Virgin ofOropa, silver hearts and crosses, and phials of Jordan water warrantedto effect the immediate conversion of Jews and heretics. In one corner aCarmelite missionary had set up his portable pulpit, and, crucifix inhand, was exhorting the crowd; in another, an improvisatore intonedcanticles to the miraculous Virgin; a barefoot friar sat sellingindulgences at the monastery gate, and pedlars with trays of rosariesand religious prints pushed their way among the pilgrims. Young women ofless pious aspect solicited the attention of the better-dressedtravellers, and jugglers, mountebanks and quacks of every descriptionhung on the outskirts of the square. The sight speedily turned Odo'sthought from his late companion, and the litter coming to a halt he wasleaning forward to observe the antics of a tumbler who had spread hiscarpet beneath the trees, when the abate's face suddenly rose to thesurface of the throng and his hand thrust a crumpled paper between thecurtains of the litter. Odo was quick-witted enough to capture thismissive without attracting the notice of his grand-aunts, and stealing aglance at it, he read--"Cavaliere, I starve. When the illustrious ladiesdescend, for Christ's sake beg a scudo of them for the unhappyCantapresto. "

By this the litter had disengaged itself and was moving toward the outergates. Odo, aware of the disfavour with which the theatre was viewed atDonnaz, and unable to guess how far the soprano's present habit would beheld to palliate the scandal of his former connection, was perplexed howto communicate his petition to the canonesses. A moment later, however, the question solved itself; for as the aunts descended at the door ofthe rector's lodging, the porter, running to meet them, stumbled on ablack mass under the arcade, and raised the cry that here was a mandropped dead. A crowd gathering, some one called out that it was anecclesiastic had fallen; whereat the great-aunts were hurrying forwardwhen Odo whispered the eldest, Donna Livia, that the sick man was indeedan abate from Pianura. Donna Livia immediately bid her servants lift himinto the porter's lodge, where, with the administering of spirits, thepoor soprano presently revived and cast a drowning glance about thechamber. 

"Eight years ago, illustrious ladies, " he gurgled, "I had nearly diedone night of a surfeit of ortolans; and now it is of a surfeit ofemptiness that I am perishing. "

The ladies at this, with exclamations of pity, called on thelay-brothers for broth and cordials, and bidding the porter enquire moreparticularly into the history of the unhappy ecclesiastic, hastened awaywith Odo to the rector's parlour. 

Next morning betimes all were afoot for the procession, which thecanonesses were to witness from the monastery windows. The apothecaryhad brought word that the abate, whose seizure was indeed the result ofhunger, was still too weak to rise; and Donna Livia, eager to open herdevotions with an act of pity, pressed a sequin in the man's hand, andbid him spare no care for the sufferer's comfort. 

This sent Odo in a cheerful mood to the red-hung windows, whence, peering between the folds of his aunts' gala habits, he admired thegreat court enclosed in nobly-ordered cloisters and strewn with freshherbs and flowers. Thence one of the rector's chaplains conducted themto the church, placing them, in company with the monastery's other nobleguests, in a tribune constructed above the choir. It was Odo's firstsight of a great religious ceremony, and as he looked down on the churchglimmering with votive offerings and gold-fringed draperies, and seenthrough rolling incense in which the altar-candles swam like starsreflected in a river, he felt an almost sensual thrill of pleasure atthe thought that his life was to be passed amid scenes of such mysticbeauty. The sweet singing of the choir raised his spirit to a higherview of the scene; and the sight of the huddled misery on the floor ofthe church revived in him the old longing for the Franciscan cowl. 

From these raptures he was speedily diverted by the sight awaiting himat the conclusion of the mass. Hardly had the spectators returned to therector's windows when, the doors of the church swinging open, aprocession headed by the rector himself descended the steps and began tomake the circuit of the court. Odo's eyes swam with the splendour ofthis burst of banners, images and jewelled reliquaries, surmounting thelong train of tonsured heads and bathed in a light almost blinding afterthe mild penumbra of the church. As the monks advanced, the pilgrims, pouring after them, filled the court with a dark undulating mass throughwhich the procession wound like a ray of sunlight down the brown bosomof a torrent. Branches of oleander swung in the air, devout cries hailedthe approach of the Black Madonna's canopy, and hoarse voices swelled toa roar the measured litanies of the friars. 

The ceremonies over, Odo, with the canonesses, set out to visit thechapels studding the beech-knoll above the monastic buildings. Passingout of Juvara's great portico they stood a moment above the grassycommon, which presented a scene in curious contrast to that they hadjust quitted. Here refreshment-booths had been set up, musicians werefiddling, jugglers unrolling their carpets, dentists shouting out themerits of their panaceas, and light women drinking with the liveriedservants of the nobility. The very cripples who had groaned the loudestin church now rollicked with the mountebanks and dancers; and no traceremained of the celebration just concluded but the medals and relicsstrung about the necks of those engaged in these gross diversions. 

It was strange to pass from this scene to the solitude of the grove, where, in a twilight rustling with streams, the chapels lifted theirwhite porches. Peering through the grated door of each little edifice, Odo beheld within a group of terra-cotta figures representing some sceneof the Passion--here a Last Supper, with a tigerish Judas and a SaintJohn resting his yellow curls on his Master's bosom, there an Entombmentor a group of stricken Maries. These figures, though rudely modelled anddaubed with bright colours, yet, by a vivacity of attitude and gesturewhich the mystery of their setting enhanced, conveyed a thrillingimpression of the sacred scenes set forth; and Odo was yet at an agewhen the distinction between flesh-and-blood and its plasticcounterfeits is not clearly defined, or when at least the sculpturedimage is still a mysterious half-sentient thing, denizen of some strangeborderland between art and life. It seemed to him, as he gazed throughthe chapel gratings, that those long-distant episodes of the divinetragedy had been here preserved in some miraculous state of suspendedanimation, and as he climbed from one shrine to another he had the senseof treading the actual stones of Gethsemane and Calvary. 

As was usual with him, the impressions of the moment had effaced thosepreceding it, and it was almost with surprise that, at the rector'sdoor, he beheld the primo soprano of Pianura totter forth to the litterand offer his knee as a step for the canonesses. The charitable ladiescried out on him for this imprudence, and his pallor still givingevidence of distress, he was bidden to wait on them after supper withhis story. He presented himself promptly in the parlour, and beingquestioned as to his condition at once rashly proclaimed his formerconnection with the ducal theatre of Pianura. No avowal could have beenmore disastrous to his cause. The canonesses crossed themselves withhorror, and the abate, seeing his mistake, hastened to repair it byexclaiming--"What, ladies, would you punish me for following a vocationto which my frivolous parents condemned me when I was too young toresist their purpose? And have not my subsequent sufferings, my penancesand pilgrimages, and the state to which they have reduced me, sufficiently effaced the record of an involuntary error?"

Seeing the effect of this appeal the abate made haste to follow up hisadvantage. "Ah, illustrious ladies, " he cried, "am I not a livingexample of the fate of those who leave all to follow righteousness? Forwhile I remained on the stage, among the most dissolute surroundings, fortune showered me with every benefit she heaps on her favourites. Ihad my seat at every table in Pianura; the Duke's chair to carry me tothe theatre; and more money than I could devise how to spend; while nowthat I have resigned my calling to embrace the religious life, you seeme reduced to begging a crust from the very mendicants I formerlynourished. For, " said he, moved to tears by his own recital, "mysuperfluity was always spent in buying the prayers of the unfortunate, and to judge how I was esteemed by those acquainted with my privatebehaviour you need only learn that, on my renouncing the stage, 'twasthe Bishop of Pianura who himself accorded me the tonsure. "

This discourse, which Odo admired for its adroitness, visibly excitedthe commiseration of the ladies; but at mention of the Bishop, DonnaLivia exchanged a glance with her sister, who enquired, with a quaintair of astuteness, "But how comes it, abate, that with so powerful aprotector you have been exposed to such incredible reverses?"

Cantapresto rolled a meaning eye. 

"Alas, madam, it was through my protector that misfortune attacked me;for his lordship having appointed me secretary to his favourite nephew, Don Serafino, that imprudent nobleman required of me services soincompatible with my cloth that disobedience became a duty; whereupon, not satisfied with dismissing me in disgrace, he punished me byblackening my character to his uncle. To defend myself was to traduceDon Serafino; and rather than reveal his courses to the Bishop I sank tothe state in which you see me; a state, " he added with emotion, "that Ihave travelled this long way to commend to the adorable pity of Herwhose Son had not where to lay His head. "

This stroke visibly touched the canonesses, still soft from themacerations of the morning; and Donna Livia compassionately asked how hehad subsisted since his rupture with the Bishop. 

"Madam, by the sale of my talents in any service not at odds with mycalling: as the compiling of pious almanacks, the inditing of rhymedlitanies and canticles, and even the construction of theatricalpieces"--the ladies lifted hands of reprobation--"of theatrical pieces, "Cantapresto impressively repeated, "for the use of the Carmelite nuns ofPianura. But, " said he with a deprecating smile, "the wages of virtueare less liberal than those of sin, and spite of a versatility I think Imay honestly claim, I have often had to subsist on the gifts of thepious, and sometimes, madam, to starve on their compassion. "

This ready discourse, and the soprano's evident distress, so worked onthe canonesses that, having little money at their disposal, it wasfixed, after some private consultation, that he should attend them toDonnaz, where Don Gervaso, in consideration of his edifying conduct inrenouncing the stage, might be interested in helping him to a situation;and when the little party set forth from Oropa, the abate Cantaprestoclosed the procession on one of the baggage-mules, with Odo ridingpillion at his back. Good fortune loosened the poor soprano's tongue, and as soon as the canonesses' litter was a safe distance ahead he beganto beguile the way with fragments of reminiscence and adventure. Thoughfew of his allusions were clear to Odo, the glimpse they gave of themotley theatrical life of the north Italian cities--the quarrels betweenGoldoni and the supporters of the expiring commedia dell' arte--therivalries of the prime donne and the arrogance of the popularcomedians--all these peeps into a tinsel world of mirth, cabal andfolly, enlivened by the recurring names of the Four Masks, thoselingering gods of the older dispensation, so lured the boy's fancy andset free his vagrant wonder, that he was almost sorry to see the keep ofDonnaz reddening in the second evening's sunset. 

Such regrets, however, their arrival at the castle soon effaced; for inthe doorway stood the old Marquess, a letter in hand, who springingforward caught his grandson by the shoulders, and cried with his greatboar-hunting shout, "Cavaliere, you are heir-presumptive of Pianura!"

1. 7. 

The Marquess of Cerveno had succumbed to the tertian ague contracted atthe hunting-lodge of Pontesordo; and this unforeseen calamity left butone life, that of the sickly ducal infant, between Odo and thesuccession to the throne of Pianura. Such was the news conveyedpost-haste from Turin by Donna Laura; who added the Duke's express wishthat his young kinsman should be fitted for the secular career, and theinformation that Count Valdu had already entered his stepson's name atthe Royal Academy of Turin. 

The Duke of Pianura being young and in good health, and his wife havingalready given him an heir, the most sanguine imagination could hardlyview Odo as being brought much nearer the succession; yet the change inhis condition was striking enough to excuse the fancy of those about himfor shaping the future to their liking. The priestling was to turncourtier and perhaps soldier; Asti was to be exchanged for Turin, theseminary for the academy; and even the old chief of Donnaz betrayed inhis grumbling counsels to the boy a sense of the exalted future in whichthey might some day serve him. 

The preparations of departure and the wonder of his new state left Odolittle space wherein to store his thought with impressions of what hewas leaving; and it was only in after years, when the accretion ofsuperficial incident had dropped from his past, that those last days atDonnaz gained their full distinctness. He saw them then, heavy with thewarmth of the long summer, from the topmost pine-belt to the bronzedvineyards turning their metallic clusters to the sun; and in the midsthis small bewildered figure, netted in a web of association, andseeming, as he broke away, to leave a shred of himself in every cornerof the castle. 

Sharpest of all, there remained with him the vision of his last hourwith Don Gervaso. The news of Odo's changed condition had been receivedin silence by the chaplain. He was not the man to waste words and heknew the futility of asserting the Church's claim to theheir-presumptive of a reigning house. Therefore if he showed noenthusiasm he betrayed no resentment; but, the evening before the boy'sdeparture, led him, still in silence, to the chapel. Here the priestknelt with Odo; then, raising him, sat on one of the benches facing thehigh altar, and spoke a few grave words. 

"You are setting out, " said he, "on a way far different from that inwhich it has been my care to guide you; yet the high road and themountain path may, by diverse windings, lead to the same point; andwhatever walk a man chooses, it will surely carry him to the end thatGod has appointed. If you are called to serve Him in the world, thejourney on which you are now starting may lead you to the throne ofPianura; but even so, " he went on, "there is this I would have youremember: that should this dignity come to you it may come as a calamityrather than a joy; for when God confers earthly honours on a child ofHis predilection, He sometimes deigns to render them as innocuous asmisfortune; and my chief prayer for you is that you should be raised tothis eminence, it may be at a moment when such advancement seems tothrust you in the dust. "

The words burned themselves into Odo's heart like some mystic writing onthe walls of memory, long afterward to start into fiery meaning. At thetime he felt only that the priest spoke with a power and dignity nohuman authority could give; and for a moment all the stored influencesof his faith reached out to him from the dimly-gleaming altar. 

The next sun rose on a new world. He was to set out at daylight, anddawn found him at the casement, footing it in thought down the road asyet undistinguishable in a dying glimmer of stars. Bruno was to attendhim to Turin; but one of the women presently brought word that the oldhuntsman's rheumatism had caught him in the knee, and that the Marquess, resolved not to delay his grandson's departure, had chosen Cantaprestoas the boy's companion. The courtyard, when Odo descended, fairlybubbled with the voluble joy of the fat soprano, who was givingdirections to the servants, receiving commissions and instructions fromthe aunts, assuring everybody of his undying devotion to theheir-presumptive of Pianura, and citing impressive instances of theresponsibilities with which the great of the earth had formerlyentrusted him. 

As a companion for Odo the abate was clearly not to Don Gervaso's taste;but he stood silent, turning the comment of a cool eye on the soprano'sprotestations, and saying only, as Cantapresto swept the company intothe circle of an obsequious farewell:--"Remember, signor abate, it is toyour cloth this business is entrusted. " The abate's answer was a rush ofpurple to the forehead; but Don Gervaso imperturbably added, "And youlie but one night on the road. "

Meanwhile the old Marquess, visibly moved, was charging Odo to respecthis elders and superiors, while in the same breath warning him not totake up with the Frenchified notions of the court, but to remember thatfor a lad of his condition the chief virtues were a tight seat in thesaddle, a quick hand on the sword and a slow tongue in counsel. "Mindyour own business, " he concluded, "and see that others mind theirs. "

The Marchioness thereupon, with many tears, hung a scapular about Odo'sneck, bidding him shun the theatre and be regular at confession; one ofthe canonesses reminded him not to omit a visit to the chapel of theHoly Winding-sheet, while the other begged him to burn a candle for herat the Consolata; and the servants pressed forward to embrace and blesstheir little master. 

Day was high by this, and as the Marquess's travelling-chariot rumbleddown the valley the shadows seemed to fly before it. Odo at first laynumb; but presently his senses woke to the call of the brighteninglandscape. The scene was such as Salvator might have painted: wildblocks of stone heaped under walnut-shade; here the white plunge ofwater down a wall of granite, and there, in bluer depths, a charcoalburner's hut sending up its spiral of smoke to the dark raftering ofbranches. Though it was but a few hours since Odo had travelled fromOropa, years seemed to have passed over him, and he saw the world with anew eye. Each sound and scent plucked at him in passing: the roadsidestarted into detail like the foreground of some minute Dutch painter;every pendent mass of fern, dark dripping rock, late tuft of harebellcalled out to him: "Look well, for this is your last sight of us!" Hisfirst sight too, it seemed: since he had lived through twelve Italiansummers without sense of the sun-steeped quality of atmosphere that, even in shade, gives each object a golden salience. He was conscious ofit now only as it suggested fingering a missal stiff with gold-leaf andedged with a swarming diversity of buds and insects. The carriage movedso slowly that he was in no haste to turn the pages; and each spike ofyellow foxglove, each clouding of butterflies about a patch ofspeedwell, each quiver of grass over a hidden thread of moisture, becamea marvel to be thumbed and treasured. 

From this mood he was detached by the next bend of the road. The way, hitherto winding through narrow glens, now swung to a ledge overhangingthe last escarpment of the mountains; and far below, the Piedmonteseplain unrolled to the southward its interminable blue-green distancesmottled with forest. A sight to lift the heart; for on those sunnyreaches Ivrea, Novara, Vercelli lay like sea-birds on a summer sea. Itwas the future unfolding itself to the boy; dark forests, wide rivers, strange cities and a new horizon: all the mystery of the coming yearsfigured to him in that great plain stretching away to the greatermystery of heaven. 

To all this Cantapresto turned a snoring countenance. The lively air ofthe hills, the good fare of Donnaz, and the satisfaction, above all, ofrolling on cushions over a road he had thought to trudge on foot, hadlapped the abate in Capuan slumber. The midday halt aroused him. Thetravellers rested at an inn on the edge of the hills, and hereCantapresto proved to his charge that, as he phrased it, his belly hadas short a memory for food as his heart for injuries. A flask of Astiput him in the talking mood, and as they drove on he regaled Odo with alively picture of the life on which he was about to enter. 

"You are going, " said he, "to one of the first cities of Europe; onethat has all the beauty and elegance of the French capital without itsfollies and excesses. Turin is blessed with a court where good mannersand a fine tone are more highly prized than the extravagances of genius;and I have heard it said of his Majesty that he was delighted to see hiscourtiers wearing the French fashions outside their heads, provided theydidn't carry the French ideas within. You are too young, doubtless, cavaliere, to have heard of the philosophers who are raising such apother north of the Alps: a set of madmen that, because their birthdoesn't give them the entree of Versailles, are preaching that menshould return to a state of nature, great ladies suckle their young likeanimals, and the peasantry own their land like nobles. Luckily you'llhear little of this infectious talk in Turin: the King stamps out thephilosophers like vermin or packs them off to splutter their heresies inMilan or Venice. But to a nobleman mindful of the privileges of hiscondition there is no more agreeable sojourn in Europe. The wines aredelicious, the women--er--accomplished--and though the sbirri may hugone a trifle close now and then, why, with money and discretion, afriend or two in the right quarters, and the wit to stand well with theChurch, there's no city in Europe where a man may have pleasanter sinsto confess. "

The carriage, by this, was descending the last curves above the valley, and before them, in a hollow of the hills, blinked the warm shimmer ofmaize and vine, like some bright vintage brimming its cup. The sopranowaved a convivial hand. 

"Look, " he cried, "what Nature has done for this happy region! Whereherself has spread the table so bountifully, should her children hangback from the feast? I vow, cavaliere, if the mountains were built forhermits and ascetics, then the plain was made level for dancing, banqueting and the pleasures of the villeggiatura. If God had meant usto break our teeth on nuts and roots, why did He hang the vine withfruit and draw three crops of wheat from this indulgent soil? I protestwhen I look on such a scene as this, it is sufficient incentive tolowliness to remember that the meek shall inherit the earth!"

This mood held Cantapresto till his after-dinner sleep overtook him; andwhen he woke again the chariot was clattering across the bridge ofChivasso. The Po rolled its sunset crimson between flats that seemeddull and featureless after the broken scenery of the hills; but beyondthe bridge rose the towers and roofs of the town, with itscathedral-front catching the last slant of light. In the streets duskhad fallen and a lamp flared under the arch of the inn before which thetravellers halted. Odo's head was heavy, and he hardly noticed thefigures thronging the caffe into which they were led; but presentlythere rose a shout of "Cantapresto!" and a ring of waving arms andflashing teeth encircled his companion. 

These appendages belonged to a troop of men and women, some masked andin motley, others in discoloured travel-stained garments, who pressedabout the soprano with cries of joyous recognition. He was evidently anold favourite of the band, for a duenna in tattered velvet fell on hisneck with genial unreserve, a pert soubrette caught him by the arm theduenna left free, and a terrific Matamor with a nose like a scimitarslapped him on the back with a tin sword. 

Odo's glimpse of the square at Oropa told him that here was a band ofstrolling players such as Cantapresto had talked of on the ride back toDonnaz. Don Gervaso's instructions and the old Marchioness's warningagainst the theatre were present enough in the boy's mind to add a touchof awe to the curiosity with which he observed these strange objects ofthe Church's reprobation. They struck him, it must be owned, as morepitiable than alarming, for the duenna's toes were coming through hershoes, and one or two of the children who hung on the outskirts of thegroup looked as lean and hungry under their spangles as thefoundling-girl of Pontesordo. Spite of this they seemed a jolly crew, and ready (at Cantapresto's expense) to celebrate their encounter withthe ex-soprano in unlimited libations of Asti and Val Pulicello. Thesinger, however, hung back with protesting gestures. 

"Gently, then, gently, dear friends--dear companions! When was it weparted? In the spring of the year--and we meet now in the late summer. As the seasons change so do our conditions: if the spring is a season offolly, then is the harvest-time the period for reflection. When we lastmet I was a strolling poet, glad to serve your gifted company within thescope of my talents--now, ladies and gentlemen, now"--he drew himself upwith pride--"now you behold in me the governor and friend of theheir-presumptive of Pianura. "

Cries of incredulity and derision greeted this announcement, and one ofthe girls called out laughingly, "Yet you have the same old cassock toyour back!"

"And the same old passage from your mouth to your belly, " added anelastic Harlequin, reaching an arm across the women's shoulders. "Come, Cantapresto, we'll help you line it with good wine, to the health of hismost superlatively serene Highness, the heir-presumptive of Pianura; andwhere is that fabulous personage, by the way?"

Odo at this retreated hastily behind the soprano; but a pretty girlcatching sight of him, he found himself dragged into the centre of thecompany, who hailed him with fantastic obeisances. Supper meanwhile wasbeing laid on the greasy table down the middle of the room. The Matamor, who seemed the director of the troupe, thundered out his orders formaccaroni, fried eels and sausages; the inn-servants flanked the plateswith wine-flasks and lumps of black bread, and in a moment the hungrycomedians, thrusting Odo into a high seat at the head of the table, werefalling on the repast with a prodigious clatter of cutlery. 

Of the subsequent incidents of the feast--the banter of the youngerwomen, the duenna's lachrymose confidences, the incessant interchange oftheatrical jargon and coarse pleasantry--there remained to Odo but aconfused image, obscured by the smoke of guttering candles, the fumes ofwine and the stifling air of the low-ceilinged tavern. Even the face ofthe pretty girl who had dragged him from his concealment, and who nowsat at his side, plying him with sweets from her own plate, began tofade into the general blur; and his last impression was of Cantapresto'sfigure dilating to immense proportions at the other end of the table, asthe soprano rose with shaking wine-glass to favour the company with asong. The chorus, bursting forth in response, surged over Odo's drowningsenses, and he was barely aware, in the tumult of noise and lights, ofan arm slipped about him, a softly-heaving pillow beneath his head, andthe gradual subsidence into dark delicious peace. 

So, on the first night of his new life, the heir-presumptive of Pianurafell asleep with his head in a dancing-girl's breast. 

1. 8. 

The travellers were to journey by Vettura from Chivasso to Turin; andwhen Odo woke next morning the carriage stood ready in the courtyard. 

Cantapresto, mottled and shamefaced, with his bands awry and an air oftottering dignity, was gathering their possessions together, and thepretty girl who had pillowed Odo's slumbers now knelt by his bed andlaughingly drew on his stockings. She was a slim brown morsel, not muchabove his age, with a glance that flitted like a bird, and roundshoulders slipping out of her kerchief. A wave of shyness bathed Odo tothe forehead as their eyes met: he hung his head stupidly and turnedaway when she fetched the comb to dress his hair. 

His toilet completed, she called out to the abate to go below and seethat the cavaliere's chocolate was ready; and as the door closed sheturned and kissed Odo on the lips. 

"Oh, how red you are!" she cried laughing. "Is that the first kissyou've ever had? Then you'll remember me when you're Duke ofPianura--Mirandolina of Chioggia, the first girl you ever kissed!" Shewas pulling his collar straight while she talked, so that he could notget away from her. "You will remember me, won't you?" she persisted. "Ishall be a great actress by that time, and you'll appoint me primaamorosa to the ducal theatre of Pianura, and throw me a diamond braceletfrom your Highness's box and make all the court ladies ready to poisonme for rage!" She released his collar and dropped away from him. "Ah, no, I shall be a poor strolling player, and you a great prince, " shesighed, "and you'll never, never think of me again; but I shall alwaysremember that I was the first girl you ever kissed!"

She hung back in a dazzle of tears, looking so bright and tender thatOdo's bashfulness melted like a spring frost. 

"I shall never be Duke, " he cried, "and I shall never forget you!" Andwith that he turned and kissed her boldly and then bolted down thestairs like a hare. And all that day he scorched and froze with thethought that perhaps she had been laughing at him. 

Cantapresto was torpid after the feast, and Odo detected in him an airof guilty constraint. The boy was glad enough to keep silence, and theyrolled on without speaking through the wide glowing landscape. Alreadythe nearness of a great city began to make itself felt. The brightchampaign was scattered over with farm-houses, their red-tiledpigeon-cots and their granges latticed with openwork terra-cottapleasantly breaking the expanse of maize and mulberry; villages layalong the banks of the canals intersecting the plain; and the hillsbeyond the Po were planted with villas and monasteries. 

All the afternoon they drove between umbrageous parks and under thewalls of terraced vineyards. It was a region of delectable shade, withglimpses here and there of gardens flashing with fountains and villaroofs decked with statues and vases; and at length, toward sunset, abend of the road brought them out on a fair-spreading city, soflourishing in buildings, so beset with smiling hills, that Odo, springing from his seat, cried out in sheer joy of the spectacle. 

They had still the suburbs to traverse; and darkness was falling whenthey entered the gates of Turin. This brought the fresh amazement ofwide lamplit streets, clean and bright as a ball-room, lined withpalaces and filled with well-dressed loungers: officers in the brilliantSardinian uniforms, fine gentlemen in French tie-wigs and narrow-sleevedcoats, merchants hurrying home from business, ecclesiastics inhigh-swung carriages, and young bloods dashing by in their curricles. The tables before the coffee-houses were thronged with idlers takingtheir chocolate and reading the gazettes; and here and there the archeddoorway of a palace showed some gay party supping al fresco in a gardenhung with lamps. 

The flashing of lights and the noise of the streets roused Cantapresto, who sat up with a sudden assumption of dignity. 

"Ah, cavaliere, " said he, "you now see a great city, a famous city, acity aptly called 'the Paris of Italy. ' Nowhere else shall you find suchwell-lit streets, such fair pavements, shops so full of Parisian wares, promenades so crowded with fine carriages and horses. What a life ayoung gentleman may lead here! The court is hospitable, society amiable, the theatres are the best-appointed in Italy. "

Here Cantapresto paused with a deprecating cough. 

"Only one thing is necessary, " he went on, "to complete enjoyment of thefruits of this garden of Eden; and that is"--he coughedagain--"discretion. His Majesty, cavaliere, is a father to his subjects;the Church is their zealous mother; and between two such parents, andthe innumerable delegates of their authority, why, you may fancy, sir, that a man has to wear his eyes on all sides of his head. Discretion isa virtue the Church herself commends; it is natural, then, that sheshould afford her children full opportunity to practise it. And lookyou, cavaliere, it is like gymnastics: the younger you acquire it, theless effort it costs. Our Maker Himself has taught us the value ofsilence by putting us speechless into the world: if we learn to talklater we do it at our own risk! But for your own part, cavaliere--sincethe habit cannot too early be exercised--I would humbly counsel you tosay nothing to your illustrious parents of our little diversion of lastevening. "

The Countess Valdu lived on the upper floor of a rococo palace near thePiazza San Carlo; and here Odo, led by Cantapresto, presently foundhimself shown into an apartment where several ladies and gentlemen satat cards. His mother, detaching herself from the group, embraced himwith unusual warmth, and the old Count, more painted and perfumed thanever, hurried up with an obsequious greeting. Odo for the first timefound himself of consequence in the world; and as he was passed fromguest to guest, questioned about his journey, praised for his goodcolour and stout looks, complimented on his high prospects, andlaughingly entreated not to forget his old friends when fortune shouldadvance him to the duchy, he began to feel himself a reigning potentatealready. 

His mother, as he soon learned, had sunk into a life almost as dull andrestricted as that she had left Donnaz to escape. Count Valdu's positionat court was more ornamental than remunerative, the income from hisestates was growing annually smaller, and he was involved in costlylitigation over the sale of some entailed property. Such conditions werelittle to the Countess's humour, and the society to which her narrowmeans confined her offered few distractions to her vanity. Thefrequenters of the house were chiefly poor relations and hangers-on ofthe Count's, the parasites who in those days were glad to subsist on thecrumbs of the slenderest larder. Half-a-dozen hungry Countesses, theirlean admirers, a superannuated abate or two, and a flock of threadbareecclesiastics, made up Donna Laura's circle; and even her cicisbeo, selected in family council under the direction of her confessor, was anaustere gentleman of middle age, who collected ancient coins and wasengaged in composing an essay on the Martellian verse. 

This company, which devoted hours to the new French diversion of theparfilage, and spent the evenings in drinking lemonade and playingbasset for small stakes, found its chief topic of conversation in theonly two subjects safely discussed in Turin at that day--the doings ofthe aristocracy and of the clergy. The fashion of the Queen's headdressat the last circle, the marked manner in which his Majesty had latelydistinguished the brilliant young cavalry officer, Count Roberto diTournanches, the third marriage of the Countess Alfieri of Asti, theincredibility of the rumour that the court ladies of Versailles hadtaken to white muslin and Leghorn hats, the probable significance of theVicar-general's visit to Rome, the subject of the next sacredrepresentation to be given by the nuns of Santa Croce--such were thequestions that engaged the noble frequenters of Casa Valdu. 

This was the only society that Donna Laura saw; for she was too poor todress to her taste and too proud to show herself in public without theappointments becoming her station. Her sole distraction consisted invisits to the various shrines--the Sudario, the Consolata, the CorpusDomini--at which the feminine aristocracy offered up its devotions andimplored absolution for sins it had often no opportunity to commit: forthough fashion accorded cicisbei to the fine ladies of Turin, the Churchusually restricted their intercourse to the exchange of the mostharmless amenities. 

Meanwhile the antechamber was as full of duns as the approach to DonnaLaura's apartment at Pianura; and Odo guessed that the warmth of thematernal welcome sprang less from natural affection than from the hopeof using his expectations as a sop to her creditors. The pittance whichthe ducal treasury allowed for his education was scarce large enough tobe worth diverting to other ends; but a potential prince is a shield tothe most vulnerable fortunes. In this character Odo for the first timefound himself flattered, indulged, and made the centre of the company. The contrast to his life of subjection at Donnaz; the precociousinitiation into motives that tainted the very fount of filial piety; thetaste of this mingled draught of adulation and disillusionment, mighthave perverted a nature more self-centred than his. From thisperversion, and from many subsequent perils he was saved by a kind ofimaginative sympathy, a wondering joy in the mere spectacle of life, that tinged his most personal impressions with a streak of thephilosophic temper. If this trait did not save him from sorrow, it atleast lifted him above pettiness; if it could not solve the difficultiesof life it could arm him to endure them. It was the best gift of thepast from which he sprang; but it was blent with another quality, a deepmoral curiosity that ennobled his sensuous enjoyment of the outward showof life; and these elements were already tending in him, as in countlessyouths of his generation, to the formation of a new spirit, the spiritthat was to destroy one world without surviving to create another. 

Of all this none could have been less conscious than the lad justpreparing to enter on his studies at the Royal Academy of Turin. Thatinstitution, adjoining the royal palace, was a kind of nursery orforcing-house for the budding nobility of Savoy. In one division of thesumptuous building were housed his Majesty's pages, a corps of luxuriousindolent young fops; another wing accommodated the regular students ofthe Academy, sons of noblemen and gentlemen destined for the secularlife, while a third was set aside for the "forestieri" or students fromforeign countries and from the other Italian states. To this quarter OdoValsecca was allotted; though it was understood that on leaving theAcademy he was to enter the Sardinian service. 

It was customary for a young gentleman of Odo's rank to be attended atthe Academy not only by a body-servant but by a private governor orpedant, whose business it was to overlook his studies, attend himabroad, and have an eye to the society he frequented. The old Marquessof Donnaz had sent his daughter, by Odo's hand, a letter recommendingher to select her son's governor with particular care, choosing rather aperson of grave behaviour and assured morality than one of your glibink-spatterers who may know the inside of all the folios in the King'slibrary without being the better qualified for the direction of a younggentleman's conduct; and to this letter Don Gervaso appended the tersepostcript: "Your excellency is especially warned against according thisor any other position of trust to the merry-andrew who calls himself theabate Cantapresto. "

Donna Laura, with a shrug, handed the letter to her husband; CountValdu, adjusting his glasses, observed it was notorious that peopleliving in the depths of the country thought themselves qualified toinstruct their city relatives on all points connected with the socialusages; and the cicisbeo suggested that he could recommend an abate whowas proficient in the construction of the Martellian verse, and whowould made no extra charge for that accomplishment. 

"Charges!" the Countess cried. "There's a matter my father doesn't deignto consider. It's not enough, nowadays, to give the lads a governor, butthey must maintain their servants too, an idle gluttonous crew that preyon their pockets and get a commission off every tradesman's bill. "

Count Valdu lifted a deprecating hand. 

"My dear, nothing could be more offensive to his Majesty than anyattempt to reduce the way of living of the pupils of the Academy. "

"Of course, " she shrugged--"But who's to pay? The Duke's beggarlypittance hardly clothes him. "

The cicisbeo suggested that the cavaliere Odo had expectations; at whichDonna Laura flushed and turned uneasy; while the Count, part of whosemarital duty it was to intervene discreetly between his lady and herknight, now put forth the remark that the abate Cantapresto seemed ashrewd serviceable fellow. 

"Nor do I like to turn him adrift, " cried the Countess instantly, "afterhe has obliged us by attending my son on his journey. "

"And I understand, " added the Count, "that he would be glad to serve thecavaliere in any capacity you might designate. "

"Why not in all?" said the cicisbeo thoughtfully. "There would beundoubted advantages to the cavaliere in possessing a servant who wouldexplain the globes while powdering his hair and not be above calling hischair when he attended him to a lecture. "

And the upshot of it was that when Odo, a few days later, entered on hisfirst term at the Academy, he was accompanied by the abate Cantapresto, who had agreed, for a minimum of pay, to serve him faithfully in thedouble capacity of pedagogue and lacquey. 

The considerable liberty accorded the foreign students made Odo's firstyear at the Academy at once pleasanter and less profitable than had hebeen one of the regular pupils. The companions among whom he foundhimself were a set of lively undisciplined young gentlemen, chiefly fromEngland, Russia and the German principalities; all in possession of moreor less pocket-money and attended by governors either pedantic andself-engrossed or vulgarly subservient. These young sprigs, whoseambition it was to ape the dress and manners of the royal pages, led alife of dissipation barely interrupted by a few hours of attendance atthe academic classes. From the ill-effects of such surroundings Odo waspreserved by an intellectual curiosity that flung him ravening on hisstudies. It was not that he was of a bookish habit, or that the drudgeryof the classes was less irksome to him than to the other pupils; but noteven the pedantic methods then prevailing, or the distractions of hisnew life, could dull the flush of his first encounter with the past. Hisimagination took fire over the dry pages of Cornelius Nepos, glowed withthe mild pastoral warmth of the Georgics and burst into flame at thefirst hexameters of the Aeneid. He caught but a fragment of meaning hereand there, but the sumptuous imagery, the stirring names, the glimpsesinto a past where Roman senators were mingled with the gods of agold-pillared Olympus, filled his mind with a misty pageant ofimmortals. These moments of high emotion were interspersed with hours ofplodding over the Latin grammar and the textbooks of philosophy andlogic. Books were unknown ground to Cantapresto, and among masters andpupils there was not one who could help Odo to the meaning of his task, or who seemed aware that it might have a meaning. To most of the ladsabout him the purpose of the Academy was to fit young gentlemen for thearmy or the court; to give them the chance of sweating a shirt everymorning with the fencing-master and of learning to thread theintricacies of the court minuet. They modelled themselves on the dressand bearing of the pages, who were always ruffling it about thequadrangle in court dress and sword, or booted and spurred for a day'shunting at the King's chase of Stupinigi. To receive a nod or a wordfrom one of these young demigods on his way to the King's opera-box orjust back from a pleasure-party at her Majesty's villa above the Po--tohear of their tremendous exploits and thrilling escapades--seemed to putthe whole school in touch with the fine gentleman's world of intrigue, cards and duelling: the world in which ladies were subjugated, fortuneslost, adversaries run through and tradesmen ruined with thatimperturbable grace which distinguished the man of quality from theplebeian. 

Among the privileges of the foreign pupils were frequent visits to theroyal theatre; and here was to Odo a source of unimagined joys. Hissuperstitious dread of the stage (a sentiment, he soon discovered, thatnot even his mother's director shared) made his heart beat oppressivelyas he first set foot in the theatre. It was a gala night, boxes andstalls were thronged, and the audience-hall unfolded its glitteringcurves like some poisonous flower enveloping him in rich malignantfragrance. This impression was dispelled by the rising of the curtain ona scene of such Claude-like loveliness as it would have been impossibleto associate with the bug-bear tales of Donnaz or with the coarse anticsof the comedians at Chivasso. A temple girt with mysterious shade, lifting its colonnade above a sunlit harbour; and before the temple, vine-wreathed nymphs waving their thyrsi through the turns of amelodious dance--such was the vision that caught up Odo and swept himleagues away from the rouged and starred assemblage gathered in theboxes to gossip, flirt, eat ices and chocolates, and incidentally, inthe pauses of their talk, to listen for a moment to the ravishing airsof Metastasio's Achilles in Scyros. 

The distance between such performances--magic evocations of light andcolour and melody--and the gross buffoonery of the popular stage, stilltainted with the obscenities of the old commedia dell' arte, in ameasure explains the different points from which at that period thestage was viewed in Italy: a period when in such cities as Milan, Venice, Turin, actors and singers were praised to the skies and loadedwith wealth and favours, while the tatterdemalion players who set uptheir boards in the small towns at market-time or on feast-days weredespised by the people and flung like carrion into unconsecrated graves. The impression Odo had gathered from Don Gervaso's talk was of theprovincial stage in all its pothouse license; but here was a spectacleas lofty and harmonious as some great religious pageant. As the actiondeveloped and the beauty of the verse was borne to Odo on the lighthurrying ripples of Caldara's music he turned instinctively to share hispleasure with those about him. Cantapresto, in a new black coat andruffles, was conspicuously taking snuff from the tortoiseshell box whichthe Countess's cicisbeo had given him; but Odo saw that he took lesspleasure in the spectacle than in the fact of accompanying theheir-presumptive of Pianura to a gala performance at the royal theatre;and the lads about them were for the most part engaged either with theirown dress and appearance, or in exchanging greetings with the royalpages and the older students. A few of these sat near Odo, disdainfullysuperior in their fob-chains and queues; and as the boy glanced abouthim he met the fixed stare of one of the number, a tall youth seated athis elbow, and conspicuous, even in that modish company, for theexaggerated elegance of his dress. This young man, whose awkward bearingand long lava-hued face crowned with flamboyant hair contrasted oddlywith his finical apparel, returned Odo's look with a gaze of eagercomprehension. He too, it was clear, felt the thrill and wonder, or atleast re-lived them in the younger lad's emotion; and from that momentOdo felt himself in mute communion with his neighbour. 

The quick movement of the story--the succession of devices by which thewily Ulysses lures Achilles to throw off his disguise, while Deidamiastrives to conceal his identity; the scenic beauties of the background, shifting from sculpture-gallery to pleasance, from pleasance tobanquet-hall; the pomp and glitter of the royal train, the meltinggraces of Deidamia and her maidens; seemed, in their multiple appeal, todevelop in Odo new faculties of perception. It was his first initiationinto Italian poetry, and the numbers, now broken, harsh and passionate, now flowing into liquid sweetness, were so blent with sound and colourthat he scarce knew through which sense they reached him. Deidamia'sstrophes thrilled him like the singing-girl's kiss, and at the younghero's cry--

 Ma lo so ch' io sono Achille, E mi sento Achille in sen--

his fists tightened and the blood hummed in his ears. 

In the scene of the banquet-hall, where the followers of Ulysses laybefore Lycomedes the offerings of the Greek chieftains, and, while theKing and Deidamia are marvelling at the jewels and the Tyrian robes, Achilles, unmindful of his disguise, bursts out

Ah, chi vide finora armi piu belle?

--at this supreme point Odo again turned to his neighbour. Theyexchanged another look, and at the close of the act the youth leanedforward to ask with an air of condescension: "Is this your firstacquaintance with the divine Metastasio?"

"I have never been in a play-house before, " said Odo reddening. 

The other smiled. "You are fortunate in having so worthy an introductionto the stage. Many of our operas are merely vulgar and ridiculous; butMetastasio is a great poet. " Odo nodded a breathless assent. "A greatpoet, " his new acquaintance resumed, "and handling a great theme. But doyou not suffer from the silly songs that perpetually interrupt the flowof the verse? To me they are intolerable. Metastasio might have been agreat tragic dramatist if Italy would have let him. But Italy does notwant tragedies--she wishes to be sung to, danced to, made eyes at, flattered and amused! Give her anything, anything that shall help her toforget her own abasement. Panem et circenses! that is always her cry. And who can wonder that her sovereigns and statesmen are willing tohumour her, when even her poets stoop to play the mountebank for herdiversion?" The speaker, ruffling his locks with a hand that scatteredthe powder, turned on the brilliant audience his strange corrugatedfrown. "Fools! simpletons!" he cried, "not to see that in applauding theAchilles of Metastasio they are smiling at the allegory of their ownabasement! What are the Italians of today but men tricked out in women'sfinery, when they should be waiting full-armed to rally at the firstsignal of revolt? Oh, for the day when a poet shall arise who dares tellthem the truth, not disguised in sentimental frippery, not ending in amaudlin reconciliation of love and glory--but the whole truth, naked, cold and fatal as a patriot's blade; a poet who dares show thesebedizened courtiers they are no freer than the peasants they oppress, and tell the peasants they are entitled to the same privileges as theirmasters!" He paused and drew back with a supercilious smile. "Butdoubtless, sir, " said he, "I offend you in thus arraigning your sacredcaste; for unless I mistake you belong to the race of demi-gods--theTitans whose downfall is at hand?" He swept the boxes with acontemptuous eye. 

Little of this tirade was clear to Odo; but something in the speaker'stone moved him to answer, with a quick lifting of his head: "My name isOdo Valsecca, of the Dukes of Pianura;" when, fearing he had seemed toparade his birth before one evidently of inferior station, he at onceadded with a touch of shyness: "And you, sir, are perhaps a poet, sinceyou speak so beautifully?"

At which, with a stare and a straightening of his long awkward body, theother haughtily returned: "A poet, sir? I am the Count Vittorio Alfieriof Asti. "

1. 9. 

The singular being with whom chance had thus brought him acquainted wasto have a lasting influence on the formation of Odo's character. 

Vittorio Alfieri, then just concluding, at the age of sixteen, hisdesultory years of academic schooling, was probably the mostextraordinary youth in Charles Emmanuel's dominion. Of the futurestudent, of the tragic poet who was to prepare the liberation of Italyby raising the political ideals of his generation, this moody boy withhis craze for dress and horses, his pride of birth and contempt for hisown class, his liberal theories and insolently aristocratic practice, must have given small promise to the most discerning observer. It seemsindeed probable that none thought him worth observing and that he passedamong his townsmen merely as one of the most idle and extravagant youngnoblemen in a society where idleness and extravagance were held to bethe natural attributes of the great. But in the growth of character thelight on the road to Damascus is apt to be preceded by faint premonitorygleams; and even in his frivolous days at the Academy Alfieri carried aVirgil in his pocket and wept and trembled over Ariosto's verse. 

It was the instant response of Odo's imagination that drew the twotogether. Odo, as one of the foreign pupils, was quartered in the samewing of the Academy with the students of Alfieri's class, and enjoyed analmost equal freedom. Thus, despite the difference of age, the ladsfound themselves allied by taste and circumstances. Among the youth oftheir class they were perhaps the only two who already felt, howeverobscurely, the stirring of unborn ideals, the pressure of that tide ofrenovation that was to sweep them, on widely-sundered currents, to thesame uncharted deep. Alfieri, at any rate, represented to the youngerlad the seer who held in his hands the keys of knowledge and beauty. Odocould never forget the youth who first leant him Annibale Caro's Aeneidand Metastasio's opera libretti, Voltaire's Zaire and the comedies ofGoldoni; while Alfieri perhaps found in his companion's sympathy withhis own half-dormant tastes the first incentive to a nobler activity. Certain it is that, in the interchange of their daily comradeship, theelder gave his friend much that he was himself unconscious ofpossessing, and perhaps first saw reflected in Odo's more vividsensibility an outline of the formless ideals coiled in the depths ofhis own sluggish nature. 

The difference in age, and the possession of an independent fortune, which the laws of Savoy had left Alfieri free to enjoy since hisfifteenth year, gave him an obvious superiority over Odo; but ifAlfieri's amusements separated him from his young friend, his tasteswere always drawing them together; and Odo was happily of those who aremore engaged in profiting by what comes their way than in pining forwhat escapes them. Much as he admired Alfieri, it was somehow impossiblefor the latter to condescend to him; and the equality of intercoursebetween the two was perhaps its chief attraction to a youth surfeitedwith adulation. 

Of the opportunities his new friendship brought him, none became inafter years a pleasanter memory to Odo than his visits with Vittorio tothe latter's uncle, the illustrious architect Count Benedetto Alfieri. This accomplished and amiable man, who had for many years devoted histalents to the King's service, was lodged in a palace adjoining theAcademy; and thither, one holiday afternoon, Vittorio conducted hisyoung friend. 

Ignorant as Odo was of all the arts, he felt on the very threshold thenew quality of his surroundings. These tall bare rooms, where busts andsarcophagi were ranged as in the twilight of a temple, diffused aninfluence that lowered the voice and hushed the step. In thesemi-Parisian capital where French architects designed the King'spleasure-houses and the nobility imported their boudoir-panellings fromParis and their damask hangings from Lyons, Benedetto Alfierirepresented the old classic tradition, the tradition of the "grandmanner, " which had held its own through all later variations of taste, running parallel with the barocchismo of the seventeenth century and theeffeminate caprices of the rococo period. He had lived much in Rome, inthe company of men like Winckelmann and Maffei, in that society wherethe revival of classical research was being forwarded by the liberalityof Princes and Cardinals and by the indefatigable zeal of the scholarsin their pay. From this centre of aesthetic reaction Alfieri hadreturned to the Gallicized Turin, with its preference for the gracefuland ingenious rather than for the large, the noble, the restrained;bringing to bear on the taste of his native city the influence of a viewraised but perhaps narrowed by close study of the past: the view of ageneration of architects in whom archeological curiosity had stifled theartistic instinct, and who, instead of assimilating the spirit of thepast like their great predecessors, were engrossed in a sterilerestoration of the letter. It may be said of this school of architectsthat they were of more service to posterity than to theircontemporaries; for while they opened the way to modern antiquarianresearch, their pedantry checked the natural development of a stylewhich, if left to itself, might in time have found new and more vigorousforms of expression. 

To Odo, happily, Count Benedetto's surroundings spoke more forcibly thanhis theories. Every object in the calm severe rooms appealed to the boywith the pure eloquence of form. Casts of the Vatican busts stoodagainst the walls and a niche at one end of the library contained amarble copy of the Apollo Belvedere. The sarcophagi with their wingedgenii, their garlands and bucranes, and porphyry tazzas, the fragmentsof Roman mosaic and Pompeian fresco-painting, roused Odo's curiosity asif they had been the scattered letters of a new alphabet; and he sawwith astonishment his friend Vittorio's indifference to these wonders. Count Benedetto, it was clear, was resigned to his nephew's lack ofinterest. The old man doubtless knew that he represented to the youthonly the rich uncle whose crotchets must be humoured for the sake ofwhat his pocket may procure; and such kindly tolerance made Odo regretthat Vittorio should not at least affect an interest in his uncle'spursuits. 

Odo's eagerness to see and learn filled Count Benedetto with a simplejoy. He brought forth all his treasures for the boy's instruction andthe two spent many an afternoon poring over Piranesi's Roman etchings, Maffei's Verona Illustrata, and Count Benedetto's own elegantpencil-drawings of classical remains. Like all students of his day hehad also his cabinet of antique gems and coins, from which Odo obtainedmore intimate glimpses of that buried life so marvellously exhumedbefore him: hints of traffic in far-off market-places and familiargestures of hands on which those very jewels might have sparkled. Nordid the Count restrict the boy's enquiries to that distant past; and forthe first time Odo heard of the masters who had maintained the greatclassical tradition on Latin soil: Sanmichele, Vignola, Sansovino, andthe divine Michael Angelo, whom the old architect never named withoutbaring his head. From the works of these architects Odo formed his firstconception of the earlier, more virile manner which the first contactwith Graeco-Roman antiquity had produced. The Count told him, too, ofthe great painters whose popularity had been lessened, if their fame hadnot been dimmed, by the more recent achievements of Correggio, Guido, Guercino, and the Bolognese school. The splendour of the stanze of theVatican, the dreadful majesty of the Sistine ceiling, revealed to Odothe beauty of that unmatched moment before grandeur broke into bombast. His early association with the expressive homely art of the chapel atPontesordo and with the half-pagan beauty of Luini's compositions hadformed his taste on soberer lines than the fashion of the day affected;and his imagination breathed freely on the heights of the LatinParnassus. Thus, while his friend Vittorio stormed up and down the quietrooms, chattering about his horses, boasting of his escapades, orranting against the tyranny of the Sardinian government, Odo, at the oldCount's side, was entering on the great inheritance of the past. 

Such an initiation was the more precious to him from the indifference ofthose about him to all forms of liberal culture. Among the greaterItalian cities, Turin was at that period the least open to newinfluences, the most rigidly bound up in the formulas of the past. WhileMilan, under the Austrian rule, was becoming a centre of philosophicthought; while Naples was producing a group of economists such asGaliani, Gravina and Filangieri; while ecclesiastical Rome wasdedicating herself to the investigation of ancient art and polity, andeven flighty Venice had her little set of "liberals, " who read Voltaireand Hume and wept over the rights of man, the old Piedmontese capitallay in the grasp of a bigoted clergy and of a reigning house which wasalready preparing to superimpose Prussian militarism on the old feudaldiscipline of the border. Generations of hard fighting and rigorousliving had developed in the nobles the qualities which were preparingthem for the great part their country was to play; and contact with theWaldensian and Calvinist heresies had stiffened Piedmontese piety into asombre hatred of schism and a minute observance of the mechanical rulesof the faith. Such qualities could be produced only at the expense ofintellectual freedom; and if Piedmont could show a few nobles likeMassimo d'Azeglio's father, who "made the education of his children hisfirst and gravest thought" and supplemented the deficiencies of hiswife's conventual training by "consecrating to her daily four hours ofreading, translating and other suitable exercises, " the commoner viewwas that of Alfieri's own parents, who frequently repeated in theirson's hearing "the old maxim of the Piedmontese nobility" that there isno need for a gentleman to be a scholar. Such at any rate was theopinion of the old Marquess of Donnaz, and of all the frequenters ofCasa Valdu. Odo's stepfather was engrossed in the fulfilment of hisduties about the court, and Donna Laura, under the influence of povertyand ennui, had sunk into a state of rigid pietism; so that the lad, onhis visits to his mother, found himself in a world where art wasrepresented by the latest pastel-portrait of a court beauty, literatureby Liguori's Glories of Mary or the blessed Battista's Mental Sorrows ofChrist, and history by the conviction that Piedmont's efforts to stampout the enemies of the Church had distinguished her above every othercountry of Europe. Donna Laura's cicisbeo was indeed a member of thelocal Arcadia, and given to celebrating in verse every incident in thenoble household of Valdu, from its lady's name-day to the death of a petcanary; but his own tastes inclined to the elegant Bettinelli, whoseLettere Virgiliane had so conclusively shown Dante to be a writer ofbarbarous doggerel; and among the dilettanti of the day one heard lessof Raphael than of Carlo Maratta, less of Ariosto and Petrarch than ofthe Jesuit poet Padre Cevo, author of the sublime "heroico-comic" poemon the infancy of Jesus. 

It was in fact mainly to the Jesuits that Italy, in the early part ofthe eighteenth century, owed her literature and her art, as well as thedirection of her religious life. Though the reaction against the orderwas everywhere making itself felt, though one Italian sovereign afteranother had been constrained to purchase popularity or even security bybanishing the Society from his dominions, the Jesuits maintained theirhold on the aristocracy, whose pretentions they flattered, whose tastesthey affected, and to whom they represented the spirit of religious andpolitical conservatism, against which invisible forces were already feltto be moving. For the use of their noble supporters, the Jesuits haddevised a religion as elaborate and ceremonious as the social usages ofthe aristocracy: a religion which decked its chapels in imitation ofgreat ladies' boudoirs and prescribed observances in keeping with thevapid and gossiping existence of their inmates. 

To Odo, fresh from the pure air of Donnaz, where the faith of hiskinsfolk expressed itself in charity, self-denial and a noble decency oflife, there was something stifling in the atmosphere of languishingpietism in which his mother's friends veiled the emptiness of theirdays. Under the instruction of the Countess's director the boy'sconscience was enervated by the casuistries of Liguorianism and hisdevotion dulled by the imposition of interminable "pious practices. " Itwas in his nature to grudge no sacrifice to his ideals, and he mighthave accomplished without question the monotonous observances hisconfessor exacted, but for the changed aspect of the Deity in whose namethey were imposed. 

As with most thoughtful natures, Odo's first disillusionment was to comefrom discovering not what his God condemned, but what He condoned. Between Cantapresto's coarse philosophy of pleasure and the refinedcomplaisances of his new confessor he felt the distinction to be onerather of taste than of principle; and it seemed to him that thereligion of the aristocracy might not unfairly be summed up in theex-soprano's cynical aphorism: "As respectful children of our HeavenlyFather it behoves us not to speak till we are spoken to. "

Even the religious ceremonies he witnessed did not console him for thatchill hour of dawn, when, in the chapel at Donnaz, he had served themass for Don Gervaso, with a heart trembling at its own unworthiness yetuplifted by the sense of the Divine Presence. In the churches adornedlike aristocratic drawing-rooms, of which some Madonna, wreathed inartificial flowers, seemed the amiable and indulgent hostess, and wherethe florid passionate music of the mass was rendered by the King's operasingers before a throng of chattering cavaliers and ladies, Odo prayedin vain for a reawakening of the old emotion. The sense of sonship wasgone. He felt himself an alien in the temple of this affable divinity, and his heart echoed no more than the cry which had once lifted him onwings of praise to the very threshold of the hidden glory--

Domine, dilexi decorem domus tuae et locum habitationis gloriae tuae!

It was in the first reaction from this dimly felt loss that he lit oneday on a volume which Alfieri had smuggled into the Academy--the LettresPhilosophiques of Francois Arouet de Voltaire. 

BOOK II. 

THE NEW LIGHT. 

Zu neuen Ufern lockt ein neuer Tag. 

2. 1. 

One afternoon of April in the year 1774, Odo Valsecca, riding down thehillside below the church of the Superga, had reined in his horse at apoint where a group of Spanish chestnuts overhung the way. The air waslight and pure, the shady turf invited him, and dismounting he bid hisservant lead the horses to the wayside inn half way down the slope. 

The spot he had chosen, though secluded as some nook above the gorge ofDonnaz, commanded a view of the Po rolling at his feet like a flood ofyellowish metal, and beyond, outspread in clear spring sunshine, thegreat city in the bosom of the plain. The spectacle was fair enough totouch any fancy: brown domes and facades set in new-leaved gardens andsurrounded by vineyards extending to the nearest acclivities;country-houses glancing through the fresh green of planes and willows;monastery-walls cresting the higher ridges; and westward the Po windingin sunlit curves toward the Alps. 

Odo had lost none of his sensitiveness to such impressions; but the swayof another mood turned his eye from the outstretched beauty of the cityto the vernal solitude about him. It was the season when old memories ofDonnaz worked in his blood; when the banks and hedges of the freshhill-country about Turin cheated him with a breath of buddingbeech-groves and the fragrance of crushed fern in the glens of the highPennine valleys. It was a mere waft, perhaps, from some clod of loosenedearth, or the touch of cool elastic moss as he flung himself facedownward under the trees; but the savour, the contact filled hisnostrils with mountain air and his eyes with dim-branched distances. AtDonnaz the slow motions of the northern spring had endeared to him allthose sweet incipiencies preceding the full choral burst of leaf andflower: the mauve mist over bare woodlands, the wet black gleams infrost-bound hollows, the thrust of fronds through withered bracken, theprimrose-patches spreading like pale sunshine along wintry lanes. He hadalways felt a sympathy for these delicate unnoted changes; but thefeeling which had formerly been like the blind stir of sap in a plantwas now a conscious sensation that groped for speech and understanding. 

He had grown up among people to whom such emotions were unknown. The oldMarquess's passion for his fields and woods was the love of theagriculturist and the hunter, not that of the naturalist or the poet;and the aristocracy of the cities regarded the country merely as so muchsoil from which to draw their maintenance. The gentlefolk never absentedthemselves from town but for a few weeks of autumn, when they went totheir villas for the vintage, transporting thither all the diversions ofcity life and venturing no farther afield than the pleasure-grounds thatwere but so many open-air card-rooms, concert-halls and theatres. Odo'stenderness for every sylvan function of renewal and decay, everyshifting of light and colour on the flying surface of the year, wouldhave been met with the same stare with which a certain enchantingCountess had received the handful of wind-flowers that, fresh from asunrise on the hills, he had laid one morning among her toilet-boxes. The Countess Clarice had stared and laughed, and every one of hisacquaintance, Alfieri even, would have echoed her laugh; but one man atleast had felt the divine commotion of nature's touch, had felt andinterpreted it, in words as fresh as spring verdure, in the pages of avolume that Odo now drew from his pocket. 

"I longed to dream, but some unexpected spectacle continually distractedme from my musings. Here immense rocks hung their ruinous masses abovemy head; there the thick mist of roaring waterfalls enveloped me; orsome unceasing torrent tore open at my very feet an abyss into which thegaze feared to plunge. Sometimes I was lost in the twilight of a thickwood; sometimes, on emerging from a dark ravine, my eyes were charmed bythe sight of an open meadow... Nature seemed to revel in unwontedcontrasts; such varieties of aspect had she united in one spot. Here wasan eastern prospect bright with spring flowers, while autumn fruitsripened to the south and the northern face of the scene was still lockedin wintry frosts... Add to this the different angles at which the peakstook the light, the chiaroscuro of sun and shade, and the variations oflight resulting from it at morning and evening... Sum up the impressionsI have tried to describe and you will be able to form an idea of theenchanting situation in which I found myself... The scene has indeed amagical, a supernatural quality, which so ravishes the spirit and sensesthat one seems to lose all exact notion of one's surroundings andidentity. "

This was a new language to eighteenth-century readers. Already it hadswept through the length and breadth of France, like a spring storm-windbursting open doors and windows, and filling close candle-lit rooms withwet gusts and the scent of beaten blossoms; but south of the Alps thenew ideas travelled slowly, and the Piedmontese were as yet scarce awareof the man who had written thus of their own mountains. It was truethat, some thirty years earlier, in one of the very monasteries on whichOdo now looked down, a Swiss vagrant called Rousseau had embraced thetrue faith with the most moving signs of edification; but the rescue ofHelvetian heretics was a favourite occupation of the Turinese nobilityand it is doubtful if any recalled the name of the strange proselyte whohad hastened to signalise his conversion by robbing his employers andslandering an innocent maid-servant. Odo in fact owed his firstacquaintance with the French writers to Alfieri, who, in the intervalsof his wandering over Europe, now and then reappeared in Turin ladenwith the latest novelties in Transalpine literature and haberdashery. What his eccentric friend failed to provide, Odo had little difficultyin obtaining for himself; for though most of the new writers were on theIndex, and the Sardinian censorship was notoriously severe, there wasnever yet a barrier that could keep out books, and Cantapresto was askilled purveyor of contraband dainties. Odo had thus acquainted himselfwith the lighter literature of England and France; and though he hadread but few philosophical treatises, was yet dimly aware of the newstandpoint from which, north of the Alps, men were beginning to test theaccepted forms of thought. The first disturbance of his childish faith, and the coincident reading of the Lettres Philosophiques, had beenfollowed by a period of moral perturbation, during which he sufferedfrom that sense of bewilderment, of inability to classify the phenomenaof life, that is one of the keenest trials of inexperience. Youth andnature had their way with him, however, and a wholesome reaction ofindifference set in. The invisible world of thought and conduct had beenthe frequent subject of his musings; but the other, tangible world wasclose to him too, spreading like a rich populous plain between himselfand the distant heights of speculation. The old doubts, the olddissatisfactions, hung on the edge of consciousness; but he was tooprofoundly Italian not to linger awhile in that atmosphere of carelessacquiescence that is so pleasant a medium for the unhampered enjoymentof life. Some day, no doubt, the intellectual curiosity and the moraldisquietude would revive; but what he wanted now were books whichappealed not to his reason but to his emotions, which reflected as in amirror the rich and varied life of the senses: books that were warm tothe touch, like the little volume in his hand. 

For it was not only of nature that the book spoke. Amid scenes of suchrustic freshness were set human passions as fresh and natural: a greatromantic love, subdued to duty, yet breaking forth again and again asyoung shoots spring from the root of a felled tree. Toeighteenth-century readers such a picture of life was as new as itssetting. Duty, in that day, to people of quality, meant the observanceof certain fixed conventions: the correct stepping of a moral minuet; asan inner obligation, as a voluntary tribute to Diderot's "divinity onearth, " it had hardly yet drawn breath. To depict a personal relation somuch purer and more profound than any form of sentiment then in fashion, and then to subordinate it, unflinchingly, to the ideal of those largerrelations that link the individual to the group--this was a stroke oforiginality for which it would be hard to find a parallel in modernfiction. Here at last was an answer to the blind impulses agrope inOdo's breast--the loosening of those springs of emotion that gushedforth in such fresh contrast to the stagnant rills of the sentimentalpleasure-garden. To renounce a Julie would be more thrilling than--

Odo, with a sigh, thrust the book in his pocket and rose to his feet. Itwas the hour of the promenade at the Valentino and he had promised theCountess Clarice to attend her. The old high-roofed palace of the Frenchprincess lay below him, in its gardens along the river: he could figure, as he looked down on it, the throng of carriages and chairs, themodishly dressed riders, the pedestrians crowding the footpath to watchthe quality go by. The vision of all that noise and glitter deepened thesweetness of the woodland hush. He sighed again. Suddenly voices soundedin the road below--a man's speech flecked with girlish laughter. Odohung back listening: the girl's voice rang like a bird-call through hisrustling fancies. Presently she came in sight: a slender black-mantledfigure hung on the arm of an elderly man in the sober dress of one ofthe learned professions--a physician or a lawyer, Odo guessed. Theirbeing afoot, and the style of the man's dress, showed that they were ofthe middle class; their demeanour, that they were father and daughter. The girl moved with a light forward flowing of her whole body thatseemed the pledge of grace in every limb: of her face Odo had but abright glimpse in the eclipse of her flapping hat-brim. She stood underhis tree unheeded; but as they rose abreast of him the girl paused anddropped her companion's arm. 

"Look! The cherry flowers!" she cried, and stretched her arms to a whitegush of blossoms above the wall across the road. The movement tiltedback her hat, and Odo caught her small fine profile, wide-browed as thehead on some Sicilian coin, with a little harp-shaped ear bedded in darkripples. 

"Oh, " she wailed, straining on tiptoe, "I can't reach them!"

Her father smiled. "May temptation, " said he philosophically, "alwayshang as far out of your reach. "

"Temptation?" she echoed. 

"Is it not theft you're bent on?"

"Theft? This is a monk's orchard, not a peasant's plot. "

"Confiscation, then, " he humorously conceded. 

"Since they pay no taxes on their cherries they might at least, " sheargued, "spare a few to us poor taxpayers. "

"Ah, " said her father, "I want to tax their cherries, not to gatherthem. " He slipped a hand through her arm. "Come, child, " said he, "doesnot the philosopher tell us that he who enjoys a thing possesses it? Theflowers are yours already!"

"Oh, are they?" she retorted. "Then why doesn't the loaf in the baker'swindow feed the beggar that looks in at it?"

"Casuist!" he cried and drew her up the bend of the road. 

Odo stood gazing after them. Their words, their aspect, seemed an echoof his reading. The father in his plain broadcloth and square-buckledshoes, the daughter with her unpowdered hair and spreading hat, mighthave stepped from the pages of the romance. What a breath of freshnessthey brought with them! The girl's cheek was clear as thecherry-blossoms, and with what lovely freedom did she move! Thus Juliemight have led Saint Preux through her "Elysium. " Odo crossed the roadand, breaking one of the blossoming twigs, thrust it in the breast ofhis uniform. Then he walked down the hill to the inn where the horseswaited. Half an hour later he rode up to the house where he lodged inthe Piazza San Carlo. 

In the archway Cantapresto, heavy with a nine years' accretion of fat, laid an admonishing hand on his bridle. 

"Cavaliere, the Countess's black boy--"

"Well?"

"Three several times has battered the door down with a missive. "

"Well?"

"The last time, I shook him off with the message that you would be therebefore him. "

"Be where?"

"At the Valentino; but that was an hour ago!"

Odo slipped from the saddle. 

"I must dress first. Call a chair; or no--write a letter for me first. Let Antonio carry it. "

The ex-soprano, wheezing under the double burden of flesh andconsequence, had painfully laboured after Odo up the high stone flightsto that young gentleman's modest lodgings, and they stood together in astudy lined with books and hung with prints and casts from the antique. Odo threw off his dusty coat and called the servant to remove his boots. 

"Will you read the lady's letters, cavaliere?" Cantapresto asked, obsequiously offering them on a lacquered tray. 

"No--no: write first. Begin 'My angelic lady'--"

"You began the last letter in those terms, cavaliere, " his scribereminded him with suspended pen. 

"The devil! Well, then--wait. 'Throned goddess'--"

"You ended the last letter with 'throned goddess. '"

"Curse the last letter! Why did you send it?" Odo sprang up and slippedhis arms into the dress-tunic his servant had brought him. "Writeanything. Say that I am suddenly summoned by--"

"By the Count Alfieri?" Cantapresto suggested. 

"Count Alfieri? Is he here? He has returned?"

"He arrived an hour ago, cavaliere. He sent you this Moorish scimitarwith his compliments. I understand he comes recently from Spain. "

"Imbecile, not to have told me before! Quick, Antonio--my gloves, mysword. " Odo, flushed and animated, buckled his sword-belt with impatienthands. "Write anything--anything to free my evening. Tomorrowmorning--tomorrow morning I shall wait on the lady. Let Antonio carryher a nosegay with my compliments. Did you see him Cantapresto? Was hein good health? Does he sup at home? He left no message? Quick, Antonio, a chair!" he cried with his hand on the door. 

Odo had acquired, at twenty-two, a nobility of carriage not incompatiblewith the boyish candour of his gaze, and becomingly set off by thebrilliant dress-uniform of a lieutenant in one of the provincialregiments. He was tall and fair, and a certain languor of complexion, inherited from his father's house, was corrected in him by the vivacityof the Donnaz blood. This now sparkled in his grey eye, and gave a glowto his cheek, as he stepped across the threshold, treading on a sprig ofcherry-blossom that had dropped unnoticed to the floor. 

Cantapresto, looking after him, caught sight of the flowers and kickedthem aside with a contemptuous toe. "I sometimes think he botanises, " hemurmured with a shrug. "The Lord knows what queer notions he gets out ofall these books!"

2. 2. 

As an infusion of fresh blood to Odo were Alfieri's meteoric returns toTurin. Life moved languidly in the strait-laced city, even to a younggentleman a-tiptoe for adventure and framed to elicit it as thehazel-wand draws water. Not that vulgar distractions were lacking. Thetown, as Cantapresto had long since advised him, had its secretleniencies, its posterns opening on clandestine pleasure; but there wasthat in Odo which early turned him from such cheap counterfeits ofliving. He accepted the diversions of his age, but with a clear sense oftheir worth; and the youth who calls his pleasures by their true namehas learned the secret of resisting them. 

Alfieri's coming set deeper springs in motion. His follies andextravagances were on a less provincial scale than those of Odo's dailyassociates. The breath of a freer life clung to him and his allusionswere so many glimpses into a larger world. His political theories werebut the enlargement of his private grievances, but the mere play ofcriticism on accepted institutions was an exercise more novel andexhilirating than the wildest ride on one of his half-tamedthorough-breds. Still chiefly a man of pleasure, and the slave, asalways, of some rash infatuation, Alfieri was already shaking off theintellectual torpor of his youth; and the first stirrings of hiscuriosity roused an answering passion in Odo. Their tastes were indeeddivergent, for to that external beauty which was to Odo the very bloomof life, Alfieri remained insensible; while of its imaginativecounterpart, its prolongation in the realm of thought and emotion, hehad but the most limited conception. But his love of ringing deeds wokethe chivalrous strain in Odo, and his vague celebration of Liberty, thatunknown goddess to whom altars were everywhere building, chimed with theother's scorn of oppression and injustice. So far, it is true, theircompanionship had been mainly one of pleasure; but the temper of bothgave their follies that provisional character which saves them fromvulgarity. 

Odo, who had slept late on the morning after his friend's return, waswaked by the pompous mouthing of certain lines just then on every lip inItaly:--

 Meet was it that, its ancient seats forsaking, An Empire should set forth with dauntless sail, And braving tempests and the deep's betrayal, Break down the barriers of inviolate worlds-- That Cortez and Pizarro should esteem The blood of man a trivial sacrifice When, flinging down from their ancestral thrones Incas and Mexicans of royal line, They wrecked two kingdoms to refresh thy palate--

They were the verses in which the abate Parini, in his satire of TheMorning, apostrophizes the cup of chocolate which the lacquey presentsto his master. Cantapresto had in fact just entered with a cup of thisbeverage, and Alfieri, who stood at his friend's bedside with unpowderedlocks and a fashionable undress of Parisian cut, snatching the tray fromthe soprano's hands presented it to Odo in an attitude of mockservility. 

The young man sprang up laughing. It was the fashion to applaud Parini'sverse in the circles at which his satire was aimed, and none recited hismock heroics with greater zest than the young gentlemen whose fopperieshe ridiculed. Odo's toilet was indeed a rite almost as elaborate as thatof Parini's hero; and this accomplished, he was on his way to fulfil thevery duty the poet most unsparingly derides: the morning visit of thecicisbeo to his lady; but meanwhile he liked to show himself above thefollies of his class by joining in the laugh against them. When heissued from the powder-room in his gold-laced uniform, with scentedgloves and carefully-adjusted queue, he presented the image of a younggentleman so clearly equal to the most flattering emergencies thatAlfieri broke into a smile of half-ironical approval. "I see, my dearcavaliere, that it were idle to invite you to try one of the new Arabs Ihave brought with me from Spain, since it is plain other duties engageyou; but I come to lay claim to your evening. "

Odo hesitated. "The Queen holds a circle this evening, " he said. 

"And her lady-in-waiting is in attendance?" returned Alfieri. "And thelady-in-waiting's gentleman-in-waiting also?"

Odo made an impatient movement. "What inducements do you offer?" said hecarelessly. 

Alfieri stepped close and tapped him on the sleeve. "Meet me at teno'clock at the turn of the lane behind the Corpus Domini. Wear a cloakand a mask, and leave this gentleman at home with a flask of Asti. " Heglanced at Cantapresto. 

Odo hesitated a moment. He knew well enough where such midnight turningsled, and across the vision evoked by his friend's words a girl's faceflitted suddenly. 

"Is that all?" he said with a shrug. "You find me, I fear, in no humourfor such exploits. "

Alfieri smiled. "And if I say that I have promised to bring you?"

"Promised--?"

"To one as chary of exacting such pledges as I of giving them. If I saythat you stake your life on the adventure, and that the stake is not toogreat for the reward--?"

His sallow face had reddened with excitement, and Odo's foreheadreflected the flush. Was it possible--? But the thought set him tinglingwith disgust. 

"Why, you say little, " he cried lightly, "at the rate at which I valuemy life. "

Alfieri turned on him. "If your life is worthless; make it worthsomething!" he exclaimed. "I offer you the opportunity tonight. "

"What opportunity?"

"The sight of a face that men have laid down their lives to see. "

Odo laughed and buckled on his sword. "If you answer for the risk, Iagree to take it, " said he. "At ten o'clock then, behind the CorpusDomini. "

If the ladies whom gallant gentlemen delight to serve could guess whatsecret touchstones of worth these same gentlemen sometimes carry intothe adored presence, many a handsome head would be carried with lessassurance, and many a fond exaction less confidently imposed. If, forinstance, the Countess Clarice di Tournanches, whose high-coloured imagereflected itself so complacently in her Venetian toilet-glass, couldhave known that the Cavaliere Odo Valsecca's devoted glance saw herthrough the medium of a countenance compared to which her own revealedthe most unexpected shortcomings, she might have received him with lessairy petulance of manner. But how could so accomplished a mistress doubtthe permanence of her rule? The Countess Clarice, in singling out youngOdo Valsecca (to the despair of a score of more experienced cavaliers)had done him an honour that she could no more imagine his resigning thanan adventurer a throne to which he is unexpectedly raised. She was afinished example of the pretty woman who views the universe as plannedfor her convenience. What could go wrong in a world where noble ladieslived in palaces hung with tapestry and damask, with powdered lacqueysto wait on them, a turbaned blackamoor to tend their parrots andmonkeys, a coronet-coach at the door to carry them to mass or theridotto, and a handsome cicisbeo to display on the promenade? Everythinghad combined to strengthen the Countess Clarice's faith in the existingorder of things. Her husband, Count Roberto di Tournanches, was one ofthe King's equerries and distinguished for his brilliant career as anofficer of the Piedmontese army--a man marked for the highest favours ina society where military influences were paramount. Passing at sixteenfrom an aristocratic convent to the dreary magnificence of the PalazzoTournanches, Clarice had found herself a lady-in-waiting at the dullestcourt in Europe and the wife of an army officer engrossed in hisprofession, and pledged by etiquette to the service of another lady. OdoValsecca represented her escape from this bondage--the dash of romanceand folly in a life of elegant formalities; and the Countess, who wouldnot have sacrificed to him one of her rights as a court-lady or a nobildonna of the Golden Book, regarded him as the reward which Providenceaccords to a well-regulated conduct. 

Her room, when Odo entered it on taking leave of Alfieri, was crowded, as usual at that hour, with the hangers-on of the noble lady's lever:the abatino in lace ruffles, handing about his latest rhymed acrostic, the jeweller displaying a set of enamelled buckles newly imported fromParis, and the black-breeched doctor with white bands who concoctedremedies for the Countess's vapours and megrims. These personages, grouped about the toilet-table where the Countess sat under the hands ofa Parisian hairdresser, were picturesquely relieved against the stuccopanelling and narrow mirrors of the apartment, with its windows lookingon a garden set with mossy statues. To Odo, however, the scene suggestedthe most tedious part of his day's routine. The compliments to beexchanged, the silly verses to be praised, the gewgaws from Paris to beadmired, were all contrasted in his mind with the vision of that otherlife which had come to him on the hillside of the Superga. On this moodthe Countess Clarice's sarcasms fell without effect. To be pouted atbecause he had failed to attend the promenade of the Valentino was toOdo but a convenient pretext for excusing himself from the Queen'scircle that evening. He had engaged with little ardour to join Alfieriin what he guessed to be a sufficiently commonplace adventure; but as helistened to the Countess's chatter about the last minuet-step, and therelative merits of sanspareil water and oil-of-lilies, of gloves fromBlois and Vendome, his impatience hailed any alternative as a release. Meanwhile, however, long hours of servitude intervened. The lady'stoilet completed, to the adjusting of the last patch, he must attend herto dinner, where, placed at her side, he was awarded the honour ofcarving the roast; must sit through two hours of biribi in company withthe abatino, the doctor, and half-a-dozen parasites of the noble table;and for two hours more must ride in her gilt coach up and down thepromenade of the Valentino. 

Escaping from this ceremonial, with the consciousness that it must berepeated on the morrow, Odo was seized with that longing for freedomthat makes the first street-corner an invitation to flight. How heenvied Alfieri, whose travelling-carriage stood at the beck of suchmoods! Odo's scant means forbade evasion, even had his military dutiesnot kept him in Turin. He felt himself no more than a puppet dancing tothe tune of Parini's satire, a puny doll condemned, as the strings ofcustom pulled, to feign the gestures of immortal passions. 

2. 3. 

The night was moonless, with cold dashes of rain, and though the streetsof Turin were well-lit no lantern-ray reached the windings of the lanebehind the Corpus Domini. 

As Odo, alone under the wall of the church, awaited his friend'sarrival, he wondered what risk had constrained the reckless Alfieri tosuch unwonted caution. Italy was at that time a vast network ofespionage, and the Piedmontese capital passed for one of thebest-policed cities in Europe; but even on a moonless night the lawdistinguished between the noble pleasure-seeker and the obscuredelinquent whose fate it was to pay the other's shot. Odo knew that hewould probably be followed and his movements reported to theauthorities; but he was almost equally certain that there would be noactive interference in his affairs. What chiefly puzzled him wasAlfieri's insistence that Cantapresto should not be privy to theadventure. The soprano had long been the confidant of his pupil'sescapades, and his adroitness had often been of service in intriguessuch as that on which Odo now fancied himself engaged. The place, again, perplexed him: a sober quarter of convents and private dwellings, in thevery eye of the royal palace, scarce seeming the theatre for a lightadventure. These incongruities revived his former wonder; nor was thisdispelled by Alfieri's approach. 

The poet, masked and unattended, rejoined his friend without a word; andOdo guessed in him an eye and ear alert for pursuit. Guided by thepressure of his arm, Odo was hurried round the bend of the lane, up atransverse alley and across a little square lost between high shutteredbuildings. Alfieri, at his first word, gripped his arm with a backwardglance; then urged him on under the denser blackness of an archedpassage-way, at the end of which an oil-light glimmered. Here a gate ina wall confronted them. It opened at Alfieri's tap and Odo scented wetbox-borders and felt the gravel of a path under foot. The gate was atonce locked behind them and they entered the ground-floor of a house asdark as the garden. Here a maid-servant of close aspect met them with alamp and preceded them upstairs to a bare landing hung with charts andportulani. On Odo's flushed anticipations this antechamber, which seemedthe approach to some pedant's cabinet, had an effect undeniablychilling; but Alfieri, heedless of his surprise, had cast off cloak andmask, and now led the way into a long conventual-looking room lined withbook-shelves. A knot of middle-aged gentlemen of sober dress and manner, gathered about a cabinet of fossils in the centre of this apartment, looked up at the entrance of the two friends; then the group divided, and Odo with a start recognised the girl he had seen on the road to theSuperga. 

She bowed gravely to the young men. "My father, " said she, in a clearvoice without trace of diffidence, "has gone to his study for a book, but will be with you in a moment. "

She wore a dress in keeping with her manner, its black stuff folds andthe lawn kerchief crossed on her bosom giving height and authority toher slight figure. The dark unpowdered hair drawn back over a cushionmade a severer setting for her face than the fluctuating brim of hershade-hat; and this perhaps added to the sense of estrangement withwhich Odo gazed at her; but she met his look with a smile, and instantlythe rosy girl flashed through her grave exterior. 

"Here is my father, " said she; and her companion of the previous daystepped into the room with several folios under his arm. 

Alfieri turned to Odo. "This, my dear Odo, " said he, "is mydistinguished friend, Professor Vivaldi, who has done us the honour ofinviting us to his house. " He took the Professor's hand. "I have broughtyou, " he continued, "the friend you were kind enough to include in yourinvitation--the Cavaliere Odo Valsecca. "

Vivaldi bowed. "Count Alfieri's friends, " said he, "are always welcometo my house; though I fear there is here little to interest a younggentleman of the Cavaliere Valsecca's years. " And Odo detected a shadeof doubt in his glance. 

"The Cavaliere Valsecca, " Alfieri smilingly rejoined, "is above hisyears in wit and learning, and I answer for his interest as I do for hisdiscretion. "

The Professor bowed again. "Count Alfieri, sir, " he said, "has doubtlessexplained to you the necessity that obliges me to be so private inreceiving my friends; and now perhaps you will join these gentlemen inexamining some rare fossil fish newly sent me from the Monte Bolca. "

Odo murmured a civil rejoinder; but the wonder into which the sight ofthe young girl had thrown him was fast verging on stupefaction. Whatmystery was here? What necessity compelled an elderly professor toreceive his scientific friends like a band of political conspirators?How above all, in the light of the girl's presence, was Odo to interpretAlfieri's extravagant allusions to the nature of their visit?

The company having returned to the cabinet of fossils, none seemed toobserve his disorder but the young lady who was its cause; and seeinghim stand apart she advanced with a smile, saying, "Perhaps you wouldrather look at some of my father's other curiosities. "

Simple as the words were, they failed to restore Odo's self-possession, and for a moment he made no answer. Perhaps she partly guessed the causeof his commotion; yet it was not so much her beauty that silenced him, as the spirit that seemed to inhabit it. Nature, in general so chary ofher gifts, so prone to use one good feature as the palliation of a dozendeficiencies, to wed the eloquent lip with the ineffectual eye, hadindeed compounded her of all fine meanings, making each grace thecomplement of another and every outward charm expressive of some inwardquality. Here was as little of the convent-bred miss as of the flippantand vapourish fine lady; and any suggestion of a less fair alternativevanished before such candid graces. Odo's confusion had in truth sprungfrom Alfieri's ambiguous hints; and these shrivelling to nought in thegaze that encountered his, constraint gave way to a sense of wonderingpleasure. 

"I should like to see whatever you will show me, " said he, as simply asone child speaking to another; and she answered in the same tone, "Thenwe'll glance at my father's collections before the serious business ofthe evening begins. "

With these words she began to lead him about the room, pointing out andexplaining the curiosities it contained. It was clear that, like manyscholars of his day, Professor Vivaldi was something of an eclectic inhis studies, for while one table held a fine orrery, a cabinet of coinsstood near, and the book-shelves were surmounted by specimens of coraland petrified wood. Of all these rarities his daughter had a word tosay, and though her explanations were brief and without affectation ofpedantry, they put her companion's ignorance to the blush. It must beowned, however, that had his learning been a match for hers it wouldhave stood him in poor stead at the moment; his faculties being lost inthe wonder of hearing such discourse from such lips. To his complimentson her erudition she returned with a smile that what learning she hadwas no merit, since she had been bred in a library; to which shesuddenly added:--"You are not unknown to me, Cavaliere; but I neverthought to see you here. "

The words renewed her hearer's surprise; but giving him no time toreply, she went on in a lower tone:--"You are young and the world isfair before you. Have you considered that before risking yourself amongus?"

She coloured under Odo's wondering gaze, and at his random rejoinderthat it was a risk any man would gladly take without considering, sheturned from him with a gesture in which he fancied a shade ofdisappointment. 

By this they had reached the cabinet of fossils, about which theinterest of the other guests still seemed to centre. Alfieri, indeed, paced the farther end of the room with the air of awaiting the despatchof some tedious business; but the others were engaged in an animateddiscussion necessitating frequent reference to the folios Vivaldi hadbrought from his study. 

The latter turned to Odo as though to include him in the group. "I donot know, sir, " said he, "whether you have found leisure to study theseenigmas of that mysterious Sphinx, the earth; for though Count Alfierihas spoken to me of your unusual acquirements, I understand your tasteshave hitherto lain rather in the direction of philosophy and letters;"and on Odo's prompt admission of ignorance, he courteously continued:"The physical sciences seem, indeed, less likely to appeal to theimaginative and poetical faculty in man, and, on the other hand, religion has appeared to prohibit their too close investigation; yet Iquestion if any thoughtful mind can enter on the study of these curiousphenomena without feeling, as it were, an affinity between suchinvestigations and the most abstract forms of thought. For whether weregard these figured stones as of terriginous origin, either mere lususnaturae, or mineral formations produced by a plastic virtue latent inthe earth, or whether as in fact organic substances lapidified by theaction of water; in either case, what speculations must their originexcite, leading us back into that dark and unexplored period of timewhen the breath of Creation was yet moving on the face of the waters!"

Odo had listened but confusedly to the first words of this discourse;but his intellectual curiosity was too great not to respond to such anappeal, and all his perplexities slipped from him in the pursuit of theProfessor's thought. 

One of the other guests seemed struck by his look of attention. "My dearVivaldi, " said this gentleman, laying down a fossil, and fixing his gazeon Odo while he addressed the Professor, "why use such superannuatedformulas in introducing a neophyte to a study designed to subvert thevery foundations of the Mosaic cosmogony? I take it the Cavaliere is oneof us, since he is here this evening: why, then, permit him to strayeven for a moment in the labyrinth of theological error?"

The Professor's deprecating murmur was cut short by an outburst fromanother of the learned group, a red-faced spectacled personage in adoctor's gown. 

"Pardon me for suggesting, " he exclaimed, "that the conditional terms inwhich our host was careful to present his hypotheses are better suitedto the instruction of the neophyte than our learned friend's positiveassertions. But if the Vulcanists are to claim the Cavaliere Valsecca, may not the Diluvials also have a hearing? How often must it be repeatedthat theology as well as physical science is satisfied by the Diluvialexplanation of the origin of petrified organisms, whereas inexorablelogic compels the Vulcanists to own that their thesis is subversive ofall dogmatic belief?"

The first speaker answered with a gesture of disdain. "My dear doctor, you occupy a chair in our venerated University. From that exaltedcathedra the Mosaic theory of Creation must still be expounded; but inthe security of these surroundings--the catacombs of the new faith--whykeep up the forms of an obsolete creed? As long ago as Pythagoras, manwas taught that all things were in a state of flux, without end aswithout beginning, and must we still, after more than two thousandyears, pretend to regard the universe as some gigantic toy manufacturedin six days by a Superhuman Artisan, who is presently to destroy it athis pleasure?"

"Sir, " cried the other, flushing from red to purple at this assault, "Iknow not on what ground you insinuate that my private convictions differfrom my public doctrine--"

But here, with a firmness tempered by the most scrupulous courtesy, Professor Vivaldi intervened. 

"Gentlemen, " said he, "the discussion in which you are engaged, interesting as it is, must, I fear, distract us from the true purpose ofour meeting. I am happy to offer my house as the asylum of all freeresearch; but you must remember that the first object of these reunionsis, not the special study of any one branch of modern science, but theapplication of physical investigation to the origin and destiny of man. In other words, we ask the study of nature to lead us to the knowledgeof ourselves; and it is because we approach this great problem from apoint as yet unsanctioned by dogmatic authority, that I am reluctantlyobliged"--and here he turned to Odo with a smile--"to throw a veil ofprivacy over these inoffensive meetings. "

Here at last was the key to the enigma. The gentlemen assembled inProfessor Vivaldi's rooms were met there to discuss questions not safelyaired in public. They were conspirators indeed, but the liberation theyplanned was intellectual rather than political; though the acuter amongthem doubtless saw whither such innovations tended. Meanwhile they werecontent to linger in that wide field of speculation which thedevelopment of the physical sciences had recently opened to philosophicthought. As, at the Revival of Learning, the thinker imprisoned inmediaeval dialectics suddenly felt under his feet the firm ground ofclassic argument, so, in the eighteenth century, philosophy, longsuspended in the void of metaphysic, touched earth again and, Antaeus-like, drew fresh life from the contact. It was clear thatProfessor Vivaldi, whose very name had been unknown to Odo, was animportant figure in the learned world, and one uniting the tact andfirmness necessary to control those dissensions from which philosophyitself does not preserve its disciples. His words calmed the twodisputants who were preparing to do battle over Odo's unborn scientificcreed, and the talk growing more general, the Professor turned to hisdaughter, saying, "My Fulvia, is the study prepared?"

She signed her assent, and her father led the way to an inner cabinet, where seats were drawn about a table scattered with pamphlets, gazettesand dictionaries, and set out with modest refreshments. Here began aconversation ranging from chemistry to taxation, and from theperfectibility of man to the secondary origin of the earth's surface. Itwas evident to Odo that, though the Professor's guests represented allshades of opinion, some being clearly loth to leave the safe anchorageof orthodoxy, while others already braved the seas of free enquiry, yetall were at one as to the need of unhampered action and discussion. Odo's dormant curiosity woke with a start at the summons of freshknowledge. Here were worlds to explore, or rather the actual world abouthim, a region then stranger and more unfamiliar than the lost Atlantisof fable. Liberty was the word on every lip, and if to some itrepresented the right to doubt the Diluvial origin of fossils, to othersthat of reforming the penal code, to a third (as to Alfieri) merelypersonal independence and relief from civil restrictions; yet thesefragmentary conceptions seemed, to Odo's excited fancy, to blend in thevision of a New Light encircling the whole horizon of thought. Heunderstood at last Alfieri's allusion to a face for the sight of whichmen were ready to lay down their lives; and if, as he walked home beforedawn, those heavenly lineaments were blent in memory with features of amortal cast, yet these were pure and grave enough to stand for the imageof the goddess. 

2. 4. 

Professor Orazio Vivaldi, after filling with distinction the chair ofPhilosophy at the University of Turin, had lately resigned his officethat he might have leisure to complete a long-contemplated work on theOrigin of Civilisation. His house was the meeting-place of a societycalling itself of the Honey-Bees and ostensibly devoted to the study ofthe classical poets, from whose pages the members were supposed to cullmellifluous nourishment; but under this guise the so-called literati hadfor some time indulged in free discussion of religious and scientificquestions. The Academy of the Honey-Bees comprised among its members allthe independent thinkers of Turin: doctors of law, of philosophy andmedicine, chemists, philologists and naturalists, with one or twomembers of the nobility, who, like Alfieri, felt, or affected, aninterest in the graver problems of life, and could be trusted not tobetray the true character of the association. 

These details Odo learned the next day from Alfieri; who went on to saythat, owing to the increased vigilance of the government, and to thebanishment of several distinguished men accused by the Church ofheretical or seditious opinions, the Honey-Bees had of late been obligedto hold their meetings secretly, it being even rumoured that Vivaldi, who was their president, had resigned his professorship and withdrawnbehind the shelter of literary employment in order to elude theobservation of the authorities. Men had not yet forgotten the fate ofthe Neapolitan historian, Pietro Giannone, who for daring to attack thecensorship and the growth of the temporal power had been driven fromNaples to Vienna, from Vienna back to Venice, and at length, at theprompting of the Holy See, lured across the Piedmontese frontier byCharles Emmanuel of Savoy, and imprisoned for life in the citadel ofTurin. The memory of his tragic history--most of all, perhaps, of hisrecantation and the "devout ending" to which solitude and persecutionhad forced the freest spirit of his day--hovered like a warning on thehorizon of thought and constrained political speculation to hide itselfbehind the study of fashionable trifles. Alfieri had lately joined theassociation of the Honey-Bees, and the Professor, at his suggestion, hadinvited Odo, for whose discretion his friend declared himself ready toanswer. The Honey-Bees were in fact desirous of attracting young men ofrank who felt an interest in scientific or economic problems; for it washoped that in this manner the new ideas might imperceptibly permeate theclass whose privileges and traditions presented the chief obstacle toreform. In France, it was whispered, free-thinkers and politicalagitators were the honoured guests of the nobility, who eagerly embracedtheir theories and applied them to the remedy of social abuses. Only bysimilar means could the ideals of the Piedmontese reformers be realised;and in those early days of universal illusion none appeared to suspectthe danger of arming inexperienced hands with untried weapons. Utopiawas already in sight; and all the world was setting out for it as forsome heavenly picnic ground. 

Of Vivaldi himself, Alfieri spoke with extravagant admiration. Hisaffable exterior was said to conceal the moral courage of one ofPlutarch's heroes. He was a man after the antique pattern, ready to laydown fortune, credit and freedom in the defence of his convictions. "AnAgamemnon, " Alfieri exclaimed, "who would not hesitate to sacrifice hisdaughter to obtain a favourable wind for his enterprise!"

The metaphor was perhaps scarcely to Odo's taste; but at least it gavehim the chance for which he had waited. "And the daughter?" he asked. 

"The lovely doctoress?" said Alfieri carelessly. "Oh, she's one of yourprodigies of female learning, such as our topsy-turvy land produces: anincipient Laura Bassi or Gaetana Agnesi, to name the most distinguishedof their tribe; though I believe that hitherto her father's good senseor her own has kept her from aspiring to academic honours. The beautifulFulvia is a good daughter, and devotes herself, I'm told, to helpingVivaldi in his work; a far more becoming employment for one of her ageand sex than defending Latin theses before a crew of ribald students. "

In this Odo was of one mind with him; for though Italy was used to thespectacle of the Improvisatrice and the female doctor of philosophy, itis doubtful if the character was one in which any admirer cared to seehis divinity figure. Odo, at any rate, felt a distinct satisfaction inlearning that Fulvia Vivaldi had thus far made no public display of herlearning. How much pleasanter to picture her as her father's aid, perhaps a sharer in his dreams: a vestal cherishing the flame of Libertyin the secret sanctuary of the goddess! He scarce knew as yet of whathis feeling for the girl was compounded. The sentiment she had rousedwas one for which his experience had no name: an emotion in which awemingled with an almost boyish sense of fellowship, sex as yet lurkingout of sight as in some hidden ambush. It was perhaps her associationwith a world so unfamiliar and alluring that lent her for the moment hergreatest charm. Odo's imagination had been profoundly stirred by what hehad heard and seen at the meeting of the Honey-Bees. That impatiencewith the vanity of his own pursuits and with the injustice of existingconditions, which hovered like a phantom at the feast of life, had atlast found form and utterance. Parini's satires and the bitter mockeryof the "Frusta Letteraria" were but instruments of demolition; but thearguments of the Professor's friends had that constructive quality soappealing to the urgent temper of youth. Was the world in ruins? Thenhere was a plan to rebuild it. Was humanity in chains? Behold the angelon the threshold of the prison!

Odo, too impatient to await the next reunion of the Honey-Bees, soughtout and frequented those among the members whose conversation hadchiefly attracted him. They were grave men, of studious and retiringhabit, leading the frugal life of the Italian middle-class, a life indignified contrast to the wasteful and aimless existence of thenobility. Odo's sensitiveness to outward impressions made him peculiarlyalive to this contrast. None was more open than he to the seducements ofluxurious living, the polish of manners, the tacit exclusion of all thatis ugly or distressing; but it seemed to him that fine living should bebut the flower of fine feeling, and that such external graces, when theyadorned a dull and vapid society, were as incongruous as the royalpurple on a clown. Among certain of his new friends he found aclumsiness of manner somewhat absurdly allied with an attempt at Romanausterity; but he was fair-minded enough to see that the middle-classdoctor or lawyer who tries to play the Cicero is, after all, a morerespectable figure than the Marquess who apes Caligula or Commodus. Still, his lurking dilettantism made him doubly alive to the elegance ofthe Palazzo Tournanches when he went thither from a coarse meal in thestuffy dining-parlour of one of his new acquaintances; as he neverrelished the discourse of the latter more than after an afternoon in thesociety of the Countess's parasites. 

Alfieri's allusions to the learned ladies for whom Italy was noted madeOdo curious to meet the wives and daughters of his new friends; for heknew it was only in their class that women received something more thanthe ordinary conventual education; and he felt a secret desire tocompare Fulvia Vivaldi with other young girls of her kind. Learnedladies he met, indeed; for though the women-folk of some of thephilosophers were content to cook and darn for them (and perhapssecretly burn a candle in their behalf to Saint Thomas Aquinas or SaintDominick, refuters of heresy), there were others who aspired to all thehonours of scholarship, and would order about their servant-girls inTuscan, and scold their babies in Ciceronian Latin. Among these fairgrammarians, however, he met none that wore her learning lightly. Theywere forever tripping in the folds of their doctors' gowns, anddelivering their most trivial views ex cathedra; and too often the poorphilosophers, their lords and fathers, cowered under their harangueslike frightened boys under the tongue of a schoolmaster. 

It was in fact only in the household of Orazio Vivaldi that Odo foundthe simplicity and grace of living for which he longed. Alfieri hadwarned him not to visit the Professor too often, since the latter, beingunder observation, might be compromised by the assiduity of his friends. Odo therefore waited for some days before presenting himself, and whenhe did so it was at the angelus, when the streets were crowded and aman's comings and goings the less likely to be marked. He found Vivaldireading with his daughter in the long library where the Honey-Bees heldtheir meetings; but Fulvia at once withdrew, nor did she show herselfagain during Odo's visit. It was clear that, proud of her as Vivaldiwas, he had no wish to parade her attainments, and that in her dailylife she maintained the Italian habit of seclusion; but to Odo she waseverywhere present in the quiet room with its well-ordered books andcuriosities, and the scent of flowers rising through the shutteredwindows. He was sensible of an influence permeating even the inanimateobjects about him, so that they seemed to reflect the spirit of thosewho dwelt there. No room had given him this sense of companionship sincehe had spent his boyish holidays in the old Count Benedetto'sapartments; but it was of another, intangible world that his presentsurroundings spoke. Vivaldi received him kindly and asked him to repeathis visit; and Odo returned as often as he thought prudent. 

The Professor's conversation engaged him deeply. Vivaldi's familiaritywith French speculative literature, and with its sources in theexperiential philosophy of the English school, gave Odo his first clearconception of the origin and tendency of the new movement. Thiscoordination of scattered ideas was aided by his readings in theEncyclopaedia, which, though placed on the Index in Piedmont, was to befound behind the concealed panels of more than one private library. Fromhis talks with Alfieri, and from the pages of Plutarch, he had gained acertain insight into the Stoical view of reason as the measure ofconduct, and of the inherent sufficiency of virtue as its own end. Henow learned that all about him men were endeavouring to restore thehuman spirit to that lost conception of its dignity; and he longed tojoin the band of new crusaders who had set out to recover the tomb oftruth from the forces of superstition. The distinguishing mark ofeighteenth-century philosophy was its eagerness to convert itsacquisitions in every branch of knowledge into instruments of practicalbeneficence; and this quality appealed peculiarly to Odo, who had everbeen moved by abstract theories only as they explained or modified thedestiny of man. Vivaldi, pleased by his new pupil's eagerness to learn, took pains to set before him this aspect of the struggle. 

"You will now see, " he said, after one of their long talks about theEncyclopaedists, "why we who have at heart the mental and socialregeneration of our countrymen are so desirous of making a concertedeffort against the established system. It is only by united action thatwe can prevail. The bravest mob of independent fighters has littlechance against a handful of disciplined soldiers, and the Church isperfectly logical in seeing her chief danger in the Encyclopaedia'ssystematised marshalling of scattered truths. As long as the attacks onher authority were isolated, and as it were sporadic, she had little tofear even from the assaults of genius; but the most ordinary intellectmay find a use and become a power in the ranks of an organisedopposition. Seneca tells us the slaves in ancient Rome were at one timeso numerous that the government prohibited their wearing a distinctivedress lest they should learn their strength and discover that the citywas in their power; and the Church knows that when the countless spiritsshe has enslaved without subduing have once learned their number andefficiency they will hold her doctrines at their mercy. --The Churchagain, " he continued, "has proved her astuteness in making faith thegift of grace and not the result of reason. By so doing she placedherself in a position which was well-nigh impregnable till the school ofNewton substituted observation for intuition and his followers showedwith increasing clearness the inability of the human mind to apprehendanything outside the range of experience. The ultimate claim of theChurch rests on the hypothesis of an intuitive faculty in man. Disprovethe existence of this faculty, and reason must remain the supreme testof truth. Against reason the fabric of theological doctrine cannot longhold out, and the Church's doctrinal authority once shaken, men will nolonger fear to test by ordinary rules the practical results of herteaching. We have not joined the great army of truth to waste our timein vain disputations over metaphysical subtleties. Our aim is, byfreeing the mind of man from superstition to relieve him from thepractical abuses it entails. As it is impossible to examine any fiscalor industrial problem without discovering that the chief obstacle toimprovement lies in the Church's countless privileges and exemptions, soin every department of human activity we find some inveterate wrongtaking shelter under the claim of a divinely-revealed authority. Thisclaim demolished, the stagnant current of human progress will soon burstits barriers and set with a mighty rush toward the wide ocean of truthand freedom... "

That general belief in the perfectibility of man which cheered theeighteenth-century thinkers in their struggle for intellectual libertycoloured with a delightful brightness this vision of a renewed humanity. It threw its beams on every branch of research, and shone like anaureole round those who laid down fortune and advancement to purchasethe new redemption of mankind. Foremost among these, as Odo now learned, were many of his own countrymen. In his talks with Vivaldi he firstexplored the course of Italian thought and heard the names of the greatjurists, Vico and Gravina, and of his own contemporaries, Filangieri, Verri and Beccaria. Vivaldi lent him Beccaria's famous volume andseveral numbers of the "Caffe, " the brilliant gazette which Verri andhis associates were then publishing in Milan, and in which all thequestions of the day, theological, economic and literary, were discussedwith a freedom possible only under the lenient Austrian rule. 

"Ah, " Vivaldi cried, "Milan is indeed the home of the free spirit, andwere I not persuaded that a man's first duty is to improve the conditionof his own city and state, I should long ago have left this unhappykingdom; indeed I sometimes fancy I may yet serve my own people betterby proclaiming the truth openly at a distance than by whispering it intheir midst. "

It was a surprise to Odo to learn that the new ideas had already takensuch hold in Italy, and that some of the foremost thinkers on scientificand economic subjects were among his own countrymen. Like alleighteenth-century Italians of his class he had been taught to look toFrance as the source of all culture, intellectual and social; and he wasamazed to find that in jurisprudence, and in some of the naturalsciences, Italy led the learning of Europe. 

Once or twice Fulvia showed herself for a moment; but her manner wasretiring and almost constrained, and her father always contrived anexcuse for dismissing her. This was the more noticeable as she continuedto appear at the meetings of the Honey-Bees, where she joined freely inthe conversation, and sometimes diverted the guests by playing on theharpsichord or by recitations from the poets; all with such art andgrace, and withal so much simplicity, that it was clear she wasaccustomed to the part. Odo was thus driven to the not unflatteringconclusion that she had been instructed to avoid his company; and afterthe first disappointment he was too honest to regret it. He was deeplydrawn to the girl; but what part could she play in the life of a man ofhis rank? The cadet of an impoverished house, it was unlikely that hewould marry; and should he do so, custom forbade even the thought oftaking a wife outside of his class. Had he been admitted to freeintercourse with Fulvia, love might have routed such prudent counsels;but in the society of her father's associates, where she moved, as in ahalo of learning, amid the respectful admiration of middle-agedphilosophers and jurists, she seemed as inaccessible as a young Minerva. 

Odo, at first, had been careful not to visit Vivaldi too often; but theProfessor's conversation was so instructive, and his library soinviting, that inclination got the better of prudence, and the young manfell into the habit of turning almost daily down the lane behind theCorpus Domini. Vivaldi, too proud to betray any concern for his personalsafety, showed no sign of resenting the frequency of these visits;indeed, he received Odo with an increasing cordiality that, to an olderobserver, might have betokened an effort to hide his apprehension. 

One afternoon, escaping later than usual from the Valentino, Odo hadagain bent toward the quiet quarter behind the palace. He was afoot, with a cloak over his laced coat, and the day being Easter Monday thestreets were filled with a throng of pleasure-seekers amid whom itseemed easy enough for a man to pass unnoticed. Odo, as he crossed thePiazza Castello, thought it had never presented a gayer scene. Boothswith brightly-striped awnings had been set up under the arcades, whichwere thronged with idlers of all classes; court-coaches dashed acrossthe square or rolled in and out of the palace-gates; and the PalazzoMadama, lifting against the sunset its ivory-tinted columns and statues, seemed rather some pictured fabric of Claude's or Bibbiena's than anactual building of brick and marble. The turn of a corner carried himfrom this spectacle into the solitude of a by-street where his own treadwas the only sound. He walked on carelessly; but suddenly he heard whatseemed an echo of his step. He stopped and faced about. No one was insight but a blind beggar crouching at the side-door of the CorpusDomini. Odo walked on, listening, and again he heard the step, and againturned to find himself alone. He tried to fancy that his ear had trickedhim; but he knew too much of the subtle methods of Italian espionage notto feel a secret uneasiness. His better judgment warned him back; butthe desire to spend a pleasant hour prevailed. He took a turn throughthe neighbouring streets, in the hope of diverting suspicion, and tenminutes later was at the Professor's gate. 

It opened at once, and to his amazement Fulvia stood before him. She hadthrown a black mantle over her head, and her face looked pale and vividin the fading light. Surprise for a moment silenced Odo, and before hecould speak the girl, without pausing to close the gate, had drawn himtoward her and flung her arms about his neck. In the first disorder ofhis senses he was conscious only of seeking her lips; but an instantlater he knew it was no kiss of love that met his own, and he felt hertremble violently in his arms. He saw in a flash that he was on unknownground; but his one thought was that Fulvia was in trouble and looked tohim for aid. He gently freed himself from her hold and tried to shape asoothing question; but she caught his arm and, laying a hand over hismouth, drew him across the garden and into the house. The lower floorstood dark and empty. He followed Fulvia up the stairs and into thelibrary, which was also empty. The shutters stood wide, admitting theevening freshness and a drowsy scent of jasmine from the garden. 

Odo could not control a thrill of strange anticipation as he foundhimself alone in this silent room with the girl whose heart had solately beat against his own. She had sunk into a chair, with her facehidden, and for a moment or two he stood before her without speaking. Then he knelt at her side and took her hands with a murmur ofendearment. 

At his touch she started up. "And it was I, " she cried, "who persuadedmy father that he might trust you!" And she sank back sobbing. 

Odo rose and moved away, waiting for her overwrought emotion to subside. At length he gently asked, "Do you wish me to leave you?"

She raised her head. "No, " she said firmly, though her lip stilltrembled; "you must first hear an explanation of my conduct; though itis scarce possible, " she added, flushing to the brow, "that you have notalready guessed the purpose of this lamentable comedy. "

"I guess nothing, " he replied, "save that perhaps I may in some wayserve you. "

"Serve me?" she cried, with a flash of anger through her tears. "It is alate hour to speak of service, after what you have brought on thishouse!"

Odo turned pale. "Here indeed, madam, " said he, "are words that need anexplanation. "

"Oh, " she broke forth, "and you shall have it; though I think to anyother it must be writ large upon my countenance. " She rose and paced thefloor impetuously. "Is it possible, " she began again, "you do not yetperceive the sense of that execrable scene? Or do you think, by feigningignorance, to prolong my humiliation? Oh, " she said, pausing before him, her breast in a tumult, her eyes alight, "it was I who persuaded myfather of your discretion and prudence, it was through my influence thathe opened himself to you so freely; and is this the return you make?Alas, why did you leave your fashionable friends and a world in whichyou are so fitted to shine, to bring unhappiness on an obscure householdthat never dreamed of courting your notice?"

As she stood before him in her radiant anger, it went hard with Odo notto silence with a kiss a resentment that he guessed to be mainlydirected against herself; but he controlled himself and said quietly:"Madam, I were a dolt not to perceive that I have had the misfortune tooffend; but when or how, I swear to heaven I know not; and till youenlighten me I can neither excuse nor defend myself. "

She turned pale, but instantly recovered her composure. "You are right, "she said; "I rave like a foolish girl; but indeed I scarce know if I amin my waking senses"--She paused, as if to check a fresh rush ofemotion. "Oh, sir, " she cried, "can you not guess what has happened? Youwere warned, I believe, not to frequent this house too openly; but oflate you have been an almost daily visitor, and you never come here butyou are followed. My father's doctrines have long been under suspicion, and to be accused of perverting a man of your rank must be his ruin. Hewas too proud to tell you this, and profiting today by his absence, andknowing that if you came the spies would be at your heels, I resolved tomeet you at the gate, and welcome you in such a way that our enemiesshould be deceived as to the true cause of your visits. "

Her voice wavered on the last words, but she faced him proudly, and itwas Odo whose gaze fell. Never perhaps had he been conscious of cuttinga meaner figure; yet shame was so blent in him with admiration for thegirl's nobility and courage, that compunction was swept away in theimpulse that flung him at her feet. 

"Ah, " he cried, "I have been blind indeed, and what you say abases me toearth. Yes, I was warned that my visits might compromise your father;nor had I any pretext for returning so often but my own selfish pleasurein his discourse; or so at least, " he added in a lower voice, "I choseto fancy--but when we met just now at the gate, if you acted a comedy, believe me, I did not; and if I have come day after day to this house, it is because, unknowingly, I came for you. "

The words had escaped him unawares, and he was too sensible of theiruntimeliness not to be prepared for the gesture with which she cut himshort. 

"Oh, " said she, in a tone of the liveliest reproach, "spare me this lastaffront if you wish me to think the harm you have already done was doneunknowingly!"

Odo rose to his feet, tingling under the rebuke. "If respect andadmiration be an affront, madam, " he said, "I cannot remain in yourpresence without offending, and nothing is left me but to withdraw; butbefore going I would at least ask if there is no way of repairing theharm that my over-assiduity has caused. "

She flushed high at the question. "Why, that, " she said, "is in part, Itrust, already accomplished; indeed, " she went on with an effort, "itwas when I learned the authorities suspected you of coming here on agallant adventure that I devised the idea of meeting you at the gate;and for the rest, sir, the best reparation you can make is one that willnaturally suggest itself to a gentleman whose time must already be sofully engaged. "

And with that she made him a deep reverence, and withdrew to the innerroom. 

2. 5. 

When the Professor's gate closed on Odo night was already falling andthe oil-lamp at the end of the arched passage-way shed its weak circleof light on the pavement. This light, as Odo emerged, fell on aretreating figure which resembled that of the blind beggar he had seencrouching on the steps of the Corpus Domini. He ran forward, but the manhurried across the little square and disappeared in the darkness. Odohad not seen his face; but though his dress was tattered, and he leanedon a beggar's staff, something about his broad rolling back recalled thewell-filled outline of Cantapresto's cassock. 

Sick at heart, Odo rambled on from one street to another, avoiding themore crowded quarters, and losing himself more than once in thedistricts near the river, where young gentlemen of his figure seldomshowed themselves unattended. The populace, however, was all abroad, andhe passed as unregarded as though his sombre thoughts had enveloped himin actual darkness. 

It was late when at length he turned again into the Piazza Castello, which was brightly lit and still thronged with pleasure-seekers. As heapproached, the crowd divided to make way for three or four handsometravelling-carriages, preceded by linkmen and liveried out-riders andfollowed by a dozen mounted equerries. The people, evidently in thehumour to greet every incident of the streets as part of a show preparedfor their diversion, cheered lustily as the carriages dashed across thesquare; and Odo, turning to a man at his elbow, asked who thedistinguished visitors might be. 

"Why, sir, " said the other laughing, "I understand it is only anEmbassage from some neighbouring state; but when our good people are intheir Easter mood they are ready to take a mail-coach for Elijah'schariot and their wives' scolding for the Gift of Tongues. "

Odo spent a restless night face to face with his first humiliation. Though the girl's rebuff had cut him to the quick, it was the vision ofthe havoc his folly had wrought that stood between him and sleep. Tohave endangered the liberty, the very life, perhaps, of a man he lovedand venerated, and who had welcomed him without heed of personal risk, this indeed was bitter to his youthful self-sufficiency. The thought ofGiannone's fate was like a cold clutch at his heart; nor was there anybalm in knowing that it was at Fulvia's request he had been so freelywelcomed; for he was persuaded that, whatever her previous feeling mighthave been, the scene just enacted must render him forever odious to her. Turn whither it would, his tossing vanity found no repose; and dawn rosefor him on a thorny waste of disillusionment. 

Cantapresto broke in early on this vigil, flushed with the importance ofa letter from the Countess Valdu. The lady summoned her son to dinner, "to meet an old friend and distinguished visitor"; and a verbal messagebade Odo come early and wear his new uniform. He was too well acquaintedwith his mother's exaggerations to attach much importance to thesummons; but being glad of an excuse to escape his daily visit at thePalazzo Tournanches, he sent Donna Laura word that he would wait on herat two. 

On the very threshold of Casa Valdu, Odo perceived that unwontedpreparations were afoot. The shabby liveries of the servants had beenrefurbished and the marble floor newly scoured; and he found his motherseated in the drawing-room, an apartment never unshrouded save on themost ceremonious occasions. As to Donna Laura, she had undergone thesame process of renovation, and with more striking results. It seemed toOdo, when she met him sparkling under her rouge and powder, as thoughsome withered flower had been dipped in water, regaining for the momenta languid semblance of its freshness. Her eyes shone, her hand trembledunder his lips, and the diamonds rose and fell on her eager bosom. 

"You are late!" she tenderly reproached him; and before he had time toreply, the double doors were thrown open, and the major-domo announcedin an awed voice: "His excellency Count Lelio Trescorre. "

Odo turned with a start. To his mind, already crowded with a confusionof thoughts, the name summoned a throng of memories. He saw again hismother's apartments at Pianura, and the handsome youth with lace rufflesand a clouded amber cane, who came and went among her other visitorswith an air of such superiority, and who rode beside thetravelling-carriage on the first stage of their journey to Donnaz. Tothat handsome youth the gentleman just announced bore the likeness ofthe finished portrait to the sketch. He was a man of abouttwo-and-thirty, of the middle height, with a delicate dark face and anair of arrogance not unbecomingly allied to an insinuating courtesy ofaddress. His dress of sombre velvet, with a star on the breast, and aprofusion of the finest lace, suggested the desire to add dignity andweight to his appearance without renouncing the softer ambitions of hisage. 

He received with a smile Donna Laura's agitated phrases of welcome. "Icome, " said he kissing her hand, "in my private character, not as theEnvoy of Pianura, but as the friend and servant of the Countess Valdu;and I trust, " he added turning to Odo, "of the Cavaliere Valsecca also. "

Odo bowed in silence. 

"You may have heard, " Trescorre continued, addressing him in the sameengaging tone, "that I am come to Turin on a mission from his Highnessto the court of Savoy: a trifling matter of boundary-lines and customs, which I undertook at the Duke's desire, the more readily, it must beowned, since it gave me the opportunity to renew my acquaintance withfriends whom absence has not taught me to forget. " He smiled again atDonna Laura, who blushed like a girl. 

The curiosity which Trescorre's words excited was lost to Odo in thepainful impression produced by his mother's agitation. To see her, awoman already past her youth, and aged by her very efforts to preserveit, trembling and bridling under the cool eye of masculine indifference, was a spectacle the more humiliating that he was too young to be movedby its human and pathetic side. He recalled once seeing a memento moriof delicately-tinted ivory, which represented a girl's head, one sideall dewy freshness, the other touched with death; and it seemed to himthat his mother's face resembled this tragic toy, the side her mirrorreflected being still rosy with youth, while that which others saw wasalready a ruin. His heart burned with disgust as he followed Donna Lauraand Trescorre into the dining-room, which had been set out with all thefamily plate, and decked with rare fruits and flowers. The Countess hadexcused her husband on the plea of his official duties, and the threesat down alone to a meal composed of the costliest delicacies. 

Their guest, who ate little and drank less, entertained them with thelatest news of Pianura, touching discreetly on the growing estrangementbetween the Duke and Duchess, and speaking with becoming gravity of theheir's weak health. It was clear that the speaker, without filling anofficial position at the court, was already deep in the Duke's counsels, and perhaps also in the Duchess's; and Odo guessed under his smilingindiscretions the cool aim of the man who never wastes a shot. 

Toward the close of the meal, when the servants had withdrawn, he turnedto Odo with a graver manner. "You have perhaps guessed, cavaliere, " hesaid, "that in venturing to claim the Countess's hospitality in soprivate a manner, I had in mind the wish to open myself to you morefreely than would be possible at court. " He paused a moment, as thoughto emphasise his words; and Odo fancied he cultivated the trick ofdeliberate speaking to counteract his natural arrogance of manner. "Thetime has come, " he went on, "when it seems desirable that you should bemore familiar with the state of affairs at Pianura. For some years itseemed likely that the Duchess would give his Highness another son; butcircumstances now appear to preclude that hope; and it is the generalopinion of the court physicians that the young prince has not many yearsto live. " He paused again, fixing his eyes on Odo's flushed face. "TheDuke, " he continued, "has shown a natural reluctance to face a situationso painful both to his heart and his ambitions; but his feelings as aparent have yielded to his duty as a sovereign, and he recognises thefact that you should have an early opportunity of acquainting yourselfmore nearly with the affairs of the duchy, and also of seeing somethingof the other courts of Italy. I am persuaded, " he added, "that, young asyou are, I need not point out to you on what slight contingencies allhuman fortunes hang, and how completely the heir's recovery or the birthof another prince must change the aspect of your future. You have, I amsure, the heart to face such chances with becoming equanimity, and tocarry the weight of conditional honours without any undue faith in theirpermanence. "

The admonition was so lightly uttered that it seemed rather a tribute toOdo's good sense than a warning to his inexperience; and indeed it wasdifficult for him, in spite of an instinctive aversion to the man, toquarrel with anything in his address or language. Trescorre in factpossessed the art of putting younger men at their ease, while appearingas an equal among his elders: a gift doubtless developed by thecircumstances of court life, and the need of at once commanding respectand disarming diffidence. 

He took leave upon his last words, declaring, in reply to the Countess'sprotests, that he had promised to accompany the court that afternoon toStupinigi. "But I hope, " he added, turning to Odo, "to continue our talkat greater length, if you will favour me with a visit tomorrow at mylodgings. "

No sooner was the door closed on her illustrious visitor than DonnaLaura flung herself on Odo's bosom. 

"I always knew it, " she cried, "my dearest; but, oh, that I should liveto see the day!" and she wept and clung to him with a thousandendearments, from the nature of which he gathered that she alreadybeheld him on the throne of Pianura. To his laughing reminder of thedistance that still separated him from that dizzy eminence, she madeanswer that there was far more than he knew, that the Duke had falleninto all manner of excesses which had already gravely impaired hishealth, and that for her part she only hoped her son, when raised to astation so far above her own, would not forget the tenderness with whichshe had ever cherished him, or the fact that Count Valdu's financialsituation was one quite unworthy the stepfather of a reigning prince. 

Escaping at length from this parody of his own sensations, Odo foundhimself in a tumult of mind that solitude served only to increase. Events had so pressed upon him within the last few days that at times hewas reduced to a passive sense of spectatorship, an inability to regardhimself as the centre of so many converging purposes. It was clear thatTrescorre's mission was mainly a pretext for seeing the Duke's youngkinsman; and that some special motive must have impelled the Duke toshow such sudden concern for his cousin's welfare. Trescorre need hardlyhave cautioned Odo against fixing his hopes on the succession. The Dukehimself was a man not above five-and-thirty, and more than one chancestood between Odo and the duchy; nor was it this contingency that sethis pulses beating, but rather the promise of an immediate change in hiscondition. The Duke wished him to travel, to visit the different courtsof Italy: what was the prospect of ruling over a stagnant principalityto this near vision of the world and the glories thereof, suddenlydiscovered from the golden height of opportunity? Save for a few weeksof autumn villeggiatura at some neighbouring chase or vineyard, Odo hadnot left Turin for nine years. He had come there a child and had grownto manhood among the same narrow influences and surroundings. To beturned loose on the world at two-and-twenty, with such an arrears ofexperience to his credit, was to enter on a richer inheritance than anyduchy; and in Odo's case the joy of the adventure was doubled by itstimeliness. That fate should thus break at a stroke the meshes of habit, should stoop to play the advocate of his secret inclinations, seemed topromise him the complicity of the gods. Once in a lifetime, chance willthus snap the toils of a man's making; and it is instructive to see thepoor puppet adore the power that connives at his evasion... 

Trescorre remained a week in Turin; and Odo saw him daily at court, athis lodgings, or in company. The little sovereignty of Pianura being animportant factor in the game of political equilibrium, her envoy wassure of a flattering reception from the neighbouring powers; andTrescorre's person and address must have commended him to the mostfastidious company. He continued to pay particular attention to Odo, andthe rumour was soon abroad that the Cavaliere Valsecca had been sent forto visit his cousin, the reigning Duke; a rumour which, combined withDonna Laura's confidential hints, made Odo the centre of much femininesolicitude, and roused the Countess Clarice to a vivid sense of herrights. These circumstances, and his own tendency to drift on thecurrent of sensation, had carried Odo more easily than he could havehoped past the painful episode of the Professor's garden. He was stilltormented by the sense of his inability to right so grave a wrong; buthe found solace in the thought that his absence was after all the bestreparation he could make. 

Trescorre, though distinguishing Odo by his favours, had not againreferred to the subject of their former conversation; but on the lastday of his visit he sent for Odo to his lodgings and at once enteredupon the subject. 

"His Highness, " said he, "does not for the present recommend yourresigning your commission in the Sardinian army; but as he desires youto visit him at Pianura, and to see something of the neighbouringcourts, he has charged me to obtain for you a two years' leave ofabsence from his Majesty's service: a favour the King has already beenpleased to accord. The Duke has moreover resolved to double your presentallowance and has entrusted me with the sum of two hundred ducats, whichhe desires you to spend in the purchase of a travelling-carriage, andsuch other appointments as are suitable to a gentleman of your rank andexpectations. " As he spoke, he unlocked his despatch-box and handed apurse to Odo. "His Highness, " he continued, "is impatient to see you;and once your preparations are completed, I should advise you to set outwithout delay; that is, " he added, after one of his characteristicpauses, "if I am right in supposing that there is no obstacle to yourdeparture. "

Odo, inferring an allusion to the Countess Clarice, smiled and colouredslightly. "I know of none, " he said. 

Trescorre bowed. "I am glad to hear it, " he said, "for I know that a manof your age and appearance may have other inclinations than his own toconsider. Indeed, I have had reports of a connection that I should nottake the liberty of mentioning, were it not that your interest demandsit. " He waited a moment, but Odo remained silent. "I am sure, " he wenton, "you will do me the justice of believing that I mean no reflectionon the lady, when I warn you against being seen too often in the quarterbehind the Corpus Domini. Such attachments, though engaging at theoutset to a fastidious taste, are often more troublesome than a youngman of your age can foresee; and in this case the situation iscomplicated by the fact that the girl's father is in ill odour with theauthorities, so that, should the motive of your visits be mistaken, youmight find yourself inconveniently involved in the proceedings of theHoly Office. "

Odo, who had turned pale, controlled himself sufficiently to listen insilence, and with as much pretence of indifference as he could assume. It was the peculiar misery of his situation that he could not defendFulvia without betraying her father, and that of the two alternativesprudence bade him reject the one that chivalry would have chosen. Itflashed across him, however, that he might in some degree repair theharm he had done by finding out what measures were to be taken againstVivaldi; and to this end he carelessly asked:--"Is it possible that theProfessor has done anything to give offence in such quarters?"

His assumption of carelessness was perhaps overdone; for Trescorre'sface grew as blank as a shuttered house-front. 

"I have heard rumours of the kind, " he rejoined; "but they wouldscarcely have attracted my notice had I not learned of your honouringthe young lady with your favours. " He glanced at Odo with a smile. "WereI a father, " he added, "with a son of your age, my first advice to himwould be to form no sentimental ties but in his own society or in theworld of pleasure--the only two classes where the rules of the game areunderstood. "

2. 6. 

Odo had appointed to leave Turin some two weeks after Trescorre'sdeparture; but the preparations for a young gentleman's travels were inthose days a momentous business, and one not to be discharged withoutvexatious postponements. The travelling-carriage must be purchased andfitted out, the gold-mounted dressing-case selected and engraved withthe owner's arms, servants engaged and provided with liveries, and thenoble tourist's own wardrobe stocked with an assortment of costumessuited to the vicissitudes of travel and the requirements of court life. 

Odo's impatience to be gone increased with every delay, and at length hedetermined to go forward at all adventure, leaving Cantapresto toconclude the preparations and overtake him later. It had been agreedwith Trescorre that Odo, on his way to Pianura, should visit hisgrandfather, the old Marquess, whose increasing infirmities had for someyears past imprisoned him on his estates, and accordingly about theAscension he set out in the saddle for Donnaz, attended only by oneservant, and having appointed that Cantapresto should meet him with thecarriage at Ivrea. 

The morning broke cloudy as he rode out of the gates. Beyond the suburbsa few drops fell, and as he pressed forward the country lay before himin the emerald freshness of a spring rain, vivid strips of vineyardalternating with silvery bands of oats, the domes of the walnut-treesdripping above the roadside, and the poplars along the water-courses allslanting one way in the soft continuous downpour. He had left Turin inthat mood of clinging melancholy which waits on the most hopefuldepartures, and the landscape seemed an image of anticipations cloudedwith regret. He had had a stormy but tender parting with Clarice, whoseefforts to act the forsaken Ariadne were somewhat marred by herirrepressible pride in her lover's prospects, and whose last word hadcharged him to bring her back one of the rare lap-dogs bred by the monksof Bologna. Seen down the lengthening vista of separation even Clariceseemed regrettable; and Odo would have been glad to let his mind lingeron their farewells. But another thought importuned him. He had leftTurin without news of Vivaldi or Fulvia, and without having doneanything to conjure the peril to which his rashness had exposed them. More than once he had been about to reveal his trouble to Alfieri; butshame restrained him when he remembered that it was Alfieri who hadvouched for his discretion. After his conversation with Trescorre he hadtried to find some way of sending a word of warning to Vivaldi; but hehad no messenger whom he could trust; and would not Vivaldi justlyresent a warning from such a source? He felt himself the prisoner of hisown folly, and as he rode along the wet country roads an invisiblegaoler seemed to spur beside him. 

The clouds lifted at noon; and leaving the plain he mounted into a worldsparkling with sunshine and quivering with new-fed streams. The firstbreath of mountain-air lifted the mist from his spirit, and he began tofeel himself a boy again as he entered the high gorges in the cold lightafter sunset. It was about the full of the moon, and in his impatienceto reach Donnaz he resolved to push on after nightfall. The forest wasstill thinly-leaved, and the rustle of wind in the branches and thenoise of the torrents recalled his first approach to the castle, in thewild winter twilight. The way lay in darkness till the moon rose, andonce or twice he took a wrong turn and found himself engaged in someovergrown woodland track; but he soon regained the high-road, and hisservant, a young fellow of indomitable cheerfulness, took the edge offtheir solitude by frequent snatches of song. At length the moon rose, and toward midnight Odo, spurring out of a dark glen, found himself atthe opening of the valley of Donnaz. A cold radiance bathed the familiarpastures, the houses of the village along the stream, and the turretsand crenellations of the castle at the head of the gorge. The air wasbitter, and the horses' hoofs struck sharply on the road as they trottedpast the slumbering houses and halted at the gateway through which Odohad first been carried as a sleepy child. It was long before thetravellers' knock was answered, but a bewildered porter at lengthadmitted them, and Odo cried out when he recognised in the man's facethe features of one of the lads who had taught him to play pallone inthe castle court. 

Within doors all were abed; but the cavaliere was expected, and supperlaid for him in the very chamber where he had slept as a lad. The sightof so much that was strange and yet familiar--of the old stone walls, the banners, the flaring lamps and worn slippery stairs--all so muchbarer, smaller, more dilapidated than he had remembered--stirred thedeep springs of his piety for inanimate things, and he was seized with afancy to snatch up a light and explore the recesses of the castle. Buthe had been in the saddle since dawn, and the keen air and the longhours of riding were in his blood. They weighted his lids, relaxed hislimbs, and gently divesting him of his hopes and fears, pressed him downin the deep sepulchre of a dreamless sleep... 

Odo remained a month at Donnaz. His grandfather's happiness in hispresence would in itself have sufficed to detain him, apart from hisnatural tenderness for old scenes and associations. It was one of thecompensations of his rapidly travelling imagination that the past, fromeach new vantage-ground of sensation, acquired a fascination which tothe more sober-footed fancy only the perspective of years can give. Life, in childhood, is a picture-book of which the text isundecipherable; and the youth now revisiting the unchanged setting ofhis boyhood was spelling out for the first time the legend beneath thepicture. 

The old Marquess, though broken in body, still ruled his household fromhis seat beside the hearth. The failure of bodily activity seemed tohave doubled his moral vigour, and the walls shook with the vehemence ofhis commands. The Marchioness was sunk in a state of placid apathy fromwhich only her husband's outbursts roused her; one of the canonesses wasdead, and the other, drier and more shrivelled than ever, pined in hercorner like a statue whose mate is broken. Bruno was dead too; his olddog's bones had long since enriched a corner of the vineyard; and someof the younger lads that Odo had known about the place were grown tosober-faced men with wives and children. 

Don Gervaso was still chaplain of Donnaz; and Odo saw with surprise thatthe grave ecclesiastic who had formerly seemed an old man to him was infact scarce past the middle age. In general aspect he was unchanged; buthis countenance had darkened, and what Odo had once taken for harshnessof manner he now perceived to be a natural melancholy. The young man hadnot been long at Donnaz without discovering that in that little world ofcrystallised traditions the chaplain was the only person conscious ofthe new forces abroad. It had never occurred to the Marquess thatanything short of a cataclysm such as it would be blasphemy to predictcould change the divinely established order whereby the territorial lordtook tithes from his peasantry and pastured his game on their crops. Thehierarchy which rested on the bowed back of the toiling serf andculminated in the figure of the heaven-sent King seemed to him asimmutable as the everlasting hills. The men of his generation had notlearned that it was built on a human foundation and that a suddenmovement of the underlying mass might shake the structure to itspinnacle. The Marquess, who, like Donna Laura, already beheld Odo on thethrone of Pianura, was prodigal of counsels which showed a touchinginability to discern the new aspect under which old difficulties werelikely to present themselves. That a ruler should be brave, prudent, personally abstemious, and nobly lavish in his official display; that heshould repress any attempts on the privileges of the Church, while atthe same time protecting his authority from the encroachments of theHoly See; these axioms seemed to the old man to sum up the sovereign'sduty to the state. The relation, to his mind, remained a distinctlypersonal and paternal one; and Odo's attempts to put before him the newtheory of government, as a service performed by the ruler in theinterest of the ruled, resulted only in stirring up the old sediment ofabsolutism which generations of feudal power had deposited in the Donnazblood. 

Only the chaplain perceived what new agencies were at work; but even helooked on as a watcher from a distant tower, who sees opposing armiesfar below him in the night, without being able to follow their movementsor guess which way the battle goes. 

"The days, " he said to Odo, "are evil. The Church's enemies, thebasilisks and dragons of unbelief and license, are stirring in their oldlairs, the dark places of the human spirit. It is time that a freshpurification by blood should cleanse the earth of its sins. That hourhas already come in France, where the blood of heretics has latelyfertilised the soil of faith; it will come here, as surely as I nowstand before you; and till it comes the faithful can only weary heavenwith their entreaties, if haply thereby they may mitigate the evil. Ishall remain here, " he continued, "while the Marquess needs me; but thattask discharged, I intend to retire to one of the contemplative orders, and with my soul perpetually uplifted like the arms of Moses, wear outmy life in prayer for those whom the latter days shall overtake. "

Odo had listened in silence; but after a moment he said: "My father, among those who have called in to question the old order of things thereare many animated by no mere desire for change, no idle inclination topry into the divine mysteries, but who earnestly long to ease the burdenof mankind and let light into what you have called the dark places ofthe spirit. How is it, they ask, that though Christ came to save thepoor and the humble, it is on them that life presses most heavily aftereighteen hundred years of His rule? All cannot be well in a world wheresuch contradictions exist, and what if some of the worst abuses of theage have found lodgment in the very ramparts that faith has builtagainst them?"

Don Gervaso's face grew stern and his eyes rested sadly on Odo. "Youspeak, " said he, "of bringing light into dark places; but what light isthere on earth save that which is shed by the Cross, and where shallthey find guidance who close their eyes to that divine illumination?"

"But is there not, " Odo rejoined, "a divine illumination within each ofus, the light of truth which we must follow at any cost--or have theworst evils and abuses only to take refuge in the Church to findsanctuary there, as malefactors find it?"

The chaplain shook his head. "It is as I feared, " he said, "and Satanhas spread his subtlest snare for you; for if he tempts some in theguise of sensual pleasure, or of dark fears and spiritual abandonment, it is said that to those he most thirsts to destroy he appears in thelikeness of their Saviour. You tell me it is to right the wrongs of thepoor and the humble that your new friends, the philosophers, haveassailed the authority of Christ. I have only one answer to make:Christ, as you said just now, died for the poor--how many of yourphilosophers would do as much? Because men hunger and thirst, is that asign that He has forsaken them? And since when have earthly privilegesbeen the token of His favour? May He not rather have designed that, bycontinual sufferings and privations, they shall lay up for themselvestreasures in Heaven such as your eyes and mine shall never see or ourears hear? And how dare you assume that any temporal advantages couldatone for that of which your teachings must deprive them--the heavenlyconsolations of the love of Christ?"

Odo listened with a sense of deepening discouragement. "But is itnecessary, " he urged, "to confound Christ with His ministers, the lawwith its exponents? May not men preserve their hope of heaven and yetlead more endurable lives on earth?"

"Ah, my child, beware, for this is the heresy of private judgment, whichhas already drawn down thousands into the pit. It is one of the mostinsidious errors in which the spirit of evil has ever masqueraded; forit is based on the fallacy that we, blind creatures of a day, andourselves in the meshes of sin, can penetrate the counsels of theEternal, and test the balances of the heavenly Justice. I tremble tothink into what an abyss your noblest impulses may fling you, if youabandon yourself to such illusions; and more especially if it pleasesGod to place in your hands a small measure of that authority of which Heis the supreme repository. --When I took leave of you here nine yearssince, " Don Gervaso continued in a gentler tone, "we prayed together inthe chapel; and I ask you, before setting out on your new life, toreturn there with me and lay your doubts and difficulties before Him whoalone is able to still the stormy waves of the soul. "

Odo, touched by the appeal, accompanied him to the chapel, and knelt onthe steps whence his young spirit had once soared upward on the heavenlypleadings of the Mass. The chapel was as carefully tended as ever; andamid the comely appointments of the altar shone forth that Presencewhich speaks to men of an act of love perpetually renewed. But to Odothe voice was mute, the divinity wrapped in darkness; and he rememberedreading in some Latin author that the ancient oracles had ceased tospeak when their questioners lost faith in them. He knew not whether hisown faith was lost; he felt only that it had put forth on a sea ofdifficulties across which he saw the light of no divine command. 

In this mood there was no more help to be obtained from Don Gervaso thanfrom the Marquess. Odo's last days at Donnaz were clouded by a sense ofthe deep estrangement between himself and that life of which the outwardaspect was so curiously unchanged. His past seemed to look at him withunrecognising eyes, to bar the door against his knock; and he rode awaysaddened by that sense of isolation which follows the first encounterwith a forgotten self. 

At Ivrea the sight of Cantapresto and the travelling-carriage roused himas from a waking dream. Here, at his beck were the genial realities oflife, embodied, humorously enough, in the bustling figure which for somany years had played a kind of comic accompaniment to his experiences. Cantapresto was in a fever of expectation. To set forth on the roadagain, after nine years of well-fed monotony, and under conditions sofavourable to his physical well-being, was to drink the wine of romancefrom a golden cup. Odo was at the age when the spirit lies as naturallyopen to the variations of mood as a lake to the shifting of the breeze;and Cantapresto's exuberant humour, and the novel details of theirtravelling equipment, had soon effaced the graver influences of Donnaz. Life stretched before him alluring and various as the open road; and hispulses danced to the tune of the postillion's whip as the carriagerattled out of the gates. 

It was a bright morning and the plain lay beneath them like a plantedgarden, in all the flourish and verdure of June; but the roads beingdeep in mire, and unrepaired after the ravages of the winter, it waspast noon before they reached the foot of the hills. Here matters werelittle better, for the highway was ploughed deep by the wheels of thenumberless vans and coaches journeying from one town to another duringthe Whitsun holidays, so that even a young gentleman travelling postmust resign himself to a plebeian rate of progression. Odo at first wastoo much pleased with the novelty of the scene to quarrel with anyincidental annoyances; but as the afternoon wore on the way began toseem long, and he was just giving utterance to his impatience whenCantapresto, putting his head out of the window, announced in a tone ofpious satisfaction that just ahead of them were a party of travellers infar worse case than themselves. Odo, leaning out, saw that, a dozenyards ahead, a modest chaise of antique pattern had in fact come togrief by the roadside. He called to his postillion to hurry forward, andthey were soon abreast of the wreck, about which several people weregrouped in anxious colloquy. Odo sprang out to offer his services; butas he alit he felt Cantapresto's hand on his sleeve. 

"Cavaliere, " the soprano whispered, "these are plainly people of nocondition, and we have yet a good seven miles to Vercelli, where all theinns will be crowded for the Whitsun fair. Believe me, it were better togo forward. "

Odo advanced without heeding this admonition; but a moment later he hadalmost regretted his action; for in the centre of the group about thechaise stood the two persons whom, of all the world, he was at thatmoment least wishful of meeting. 

2. 7. 

It was in fact Vivaldi who, putting aside the knot of idlers about thechaise, stepped forward at Odo's approach. The philosopher's countenancewas perturbed, his travelling-coat spattered with mud, and his daughter, hooded and veiled, clung to him with an air of apprehension that smoteOdo to the heart. He caught a blush of recognition beneath her veil; andas he drew near she raised a finger to her lip and faintly shook herhead. 

The mute signal reassured him. "I see, sir, " said he, turningcourteously to Vivaldi, "that you are in a bad plight, and I hope that Ior my carriage may be of service to you. " He ventured a second glance atFulvia, but she had turned aside and was inspecting the wheel of thechaise with an air of the most disheartening detachment. 

Vivaldi, who had returned Odo's greeting without any sign of ill-will, bowed slightly and seemed to hesitate a moment. "Our plight, as yousee, " he said, "is indeed a grave one; for the wheel has come off ourcarriage and my driver here tells me there is no smithy this sideVercelli, where it is imperative we should lie tonight. I hope, however, " he added, glancing down the road, "that with all the trafficnow coming and going we may soon be overtaken by some vehicle that willcarry us to our destination. "

He spoke calmly, but it was plain some pressing fear underlay hiscomposure, and the nature of the emergency was but too clear to Odo. 

"Will not my carriage serve you?" he hastily rejoined. "I am forVercelli, and if you will honour me with your company we can go forwardat once. "

Fulvia, during this exchange of words, had affected to be engaged withthe luggage, which lay in a heap beside the chaise; but at this pointshe lifted her head and shot a glance at her father from under her blacktravelling-hood. 

Vivaldi's constraint increased. "This, sir, " said he, "is a handsomeoffer, and one for which I thank you; but I fear our presence mayincommode you and the additional weight of our luggage perhaps delayyour progress. I have little fear but some van or waggon will overtakeus before nightfall; and should it chance otherwise, " he added with atouch of irresistible pedantry, "why, it behoves us to remember that weshall be none the worse off, since the sage is independent ofcircumstances. "

Odo could hardly repress a smile. "Such philosophy, sir, is admirable inprinciple, but in practice hardly applicable to a lady unused to passingher nights in a rice-field. The region about here is notoriouslyunhealthy and you will surely not expose your daughter to the risk ofremaining by the roadside or of finding a lodging in some peasant'shut. "

Vivaldi drew himself up. "My daughter, " said he, "has been trained toface graver emergencies with an equanimity I have no fear of putting tothe touch--'the calm of a mind blest in the consciousness of itsvirtue'; and were it not that circumstances are somewhat pressing--" hebroke off and glanced at Cantapresto, who was fidgeting about Odo'scarriage or talking in undertones with the driver of the chaise. 

"Come, sir, " said Odo urgently, "Let my servants put your luggage up andwe'll continue this argument on the road. "

Vivaldi again paused. "Sir, " he said at length, "will you first stepaside with me a moment?" he led Odo a few paces down the road. "I makeno pretence, " he went on when they were out of Cantapresto's hearing, "of concealing from you that this offer comes very opportune to ourneeds, for it is urgent we should be out of Piedmont by tomorrow. Butbefore accepting a seat in your carriage, I must tell you that you offerit to a proscribed man; since I have little reason to doubt that by thistime the sbirri are on my track. "

It was impossible to guess from Vivaldi's manner whether he suspectedOdo of being the cause of his misadventure; and the young man, thoughflushing to the forehead, took refuge in the thought of Fulvia's signaland maintained a self-possessed silence. 

"The motive of my persecution, " Vivaldi continued, "I need hardlyexplain to one acquainted with my house and with the aims and opinionsof those who frequent it. We live, alas, in an age when it is a moraloffence to seek enlightenment, a political crime to share it withothers. I have long foreseen that any attempt to raise the condition ofmy countrymen must end in imprisonment or flight; and though perhaps tohave suffered the former had been a more impressive vindication of myviews, why, sir, the father at the last moment overruled thephilosopher, and thinking of my poor girl there, who but for me standsalone in the world, I resolved to take refuge in a state where a man maywork for the liberty of others without endangering his own. "

Odo had listened with rising eagerness. Was not here an opportunity, ifnot to atone, at least to give practical evidence of his contrition?

"What you tell me sir, " he exclaimed, "cannot but increase my zeal toserve you. Here is no time to palter. I am on my way to Lombardy, which, from what you say, I take to be your destination also; and if you andyour daughter will give me your company across the border I think youneed fear no farther annoyance from the police, since my passports, asthe Duke of Pianura's cousin, cover any friends I choose to take in mycompany. "

"Why, sir, " said Vivaldi, visibly moved by the readiness of theresponse, "here is a generosity so far in excess of our present needsthat it encourages me to accept the smaller favour of travelling withyou to Vercelli. There we have friends with whom we shall be safe forthe night, and soon after sunrise I hope we may be across the border. "

Odo at once followed up his advantage by pointing out that it was on theborder that difficulties were most likely to arise; but after a fewmoments of debate Vivaldi declared he must first take counsel with hisdaughter, who still hung like a mute interrogation on the outskirts oftheir talk. 

After a few words with her, he returned to Odo. "My daughter, " said he, "whose good sense puts my wisdom to the blush, wishes me first toenquire if you purpose returning to Turin; since in that case, as shepoints out, your kindness might result in annoyances to which we have noright to expose you. "

Odo coloured. "Such considerations, I beg your daughter to believe, would not weigh with me an instant; but as I am leaving Piedmont for twoyears I am not so happy as to risk anything by serving you. "

Vivaldi on this assurance at once consented to accept a seat in hiscarriage as far as Boffalora, the first village beyond the Sardinianfrontier. It was agreed that at Vercelli Odo was to set down hiscompanions at an inn whence, alone and privately, they might gain theirfriend's house; that on the morrow at daybreak he was to take them up ata point near the convent of the Umiliati, and that thence they were topush forward without a halt for Boffalora. 

This agreement reached, Odo was about to offer Fulvia a hand to thecarriage when an unwelcome thought arrested him. 

"I hope, sir, " said he, again turning to Vivaldi, and blushing furiouslyas he spoke, "that you feel assured of my discretion; but I oughtperhaps to warn you that my companion yonder, though the good-naturedestfellow alive, is not one to live long on good terms with a secret, whether his own or another's. "

"I am obliged to you, " said Vivaldi, "for the hint; but my daughter andI are like those messengers who, in time of war, learn to carry theirdespatches beneath their tongues. You may trust us not to betrayourselves; and your friend may, if he chooses, suppose me to betravelling to Milan to act as governor to a young gentleman of quality. "

The Professor's luggage had by this been put on Odo's carriage, and thelatter advanced to Fulvia. He had drawn a favourable inference from theconcern she had shown for his welfare; but to his mortification shemerely laid two reluctant finger tips in his hand and took her seatwithout a word of thanks or so much as a glance at her rescuer. Thisunmerited repulse, and the constraint occasioned by Cantapresto'spresence, made the remainder of the drive interminable. Even theProfessor's apposite reflections on rice-growing and the culture of themulberry did little to shorten the way; and when at length thebell-towers of Vercelli rose in sight Odo felt the relief of a man whohas acquitted himself of a tedious duty. He had looked forward with themost romantic anticipations to the outcome of this chance encounter withFulvia; but the unforgiving humour which had lent her a transitory charmnow became as disfiguring as some physical defect; and his heart swelledwith the defiance of youthful disappointment. 

It was near the angelus when they entered the city. Just within thegates Odo set down his companions, who took leave of him, the one withthe heartiest expressions of gratitude, the other with a hurriedinclination of her veiled head. Thence he drove on to the Three Crowns, where he designed to lie. The streets were still crowded withholiday-makers and decked out with festal hangings. Tapestries andsilken draperies adorned the balconies of the houses, innumerable tinylamps framed the doors and windows, and the street-shrines were dressedwith a profusion of flowers; while every square and open space in thecity was crowded with booths, with the tents of ambulant comedians anddentists, and with the outspread carpets of snake-charmers, posture-makers and jugglers. Among this mob of quacks and pedlarscirculated other fantastic figures, the camp-followers of the army ofhucksters: dwarfs and cripples, mendicant friars, gypsy fortune-tellers, and the itinerant reciters of Ariosto and Tasso. With these mingled thetowns-people in holiday dress, the well-to-do farmers and their wives, and a throng of nondescript idlers, ranging from the servants of thenobility pushing their way insolently through the crowd, to thosesinister vagabonds who lurk, as it were, in the interstices of everyconcourse of people. 

It was not long before the noise and animation about him had dispelledOdo's ill-humour. The world was too fair to be darkened by a girl'sdisdain, and a reaction of feeling putting him in tune with the humoursof the market-place, he at once set forth on foot to view the city. Itwas now near sunset and the day's decline irradiated the stately frontof the Cathedral, the walls of the ancient Hospital that faced it, andthe groups gathered about the stalls and platforms obstructing thesquare. Even in his travelling-dress Odo was not a figure to passunnoticed, and he was soon assailed by laughing compliments on his looksand invitations to visit the various shows concealed behind the flappingcurtains of the tents. There were enough pretty faces in the crowd tojustify such familiarities, and even so modest a success was not withoutsolace to his vanity. He lingered for some time in the square, answeringthe banter of the blooming market-women, inspecting thefiligree-ornaments from Genoa, and watching a little yellow bitch in ahooped petticoat and lappets dance the furlana to the music of anarmless fiddler who held the bow in his teeth. As he turned from thisshow Odo's eye was caught by a handsome girl who, on the arm of adashing cavalier in somewhat shabby velvet, was cheapening a pair ofgloves at a neighbouring stall. The girl, who was masked, shot a darkglance at Odo from under her three-cornered Venetian hat; then, tossingdown a coin, she gathered up the gloves and drew her companion away. Themanoeuvre was almost a challenge, and Odo was about to take it up when apretty boy in a Scaramouch habit, waylaying him with various gracefulantics, thrust a play-bill in his hand; and on looking round he foundthe girl and her gallant had disappeared. The play-bill, with a wealthof theatrical rhetoric, invited Odo to attend the Performance to begiven that evening at the Philodramatic Academy by the celebrated CapoComico Tartaglia of Rimini and his world-renowned company of Comedians, who, in the presence of the aristocracy of Vercelli, were to present anew comedy entitled "Le Gelosie di Milord Zambo, " with an Intermezzo ofsinging and dancing by the best Performers of their kind. 

Dusk was already falling, and Odo, who had brought no letters to thegentry of Vercelli, where he intended to stay but a night, began towonder how he should employ his evening. He had hoped to spend it inVivaldi's company, but the Professor not having invited him, he saw noprospect but to return to the inn and sup alone with Cantapresto. In thedoorway of the Three Crowns he found the soprano awaiting him. Cantapresto, who had been as mute as a fish during the afternoon'sdrive, now bustled forward with a great show of eagerness. 

"What poet was it, " he cried, "that paragoned youth to the Eastersunshine, which, wherever it touches, causes a flower to spring up? Herewe are scarce alit in a strange city, and already a messenger finds theway to our inn with a most particular word from his lady to theCavaliere Odo Valsecca. " And he held out a perfumed billet sealed with aflaming dart. 

Odo's heart gave a leap at the thought that the letter might be fromFulvia; but on breaking the seal he read these words, scrawled in anunformed hand:--

"Will the Cavaliere Valsecca accept from an old friend, who desires torenew her acquaintance with him, the trifling gift of a side-box at DonTartaglia's entertainment this evening?"

Vexed at his credulity, Odo tossed the invitation to Cantapresto; but amoment later, recalling the glance of the pretty girl in themarket-place, he began to wonder if the billet might not be the preludeto a sufficiently diverting adventure. It at least offered a way ofpassing the evening; and after a hurried supper he set out withCantapresto for the Philodramatic Academy. It was late when they enteredtheir box, and several masks were already capering before thefootlights, exchanging lazzi with the townsfolk in the pit, andaddressing burlesque compliments to the quality in the boxes. Thetheatre seemed small and shabby after those of Turin, and there waslittle in the old-fashioned fopperies of a provincial audience tointerest a young gentleman fresh from the capital. Odo looked about forany one resembling the masked beauty of the market-place; but he beheldonly ill-dressed dowagers and matrons, or ladies of the town moreconspicuous for their effrontery than for their charms. 

The main diversion of the evening was by this begun. It was a comedy inthe style of Goldoni's early pieces, representing the actual life of theday, but interspersed with the antics of the masks, to whose improviseddrolleries the people still clung. A terrific Don Spavento in cloak andsword played the jealous English nobleman, Milord Zambo, and the part ofTartaglia was taken by the manager, one of the best-known interpretersof the character in Italy. Tartaglia was the guardian of the primaamorosa, whom the enamoured Briton pursued; and in the Columbine, whenshe sprang upon the stage with a pirouette that showed her slenderankles and embroidered clocks, Odo instantly recognised the gracefulfigure and killing glance of his masked beauty. Her face, which was nowuncovered, more than fulfilled the promise of her eyes, being indeed asarch and engaging a countenance as ever flashed distraction across thefoot-lights. She was greeted with an outburst of delight that cost her asour glance from the prima amorosa, and presently the theatre wasringing with her improvised sallies, uttered in the gay staccato of theVenetian dialect. There was to Odo something perplexingly familiar inthis accent and in the light darting movements of her little head framedin a Columbine's ruff, with a red rose thrust behind one ear; but aftera rapid glance about the house she appeared to take no notice of him andhe began to think it must be to some one else he owed his invitation. 

From this question he was soon diverted by his increasing enjoyment ofthe play. It was not indeed a remarkable example of its kind, beingcrudely enough put together, and turning on a series of ridiculous anddisconnected incidents; but to a taste formed on the frigid eleganciesof Metastasio and the French stage there was something refreshing inthis plunge into the coarse homely atmosphere of the old populartheatre. Extemporaneous comedies were no longer played in the greatcities, and Odo listened with surprise to the swift thrust and parry, the inexhaustible flow of jest and repartee, the readiness with whichthe comedians caught up each other's leads, like dancers whirlingwithout a false step through the mazes of some rapid contradance. 

So engaged was he that he no longer observed the Columbine save as afigure in this flying reel; but presently a burst of laughter fixed hisattention and he saw that she was darting across the stage pursued byMilord Zambo, who, furious at the coquetries of his betrothed, wasavenging himself by his attentions to the Columbine. Half way across, her foot caught and she fell on one knee. Zambo rushed to the rescue;but springing up instantly, and feigning to treat his advance as a partof the play, she cried out with a delicious assumption of outrageddignity:--

"Not a step farther, villain! Know that it is sacrilege for a commonmortal to embrace one who has been kissed by his most illustriousHighness the Heir-presumptive of Pianura!"

"Mirandolina of Chioggia!" sprang to Odo's lips. At the same instant theColumbine turned about and swept him a deep curtsey, to the delight ofthe audience, who had no notion of what was going forward, but were inthe humour to clap any whim of their favourite's; then she turned anddarted off the stage, and the curtain fell on a tumult of applause. 

Odo had hardly recovered from his confusion when the door of the boxopened and the young Scaramouch he had seen in the market-place peepedin and beckoned to Cantapresto. The soprano rose with alacrity, leavingOdo alone in the dimly-lit box, his mind agrope in a labyrinth ofmemories. A moment later Cantapresto returned with that air of furtiverelish that always proclaimed him the bearer of a tender message. Theone he now brought was to the effect that the Signorina MirandaMalmocco, justly renowned as one of the first Columbines of Italy, hadcharged him to lay at the Cavaliere Valsecca's feet her excuses for theliberty she had taken with his illustrious name, and to entreat that hewould show his magnanimity by supping with her after the play in herroom at the Three Crowns--a request she was emboldened to make by thefact that she was lately from Pianura, and could give him the last newsof the court. 

The message chimed with Odo's mood, and the play over he hastened backto the inn with Cantapresto, and bid the landlord send to the SignorinaMiranda's room whatever delicacies the town could provide. Odo onarriving that afternoon had himself given orders that his carriageshould be at the door the next morning an hour before sunrise; and henow repeated these instructions to Cantapresto, charging him on his lifeto see that nothing interfered with their fulfilment. The sopranoobjected that the hour was already late, and that they could easilyperform the day's journey without curtailing their rest; but on Odo'sreiteration of the order he resigned himself, with the remark that itwas a pity old age had no savings-bank for the sleep that youthsquandered. 

2. 8. 

It was something of a disappointment to Odo, on entering the SignorinaMiranda's room, to find that she was not alone. Engaged in feeding herpet monkey with sugar-plums was the young man who had given her his armin the Piazza. This gentleman, whom she introduced to Odo as her cousinand travelling companion, the Count of Castelrovinato, had the same airof tarnished elegance as his richly-laced coat and discoloured ruffles. He seemed, however, of a lively and obliging humour, and Mirandolinaobserved with a smile that she could give no better notion of hisamiability than by mentioning that he was known among her friends as theCavaliere Frattanto. This praise, Odo thought, seemed scarcely to thecousin's liking; but he carried it off with the philosophic remark thatit is the mortar between the bricks that holds the building together. 

"At present, " said Mirandolina laughing, "he is engaged in propping up aruin; for he has fallen desperately in love with our prima amorosa, alady who lost her virtue under the Pharaohs, but whom, for his sake, Ihave been obliged to include in our little supper. "

This, it was clear, was merely a way of palliating the Count'sinfatuation for herself; but he took the second thrust as good-naturedlyas the first, remarking that he had been bred for an archeologist andhad never lost his taste for the antique. 

Odo's servants now appearing with a pasty of beccafichi, some bottles ofold Malaga and a tray of ices and fruits, the three seated themselves atthe table, which Mirandolina had decorated with a number of wax candlesstuck in the cut-glass bottles of the Count's dressing-case. Here theywere speedily joined by the actress's monkey and parrot, who had soonspread devastation among the dishes. While Miranda was restoring orderby boxing the monkey's ears and feeding the shrieking bird from herlips, the door opened to admit the prima amorosa, a lady whose maturecharms and mellifluous manner suggested a fine fruit preserved in syrup. The newcomer was clearly engrossed in captivating the Count, and thelatter amply justified his nick-name by the cynical complaisance withwhich he cleared the way for Odo by responding to her advances. 

The tete-a-tete thus established, Miranda at once began to excuseherself for the means she had taken to attract Odo's attention at thetheatre. She had heard from the innkeeper that the Duke of Pianura'scousin, the Cavaliere Valsecca, was expected that day in Vercelli; andseeing in the Piazza a young gentleman in travelling-dress and Frenchtoupet, had at once guessed him to be the distinguished stranger fromTurin. At the theatre she had been much amused by the air ofapprehension with which Odo had appeared to seek, among the dowdy orvulgar inmates of the boxes, the sender of the mysterious billet; andthe contrast between the elegant gentleman in embroidered coat andgold-hilted sword, and the sleepy bewildered little boy of the midnightfeast at Chivasso, had seized her with such comic effect that she couldnot resist a playful allusion to their former meeting. All this was setforth with so sprightly an air of mock-contrition that, had Odo felt theleast resentment, it must instantly have vanished. He was, however, inthe humour to be pleased by whatever took his mind off his own affairs, and none could be more skilled than Mirandolina in profiting by such amood. 

He pressed her to tell him something of what had befallen her since theyhad met, but she replied by questioning him about his own experiences, and on learning that he had been called to Pianura on account of theheir's ill-health she declared it was notorious that the little princehad not long to live, and that the Duke could not hope for another son. 

"The Duke's life, however, " said Odo, "is as good as mine, and in truthI am far less moved by my remote hopes of the succession than by thenear prospect of visiting so many famous cities and seeing so much thatis novel and entertaining. "

Miranda shrugged her pretty shoulders. "Why, as to the Duke's life, "said she, "there are some that would not give a counterfeit penny forit; but indeed his Highness lives so secluded from the world, and issurrounded by persons so jealous to conceal his true condition even fromthe court, that the reports of his health are no more to be trusted thanthe other strange rumours about him. I was told in Pianura that but fourpersons are admitted to his familiarity: his confessor, his mistress, Count Trescorre, who is already comptroller of finance and will soon beprime-minister, and a strange German doctor or astrologer that is latelycome to the court. As to the Duchess, she never sees him; and were itnot for Trescorre, who has had the wit to stand well with both sides, Idoubt if she would know more of what goes on about her husband than anyscullion in the ducal kitchens. "

She spoke with the air of one well-acquainted with the subject, and Odo, curious to learn more, asked her how she came to have such an insightinto the intrigues of the court. 

"Why, " said she, "in the oddest way imaginable--by being the guest ofhis lordship the Bishop of Pianura; and since you asked me just now totell you something of my adventures, I will, if you please, begin byrelating the occurrences that procured me this extraordinary honour. Butfirst, " she added with a smile, "would it not be well to open anotherbottle of Malaga?"

MIRANDOLINA'S STORY. 

You must know, she continued, when Odo had complied with her request, that soon after our parting at Chivasso the company with which I wastravelling came to grief through the dishonesty of the Harlequin, whoran away with the Capo Comico's wife, carrying with him, besides thelady, the far more irretrievable treasure of our modest earnings. Thisbrought us to destitution, and the troop was disbanded. I had nothingbut the spangled frock on my back, and thinking to make some use of mysole possession I set out as a dancer with the flute-player of thecompany, a good-natured fellow that had a performing marmozet from theIndies. We three wandered from one town to another, spreading our carpetwherever there was a fair or a cattle-market, going hungry in badseasons, and in our luckier days attaching ourselves to some band ofstrolling posture-makers or comedians. 

One day, after about a year of this life, I had the good fortune, in themarket-place of Parma, to attract the notice of a rich English noblemanwho was engaged in writing a book on the dances of the ancients. Thisgentleman, though no longer young, and afflicted with that strangeEnglish malady that obliges a man to wrap his feet in swaddling-clotheslike a new-born infant, was of a generous and paternal disposition, andoffered, if I would accompany him to Florence, to give me a home and agenteel education. I remained with him about two years, during whichtime he had me carefully instructed in music, French and the art of theneedle. In return for this, my principal duties were to perform inantique dances before the friends of my benefactor--whose name I couldnever learn to pronounce--and to read aloud to him the works of themodern historians and philosophers. 

We lived in a large palace with exceedingly high-ceilinged rooms, whichmy friend would never have warmed on account of his plethoric habit, andas I had to dance at all seasons in the light draperies worn by theclassical goddesses, I suffered terribly from chilblains and contracteda cruel cough. To this, however, I might have resigned myself; but whenI learned from a young abate who frequented the house that the books Iwas compelled to read were condemned by the Church, and could not beperused without deadly peril to the soul, I at once resolved to fly fromsuch contaminating influences. Knowing that his lordship would notconsent to my leaving him, I took the matter out of his hands byslipping out one day during the carnival, carrying with me from thataccursed house nothing but the few jewels that my benefactor hadexpressed the intention of leaving me in his will. At the nearest churchI confessed my involuntary sin in reading the prohibited books, andhaving received absolution and the sacrament, I joined my friend theabate at Cafaggiolo, whence we travelled to Modena, where he wasacquainted with a theatrical manager just then in search of a Columbine. My dancing and posturing at Florence had given me something of a nameamong the dilettanti, and I was at once engaged by the manager, who tookme to Venice, where I subsequently joined the company of the excellentTartaglia with whom I am now acting. Since then I have been attended bycontinued success, which I cannot but ascribe to my virtuous resolve toface poverty and distress rather than profit a moment longer by thebeneficence of an atheist. 

All this I have related to show you how the poor ignorant girl you metat Chivasso was able to acquire something of the arts and usages of goodcompany; but I will now pass on to the incident of my visit to Pianura. Our manager, then, had engaged some time since to give a series ofperformances at Pianura during the last carnival. The Bishop's nephew, Don Serafino, who has a pronounced taste for the theatre, had beeninstrumental in making the arrangement; but at the last moment he wroteus that, owing to the influence of the Duke's confessor, the Bishop hadbeen obliged to prohibit the appearance of women on the stage ofPianura. This was a cruel blow, as we had prepared a number of comediesin which I was to act the leading part; and Don Serafino was equallyvexed, since he did me the honour of regarding me as the chief ornamentof the company. At length it was agreed that, to overcome thedifficulty, it should be given out that the celebrated Tartaglia ofRimini would present himself at Pianura with his company of comedians, among whom was the popular favourite, Mirandolino of Chioggia, twinbrother of the Signorina Miranda Malmocco, and trained by that actressto play in all her principal parts. 

This satisfied the scruples and interests of all concerned, and soonafterward I made my first appearance in Pianura. My success was greaterthan we had foreseen; for I threw myself into the part with such zestthat every one was taken in, and even Don Serafino required the mostcategorical demonstration to convince him that I was not my own brother. The illusion I produced was, however, not without its inconveniences;for, among the ladies who thronged to see the young Mirandolino, wereseveral who desired a closer acquaintance with him; and one of these, asit happened, was the Duke's mistress, the Countess Belverde. You willsee the embarrassment of my situation. If I failed to respond to heradvances, her influence was sufficient to drive us from the town at theopening of a prosperous season; if I discovered my sex to her, she mightmore cruelly avenge herself by throwing the whole company into prison, to be dealt with by the Holy Office. Under these circumstances, Idecided to appeal to the Bishop, but without, of course, revealing tohim that I was, so to speak, my own sister. His lordship, who is neversorry to do the Belverde a bad turn, received me with the utmostindulgence, and declared that, to protect my innocence from the designsof this new Potiphar's wife, he would not only give me a lodging in theEpiscopal palace, but confer on me the additional protection of theminor orders. This was rather more than I had bargained for, but he thatwants the melon is a fool to refuse the rind, and I thanked the Bishopfor his kindness and allowed him to give out that, my heart having beentouched by grace, I had resolved, at the end of the season, to withdrawfrom the stage and prepare to enter the Church. 

I now fancied myself safe; for I knew the Countess could not attempt myremoval without risk of having her passion denounced to the Duke. Ispent several days very agreeably in the Episcopal palace, entertainedat his lordship's own table, and favoured with private conversationsduring which he told me many curious and interesting things about theDuke and the court, and delicately abstained from all allusion to mycoming change of vocation. The Countess, however, had not been idle. Oneday I received notice that the Holy Office disapproved of the appearanceon the stage of a young man about to enter the Church, and requested meto withdraw at once to the Barnabite monastery, where I was to remaintill I received the minor orders. Now the Abbot of the Barnabites wasthe Belverde's brother, and I saw at once that to obey his order wouldplace me in that lady's power. I again addressed myself to the Bishop, but to my despair he declared himself unable to aid me farther, sayingthat he dared not offend the Holy Office, and that he had already runconsiderable risk in protecting me from the Countess. 

I was accordingly transferred to the monastery, in spite of my ownentreaties and those of the good Tartaglia, who moved heaven and earthto save his Columbine from sequestration. You may imagine my despair. Myfear of doing Tartaglia an injury kept me from revealing my sex, and fortwenty-four hours I languished in my cell, refusing food and air, andresisting the repeated attempts of the good monks to alleviate mydistress. At length however I bethought me that the Countess would soonappear; and it flashed across me that the one person who could protectme from her was her brother. I at once sought an interview with theAbbot, who received me with great indulgence. I explained to him thatthe distress I suffered was occasioned by the loss that my sequestrationwas causing my excellent manager, and begged him to use his influence tohave me released from the monastery. The Abbot listened attentively, andafter a pause replied that there was but one person who could arrangethe matter, and that was his sister the Countess Belverde, whosewell-known piety gave her considerable influence in such matters. I nowsaw that no alternative remained but to confess the truth; and withtears of agitation I avowed my sex, and threw myself on his mercy. 

I was not disappointed in the result. The Abbot listened with thegreatest benevolence to all the details of my adventure. He laughedheartily at his sister's delusion, but said I had done right in notundeceiving her, as her dread of ridicule might have led to unpleasantreprisals. He declared that for the present he could not on any accountconsent to let me out of his protection; but he promised if I submittedmyself implicitly to his guidance, not only to preserve me from theBelverde's machinations, but to ensure my reappearing on the stagewithin two days at the latest. Knowing him to be a very powerfulpersonage I thought it best to accept these conditions, which in anycase it would have been difficult to resist; and the next day heinformed me that the Holy Office had consented to the Signorina MirandaMalmocco's appearing on the stage of Pianura during the remainder of theseason, in consideration of the financial injury caused to the managerof the company by the edifying conversion of her twin-brother. 

"In this way, " the Abbot was pleased to explain, "you will be quite safefrom my sister, who is a woman of the most unexceptionable morals, andat the same time you will not expose our excellent Bishop to the chargeof having been a party to a grave infraction of ecclesiasticaldiscipline. --My only condition, " he added with a truly paternal smile, "is that, after the Signorina Miranda's performance at the theatre hertwin-brother the Signor Mirandolino shall return every evening to themonastery: a condition which seems necessary to the preservation of oursecret, and which I trust you will not regard as too onerous, in view ofthe service I have been happy enough to render you. "

It would have ill become me to dispute the excellent ecclesiastic'swishes, and Tartaglia and the rest of the company having been sworn tosecrecy, I reappeared that very evening in one of my favourite parts, and was afterward carried back to the monastery in the most privatemanner. The Signorina Malmocco's successes soon repaired the lossoccasioned by her brother's withdrawal, and if any suspected theiridentity all were interested to conceal their suspicions. 

Thus it came about that my visit to Pianura, having begun under the roofof a Bishop, ended in a monastery of Barnabites--nor have I any cause tocomplain of the hospitality of either of my hosts... 

 * * * * *

Odo, charmed by the vivacity with which this artless narrative wasrelated, pressed Miranda to continue the history of her adventures. Theactress laughingly protested that she must first refresh herself withone of the ices he had so handsomely provided; and meanwhile she beggedthe Count to favour them with a song. 

This gentleman, who seemed glad of any pretext for detaching himselffrom his elderly flame, rescued Mirandolina's lute from the inquisitivefingering of the monkey, and striking a few melancholy chords, sang thefollowing words, which he said he had learned from a peasant of theAbruzzi:--

 Flower of the thyme! She draws me as your fragrance draws the bees, She draws me as the cold moon draws the seas, And summer winter-time. 

 Flower of the broom! Like you she blossoms over dark abysses, And close to ruin bloom her sweetest kisses, And on the brink of doom. 

 Flower of the rue! She wore you on her breast when first we met. I begged your blossom and I wear it yet-- Flower of regret!

The song ended, the prima amorosa, overcome by what she visibly deemedan appeal to her feelings, declared with some agitation that the hourwas late and she must withdraw. Miranda wished the actress anaffectionate goodnight and asked the Count to light her to her room, which was on the farther side of the gallery surrounding the courtyardof the inn. Castelrovinato complied with his usual air of resignation, and the door closing on the couple, Odo and Miranda found themselvesalone. 

"And now, " said the good-natured girl, placing herself on the sofa andturning to her guest with a smile, "if you will take a seat at my side Iwill gladly continue the history of my adventures"... 

2. 9. 

Odo woke with a start. He had been trying to break down a greatgold-barred gate, behind which Fulvia, pale and disordered, struggled inthe clutch of the blind beggar of the Corpus Domini... 

He sat up and looked about him. The gate was still there; but as hegazed it resolved itself into his shuttered window, barred with widelines of sunlight. It was day, then! He sprang out of bed and flung openthe shutters. Beneath him lay the piazza of Vercelli, bathed in thevertical brightness of a summer noon; and as he stared out on thisinexorable scene, the clock over the Hospital struck twelve. 

Twelve o'clock! And he had promised to meet Vivaldi at dawn behind theUmiliati! As the truth forced itself on Odo he dropped into a chair andhid his face with a groan. He had failed them again, then--and this timehow cruelly and basely! He felt himself the victim of a conspiracy whichin some occult manner was forever forcing him to outrage and betray thetwo beings he most longed to serve. The idea of a conspiracy flashed asudden light on his evening's diversion, and he sprang up with a cry. Yes! It was a plot, and any but a dolt must have traced the soprano'shand in this vulgar assault upon his senses. He choked with anger at thethought of having played the dupe when two lives he cherished werestaked upon his vigilance... 

To his furious summons Cantapresto presented a blank wall of ignorance. Yes, the Cavaliere had given orders that the carriage should be readybefore daybreak; but who was authorised to wake the cavaliere? Afterkeeping the carriage two hours at the door Cantapresto had ventured tosend it back to the stable; but the horses should instantly be put to, and within an hour they would be well forward on their journey. Meanwhile, should the barber be summoned at once? Or would the cavalierefirst refresh himself with an excellent cup of chocolate, prepared underCantapresto's own supervision?

Odo turned on him savagely. "Traitor--spy! In whose pay--?"

But the words roused him to a fresh sense of peril. Cantapresto, thoughhe might have guessed Odo's intention, was not privy to his plan ofrejoining Vivaldi and Fulvia; and it flashed across the young man thathis self-betrayal must confirm the others' suspicions. His one hope ofprotecting his friends was to affect indifference to what had happened;and this was made easier, by the reflection that Cantapresto was afterall but a tool in more powerful hands. To be spied on was so natural toan Italian of that day that the victim's instinct was rather tocircumvent the spy than to denounce him. 

Odo dismissed Cantapresto with the reply that he would give orders aboutthe carriage later; desiring that meanwhile the soprano should purchasethe handsomest set of filigree ornaments to be found in Vercelli, andcarry them with the Cavaliere Valsecca's compliments to the SignorinaMalmocco. 

Having thus rid himself of observation he dressed as rapidly aspossible, trying the while to devise some means of tracing Vivaldi. Butthe longer he pondered the attempt the more plainly he saw its futility. Vivaldi, doubtless from motives of prudence, had not named the friendwith whom he and Fulvia were to take shelter; nor did Odo even know inwhat quarter of the city to seek them. To question the police was torisk their last chance of safety; and for the same reason he dared notenquire of the posting-master whether any travellers had set out thatmorning for Lombardy. His natural activity of mind was hampered by aleaden sense of remissness. With what anguish of spirit must Vivaldi andFulvia have awaited him in that hour of dawn behind the convent! Whatthoughts must have visited the girl's mind as day broadened, the citywoke, and peril pressed on them with every voice and eye! And when atlength they saw that he had failed them, which way did their huntedfootsteps turn? Perhaps they dared not go back to the friend who hadtaken them in for the night. Perhaps even now they wandered through thestreets, fearing arrest if they revealed themselves by venturing toengage a carriage, at every turn of his thoughts Odo was mocked by somevision of disaster; and an hour of perplexity yielded no happierexpedient than that of repairing to the meeting-place behind theUmiliati. It was a deserted lane with few passers; and after vainlyquestioning the blank wall of the convent and the gates of asinister-looking alms-house that faced it, he retraced his steps to theinn. 

He spent a day of futile research and bitter thoughts, now strayingforth in the hope of meeting Vivaldi, now hastening back to the ThreeCrowns on the chance that some message might await him. He dared not lethis mind rest on what might have befallen his friends; yet thealternative of contemplating his own course was scarcely more endurable. Nightfall brought the conviction that the Professor and Fulvia hadpassed beyond his reach. It was clear that if they were still inVercelli they did not mean to make their presence known to him, while inthe event of their escape he was without means of tracing them farther. He knew indeed that their destination was Milan, but, should they reachthere safely, what hope was there of finding them in a city ofstrangers? By a stroke of folly he had cut himself off from allcommunication with them, and his misery was enhanced by the discovery ofhis weakness. He who had fed his fancy on high visions, cherishing inhimself the latent patriot and hero, had been driven by a girl's capriceto break the first law of manliness and honour! The event had alreadyjustified her; and in a flash of self-contempt he saw himself as she nodoubt beheld him--the fribble preying like a summer insect on the slowgrowths of difficult years... 

In bitterness of spirit he set out the next morning for Pianura. Ahalf-melancholy interest drew him back to the scene of his lonelychildhood, and he had started early in order to push on that night toPontesordo. At Valsecca, the regular posting-station between Vercelliand Pianura, he sent Cantapresto forward to the capital, and in a stormyyellow twilight drove alone across the waste land that dipped to themarshes. On his right the woods of the ducal chase hung black againstthe sky; and presently he saw ahead of him the old square keep, with aflight of swallows circling low about its walls. 

In the muddy farm-yard a young man was belabouring a donkey laden withmulberry-shoots. He stared for a moment at Odo's approach and thensullenly returned to his task. 

Odo sprang out into the mud. "Why do you beat the brute?" said heindignantly. The other turned a dull face on him and he recognised hisold enemy Giannozzo. 

"Giannozzo, " he cried, "don't you know me? I am the Cavaliere Valsecca, whose ears you used to box when you were a lad. Must you always bepummelling something, that you can't let that poor brute alone at theend of its day's work?"

Giannozzo, dropping his staff, stammered out that he craved hisexcellency's pardon for not knowing him, but that as for the ass it wasa stubborn devil that would not have carried Jesus Christ withoutgibbing. 

"The beast is tired and hungry, " cried Odo, his old compassion for thesufferings of the farm-animals suddenly reviving. "How many hours haveyou worked it without rest or food?"

"No more than I have worked myself, " said Giannozzo sulkily; "and as forits being hungry, why should it fare better than its masters?"

Their words had called out of the house a lean bent woman, whoseshrivelled skin showed through the rents in her unbleached shift. Atsight of Odo she pushed Giannozzo aside and hurried forward to ask howshe might serve the gentleman. 

"With supper and a bed, my good Filomena, " said Odo; and she flungherself at his feet with a cry. 

"Saints of heaven, that I should not have known his excellency! But I amhalf blind with the fever, and who could have dreamed of such anhonour?" She clung to his knees in the mud, kissing his hands andcalling down blessings on him. "And as for you, Giannozzo, youcurd-faced fool, quick, see that his excellency's horses are stabled andgo call your father from the cow-house while I prepare his excellency'ssupper. And fetch me in a faggot to light the fire in the bailiff'sparlour. "

Odo followed her into the kitchen, where he had so often crouched in acorner to eat his polenta out of reach of her vigorous arm. The roofseemed lower and more smoke-blackened than ever, but the hearth wascold, and he noticed that no supper was laid. Filomena led him into thebailiff's parlour, where a mortal chill seized him. Cobwebs hung fromthe walls, the window-panes were broken and caked with grime, and thefew green twigs which Giannozzo presently threw on the hearth poured acloud of smoke into the cold heavy air. 

There was a long delay while supper was preparing, and when at lengthFilomena appeared, it was only to produce, with many excuses, a loaf ofvetch-bread, a bit of cheese and some dried quinces. There was nothingelse in the house, she declared: not so much as a bit of lard to makesoup with, a handful of pasti or a flask of wine. In the old days, ashis excellency might remember, they had eaten a bit of meat on Sundays, and drunk aquarolle with their supper; but since the new taxes it was asmuch as the farmers could do to feed their cattle, without having ascrap to spare for themselves. Jacopone, she continued, was bent doublewith the rheumatism, and had not been able to drive a plough or to workin the mulberries for over two years. He and the farm-lads sat in thecow-stables when their work was over, for the sake of the heat, and shecarried their black bread out there to them: a cold supper tasted betterin a warm place, and as his excellency knew, all the windows in thehouse were unglazed save in the bailiff's parlour. Her man would be inpresently to pay his duty to his excellency; but he had growndull-witted since the rheumatism took him, and his excellency must nottake it ill if his talk was a little childish. 

Thereupon Filomena excused herself, that she might put a clean shirt onJacopone, and Odo was left to his melancholy musings. His mind had oflate run much on economic abuses; but what was any philandering withreform to this close contact with misery? It was as though white hungryfaces had suddenly stared in at the windows of his brightly-lit life. What did these people care for education, enlightenment, the religion ofhumanity? What they wanted was fodder for their cattle, a bit of meat onSundays and a faggot on the hearth. 

Filomena presently returned with her husband; but Jacopone had shrunkinto a crippled tremulous old man, who pulled a vague forelock at Odowithout sign of recognition. Filomena, it was clear, was master atPontesordo; for though Giannozzo was a man grown, and did a man's work, he still danced to the tune of his mother's tongue. It was from her thatOdo, shivering over the smoky hearth, gathered the details of theirwretched state. Pontesordo being a part of the ducal domain, they hadled in their old days an easier life than their neighbours; but the newtaxes had stripped them as bare as a mulberry-tree in June. 

"How is a Christian to live, excellency, with the salt-tax doubled, sothat the cows go dry for want of it; with half a zecchin on every pairof oxen, a stajo of wheat and two fowls to the parish, and not so muchas a bite of grass allowed on the Duke's lands? In his late Highness'sday the poor folk were allowed to graze their cattle on the borders ofthe chase; but now a man dare not pluck a handful of weeds there, or somuch as pick up a fallen twig; though the deer may trample his youngwheat, and feed off the patch of beans at his very door. They do say theDuchess has a kind heart, and gives away money to the towns-folk; but wecountry-people who spend our lives raising fodder for her game neverhear of her Highness but when one of her game-keepers comes down on usfor poaching or stealing wood. --Yes, by the saints, and it was herHighness who sent a neighbour's lad to the galleys last year for fellinga tree in the chase; a good lad as ever dug furrow, but he lacked woodfor a new plough-share, and how in God's name was he to plough his fieldwithout it?"

So she went on, like a torrent after the spring rains; but when he namedMomola she fell silent, and Giannozzo, looking sideways, drummed withhis heel on the floor. 

Odo glanced from one to the other. "She's dead, then?" he cried. 

Filomena opened deprecating palms. "Can one tell, excellency? It may beshe is off with the gypsies. "

"The gypsies? How long since?"

"Giannozzo, " cried his mother, as he stood glowering, "go see that thestable is locked and his excellency's horses bedded down. " He slunk outand she began to gather up the remains of Odo's meagre supper. 

"But you must remember when this happened. "

"Holy Mother! It was the year we had frost in April and lost ourhatching for want of leaves. But as for that child of ingratitude, oneday she was here, the next she was gone--clean gone, as a nut drops fromthe tree--and I that had given the blood of my veins to nourish her!Since then, God is my witness, we have had nothing but misfortune. Thenext year it was the weevils in the wheat; and so it goes. "

Odo was silent, seeing it was vain to press her. He fancied that thegirl must have died--of neglect perhaps, or ill usage--and that theyfeared to own it. His heart swelled, but not against them: they seemedto him no more accountable than cowed hunger-driven animals. 

He tossed impatiently on the hard bed Filomena had made up for him inthe bailiff's parlour, and was afoot again with the first light. Stepping out into the farm-yard he looked abroad over the flat grey faceof the land. Around the keep stretched the new-ploughed fields and thepollarded mulberry orchards; but these, with the clustered hovels of thevillage, formed a mere islet in the surrounding waste of marsh andwoodland. The scene symbolised fitly enough of social conditions of thecountry: the over-crowded peasantry huddled on their scant patches ofarable ground, while miles of barren land represented the feudal rightsthat hemmed them in on every side. 

Odo walked across the yard to the chapel. On the threshold he stumbledover a heap of mulberry-shoots and a broken plough-share. Twilight heldthe place; but as he stood there the frescoes started out in the slantof the sunrise like dead faces floating to the surface of a river. Deadfaces, yes: plaintive spectres of his childish fears and longings, lostin the harsh daylight of experience. He had forgotten the very dreamsthey stood for: Lethe flowed between and only one voice reached acrossthe torrent. It was that of Saint Francis, lover of the poor... 

The morning was hot as Odo drove toward Pianura, and limping ahead ofhim in the midday glare he presently saw the figure of a hump-backed manin a decent black dress and three-cornered hat. There was somethingfamiliar in the man's gait, and in the shape of his large head, poisedon narrow stooping shoulders, and as the carriage drew abreast of him, Odo, leaning from the window, cried out, "Brutus--this must be Brutus!"

"Your excellency has the advantage of me, " said the hunchback, turningon him a thin face lit by the keen eyes that had once searched hischildish soul. 

Odo met the rebuff with a smile. "Does that, " said he, "prevent mysuggesting that you might continue your way more comfortably in mycarriage? The road is hot and dusty, and, as you see, I am in want ofcompany. "

The pedestrian, who seemed unprepared for this affable rejoinder, hadthe sheepish air of a man whose rudeness has missed the mark. 

"Why, sir, " said he, recovering himself, "comfort is all a matter ofhabit, and I daresay the jolting of your carriage might seem to me moreunpleasant than the heat and dust of the road, to which necessity haslong since accustomed me. "

"In that case, " returned Odo with increasing amusement, "you will havethe additional merit of sacrificing your pleasure to add to mine. "

The hunchback stared. "And what have you or yours ever done for me, " heretorted, "that I should sacrifice to your pleasure even the wretchedprivilege of being dusted by the wheels of your coach?"

"Why, that, " replied Odo, "is a question I can scarce answer till yougive me the opportunity of naming myself. --If you are indeed CarloGamba, " he continued, "I am your old friend and companion Odo Valsecca. "

The hunchback started. "The Cavaliere Valsecca!" he cried. "I had heardthat you were expected. " He stood gazing at Odo. "Our next Duke!" hemuttered. 

Odo smiled. "I had rather, " he said, "that my past commended me than myfuture. It is more than doubtful if I am ever able to offer you a seatin the Duke's carriage; but Odo Valsecca's is very much at yourservice. "

Gamba bowed with a kind of awkward dignity. "I am grateful for afriend's kindness, " he said, "but I do not ride in a nobleman'scarriage. "

"There, " returned Odo with perfect good-humour, "you have had advantageof ME; for I can no more escape doing so than you can escape spendingyour life in the company of an ill-tempered man. " And courteouslylifting his hat he called to the postillion to drive on. 

The hunchback at this, flushing red, laid a hand on the carriage door. 

"Sir, " said he, "I freely own myself in the wrong; but a smooth temperwas not one of the blessings my unknown parents bequeathed to me; and Iconfess I had heard of you as one little concerned with your inferiorsexcept as they might chance to serve your pleasure. "

It was Odo's turn to colour. "Look, " said he, "at the fallibility ofrumour; for I had heard of you as something of a philosopher, and here Ifind you not only taking a man's character on hearsay but denying himthe chance to prove you mistaken!"

"I deny it no longer, " said Gamba stepping into the coach; "but as tophilosophy, the only claim I can make to it is that of being by birth aperipatetic. "

His dignity appeased, the hunchback proved himself a most engagingcompanion, and as the carriage lumbered slowly toward Pianura he hadtime not only to recount his own history but to satisfy Odo as to manypoints of the life awaiting him. 

Gamba, it appeared, owed his early schooling to a Jesuit priest who, visiting the foundling asylum, had been struck by the child's quickness, and had taken him home and bred him to be a clerk. The priest's deathleft his charge adrift, with a smattering of scholarship above hisstation, and none to whom he could turn for protection. For a while hehad lived, as he said, like a street-cat, picking up a meal where hecould, and sleeping in church porches and under street-arcades, till oneof the Duke's servants took pity on him and he was suffered to hangabout the palace and earn his keep by doing the lacquey's errands. TheDuke's attention having been called to him as a lad of parts, hisHighness had given him to the Marquess of Cerveno, in whose service heremained till shortly before that young nobleman's death. The hunchbackpassed hastily over this period; but his reticence was lit by the angryflash of his eyes. After the Marquess's death he had lived for a whilefrom hand to mouth, copying music, writing poetry for weddings andfunerals, doing pen-and-ink portraits at a scudo apiece, and putting hishand to any honest job that came his way. Count Trescorre, who now andthen showed a fitful recognition of the tie that was supposed to connectthem, at length heard of the case to which he was come and offered him atrifling pension. This the hunchback refused, asking instead to be givensome fixed employment. Trescorre then obtained his appointment asassistant to the Duke's librarian, a good old priest engrossed incompiling the early history of Pianura from the ducal archives; and thispost Gamba had now filled for two years. 

"It must, " said Odo, "be one singularly congenial to you, if, as I haveheard, you are of a studious habit. Though I suppose, " he tentativelyadded, "the library is not likely to be rich in works of the newscientific and philosophic schools. "

His companion received this observation in silence; and after a momentOdo continued: "I have a motive in asking, since I have been somewhatdeeply engaged in the study of these writers, and my dearest wish is tocontinue while in Pianura my examination of their theories, and ifpossible to become acquainted with any who share their views. "

He was not insensible of the risk of thus opening himself to a stranger;but the sense of peril made him the more eager to proclaim himself onthe side of the cause he seemed to have deserted. 

Gamba turned as he spoke, and their eyes met in one of those revealingglances that lay the foundations of friendship. 

"I fear, Cavaliere, " said the hunchback with a smile, "that you willfind both branches of investigation somewhat difficult to pursue inPianura; for the Church takes care that neither the philosophers northeir books shall gain a footing in our most Christian state. Indeed, "he added, "not only must the library be free from heretical works, butthe librarian clear of heretical leanings; and since you have honouredme with your confidence I will own that, the court having got wind of mysupposed tendency to liberalism, I live in daily expectation ofdismissal. For the moment they are content to keep their spies on me;but were it not for the protection of the good abate, my superior, Ishould long since have been turned out. "

"And why, " asked Odo, "do you speak of the court and the Church as one?"

"Because, sir, in our virtuous duchy the terms are interchangeable. TheDuke is in fact so zealous a son of the Church that if the latter showedany leniency to sinners the secular arm would promptly repair hernegligence. His Highness, as you may have heard, is ruled by hisconfessor, an adroit Dominican. The confessor, it is true, has tworivals, the Countess Belverde, a lady distinguished for her piety, and aGerman astrologer or alchemist, lately come to Pianura, and callinghimself a descendant of the Egyptian priesthood and an adept of thehigher or secret doctrines of Neoplatonism. These three, however, thoughostensibly rivals for the Duke's favour, live on such good terms withone another that they are suspected of having entered into a secretpartnership; while some regard them all as the emissaries of theJesuits, who, since the suppression of the Society, are known to havekept a footing in Pianura, as in most of the Italian states. As to theDuke, the death of the Marquess of Cerveno, the failing health of thelittle prince, and his own strange physical infirmities, have so preyedon his mind that he is the victim of any who are unscrupulous enough totrade on the fears of a diseased imagination. His counsellors, howeverdivided in doctrine, have at least one end in common; and that is, tokeep the light of reason out of the darkened chamber in which they haveconfined him; and with such a ruler and such principles of government, you may fancy that poor philosophy has not where to lay her head. "

"And the people?" Odo pursued. "What of the fiscal administration? Insome states where liberty of thought is forbidden the material welfareof the subject is nevertheless considered. "

The hunchback shook his head. "It may be so, " said he, "though I hadthought the principle of moral tyranny must infect every branch ofpublic administration. With us, at all events, where the Church partyrules, the privileges and exemptions of the clergy are the chief sourceof suffering, and the state of passive ignorance in which they have keptthe people has bred in the latter a dull resignation that is the surestobstacle to reform. Oh, sir, " he cried, his eyes darkening with emotion, "if you could see, as I do, the blind brute misery on which all themagnificence of rank and all the refinements of luxury are built, youwould feel, as you drive along this road, that with every turn of thewheels you are passing over the bodies of those who have toiled withoutceasing that you might ride in a gilt coach, and have gone hungry thatyou might feast in Kings' palaces!"

The touch of rhetoric in this adjuration did not discredit it with Odo, to whom the words were as caustic on an open wound. He turned to makesome impulsive answer; but as he did so he caught sight of the towers ofPianura rising above the orchards and market-gardens of the suburbs. Thesight started a new train of feeling, and Gamba, perceiving it, saidquietly: "But this is no time to speak of such things. "

A moment later the carriage had passed under the great battlementedgates, with their Etruscan bas-reliefs, and the motto of the house ofValsecca--Humilitas--surmounted by the ducal escutcheon. 

Though the hour was close on noon the streets were as animated as at theangelus, and the carriage could hardly proceed for the crowd obstructingits passage. So unusual at that period was such a sight in one of thelesser Italian cities that Odo turned to Gamba for an explanation. Atthe same moment a roar rose from the crowd; and the coach turning intothe Corso which led to the ducal palace and the centre of the town, Odocaught sight of a strange procession advancing from that direction. Itwas headed by a clerk or usher with a black cap and staff, behind whommarched two bare-foot friars escorting between them a middle-aged man inthe dress of an abate, his hands bound behind him and his headsurmounted by a paste-board mitre inscribed with the title: A Destroyerof Female Chastity. This man, who was of a simple and decent aspect, wasso dazed by the buffeting of the crowd, so spattered by the mud andfilth hurled at him from a hundred taunting hands, and his countenancedistorted by so piteous a look of animal fear, that he seemed more likea madman being haled to Bedlam than a penitent making public amends forhis offence. 

"Are such failings always so severely punished in Pianura?" Odo asked, turning ironically to Gamba as the mob and its victim passed out ofsight. 

The hunchback smiled. "Not, " said he, "if the offender be in a positionto benefit by the admirable doctrines of probabilism, the direction ofintention, or any one of the numerous expedients by which an indulgentChurch has smoothed the way of the sinner; but as God does not give thecrop unless man sows the seed, so His ministers bestow grace only whenthe penitent has enriched the treasury. The fellow, " he added, "is a manof some learning and of a retired and orderly way of living, and thecharge was brought against him by a jeweller and his wife, who owed hima sum of money and are said to have chosen this way of evading payment. The priests are always glad to find a scape-goat of the sort, especiallywhen there are murmurs against the private conduct of those in highplaces, and the woman, having denounced him, was immediately assured byher confessor that any debt incurred to a seducer was null and void, andthat she was entitled to a hundred scudi of damages for having been ledinto sin. "

2. 10. 

At the Duke's express wish, Odo was to lodge in the palace; and when heentered the courtyard he found Cantapresto waiting to lead him to hisapartment. 

The rooms assigned to him lay at the end of one of the wings overlookingthe gardens; and as he mounted the great stairway and walked down thecorridors with their frescoed walls and busts of Roman emperors herecalled the far-off night when he had passed through the same scenes asa frightened awe-struck child. Where he had then beheld a supernaturalfabric, peopled with divinities of bronze and marble, and glowing withlight and colour, he now saw a many-corridored palace, stately indeed, and full of a faded splendour, but dull and antiquated in comparisonwith the new-fangled elegance of the Sardinian court. Yet at every turnsome object thrilled the fibres of old association or pride of race. Here he traversed a gallery hung with the portraits of his line; therecaught a glimpse of the pages' antechamber through which he and hismother had been led when they waited on the Duke; and from the windowsof his closet he overlooked the alleys and terraces where he hadwandered with the hunchback. 

One of the Duke's pages came to say that his Highness would receive thecavaliere when the court rose from dinner; and finding himself with twohours on his hands, Odo determined to await his kinsman's summons in thegarden. Thither he presently repaired; and was soon, with a mournfulpleasure, retracing the paths he had first explored in such an ecstasyof wonder. The pleached walks and parterres were in all the freshness ofJune. Roses and jasmine mingled on the terrace-walls, citron-treesingeniously grafted with red and white carnations stood in Faenza jarsbefore the lemon-house, and marble nymphs and fauns peeped from thicketsof flowering camellias. A noise of childish voices presently attractedOdo, and following a tunnel of clipped limes he came out on a theatrecut in the turf and set about with statues of Apollo and the Muses. Ahandful of boys in military dress were performing a series of evolutionsin the centre of this space; and facing them stood a child of about tenyears, in a Colonel's uniform covered with orders, his hair curled andpowdered, a paste-board sword in his hand, and his frail body supportedon one side by a turbaned dwarf, and on the other by an ecclesiastic whowas evidently his governor. The child, as Odo approached, was callingout his orders to his regiment in a weak shrill voice, moving now here, now there on his booted tottering legs, as his two supporters guidedhim, and painfully trying to flourish the paper weapon that was tooheavy for his nerveless wrist. Behind this strange group stood anotherfigure, that of a tall heavy man, richly dressed, with a curiousOriental-looking order on his breast and a veiled somnolent eye which hekept fixed on the little prince. 

Odo had been about to advance and do homage to his cousin; but a signfrom the man in the background arrested him. The manoeuvres were soonover, the heir was lifted into a little gilded chariot drawn by whitegoats, his regiment formed in line and saluted him, and he disappeareddown one of the alleys with his attendants. 

This ceremony over, the tall man advanced to Odo with a bow and askedpardon for the liberty he had taken. 

"You are doubtless, " said he, "his Highness's cousin, the CavaliereValsecca; and my excuse for intruding between yourself and the prince isthat I am the Duke's physician, Count Heiligenstern, and that the heiris at present undergoing a course of treatment under my care. Hishealth, as you probably know, has long been a cause of anxiety to hisillustrious parents, and when I was summoned to Pianura the College ofPhysicians had given up all hope of saving him. Since my coming, however, I flatter myself that a marked change is perceptible. My methodis that of invigorating the blood by exciting the passions most likelyto produce a generous vital ardour. Thus, by organising these juvenilemanoeuvres, I arouse the prince's martial zeal; by encouraging him tostudy the history of his ancestors, I evoke his political ambition; bycausing him to be led about the gardens on a pony, accompanied by aminiature pack of Maltese dogs in pursuit of a tame doe, I stimulate thepassion of the chase; but it is essential to my system that one emotionshould not violently counteract another, and I am therefore obliged toprotect my noble patient from the sudden intrusion of new impressions. "

This explanation, delivered in a sententious tone, and with a strongGerman accent, seemed to Odo no more than a learned travesty of thefamiliar and pathetic expedient of distracting a sick child by thepretence of manly diversions. He was struck, however, by the physician'saspect, and would have engaged him in talk had not one of the Duke'sgentlemen appeared with the announcement that his Highness would bepleased to receive the Cavaliere Valsecca. 

Like most dwellings of its kind in Italy, the palace of Pianuraresembled one of those shells which reveal by their outer convolutionsthe gradual development of the creature housed within. For two or threegenerations after Bracciaforte, the terrible founder of the line, hadmade himself master of the republic, his descendants had clung to theold brick fortress or rocca which the great condottiere had heldsuccessfully against the burghers' arquebuses and the battering-rams ofrival adventurers, and which still glassed its battlements in the slowwaters of the Piana beside the city wall. It was Ascanio, the firstDuke, the correspondent of Politian and Castiglione, who, finding theancestral lair too cramped for the court of a humanist prince, hadsummoned Luciano da Laurana to build a palace better fitted to hisstate. Duke Ascanio, in bronze by Verocchio, still looked up with pridefrom the palace-square at the brick and terra-cotta facade with itsfruit-wreathed arches crowned by imperial profiles; but a later princefound the small rooms and intricate passages of Laurana's structureinadequate to the pomp of an ally of Leo X. , and Vignola added the stateapartments, the sculpture gallery and the libraries. 

The palace now passed for one of the wonders of Italy. The Duke's guest, the witty and learned Aretino, celebrated it in verse, his friendCardinal Bembo in prose; Correggio painted the walls of one room, GuilioRomano the ceiling of another. It seemed that magnificence could go nofarther, till the seventeenth century brought to the throne a Duke whoasked himself how a self-respecting prince could live without a theatre, a riding-school and an additional wing to lodge the ever-growing trainof court officials who had by this time replaced the feudal men-at-arms. He answered the question by laying an extra tax on his people andinviting to Pianura the great Roman architect Carlo Borromini, whoregretfully admitted that his illustrious patron was on the whole lessroyally housed than their Highnesses of Mantua and Parma. Within fiveyears the "cavallerizza, " the theatre and the gardens flung defiance atthese aspiring potentates; and again Pianura took precedence of herrivals. The present Duke's father had expressed the most recent tendencyof the race by the erection of a chapel in the florid Jesuit style; andthe group of buildings thus chronicled in rich durable lines the varyingpassions and ambitions of three hundred years of power. 

As Odo followed his guide toward the Duke's apartments he remarked achange in the aspect of the palace. Where formerly the corridors hadbeen thronged with pages, lacqueys and gaily-dressed cavaliers andladies, only a few ecclesiastics now glided by: here a Monsignore inermine and lace rochet, attended by his chaplain and secretaries, therea cowled Dominican or a sober-looking secular priest. The Duke waslodged in the oldest portion of the palace, and Odo, who had nevervisited these apartments, looked with interest at the projectingsculptured chimney and vaulted ceiling of the pages' ante-chamber, whichhad formerly been the guardroom and was still hung with panoplies. Thence he was led into a gallery lined with scriptural tapestries andfurnished in the heavy style of the seventeenth century. Here he waiteda few moments, hearing the sound of conversation in the room beyond;then the door of this apartment opened, and a handsome Dominican passedout, followed by a page who invited Odo to step into the Duke's cabinet. 

This was a very small room, completely panelled in delicate wood-carvingtouched with gold. Over this panelling, regardless of the beauty of itsdesign, had been hung a mass of reliquaries and small devotionalbas-reliefs and paintings, making the room appear more like the chapelof a wonder-working saint than a prince's closet. Here again Odo foundhimself alone; but the page presently returned to say that his Highnesswas not well and begged the cavaliere to wait on him in his bed-chamber. 

The most conspicuous object in this room was a great bedstead raised ona dais. The plumed posts and sumptuous hangings of the bed gave it analtar-like air, and the Duke himself, who lay between the curtains, hiswig replaced by a nightcap, a scapular about his neck, and hisshrivelled body wrapped in a brocaded dressing-gown, looked more like arelic than a man. His heavy under-lip trembled slightly as he offeredhis hand to Odo's salute. 

"You find me, cousin, " said he after a brief greeting, "much troubled bya question that has of late incessantly disturbed my rest--can the soul, after full intuition of God, be polluted by the sins of the body?" heclutched Odo's hand in his burning grasp. "Is it possible that there arehuman beings so heedless of their doom that they can go about theirearthly pleasures with this awful problem unsolved? Oh, why has not somePope decided it? Why has God left this hideous uncertainty hanging overus? You know the doctrine of Plotinus--'he who has access to God leavesthe virtues behind him as the images of the gods are left in the outertemple. ' Many of the fathers believed that the Neoplatonists werepermitted to foreshadow in their teachings the revelation of Christ; buton these occult points much doubt remains, and though certain of thegreat theologians have inclined to this interpretation, there are otherswho hold that it leans to the heresy of Quietism. "

Odo, who had inferred in the Duke's opening words an allusion to thelittle prince's ill-health, or to some political anxiety, was at a losshow to reply to this strange appeal; but after a moment he said, "I haveheard that your Highness's director is a man of great learning anddiscrimination. Can he not help your Highness to some decision on thispoint?"

The Duke glanced at him suspiciously. "Father Ignazio, " said he, "is infact well-versed in theology; but there are certain doctrinesinaccessible to all but a few who have received the direct illuminationof heaven, and on this point I cannot feel that his judgment is final. "He wiped the dampness from his sallow forehead and pressed the scapularto his lips. "May you never know, " he cried, "the agony of a fatherwhose child is dying, of a sovereign who longs to labour for the welfareof his people, but who is racked by the thought that in giving his mindto temporal duties and domestic affections while such spiritualdifficulties are still unsolved, he may be preparing for himself aneternity of torture such as that--" and he pointed to an old andblackened picture of the Last Judgment that hung on the opposite wall. 

Odo tried to frame a soothing rejoinder; but the Duke passionatelyinterrupted him. "Alas, cousin, no rest is possible for one who hasattained the rapture of the Beatific Vision, yet who trembles lest themere mechanical indulgence of the senses may still subject him to thecommon penalty of sin! As a man who has devoted himself to the study oftheology is privileged to argue on questions forbidden to the vulgar, sosurely fasting, maceration and ecstasy must liberate the body from thebondage of prescribed morality. Shall no distinction be recognisedbetween my conduct and that of the common sot or debauchee whose soullies in blind subjection to his lower instincts? I, who have labouredearly and late to remove temptation from my people--who have punishedoffences against conduct as unsparingly as spiritual error--I, who havenot scrupled to destroy every picture in my galleries that contained anude figure or a wanton attitude--I, who have been blessed fromchildhood by tokens of divine favour and miraculous intervention--can Idoubt that I have earned the privileges of that higher state in whichthe soul is no longer responsible for the failings of the body? Andyet--and yet--what if I were mistaken?" he moaned. "What if my advisorshave deceived me? Si autem et sic impius sum, quare frustra laboravi?"And he sank back on his pillows limp as an empty glove. 

Alarmed at his disorder, Odo stood irresolute whether to call for help;but as he hesitated the Duke feebly drew from his bosom a gold keyattached to a slender Venetian chain. 

"This, " said he, "unlocks the small tortoise-shell cabinet yonder. In ityou will find a phial of clear liquor, a few drops of which will restoreme. 'Tis an essence distilled by the Benedictine nuns of the PerpetualAdoration and peculiarly effective in accesses of spiritualdisturbance. "

Odo complied, and having poured the liquor into a glass, held it to hiscousin's lips. In a moment the Duke's eye revived and he began to speakin a weak but composed voice, with an air of dignity in singularcontrast to his previous self-abandonment. "I am, " said he, "unhappilysubject to such seizures after any prolonged exertion, and aconversation I have just had with my director has left me in no fitstate to receive you. The cares of government sit heavy on one who hasscarce health enough for the duties of a private station; and were itnot for my son I should long since have withdrawn to the shelter of themonastic life. " He paused and looked at Odo with a melancholy kindness. "In you, " said he, "the native weakness of our complexion appears tohave been tempered by the blood of your mother's house, and yourcountenance gives every promise of health and vivacity. "

He broke off with a sigh and continued in a more authoritative tone:"You have learned from Count Trescorre my motive in summoning you toPianura. My son's health causes me the liveliest concern, my own issubject to such seizures as you have just witnessed. I cannot thinkthat, in this age of infidelity and disorder, God can design to deprivea Christian state of a line of sovereigns uniformly zealous in thedefence of truth; but the purposes of Heaven are inscrutable, as therecent suppression of the Society of Jesus has most strangely proved;and should our dynasty be extinguished I am consoled by the thought thatthe rule will pass to one of our house. Of this I shall have more to sayto you in future. Meanwhile your first business is to acquaint yourselfwith your new surroundings. The Duchess holds a circle this evening, where you will meet the court; but I must advise you that the personsher Highness favours with her intimacy are not those best qualified toguide and instruct a young man in your position. These you will meet atthe house of the Countess Belverde, one of the Duchess's ladies, a womanof sound judgment and scrupulous piety, who gathers about her all ourmost learned and saintly ecclesiastics. Count Trescorre will instructyou in all that becomes your position at court, and my director, FatherIgnazio, will aid you in the selection of a confessor. As to the Bishop, a most worthy and conversable prelate, to whom I would have you show alldue regard, his zeal in spiritual matters is not as great as I couldwish, and in private talk he indulges in a laxity of opinion againstwhich I cannot too emphatically warn you. Happily, however, Pianuraoffers other opportunities of edification. Father Ignazio is a man ofwide learning and inflexible doctrine, and in several of ourmonasteries, notably that of the Barnabites, you will find examples ofsanctity and wisdom such as a young man may well devoutly consider. Ourconvents also are distinguished for the severity of their rule and thespiritual privileges accorded them. The Carmelites have every reason tohope for the beatification of their aged Prioress, and among the nuns ofthe Perpetual Adoration is one who has recently received the ineffablegrace of the vulnus divinum. In the conversation of these saintly nuns, and of the holy Abbot of the Barnabites, you will find the surestsafeguard against those errors and temptations that beset your age. " Heleaned back with a gesture of dismissal; but added, reddening slightly, as Odo prepared to withdraw: "You will oblige me, cousin, when you meetmy physician, Count Heiligenstern, by not touching on the matter of therestorative you have seen me take. "

Odo left his cousin's presence with a feeling of deep discouragement. Toa spirit aware of the new influences abroad, and fresh from contact withevils rooted in the very foundations of the existing system, there was apeculiar irony in being advised to seek guidance and instruction in thesociety of ecstatic nuns and cloistered theologians. The Duke, with hissickly soul agrope in a maze of Neoplatonism and probabilism, while hispeople groaned under unjust taxes, while knowledge and intellectualliberty languished in a kind of moral pest-house, seemed to Odo like aruler who, in time of famine, should keep the royal granaries locked andspend his days praying for the succour that his own hand might havedispensed. 

In the tapestry room one of his Highness's gentlemen waited to reconductOdo. Their way lay through the portrait gallery of which he hadpreviously caught a glimpse, and here he begged his guide to leave him. He felt a sudden desire to meet his unknown ancestors face to face, andto trace the tendencies which, from the grim Bracciaforte and thestately sceptical humanist of Leo's age, had mysteriously forced therace into its ever-narrowing mould. The dusky canvases, hung high intarnished escutcheoned frames, presented a continuous chronicle of theline, from Bracciaforte himself, with his predatory profile outlined bysome early Tuscan hand against the turrets of his impregnable fortress. Odo lingered long on this image, but it was not till he stood beneathPiero della Francesca's portrait of the first Duke that he felt thethrill of kindred instincts. In this grave face, with its sensuous mouthand melancholy speculative eyes, he recognised the mingled strain ofimpressionability and unrest that had reached such diverse issues in hiscousin and himself. The great Duke of the "Golden Age, " in hisTitianesque brocade, the statuette of a naked faun at his elbow, and afaun-like smile on his own ruddy lips, represented another aspect of theancestral spirit: the rounded temperament of an age of Cyrenaicism, inwhich every moment was a ripe fruit sunned on all sides. A littlefarther on, the shadow of the Council of Trent began to fall on theducal faces, as the uniform blackness of the Spanish habit replaced thesumptuous colours of the Renaissance. Here was the persecuting Bishop, Paul IV. 's ally against the Spaniards, painted by Caravaggio in hauberkand mailed gloves, with his motto--Etiam cum gladio--surmounting theepiscopal chair; there the Duke who, after a life of hard warfare andstern piety, had resigned his office to his son and died in the"angelica vestis" of the tertiary order; and the "beatified" Duchess whohad sold her jewels to buy corn for the poor during the famine of 1670, and had worn a hair-shirt under a corset that seemed stiff enough toserve all the purposes of bodily mortification. So the file descended, the colours fading, the shadows deepening, till it reached a babyporporato of the last century, who had donned the cardinal's habit atfour, and stood rigid and a little pale in his red robes and lace, witha crucifix and a skull on the table to which the top of his berrettahardly reached. 

It seemed to Odo as he gazed on the long line of faces as though theirowners had entered one by one into a narrowing defile, where the sunrose later and set earlier on each successive traveller; and in everycountenance, from that of the first Duke to that of his own peruked andcuirassed grandfather, he discerned the same symptom of decadency: thatduality of will which, in a delicately-tempered race, is the fatal fruitof an undisturbed pre-eminence. They had ruled too long and enjoyed toomuch; and the poor creature he had just left to his dismal scruples andforebodings seemed the mere empty husk of long-exhausted passions. 

2. 11. 

The Duchess was lodged in the Borromini wing of the palace, and thitherOdo was conducted that evening. 

To eyes accustomed to such ceremonial there was no great novelty in thetroop of powdered servants, the major-domo in his short cloak and chain, and the florid splendour of the long suite of rooms, decorated in astyle that already appeared over-charged to the more fastidious taste ofthe day. Odo's curiosity centred chiefly in the persons peopling thisscene, whose conflicting interests and passions formed, as it were, theframework of the social structure of Pianura, so that there was not alabourer in the mulberry-orchards or a weaver in the silk-looms butdepended for his crust of black bread and the leaking roof over his headon the private whim of some member of that brilliant company. 

The Duchess, who soon entered, received Odo with the flighty good-natureof a roving mind; but as her deep-blue gaze met his her colour rose, hereyes lingered on his face, and she invited him to a seat at her side. Maria Clementina was of Austrian descent, and something in her free andnoble port and the smiling arrogance of her manner recalled the aspectof her distant kinswoman, the young Queen of France. She plied Odo witha hundred questions, interrupting his answers with a playful abruptness, and to all appearances more engaged by his person than his discourse. 

"Have you seen my son?" she asked. "I remember you a little boy scarcebigger than Ferrante, whom your mother brought to kiss my hand in thevery year of my marriage. Yes--and you pinched my toy spaniel, sir, andI was so angry with you that I got up and turned my back on thecompany--do you remember? But how should you, being such a child at thetime? Ah, cousin how old you make me feel! I would to God my son lookedas you did then; but the Duke is killing him with his nostrums. Thechild was healthy enough when he was born; but what with novenas andtouching of relics and animal magnetism and electrical treatment, there's not a bone in his little body but the saints and the surgeonsare fighting over its possession. Have you read 'Emile, ' cousin, by thenew French author--I forget his name? Well, I would have the childbrought up like 'Emile, ' allowed to run wild in the country and grow upsturdy and hard as a little peasant. But what heresies am I talking! Thebook is on the Index, I believe, and if my director knew I had it in mylibrary I should be set up in the stocks in the market-place and all mycourt-gowns burnt at the Church door as a warning against the danger ofimporting the new fashions from France!--I hope you hunt, cousin?" shecried suddenly. "'Tis my chief diversion and one I would have my friendsenjoy with me. His Highness has lately seen fit to cut down my stables, so that I have scarce forty saddle-horses to my name, and the greaterpart but sorry nags at that; yet I can still find a mount for any friendthat will ride with me and I hope to see you among the number if theDuke can spare you now and then from mass and benediction. His Highnesscomplains that I am always surrounded by the same company; but is it myfault if there are not twenty persons at court that can survive a day inthe saddle and a night at cards? Have you seen the Belverde, my mistressof the robes? She follows the hunt in a litter, cousin, and tells herbeads at the death! I hope you like cards too, cousin, for I would haveall my weaknesses shared by my friends, that they may be the lessdisposed to criticise them. "

The impression produced on the Duchess by the cavaliere Valsecca wasclosely observed by several members of the group surrounding herHighness. One of these was Count Trescorre, who moved among thecourtiers with an air of ease that seemed to establish withoutproclaiming the tie between himself and the Duchess. When MariaClementina sat down at play, Trescorre joined Odo and with his usualfriendliness pointed out the most conspicuous figures in the circle. TheDuchess's society, as the Duke had implied, was composed of the liveliermembers of the court, chief among whom was the same Don Serafino who hadfigured so vividly in the reminiscences of Mirandolina and Cantapresto. This gentleman, a notorious loose-liver and gamester, with some remainsof good looks and a gay boisterous manner, played the leader of revelsto her Highness's following; and at his heels came the flock of prettywomen and dashing spendthrifts who compose the train of a young andpleasure-loving princess. On such occasions as the present, however, allthe members of the court were obliged to pay their duty to her Highness;and conspicuous among these less frequent visitors was the Duke'sdirector, the suave and handsome Dominican whom Odo had seen leaving hisHighness's closet that afternoon. This ecclesiastic was engaged inconversation with the Prime Minister, Count Pievepelago, a small feeblemannikin covered with gold lace and orders. The deference with which thelatter followed the Dominican's discourse excited Odo's attention; butit was soon diverted by the approach of a lady who joined herself to thegroup with an air of discreet familiarity. Though no longer young, shewas still slender and graceful, and her languid eye and vapourish mannerseemed to Odo to veil an uncommon alertness of perception. The richsobriety of her dress, the jewelled rosary about her wrist, and most ofall, perhaps, the murderous sweetness of the smile with which theDuchess addressed her, told him that here was the Countess Belverde; aninference which Trescorre confirmed. 

"The Countess, " said he, "or I should rather say the Marchioness ofBoscofolto, since the Duke has just bestowed on her the fief of thatname, is impatient to make your acquaintance; and since you doubtlessremember the saying of the Marquis de Montesquieu, that to know a rulerone must know his confessor and his mistress, you will perhaps be gladto seize both opportunities in one. "

The Countess greeted Odo with a flattering deference and at once drewhim into conversation with Pievepelago and the Dominican. 

"We are discussing, " said she, "the details of Prince Ferrante'sapproaching visit to the shrine of our Lady of the Mountain. This shrinelies about half an hour's ride beyond my villa of Boscofolto, where Ihope to have the honour of receiving their Highnesses on their returnfrom the pilgrimage. The Madonna del Monte, as you doubtless know, hasoften preserved the ducal house in seasons of peril, notably during thegreat plague of 1630 and during the famine in the Duchess Polixena'stime, when her Highness, of blessed memory, met our Lady in the streetsdistributing bread, in the dress of a peasant-woman from the hills, butwith a necklace made of blood-drops instead of garnets. Father Ignaziohas lately counselled the little prince's visiting in state theprotectress of his line, and his Highness's physician, CountHeiligenstern, does not disapprove the plan. In fact, " she added, "Iunderstand that he thinks all special acts of piety beneficial, assymbolising the inward act by which the soul incessantly strives toreunite itself to the One. "

The Dominican glanced at Odo with a smile. "The Count's dialectics, "said he, "might be dangerous were they a little clearer; but we musthope he distinguishes more accurately between his drugs than hisdogmas. "

"But I am told, " the Prime Minister here interposed in a creaking rustyvoice, "that her Highness is set against the pilgrimage and will putevery obstacle in the way of its being performed. "

The Countess sighed and cast down her eyes, the Dominican remainedsilent, and Trescorre said quietly to Odo, "Her Highness would bepleased to have you join her in a game at basset. " As they crossed theroom he added in a low tone: "The Duchess, in spite of her remarkablestrength of character, is still of an age to be readily open to newinfluences. I observed she was much taken by your conversation, and youwould be doing her a service by engaging her not to oppose thispilgrimage to Boscofolto. We have Heiligenstern's word that it cannotharm the prince, it will produce a good impression on the people, and itis of vital importance to her Highness not to side against the Duke insuch matters. " And he withdrew with a smile as Odo approached thecard-table. 

Odo left the Duchess's circle with an increased desire to penetrate moredeeply into the organisation of the little world about him, to trace theoperation of its various parts, and to put his hand on the mainspringabout which they revolved; and he wondered whether Gamba, whoseconnection with the ducal library must give him some insight into theaffairs of the court, might not prove as instructive a guide throughthis labyrinth as through the mazes of the ducal garden. 

The Duke's library filled a series of rooms designed in the classicalstyle of the cinque-cento. On the very threshold Odo was conscious ofleaving behind the trivial activities of the palace, with the fantasticarchitecture which seemed their natural setting. Here all was based on anoble permanence of taste, a convergence of accumulated effort toward achosen end; and the door was fittingly surmounted by Seneca's definitionof the wise man's state: "Omnia illi secula ut deo serviunt. "

Odo would gladly have lingered among the books which filled the roomswith an incense-like aroma of old leather. His imagination caressed inpassing the yellowish vellum backs, the worn tooling of Aldine folios, the heavy silver clasps of ancient chronicles and psalters; but hisfirst object was to find Gamba and renew the conversation of theprevious day. In this he was disappointed. The only occupant of thelibrary was the hunchback's friend and protector, the abate Crescenti, atall white-haired priest with the roseate gravity and benevolent air ofa donator in some Flemish triptych. The abate, courteously welcomingOdo, explained that he had despatched his assistant to the Benedictinemonastery to copy certain ancient records of transactions between thatorder and the Lords of Valsecca, and added that Gamba, on his return, should at once be apprised of the cavaliere's wish to see him. 

The abate himself had been engaged, when his visitor entered, incollating manuscripts, but on Odo's begging him to return to his work, he said with a smile: "I do not suffer from an excess of interruptions, for the library is the least visited portion of the palace, and I amglad to welcome any who are disposed to inspect its treasures. I knownot, cavaliere, " he added, "if the report of my humble labours has everreached you;" and on Odo's affirmative gesture he went on, with theeagerness of a shy man who gathers assurance from the intelligence ofhis listener: "Such researches into the rude and uncivilised past seemto me as essential to the comprehension of the present as the masteringof the major premiss to the understanding of a syllogism; and to thosewho reproach me for wasting my life over the chronicles of barbarianinvasions and the records of monkish litigations, instead ofcontemplating the illustrious deeds of Greek sages and Roman heroes, Iconfidently reply that it is more useful to a man to know his ownfather's character than that of a remote ancestor. Even in this quietretreat, " he went on, "I hear much talk of abuses and of the need forreform; and I often think that if they who rail so loudly againstexisting institutions would take the trouble to trace them to theirsource, and would, for instance, compare this state as it is today withits condition five hundred or a thousand years ago, instead of measuringit by the standard of some imaginary Platonic republic, they would find, if not less subject for complaint, yet fuller means of understanding andremedying the abuses they discover. "

This view of history was one so new in the abate Crescenti's day that itsurprised Odo with the revelation of unsuspected possibilities. How wasit that among the philosophers whose works he had studied, none hadthought of tracing in the social and political tendencies of the racethe germ of wrongs so confidently ascribed to the cunning of priests andthe rapacity of princes? Odo listened with growing interest whileCrescenti, encouraged by his questions, pointed out how the abuses offeudalism had arisen from the small land-owner's need of protectionagainst the northern invader, as the concentration of royal prerogativehad been the outcome of the king's intervention between his greatvassals and the communes. The discouragement which had obscured Odo'soutlook since his visit to Pontesordo was cleared away by the discoverythat in a sympathetic study of the past might lie the secret of dealingwith present evils. His imagination, taking the intervening obstacles ata bound, arrived at once at the general axiom to which such inductionspointed; and if he afterward learned that human development follows nosuch direct line of advance, but must painfully stumble across thewastes of error, prejudice and ignorance, while the theoriser traversesthe same distance with a stroke of his speculative pinions; yet theinfluence of these teachings tempered his judgments with charity anddignified his very failures by a tragic sense of their inevitableness. 

Crescenti suggested that Gamba should wait on Odo that evening; but thelatter, being uncertain how far he might dispose of his time, enquiredwhere the hunchback lodged, with a view of sending for him at aconvenient moment. Having dined at the Duchess's table, and soonwearying of the vapid company of her associates, he yielded to thedesire for contrast that so often guided his course, and set out towardsunset in search of Gamba's lodging. 

It was his first opportunity of inspecting the town at leisure, and fora while he let his curiosity lead him as it would. The streets near thepalace were full of noble residences, recording, in their sculptureddoorways, in the wrought-iron work of torch-holders and window-grilles, and in every architectural detail, the gradual change of taste that hadtransformed the machicolations of the mediaeval fighter into the opencortiles and airy balconies of his descendant. Here and there, amidthese inveterate records of dominion, rose the monuments of a mightierand more ancient power. Of these churches and monasteries the greaternumber, dating only from the ascendancy of the Valseccas, showed anordered and sumptuous architecture; but one or two buildings survivingfrom the period of the free city stood out among them with the austerityof desert saints in a throng of court ecclesiastics. The columns of theCathedral porch were still supported on featureless porphyry lions wornsmooth by generations of loungers; and above the octagonal baptisteryran a fantastic basrelief wherein the spirals of the vine framed anallegory of men and monsters symbolising, in their mysterious conflicts, the ever-recurring Manicheism of the middle ages. Fresh from his talkwith Crescenti, Odo lingered curiously on these sculptures, which butthe day before he might have passed by as the efforts of ignorantworkmen, but which now seemed full of the significance that belongs toany incomplete expression of human thought or feeling. Of their relationto the growth of art he had as yet no clear notion; but as evidence ofsensations that his forefathers had struggled to record, they touchedhim like the inarticulate stammerings in which childhood strives toconvey its meaning. 

He found Gamba's lodging on the upper floor of a decayed palace in oneof the by-lanes near the Cathedral. The pointed arcades of this ancientbuilding enclosed the remains of floriated mouldings, and the walls ofthe court showed traces of fresco-painting; but clothes-lines now hungbetween the arches, and about the well-head in the centre of the courtsat a group of tattered women with half-naked children playing in thedirt at their feet. One of these women directed Odo to the staircasewhich ascended between damp stone walls to Gamba's door. This was openedby the hunchback himself, who, with an astonished exclamation, admittedhis visitor to a scantily furnished room littered with books and papers. A child sprawled on the floor, and a young woman, who had been sewing inthe fading light of the attic window, snatched him up as Odo entered. Her back being turned to the light, he caught only a slender youthfuloutline; but something in the turn of the head, the shrinking curve ofthe shoulders, carried him back to the little barefoot figure coweringin a corner of the kitchen at Pontesordo, while the farm-yard rang withFilomena's call--"Where are you then, child of iniquity?"

"Momola--don't you know me?" he exclaimed. 

She hung back trembling, as though the sound of his voice roused an echoof fear; but Gamba, reddening slightly, took her hand and led herforward. 

"It is, indeed, " said he, "your excellency's old playmate, the Momola ofPontesordo, who consents to share my poverty and who makes me forget itby the tenderness of her devotion. "

But Momola, at this, found voice. "Oh, sir, " she cried, "it is he whotook me in when I was half-dead and starving, who many a time wenthungry to feed me, and who cares for the child as if it were his own!"

As she stood there, in her half-wild hollowed-eyed beauty, which seemeda sickly efflorescence of the marshes, pressing to her breast another"child of iniquity" as pale and elfish as her former self, she seemed toOdo the embodiment of ancient wrongs, risen from the wasted soil tohaunt the dreams of its oppressors. 

Gamba shrugged his shoulders. "Why, " said he, "a child of my own is aluxury I am never likely to possess as long as I have wit to rememberthe fundamental axiom of philosophy: entia non sunt multiplicandapraeter necessitatum; so it is natural enough fate should single me outto repair the negligence of those who have failed to observe thatadmirable principle. And now, " he added, turning gently to Momola, "itis time to put the boy to bed. "

When the door had closed on her Odo turned to Gamba. "I could learnnothing at Pontesordo, " he said. "They seemed unwilling to speak of her. What is her story and where did you first know her?"

Gamba's face darkened. "You will remember, cavaliere, " he said, "thatsome time after your departure from Pianura I passed into the service ofthe Marquess of Cerveno, then a youth of about twenty, who combined withgraceful manners and a fair exterior a nature so corrupt and cowardlythat he seemed like some such noble edifice as this, designed to housegreat hopes and high ambitions, but fallen to base uses and become theshelter of thieves and prostitutes. Prince Ferrante being sickly fromhis birth, the Marquess was always looked on as the Duke's successor, and to Trescorre, who even then, as Master of the Horse, cherished theambitions he has since realised, no prospect could have been moredistasteful. My noble brother, to do him justice, has always hated theJesuits, who, as you doubtless know, were all-powerful here before therecent suppression of the Order. The Marquess of Cerveno was ascompletely under their control as the Duke is under that of theDominicans, and Trescorre knew that with the Marquess's accession hisown rule must end. He did his best to gain an influence over his futureruler, but failing in this resolved to ruin him. 

"Cerveno, like all your house, was passionately addicted to the chase, and spent much time hunting in the forest of Pontesordo. One day thestag was brought to bay in the farm-yard of the old manor, and thereCerveno saw Momola, then a girl of sixteen, of a singular wild beautywhich sickness and trouble have since effaced. The young Marquess wasinstantly taken; and though hitherto indifferent to women, yielded socompletely to his infatuation that Trescorre, ever on the alert, saw init an unexpected means to his end. He instantly married Momola toGiannozzo, whom she feared and hated; he schooled Giannozzo in the partof the jealous and vindictive husband, and by the liberal use of moneycontrived that Momola, while suffered to encourage the Marquess'saddresses, should be kept so close that Cerveno could not see her saveby coming to Pontesordo. This was the first step in the plan; the nextwas to arrange that Momola should lure her lover to the hunting-lodge onthe edge of the chase. This lodge, as your excellency may remember, lieslevel with the marsh, and so open to noxious exhalations that a night'ssojourn there may be fatal. The infernal scheme was carried out with theconnivance of the scoundrels at the farm, who had no scruples aboutselling the girl for a few ducats; and as to Momola, can you wonder thather loathing of Giannozzo and of her wretched life at Pontesordo threwher defenceless into Trescorre's toils? All was cunningly planned toexasperate Cerveno's passion and Momola's longing to escape; and atlength, pressed by his entreaties and innocently carrying out thedesigns of his foe, the poor girl promised to meet him after night-fallat the hunting-lodge. The secrecy of the adventure, and the peril towhich it exposed him (for Trescorre had taken care to paint Giannozzoand his father in the darkest colours) were fuel to Cerveno's passion, and he went night after night to Pontesordo. The time was August, whenthe marsh breathes death, and the Duke, apprised of his favourite'simprudence, forbade his returning to the chase. 

"Nothing could better have served Trescorre; for opposition spurred theMarquess's languid temper, and he had now the incredible folly to takeup his residence in the lodge. Within three weeks the fever held him. Hewas at once taken to Pianura, and on recovering from his seizure wassent to take the mountain air at the baths of Lucca. But the poison wasin his blood. He never regained more than a semblance of health, and hismadness having run its course, his passion for Momola turned to hate ofthe poor girl to whom he ascribed his destruction. Giannozzo, meanwhile, terrified by the report that the Duke had winded the intrigue, andfearing to be charged with connivance, thought to prove his innocence bycasting off his wife and disowning her child. 

"What part I played in this grim business I leave your excellency toconceive. As the Marquess's creature I was forced to assist at thespectacle without power to stay its consequences; but when the child wasborn I carried the news to my master and begged him to come to themother's aid. For answer, he had me beaten by his lacqueys and flung outof his house. I stomached the beating and addressed myself to Trescorre. My noble brother, whose insight is seldom at fault, saw that I knewenough to imperil him. The Marquess was dying and his enemy could affordto be generous. He gave me a little money and the following yearobtained from the Duke my appointment as assistant librarian. In thisway I was able to give Momola a home, and to save her child from theInnocenti. She and I, cavaliere, are the misshapen offspring of thatcruel foster-parent, who rears more than half the malefactors in thestate; but please heaven the boy shall have a better start in life, andperhaps grow up to destroy some of the evils on which that cursedcharity thrives. "

This narrative, and the sight of Momola and her child, followed sostrangely on the spectacle of sordid misery he had witnessed atPontesordo, that an inarticulate pity held Odo by the throat. Gamba'sanger against the people at the farm seemed as senseless as their owncruelty to their animals. What were they all--Momola, her child, and herpersecutors--but a sickly growth of the decaying social order? He feltan almost physical longing for fresh air, light, the rush of a purifyingwind through the atmosphere of moral darkness that surrounded him. 

2. 12. 

To relieve the tension of his thoughts he set forth to Gamba the purposeof his visit. 

"I am, " said he, "much like a stranger at a masked ball, where all themasks are acquainted with each other's disguises and concerted tomystify the visitor. Among the persons I have met at court several haveshown themselves ready to guide me through this labyrinth; but, tillthey themselves unmask and declare their true characters, I am doubtfulwhither they may lead me; nor do I know of any so well fitted asyourself to give me a clue to my surroundings. As for my own disguise, "he added with a smile, "I believe I removed it sufficiently on our firstmeeting to leave you no doubt as to the use to which your informationwill be put. "

Gamba, who seemed touched by this appeal, nevertheless hesitated beforereplying. At length he said: "I have the fullest trust in yourexcellency's honour; but I must remind you that during your stay hereyou will be under the closest observation and that any opinions youexpress will at once be attributed to the persons you are known tofrequent. I would not, " he continued hastily, "say this for myselfalone, but I have two mouths to feed and my views are already undersuspicion. "

Reassured by Odo's protestations, or rather, perhaps, by the moreconvincing warrant of his look and manner, Gamba proceeded to give him adetailed description of the little world in which chance had placedthem. 

"If you have seen the Duke, " said he, "I need not tell you that it isnot he who governs the duchy. We are ruled at present by a triumvirateconsisting of the Belverde, the Dominican and Trescorre. Pievepelago, the Prime Minister, is a dummy put in place by the Jesuits and keptthere by the rivalries of the other three; but he is in his dotage andthe courtiers are already laying wagers as to his successor. Many thinkFather Ignazio will replace him, but I stake my faith on Trescorre. TheDuke dislikes him, but he is popular with the middle class, who, sincethey have shaken off the yoke of the Jesuits, would not willingly see anecclesiastic at the head of the state. The duchess's influence is alsoagainst the Dominican, for her Highness, being, as you know, connectedwith the Austrian court, is by tradition unfavourable to the Churchparty. The Duchess's preferences would weigh little with the Duke wereit not that she is sole heiress to the old Duke of Monte Alloro, andthat any attempt to bring that principality under the control of theHoly See might provoke the interference of Austria. 

"In so ticklish a situation I see none but Trescorre to maintain thepolitical balance. He has been adroit enough to make himself necessaryto the Duchess without alienating the Duke; he has introduced one or twotrifling reforms that have given him a name for liberality in spite ofthe heavy taxes with which he has loaded the peasantry; and has in shortso played his cards as to profit by the foibles of both parties. HerHighness, " he continued, in reply to a question of Odo's, "was muchtaken by him when she first came to Pianura; and before her feeling hadcooled he had contrived to make himself indispensable to her. TheDuchess is always in debt; and Trescorre, as Comptroller of Finance, holds her by her besetting weakness. Before his appointment herextravagance was the scandal of the town. She borrowed from her ladies, her pages, her very lacqueys; when she went on a visit to her uncle ofMonte Alloro she pocketed the money he bestowed on her servants; nay, she was even accused of robbing the Marchioness of Pievepelago, who, having worn one evening a diamond necklace which excited her Highness'sadmiration, was waylaid on the way home and the jewels torn from herneck by a crowd of masked ruffians among whom she is said to haverecognised one of the ducal servants. These are doubtless idle reports;but it is certain that Trescorre's appointment engaged him still more tothe Duchess by enabling him to protect her from such calumnies; while byincreasing the land taxes he has discharged the worst of her debts andthus made himself popular with the tradesmen she had ruined. Yourexcellency must excuse my attempting to paint the private character ofher Highness. Such facts as I have reported are of public notoriety, butto exceed them would be an unwarranted presumption. I know she has thename of being affable to her dependents, capable of a fitful generosity, and easily moved by distress; and it is certain that her domesticsituation has been one to excite pity and disarm criticism. 

"With regard to his Highness, it is difficult either to detect hismotives or to divine his preferences. His youth was spent in piouspractices; and a curious reason is given for the origin of this habit. He was educated, as your excellency is doubtless aware, by a Frenchphilosopher of the school of Hobbes; and it is said that in the intervalof his tasks the poor Duke, bewildered by his governor's distinctionsbetween conception and cognition, and the object and the sentient, usedto spend his time praying the saints to assist him in his atheisticalstudies; indeed a satire of the day ascribes him as making a novena tothe Virgin to obtain a clearer understanding of the universality ofmatter. Others with more likelihood aver that he frequented the churchesto escape from the tyranny of his pedagogue; and it is certain that fromone cause or another his education threw him into the opposite extremeof a superstitious and mechanical piety. His marriage, his differenceswith the Duchess, and the evil influence of Cerveno, exposed him to newtemptations, and for a time he led a life which seemed to justify theworst charges of the enemies of materialism. Recent events have flunghim back on the exaggerated devotion of his youth, and now, when hishealth permits, he spends his time serving mass, singing in the choir atbenediction and making pilgrimages to the relics of the saints in thedifferent churches of the duchy. 

"A few years since, at the instigation of his confessor, he destroyedevery picture in the ducal gallery that contained any naked figure orrepresented any subject offensive to religion. Among them was Titian'sfamous portrait of Duke Ascanio's mistress, known as the Goldsmith'sDaughter, and a Venus by the Venetian painter Giorgione, so highlyesteemed in its day that Pope Leo X. Is said to have offered in exchangefor it the gift of a papal benefice, and a Cardinal's hat for DukeGuidobaldo's younger son. His Highness, moreover, impedes theadministration of justice by resisting all attempts to restrict theChurch's right of sanctuary, and upholds the decree forbidding hissubjects to study at the University of Pavia, where, as you know, thenatural sciences are professed by the ablest scholars of Italy. Heallows no public duties to interfere with his private devotions, andwhatever the urgency of affairs, gives no audience to his ministers onholydays; and a Cardinal a latere recently passing through the duchy onhis return to Rome was not received at the Duke's table because hechanced to arrive on a Friday. 

"His Highness's fears for Prince Ferrante's health have drawn a swarm ofquacks to Pianura, and the influence of the Church is sometimescounteracted by that of the physicians with whom the Duke surroundshimself. The latest of these, the famous Count Heiligenstern, who issaid to have performed some remarkable cures by means of the electricalfluid and of animal magnetism, has gained such an ascendancy over theDuke that some suspect him of being an agent of the Austrian court, while others declare that he is a Jesuit en robe courte. But just atpresent the people scent a Jesuit under every habit, and it is evenrumoured that the Belverde is secretly affiliated to a female branch ofthe Society. With such a sovereign and such ministers, your excellencyneed not be told how the state is governed. Trescorre, heaven save themark! represents the liberal party; but his liberalism is like thegenerosity of the unarmed traveller who throws his purse to a foot-pad;and Father Ignazio is at hand to see that the people are not bettered atthe expense of the Church. 

"As to the Duke, having no settled policy, and being governed onlythrough his fears, he leans first to one influence and then to another;but since the suppression of the Jesuits nothing can induce him toattack any ecclesiastical privileges. The diocese of Pianura holds afief known as the Caccia del Vescovo, long noted as the most lawlessdistrict of the duchy. Before the death of the late Pope, Trescorre hadprevailed on the Duke to annex it to the principality; but the dreadfulfate of Ganganelli has checked bolder sovereigns than his Highness intheir attempts on the immunities of the Church, and one of the fairestregions of our unhappy state remains a barren waste, the lair of outlawsand assassins, and a menace to the surrounding country. His Highness isnot incapable of generous impulses and his occasional acts of humanitymight endear him to his people were it not that they despise him forbeing the creature of his favourites. Thus, the gift of Boscofolto tothe Belverde has excited the bitterest discontent; for the Countess isnotorious for her cruel exactions, and it is certain that at her deaththis rich fief will revert to the Church. And now, " Gamba ended with asmile, "I have made known to your excellency the chief characters in themasque, as rumour depicts them to the vulgar. As to the court, like thegovernment, it is divided into two parties: the Duke's, headed by theBelverde, and containing the staider and more conservative members ofthe Church and nobility; and the Duchess's, composed of every fribbleand flatterer, every gamester and rake, every intriguing woman andvulgar parvenu that can worm a way into her favour. In such anatmosphere you may fancy how knowledge thrives. The Duke's libraryconsists of a few volumes of theological casuistry, and her Highnessnever opens a book unless it be to scandalise her husband by readingsome prohibited pamphlet from France. The University, since the fall ofthe Jesuits, has been in charge of the Barnabite order, and, for aught Iknow, the Ptolemaic system is still taught there, together with thedialectic of Aristotle. As to science, it is anathema; and the pressbeing subject to the restrictions of the Holy Office, and the Universityclosed to modern thought, but few scholars are to be found in the duchy, save those who occupy themselves with belles-lettres, or, like the abateCrescenti, are engaged in historical research. Pianura, even in the lateDuke's day, had its circle of lettered noblemen who patronised the artsand founded the local Arcadia; but such pursuits are out of fashion, theArcadia languishes, and the Bishop of Pianura is the only dignitary thatstill plays the Mecaenas. His lordship, whose theological laxity andcoolness toward the Holy Office have put him out of favour with theDuke, has, I am told, a fine cabinet of paintings (some of them, it isrumoured, the very pictures that his Highness ordered to be burnt) andthe episcopal palace swarms with rhyming abatini, fashionableplaywrights and musicians, and the travelling archeologists who hawktheir antiques about from one court to another. Here you may assist atinterminable disputes as to the relative merits of Tasso and Ariosto, orlisten to a learned dissertation on the verse engraved on a carnelianstone; but as to the questions now agitating the world, they are held ofless account than a problem in counterpoint or the construction of adoubtful line in Ovid. As long as Truth goes naked she can scarce hopeto be received in good company; and her appearance would probably causeas much confusion among the Bishop's literati as in the councils of theHoly Office. "

The old analogy likening the human mind to an imperfect mirror, whichmodifies the images it reflects, occurred more than once to Odo duringthe hunchback's lively delineation. It was impossible not to rememberthat the speaker owed his education to the charity of the order hedenounced; and this fact suggested to Odo that the other lights andshadows in the picture might be disposed with more art than accuracy. Still, they doubtless embodied a negative truth, and Odo thought itprobable that such intellectual diversion as he could hope for must besought in the Bishop's circle. 

It was two days later that he first beheld that prelate, heading theducal pilgrimage to the shrine of the mountain Virgin. The day hadopened with a confused flight of chimes from every bell-tower inPianura, as though a migratory flock of notes had settled for a momenton the roofs and steeples of the city. The ducal party set forth earlyfrom the palace, but the streets were already spanned with arches andgarlands of foliage, tapestries and religious paintings decked thefacades of the wealthier houses, and at every street-shrine a cluster ofcandle-flames hovered like yellow butterflies above the freshly-gatheredflowers. The windows were packed with spectators, and the crowds whointended to accompany the pilgrimage were already gathering, with theirpainted and gilt candles, from every corner of the town. Each church andmonastery door poured forth its priests or friars to swell the line, andthe various lay confraternities, issuing in their distinctive dress fromtheir "lodges" or assembly-rooms, formed a link between the secular andreligious divisions of the procession. The market-place was strewn withsand and sweet herbs; and here, on the doorsteps of the Cathedral, between the featureless porphyry lions, the Bishop waited with hisred-robed chapter, and the deacons carrying the painted banners of thediocese. Seen thus, with the cloth-of-gold dalmatic above his pontificaltunic, the mitre surmounting his clear-cut impassive face, and thecrozier held aloft in his jewelled gloves, he might have stood for achryselephantine divinity in the porch of some pagan temple. 

Odo, riding beside the Duke's litter, had leisure to note not only thediverse features of the procession but their varying effect on thespectators. It was plain that, as Trescorre had said, the pilgrimage waspopular with the people. That imaginative sensuousness which hasperpetually renewed the Latin Church by giving form and colour to herdogmatic abstractions, by transforming every successive phase of herbelief into something to be seen and handled, found an irresistibleoutlet in a ceremony that seemed to combine with its devotional intent asecret element of expiation. The little prince was dimly felt to bepaying for the prodigality of his fathers, to be in some way a link ofsuffering between the tongue-tied misery of the fields and the insolentsplendour of the court; and a vague faith in the vicarious efficacy ofhis devotion drew the crowd into momentary sympathy with its rulers. Yetthis was but an underlying element in the instinctive delight of thepeople in the outward forms of their religion. Odo's late experienceshad wakened him to the influences acting on that obscure substratum ofhuman life that still seemed, to most men of his rank, of no moreaccount than the brick lining of their marble-coated palaces. As hewatched the mounting excitement of the throng, and pictured to himselfthe lives suddenly lit up by this pledge of unseen promises, he wonderedthat the enemies of the Church should ascribe her predominance to anycause but the natural needs of the heart. The people lived in unlithovels, for there was a tax on mental as well as on material windows;but here was a light that could pierce the narrowest crevice and scatterthe darkness with a single ray. 

Odo noted with equal interest the impression produced by the variousmembers of the court and the Church dignitaries. The Duke's litter wascoldly received, but a pitying murmur widened about the gilt chair inwhich Prince Ferrante was seated at his governor's side, and theapproach of Trescorre, mounted on a fine horse and dressed with hisusual sober elegance, woke a shout that made him for a moment thecentral figure of the procession. The Bishop was none too warmlywelcomed; but when Crescenti appeared, white-haired and erect among theparish priests, the crowd swayed toward him like grasses in the suctionof a current; and one of the Duke's gentlemen, seeing Odo's surprise, said with a smile: "No one does more good in Pianura than our learnedlibrarian. "

A different and still more striking welcome awaited the Duchess, whopresently appeared on her favourite white hackney, surrounded by themembers of her household. Her reluctance to take part in the pilgrimagehad been overcome by the exhilaration of showing herself to the public, and as she rode along in her gold-embroidered habit and plumed hat shewas just such an image of radiant and indulgent sovereignty as turnsenforced submission into a romantic allegiance. Her flushing cheek andkindled eye showed the reaction of the effect she produced, and if hersubjects forgot her debts, her violences and follies, she was perhapsmomentarily transformed into the being their enthusiasm created. She wasat any rate keenly alive to the admiration she excited and eager toenhance it by those showy impulses of benevolence that catch the publiceye; as when, at the city gates, she stopped her horse to intervene inbehalf of a soldier who had been put under arrest for some slightinfraction of duty, and then rode on enveloped in the passionateshouting of the crowd. 

The shrine at which the young prince was to pay his devotions stood justbeyond the city, on the summit of one of the low knolls which pass forhills in the level landscape of Pianura. The white-columned church withits classical dome and portico had been erected as a thank-offeringafter the plague of 1630, and the nave was lined with life-sized votivefigures of Dukes and Duchesses clad in the actual wigs and robes thathad dressed their transient grandeur. As the procession wound into thechurch, to the ringing of bells and the chanting of the choir, Odo wasstruck by the spectacle of that line of witnesses, watching inglassy-eyed irony the pomp and display to which their moldering robesand tarnished insignia seemed to fix so brief a term. Once or twicealready he had felt the shows of human power as no more than vanishingreflections on the tide of being; and now, as he knelt near the shrine, with its central glitter of jewels and its nimbus of wavering lights, and listened to the reiterated ancient wail:

 "Mater inviolata, ora pro nobis! Virgo veneranda, ora pro nobis! Speculum justitiae, ora pro nobis!"

it seemed to him as though the bounds of life and death were merged, andthe sumptuous group of which he formed a part already dusted over withoblivion. 

2. 13. 

Spite of the Mountain Madonna's much-vaunted powers, the first effect ofthe pilgrimage was to provoke a serious indisposition in the Duke. Exhausted by fasting and emotion, he withdrew to his apartments and forseveral days denied himself to all but Heiligenstern, who was suspectedby some of suffering his patient's disorder to run its course with aview to proving the futility of such remedies. This break in hisintercourse with his kinsman left Odo free to take the measure of hisnew surroundings. The company most naturally engaging him was that whichsurrounded the Duchess; but he soon wearied of the trivial diversions itoffered. It had ever been necessary to him that his pleasures shouldtouch the imagination as well as the senses; and with such refinement ofenjoyment the gallants of Pianura were unacquainted. Odo indeedperceived with a touch of amusement that, in a society where DonSerafino set the pace, he must needs lag behind his own lacquey. Cantapresto had, in fact, been hailed by the Bishop's nephew with acordiality that proclaimed them old associates in folly; and thesoprano's manner seemed to declare that, if ever he had held the candlefor Don Serafino, he did not grudge the grease that might have droppedon his cassock. He was soon prime favourite and court buffoon in theDuchess's circle, organising pleasure-parties, composing scenarios forher Highness's private theatre, and producing at court any comedian orjuggler the report of whose ability reached him from the market-place. Indefatigable in the contriving of such diversions, he soon virtuallypassed out of Odo's service into that of her Highness: a circumstancewhich the young man the less regretted as it left him freer to cultivatethe acquaintance of Gamba and his friends without exposing them toCantapresto's espionage. 

Odo had felt himself specially drawn toward the abate Crescenti; and theafternoon after their first meeting he had repaired to the librarian'sdwelling. Crescenti was the priest of an ancient parish lying near thefortress; and his tiny house was wedged in an angle of the city walls, like a bird's nest in the mouth of a disused canon. A long flight ofsteps led up to his study, which on the farther side opened level with avine-shaded patch of herbs and damask roses in the projection of aruined bastion. This interior, the home of studious peace, was ascheerful and well-ordered as its inmate's mind; and Odo, seated underthe vine pergola in the late summer light, and tasting the abate's ValPulicella while he turned over the warped pages of old codes andchronicles, felt the stealing charm of a sequestered life. 

He had learned from Gamba that Crescenti was a faithful parish priest aswell as an assiduous scholar, but he saw that the librarian'sbeneficence took that purely personal form which may coexist with aserene acceptance of the general evils underlying particular hardships. His charities were performed in the old unquestioning spirit of theRoman distribution of corn; and doubtless the good man who carries hisloaf of bread and his word of hope into his neighbour's hovel reaps amore tangible return than the lonely thinker who schemes to underminethe strongholds of injustice. Still there was a perplexing contrastbetween the superficiality of Crescenti's moral judgments and thebreadth and penetration of his historic conceptions. Odo was tooinexperienced to reflect that a man's sense of the urgency ofimprovement lies mainly in the line of his talent: as the merchant ispersuaded that the roads most in need of mending are those on which hisbusiness makes him travel. Odo himself was already conscious of livingin a many-windowed house, with outlooks diverse enough to justify morethan one view of the universe; but he had no conception of thatconcentration of purpose that may make the mind's flight to its goal asdirect and unvarying as the course of a homing bird. The talk turning onGamba, Crescenti spoke of the help which the hunchback gave him in hiswork among the poor. 

"His early hardships, " said he, "have given him an insight intocharacter that my happier circumstances have denied me; and he has morethan once been the means of reclaiming some wretch that I despaired of. Unhappily, his parts and learning are beyond his station, and will notlet him rest in the performance of his duties. His mind, I often tellhim, is like one of those inn parlours hung with elaborate maps of thethree Heretical Cities; whereas the only topography with which thevirtuous traveller need be acquainted is that of the Heavenly City towhich all our journeyings should tend. The soundness of his heartreassures me as to this distemper of the reason; but others are lessfamiliar with his good qualities and I tremble for the risks to whichhis rashness may expose him. "

The librarian went on to say that Gamba had a pretty poetical gift whichhe was suspected of employing in the composition of anonymous satires onthe court, the government and the Church. At that period every Italiantown was as full of lampoons as a marsh of mosquitoes, and it was asdifficult in the one case as the other for the sufferer to detect thespecific cause of his sting. The moment in Italy was a strange one. Thetide of reform had been turned back by the very act devised to hastenit: the suppression of the Society of Jesus. The shout of liberationthat rose over the downfall of the order had sunk to a guarded whisper. The dark legend already forming around Ganganelli's death, the hint ofthat secret liquor distilled for the order's use in a certain convent ofPerugia, hung like a menace on the political horizon; and the disbandedSociety seemed to have tightened its hold on the public conscience as adying man's clutch closes on his victorious enemy. 

So profoundly had the Jesuits impressed the world with the sense oftheir mysterious power that they were felt to be like one of thoseanimal organisms which, when torn apart, carry on a separate existencein every fragment. Ganganelli's bull had provided against their exertingany political influence, or controlling opinion as confessors or aspublic educators; but they were known to be everywhere in Italy, eitherhidden in other orders, or acting as lay agents of foreign powers, astutors in private families, or simply as secular priests. Even theconfiscation of their wealth did not seem to diminish the popular senseof their strength. Perhaps because that strength had never beencompletely explained, even by their immense temporal advantages, it wasfelt to be latent in themselves, and somehow capable of withstandingevery kind of external assault. They had moreover benefited by thereaction which always follows on the breaking up of any greatorganisation. Their detractors were already beginning to forget theirfaults and remember their merits. The people had been taught to hate theSociety as the possessor of wealth and privileges which should have beentheirs; but when the Society fell its possessions were absorbed by theother powers, and in many cases the people suffered from abuses andmaladministration which they had not known under their Jesuit landlords. The aristocracy had always been in sympathy with the order, and in manystates the Jesuits had been banished simply as a measure of politicalexpediency, a sop to the restless masses. In these cases the latentpower of the order was concealed rather than diminished by the pretenceof a more liberal government, and everywhere, in one form or another, the unseen influence was felt to be on the watch for those who dared totriumph over it too soon. 

Such conditions fostered the growth of social satire. Constructiveambition was forced back into its old disguises, and ridicule ofindividual weaknesses replaced the general attack on beliefs andinstitutions. Satirical poems in manuscript passed from hand to hand incoffee-houses, casinos and drawing-rooms, and every conspicuous incidentin social or political life was borne on a biting quatrain to theconfines of the state. The Duke's gift of Boscofolto to the CountessBelverde had stirred up a swarm of epigrams, and the most malignantamong them, Crescenti averred, were openly ascribed to Gamba. 

"A few more imprudences, " he added, "must cost him his post; and if yourexcellency has any influence with him I would urge its being used torestrain him from such excesses. "

Odo, on taking his leave of the librarian, ran across Gamba at the firststreet-corner; and they had not proceeded a dozen yards together whenthe eye of the Duke's kinsman fell on a snatch of doggerel scrawled inchalk on an adjacent wall. 

 "Beware (the quatrain ran) O virtuous wife or maid, Our ruler's fondness for the shade, Lest first he woo thee to the leafy glade And then into the deeper wood persuade. "

This crude play on the Belverde's former title and the one she hadrecently acquired was signed "Carlo Gamba. "

Odo glanced curiously at the hunchback, who met the look with a composedsmile. "My enemies don't do me justice, " said he; "I could do betterthan that if I tried;" and he effaced the words with a sweep of hisshabby sleeve. 

Other lampoons of the same quality were continually cropping up on thewalls of Pianura, and the ducal police were kept as busy rubbing themout as a band of weeders digging docks out of a garden. The Duchess'sdebts, the Duke's devotions, the Belverde's extortions, Heiligenstern'smummery, and the political rivalry between Trescorre and the Dominican, were sauce to the citizen's daily bread; but there was nothing in thesepopular satires to suggest the hunchback's trenchant irony. 

It was in the Bishop's palace that Odo read the first lampoon in whichhe recognised his friend's touch. In this society of polished dilettantisuch documents were valued rather for their literary merits than fortheir political significance; and the pungent lines in which the Duke'spanaceas were hit off (the Belverde figuring among them as a Lentendiet, a dinner of herbs, and a wonder-working bone) caused a flutter ofprofessional envy in the episcopal circle. 

The Bishop received company every evening; and Odo soon found that, asGamba had said, it was the best company in Pianura. His lordship livedin great state in the Gothic palace adjoining the Cathedral. The gloomyvaulted rooms of the original structure had been abandoned to the smallfry of the episcopal retinue. In the chambers around the courtyard hislordship drove a thriving trade in wines from his vineyards, while hisclients awaited his pleasure in the armoury, where the panoplies of hisfighting predecessors still rusted on the walls. Behind this facade alater prelate had built a vast wing overlooking a garden which descendedby easy terraces to the Piana. In the high-studded apartments of thiswing the Bishop held his court and lived the life of a wealthy secularnobleman. His days were agreeably divided between hunting, inspectinghis estates, receiving the visits of antiquarians, artists and literati, and superintending the embellishments of his gardens, then the mostfamous in North Italy; while his evenings were given to the more privatediversions which his age and looks still justified. In religiousceremonies or in formal intercourse with his clergy he was the mostimposing and sacerdotal of bishops; but in private life none knew betterhow to disguise his cloth. He was moreover a man of parts, and from theconstruction of a Latin hexameter to the growing of a Holland bulb, hada word worth hearing on all subjects likely to engage the dilettante. Aliking soon sprang up between Odo and this versatile prelate; and in theretirement of his lordship's cabinet, or pacing with him thegarden-alleys set with ancient marbles, the young man gathered manyprecepts of that philosophy of pleasure which the great churchmen of theeighteenth century practised with such rare completeness. 

The Bishop had not, indeed, given much thought to the problems whichmost deeply engaged his companion. His theory of life took no account ofthe future and concerned itself little with social conditions outsidehis own class; but he was acquainted with the classical schools ofthought, and, having once acted as the late Duke's envoy to the Frenchcourt, had frequented the Baron d'Holbach's drawing-room andfamiliarised himself with the views of the Encyclopaedists; though itwas clear that he valued their teachings chiefly as an argument againstasceticism. 

"Life, " said he to Odo, as they sat one afternoon in a garden-pavilionabove the river, a marble Mercury confronting them at the end of a vistaof clipped myrtle, "life, cavaliere, is a stock on which we may graftwhat fruit or flower we choose. See the orange-tree in that Capo diMonte jar: in a week or two it will be covered with red roses. Hereagain is a citron set with carnations; and but yesterday my gardenersent me word that he had at last succeeded in flowering a pomegranatewith jasmine. In such cases the gardener chooses as his graft the flowerwhich, by its colour and fragrance, shall most agreeably contrast withthe original stock; and he who orders his life on the same principle, grafting it with pleasures that form a refreshing off-set to theobligations of his rank and calling, may regard himself as justified byNature, who, as you see, smiles on such abnormal unions among herchildren. --Not long ago, " he went on, with a reminiscent smile, "I hadhere under my roof a young person who practised to perfection this artof engrafting life with the unexpected. Though she was only a player ina strolling company--a sweetheart of my wild nephew's, as you mayguess--I have met few of her sex whose conversation was so instructiveor who so completely justified the Scriptural adage, "the sweetness ofthe lips increaseth learning... " He broke off to sip his chocolate. "Butwhy, " he continued, "do I talk thus to a young man whose path is linedwith such opportunities? The secret of happiness is to say with thegreat Emperor, 'Everything is fruit to me which thy seasons bring, ONature. '"

"Such a creed, monsignore, " Odo ventured to return, "is as flattering tothe intelligence as to the senses; for surely it better becomes areasoning being to face fate as an equal than to cower before it like aslave; but, since you have opened yourself so freely on the subject, mayI carry your argument a point farther and ask how you reconcile yourconception of man's destiny with the authorised teachings of theChurch?"

The Bishop raised his head with a guarded glance. 

"Cavaliere, " said he, "the ancients did not admit the rabble to theirsacred mysteries; nor dare we permit the unlettered to enter thehollowed precincts of the temple of Reason. "

"True, " Odo acquiesced; "but if the teachings of Christianity are thebest safeguard of the people, should not those teachings at least bestripped of the grotesque excrescences with which the superstitions ofthe people and--perhaps--the greed and craft of the priesthood havesmothered the simple precepts of Jesus?"

The Bishop shrugged his shoulders. "As long, " said he, "as the peopleneed the restraint of a dogmatic religion so long must we do our utmostto maintain its outward forms. In our market-place on feast-days thereappears the strange figure of a man who carries a banner painted with animage of Saint Paul surrounded by a mass of writhing serpents. This mancalls himself a descendant of the apostle and sells to our peasants themiraculous powder with which he killed the great serpent at Malta. If itwere not for the banner, the legend, the descent from Saint Paul, howmuch efficacy do you think those powders would have? And how long do youthink the precepts of an invisible divinity would restrain the evilpassions of an ignorant peasant? It is because he is afraid of theplaster God in his parish church, and of the priest who represents thatGod, that he still pays his tithes and forfeitures and keeps his handsfrom our throats. By Diana, " cried the Bishop, taking snuff, "I have nopatience with those of my calling who go about whining for apostolicsimplicity, and would rob the churches of their ornaments and thefaithful of their ceremonies. 

"For my part, " he added, glancing with a smile about thedelicately-stuccoed walls of the pavilion, through the windows of whichclimbing roses shed their petals on the rich mosaics transferred from aRoman bath, "for my part, when I remember that 'tis to Jesus of NazarethI owe the good roof over my head and the good nags in my stable; nay, the very venison and pheasants from my preserves, with the gold plate Ieat them off, and above all the leisure to enjoy as they deserve theseexcellent gifts of the Creator--when I consider this, I say, I standamazed at those who would rob so beneficent a deity of the least of hisprivileges. --But why, " he continued again after a moment, as Odoremained silent, "should we vex ourselves with such questions, whenProvidence has given us so fair a world to enjoy and such variedfaculties with which to apprehend its beauties? I think you have notseen the Venus Callipyge in bronze that I have lately received fromRome?" And he rose and led the way to the house. 

This conversation revealed to Odo a third conception of the religiousidea. In Piedmont religion imposed itself as a military discipline, theenforced duty of the Christian citizen to the heavenly state; to theDuke it was a means of purchasing spiritual immunity from theconsequences of bodily weakness; to the Bishop, it replaced the panem etcircenses of ancient Rome. Where, in all this, was the share of thosewhom Christ had come to save? Where was Saint Francis's devotion to hisheavenly bride, the Lady Poverty? Though here and there a good parishpriest like Crescenti ministered to the temporal wants of the peasantry, it was only the free-thinker and the atheist who, at the risk of lifeand fortune, laboured for their moral liberation. Odo listened with asaddened heart, thinking, as he followed his host through the perfumedshade of the gardens, and down the long saloon at the end of which theVenus stood, of those who for the love of man had denied themselves suchdelicate emotions and gone forth cheerfully to exile or imprisonment. These were the true lovers of the Lady Poverty, the band in which helonged to be enrolled; yet how restrain a thrill of delight as theslender dusky goddess detached herself against the cool marble of herniche, looking, in the sun-rippled green penumbra of the saloon, with asound of water falling somewhere out of sight, as though she had juststepped dripping from the wave?

In the Duchess's company life struck another gait. Here was no waitingon subtle pleasures, but a headlong gallop after the cruder sort. Hunting, gaming and masquerading filled her Highness's days; and Odo hadfelt small inclination to keep pace with the cavalcade, but for theflying huntress at its head. To the Duchess's "view halloo" every dropof blood in him responded; but a vigilant image kept his bosom barred. So they rode, danced, diced together, but like strangers who cross handsat a veglione. Once or twice he fancied the Duchess was for unmasking;but her impulses came and went like fireflies in the dusk, and it suitedhis humour to remain a looker-on. 

So life piped to him during his first days at Pianura: a merry tune inthe Bishop's company, a mad one in the Duchess's; but always with thesame sad undertone, like the cry of the wind on a warm threshold. 

2. 14. 

Trescorre too kept open house, and here Odo found a warmer welcome thanhe had expected. Though Trescorre was still the Duchess's accreditedlover, it was clear that the tie between them was no longer such as tomake him resent her kindness to her young kinsman. He seemed indeedanxious to draw Odo into her Highness's circle, and surprised him by afrankness and affability of which his demeanour at Turin had given nopromise. As leader of the anti-clericals he stood for such liberalism asdared show its head in Pianura; and he seemed disposed to invite Odo'sconfidence in political matters. The latter was, however, too much thechild of his race not to hang back from such an invitation. He did notdistrust Trescorre more than the other courtiers; but it was a time whenevery ear was alert for the foot-fall of treachery, and the rashest mandid not care to taste first of any cup that was offered him. 

These scruples Trescorre made it his business to dispel. He was the onlyperson at court who was willing to discuss politics, and his clear viewof affairs excited Odo's admiration if not his concurrence. Odo's was infact one of those dual visions which instinctively see both sides of acase and take the defence of the less popular. Gamba's principles weredear to him; but he did not therefore believe in the personal basenessof every opponent of the cause. He had refrained from mentioning thehunchback to his supposed brother; but the latter, in one of theirtalks, brought forward Gamba's name, without reference to therelationship, but with high praise for the young librarian's parts. This, at the moment, put Odo on his guard; but Trescorre having one daybegged him to give Gamba warning of some petty danger that threatenedhim from the clerical side, it became difficult not to believe in aninterest so attested; the more so as Trescorre let it be seen thatGamba's political views were not such as to distract from his sympathy. 

"The fellow's brains, " said he, "would be of infinite use to me; butperhaps he serves us best at a distance. All I ask is that he shall notrisk himself too near Father Ignazio's talons, for he would be a prettymorsel to throw to the Holy Office, and the weak point of such a man'sposition is that, however dangerous in life, he can threaten no one fromthe grave. "

Odo reported this to Gamba, who heard with a two-edged smile. "Yes, " washis comment, "he fears me enough to want to see me safe in his fold. "

Odo flushed at the implication. "And why not?" said he. "Could you notserve the cause better by attaching yourself openly to the liberals thanby lurking in the ditch to throw mud at both parties?"

"The liberals!" sneered Gamba. "Where are they? And what have they done?It was they who drove out the Jesuits; but to whom did the Society'slands go? To the Duke, every acre of them! And the peasantry sufferedfar less under the fathers, who were good agriculturists, than under theDuke, who is too busy with monks and astrologers to give his mind toirrigation or the reclaiming of waste land. As to the University, whoreplaced the Jesuits there? Professors from Padua or Pavia? Heavenforbid! But holy Barnabites that have scarce Latin enough to spell outthe Lives of the Saints! The Jesuits at least gave a good education tothe upper classes; but now the young noblemen are as ignorant aspeasants. "

Trescorre received at his house, besides the court functionaries, allthe liberal faction and the Duchess's personal friends. He kept a lavishstate, but lacking the Bishop's social gifts, was less successful infusing the different elements of his circle. The Duke, for the first fewweeks after his kinsman's arrival, received no company; and did not evenappear in the Belverde's drawing-rooms; but Odo deemed it none the lesspolitic to show himself there without delay. 

The new Marchioness of Boscofolto lived in one of the finest palaces ofPianura, but prodigality was the least of her failings, and themeagreness of her hospitality was an unfailing source of epigram to thedrawing-rooms of the opposition. True, she kept open table for half theclergy in the town (omitting, of course, those worldly ecclesiastics whofrequented the episcopal palace), but it was whispered that she hadpersuaded her cook to take half wages in return for the privilege ofvictualling such holy men, and that the same argument enabled her toobtain her provisions below the market price. In her outer ante-chamberthe servants yawned dismally over a cold brazier, without so much as agame of cards to divert them, and the long enfilade of saloons leadingto her drawing-room was so scantily lit that her guests could scarcerecognise each other in passing. In the room where she sat, a tallcrucifix of ebony and gold stood at her elbow and a holy-water cupencrusted with jewels hung on the wall at her side. A dozen or moreecclesiastics were always gathered in stiff seats about the hearth; andthe aspect of the apartment, and the Marchioness's semi-monasticcostume, justified the nickname of "the sacristy, " which the Duchess hadbestowed on her rival's drawing-room. 

Around the small fire on this cheerless hearth the fortunes of the statewere discussed and directed, benefices disposed of, court appointmentsdebated, and reputations made and unmade in tones that suggested the lowdrone of a group of canons intoning the psalter in an empty cathedral. The Marchioness, who appeared as eager as the others to win Odo to herparty, received him with every mark of consideration and pressed him toaccompany her on a visit to her brother, the Abbot of the Barnabites; aninvitation which he accepted with the more readiness as he had notforgotten the part played by that religious in the adventure ofMirandolina of Chioggia. 

He found the Abbot a man with a bland intriguing eye and centuries ofpious leisure in his voice. He received his visitors in a room hung withsmoky pictures of the Spanish school, showing Saint Jerome in thewilderness, the death of Saint Peter Martyr, and other sanguinarypassages in the lives of the saints; and Odo, seated among suchsurroundings, and hearing the Abbot deplore the loose lives andreligious negligence of certain members of the court, could scarcerepress a smile as the thought of Mirandolina flitted through his mind. 

"She must, " he reflected, "have found this a sad change from theBishop's palace;" and admired with what philosophy she had passed fromone protector to the other. 

Life in Pianura, after the first few weeks, seemed on the whole a tamebusiness to a youth of his appetite; and he secretly longed for apretext to resume his travels. None, however, seemed likely to offer;for it was clear that the Duke, in the interval of more pressingconcerns, wished to study and observe his kinsman. When sufficientlyrecovered from the effects of the pilgrimage, he sent for Odo andquestioned him closely as to the way in which he had spent his timesince coming to Pianura, the acquaintances he had formed and thechurches he had frequented. Odo prudently dwelt on the lofty tone of theBelverde's circle, and on the privilege he had enjoyed in attending heron a visit to the holy Abbot of the Barnabites; touching more lightly onhis connection with the Bishop, and omitting all mention of Gamba andCrescenti. The Duke assumed a listening air, but it was clear that hecould not put off his private thoughts long enough to give an open mindto other matters; and Odo felt that he was nowhere so secure as in hiscousin's company. He remembered, however, that the Duke had plenty ofeyes to replace his own, and that a secret which was safe in his actualpresence might be in mortal danger on his threshold. 

His Highness on this occasion was pleased to inform his kinsman that hehad ordered Count Trescorre to place at the young man's disposal anincome enabling him to keep a carriage and pair, four saddle-horses andfive servants. It was scant measure for an heir-presumptive, and Odowondered if the Belverde had had a hand in the apportionment; but hisindifference to such matters (for though personally fastidious he caredlittle for display) enabled him to show such gratitude that the Duke, fancying he might have been content with less, had nearly withdrawn twoof the saddle-horses. This becoming behaviour greatly advanced the youngman in the esteem of his Highness, who accorded him on the spot thepetites entrees of the ducal apartments. It was a privilege Odo had nomind to abuse; for if life moved slowly in the Belverde's circle it wasat a standstill in the Duke's. His Highness never went abroad but toserve mass in some church (his almost daily practice) or to visit one ofthe numerous monasteries within the city. From Ash Wednesday to EasterMonday it was his custom to transact no public or private business. During this time he received none of his ministers, and saw his son butfor a few moments once a day; while in Holy Week he made a retreat withthe Barnabites, the Belverde withdrawing for the same period to theconvent of the Perpetual Adoration. 

Odo, as his new life took shape, found his chief interest in the societyof Crescenti and Gamba. In the Duchess's company he might have lost alltaste for soberer pleasures, but that his political sympathies wore agirl's reproachful shape. Ever at his side, more vividly than in thebody, Fulvia Vivaldi became the symbol of his best aims and deepestfailure. Sometimes, indeed, her look drove him forth in the Duchess'strain, but more often, drawing him from the crowd of pleasure-seekers, beckoned the way to solitude and study. Under Crescenti's tuition hebegan the reading of Dante, who just then, after generations of neglect, was once more lifting his voice above the crowd of minor singers. Themighty verse swept Odo out to open seas of thought, and from his visionof that earlier Italy, hapless, bleeding, but alive and breast to breastwith the foe, he drew the presage of his country's resurrection. 

Passing from this high music to the company of Gamba and his friends waslike leaving a church where the penitential psalms are being sung forthe market-place where mud and eggs are flying. The change was notagreeable to a fastidious taste; but, as Gamba said, you cannot cleanout a stable by waving incense over it. After some hesitation, he hadagreed to make Odo acquainted with those who, like himself, weresecretly working in the cause of progress. These were mostly of themiddle class, physicians, lawyers, and such men of letters as couldsubsist on the scant wants of an unliterary town. Ablest among them wasthe bookseller, Andreoni, whose shop was the meeting place of all theliterati of Pianura. Andreoni, famous throughout Italy for his editionsof the classics, was a man of liberal views and considerable learning, and in his private room were to be found many prohibited volumes, suchas Beccaria's Crime and Punishment, Gravina's Hydra Mystica, Concini'sHistory of Probabilism and the Amsterdam editions of the Frenchphilosophical works. 

The reformers met at various places, and their meetings were conductedwith as much secrecy as those of the Honey-Bees. Odo was at firstsurprised that they should admit him to their conferences; but he soondivined that the gatherings he attended were not those at which theprivate designs of the party were discussed. It was plain that theybelonged to some kind of secret association; and before he had been longin Pianura he learned that the society of the Illuminati, that bugbearof priests and princes, was supposed to have agents at work in theduchy. Odo had heard little of this execrated league, but that it wassaid to preach atheism, tyrannicide and the complete abolition ofterritorial rights; but this, being the report of the enemy, was to bereceived with a measure of doubt. He tried to learn from Gamba whetherthe Illuminati had a lodge in the city; but on this point he couldextract no information. Meanwhile he listened with interest todiscussions on taxation, irrigation, and such economic problems as mightsafely be aired in his presence. 

These talks brought vividly before him the political corruption of thestate and the misery of the unprivileged classes. All the land in theduchy was farmed on the metayer system, and with such ill results thatthe peasants were always in debt to their landlords. The weight of theevil lay chiefly on the country-people, who had to pay on every pig theykilled, on all the produce they carried to market, on their farmimplements, their mulberry-orchards and their silk-worms, to say nothingof the tithes to the parish. So oppressive were these obligations thatmany of the peasants, forsaking their farms, enrolled themselves in themendicant orders, thus actually strengthening the hand of theiroppressors. Of legislative redress there was no hope, and the Duke wasinaccessible to all but his favourites. The previous year, as Odolearned, eight hundred poor labourers, exasperated by want, hadpetitioned his Highness to relieve them of the corvee; but though theyhad raised fifteen hundred scudi to bribe the court official who was topresent their address, no reply had ever been received. In the cityitself, the monopoly of corn and tobacco weighed heavily on themerchants, and the strict censorship of the press made the openventilation of wrongs impossible, while the Duke's sbirri and the agentsof the Holy Office could drag a man's thoughts from his bosom and searchhis midnight dreams. The Church party, in the interest of their order, fostered the Duke's fears of sedition and branded every innovator as anatheist; the Holy Office having even cast grave doubts on the orthodoxyof a nobleman who had tried to introduce the English system of ploughingon his estates. It was evident to Odo that the secret hopes of thereformers centred in him, and the consciousness of their belief wassweeter than love in his bosom. It diverted him from the follies of hisclass, fixed his thoughts at an age when they are apt to range, and thusslowly shaped and tempered him for high uses. 

In this fashion the weeks passed and summer came. It was the Duchess'shabit to escape the August heats by retiring to the dower-house on thePiana, a league beyond the gates; but the little prince being stillunder the care of the German physician, who would not consent to hisremoval, her Highness reluctantly lingered in Pianura. With the firstleafing of the oaks Odo's old love for the budding earth awoke, and herode out daily in the forest toward Pontesordo. It was but a flatstretch of shade, lacking the voice of streams and the cold breath ofmountain-gorges: a wood without humours or surprises; but the merespring of the turf was delightful as he cantered down the grass alleysroofed with level boughs, the outer sunlight just gilding the lip of thelong green tunnel. 

Sometimes he attended the Duchess, but oftener chose to ride alone, setting forth early after a night at cards or a late vigil inCrescenti's study. One of these solitary rides brought him withoutpremeditation to a low building on the fenny edge of the wood. It was asmall house, added, it appeared, to an ancient brick front adorned withpilasters, perhaps a fragment of some woodland temple. The door-step wasovergrown with a stealthy green moss and tufted with giant fennel; and ashutter swinging loose on its hinge gave a glimpse of inner dimness. Odoguessed at once that this was the hunting lodge where Cerveno had foundhis death; and as he stood looking out across the oozy secrets of themarsh, the fever seemed to hang on his steps. He turned away with ashiver; but whether it were the sullen aspect of the house, or the closeway in which the wood embraced it, the place suddenly laid a detaininghand upon him. It was as though he had reached the heart of solitude. Even the faint woodland noises seemed to recede from that dense circleof shade, and the marsh turned a dead eye to heaven. 

Odo tethered his horse to a bough and seated himself on the doorstep;but presently his musings were disturbed by the sound of voices, and theDuchess, attended by her gentlemen, swept by at the end of a long glade. He fancied she waved her hand to him; but being in no humour to join thecavalcade, he remained seated, and the riders soon passed out of sight. As he sat there sombre thoughts came to him, stealing up likeexhalations from the fen. He saw his life stretched out before him, fullof broken purposes and ineffectual effort. Public affairs were in soperplexed a case that consistent action seemed impossible to eitherparty, and their chief efforts were bent toward directing the choice ofa regent. It was this, rather than the possibility of his accession, which fixed the general attention on Odo, and pledged him tocircumspection. While not concealing that in economic questions hissympathies were with the liberals, he had carefully abstained frompolitical action, and had hoped, by the strict observance of hisreligious duties, to avoid the enmity of the Church party. Trescorre'sundisguised sympathy seemed the pledge of liberal support, and it couldhardly be doubted that the choice of a regent in the Church party wouldbe unpopular enough to imperil the dynasty. With Austria hovering on thehorizon the Church herself was not likely to take such risks; and thusall interests seemed to centre in Odo's appointment. 

New elements of uncertainty were, however, perpetually disturbing theprospect. Among these was Heiligenstern's growing influence over theDuke. Odo had seen little of the German physician since their firstmeeting. Hearsay had it that he was close-pressed by the spies of theHoly Office, and perhaps for this reason he remained withdrawn in theDuke's private apartments and rarely showed himself abroad. The littleprince, his patient, was as seldom seen, and the accounts of theGerman's treatment were as conflicting as the other rumours of thecourt. It was noised on all sides, however, that the Duke wasill-satisfied with the results of the pilgrimage, and resolved upon lesshallowed measures to assure his heir's recovery. Hitherto, it wasbelieved, the German had conformed to the ordinary medical treatment;but the clergy now diligently spread among the people the report thatsupernatural agencies were to be employed. This rumour caused suchgeneral agitation that it was said both parties had made secret advancesto the Duchess in the hope of inducing her to stay the scandal. ThoughMaria Clementina felt little real concern for the public welfare, herstirring temper had more than once roused her to active opposition ofthe government, and her kinship with the old Duke of Monte Alloro madeher a strong factor in the political game. Of late, however, she seemedto have wearied of this sport, throwing herself entirely into theprivate diversions of her station, and alluding with laughingindifference to her husband's necromantic researches. 

Such was the conflicting gossip of the hour; but it was in fact idle toforecast the fortunes of a state dependent on a valetudinary's whims;and rumour was driven to feed upon her own conjectures. To Odo the stateof affairs seemed a satire on his secret aspirations. In a privatestation or as a ruling prince he might have served his fellows: as aprinceling on the edge of power he was no more than the cardboard swordin a toy armoury. 

Suddenly he heard his name pronounced and starting up saw MariaClementina at his side. She rode alone, and held out her hand as heapproached. 

"I have had an accident, " said she, breathing quickly. "My girth isbroke and I have lost the rest of my company. "

She was glowing with her quick ride, and as Odo lifted her from thesaddle her loosened hair brushed his face like a kiss. For a moment sheseemed like life's answer to the dreary riddle of his fate. 

"Ah, " she sighed, leaning on him, "I am glad I found you, cousin; Ihardly knew how weary I was;" and she dropped languidly to the doorstep. 

Odo's heart was beating hard. He knew it was only the stir of the springsap in his veins, but Maria Clementina wore a look of morning brightnessthat might have made a soberer judgment blink. He turned away to examineher saddle. As he did so, he observed that her girth was not torn, butclean cut, as with sharp scissors. He glanced up in surprise, but shesat with drooping lids, her head thrown back against the lintel; andrepressing the question on his lips he busied himself with theadjustment of the saddle. When it was in place he turned to give her ahand; but she only smiled up at him through her lashes. 

"What!" said she with an air of lovely lassitude, "are you so impatientto be rid of me? I should have been so glad to linger here a little. "She put her hand in his and let him lift her to her feet. "How cool andstill it is! Look at that little spring bubbling through the moss. Couldyou not fetch me a drink from it?"

She tossed aside her riding-hat and pushed back the hair from her warmforehead. 

"Your Highness must not drink of the water here, " said Odo, releasingher hand. 

She gave him a quick derisive glance. "Ah, true, " she cried; "this isthe house to which that abandoned wretch used to lure poor Cerveno. " Shedrew back to look at the lodge. "Were you ever in it?" she askedcuriously. "I should like to see how the place looks. "

She laid her hand on the door-latch, and to Odo's surprise it yielded toher touch. "We're in luck, I vow, " she declared with a laugh. "Comecousin, let us visit the temple of romance together. "

The allusion to Cerveno jarred on Odo, and he followed her in silence. Within doors, the lodge was seen to consist of a single room, gailypainted with hunting-scenes framed in garlands of stucco. In the duskthey could just discern the outlines of carved and gilded furniture, anda Venice mirror gave back their faces like phantoms in a magic crystal. 

"This is stifling, " said Odo impatiently. "Would your Highness not bebetter in the open?"

"No, no, " she persisted. "Unbar the shutters and we shall have airenough. I love a deserted house: I have always fancied that if one camein noiselessly enough one might catch the ghosts of the people who usedto live in it. "

He obeyed in silence, and the green-filtered forest noon filled the roomwith a quiver of light. A chill stole upon Odo as he looked at thedust-shrouded furniture, the painted harpsichord with green mouldcreeping over its keyboard, the consoles set with empty wine flagons andgoblets of Venice glass. The place was like the abandoned corpse ofpleasure. 

But Maria Clementina laughed and clapped her hands. "This isenchanting, " she cried, throwing herself into an arm-chair of threadbaredamask, "and I shall rest here while you refresh me with a glass ofLacrima Christi from one of those dusty flagons. They are empty, yousay? Never mind, for I have a flask of cordial in my saddle-bag. Fetchit, cousin, and wash these two glasses in the spring, that we may toastall the dead lovers that have drunk out of them. "

When Odo returned with the flask and glasses, she had brushed the dustfrom a slender table of inlaid wood, and drawn a seat near her own. Shefilled the two goblets with cordial and signed to Odo to seat himselfbeside her. 

"Why do you pull such a glum face?" she cried, leaning over to touch hisglass before she emptied hers. "Is it that you are thinking of poorCerveno? On my soul, I question if he needs your pity! He had his hourof folly, and was too gallant a gentleman not to pay the shot. For mypart I would rather drink a poisoned draught than die of thirst. "

The wine was rising in waves of colour over her throat and brow, andsetting her glass down she suddenly laid her ungloved hand on Odo's. 

"Cousin, " she said in a low voice, "I could help you if you would letme. "

"Help me?" he said, only half-aware of her words in the warm surprise ofher touch. 

She drew back, but with a look that seemed to leave her hand in his. 

"Are you mad, " she murmured, "or do you despise your danger?"

"Am I in danger?" he echoed smiling. He was thinking how easily a manmight go under in that deep blue gaze of hers. She dropped her lids asthough aware of his thought. 

"Why do you concern yourself with politics?" she went on with a new notein her voice. "Can you find no diversion more suited to your rank andage? Our court is a dull one, I own--but surely even here a man mightfind a better use for his time. "

Odo's self-possession returned in a flash. "I am not, " cried he gaily, "in a position to dispute it at this moment;" and he leaned over torecapture her hand. To his surprise she freed herself with an affrontedair. 

"Ah, " she said, "you think this a device to provoke a gallantconversation. " She faced him nobly now. "Look, " said she, drawing afolded paper from the breast of her riding-coat. "Have you notfrequented these houses?"

Suddenly sobered, he ran his eye over the paper. It contained the datesof the meetings he had attended at the houses of Gamba's friends, withthe designation of each house. He turned pale. 

"I had no notion, " said he, with a smile, "that my movements were ofinterest in such high places; but why does your Highness speak of dangerin this connection?"

"Because it is rumoured that the lodge of the Illuminati, which is knownto exist in Pianura, meets secretly at the houses on this list. "

Odo hesitated a moment. "Of that, " said he, "I have no report. I amacquainted with the houses only as the residences of certain learned andreputable men, who devote their leisure to scientific studies. "

"Oh, " she interrupted, "call them by what name you please! It is all oneto your enemies. "

"My enemies?" said he lightly. "And who are they?"

"Who are they?" she repeated impatiently. "Who are they not? Who isthere at court that has such cause to love you? The Holy Office? TheDuke's party?"

Odo smiled. "I am perhaps not in the best odour with the Church party, "said he, "but Count Trescorre has shown himself my friend, and I thinkmy character is safe in his keeping. Nor will it be any news to him thatI frequent the company you name. "

She threw back her head with a laugh. "Boy, " she cried, "you are blindereven than I fancied! Do you know why it was that the Duke summoned youto Pianura? Because he wished his party to mould you to their shape, incase the regency should fall into your hands. And what has Trescorredone? Shown himself your friend, as you say--won your confidence, encouraged you to air your liberal views, allowed you to show yourselfcontinually in the Bishop's company, and to frequent the secretassemblies of free thinkers and conspirators--and all that the Duke mayturn against you and perhaps name him regent in your stead! Believe me, cousin, " she cried with a mounting urgency, "you never stood in greaterneed of a friend than now. If you continue on your present course youare undone. The Church party is resolved to hunt down the Illuminati, and both sides would rejoice to see you made the scapegoat of the HolyOffice. " She sprung up and laid her hand on his arm. "What can I do toconvince you?" she said passionately. "Will you believe me if I ask youto go away--to leave Pianura on the instant?"

Odo had risen also, and they faced each other in silence. There was anunmistakable meaning in her tone: a self-revelation so simple andennobling that she seemed to give herself as hostage for her words. 

"Ask me to stay, cousin--not to go, " he whispered, her yielding hand inhis. 

"Ah, madman, " she cried, "not to believe me NOW! But it is not too lateif you will still be guided. "

"I will be guided--but not away from you. "

She broke away, but with a glance that drew him after. "It is late nowand we must set forward, " she said abruptly. "Come to me tomorrow early. I have much more to say to you. "

The words seemed to be driven out on her quick breathing, and the bloodcame and went in her cheek like a hurried messenger. She caught up herriding-hat and turned to put it on before the Venice mirror. 

Odo, stepping up behind her, looked over her shoulder to catch thereflection of her blush. Their eyes met for a laughing instant; then hedrew back deadly pale, for in the depths of the dim mirror he had seenanother face. 

The Duchess cried out and glanced behind her. "Who was it? Did you seeher?" she said trembling. 

Odo mastered himself instantly. 

"I saw nothing, " he returned quietly. "What can your Highness mean?"

She covered her eyes with her hands. "A girl's face, " sheshuddered--"there in the mirror--behind mine--a pale face with a blacktravelling hood over it--"

He gathered up her gloves and riding-whip and threw open the door of thepavilion. 

"Your Highness is weary and the air here insalubrious. Shall we notride?" he said. 

Maria Clementina heard him with a blank stare. Suddenly she rousedherself and made as though to pass out; but on the threshold shesnatched her whip from him and, turning, flung it full at the mirror. Her aim was good and the chiselled handle of the whip shattered theglass to fragments. 

She caught up her long skirt and stepped into the open. 

"I brook no rivals!" said she with a white-lipped smile. "And now, cousin, " she added gaily, "to horse!"

2. 15. 

Odo, as in duty bound, waited the next morning on the Duchess; but wordwas brought that her Highness was indisposed, and could not receive himtill evening. 

He passed a drifting and distracted day. The fear lay much upon him thatdanger threatened Gamba and his associates; yet to seek them out in thepresent conjuncture might be to play the stalking-horse to theirenemies. Moreover, he fancied the Duchess not incapable of usingpolitical rumours to further her private caprice; and scenting noimmediate danger he resolved to wait upon events. 

On rising from dinner he was surprised by a summons from the Duke. Themessage, an unusual one at that hour, was brought by a slender pale lad, not in his Highness's service, but in that of the German physicianHeiligenstern. The boy, who was said to be a Georgian rescued from theGrand Signior's galleys, and whose small oval face was as smooth as agirl's, accosted Odo in one of the remoter garden alleys with therequest to follow him at once to the Duke's apartment. Odo complied, andhis guide loitered ahead with an air of unconcern, as though not wishingto have his errand guessed. As they passed through the tapestry gallerypreceding the gentlemen's antechamber, footsteps and voices were heardwithin. Instantly the boy was by Odo's side and had drawn him into theembrasure of a window. A moment later Trescorre left the antechamber andwalked rapidly past their hiding-place. As soon as he was out of sightthe Georgian led Odo from his concealment and introduced him by aprivate way to the Duke's closet. 

His Highness was in his bed-chamber; and Odo, on being admitted, foundhim, still in dressing-gown and night-cap, kneeling with a disorderedcountenance before the ancient picture of the Last Judgment that hung onthe wall facing his bed. He seemed to have forgotten that he had askedfor his kinsman; for on the latter's entrance he started up with asuspicious glance and hastily closed the panels of the picture, which(as Odo now noticed) appeared to conceal an inner painting. Then, gathering his dressing-gown about him, he led the way to his closet andbade his visitor be seated. 

"I have, " said he, speaking in a low voice, and glancing apprehensivelyabout him, "summoned you hither privately to speak on a subject whichconcerns none but ourselves. --You met no one on your way?" he broke offto enquire. 

Odo told him that Count Trescorre had passed, but without perceivinghim. 

The Duke seemed relieved. "My private actions, " said he querulously, "are too jealously spied upon by my ministers. Such surveillance is anoffence to my authority, and my subjects shall learn that it will notfrighten me from my course. " He straightened his bent shoulders andtried to put on the majestic look of his official effigy. "It appears, "he continued, with one of his sudden changes of manner, "that theDuchess's uncle, the Duke of Monte Alloro, has heard favourable reportsof your wit and accomplishments, and is desirous of receiving you at hiscourt. " He paused, and Odo concealed his surprise behind a profound bow. 

"I own, " the Duke went on, "that the invitation comes unseasonably, since I should have preferred to keep you at my side; but his Highness'sgreat age, and his close kinship to my wife, through whom the request isconveyed, make it impossible for me to refuse. " The Duke again paused, as though uncertain how to proceed. At length he resumed:--"I will notconceal from you that his Highness is subject to the fantastical humoursof his age. He makes it a condition that the length of your stay shallnot be limited; but should you fail to suit his mood you may findyourself out of favour in a week. He writes of wishing to send you on aprivate mission to the court of Naples; but this may be no more than apassing whim. I see no way, however, but to let you go, and to hope fora favourable welcome for you. The Duchess is determined upon giving heruncle this pleasure, and in fact has consented in return to oblige me inan important matter. " He flushed and averted his eyes. "I name this, " headded with an effort, "only that her Highness may be aware that itdepends on herself whether I hold to my side of the bargain. Your papersare already prepared and you have my permission to set out at yourconvenience. Meanwhile it were well that you should keep yourpreparations private, at least till you are ready to take leave. " Andwith the air of dignity he could still assume on occasion, he rose andhanded Odo his passport. 

Odo left the closet with a beating heart. It was clear that hisdeparture from Pianura was as strongly opposed by some one in highauthority as it was favoured by the Duchess; and why opposed and by whomhe could not so much as hazard a guess. In the web of court intrigues itwas difficult for the wariest to grope his way; and Odo was still new tosuch entanglements. His first sensation was one of release, of a futuresuddenly enlarged and cleared. The door was open again to opportunity, and he was of an age to greet the unexpected like a bride. Only onethought disturbed him. It was clear that Maria Clementina had paid highfor his security; and did not her sacrifice, whatever its nature, constitute a claim upon his future? In sending him to her uncle, whoseknown favourite she was, she did not let him out of her hand. If heaccepted this chance of escape he must hereafter come and go as shebade. At the thought, his bounding fancy slunk back humbled. He sawhimself as Trescorre's successor, his sovereign's official lover, takingup again, under more difficult circumstances, and without the zest ofinexperience, the dull routine of his former bondage. No, a thousandtimes no; he would fetter himself to no woman's fancy! Better find apretext for staying in Pianura, affront the Duchess by refusing her aid, risk his prospects, his life even, than bow his neck twice to the sameyoke. All her charm vanished in this vision of unwillingsubjection... Disturbed by these considerations, and anxious to composehis spirits, Odo bethought himself of taking refuge in the Bishop'scompany. Here at least the atmosphere was clear of mystery: the Bishopheld aloof from political intrigue and breathed an air untainted by theodium theologicum. Odo found his lordship seated in the cool tessellatedsaloon which contained his chiefest treasures--marble busts ranged onpedestals between the windows, the bronze Venus Callipyge, and varioustables of pietra commessa set out with vases and tazzas of antiquepattern. A knot of virtuosi gathered about one of these tables wereengaged in examining a collection of engraved gems displayed by alapidary of Florence; while others inspected a Greek manuscript whichthe Bishop had lately received from Syria. Beyond the windows, acedrario or orange-walk stretched its sunlit vista to the terrace abovethe river; and the black cassocks of one or two priests who werestrolling in the clear green shade of a pleached alley made pleasantspots of dimness in the scene. 

Even here, however, Odo was aware of a certain disquietude. The Bishop'svisitors, instead of engaging in animated disputations over hislordship's treasures, showed a disposition to walk apart, conversing inlow tones; and he himself, presently complaining of the heat, invitedOdo to accompany him to the grot beneath the terrace. In this shadedretreat, studded with shells and coral and cooled by an artificial windforced through the conchs of marble Tritons, his lordship at once beganto speak of the rumours of public disaffection. 

"As you know, " said he, "my duties and tastes alike seclude me frompolitical intrigue, and the scandal of the day seldom travels beyond mykitchens. But as creaking signboards announce a storm, the hints andwhispers of my household tell me there is mischief abroad. My positionprotects me from personal risk, and my lack of ambition from politicalenmity; for it is notorious I would barter the highest honours in thestate for a Greek vase or a bronze of Herculanaeum--not to mention thefamous Venus of Giorgione, which, if report be true, his Highness hasburned at Father Ignazio's instigation. But yours, cavaliere, is a lesssheltered walk, and perhaps a friendly warning may be of service. Yet, "he added after a pause, "a warning I can scarce call it, since I knownot from what quarter the danger impends. Proximus ardet Ucalegon; butthere is no telling which way the flames may spread. I can only adviseyou that the Duke's growing infatuation for his German magician has bredthe most violent discontent among his subjects, and that both partiesappear resolved to use this disaffection to their advantage. It is saidhis Highness intends to subject the little prince to some mysterioustreatment connected with the rites of the Egyptian priesthood, of whosesecret doctrine Heiligenstern pretends to be an adept. Yesterday it wasbruited that the Duchess loudly opposed the experiment; this afternoonit is given out that she has yielded. What the result may be, none canforesee; but whichever way the storm blows, the chief danger probablythreatens those who have had any connection with the secret societiesknown to exist in the duchy. "

Odo listened attentively, but without betraying any great surprise; andthe Bishop, evidently reassured by his composure, suggested that, theheat of the day having declined, they should visit the new Indianpheasants in his volary. 

The Bishop's hints had not helped his listener to a decision. Odo indeedgave Cantapresto orders to prepare as privately as possible for theirdeparture; but rather to appear to be carrying out the Duke'sinstructions than with any fixed intention of so doing. How to find apretext for remaining he was yet uncertain. To disobey the Duke wasimpossible; but in the general state of tension it seemed likely enoughthat both his Highness and the Duchess might change their minds withinthe next twenty-four hours. He was reluctant to appear that evening inthe Duchess's circle; but the command was not to be evaded, and he wentthither resolved to excuse himself early. 

He found her Highness surrounded by the usual rout that attended her. She was herself in a mood of wild mirth, occasioned by the drolleries ofan automatic female figure which a travelling showman introduced byCantapresto had obtained leave to display at court. This lively puppetperformed with surprising skill on the harpsichord, giving the company, among other novelties, selections from the maestro Piccini's latestopera and a concerto of the German composer Gluck. 

Maria Clementina seemed at first unaware of her kinsman's presence, andhe began to hope he might avoid any private talk with her; but when theautomaton had been dismissed and the card-tables were preparing, one ofher gentlemen summoned him to her side. As usual, she was highly rougedin the French fashion, and her cold blue eyes had a light which set offthe extraordinary fairness of her skin. 

"Cousin, " said she at once, "have you your papers?" Her tone was haughtyand yet eager, as though she scorned to show herself concerned, yetwould not have had him believe in her indifference. Odo bowed withoutspeaking. 

"And when do you set out?" she continued. "My good uncle is impatient toreceive you. "

"At the earliest moment, madam, " he replied with some hesitation. 

The hesitation was not lost on her and he saw her flush through herrouge. 

"Ah, " said she in a low voice, "the earliest moment is none tooearly!--Do you go tomorrow?" she persisted; but just then Trescorreadvanced toward them, and under a burst of assumed merriment sheprivately signed to Odo to withdraw. 

He was glad to make his escape, for the sense of walking among hiddenpitfalls was growing on him. That he had acquitted himself awkwardlywith the Duchess he was well aware; but Trescorre's interruption had atleast enabled him to gain time. An increasing unwillingness to leavePianura had replaced his former impatience to be gone. The reluctance todesert his friends was coupled with a boyish desire to stay and see thegame out; and behind all his other impulses lurked the instinctiveresistance to any feminine influence save one. 

The next morning he half-expected another message from the Duchess; butnone came, and he judged her to be gravely offended. Cantaprestoappeared early with the rumour that some kind of magical ceremony was tobe performed that evening in the palace; and toward noon the Georgianboy again came privately to Odo and requested him to wait on the Dukewhen his Highness rose from supper. This increased Odo's fears forGamba, Andreoni and the other reformers; yet he dared neither seek themout in person nor entrust a message to Cantapresto. As the day passed, however, he began to throw off his apprehensions. It was not the firsttime since he had come to Pianura that there had been ominous talk ofpolitical disturbances, and he knew that Gamba and his friends were notwithout means of getting under shelter. As to his own risk, he did notgive it a thought. He was not of an age or a temper to weigh personaldanger against the excitement of conflict; and as evening drew on hefound himself wondering with some impatience if after all nothingunusual would happen. 

He supped alone, and at the appointed hour proceeded to the Duke'sapartments, taking no farther precaution than to carry his passportabout him. The palace seemed deserted. Everywhere an air of apprehensionand mystery hung over the long corridors and dimly-lit antechambers. Theday had been sultry, with a low sky foreboding great heat, and not abreath of air entered at the windows. There were few persons about, butone or two beggars lurked as usual on the landings of the greatstaircase, and Odo, in passing, felt his sleeve touched by a womancowering under the marble ramp in the shadow thrown by a colossalCaesar. Looking down, he heard a voice beg for alms, and as he gave itthe woman pressed a paper into his hand and slipped away through thedarkness. 

Odo hastened on till he could assure himself of being unobserved; thenhe unfolded the paper and read these words in Gamba's hand: "Have nofear for any one's safety but your own. " With a sense of relief he hidthe message and entered the Duke's antechamber. 

Here he was received by Heiligenstern's Oriental servant, who, with amute salutation, led him into a large room where the Duke's pagesusually waited. The walls of this apartment had been concealed underhangings of black silk worked with cabalistic devices. Oil-lamps set ontripods of antique design shed a faint light over the company seated atone end of the room, among whom Odo recognised the chief dignitaries ofthe court. The ladies looked pale but curious, the men for the most partindifferent or disapproving. Intense quietness prevailed, broken only bythe soft opening and closing of the door through which the guests wereadmitted. Presently the Duke and Duchess emerged from his Highness'scloset. They were followed by Prince Ferrante, supported by his governorand his dwarf, and robed in a silken dressing-gown which hung involuminous folds about his little shrunken body. Their Highnesses seatedthemselves in two armchairs in front of the court, and the little princereclined beside his mother. 

No sooner had they taken their places than Heiligenstern stepped forth, wearing a doctor's gown and a quaintly-shaped bonnet or mitre. In hislong robes and strange headdress he looked extraordinarily tall andpale, and his features had the glassy-eyed fixity of an ancient mask. Hewas followed by his two attendants, the Oriental carrying a frame-workof polished metal, not unlike a low narrow bed, which he set down in themiddle of the room; while the Georgian lad, who had exchanged hisfustanella and embroidered jacket for a flowing white robe, bore in hishands a crystal globe set in a gold stand. Having reverently placed iton a small table, the boy, at a signal from his master, drew forth aphial and dropped its contents into a bronze vat or brazier which stoodat the far end of the room. Instantly clouds of perfumed vapour filledthe air, and as these dispersed it was seen that the black hangings ofthe walls had vanished with them, and the spectators found themselvesseated in a kind of open temple through which the eye travelled downcolonnaded vistas set with statues and fountains. This magical prospectwas bathed in sunlight, and Odo observed that, though the lamps had goneout, the same brightness suffused the room and illuminated the wonderingfaces of the audience. The little prince uttered a cry of delight, andthe magician stepped forward, raising a long white wand in his hand. 

"This, " said he, in measured accents, "is an evocation of the Temple ofHealth, into whose blissful precincts the wisdom of the ancients wasable to lead the sufferer who put his trust in them. This deceptiovisus, or product of rhabdomancy, easily effected by an adept of theEgyptian mysteries, is designed but to prefigure the reality whichawaits those who seek health through the ministry of the disciples ofIamblichus. It is no longer denied among men of learning that those whohave been instructed in the secret doctrine of the ancients are able, bycertain correspondences of nature, revealed only to the initiated, toact on the inanimate world about them, and on the animal economy, bymeans beyond the common capabilities of man. " He paused a moment, andthen, turning with a low bow to the Duke, enquired whether his Highnessdesired the rites to proceed. 

The Duke signed his assent, and Heiligenstern, raising his wand, evokedanother volume of mist. This time it was shot through with green flames, and as the wild light subsided the room was once more revealed with itsblack hangings, and the lamps flickered into life again. 

After another pause, doubtless intended to increase the tension of thespectators, the magician bade his servant place the crystal before him. He then raised his hands as if in prayer, speaking in a strange chantingjargon, in which Odo detected fragments of Greek and Latin, and therecurring names of the Judaic demons and angels. As this ceasedHeiligenstern beckoned to the Georgian boy, who approached him withbowed head and reverently folded hands. 

"Your Highness, " said Heiligenstern, "and this distinguished company, are doubtless familiar with the magic crystal of the ancients, in whichthe future may be deciphered by the pure in heart. This lad, whom Irescued from slavery and have bred to my service in the solemn rites ofthe priesthood of Isis, is as clear in spirit as the crystal whichstands before you. The future lies open to him in this translucentsphere and he is prepared to disclose it at your bidding. "

There was a moment's silence; but on the magician's repeating hisenquiry the Duke said: "Let the boy tell me what he sees. "

Heiligenstern at once laid his hands on his acolyte's head and murmureda few words over him; then the boy advanced and bent devoutly above thecrystal. Almost immediately the globe was seen to cloud, as thoughsuffused with milk; the cloud gradually faded and the boy began to speakin a low hesitating tone. 

"I see, " he said, "I see a face... A fair face... " He faltered andglanced up almost apprehensively at Heiligenstern, whose gaze remainedimpenetrable. The boy began to tremble. "I see nothing, " he said in awhisper. "There is one here purer than I... The crystal will not speakfor me in that other's presence... "

"Who is that other?" Heiligenstern asked. 

The boy fixed his eyes on the little prince. An excited murmur ranthrough the company and Heiligenstern again advanced to the Duke. "Willyour Highness, " he asked, "permit the prince to look into the sacredsphere?"

Odo saw the Duchess extend her hand impulsively toward the child; but ata signal from the Duke the little prince's chair was carried to thetable on which the crystal stood. Instantly the former phenomenon wasrepeated, the globe clouding and then clearing itself like a pool afterrain. 

"Speak, my son, " said the Duke. "Tell us what the heavenly powers revealto you. "

The little prince continued to pore over the globe without speaking. Suddenly his thin face reddened and he clung more closely to hiscompanion's arm. 

"I see a beautiful place, " he began, his small fluting voice rising likea bird's pipe in the stillness, "a place a thousand times more beautifulthan this... Like a garden... Full of golden-haired children... Withbeautiful strange toys in their hands... They have wings likebirds... They ARE birds... Ah! they are flying away from me... I see themno more... They vanish through the trees... " He broke off sadly. 

Heiligenstern smiled. "That, your Highness, is a vision of the prince'sown future, when, restored to health, he is able to disport himself withhis playmates in the gardens of the palace. "

"But they were not the gardens of the palace!" the little boy exclaimed. "They were much more beautiful than our gardens. "

Heiligenstern bowed. "They appeared so to your Highness, " hedeferentially suggested, "because all the world seems more beautiful tothose who have regained their health. "

"Enough, my son!" exclaimed the Duchess with a shaken voice. "Why willyou weary the child?" she continued, turning to the Duke; and thelatter, with evident reluctance, signed to Heiligenstern to cover thecrystal. To the general surprise, however, Prince Ferrante pushed backthe black velvet covering which the Georgian boy was preparing to throwover it. 

"No, no, " he exclaimed, in the high obstinate voice of the spoiledchild, "let me look again... Let me see some more beautiful things... Ihave never seen anything so beautiful, even in my sleep!" It was theplaintive cry of the child whose happiest hours are those spent inunconsciousness. 

"Look again, then, " said the Duke, "and ask the heavenly powers whatmore they have to show you. "

The boy gazed in silence; then he broke out: "Ah, now we are in thepalace... I see your Highness's cabinet... No, it is the bedchamber... Itis night... And I see your Highness lying asleep... Very still... Verystill... Your Highness wears the scapular received last Easter from hisHoliness... It is very dark... Oh, now a light begins to shine... Wheredoes it come from? Through the door? No, there is no door on that sideof the room... It shines through the wall at the foot of the bed... Ah! Isee"--his voice mounted to a cry--"The old picture at the foot of thebed... The picture with the wicked people burning in it... Has opened likea door... The light is shining through it... And now a lady steps out fromthe wall behind the picture... Oh, so beautiful... She has yellow hair, asyellow as my mother's... But longer... Oh, much longer... She carries arose in her hand... And there are white doves flying about hershoulders... She is naked, quite naked, poor lady! but she does not seemto mind... She seems to be laughing about it... And your Highness... "

The Duke started up violently. "Enough--enough!" he stammered. "Thefever is on the child... This agitation is... Most pernicious... Cover thecrystal, I say!"

He sank back, his forehead damp with perspiration. In an instant thecrystal had been removed, and Prince Ferrante carried back to hismother's side. The boy seemed in nowise affected by his father'scommotion. His eyes burned with excitement, and he sat up eagerly, asthough not to miss a detail of what was going forward. Maria Clementinaleaned over and clasped his hand, but he hardly noticed her. "I want tosee some more beautiful things!" he insisted. 

The Duke sat speechless, a fallen heap in his chair, and the courtierslooked at each other, their faces shifting spectrally in the faintlight, like phantom travellers waiting to be ferried across somemysterious river. At length Heiligenstern advanced and with every markof deference addressed himself to the Duke. 

"Your Highness, " said he quietly, "need be under no apprehension as tothe effect produced upon the prince. The magic crystal, as your Highnessis aware, is under the protection of the blessed spirits, and itsrevelations cannot harm those who are pure-minded enough to receivethem. But the chief purpose of this assemblage was to witness thecommunication of vital force to the prince, by means of the electricalcurrent. The crystal, by revealing its secrets to the prince, hastestified to his perfect purity of mind, and thus declared him to be ina peculiarly fit state to receive what may be designated as theSacrament of the new faith. "

A murmur ran through the room, but Heiligenstern continued withoutwavering: "I mean thereby to describe that natural religion which, byinstructing its adepts in the use of the hidden potencies of earth andair, testifies afresh to the power of the unseen Maker of the Universe. "

The murmur subsided, and the Duke, regaining his voice, said with anassumption of authority: "Let the treatment begin. "

Heiligenstern immediately spoke a word to the Oriental, who bent overthe metal bed which had been set up in the middle of the room. As he didso the air again darkened and the figures of the magician and hisassistants were discernible only as flitting shades in the obscurity. Suddenly a soft pure light overflowed the room, the perfume of flowersfilled the air, and music seemed to steal out of the very walls. Heiligenstern whispered to the governor and between them they lifted thelittle prince from his chair and laid him gently on the bed. Themagician then leaned over the boy with a slow weaving motion of thehands. 

"If your Highness will be pleased to sleep, " he said, "I promise yourHighness the most beautiful dreams. "

The boy smiled back at him and he continued to bend above the bed withflitting hands. Suddenly the little prince began to laugh. 

"What does your Highness feel?" the magician asked. 

"A prickling... Such a soft warm prickling... As if my blood were sunshinewith motes dancing in it... Or as if that sparkling wine of France wererunning all over my body. "

"It is an agreeable sensation, your Highness?"

The boy nodded. 

"It is well with your Highness?"

"Very well. "

Heiligenstern began a loud rhythmic chant, and gradually the airdarkened, but with the mild dimness of a summer twilight, through whichsparks could be seen flickering like fire-flies about the recliningprince. The hush grew deeper; but in the stillness Odo became aware ofsome unseen influence that seemed to envelope him in waves of exquisitesensation. It was as though the vast silence of the night had pouredinto the room and, like a dark tepid sea, was lapping about his body andrising to his lips. His thoughts, dissolved into emotion, seemed towaver and float on the stillness like sea-weed on the lift of the tide. He stood spell-bound, lulled, yielding himself to a blissfuldissolution. 

Suddenly he became aware that the hush was too intense, too complete;and a moment later, as though stretched to the cracking-point, it burstterrifically into sound. A huge uproar shook the room, crashing throughit like a tangible mass. The sparks whirled in a menacing dance roundthe little prince's body, and, abruptly blotted, left a deeper darkness, in which the confused herding movements of startled figures wereindistinguishably merged. A flash of silence followed; then theliberated forces of the night broke in rain and thunder on the rockingwalls of the room. 

"Light--light!" some one stammered; and at the same moment a door wasflung open, admitting a burst of candle-light and a group of figures inecclesiastical dress, against which the white gown and black hood ofFather Ignazio detached themselves. The Dominican stepped toward theDuke. 

"Your Highness, " said he in a tone of quiet resolution, "must pardonthis interruption; I act at the bidding of the Holy Office. "

Even in that moment of profound disarray the name sent a deeper shudderthrough his hearers. The Duke, who stood grasping the arms of his chair, raised his head and tried to stare down the intruders; but no one heededhis look. At a signal from the Dominican a servant had brought in a pairof candelabra, and in their commonplace light the cabalistic hangings, the magician's appliances and his fantastically-dressed attendantslooked as tawdry as the paraphernalia of a village quack. Heiligensternalone survived the test. Erect, at bay as it were, his black robefalling in hieratic folds, the white wand raised in his hands, he mighthave personified the Prince of Darkness drawn up undaunted against thehosts of the Lord. Some one had snatched the little prince from hisstretcher, and Maria Clementina, holding him to her breast, sat palelyconfronting the sorcerer. She alone seemed to measure her strengthagainst his in some mysterious conflict of the will. But meanwhile theDuke had regained his voice. 

"My father, " said he, "on what information does the Holy Office act?"

The Dominican drew a parchment from his breast. "On that of theInquisitor General, your Highness, " he replied, handing the paper to theDuke, who unfolded it with trembling hands but was plainly unable tomaster its contents. Father Ignazio beckoned to an ecclesiastic who hadentered the room in his train. 

"This, your Highness, " said he, "is the abate de Crucis of Innsbruck, who was lately commissioned by the Holy Office to enquire into thepractises and doctrine of the order of the Illuminati, that corrupt andatheistical sect which has been the cause of so much scandal among theGerman principalities. In the course of his investigations he becameaware that the order had secretly established a lodge in Pianura; andhastening hither from Rome to advise your Highness of the fact, hasdiscovered in the so-called Count Heiligenstern one of the mostnotorious apostles of the order. " He turned to the priest. "Signorabate, " he said, "you confirm these facts?"

The abate de Crucis quietly advanced. He was a slight pale man of aboutthirty, with a thoughtful and indulgent cast of countenance. 

"In every particular, " said he, bowing profoundly to the Duke, andspeaking in a low voice of singular sweetness. "It has been my duty totrack this man's career from its ignoble beginning to its infamousculmination, and I have been able to place in the hands of the HolyOffice the most complete proofs of his guilt. The so-called CountHeiligenstern is the son of a tailor in a small village of Pomerania. After passing through various vicissitudes with which I need not troubleyour Highness, he obtained the confidence of the notorious Dr. Weishaupt, the founder of the German order of the Illuminati, andtogether this precious couple have indefatigably propagated theirobscene and blasphemous doctrines. That they preach atheism andtyrannicide I need not tell your Highness; but it is less generallyknown that they have made these infamous doctrines the cloak of privatevices from which even paganism would have recoiled. The man now beforeme, among other open offences against society, is known to have seduceda young girl of noble family in Ratisbon and to have murdered her child. His own wife and children he long since abandoned and disowned; and theyouth yonder, whom he describes as a Georgian slave rescued from theGrand Signior's galleys, is in fact the wife of a Greek juggler ofRavenna, and has forsaken her husband to live in criminal intercoursewith an atheist and assassin. "

This indictment, pronounced with an absence of emotion which made eachword cut the air like the separate stroke of a lash, was followed by aprolonged silence; then one of the Duchess's ladies cried out suddenlyand burst into tears. This was the signal for a general outbreak. Theroom was filled with a confusion of voices, and among the groups surgingabout him Odo noticed a number of the Duke's sbirri making their wayquietly through the crowd. The notary of the Holy Office advanced towardHeiligenstern, who had placed himself against the wall, with one armflung about his trembling acolyte. The Duchess, her boy still claspedagainst her, remained proudly seated; but her eyes met Odo's in a glanceof terrified entreaty, and at the same instant he felt a clutch on hissleeve and heard Cantapresto's whisper. 

"Cavaliere, a boat waits at the landing below the tanners' lane. Theshortest way to it is through the gardens and your excellency will findthe gate beyond the Chinese pavilion unlocked. "

He had vanished before Odo could look round. The latter still wavered;but as he did so he caught Trescorre's face through the crowd. Theminister's eye was fixed on him; and the discovery was enough to makehim plunge through the narrow wake left by Cantapresto's retreat. 

Odo made his way unhindered to the ante-room, which was also thronged, ecclesiastics, servants and even beggars from the courtyard jostlingeach other in their struggle to see what was going forward. Theconfusion favoured his escape, and a moment later he was hastening downthe tapestry gallery and through the vacant corridors of the palace. Hewas familiar with half-a-dozen short-cuts across this network ofpassages; but in his bewilderment he pressed on down the great stairsand across the echoing guard-room that opened on the terrace. A drowsysentinel challenged him; and on Odo's explaining that he sought toleave, and not to enter, the palace, replied that he had his Highness'sorders to let no one out that night. For a moment Odo was at a loss;then he remembered his passport. It seemed to him an interminable timebefore the sentinel had scrutinised it by the light of a gutteringcandle, and to his surprise he found himself in a cold sweat of fear. The rattle of the storm simulated footsteps at his heels and he felt theblind rage of a man within shot of invisible foes. 

The passport restored, he plunged out into the night. It was pitch-blackin the gardens and the rain drove down with the guttural rush of amidsummer storm. So fierce was its fall that it seemed to suck up theearth in its black eddies, and he felt himself swept along over aheaving hissing surface, with wet boughs lashing out at him as he fled. From one terrace to another he dropped to lower depths of buffetingdripping darkness, till he found his hand on the gate-latch and swung tothe black lane below the wall. Thence on a run he wound to the tanners'quarter by the river: a district commonly as foul-tongued as it wasill-favoured, but tonight clean-purged of both evils by the vehementsweep of the storm. Here he groped his way among slippery places andpast huddled out-buildings to the piles of the wharf. The rain was nowsubdued to a noiseless vertical descent, through which he could hear thetap of the river against the piles. Scarce knowing what he fled orwhither he was flying, he let himself down the steps and found the flatof a boat's bottom underfoot. A boatman, distinguishable only as a blackbulk in the stern, steadied his descent with outstretched hand; then thebow swung round, and after a labouring stroke or two they caught thecurrent and were swept down through the rushing darkness. 

BOOK III. 

THE CHOICE. 

 The Vision touched him on the lips and said: Hereafter thou shalt eat me in thy bread, Drink me in all thy kisses, feel my hand Steal 'twixt thy palm and Joy's, and see me stand Watchful at every crossing of the ways, The insatiate lover of thy nights and days. 

3. 1. 

It was at Naples, some two years later, that the circumstances of hisflight were recalled to Odo Valsecca by the sound of a voice which atonce mysteriously connected itself with the incidents of that wildnight. 

He was seated with a party of gentlemen in the saloon of Sir WilliamHamilton's famous villa of Posilipo, where they were sipping theambassador's iced sherbet and examining certain engraved gems andburial-urns recently taken from the excavations. The scene was such asalways appealed to Odo's fancy: the spacious room, luxuriously fittedwith carpets and curtains in the English style, and opening on aprospect of classical beauty and antique renown; in his hands the rarestspecimens of that buried art which, like some belated golden harvest, was now everywhere thrusting itself through the Neapolitan soil; andabout him men of taste and understanding, discussing the historic ormythological meaning of the objects before them, and quoting Homer orHorace in corroboration of their guesses. 

Several visitors had joined the party since Odo's entrance; and it wasfrom a group of these later arrivals that the voice had reached him. Helooked round and saw a man of refined and scholarly appearance, dresseden abbe, as was the general habit in Rome and Naples, and holding in onehand the celebrated blue vase cut in cameo which Sir William hadrecently purchased from the Barberini family. 

"These reliefs, " the stranger was saying, "whether cut in the substanceitself, or afterward affixed to the glass, certainly belong to theGrecian period of cameo-work, and recall by the purity of their designthe finest carvings of Dioskorides. " His beautifully-modulated Italianwas tinged by a slight foreign accent, which seemed to connect him stillmore definitely with the episode his voice recalled. Odo turned to agentleman at his side and asked the speaker's name. 

"That, " was the reply, "is the abate de Crucis, a scholar andcognoscente, as you perceive, and at present attached to the householdof the Papal Nuncio. "

Instantly Odo beheld the tumultuous scene in the Duke's apartments, andheard the indictment of Heiligenstern falling in tranquil accents fromthe very lips which were now, in the same tone, discussing the date of aGreek cameo vase. Even in that moment of disorder he had been struck bythe voice and aspect of the agent of the Holy Office, and by a singulardistinction that seemed to set the man himself above the coil ofpassions in which his action was involved. To Odo's spontaneous yetreflective temper there was something peculiarly impressive in the kindof detachment which implies, not obtuseness or indifference, but ahigher sensitiveness disciplined by choice. Now he felt a renewed pangof regret that such qualities should be found in the service of theopposition; but the feeling was not incompatible with a wish to be morenearly acquainted with their possessor. 

The two years elapsing since Odo's departure from Pianura had widened ifthey had not lifted his outlook. If he had lost something of his earlyenthusiasm he had exchanged it for a larger experience of cities andmen, and for the self-command born of varied intercourse. He had reacheda point where he was able to survey his past dispassionately and todisentangle the threads of the intrigue in which he had so nearly losthis footing. The actual circumstances of his escape were still wrappedin mystery: he could only conjecture that the Duchess, foreseeing thecourse events would take, had planned with Cantapresto to save him inspite of himself. His nocturnal flight down the river had carried him toPonte di Po, the point where the Piana flows into the Po, the latterriver forming for a few miles the southern frontier of the duchy. Herehis passport had taken him safely past the customs-officer, andfollowing the indications of the boatman, he had found, outside themiserable village clustered about the customs, a travelling-chaise whichbrought him before the next night-fall to Monte Alloro. 

Of the real danger from which this timely retreat had removed him, Gamba's subsequent letters had brought ample proof. It was indeed mainlyagainst himself that both parties, perhaps jointly, had directed theirattack; designing to take him in the toils ostensibly prepared for theIlluminati. His evasion known, the Holy Office had contented itself withimprisoning Heiligenstern in one of the Papal fortresses near theAdriatic, while his mistress, though bred in the Greek confession, wasconfined in a convent of the Sepolte Vive and his Oriental servant sentto the Duke's galleys. As to those suspected of affiliations with theforbidden sect, fines and penances were imposed on a few of the leastconspicuous, while the chief offenders, either from motives of policy orthanks to their superior adroitness, were suffered to escape without areprimand. After this, Gamba's letters reported, the duchy had lapsedinto its former state of quiescence. Prince Ferrante had been seriouslyailing since the night of the electrical treatment, but the Pope havingsent his private physician to Pianura, the boy had rallied under thelatter's care. The Duke, as was natural, had suffered an acute relapseof piety, spending his time in expiatory pilgrimages to the variousvotive churches of the duchy, and declining to transact any publicbusiness till he should have compiled with his own hand a calendar ofthe lives of the saints, with the initial letters painted in miniature, which he designed to present to his Holiness at Easter. 

Meanwhile Odo, at Monte Alloro, found himself in surroundings sodifferent from those he had left that it seemed incredible they shouldexist in the same world. The Duke of Monte Alloro was that rare survivalof a stronger age, a cynic. In a period of sentimental optimism, offervid enthusiasms and tearful philanthropy, he represented thepleasure-loving prince of the Renaissance, crushing his people withtaxes but dazzling them with festivities; infuriating them by hisdisregard of the public welfare, but fascinating them by his good looks, his tolerance of old abuses, his ridicule of the monks, and by thecareless libertinage which had founded the fortunes of more than onemiddle-class husband and father--for the Duke always paid well for whathe appropriated. He had grown old in his pleasant sins, and these, assuch raiment will, had grown old and dingy with him; but if no longersplendid he was still splendour-loving, and drew to his court the mostbrilliant adventurers of Italy. Spite of his preference for suchcompany, he had a nobler side, the ruins of a fine but uncultivatedintelligence, and a taste for all that was young, generous and high inlooks and courage. He was at once drawn to Odo, who instinctivelyaddressed himself to these qualities, and whose conversation and mannersthrew into relief the vulgarity of the old Duke's cronies. The latterwas the shrewd enough to enjoy the contrast at the expense of hissycophants' vanity; and the cavaliere Valsecca was for a while thereigning favourite. It would have been hard to say whether his patronwas most tickled by his zeal for economic reforms, or by his faith inthe perfectibility of man. Both these articles of Odo's creed drew tearsof enjoyment from the old Duke's puffy eyes; and he was never tired ofdeclaring that only his hatred for his nephew of Pianura induced him toaccord his protection to so dangerous an enemy of society. 

Odo at first fancied that it was in response to a mere whim of theDuke's that he had been despatched to Monte Alloro; but he soonperceived that the invitation had been inspired by Maria Clementina'swish. Some three months after Odo's arrival, Cantapresto suddenlyappeared with a packet of letters from the Duchess. Among them herHighness had included a few lines to Odo, whom she briefly adjured notto return to Pianura, but to comply in all things with her uncle'sdesires. Soon after this the old Duke sent for Odo, and asked him howhis present mode of life agreed with his tastes. Odo, who had learnedthat frankness was the surest way to the Duke's favour, replied that, while nothing could be more agreeable than the circumstances of hissojourn at Monte Alloro, he must own to a wish to travel when theoccasion offered. 

"Why, this is as I fancied, " replied the Duke, who held in his hand anopen letter on which Odo recognised Maria Clementina's seal. "We havealways, " he continued, "spoken plainly with each other, and I will notconceal from you that it is for your best interests that you shouldremain away from Pianura for the present. The Duke, as you doubtlessdivine, is anxious for your return, and her Highness, for that veryreason, is urgent that you should prolong your absence. It is notoriousthat the Duke soon wearies of those about him, and that your best chanceof regaining his favour is to keep out of his reach and let your enemieshang themselves in the noose they have prepared for you. For my part, Iam always glad to do an ill-turn to that snivelling friar, my nephew, and the more so when I can seriously oblige a friend; and, as you haveperhaps guessed, the Duke dares not ask for your return while I show afancy for your company. But this, " added he with an ironical twinkle, "is a tame place for a young man of your missionary temper, and I have amind to send you on a visit to that arch-tyrant Ferdinand of Naples, inwhose dominions a man may yet burn for heresy or be drawn and quarteredfor poaching on a nobleman's preserves. I am advised that some raretreasures have lately been taken from the excavations there and I shouldbe glad if you would oblige me by acquiring a few for my gallery. I willgive you letters to a cognoscente of my acquaintance, who will put hisexperience at the disposal of your excellent taste, and the funds atyour service will, I hope, enable you to outbid the English brigandswho, as the Romans say, would carry off the Colosseum if it wereportable. "

In all this Odo discerned Maria Clementina's hand, and an instinctiveresistance made him hang back upon his patron's proposal. But the onlyalternative was to return to Pianura; and every letter from Gamba urgedon him (for the very reasons the Duke had given) the duty of keeping outof reach as the surest means of saving himself and the cause to which hewas pledged. Nothing remained but a graceful acquiescence; and early thenext spring he started for Naples. 

His first impulse had been to send Cantapresto back to the Duchess. Heknew that he owed his escape me grave difficulties to the soprano'sprompt action on the night of Heiligenstern's arrest; but he was equallysure that such action might not always be as favourable to his plans. Itwas plain that Cantapresto was paid to spy on him, and that wheneverOdo's intentions clashed with those of his would-be protectors thesoprano would side with the latter. But there was something in the airof Monte Alloro which dispelled such considerations, or at leastweakened the impulse to act on them. Cantapresto as usual had attractednotice at court. His glibness and versatility amused the Duke, and toOdo he was as difficult to put off as a bad habit. He had become soaccomplished a servant that he seemed a sixth sense of his master's; andwhen the latter prepared to start on his travels Cantapresto took hisusual seat in the chaise. 

To a traveller of Odo's temper there could be few more agreeablejourneys than the one on which he was setting out, and the Duke being inno haste to have his commission executed, his messenger had full leisureto enjoy every stage of the way. He profited by this to visit several ofthe small principalities north of the Apennines before turning towardGenoa, whence he was to take ship for the South. When he left MonteAlloro the land had worn the bleached face of February, and it wasamazing to his northern-bred eyes to find himself, on the sea-coast, inthe full exuberance of summer. Seated by this halcyon shore, Genoa, inits carved and frescoed splendour, just then celebrating with thecustomary gorgeous ritual the accession of a new Doge, seemed to Odolike the richly-inlaid frame of some Renaissance "triumph. " But thesplendid houses with their marble peristyles, and the painted villas intheir orange-groves along the shore, housed a dull and narrow-mindedsociety, content to amass wealth and play biribi under the eyes of theirancestral Vandykes, without any concern as to the questions agitatingthe world. A kind of fat commercial dulness, a lack of that personaldistinction which justifies magnificence, seemed to Odo the prevailingnote of the place; nor was he sorry when his packet set sail for Naples. 

Here indeed he found all the vivacity that Genoa lacked. Few citiescould at first acquaintance be more engaging to the stranger. Dull andbrown as it appeared after the rich tints of Genoa, yet so gloriouslydid sea and land embrace it, so lavishly the sun gild and the moonsilver it, that it seemed steeped in the surrounding hues of nature. Andwhat a nature to eyes subdued to the sober tints of the north! Itsspectacular quality--that studied sequence of effects ranging from thetranslucent outline of Capri and the fantastically blue mountains of thecoast, to Vesuvius lifting its torch above the plain--this prodigalresponse to fancy's claims suggested the boundless invention of somegreat scenic artist, some Olympian Veronese with sea and sky for apalette. And then the city itself, huddled between bay and mountains, and seething and bubbling like a Titan's cauldron! Here was life at itssource, not checked, directed, utilised, but gushing forthuncontrollably through every fissure of the brown walls and reekingstreets--love and hatred, mirth and folly, impudence and greed, goingnaked and unashamed as the lazzaroni on the quays. The variegatedsurface of it all was fascinating to Odo. It set free his powers ofpurely physical enjoyment, keeping all deeper sensations in abeyance. These, however, presently found satisfaction in that other hidden beautyof which city and plain were but the sumptuous drapery. It is hardly toomuch to say that to the trained eyes of the day the visible Napleshardly existed, so absorbed were they in the perusal of her buried past. The fever of excavation was on every one. No social or political problemcould find a hearing while the subject of the last coin or bas-relieffrom Pompeii or Herculanaeum remained undecided. Odo, at first an amusedspectator, gradually found himself engrossed in the fierce quarrelsraging over the date of an intaglio or the myth represented on anamphora. The intrinsic beauty of the objects, and the light they shed onone of the most brilliant phases of human history, were in factsufficient to justify the prevailing ardour; and the reconstructivehabit he had acquired from Crescenti lent a living interest to thedriest discussion between rival collectors. 

Gradually other influences reasserted themselves. At the house of SirWilliam Hamilton, then the centre of the most polished society inNaples, he met not only artists and archeologists, but men of lettersand of affairs. Among these, he was peculiarly drawn to the twodistinguished economists, the abate Galiani and the cavaliereFilangieri, in whose company he enjoyed for the first time soundlearning unhampered by pedantry. The lively Galiani proved that socialtastes and a broad wit are not incompatible with more serious interests;and Filangieri threw the charm of a graceful personality over any topiche discussed. In the latter, indeed, courtly, young and romantic, athinker whose intellectual acuteness was steeped in moral emotion, Odobeheld the type of the new chivalry, an ideal leader of the campaignagainst social injustice. Filangieri represented the extremest optimismof the day. His sense of existing abuses was only equalled by his faithin their speedy amendment. Love was to cure all evils: the love of manfor man, the effusive all-embracing sympathy of the school of theVicaire Savoyard, was to purge the emotions by tenderness and pity. InGamba, the victim of the conditions he denounced, the sense of presenthardship prevailed over the faith in future improvement; whileFilangieri's social superiority mitigated his view of the evils andmagnified the efficacy of the proposed remedies. Odo's days passedagreeably in such intercourse, or in the excitement of excursions to theruined cities; and as the court and the higher society of Naples offeredlittle to engage him, he gradually restricted himself to the smallcircle of chosen spirits gathered at the villa Hamilton. To these hefancied the abate de Crucis might prove an interesting addition; and thedesire to learn something of this problematic person induced him to quitthe villa at the moment when the abate took leave. 

They found themselves together on the threshold; and Odo, recalling tothe other the circumstances of their first meeting, proposed that theyshould dismiss their carriages and regain the city on foot. De Crucisreadily consented; and they were soon descending the hill of Posilipo. Here and there a turn in the road brought them to an open space whencethey commanded the bay from Procida to Sorrento, with Capri afloat inliquid gold and the long blue shadow of Vesuvius stretching like amenace toward the city. The spectacle was one of which Odo neverwearied; but today it barely diverted him from the charms of hiscompanion's talk. The abate de Crucis had that quality of repressedenthusiasm, of an intellectual sensibility tempered by self-possession, which exercises the strongest attraction over a mind not yet master ofitself. Though all he said had a personal note he seemed to withholdhimself even in the moment of greatest expansion: like some prince whoshould enrich his favourites from the public treasury but keep hisprivate fortune unimpaired. In the course of their conversation Odolearned that though of Austrian birth his companion was of mingledEnglish and Florentine parentage: a fact perhaps explaining the mixtureof urbanity and reserve that lent such charm to his manner. He told Odothat his connection with the Holy Office had been only temporary, andthat, having contracted a severe cold the previous winter in Germany, hehad accepted a secretaryship in the service of the Papal Nuncio in orderto enjoy the benefits of a mild climate. "By profession, " he added, "Iam a pedagogue, and shall soon travel to Rome, where I have been calledby Prince Bracciano to act as governor to his son; and meanwhile I amtaking advantage of my residence here to indulge my taste forantiquarian studies. "

He went on to praise the company they had just left, declaring that heknew no better way for a young man to form his mind than by frequentingthe society of men of conflicting views and equal capacity. "Nothing, "said he, "is more injurious to the growth of character than to besecluded from argument and opposition; as nothing is healthier than tobe obliged to find good reasons for one's beliefs on pain ofsurrendering them. "

"But, " said Odo, struck with this declaration, "to a man of your cloththere is one belief which never surrenders to reason. "

The other smiled. "True, " he agreed; "but I often marvel to see howlittle our opponents know of that belief. The wisest of them seem in thecase of those children at our country fairs who gape at the incrediblethings depicted on the curtains of the booths, without asking themselveswhether the reality matches its presentment. The weakness of humannature has compelled us to paint the outer curtain of the sanctuary ingaudy colours, and the malicious fancy of our enemies has given amonstrous outline to these pictures; but what are such vanities to onewho has passed beyond, and beheld the beauty of the King's daughter, allglorious within?"

As though unwilling to linger on such grave topics, he turned the talkto the scene at their feet, questioning Odo as to the impression Napleshad made on him. He listened courteously to the young man's comments onthe wretched state of the peasantry, the extravagances of the court andnobility and the judicial corruption which made the lower classes submitto any injustice rather than seek redress through the courts. De Crucisagreed with him in the main, admitting that the monopoly of corn, themaintenance of feudal rights and the King's indifference to the graverduties of his rank placed the kingdom of Naples far below such states asTuscany or Venetia; "though, " he added, "I think our economists, inpraising one state at the expense of another, too often overlook thosedifferences of character and climate that must ever make it impossibleto govern different races in the same manner. Our peasants have a bluntsaying: Cut off the dog's tail and he is still a dog; and so I suspectthe most enlightened rule would hardly bring this prompt and cholericpeople, living on a volcanic soil amid a teeming vegetation, into anyresemblance with the clear-headed Tuscan or the gentle and dignifiedRoman. "

As he spoke they emerged upon the Chiaia, where at that hour the qualitytook the air in their carriages, while the lower classes thronged thefootway. A more vivacious scene no city of Europe could present. Thegilt coaches drawn by six or eight of the lively Neapolitan horses, decked with plumes and artificial flowers and preceded by runningfootmen who beat the foot-passengers aside with long staves; therichly-dressed ladies seated in this never-ending file of carriages, bejewelled like miraculous images and languidly bowing to their friends;the throngs of citizens and their wives in holiday dress; the sellers ofsherbet, ices and pastry bearing their trays and barrels through thecrowd with strange cries and the jingling of bells; the friars of everyorder in their various habits, the street-musicians, the half-nakedlazzaroni, cripples and beggars, who fringed the throng like the line ofscum edging a fair lake;--this medley of sound and colour, which in factresembled some sudden growth of the fiery soil, was an expressivecomment on the abate's words. 

"Look, " he continued, as he and Odo drew aside to escape the mud from anemblazoned chariot, "at the gold-leaf on the panels of that coach andthe gold-lace on the liveries of those lacqueys. Is there any other cityin the world where gold is so prodigally used? Where the monks gildtheir relics, the nobility their servants, the apothecaries their pills, the very butchers their mutton? One might fancy their bright sun had setthem the example! And how cold and grey all soberer tints must seem tothese children of Apollo! Well--so it is with their religion and theirdaily life. I wager half those naked wretches yonder would rather attenda fine religious service, with abundance of gilt candles, music fromgilt organ-pipes, and incense from gilt censers, than eat a good meal orsleep in a decent bed; as they would rather starve under a handsomemerry King that has the name of being the best billiard-player in Europethan go full under one of your solemn reforming Austrian Archdukes!"

The words recalled to Odo Crescenti's theory of the influence ofcharacter and climate on the course of history; and this subject soonengrossing both speakers, they wandered on, inattentive to theirsurroundings, till they found themselves in the thickest concourse ofthe Toledo. Here for a moment the dense crowd hemmed them in; and asthey stood observing the humours of the scene, Odo's eye fell on thethick-set figure of a man in doctor's dress, who was being led throughthe press by two agents of the Inquisition. The sight was too common tohave fixed his attention, had he not recognised with a start theirascible red-faced professor who, on his first visit to Vivaldi, haddefended the Diluvial theory of creation. The sight raised a host ofmemories from which Odo would gladly have beaten a retreat; but thecrowd held him in check and a moment later he saw that the doctor's eyeswere fixed on him with an air of recognition. A movement of pitysucceeded his first impulse, and turning to de Crucis he exclaimed:--"Isee yonder an old acquaintance who seems in an unlucky plight and withwhom I should be glad to speak. "

The other, following his glance, beckoned to one of the sbirri, who madehis way through the throng with the alacrity of one summoned by asuperior. De Crucis exchanged a few words with him, and then signed tohim to return to his charge, who presently vanished in some freshshifting of the crowd. 

"Your friend, " said de Crucis, "has been summoned before the Holy Officeto answer a charge of heresy preferred by the authorities. He has latelybeen appointed to the chair of physical sciences in the University here, and has doubtless allowed himself to publish openly views that werebetter expounded in the closet. His offence, however, appears to be amild one, and I make no doubt he will be set free in a few days. "

This, however, did not satisfy Odo; and he asked de Crucis if there wereno way of speaking with the doctor at once. 

His companion hesitated. "It can easily be arranged, " said he;"but--pardon me, cavaliere--are you well-advised in mixing yourself insuch matters?"

"I am well-advised in seeking to serve a friend!" Odo somewhat hotlyreturned; and de Crucis, with a faint smile of approval, repliedquietly: "In that case I will obtain permission for you to visit yourfriend in the morning. "

He was true to his word; and the next forenoon Odo, accompanied by anofficer of police, was taken to the prison of the Inquisition. Here hefound his old acquaintance seated in a clean commodious room and readingAristotle's "History of Animals, " the only volume of his library that hehad been permitted to carry with him. He welcomed Odo heartily, and onthe latter's enquiring what had brought him to this plight, replied withsome dignity that he had been led there in the fulfilment of his duty. 

"Some months ago, " he continued, "I was summoned hither to profess thenatural sciences in the University; a summons I readily accepted, sinceI hoped, by the study of a volcanic soil, to enlarge my knowledge of theglobe's formation. Such in fact was the case, but to my surprise myresearches led me to adopt the views I had formerly combated, and I nowfind myself in the ranks of the Vulcanists, or believers in thesecondary origin of the earth: a view you may remember I once opposedwith all the zeal of inexperience. Having firmly established every pointin my argument according to the Baconian method of investigation, I feltit my duty to enlighten my scholars; and in the course of my lastlecture I announced the result of my investigations. I was of courseaware of the inevitable result; but the servants of Truth have no choicebut to follow where she calls, and many have joyfully traversed stonierplaces than I am likely to travel. "

Nothing could exceed the respect with which Odo heard this simpleconfession of faith. It was as though the speaker had unconsciouslyconvicted him of remissness, of cowardice even; so vain and windy histheorising seemed, judged by the other's deliberate act! Yet placed ashe was, what could he do, how advance their common end, but by passivelywaiting on events? At least, he reflected, he could perform the trivialservice of trying to better his friend's case; and this he eagerlyoffered to attempt. The doctor thanked him, but without any greatappearance of emotion: Odo was struck by the change which hadtransformed a heady and intemperate speaker into a model of philosophiccalm. The doctor, indeed, seemed far more concerned for the safety ofhis library and his cabinet of minerals than for his own. "Happily, "said he, "I am not a man of family, and can therefore sacrifice myliberty with a clear conscience: a fact I am the more thankful for whenI recall the moral distress of our poor friend Vivaldi, when compelledto desert his post rather than be separated from his daughter. "

The name brought the colour to Odo's brow, and with an embarrassed airhe asked what news the doctor had of their friend. 

"Alas, " said the other, "the last was of his death, which happened twoyears since in Pavia. The Sardinian government had, as you probablyknow, confiscated his small property on his leaving the state, and I amtold he died in great poverty, and in sore anxiety for his daughter'sfuture. " He added that these events had taken place before his owndeparture from Turin, and that since then he had learned nothing ofFulvia's fate, save that she was said to have made her home with an auntwho lived in a town of the Veneto. 

Odo listened in silence. The lapse of time, and the absence of any linksof association, had dimmed the girl's image in his breast; but at themere sound of her name it lived again, and he felt her interwoven withhis deepest fibres. The picture of her father's death and of her ownneed filled him with an ineffectual pity, and for a moment he thought ofseeking her out; but the other could recall neither the name of the townshe had removed to nor that of the relative who had given her a home. 

To aid the good doctor was a simpler business. The intervention of deCrucis and Odo's own influence sufficed to effect his release, and onthe payment of a heavy fine (in which Odo privately assisted him) he wasreinstated in his chair. The only promise exacted by the Holy Office wasthat he should in future avoid propounding his own views on questionsalready decided by Scripture, and to this he readily agreed, since, ashe shrewdly remarked to Odo, his opinions were now well-known, and anywho wished farther instruction had only to apply to him privately. 

The old Duke having invited Odo to return to Monte Alloro with suchtreasures as he had collected for the ducal galleries, the young manresolved to visit Rome on his way to the North. His acquaintance with deCrucis had grown into something like friendship since their joint effortin behalf of the imprisoned sage, and the abate preparing to set outabout the same time, the two agreed to travel together. The road leadingfrom Naples to Rome was at that time one of the worst in Italy, and wasbesides so ill-provided with inns that there was no inducement to lingeron the way. De Crucis, however, succeeded in enlivening even thistedious journey. He was a good linguist and a sound classical scholar, besides having, as he had told Odo, a pronounced taste for antiquarianresearch. In addition to this, he performed agreeably on the violin, andwas well-acquainted with the history of music. His chief distinction, however, lay in the ease with which he wore his accomplishments, and ina breadth of view that made it possible to discuss with him manysubjects distasteful to most men of his cloth. The sceptical orlicentious ecclesiastic was common enough; but Odo had never before meta priest who united serious piety with this indulgent temper, or who hadlearning enough to do justice to the arguments of his opponents. 

On his venturing one evening to compliment de Crucis on these qualities, the latter replied with a smile: "Whatever has been lately advancedagainst the Jesuits, it can hardly be denied that they were goodschool-masters; and it is to them I owe the talents you have beenpleased to admire. Indeed, " he continued, quietly fingering his violin, "I was myself bred in the order: a fact I do not often make known in thepresent heated state of public opinion, but which I never conceal whencommended for any quality that I owe to the Society rather than to myown merit. "

Surprise for the moment silenced Odo; for though it was known that Italywas full of former Jesuits who had been permitted to remain in thecountry as secular priests, and even to act as tutors or professors inprivate families, he had never thought of de Crucis in this connection. The latter, seeing his surprise, went on: "Once a Jesuit, always aJesuit, I suppose. I at least owe the Society too much not to own mydebt when the occasion offers. Nor could I ever see the force of thecharge so often brought against us: that we sacrifice everything to theglory of the order. For what is the glory of the order? Our own mottohas declared it: Ad majorem Dei gloriam--who works for the Society worksfor its Master. If our zeal has been sometimes misdirected, our bloodhas a thousand times witnessed to its sincerity. In the Indies, inAmerica, in England during the great persecution, and lately on our ownunnatural coasts, the Jesuits have died for Christ as joyfully as Hisfirst disciples died for Him. Yet these are but a small number incomparison with the countless servants of the order who, labouring infar countries among savage peoples, or surrounded by the hereticalenemies of our faith, have died the far bitterer death of moralisolation: setting themselves to their task with the knowledge thattheir lives were but so much indistinguishable dust to be added to thesum of human effort. What association founded on human interests hasever commanded such devotion? And what merely human authority couldcount on such unquestioning obedience, not in a mob of poor illiteratemonks, but in men chosen for their capacity and trained to the exerciseof their highest faculties? Yet there have never lacked such men toserve the Order; and as one of our enemies has said--our noblest enemy, the great Pascal--'je crois volontiers aux histoires dont les temoins sefont egorger. '"

He did not again revert to his connection with the Jesuits; but in thefarther course of their acquaintance Odo was often struck by thefirmness with which he testified to the faith that was in him, withoutusing the jargon of piety, or seeming, by his own attitude, to cast areflection on that of others. He was indeed master of that worldlyscience which the Jesuits excelled in imparting, and which, though itmight sink to hypocrisy in smaller natures, became in a finely-temperedspirit, the very flower of Christian courtesy. 

Odo had often spoken to de Crucis of the luxurious lives led by many ofthe monastic orders in Naples. It might be true enough that the monksthemselves, and even their abbots, fared on fish and vegetables, andgave their time to charitable and educational work; but it wasimpossible to visit the famous monastery of San Martino, or that of theCarthusians at Camaldoli, without observing that the anchoret's cell hadexpanded into a delightful apartment, with bedchamber, library andprivate chapel, and his cabbage-plot into a princely garden. De Crucisadmitted the truth of the charge, explaining it in part by the characterof the Neapolitan people, and by the tendency of the northern travellerto forget that such apparent luxuries as spacious rooms, shady grovesand the like are regarded as necessities in a hot climate. He urged, moreover, that the monastic life should not be judged by a few isolatedinstances; and on the way to Rome he proposed that Odo, by way of seeingthe other side of the question, should visit the ancient foundation ofthe Benedictines on Monte Cassino. 

The venerable monastery, raised on its height over the busy vale ofGarigliano, like some contemplative spirit above the conflictingproblems of life, might well be held to represent the nobler side ofChristian celibacy. For nearly a thousand years its fortified walls hadbeen the stronghold of the humanities, and generations of students hadcherished and added to the treasures of the famous library. But theBenedictine rule was as famous for good works as for learning, and itscomparative abstention from dogmatic controversy and from the mechanicaldevotion of some of the other orders had drawn to it men of superiormind, who sought in the monastic life the free exercise of the noblestactivities rather than a sanctified refuge from action. This wasespecially true of the monastery of Monte Cassino, whither many scholarshad been attracted and where the fathers had long had the highest namefor learning and beneficence. The monastery, moreover, in addition toits charitable and educational work among the poor, maintained a schoolof theology to which students came from all parts of Italy; and theirpresence lent an unwonted life to the great labyrinth of courts andcloisters. 

The abbot, with whom de Crucis was well-acquainted, welcomed thetravellers warmly, making them free of the library and the archives andpressing them to prolong their visit. Under the spell of theseinfluences they lingered on from day to day; and to Odo they were thepleasantest days he had known. To be waked before dawn by the bellringing for lauds--to rise from the narrow bed in his white-washed cell, and opening his casement look forth over the haze-enveloped valley, thedark hills of the Abruzzi and the remote gleam of sea touched into beingby the sunrise--to hasten through hushed echoing corridors to thechurch, where in a grey resurrection-light the fathers were intoning thesolemn office of renewal--this morning ablution of the spirit, so likethe bodily plunge into clear cold water, seemed to attune the mind tothe fullest enjoyment of what was to follow: the hours of study, thetalks with the monks, the strolls through cloister or garden, allpunctuated by the recurring summons to devotion. Yet for all its latentsignificance it remained to him a purely sensuous impression, the visionof a golden leisure: not a solution of life's perplexities, but at bestan honourable escape from them. 

3. 2. 

"To know Rome is to have assisted at the councils of destiny!" This cryof a more famous traveller must have struggled for expression in Odo'sbreast as the great city, the city of cities, laid her irresistible holdupon him. His first impression, as he drove in the clear evening lightfrom the Porta del Popolo to his lodgings in the Via Sistina, was of aprodigious accumulation of architectural effects, a crowding of centuryon century, all fused in the crucible of the Roman sun, so that eachstyle seemed linked to the other by some subtle affinity of colour. Nowhere else, surely, is the traveller's first sight so crowded withsurprises, with conflicting challenges to eye and brain. Here, as hepassed, was a fragment of the ancient Servian wall, there a new stuccoshrine embedded in the bricks of a medieval palace; on one hand a loftyterrace crowned by a row of mouldering busts, on the other a tower withmachicolated parapet, its flanks encrusted with bits of Roman sculptureand the escutcheons of seventeenth-century Popes. Opposite, perhaps, oneof Fuga's golden-brown churches, with windy saints blowing out of theirniches, overlooked the nereids of a barocco fountain, or an old housepropped itself like a palsied beggar against a row of Corinthiancolumns; while everywhere flights of steps led up and down to hanginggardens or under archways, and each turn revealed some distant glimpseof convent-walls on the slope of a vineyard or of red-brown ruinsprofiled against the dim sea-like reaches of the Campagna. 

Afterward, as order was born out of chaos, and he began to thread hisway among the centuries, this first vision lost something of itsintensity; yet it was always, to the last, through the eye that Romepossessed him. Her life, indeed, as though in obedience to such asetting, was an external, a spectacular business, from the wildanimation of the cattle-market in the Forum or the hucksters' trafficamong the fountains of the Piazza Navona, to the pompous entertainmentsin the cardinals' palaces and the ever-recurring religious ceremoniesand processions. Pius VI. , in the reaction from Ganganelli's democraticways, had restored the pomp and ceremonial of the Vatican with thereligious discipline of the Holy Office; and never perhaps had Rome beenmore splendid on the surface or more silent and empty within. Odo, attimes, as he moved through some assemblage of cardinals and nobles, hadthe sensation of walking through a huge reverberating palace, decked outwith all the splendours of art but long since abandoned of men. Thesuperficial animation, the taste for music and antiquities, all thedilettantisms of an idle and irresponsible society, seemed to him toshrivel to dust in the glare of that great past that lit up every cornerof the present. 

Through his own connections, and the influence of de Crucis, he saw allthat was best not only among the nobility, but in that ecclesiasticallife now more than ever predominant in Rome. Here at last he was face toface with the mighty Sphinx, and with the bleaching bones of those whohad tried to guess her riddle. Wherever he went these "lost adventurers"walked the streets with him, gliding between the Princes of the Churchin the ceremonies of Saint Peter's and the Lateran, or mingling in thecompany that ascended the state staircase at some cardinal's levee. 

He met indeed many accomplished and amiable ecclesiastics, but it seemedto him that the more thoughtful among them had either acquired theirpeace of mind at the cost of a certain sensitiveness, or had takenrefuge in a study of the past, as the early hermits fled to the desertfrom the disorders of Antioch and Alexandria. None seemed disposed toface the actual problems of life, and this attitude of caution orindifference had produced a stagnation of thought that contrastedstrongly with the animation of Sir William Hamilton's circle in Naples. The result in Odo's case was a reaction toward the pleasures of his age;and of these Rome had but few to offer. He spent some months in thestudy of the antique, purchasing a few good examples of sculpture forthe Duke, and then, without great reluctance, set out for Monte Alloro. 

Here he found a changed atmosphere. The Duke welcomed him handsomely, and bestowed the highest praise on the rarities he had collected; butfor the moment the court was ruled by a new favourite, to whom Odo'scoming was obviously unwelcome. This adroit adventurer, whose name wassoon to become notorious throughout Europe, had taken the old prince byhis darling weaknesses, and Odo, having no mind to share in the excessesof the precious couple, seized the first occasion to set out again onhis travels. 

His course had now become one of aimless wandering; for prudence stillforbade his return to Pianura, and his patron's indifference left himfree to come and go as he chose. He had brought from Rome--that albergod'ira--a settled melancholy of spirit, which sought refuge in suchdistractions as the moment offered. In such a mood change of scene was anecessity, and he resolved to employ the next months in visiting severalof the mid-Italian cities. Toward Florence he was specially drawn by thefact that Alfieri now lived there; but, as often happens after suchseparations, the reunion was a disappointment. Alfieri, indeed, warmlywelcomed his friend; but he was engrossed in his dawning passion for theCountess of Albany, and that lady's pitiable situation excluded allother interests from his mind. To Odo, to whom the years had brought anincreasing detachment, this self-absorption seemed an arrest in growth;for Alfieri's early worship of liberty had not yet found its destinedchannel of expression, and for the moment his enthusiasms had shrunk tothe compass of a romantic adventure. The friends parted after a few daysof unsatisfying intercourse; and it was under the influence of thisfinal disenchantment that Odo set out for Venice. 

It was the vintage season, and the travellers descended from theApennines on a landscape diversified by the picturesque incidents of thegrape-gathering. On every slope stood some villa with awnings spread, and merry parties were picnicking among the vines or watching thepeasants at their work. Cantapresto, who had shown great reluctance atleaving Monte Alloro, where, as he declared, he found himself as snug asan eel in a pasty, was now all eagerness to press forward; and Odo wasin the mood to allow any influence to decide his course. He had aninvaluable courier in Cantapresto, whose enormous pretensions generallyassured him the best lodging and the fastest conveyance to be obtained, and who was never happier than when outwitting a rival emissary, orbribing a landlord to serve up on Odo's table the repast ordered inadvance for some distinguished traveller. His impatience to reachVenice, which he described as the scene of all conceivable delights, hadon this occasion tripled his zeal, and they travelled rapidly to Padua, where he had engaged a burchiello for the passage down the Brenta. Here, however, he found he had been outdone at his own game; for the servantof an English Duke had captured the burchiello and embarked his nobleparty before Cantapresto reached the wharf. This being the season of thevilleggiatura, when the Venetian nobility were exchanging visits on themainland, every conveyance was in motion and no other boat to be had fora week; while as for the "bucentaur" or public bark, which was just thengetting under way, it was already packed to the gunwale with Jews, pedlars and such vermin, and the captain swore by the three thousandrelics of Saint Justina that he had no room on board for so much as ahungry flea. 

Odo, who had accompanied Cantapresto to the water-side, was listening tothese assurances and to the soprano's vain invectives, when awell-dressed young man stepped up to the group. This gentleman, whoseaccent and dress showed him to be a Frenchman of quality, told Odo thathe was come from Vicenza, whither he had gone to engage a company ofactors for his friend the Procuratore Bra, who was entertaining adistinguished company at his villa on the Brenta; that he was nowreturning with his players, and that he would be glad to convey Odo sofar on his road to Venice. His friend's seat, he added, was near Oriago, but a few miles above Fusina, where a public conveyance might always befound; so that Odo would doubtless be able to proceed the same night toVenice. 

This civil offer Odo at once accepted, and the Frenchman thereuponsuggested that, as the party was to set out the next day at sunrise, thetwo should sup together and pass the intervening hours in suchdiversions as the city offered. They returned to the inn, where theactors were also lodged, and Odo's host having ordered a handsomesupper, proposed, with his guest's permission, to invite the leadingmembers of the company to partake of it. He departed on this errand; andgreat was Odo's wonder, when the door reopened, to discover, among theparty it admitted, his old acquaintance of Vercelli, the Count ofCastelrovinato. The latter, whose dress and person had been refurbished, and who now wore an air of rakish prosperity, greeted him with evidentpleasure, and, while their entertainer was engaged in seating the ladiesof the company, gave him a brief account of the situation. 

The young French gentleman (whom he named as the Marquis deCoeur-Volant) had come to Italy some months previously on the grandtour, and having fallen a victim to the charms of Venice, had declaredthat, instead of continuing on his travels, he meant to complete hiseducation in that famous school of pleasure. Being master of his ownfortune, he had hired a palace on the Grand Canal, had dispatched hisgovernor (a simple archaeologist) on a mission of exploration to Sicilyand Greece, and had devoted himself to an assiduous study of Venetianmanners. Among those contributing to his instruction was Mirandolina ofChioggia, who had just completed a successful engagement at the theatreof San Moise in Venice. Wishing to detain her in the neighbourhood, heradorer had prevailed on his friend the Procuratore to give a series ofcomedies at his villa of Bellocchio and had engaged to provide him witha good company of performers. Miranda was of course selected as primaamorosa; and the Marquess, under Castelrovinato's guidance, had then setout to collect the rest of the company. This he had succeeded in doing, and was now returning to Bellocchio, where Miranda was to meet them. Odowas the more diverted at the hazard which had brought him into suchcompany, as the Procuratore Bra was one of the noblemen to whom the oldDuke had specially recommended him. On learning this, the Marquess urgedhim to present his letter of introduction on arriving at Bellocchio, where the Procuratore, who was noted for hospitality to strangers, woulddoubtless insist on his joining the assembled party. This Odo declinedto do; but his curiosity to see Mirandolina made him hope that chancewould soon throw him in the Procuratore's way. 

Meanwhile supper was succeeded by music and dancing, and the companybroke up only in time to proceed to the landing-place where their bargeawaited them. This was a private burchiello of the Procuratore's with acommodious antechamber for the servants, and a cabin cushioned indamask. Into this agreeable retreat the actresses were packed with alltheir bags and band-boxes; and their travelling-cloaks being rolled intopillows, they were soon asleep in a huddle of tumbled finery. 

Odo and his host preferred to take the air on deck. The sun was risingabove the willow-clad banks of the Brenta, and it was pleasant to glidein the clear early light past sleeping gardens and villas, and vineyardswhere the peasants were already at work. The wind setting from the sea, they travelled slowly and had full leisure to view the succession ofsplendid seats interspersed with gardens, the thriving villages, and thepoplar-groves festooned with vines. Coeur-Volant spoke eloquently of thepleasures to be enjoyed in this delightful season of the villeggiatura. "Nowhere, " said he, "do people take their pleasures so easily andnaturally as in Venice. My countrymen claim a superiority in this art, and it may be they possessed it a generation ago. But what a moroseplace is France become since philosophy has dethroned enjoyment! If yougo on a visit to one of our noblemen's seats, what do you find there, Iask? Cards, comedies, music, the opportunity for an agreeable intriguein the society of your equals? No--but a hostess engaged in suckling andbathing her brats, or in studying chemistry and optics with some dirtyschool-master, who is given the seat of honour at table and a pavilionin the park to which he may retire when weary of the homage of thegreat; while as for the host, he is busy discussing education orpolitical economy with his unfortunate guests, if, indeed, he is notdragging them through leagues of mud and dust to inspect his latestexperiments in forestry and agriculture, or to hear a pack of snufflingschool-children singing hymns to the God of Nature! And what, " hecontinued, "is the result of it all? The peasants are starving, thetaxes are increasing, the virtuous landlords are ruining themselves infarming on scientific principles, the tradespeople are grumbling becausethe nobility do not spend their money in Paris, the court is dull, theclergy are furious, the Queen mopes, the King is frightened, and thewhole French people are yawning themselves to death from Normandy toProvence. "

"Yes, " said Castelrovinato with his melancholy smile, "the test ofsuccess is to have had one's money's worth; but experience, which isdried pleasure, is at best a dusty diet, as we know. Yonder, in a foldof those hills, " he added, pointing to the cluster of Euganean mountainsjust faintly pencilled above the plain, "lies the little fief from whichI take my name. Acre by acre, tree by tree, it has gone to pay for myexperiments, not in agriculture but in pleasure; and whenever I lookover at it from Venice and reflect on what each rood of ground or trunkof tree has purchased, I wonder to see my life as bare as ever for allthat I have spent on it. "

The young Marquess shrugged his shoulders. "And would your life, " heexclaimed, "have been a whit less bare had you passed it in yourancestral keep among those windy hills, in the company of swineherds andcharcoal-burners, with a milk-maid for your mistress and the villagepriest for your partner at picquet?"

"Perhaps not, " the other agreed. "There is a tale of a man who spent hislife in wishing he had lived differently; and when he died he wassurrounded by a throng of spectral shapes, each one exactly like theother, who, on his asking what they were, replied: 'We are all thedifferent lives you might have lived. '"

"If you are going to tell ghost-stories, " cried Coeur-Volant, "I willcall for a bottle of Canary!"

"And I, " rejoined the Count good-humouredly, "will try to coax theladies forth with a song;" and picking up his lute, which always laywithin reach, he began to sing in the Venetian dialect:--

 There's a villa on the Brenta Where the statues, white as snow, All along the water-terrace Perch like sea-gulls in a row. 

 There's a garden on the Brenta Where the fairest ladies meet, Picking roses from the trellis For the gallants at their feet. 

 There's an arbour on the Brenta Made of yews that screen the light, Where I kiss my girl at midday Close as lovers kiss at night. 

The players soon emerged at this call and presently the deck resoundedwith song and laughter. All the company were familiar with the Venetianbacaroles, and Castelrovinato's lute was passed from hand to hand, asone after another, incited by the Marquess's Canary, tried to recallsome favourite measure--"La biondina in gondoleta" or "Guarda, che bellaluna. "

Meanwhile life was stirring in the villages and gardens, and groups ofpeople appearing on the terraces overhanging the water. Never had Odobeheld a livelier scene. The pillared houses with their rows of statuesand vases, the flights of marble steps descending to the gildedriver-gates, where boats bobbed against the landings and boatmen gaspedin the shade of their awnings; the marble trellises hung with grapes, the gardens where parterres of flowers and parti-coloured gravelalternated with the dusk of tunnelled yew-walks; the company playing atbowls in the long alleys, or drinking chocolate in gazebos above theriver; the boats darting hither and thither on the stream itself, thetravelling-chaises, market-waggons and pannier-asses crowding thecauseway along the bank--all were unrolled before him with as littleeffect of reality as the episodes woven in some gaily-tinted tapestry. Even the peasants in the vineyards seemed as merry and thoughtless asthe quality in their gardens. The vintage-time is the holiday of therural year and the day's work was interspersed with frequent intervalsof relaxation. At the villages where the burchiello touched forrefreshments, handsome young women in scarlet bodices came on board withbaskets of melons, grapes, figs and peaches; and under the trellises onthe landings, lads and girls with flowers in their hair were dancing themonferrina to the rattle of tambourines or the chant of some wanderingballad-singer. These scenes were so engaging to the comedians that theycould not be restrained from going ashore and mingling in the villagediversions; and the Marquess, though impatient to rejoin his divinity, was too volatile not to be drawn into the adventure. The whole partyaccordingly disembarked, and were presently giving an exhibition oftheir talents to the assembled idlers, the Pantaloon, Harlequin andDoctor enacting a comical intermezzo which Cantapresto had that morningcomposed for them, while Scaramouch and Columbine joined the dancers, and the rest of the company, seizing on a train of donkeys laden withvegetables for the Venetian market, stripped these patient animals oftheir panniers, and mounting them bareback started a Corso around thevillage square amid the invectives of the drivers and the applause ofthe crowd. 

Day was declining when the Marquess at last succeeded in driving hisflock to their fold, and the moon sent a quiver of brightness across thewater as the burchiello touched at the landing of a villa set amidclose-massed foliage high above the river. Gardens peopled with statuesdescended from the portico of the villa to the marble platform on thewater's edge, where a throng of boatmen in the Procuratore's liveryhurried forward to receive the Marquess and his companions. Thecomedians, sobered by the magnificence of their surroundings, followedtheir leader like awe-struck children. Light and music streamed from thelong facade overhead, but the lower gardens lay hushed and dark, the airfragrant with unseen flowers, the late moon just burnishing the edges ofthe laurel-thickets from which, now and again, a nightingale's songgushed in a fountain of sound. Odo, spellbound, followed the otherswithout a thought of his own share in the adventure. Never before hadbeauty so ministered to every sense. He felt himself lost in hissurroundings, absorbed in the scent and murmur of the night. 

3. 3. 

On the upper terrace a dozen lacqueys with wax lights hastened out toreceive the travellers. A laughing group followed, headed by a tallvivacious woman covered with jewels, whom Odo guessed to be theProcuratessa Bra. The Marquess, hastening forward, kissed the lady'shand, and turned to summon the actors, who hung back at the farther endof the terrace. The light from the windows and from the lacquey's tapersfell full on the motley band, and Odo, roused to the singularity of hisposition, was about to seek shelter behind the Pantaloon when he heard acry of recognition, and Mirandolina, darting out of the Procuratessa'scircle, fell at that lady's feet with a whispered word. 

The Procuratessa at once advanced with a smile of surprise and bade theCavaliere Valsecca welcome. Seeing Odo's embarrassment, she added thathis Highness of Monte Alloro had already apprised her of the cavaliere'scoming, and that she and her husband had the day before despatched amessenger to Venice to enquire if he were already there to invite him tothe villa. At the same moment a middle-aged man with an air of carelesskindly strength emerged from the house and greeted Odo. 

"I am happy, " said he bowing, "to receive at Bellocchio a member of theprincely house of Pianura; and your excellency will no doubt be aswell-pleased as ourselves that accident enables us to make acquaintancewithout the formalities of an introduction. "

This, then, was the famous Procuratore Bra, whose house had given threeDoges to Venice, and who was himself regarded as the most powerful ifnot the most scrupulous noble of his day. Odo had heard many tales ofhis singularities, for in a generation of elegant triflers his figurestood out with the ruggedness of a granite boulder in a clipped andgravelled garden. To hereditary wealth and influence he added a love ofpower seconded by great political sagacity and an inflexible will. Ifhis means were not always above suspicion they at least tended tostatesmanlike ends, and in his public capacity he was faithful to thehighest interests of the state. Reports differed as to his private useof his authority. He was noted for his lavish way of living, and for ahospitality which distinguished him from the majority of his class, who, however showy in their establishments, seldom received strangers, andentertained each other only on the most ceremonious occasions. TheProcuratore kept open house both in Venice and on the Brenta, and in hisdrawing-rooms the foreign traveller was welcomed as freely as in Parisor London. Here, too, were to be met the wits, musicians and literatiwhom a traditional morgue still excluded from many aristocratic houses. Yet in spite of his hospitality (or perhaps because of it) theProcuratore, as Odo knew, was the butt of the very poets he entertained, and the worst satirised man in Venice. It was his misfortune to be inlove with his wife; and this state of mind (in itself sufficientlyridiculous) and the shifts and compromises to which it reduced him, werea source of endless amusement to the humorists. Nor were graver rumourswanting; for it was known that the Procuratore, so proof against otherpersuasions, was helpless in his wife's hands, and that honest men hadbeen undone and scoundrels exalted at a nod of the beautifulProcuratessa. That lady, as famous in her way as her husband, was notedfor quite different qualities; so that, according to one satirist, herhospitality began where his ended, and the Albergo Bra (the nicknametheir palace went by) was advertised in the lampoons of the day asfurnishing both bed and board. In some respects, however, the tastes ofthe noble couple agreed, both delighting in music, wit, good company, and all the adornments of life; while, with regard to their privateconduct, it doubtless suffered by being viewed through the eyes of anarrow and trivial nobility, apt to look with suspicion on any deviationfrom the customs of their class. Such was the household in which Odofound himself unexpectedly included. He learned that his hosts were inthe act of entertaining the English Duke who had captured his burchiellothat morning; and having exchanged his travelling-dress for a moresuitable toilet he was presently conducted to the private theatre wherethe company had gathered to witness an improvised performance byMirandolina and the newly-arrived actors. 

The Procuratessa at once beckoned him to the row of gilt armchairs whereshe sat with the noble Duke and several ladies of distinction. Thelittle theatre sparkled with wax-lights reflected in the facets of glasschandeliers and in the jewels of the richly-habited company, and Odo wasstruck by the refined brilliancy of the scene. Before he had time tolook about him the curtains of the stage were drawn back, andMirandolina flashed into view, daring and radiant as ever, and dressedwith an elegance which spoke well for the liberality of her newprotector. She was as much at her ease as before the vulgar audience ofVercelli, and spite of the distinguished eyes fixed upon her, her smilesand sallies were pointedly addressed to Odo. This made him the object ofthe Procuratessa's banter, but had an opposite effect on the Marquess, who fixed him with an irritated eye and fidgeted restlessly in his seatas the performance went on. 

When the curtain fell the Procuratessa led the company to the circularsaloon which, as in most villas of the Venetian mainland, formed thecentral point of the house. If Odo had been charmed by the gracefuldecorations of the theatre, he was dazzled by the airy splendour of thisapartment. Dance-music was pouring from the arched recesses above thedoorways, and chandeliers of coloured Murano glass diffused a softbrightness over the pilasters of the stuccoed walls, and the floor ofinlaid marbles on which couples were rapidly forming for thecontradance. His eye, however, was soon drawn from these to the ceilingwhich overarched the dancers with what seemed like an Olympian revelreflected in sunset clouds. Over the gilt balustrade surmounting thecornice lolled the figures of fauns, bacchantes, nereids and tritons, hovered over by a cloud of amorini blown like rose-leaves across a rosysky, while in the centre of the dome Apollo burst in his chariot throughthe mists of dawn, escorted by a fantastic procession of the humanraces. These alien subjects of the sun--a fur-clad Laplander, a turbanedfigure on a dromedary, a blackamoor and a plumed American Indian--werein turn surrounded by a rout of Maenads and Silenuses, whose flushedadvance was checked by the breaking of cool green waves, through whichboys wreathed with coral and seaweed disported themselves among shoalsof flashing dolphins. It was as though the genius of Pleasure had pouredall the riches of his inexhaustible realm on the heads of the revellersbelow. 

The Procuratessa brought Odo to earth by remarking that it was amaster-piece of the divine Tiepolo he was admiring. She added that atBellocchio all formalities were dispensed with, and begged him toobserve that, in the rooms opening into the saloon, recreations wereprovided for every taste. In one of these apartments silver trays wereset out with sherbets, cakes, and fruit cooled in snow, while in anotherstood gaming-tables around which the greater number of the company werealready gathering for tresette. A third room was devoted to music; andhither Mirandolina, who was evidently allowed a familiarity ofintercourse not accorded to the other comedians, had withdrawn with thepacified Marquess, and perched on the arm of a high gilt chair waspinching the strings of a guitar and humming the first notes of aboatman's song... 

After completing the circuit of the rooms Odo stepped out on theterrace, which was now bathed in the whiteness of a soaring moon. Thecolonnades detached against silver-misted foliage, the gardensspectrally outspread, seemed to enclose him in a magic circle ofloveliness which the first ray of daylight must dispel. He wandered on, drawn to the depths of shade on the lower terraces. The hush grewdeeper, the murmur of the river more mysterious. A yew-arbour invitedhim and he seated himself on the bench niched in its inmost dusk. Seenthrough the black arch of the arbour the moonlight lay like snow onparterres and statues. He thought of Maria Clementina, and of thedelight she would have felt in such a scene as he had just left. Thenthe remembrance of Mirandolina's blandishments stole over him and spiteof himself he smiled at the Marquess's discomfiture. Though he was in nohumour for an intrigue his fancy was not proof against the romance ofhis surroundings, and it seemed to him that Miranda's eyes had neverbeen so bright or her smile so full of provocation. No wonder Frattantofollowed her like a lost soul and the Marquess abandoned Rome andBaalbec to sit at the feet of such a teacher! Had not that lightphilosopher after all chosen the true way and guessed the Sphinx'sriddle? Why should today always be jilted for tomorrow, sensationsacrificed to thought?

As he sat revolving these questions the yew-branches seemed to stir, andfrom some deeper recess of shade a figure stole to his side. He started, but a hand was laid on his lips and he was gently forced back into hisseat. Dazzled by the outer moonlight he could just guess the outline ofthe figure pressed against his own. He sat speechless, yielding to thecharm of the moment, till suddenly he felt a rapid kiss and the visitorvanished as mysteriously as she had come. He sprang up to follow, butinclination failed with his first step. Let the spell of mystery remainunbroken! He sank down on the seat again lulled by dreamy musings... 

When he looked up the moonlight had faded and he felt a chill in theair. He walked out on the terrace. The moon hung low and the tree-topswere beginning to tremble. The villa-front was grey, with oblongs ofyellow light marking the windows of the ball-room. As he looked up atit, the dance-music ceased and not a sound was heard but the stir of thefoliage and the murmur of the river against its banks. Then, from aloggia above the central portico, a woman's clear contralto notes tookflight:

 Before the yellow dawn is up, With pomp of shield and shaft, Drink we of Night's fast-ebbing cup One last delicious draught. 

 The shadowy wine of Night is sweet, With subtle slumbrous fumes Crushed by the Hours' melodious feet From bloodless elder-blooms... 

The days at Bellocchio passed in a series of festivities. The morningswere spent in drinking chocolate, strolling in the gardens and visitingthe fish-ponds, meanders and other wonders of the villa; thence thegreater number of guests were soon drawn to the card-tables, from whichthey rose only to dine; and after an elaborate dinner prepared by aFrench cook the whole company set out to explore the country or toexchange visits with the hosts of the adjoining villas. Each eveningbrought some fresh diversion: a comedy or an operetta in the miniaturetheatre, an al fresco banquet on the terrace or a ball attended by theprincipal families of the neighbourhood. Odo soon contrived to reassurethe Marquess as to his designs upon Miranda, and when Coeur-Volant wasnot at cards the two young men spent much of their time together. TheMarquess was never tired of extolling the taste and ingenuity with whichthe Venetians planned and carried out their recreations. "Natureherself, " said he, "seems the accomplice of their merry-making, and inno other surroundings could man's natural craving for diversion find sograceful and poetic an expression. "

The scene on which they looked out seemed to confirm his words. It wasthe last evening of their stay at Bellocchio, and the Procuratessa hadplanned a musical festival on the river. Festoons of coloured lanternswound from the portico to the water; and opposite the landing lay theProcuratore's Bucentaur, a great barge hung with crimson velvet. In theprow were stationed the comedians, in airy mythological dress, and asthe guests stepped on board they were received by Miranda, a rosy Venuswho, escorted by Mars and Adonis, recited an ode composed by Cantaprestoin the Procuratessa's honour. A banquet was spread in the deck-house, which was hung with silk arras and Venetian mirrors, and, while theguests feasted, dozens of little boats hung with lights and filled withmusicians flitted about the Bucentaur like a swarm of musicalfireflies... 

The next day Odo accompanied the Procuratessa to Venice. Had he been atraveller from beyond the Alps he could hardly have been more unpreparedfor the spectacle that awaited him. In aspect and customs Venicediffered almost as much from other Italian cities as from those of therest of Europe. From the fanciful stone embroidery of her churches andpalaces to a hundred singularities in dress and manners--thefull-bottomed wigs and long gowns of the nobles, the black mantles andhead-draperies of the ladies, the white masks worn abroad by both sexes, the publicity of social life under the arcades of the Piazza, theextraordinary freedom of intercourse in the casini, gaming-rooms andtheatres--the city proclaimed, in every detail of life and architecture, her independence of any tradition but her own. This was the moresingular as Saint Mark's square had for centuries been the meeting-placeof East and West, and the goal of artists, scholars and pleasure-seekersfrom all parts of the world. Indeed, as Coeur-Volant pointed out, theVenetian customs almost appeared to have been devised for theconvenience of strangers. The privilege of going masked at almost allseasons and the enforced uniformity of dress, which in itself provided akind of incognito, made the place singularly favourable to every kind ofintrigue and amusement; while the mild temper of the people and thewatchfulness of the police prevented the public disorders that suchlicense might have occasioned. These seeming anomalies abounded on everyside. From the gaming-table where a tinker might set a ducat against aprince it was but a few steps to the Broglio, or arcade under the ducalpalace, into which no plebeian might intrude while the nobility walkedthere. The great ladies, who were subject to strict sumptuary laws, andmight not display their jewels or try the new French fashions but on thesly, were yet privileged at all hours to go abroad alone in theirgondolas. No society was more haughty and exclusive in its traditions, yet the mask leveled all classes and permitted, during the greater partof the year, an equality of intercourse undreamed of in other cities;while the nobles, though more magnificently housed than in any othercapital of Europe, generally sought amusement at the public casini orassembly-rooms instead of receiving company in their own palaces. Suchwere but a few of the contradictions in a city where the theatres werenamed after the neighbouring churches, where there were innumerablereligious foundations but scarce an ecclesiastic to be met in company, and where the ladies of the laity dressed like nuns, while the nuns inthe aristocratic convents went in gala habits and with uncovered heads. No wonder that to the bewildered stranger the Venetians seemed to keepperpetual carnival and Venice herself to be as it were the mere stage ofsome huge comic interlude. 

To Odo the setting was even more astonishing than the performance. Neverhad he seen pleasure and grace so happily allied, all the arts of lifeso combined in the single effort after enjoyment. Here was not a meretendency to linger on the surface, but the essence of superficialityitself; not an ignoring of what lies beneath, but an elimination of it;as though all human experience should be beaten thin and spread outbefore the eye like some brilliant tenuous plaque of Etruscan gold. Andin this science of pleasure--mere jeweller's work though it were--thegreatest artists had collaborated, each contributing his page to thephilosophy of enjoyment in the form of some radiant allegory floweringfrom palace wall or ceiling like the enlarged reflection of the lifebeneath it. Nowhere was the mind arrested by a question or an idea. Thought slunk away like an unmasked guest at the ridotto. Sensationruled supreme, and each moment was an iridescent bubble fresh-blown fromthe lips of fancy. 

Odo brought to the spectacle the humour best fitted for its enjoyment. His weariness and discouragement sought refuge in the emotionalsatisfaction of the hour. Here at least the old problem of living hadbeen solved, and from the patrician taking the air in his gondola to thegondolier himself, gambling and singing on the water-steps of hismaster's palace, all seemed equally satisfied with the solution. Now ifever was the time to cry "halt!" to the present, to forget the travelledroad and take no thought for the morrow... 

The months passed rapidly and agreeably. The Procuratessa was the mostamiable of guides, and in her company Odo enjoyed the best that Venicehad to offer, from the matchless music of the churches and hospitals tothe petits soupers in the private casini of the nobility; whileCoeur-Volant and Castelrovinato introduced him to scenes where even alady of the Procuratessa's intrepidity might not venture. 

Such a life left little time for thoughtful pleasures; nor did Odo findin the society about him any sympathy with his more personal tastes. Atfirst he yielded willingly enough to the pressure of his surroundings, glad to escape from thoughts of the past and speculations about thefuture; but it was impossible for him to lose his footing in such anelement, and at times he felt the lack of such companionship as deCrucis had given him. There was no society in Venice corresponding withthe polished circles of Milan or Naples, or with the academic class insuch University towns as Padua and Pavia. The few Venetians destined tobe remembered among those who had contributed to the intellectualadvancement of Italy vegetated in obscurity, suffering not so much fromreligious persecution--for the Inquisition had little power inVenice--as from the incorrigible indifference of a society which ignoredall who did not contribute to its amusement. Odo indeed might havesought out these unhonoured prophets, but that all the influences abouthim set the other way, and that he was falling more and more into thehabit of running with the tide. Now and then, however, a vague ennuidrove him to one of the bookshops which, throughout Italy were the chiefmeeting-places of students and authors. On one of these occasions thedealer invited him into a private room where he kept some rare volumes, and here Odo was surprised to meet Andreoni, the liberal bookseller ofPianura. 

Andreoni at first seemed somewhat disconcerted by the meeting; butpresently recovering his confidence, he told Odo that he had beenrecently banished from Pianura, the cause of his banishment being thepublication of a book on taxation that was supposed to reflect on thefiscal system of the duchy. Though he did not name the author, Odo atonce suspected Gamba; but on his enquiring if the latter had also beenbanished, Andreoni merely replied that he had been dismissed from hispost, and had left Pianura. The bookseller went on to say that he hadcome to Venice with the idea of setting up his press either there or inPadua, where his wife's family lived. Odo was eager to hear more; butAndreoni courteously declined to wait on him at his lodgings, on theplea that it might harm them both to be seen together. They agreed, however, to meet in San Zaccaria after low mass the next morning, andhere Andreoni gave Odo a fuller report of recent events in the duchy. 

It appeared that in the incessant see-saw of party influences the Churchhad once more gained on the liberals. Trescorre was out of favour, theDominican had begun to show his hand more openly, and the Duke, morethan ever apprehensive about his health, was seeking to conciliateheaven by his renewed persecution of the reformers. In the generalupheaval even Crescenti had nearly lost his place; and it was rumouredthat he kept it only through the intervention of the Pope, who hadrepresented to the Duke that the persecution of a scholar already famousthroughout Europe would reflect little credit on the Church. 

As for Gamba, Andreoni, though unwilling to admit a knowledge of hisexact whereabouts, assured Odo that he was well and had not lostcourage. At court matters remained much as usual. The Duchess, surrounded by her familiars, had entered on a new phase of madexpenditure, draining the exchequer to indulge her private whims, filling her apartments with mountebanks and players, and borrowing fromcourtiers and servants to keep her creditors from the door. Trescorrewas no longer able to check her extravagance, and his influence with theDuke being on the wane, the court was once more the scene of unseemlyscandals and disorders. 

The only new figure to appear there since Odo's departure was that ofthe little prince's governor, who had come from Rome a few monthspreviously to superintend the heir's education, which was found to havebeen grievously neglected under his former masters. This was anecclesiastic, an ex-Jesuit as some said, but without doubt a man ofparts, and apparently of more tolerant views than the other churchmenabout the court. 

"But, " Andreoni added, "your excellency may chance to recall him; for heis the same abate de Crucis who was sent to Pianura by the Holy Officeto arrest the German astrologer. "

Odo heard him with surprise. He had had no news of de Crucis since theirparting in Rome, where, as he supposed, the latter was to remain forsome years in the service of Prince Bracciano. Odo was at a loss toconceive how or why the Jesuit had come to Pianura; but, whatever hisreasons for being there, it was certain that his influence must makeitself felt far beyond the range of his immediate duties. Whether thisinfluence would be exerted for good or ill it was impossible toforecast; but much as Odo admired de Crucis, he could not forget thatthe Jesuit, by his own avowal, was still the servant of the greatestorganised opposition to moral and intellectual freedom that the worldhad ever known. That this opposition was not always actively manifestedOdo was well aware. He knew that the Jesuit spirit moved in manydirections and that its action was often more beneficial than that ofits opponents; but it remained an incalculable element in thecomposition of human affairs, and one the more to be feared since, inceasing to have a material existence, it had acquired the dreadpervasiveness of an idea. 

With the Epiphany the wild carnival-season set in. Nothing could surpassthe excesses of this mad time. All classes seemed bitten by thetarantula of mirth, every gondola hid an intrigue, the patrician'stabarro concealed a noble lady, the feminine hood and cloak a youngspark bent on mystification, the friar's habit a man of pleasure and thenun's veil a lady of the town. The Piazza swarmed with merry-makers ofall degrees. The square itself was taken up by the booths of hucksters, rope-dancers and astrologers, while promenaders in travesty thronged thearcades, and the ladies of the nobility, in their white masks and blackzendaletti, surveyed the scene from the windows of the assembly-rooms inthe Procuratie, or, threading the crowd on the arms of their gallants, visited the various peep-shows and flocked about the rhinocerosexhibited in a great canvas tent in the Piazzetta. The characteristiccontrasts of Venetian life seemed to be emphasised by the vagaries ofthe carnival, and Odo never ceased to be diverted by the sight of a longline of masqueraders in every kind of comic disguise kneeling devoutlybefore the brilliantly-lit shrine of the Virgin under the arches of theProcuratie, while the friar who led their devotions interrupted hislitany whenever the quack on an adjoining platform began to bawl througha tin trumpet the praise of his miraculous pills. 

The mounting madness culminated on Giovedi Grasso, the last Thursdaybefore Lent, when the Piazzetta became the scene of ceremonies in whichthe Doge himself took part. These opened with the decapitation of threebulls: a rite said to commemorate some long-forgotten dispute betweenthe inveterate enemies, Venice and Aquileia. The bulls, preceded byhalberdiers and trumpeters, and surrounded by armed attendants, were ledin state before the ducal palace, and the executioner, practised in hisbloody work, struck off each head with a single stroke of his hugesword. This slaughter was succeeded by pleasanter sights, such as thefamous Vola, or flight of a boy from the bell-tower of Saint Mark's to awindow of the palace, where he presented a nosegay to his Serenity andwas caught up again to his airy vaulting-ground. After this ingeniousfeat came another called the "Force of Hercules, " given by a band ofyouths who, building themselves into a kind of pyramid, shifted theirpostures with inexhaustible agility, while bursts of fireworks woveyellow arches through the midday light. Meanwhile the crowds in thestreets fled this way and that as a throng of uproarious young fellowsdrove before them the bulls that were to be baited in the open squares;and wherever a recessed doorway or the angle of a building affordedshelter from the rout, some posture-maker or ballad-singer had gathereda crowd about his carpet. 

Ash Wednesday brought about a dramatic transformation. Every travestylaid aside, every tent and stall swept away, the people again gatheredin the Piazza to receive the ashes of penitence on their heads, thechurches now became the chief centres of interest. Venice was noted forher sacred music and for the lavish illumination of her favouriteshrines and chapels; and few religious spectacles were more impressivethan the Forty Hours' devotion in the wealthier churches of the city. All the magic of music, painting and sculpture were combined in theservice of religion, and Odo's sense of the dramatic quality of theCatholic rites found gratification in the moving scenes where, amid theimperishable splendours of his own creation, man owned himself but dust. Never before had he been so alive to the symbolism of the penitentialseason, so awed by the beauty and symmetry of that great structure ofthe Liturgical Year that leads the soul up, step by step, to the awfulheights of Calvary. The very carelessness of those about him seemed todeepen the solemnity of the scenes enacted--as though the Church, afterall her centuries of dominion, were still, as in those early days, but avoice crying in the wilderness. 

The Easter bells ushered in the reign of another spirit. If the carnivalfolly was spent, the joy of returning life replaced it. After the winterdiversions of cards, concerts and theatres, came the excursions to theisland-gardens of the lagoon and the evening promenade of the fresca onthe Grand Canal. Now the palace-windows were hung with awnings, theoleanders in the balconies grew rosy against the sea-worn marble, andyellow snap-dragons blossomed from the crumbling walls. The market-boatsbrought early fruits and vegetables from the Brenta and roses andgilly-flowers from the Paduan gardens; and when the wind set from shoreit carried with it the scent of lime-blossoms and flowering fields. Nowalso was the season when the great civic and religious processions tookplace, dyeing the water with sunset hues as they swept from the steps ofthe Piazzetta to San Giorgio, the Redentore or the Salute. In thefashionable convents the nuns celebrated the festivals of their patronsaints with musical and dramatic entertainments to which secularvisitors were invited. These entertainments were a noted feature ofVenetian life, and the subject of much scandalous comment among visitorsfrom beyond the Alps. The nuns of the stricter orders were as closelycloistered as elsewhere; but in the convents of Santa Croce, SantaChiara, and a few others, mostly filled by the daughters of thenobility, an unusual liberty prevailed. It was known that the inmateshad taken the veil for family reasons, and to the indulgent Venetiantemper it seemed natural that their seclusion should be made as littleirksome as possible. As a rule the privileges accorded to the nunsconsisted merely in their being allowed to receive visits in thepresence of a lay-sister, and to perform in concerts on the feast-daysof the order; but some few convents had a name for far greater license, and it was a common thing for the noble libertine returned from Italy toboast of his intrigue with a Venetian nun. 

Odo, in the Procuratessa's train, had of course visited many of theprincipal convents. Whether it were owing to the malicious pleasure ofcontrasting their own state with that of their cloistered sisters, or tothe discreet shelter which the parlour afforded to their privateintrigues, the Venetian ladies were exceedingly partial to these visits. The Procuratessa was no exception to the rule, and as was natural to oneof her complexion, she preferred the convents where the greatest freedomprevailed. Odo, however, had hitherto found little to tempt him in theseglimpses of forbidden fruit. The nuns, though often young and pretty, had the insipidity of women secluded from the passions and sorrows oflife without being raised above them; and he preferred the frankcoarseness of the Procuratessa's circle to the simpering graces of thecloister. 

Even Coeur-Volant's mysterious boast of a conquest he had made among thesisters failed to excite his friend's curiosity. The Marquess, thoughstill devoted to Miranda, was too much the child of his race not to seekvariety in his emotions; indeed he often declared that the one fault ofthe Italian character was its unimaginative fidelity in love-affairs. 

"Does a man, " he asked, "dine off one dish at a gourmet's banquet? Andwhy should I restrict myself to one course at the most richly-spreadtable in Europe? One must love at least two women to appreciate either;and, did the silly creatures but know it, a rival becomes them like apatch. "

Sister Mary of the Crucifix, he went on to explain, possessed the veryqualities that Miranda lacked. The daughter of a rich nobleman ofTreviso, she was skilled in music, drawing and all the operations of theneedle, and was early promised in marriage to a young man whose estatesadjoined her father's. The jealousy of a younger sister, who wassecretly in love with the suitor, caused her to accuse Coeur-Volant'smistress of misconduct and thus broke off the marriage; and the unhappygirl, repudiated by her bridegroom, was at once despatched to a conventin Venice. Enraged at her fate, she had repeatedly appealed to theauthorities to release her; but her father's wealth and influenceprevailed against all her efforts. The abbess, however, felt such pityfor her that she was allowed more freedom than the other nuns, with whomher wit and beauty made her a favourite in spite of her exceptionalprivileges. These, as Coeur-Volant hinted, included the liberty ofleaving the convent after night-fall to visit her friends; and heprofessed to be one of those whom she had thus honoured. Always eager tohave his good taste ratified by the envy of his friends, he was urgentwith Odo to make the lady's acquaintance, and it was agreed that, on thefirst favourable occasion, a meeting should take place at Coeur-Volant'scasino. The weeks elapsed, however, without Odo's hearing further of thematter, and it had nearly passed from his mind when one August day hereceived word that the Marquess hoped for his company that evening. 

He was in that mood of careless acquiescence when any novelty invites, and the heavy warmth of the summer night seemed the accomplice of hishumour. Cloaked and masked, he stepped into his gondola and was sweptrapidly along the Grand Canal and through winding channels to theGiudecca. It was close on midnight and all Venice was abroad. Gondolasladen with musicians and hung with coloured lamps lay beneath the palacewindows or drifted out on the oily reaches of the lagoon. There was nomoon, and the side-canals were dark and noiseless but for the hundredsof caged nightingales that made every byway musical. As his prow slippedpast garden walls and under the blackness of low-ached bridges Odo feltthe fathomless mystery of the Venetian night: not the open night of thelagoons, but the secret dusk of nameless waterways between blind windowsand complaisant gates. 

At one of these his gondola presently touched. The gate was cautiouslyunbarred and Odo found himself in a strip of garden preceding a lowpavilion in which not a light was visible. A woman-servant led himindoors and the Marquess greeted him on the threshold. 

"You are late!" he exclaimed. "I began to fear you would not be here toreceive our guests with me. "

"Your guests?" Odo repeated. "I had fancied there was but one. "

The Marquess smiled. "My dear Mary of the Crucifix, " he said, "is toowell-born to venture out alone at this late hour, and has prevailed onher bosom friend to accompany her. --Besides, " he added with hisdeprecating shrug, "I own I have had too recent an experience of yoursuccess to trust you alone with my enchantress; and she has promised tobring the most fascinating nun in the convent to protect her from yourwiles. "

As he spoke he led Odo into a room furnished in the luxurious style of aFrench boudoir. A Savonnerie carpet covered the floor, the lounges andeasy-chairs were heaped with cushions, and the panels hung with pasteldrawings of a lively or sentimental character. The windows toward thegarden were close-shuttered, but those on the farther side of the roomstood open on a starlit terrace whence the eye looked out over thelagoon to the outer line of islands. 

"Confess, " cried Coeur-Volant, pointing to a table set with delicaciesand flanked by silver wine-coolers, "that I have spared no pains to domy goddess honour and that this interior must present an agreeablecontrast to the whitewashed cells and dismal refectory of her convent!No passion, " he continued, with his quaint didactic air, "is sosusceptible as love to the influence of its surroundings; and principleswhich might have held out against a horse-hair sofa and soupe a l'oignonhave before now been known to succumb to silk cushions and champagne. "

He received with perfect good-humour the retort that if he failed in hisdesigns his cook and his upholsterer would not be to blame; and theyoung men were still engaged in such banter when the servant returned tosay that a gondola was at the water-gate. The Marquess hastened out andpresently reappeared with two masked and hooded figures. The first ofthese, whom he led by the hand, entered with the air of one notunaccustomed to her surroundings; but the other hung back, and on theMarquess's inviting them to unmask, hurriedly signed to her friend torefuse. 

"Very well, fair strangers, " said Coeur-Volant with a laugh; "if youinsist on prolonging our suspense we shall avenge ourselves byprolonging yours, and neither my friend nor I will unmask till you arepleased to set us the example. "

The first lady echoed his laugh. "Shall I own, " she cried, "that Isuspect in this unflattering compliance a pretext to conceal yourfriend's features from me as long as possible? For my part, " shecontinued, throwing back her hood, "the mask of hypocrisy I am compelledto wear in the convent makes me hate every form of disguise, and withall my defects I prefer to be known as I am. " And with that she detachedher mask and dropped the cloak from her shoulders. 

The gesture revealed a beauty of the laughing sensuous type best suitedto such surroundings. Sister Mary of the Crucifix, in her sumptuous gownof shot-silk, with pearls wound through her reddish hair and hanging onher bare shoulders, might have stepped from some festal canvas ofBonifazio's. She had laid aside even the light gauze veil worn by thenuns in gala habit, and no vestige of her calling showed itself in dressor bearing. 

"Do you accept my challenge, cavaliere?" she exclaimed, turning on Odo aglance confident of victory. 

The Marquess meanwhile had approached the other nun with the intentionof inducing her to unmask; but as Sister Mary of the Crucifix advancedto perform the same service for his friend, his irrepressible jealousymade him step hastily between them. 

"Come cavaliere, " he cried, drawing Odo gaily toward the unknown nun, "since you have induced one of our fair guests to unmask perhaps you maybe equally successful with the other, who appears provokinglyindifferent to my advances. "

The masked nun had in fact retreated to a corner of the room and stoodthere, drawing her cloak about her, rather in the attitude of afrightened child than in that of a lady bent on a gallant adventure. 

Sister Mary of the Crucifix approached her playfully. "My dear SisterVeronica, " said she, throwing her arm about the other's neck, "hesitatesto reveal charms which she knows must cast mine in the shade; but I amnot to be outdone in generosity, and if the Marquess will unmask hisfriend I will do the same by mine. "

As she spoke she deftly pinioned the nun's hands and snatched off hermask with a malicious laugh. The Marquess, entering into her humour, removed Odo's at the same instant, and the latter, turning with a laugh, found himself face to face with Fulvia Vivaldi. He grew white, and Maryof the Crucifix sprang forward to catch her friend. 

"Good God! What is this?" gasped the Marquess, staring from one to theother. 

A glance of entreaty from Fulvia checked the answer on Odo's lips, andfor a moment there was silence in the room; then Fulvia, breaking awayfrom her companion, fled out on the terrace. The other was about tofollow; but Odo, controlling himself, stepped between them. 

"Madam, " said he in a low voice, "I recognise in your companion a friendof whom I have long had no word. Will you pardon me if I speak with heralone?"

Sister Mary drew back with a meaning sparkle in her handsome eyes. "Why, this, " she cried, not without a touch of resentment, "is the prettiestending imaginable; but what a sly creature, to be sure, to make me thinkit was her first assignation!"

Odo, without answering, hastened out on the terrace. It was so darkafter the brightly lit room that for a moment he did not distinguish thefigure which had sprung to the low parapet above the water; and hestumbled forward just in time to snatch Fulvia back to safety. 

"This is madness!" he cried, as she hung upon him trembling. 

"The boat, " she stammered in a strange sobbing voice--"the boat shouldbe somewhere below--"

"The boat lies at the water-gate on the other side, " he answered. 

She drew away from him with a gesture of despair. The struggle withSister Mary had disordered her hair and it fell on her white neck inloosened strands. "My cloak--my mask--" she faltered vaguely, claspingher hands across her bosom; then suddenly dropped to a seat and burstinto tears. Once before--but in how different a case!--he had seen herthus thrilled with weeping. Then fate had thrown him humbled at herfeet, now it was she who cried him mercy in every line of her bowed headand shaken breast; and the thought of that other meeting flooded hisheart with pity. 

He knelt before her, seeking her hands. "Fulvia, why do you shrink fromme?" he whispered. But she shook her head and wept on. 

At last her sobs subsided and she rose to her feet. "I must go back, "said she in a low tone, and would have passed him. 

"Back? To the convent?"

"To the convent, " she said after him; but she made no farther effort tomove. 

The question that tortured him sprang forth. "You have taken the vows?"

"A month since, " she answered. 

He hid his face in his hands and for a moment both were silent. "And youhave no other word for me--none?" he faltered at last. 

She fixed him with a hard bright stare. "Yes--one, " she cried; "keep aplace for me among your gallant recollections. "

"Fulvia!" he said with sudden strength, and caught her by the arm. 

"Let me pass!" she cried. 

"No, by heaven!" he retorted; "not till you listen to me--not till youtell me how it is that I come upon you here!--Ah, child, " he broke out, "do you fancy I don't see how little you belong in such scenes? That Idon't know you are here through some dreadful error? Fulvia, " hepleaded, "will you never trust me?" And at the word he burned withblushes in the darkness. 

His voice, perhaps, rather than what he said, seemed to have struck ayielding fibre. He felt her arm tremble in his hold; but after a momentshe said with cruel distinctness: "There was no error. I came knowingly. It was the company and not the place I was deceived in. "

Odo drew back with a start; then, as if in spite of himself, he brokeinto a laugh. "By the saints, " said he, almost joyously, "I am sorry tobe where I am not wanted; but since no better company offers, will younot make the best of mine and suffer me to hand you in to supper withour friends?" And with a low bow he offered her his arm. 

The effect was instantaneous. He saw her catch at the balustrade forsupport. 

"Sancta simplicitas!" he exulted, "and did you think to play the part atsuch short notice?" He fell at her feet and covered her hands withkisses. "My Fulvia! My poor child! come with me, come away from here, "he entreated. "I know not what mad hazard has brought us thus together, but I thank God on my knees for the encounter. You shall tell me all ornothing, as you please--you shall presently dismiss me at yourconvent-gate, and never see me again if you so will it--but till then, Iswear, you are in my charge, and no human power shall come between us!"

As he ended the Marquess's voice called gaily through the open window:"Friends, the burgundy is uncorked! Will you not join us in a glass ofgood French wine?"

Fulvia flung herself upon Odo. "Yes--yes; away--take me away from here!"she cried, clinging to him. She had gathered her cloak about her anddrawn the hood over her disordered hair. "Away! Away!" she repeated. "Icannot see them again. Good God, is there no other way out?"

With a gesture he warned her to be silent and drew her along the terracein the shadow of the house. The gravel creaked beneath their feet, andshe shook at the least sound; but her hand lay in his like a child's andhe felt himself her master. At the farther end of the terrace a flightof steps led to a narrow strip of shore. He helped her down and afterlistening a moment gave a whistle. Presently they heard a low plash ofoars and saw the prow of a gondola cautiously rounding the angle of theterrace. The water was shallow and the boatmen proceeded slowly and atlength paused a few yards from the land. 

"We can come no nearer, " one of them called; "what is it?"

"Your mistress is unwell and wishes to return, " Odo answered; andcatching Fulvia in his arms he waded out with her to the gondola andlifted her over the side. "To Santa Chiara!" he ordered, as he laid heron the cushions beneath the felze; and the boatmen, recognising her asone of their late fares, without more ado began to row rapidly towardthe city. 

3. 4. 

In the pitying darkness of the gondola she lay beyond speech, her handin his, her breath coming fitfully. Odo waited in suspense, not daringto question her, yet sure that if she did not speak then she would neverdo so. All doubt and perplexity of spirit had vanished in the simplesense of her nearness. The throb of her hand in his was like theheart-beat of hope. He felt himself no longer a drifting spectator oflife but a sharer in its gifts and renunciations. Which this meetingwould bring he dared not yet surmise: it was enough that he was withFulvia and that love had freed his spirit. 

At length she began to speak. Her agitation was so great that he haddifficulty in piecing together the fragments of her story; but for themoment he was more concerned in regaining her confidence than in seekingto obtain a clear picture of the past. Before she could end, the gondolarounded the corner of the narrow canal skirting the garden-wall of SantaChiara. Alarmed lest he should lose her again he passionately urged herto receive him on the morrow; and after some hesitation she consented. Amoment later their prow touched the postern and the boatman gave a lowcall which proved him no novice at the business. Fulvia signed to Odonot to speak or move; and they sat listening intently for the opening ofthe gate. As soon as it was unbarred she sprang ashore and vanished inthe darkness of the garden; and with a cold sense of failure Odo heardthe bolt slipping back and the stealthy fall of the oars as the gondolaslid away under the shadow of the convent-wall. Whither was he beingcarried and would that bolt ever be drawn for him again? In the sultrydawn the convent loomed forbiddingly as a prison, and he could hardlybelieve that a few hours earlier the very doors now closed against himhad stood open to all the world. They would open again; but whether tohim, who could conjecture? He was resolved to see Fulvia again, but heshrank from the thought of forcing himself upon her. She had promised toreceive him; but what revulsion of feeling might not the morrow bring?

Unable to sleep, he bade the boatmen carry him to the Lido. The sun wasjust rising above the Friulian Alps and the lagoon lay dull and smoothas a breathed-on mirror. As he paced the lonely sands he tried toreconstruct Fulvia's broken story, supplementing it with such details ashis experience of Venetian life suggested. It appeared that after herfather's death she had found herself possessed of a small sum of moneywhich he had painfully accumulated for her during the two years they hadspent in Pavia. Her only thought was to employ this inheritance inpublishing the great work on the origin of civilisation which Vivaldihad completed a few days before his last seizure. Through one of theprofessors of the University, who had been her father's friend, shenegotiated with a printer of Amsterdam for the production of the book, and the terms being agreed on, despatched the money and the manuscriptthither by a sure hand. Both were duly delivered and the publisher hadadvanced so far in his work as to send Fulvia the proof-sheets of thefirst chapters, when he took alarm at the renewed activity of the HolyOffice in France and Italy, declared there would be no market for thebook in the present state of affairs, and refused either to continueprinting it, or to restore the money, which he said had barely coveredthe setting-up of the type. Fulvia then attempted to recover themanuscript; but the publisher refusing to surrender it, she foundherself doubly beggared at a stroke. 

In this extremity she turned to a sister of her father's, who lived nearTreviso; and this excellent woman, though persuaded that her brother'sheretical views had doomed him to everlasting torment, did not scrupleto offer his child a home. Here Fulvia had lived for two years when heraunt's sudden death left her destitute; for the good lady, to atone forhaving given shelter to a niece of doubtful orthodoxy, had left thewhole of her small property to the Church. 

Fulvia's only other relations were certain distant cousins of hermother's, members of the Venetian nobility, but of the indigent classcalled Barnabotti, who lived on the bounty of the state. While inTreviso she had made the acquaintance of one of these cousins, astirring noisy fellow involved in all the political agitations of thestate. It was among the Barnabotti, the class most indebted to thegovernment, that these seditious movements generally arose; and Fulvia'scousin was one of the most notorious malcontents of his order. She hadmistaken his revolutionary bluster for philosophic enlightenment; and, persuaded that he shared in her views, she rashly appealed to him forhelp. With the most eloquent expressions of sympathy he offered her ahome under his own roof; but on reaching Venice she was but ill-receivedby his wife and family, who made no scruple of declaring that, being butpensioners themselves, they were in no state to nourish their pauperrelatives. Fulvia could not but own that they were right; for they livedin the garret of a half-ruined house, pawning their very beds to pay forices in the Piazza and sitting at home all the week in dirty shifts andnight-caps that they might go to mass in silk and powder on a Sunday. After two months of wretchedness with these unfriendly hosts, whom shevainly tried to conciliate by a hundred little services and attentionsthe poor girl resolved to return to Milan, where she hoped to obtainsome menial position in the household of one of her father's friends. Her cousins, at this, made a great outcry, protesting that none of theirblood should so demean herself, and that they would spare no efforts tofind some better way of providing for her. Their noble connections gaveFulvia the hope that they might obtain a small pension for her, and sheunsuspiciously yielded to their wishes; but to her dismay she learned afew weeks later, that, thanks to their exertions, she was to be admittedas a novice to the convent of Santa Chiara. Though it was the common wayof disposing of portionless girls, the liberal views of her cousins hadreassured Fulvia, and she woke to her fate too late to escape it. Shewas to enter on her novitiate on the morrow; but even had delay beenpossible she knew that both the civil and religious authorities wouldsustain her family in their course. 

Her cousins, knowing her independent spirit, and perhaps fearing anoutcry if they sequestered her too closely, had thought to soften herresistance by placing her in a convent noted for its leniencies; but toFulvia such surroundings were more repugnant than the strictest monasticdiscipline. The corruption of the religious orders was a favourite topicwith her father's friends, and the Venetian nuns were noted throughoutItaly for their frivolous and dissipated lives; but nothing that Fulviahad heard or imagined approached the realities that awaited her. Atfirst the mere sense of imprisonment, of being cut off forever from theworld of free thought and action which had been her native element, overwhelmed every other feeling, and she lay numb in the clutch of fate. But she was too young for this merciful torpor to last, and with thereturning consciousness of her situation came the instinctive effort toamend it. How she longed then to have been buried in some strict order, where she might have spent her days in solitary work and meditation! Howshe loathed the petty gossip of the nuns, their furtive reaching afterforbidden pleasures! The blindest bigotry would have been lessinsufferable than this clandestine commerce with the world, thestrictest sequestration than this open parody of the monastic calling. She sought in vain among her companions for an answering mind. Many, like herself, were in open rebellion against their lot; but for reasonsso different that the feeling was an added estrangement. At last thelonging to escape over-mastered every other sensation. It became a fixedidea, a devouring passion. She did not trust herself to think of whatmust follow, but centred every faculty on the effort of evasion. 

At this point in her story her growing distress had made it hard for Odoto gather more than a general hint of her meaning. It was clear, however, that she had found her sole hope of escape lay in gaining thefriendship of one of the more favoured nuns. Her own position in thecommunity was of the humblest, for she had neither rank nor wealth tocommend her; but her skill on the harpsichord had attracted the noticeof the music-mistress and she had been enrolled in the convent orchestrabefore her novitiate was over. This had brought her into contact with afew of the more favoured sisters, and among them she had recognised inSister Mary of the Crucifix the daughter of the nobleman who had beenher aunt's landlord at Treviso. Fulvia's name was not unknown to thehandsome nun, and the coincidence was enough to draw them together in acommunity where such trivial affinities must replace the ties of nature. Fulvia soon learned that Mary of the Crucifix was the spoiled darling ofthe convent. Her beauty and spirit, as much perhaps as her familyconnections, had given her this predominance; and no scruples interferedwith her use of it. Finding herself, as she declared, on the wrong sideof the grate, she determined to gather in all the pleasures she couldreach through it; and her reach was certainly prodigious. Here Odo hadbeen obliged to fall back on his knowledge of Venetian customs toconjecture the incidents leading up to the scene of the previous night. He divined that Fulvia, maddened by having had to pronounce theirrevocable vows, had resolved to fly at all hazards; that Sister Mary, unconscious of her designs, had proposed to take her on a party ofpleasure, and that the rash girl, blind to every risk but that of delay, had seized on this desperate means of escape. What must have followedhad she not chanced on Odo, she had clearly neither the courage nor theexperience to picture; but she seemed to have had some confused idea ofthrowing herself on the mercy of the foreign nobleman she believed shewas to meet. 

So much Odo had gathered; and her voice, her gesture, the disorder ofher spirit, supplied what her words omitted. Not for a moment, either inlistening to her or in the soberer period of revision, did he questionthe exact truth of her narrative. It was the second time that they hadmet under strange circumstances; yet now as before the sense of hercandour was his ruling thought. He concluded that, whatever plight shefound herself in, she would be its immediate justification; and feltsure he must have reached this conclusion though love had not had astake in the verdict. This perhaps but proved him the more deeply taken;for it is when passion tightens the net that reason flaps her wings mostloudly. 

Day was high when he returned to his lodgings, impatient for a word fromFulvia. None had come; and as the hours passed he yielded to the mostdisheartening fancies. His wretchedness was increased by the thoughtthat he had once inflicted on her such suspense he was now enduring; andhe went so far as to wonder if this were her revenge for Vercelli. Butif the past was intolerable to consider the future was all bafflingfears. His immediate study was how to see her; and this her continuedsilence seemed to refuse him. The extremity of her plight was his bestally; yet here again anxiety suggested that his having been the witnessof her humiliation must insensibly turn her against him. Never perhapsdoes a man show less knowledge of human nature than in speculating onthe conduct of his beloved; and every step in the labyrinth of hisconjectures carried Odo farther from the truth. This rose on him atnightfall, in the shape of a letter slipped in his hand by a lay-sisteras he crossed the square before his lodgings. He stepped to the light ofthe nearest shrine and read the few words in a tumult. "This beingFriday, no visitors are admitted to the convent; but I entreat you tocome to me tomorrow an hour before benediction. " A postcript added: "Itis the hour when visitors are most frequent. "

He saw her meaning in a flash: his best chance of speaking with her wasin a crowd, and his heart bounded at the significance of her admission. Now indeed he felt himself lord of the future. Nothing counted but thathe was to see her. His horizon was narrowed to the bars through whichher hand would greet him; yet never had the world appeared so vast. 

Long before the hour appointed he was at the gate of Santa Chiara. Heasked to speak with Sister Veronica and the portress led him to theparlour. Several nuns were already behind the grate, chatting with agroup of fashionable ladies and their gallants; but Fulvia was not amongthem. In a few moments the portress returned and informed Odo thatSister Veronica was indisposed and unable to leave her cell. His heartsank, and he asked if she had sent no message. The portress answered inthe negative, but added that the abbess begged him to come to herparlour; and at this his hopes took wing again. 

The abbess's parlour was preceded by a handsome antechamber, where Odowas bidden to wait. It was doubtless the Reverend Mother's hour forreceiving company, for through the door beyond he heard laughter andmusic and the sound of lively talk. Presently this door opened and Maryof the Crucifix entered. In her monastic habit she looked coarse andoverblown: the severe lines and sober tints of the dress did not becomeher. Odo felt an insurmountable repugnance at seeing her. He could notconceive why Fulvia had chosen such an intermediary, and for the firsttime a stealing doubt tainted his thoughts of her. 

Sister Mary seemed to read his mind. "You bear me a grudge, " said shegaily; "but I think you will live to own that I do not return it. Comewith me if you wish to speak with Sister Veronica. "

Odo flushed with surprise. "She is not too unwell to receive me?"

Sister Mary raised her eyebrows in astonishment. "To receive her cousin?Her nearest male relative, come from Treviso purposely to visit her? Thesaints forbid!" she cried. "The poor child is indeed dying--but only tosee her cousin!" And with that she seized his hand and hurried him downthe corridor to a door on which she tapped three times. It opened atonce, and catching Odo by the shoulder she pushed him laughingly overthe threshold and cried out as she vanished: "Be careful not to agitatethe sufferer!"

Odo found himself in a neat plain cell; but he had no eyes for hissurroundings. All that he saw was Fulvia, dressed in her nun's habit andseated near the window, through which the afternoon light fell softly onher white coif and the austere folds of her dress. She rose and greetedhim with a smile. 

"You are not ill, then?" he cried, stupidly, and the colour rose to herpale face. 

"No, " she said, "I am not ill, and at first I was reluctant to make useof such a subterfuge; but to feign an indisposition was the only way ofspeaking with you privately, and, alas, in this school one soon becomesa proficient in deceit. " She paused a moment and then added with aneffort: "Even this favour I could not have obtained save through SisterMary of the Crucifix; but she now understands that you are an old friendof my father's, and that my motive for wishing to see you is not whatshe at first supposed. "

This was said with such noble simplicity and so direct a glance, thatOdo, confused by the sense of his own doubts, could only murmur as hebent over her hand: "Fuoco di quest' incendio non v' assale. "

She drew back gently and signed him to a seat. "I trust not, " she said, answering his citation; "but I think the flame through which Beatricewalked must have been less contaminating than this morass in which Iflounder. "

She was silent a moment and he had leisure to steal a closer look ather. It was the first time since their meeting that he had really seenher face; and he was struck by the touch of awe that had come upon herbeauty. Perhaps her recent suffering had spiritualised a countenancealready pure and lofty; for as he looked at her it seemed to him thatshe was transformed into a being beyond earthly contact, and his heartsank with the sense of her remoteness. Presently she began to speak andhis consciousness of the distance between them was increased by thecomposure of her manner. All signs of confusion and distress hadvanished. She faced him with the same innocent freedom as under herfather's roof, and all that had since passed between them seemed to haveslipped from her without a trace. 

She began by thanking him for coming, and then at once reverted to herdesperate situation and to her determination to escape. 

"I am alone and friendless, " she said, "and though the length of ourpast acquaintance" (and here indeed she blushed) "scarce warrants such apresumption, yet I believe that in my father's name I may appeal to you. It may be that with the best will to help me you can discover no way ofdoing so, but at least I shall have the benefit of your advice. I nowsee, " she added, again deeply blushing, but keeping her eyes on his, "the madness of my late attempt, and the depth of the abyss from whichyou rescued me. Death were indeed preferable to such chances; but I donot mean to die while life holds out a hope of liberation. "

As she spoke there flashed on Odo the reason of her remoteness andcomposure. He had come to her as a lover: she received him as a friend. His longing to aid her was inspired by passion: she saw in it only thenatural impulse of benevolence. So mortifying was the discovery that hehardly followed her words. All his thoughts were engaged in reviewingthe past; and he now saw that if, as she said, their acquaintance scarcewarranted her appealing to him as a friend, it still less justified hisaddressing her as a lover. Only once before had he spoken to her oflove, and that under circumstances which almost forbade a return to thesubject, or at least compelled an added prudence in approaching it. Onceagain he found himself the prisoner of his folly, and stood aghast atthe ingenuity of the punishment. To play the part she ascribed to himwas his only portion; and he resolved at least to play it like a man. 

With what composure he might, he assured Fulvia of his desire to serveher, and asked if she had no hope of obtaining her release from the HolySee. She answered: none, since enquiry must reveal that she was thedaughter of a man who had been prosecuted for heresy, and that after hisdeath she had devoted the small sum he had left her to the publicationof his writings. She added that his Holiness, resolved to counteract theeffects of the late Pope's leniency, had greatly enlarged the powers ofthe Inquisition, and had taken special measures to prevent those whoentered the religious life from renouncing their calling. 

"Since I have been here, " she said, "three nuns have tried to obtaintheir release, and one has conclusively proved that she was forced totake the vows by fraud; but their pleas have been rejected, and minewould meet the same fate. Indeed, the only result would be to deprive meof what little liberty I am allowed; for the three nuns I speak of arenow the most closely watched in the convent. "

She went on to explain that, thanks to the connivance of Sister Mary ofthe Crucifix, her actual escape might be effected without muchdifficulty; but that she was now awake to the madness of taking sodesperate a step without knowing whither it would lead her. 

"To be safe, " she said, "I must cross the borders of Switzerland. If Icould reach Geneva I should be beyond the arm of the Holy Office, and atthe University there I should find friends of my father who would surelytake pity on my situation and help me to a living. But the journey islong and difficult, and not to be safely attempted without someassurance of shelter on the way. "

It was on Odo's lips to declare that he would provide her with shelterand escort; but at this moment three warning taps announced the returnof Sister Mary of the Crucifix. 

She entered merrily and at once laid one hand on Fulvia's brow andcaught her wrist in the other. "The patient's pulse has risen, " shedeclared, "and rest and a lowering treatment are essential. I must askthe cavaliere to withdraw. "

Fulvia, with an air of constraint, held out her hand to Odo. 

"I shall see you soon again?" he whispered; and Sister Mary, as thoughshe had guessed his words, cried out, "I think your excellency may counton a recurrence of the seizure two days hence at the same hour!"

3. 5. 

With this Odo was forced to be content; and he passed the interveningtime in devising the means of Fulvia's rescue. He was resolved to let norashness or negligence hinder the attempt, and to prove, by thediscretion of his course, that he was no longer the light fool who hadonce hazarded her safety. He went about his preparations as one that hadno private stake in the venture; but he was therefore the morepunctilious to show himself worthy of her trust and sensible of thecharge it laid upon him. 

At their next meeting he found her in the same open and friendly mood, and she listened gratefully as he set forth his plan. This was that sheshould first write to a doctor of the University in Geneva, who had beenher father's friend, stating her plight and asking if he could help herto a living should she contrive to reach Geneva. Pending the reply, Odowas to plan the stages of the journey in such fashion that she mightcount on concealment in case of pursuit; and she was not to attempt herescape till these details were decided. Fulvia was the more ready toacquiesce in this postponement as she did not wish to involve SisterMary in her adventure, but hoped to escape unassisted during anentertainment which was to take place in the convent on the feast ofSaint Michael, some six weeks later. 

To Odo the delay was still more welcome; for it gave him what he mustneeds regard as his last opportunity of being in the girl's company. Shehad accepted his companionship on the journey with a readiness in whichhe saw only the magnanimity of pardon; but in Geneva they must part, andwhat hope had he of seeing her again? The first smart of vanity allayed, he was glad she chose to treat him as a friend. It was in this characterthat he could best prove his disinterestedness, his resolve to makeamends for the past; and in this character only--as he now felt--wouldit be possible for him to part from her. 

On his second visit he ventured to discharge his mind of its heaviestburden by enquiring what had befallen her and her father after he hadlost trace of them at Vercelli. She told him quite simply that, failingto meet him at the appointed place, they at once guessed that his planhad been winded by the abate who travelled with him; and that after afew hours' delay her father had succeeded in securing a chaise which hadtaken them safely across the border. She went on to speak of thehardships they had suffered after reaching Milan. Even under acomparatively liberal government it was small advantage to be marked bythe Holy Office; and though he received much kindness, and even materialaid, from those of his way of thinking, Vivaldi was unable to obtain theprofessorship he had hoped for. 

From Milan they went to Pavia; but in this University, the most liberalin Italy, the chairs were so sought after that there was no hope of hisreceiving a charge worthy of his talents. Here, however, his spiritbreathed its natural air, and reluctant to lose the privileges of suchintercourse he decided to accept the post of librarian to an eccentricnobleman of the town. If his pay was modest his duties left him leisurefor the work which was his chief concern; for his patron, who had housesin Milan and Brescia, came seldom to Pavia, and Fulvia and her fatherhad the vast palace to themselves. They lodged in a corner adjoining thelibrary, spending their days in studious seclusion, their evenings inconversation with some of the first scholars of Europe: the learnedbotanist Scopoli, Spallanzani, Volta, and Father Fontana, the famousmathematician. In such surroundings Vivaldi might have pursued his taskcontentedly enough, but for the thought of Fulvia's future. This, hisdaughter said, continually preyed on him, driving him to labours beyondhis strength; for he hoped by the publication of his book to make good, at least in part, the loss of the small property which the Sardiniangovernment had confiscated. All her entreaties could not dissuade himfrom over-exertion; and in addition to his regular duties he took onhimself (as she afterward learned) the tedious work of revising proofsand copying manuscripts for the professors. This drudgery, combined withsevere intellectual effort, exceeded his flagging powers; and the bookwas hardly completed when his patron, apprised of its contents, abruptlyremoved him from his post. From that day Vivaldi sank in health; but heended as became a sage, content to have discharged the task for which hehad given up home and substance, and dying with the great Stoic's wordsupon his lips:--

Lex non poena mors. 

Vivaldi's friends in Milan came generously to Fulvia's aid, and shewould gladly have remained among them; but after the loss of her smallinheritance and of her father's manuscript she was without means ofrepaying their kindness, and nothing remained but to turn to her ownkin. 

As Odo sat in the quiet cell, listening to her story, and hearing againthe great names his youth had reverenced, he felt himself an exilereturning to his own, mounting the familiar heights and breathing theair that was his birthright. Looking back from this recovered standpointhe saw how far behind his early hopes had been left. Since his departurefrom Naples there had been nothing to remind him of that vast noiselesslabour of the spirit going on everywhere beneath the social surface:that baffled but undiscouraged endeavour in which he had once soimpatiently claimed his share. Now every word of Fulvia's smote thebones of some dead purpose, till his bosom seemed a very valley ofEzekiel. Her own trials had fanned her love of freedom, and the nearhope of release lent an exaltation to her words. Of bitterness, ofresentment she gave no sign; and he was awed by the same serenity ofspirit which had struck him in the imprisoned doctor. But perhaps thestrongest impression she produced was that of increasing his points ofcontact with life. His other sentimental ties had been a barrier betweenhimself and the outer world; but the feeling which drew him to Fulviahad the effect of levelling the bounds of egoism, of letting into thecircle of his nearest emotions that great tide of human longing andeffort that had always faintly sounded on the shores of self. Perhaps itwas her power of evoking this wider life that gave a sense ofpermanence, of security almost, to the stolen moments of theirintercourse, lulling the lover's impatience of actual conditions withthe sense of something that must survive the accidents of fortune. Onlyin some such way could he explain, in looking back, the completeness ofeach moment spent with her. He was conscious even at the time of asuspension of the emotional laws, a charmed surrender to the limitationsof his fate. When he was away his impatience reasserted itself; but herpresence was like a soothing hand on his spirit, and he knew that hisquiet hours with her would count among those intervals between thecrises of life that flower in memory when the crises themselves havefaded. 

It was natural that in the course of these visits she in turn shouldquestion him; and as his past rearranged itself beneath her scrutiny heseemed once more to trace the thread of purpose on which its fragmentshung. He told her of his connection with the liberals of Pianura, of thesituation at court, and of the reason for his prolonged travels. As hetalked her eyes conveyed the exquisite sense of her completecomprehension. She saw, before he could justify himself, how theuncertainty of his future, and his inability to act, had cast him adriftupon a life of superficial enjoyment; and how his latent dissatisfactionwith this life had inevitably resulted in self-distrust and vacillation. "You wait your hour, " she said of him; and he seized on the phrase as ajustification of his inactivity and, when chance should offer, a spur tofresh endeavour. Her interest in the liberal cause had been intensifiedand exalted by her father's death--his martyrdom, as she described it. Like most women possessed of an abstract idea she had unconsciouslypersonified the idea and made a religion of it; but it was a religion ofcharity and not of vindictiveness. "I should like my father's deathavenged by love and not by hate, " she said; "I would have it bringpeace, not a sword. "

On one point only she remained, if not hostile yet unresponsive. Thiswas when he spoke of de Crucis. Her manner hardened instantly, and heperceived that, though he dwelt on the Jesuit's tolerant view andcultivated tastes, she beheld only the priest and not the man. She hadbeen eager to hear of Crescenti, whom she knew by name as a student ofEuropean repute, and to the praise of whose parochial charities shelistened with outspoken sympathy; but the Jesuits stood for the HolyOffice, and she had suffered too deeply at the hands of the Holy Officeto regard with an open mind any who might be supposed to represent itsprinciples. It was impossible for Odo to make her understand howdistinctly, in de Crucis's case, the man predominated over the order;and conscious of the painfulness of the subject, he gave up the attemptto interest her in his friend. 

Three or four times he was permitted to visit her in her cell: afterthat they met almost daily in the parlour, where, about the hour ofbenediction, they could talk almost as privately under cover of thegeneral chatter. In due time Fulvia received an answer from theCalvinist professor, who assured her of a welcome in Geneva and shelterunder his roof. Odo, meanwhile, had perfected the plan of their journey;but as Michaelmas approached he began to fear Cantapresto's observation. He now bitterly regretted that he had not held to his purpose of sendingthe soprano back to Pianura; but to do so at this point would be tochallenge observation and he resolved instead on despatching him toMonte Alloro with a letter to the old Duke. As the way to Geneva lay inthe opposite direction this would at least give the fugitives a threedays' lead; and they had little cause to fear pursuit from any otherquarter. The convent indeed might raise a hue and cry; but the nuns ofSanta Chiara had lately given the devout so much cause for scandal thatthe abbess would probably be disposed to hush up any fresh delinquency. The time too was well-chosen; for the sisters had prevailed on theReverend Mother to celebrate the saint's day by a masked ball, and thewhole convent was engrossed in the invention of whimsical disguises. Thenuns indeed were not to take part in the ball; but a number of them wereto appear in an allegorical entertainment with which the evening was toopen. The new Papal Nuncio, who was lately arrived in Venice, hadpromised to be present; and as he was known to be a man of pleasurethere was scarce a sister in the convent but had an eye to his conquest. These circumstances gave to Fulvia's plans the shelter of indifference;for in the delightful effort of surpassing the other nuns even Mary ofthe Crucifix lost interest in her friend's affairs. 

Odo, to preserve the secrecy of his designs, had been obliged to keep upa pretence of his former habits, showing himself abroad withCoeur-Volant and Castelrovinato and frequenting the Procuratessa's routsand card-parties. This lady, though lately returned to the Brenta, hadannounced her intention of coming to Venice for the ball at SantaChiara; and Coeur-Volant was mightily preoccupied with theentertainment, at which he purposed his mistress should outshine all hercompanions. 

The evening came at last, and Odo found himself entering the gates ofSanta Chiara with a throng of merry-makers. The convent was noted forits splendid hospitality, and unwonted preparations had been made tohonour the saint. The brightly-illuminated bridge leading to the squareof Santa Chiara was decked with a colonnade of pasteboard and stiffenedlinen cunningly painted, and a classical portico masked the entrancegate. A flourish of trumpets and hautboys, and the firing of miniaturecannon, greeted the arrival of the guests, who were escorted to theparlour, which was hung with tapestries and glowing with lights like aLady Chapel. Here they were received by the abbess, who, on the arrivalof the Nuncio, led the way to the garden, where a stage had beenerected. 

The nuns who were not to take part in the play had been seated directlyunder the stage, divided from the rest of the company by a low screen offoliage. Ranged beneath the footlights, which shone on their bareshoulders and white gowns, and on the gauze veils replacing theirmonastic coifs, they seemed a choir of pagan virgins grouped in theproscenium of an antique theatre. Everything indeed combined to producethe impression of some classic festival: the setting of motionlessfoliage, the mild autumnal sky in which the stars hung near and vivid, and the foreground thronged with a motley company lit by the shiftingbrightness of torches. 

As Odo, in mask and travesty, stood observing the fantastically-dressedaudience, the pasteboard theatre adorned with statuary, and the nunsflitting across the stage, his imagination, strung to the highest pitchby his own impending venture, was thrilled by the contrast between theoutward appearance of the scene and its underlying reality. From wherehe stood he looked directly at the abbess, who was seated with theNuncio and his suite under the tall crucifix in the centre of thegarden. As if to emphasise the irony of the situation, the torch fixedbehind this noble group cast an enlarged shadow of the cross over theabbess's white gown and the splendid robes of her companions, who, though they wore the mask, had not laid aside their clerical dress. ToOdo the juxtaposition had the effect of some supernatural warning, theshadow of the divine wrath projected on its heedless ministers; animpression heightened by the fact that, just opposite the cross, alively figure of Pan, surmounting the pediment of the theatre, seemed tofling defiance at the Galilean intruder. 

The nuns, like the rest of the company, were masked; and it had beenagreed between Odo and Fulvia that the latter should wear a wreath ofmyrtle above her veil. As almost all her companions had chosenbrightly-coloured flowers this dark green chaplet was easilydistinguished among the clustered heads beneath the stage, and Odo hadno doubt of being able to rejoin Fulvia in the moment of dispersal thatshould follow the conclusion of the play. He knew that the sisters wereto precede their guests and be locked behind the grate before the ballbegan; but as they passed through the garden and cloisters the barrierbetween nuns and visitors would probably not be too strictly maintained. As he had foreseen, the company, attracted by the graceful procession, pressed forward regardless of the assistant mistresses' protests, andthe shadowy arcades were full of laughter and whispered snatches of talkas the white flock was driven back to its fold. 

Odo had withdrawn to the darkest angle of the cloister, close to a doorleading to the pharmacy. It was here that Fulvia had told him to wait;and though he had lost sight of her when the audience rose, he stoodconfidently watching for the reappearance of the myrtle-wreath. Presently he saw it close at hand; and just then the line of sistersflowed toward him, driven forward by a group of lively masqueraders, among whom he seemed to recognise Coeur-Volant's voice and figure. Nothing could have been more opportune, for the pressure swept thewearer of the myrtle-wreath almost into his arms; and as the intruderswere dispersed and the nuns laughingly reformed their lines, her handlingered in his and he felt himself drawn toward the door. 

It yielded to her touch and Odo followed her down a dark passageway tothe empty room where rows of old Faenza jars and quaintly-shaped flagonsglimmered in the dusk. Beyond the pharmacy was another door, the key ofwhich hung on the wall with the portress's hood and cloak. Without aword the girl wrapped herself in the cloak and, fitting the key to thelock, softly opened the door. All this was done with a rapidity andassurance for which Odo was unprepared; but, reflecting that Fulvia'swhole future hung on the promptness with which each detail of her planwas executed, he concluded that her natural force of character enabledher to assume an ease she could hardly feel. 

The door opened on the kitchen-garden, and brushing the lavender-hedgeswith her flying skirts she sped on ahead of Odo to the postern which thenuns were accustomed to use for their nocturnal escapades. Only thethickness of an oaken gate stood between Fulvia and the outer world. Toher the opening of the gate meant the first step toward freedom, but toOdo the passing from their enchanted weeks of fellowship to the innerloneliness of his former life. He hung back silent while she drew thebolt. 

A moment later they had crossed the threshold and his gondola wasslipping toward them out of the shadow of the wall. Fulvia sprang onboard and he followed her under the felze. The warm darkness enclosingthem stirred impulses which their daily intercourse had subdued, and inthe sense of her nearness he lost sight of the conditions which hadbrought them together. The feeling seemed to communicate itself; for asthe gondola rounded the angle of the convent-wall and swung out on theopen, she drooped toward him with the turn of the boat and their lipsmet under the loosened masks. 

At the same instant the light of the Virgin's shrine in the corner ofthe convent-wall fell through the window of the felze on the face liftedto Odo's; and he found himself suddenly confronted by the tender eyesand malicious smile of Sister Mary of the Crucifix. 

"By Diana, " she cried as he started back, "I did but claim my pay inadvance; nor do I think that, when she knows all, Sister Veronica willgrudge me my reward!"

He continued to stare at her in speechless bewilderment, and she went onwith a kind of tender impatience: "You simpleton, can you not guess thatyou were watched, and that but for me your Veronica would at this momentbe lying under lock and key in her cell? Instead of which, " shecontinued, speaking more slowly, and leaning back as though to enjoy thefull savour of his suspense, "instead of which she now awaits you in asafe nook of my choosing, where, within half an hour's time, you mayatone to her with interest for the infidelity into which I have betrayedyou. "

"She knows, then?" Odo faltered, not daring to say more in his ignoranceof Sister Mary's share in the secret. 

Sister Mary shook her head with a tantalising laugh. "That you arecoming? Alas, no, poor angel! She fancies that she has been sent fromthe convent to avoid you--as indeed she was, and by the ReverendMother's own order, who, it seems, had wind of the intrigue thismorning. But, the saints be praised, the excellent sister who wasordered to attend her is in my pay and instead of conducting her to herrelatives of San Barnado, who were to keep her locked up over night, has, if I mistake not, taken her to a good woman of my acquaintance--anold servant, in fact--who will guard her as jealously as the familyplate till you and I come to her release. "

As she spoke she put out her head and gave a whispered order to thegondolier; and at the word the boat swung round and headed for the city. 

In the violent reaction which this strange encounter produced, Odo wasfor the moment incapable of taking any clear note of his surroundings. Uncertain if he were not once more the victim of some such mischance asseemed to attend all his efforts to succour Fulvia, he sat in silentapprehension as the gondola shot across the Grand Canal and entered thelabyrinth of water-ways behind San Moise. Sister Mary took his silencephilosophically. 

"You dare not speak to me, for fear of betraying yourself, " she said, "and I scarce wonder at your distrust; for your plans were so well laidthat I had no notion of what was on foot, and must have remained inignorance if Veronica had not been put in Sister Martha's charge. Butyou will both live to thank me, and I hope, " she added, laughing, "toown that you would have done better to take me into your confidence fromthe first. "

As she spoke the gondola touched at the head of a narrow passage whichlost itself in the blackness of the overhanging houses. Sister Marysprang out and drew Odo after her. A few yards down the alley sheentered a plain low-storied house somewhat withdrawn behind itsneighbours. Followed by Odo she groped her way up a dark flight ofstairs and knocked at a door on the upper landing. A vague flutterwithin, indicative of whispers and uncertain movements, was followed bythe slipping of the bolt, and a middle-aged woman looked out. She drewback with an exclamation of welcome, and Sister Mary, seizing Odo by theshoulders, pushed him across the threshold of a small dimly-lit kitchen. 

Fulvia, in her nun's habit, cowered in the darkest corner; but at sightof Odo she sprang up, and ran toward him with a happy cry. 

3. 6. 

An hour later the two were well on their way toward Mestre, where atravelling-chaise awaited them. Odo, having learned that Andreoni wassettled in Padua, had asked him to receive Fulvia in his house till thenext night-fall; and the bookseller, whom he had taken into hisconfidence, was eager to welcome the daughter of the revered Vivaldi. 

The extremes of hope and apprehension had left Fulvia too exhausted formany words, and Odo, after she had confirmed every particular of SisterMary's story, refrained from questioning her farther. Thanks to herfriend's resources she had been able to exchange her nun's dress for theplain gown and travelling-cloak of a young woman of the middle class;and this dress painfully recalled to Odo the day when he had found herstanding beside the broken-down chaise on the road to Vercelli. 

The recollection was not calculated to put him at his ease; and indeedit was only now that he began to feel the peculiar constraint of hisposition. To Andreoni his explanation of Fulvia's flight had seemednatural enough; but on the subsequent stages of their journey she mustpass for his mistress or his wife, and he hardly knew in what spirit shewould take the misapprehensions that must inevitably arise. 

At Mestre their carriage waited, and they drove rapidly toward Paduathrough the waning night. Andreoni, in his concern for Fulvia's safety, had prepared for her reception a little farm-house of his wife's, in avineyard beyond the town; and here at daybreak it was almost a relief toOdo to commit his charge to the Signora Andreoni's care. 

The day was spent indoors, and Andreoni having thought it more prudentto bring no servant from Padua, his wife prepared the meals for theirguests and the bookseller drew a jar of his own wine from the cellar. Fulvia kept to herself during the day; but at dusk she surprised Odo byentering the room with a trayful of plates and glasses, and helpingtheir hostess to set out the supper-table. The few hours of rest hadrestored to her not only the serenity of the convent, but a lightness ofstep and glance that Odo had not seen in her since the early days oftheir friendship. He marvelled to see how the first breath of freedomhad set her blood in motion and fanned her languid eye; but he could notsuppress the accompanying thought that his own presence had failed towork such miracles. 

They had planned to ride that night to a little village in the hillsbeyond Vicenza, where Fulvia's foster-mother, a peasant of theVicentine, lived with her son, who was a vine-dresser; and supper washardly over when they were told that their horses waited. Their kindhosts dared not urge them to linger; and after a hurried farewell theyrode forth into the fresh darkness of the September night. 

The new moon was down and they had to thread their way slowly throughthe stony lanes between the vineyards. At length they gained the opencountry, and growing more accustomed to the darkness put their horses toa trot. The change of pace, and the exhilaration of traversing anunknown country in the hush and mystery of night, combined to free theirspirits, and Odo began to be aware that the barrier between them waslifted. To the charm of their intercourse at Santa Chiara was added thatcloser sympathy produced by the sense of isolation. They were enclosedin their common risk as in some secret meeting-place where noconsciousness of the outer world intruded; and though their talk keptthe safe level of their immediate concerns he felt the change in everyinflection of Fulvia's voice and in the subtler emphasis of hersilences. 

The way was long, and he had feared that she would be taxed beyond herstrength; but the miles seemed to fly beneath their horses' feet, andthey could scarcely believe that the dark hills which rose ahead of themagainst a whitening sky marked the limit of their journey. 

With some difficulty they found their way to the vine-dresser's house, amere hut in a remote fold of the hills. From motives of prudence theyhad not warned the nurse of their coming; but they found the old womanalready at work in her melon-patch and learned from her that her son hadgone down to his day's labour in the valley. She received Fulvia with atender wonder, as at some supernatural presence descending into herlife, too much awed, till the first embraces were over, to risk anyconjecture as to Odo's presence. But with the returning sense offamiliarity--the fancied recovery of the nurseling's features in thegirl's definite outline--came the inevitable reaction of curiosity, andthe fugitives felt themselves coupled in the old woman's meaning smiles. To Odo's surprise Fulvia received these innuendoes with bafflingcomposure, parrying the questions she seemed to answer, and finallytaking refuge in a plea for rest. But the accord of the previous nightwas broken; and when the travellers set out again, starting a littlebefore sunset to avoid the vine-dresser's return, the constraint of theday began to weigh upon them. In Fulvia's case physical wearinessperhaps had a share in the change; but whatever the cause, its effectwas to make this stage of the journey strangely tedious to both. 

Their way lay through the country north of Vicenza, whence they hoped bydawn to gain Peschiera on the lake of Garda, and hire a chaise whichshould take them across the border. For the first hour or two they hadthe new moon to light them; but as it set the sky clouded and drops ofrain began to fall. Fulvia had hitherto shown a gay indifference to thediscomforts of the journey; but she presently began to complain of thecold and to question Odo anxiously as to the length of the way. Thehilliness of the country forced them to travel slowly, and it seemed toOdo that hours had elapsed before they saw lights in the valley belowthem. Their plan had been to avoid the towns on their way, and Fulvia, the night before, had contented herself with a half-hour's rest by theroadside; but a heavy rain was now falling, and she at once assented toOdo's tentative proposal that they should take shelter till the stormwas over. 

They dismounted at an inn on the outskirts of the village. The sleepylandlord stared as he unbarred the door and led them into the kitchen;but he offered no comment beyond remarking that it was a good night tobe under cover. 

Fulvia sank down on the wooden settle near the chimney, where a fire hadbeen hastily kindled. She took no notice of Odo when he removed thedripping cloak from her shoulders, but sat gazing before her in a kindof apathy. 

"I cannot eat, " she said, as Odo pressed her to take her place at thetable. 

The innkeeper turned to him with a confidential nod. "Your lady looksfairly beaten, " he said. "I've a notion that one of my good beds wouldbe more to her taste than the best supper in the land. Shall I have aroom made ready for your excellencies?"

"No, no, " said Fulvia, starting up. "We must set out again as soon as wehave supped. "

She approached the table and hastily emptied the glass of country winethat Odo had poured out for her. 

The innkeeper seemed a simple unsuspicious fellow, but at this he putdown the plate of cheese he was carrying and looked at her curiously. 

"Start out again at this hour of the night?" he exclaimed. "By thesaints, your excellencies must be running a race with the sun! Or do youdoubt my being able to provide you with decent lodgings, that you prefermud and rain to my good sheets and pillows?"

"Indeed, no, " Odo amicably interposed; "but we are hurrying to meet afriend who is to rejoin us tomorrow at Peschiera. "

"Ah--at Peschiera, " said the other, as though the name had struck him. He took a dish of eggs from the fire and set it before Fulvia. "Well, "he went on with a shrug, "it is written that none of my beds shall beslept in tonight. Not two hours since I had a gentleman here that gavethe very same excuse for hurrying forward; though his horses were sospent that I had to provide him with another pair before he couldcontinue his journey. " He laughed and uncorked a second bottle. 

"That reminds me, " he went on, pausing suddenly before Fulvia, "that theother gentleman was travelling to meet a friend too; a lady, he said--ayoung lady. He fancied she might have passed this way and questioned meclosely; but as it happened there had been no petticoat under my rooffor three days. --I wonder, now, if he could have been looking for yourexcellencies?"

Fulvia flushed high at this, but a sign from Odo checked the denial onher lips. 

"Why, " said he, "it is not unlikely, though I had fancied our friendwould come from another direction. What was this gentleman like?"

The landlord hesitated, evidently not so much from any reluctance toimpart what he knew as from the inability to express it. "Well, " saidhe, trying to supplement his words by a vaguely descriptive gesture, "hewas a handsome personable-looking man--smallish built, but with a finemanner, and dressed not unlike your excellency. "

"Ah, " said Odo carelessly, "our friend is an ecclesiastic. --And whichway did this gentleman travel?" he went on, pouring himself anotherglass. 

The landlord assumed an air of country cunning. "There's the fishy partof it, " said he. "He gave orders to go toward Verona; but my boy, whochased the carriage down the road, as lads will, says that at thecross-ways below the old mill the driver took the turn for Peschiera. "

Fulvia at this seemed no longer able to control herself. She came closeto Odo and said in a low urgent tone: "For heaven's sake, let us setforward!"

Odo again signed to her to keep silent, and with an effort she resumedher seat and made a pretence of eating. A moment later he despatched thelandlord to the stable, to see that the horses had been rubbed down; andas soon as the door closed she broke out passionately. 

"It is my fault, " she cried, "it is all my fault for coming here. If Ihad had the courage to keep on this would never have happened!"

"No, " said Odo quietly, "and we should have gone straight to Peschieraand landed in the arms of our pursuer--if this mysterious traveller isin pursuit of us. "

His tone seemed to steady her. "Oh, " she said, and the colour flickeredout of her face. 

"As it happens, " he went on, "nothing could have been more fortunatethan our coming here. "

"I see--I see--; but now we must go on at once, " she persisted. 

He looked at her gravely. "This is your wish?"

She seemed seized with a panic fear. "I cannot stay here!" she repeated. 

"Which way shall we go, then? If we continue to Peschiera, and this manis after us, we are lost. "

"But if he does not find us he may return here--he will surely returnhere!"

"He cannot return before morning. It is close on midnight already. Meanwhile you can take a few hours' rest while I devise means ofreaching the lake by some mule-track across the mountain. "

It cost him an effort to take this tone with her; but he saw that in herhigh-strung mood any other would have been less effective. She roseslowly, keeping her eyes on him with the look of a frightened child. "Iwill do as you wish, " she said. 

"Let the landlord prepare a bed for you, then. I will keep watch downhere and the horses shall be saddled at daylight. "

She stood silent while he went to the door to call the innkeeper; butwhen the order was given, and the door closed again, she disconcertedhim by a sudden sob. 

"What a burden I am!" she cried. "I had no right to accept this of you. "And she turned and fled up the dark stairs. 

The night passed and toward dawn the rain ceased. Odo rose from hisdreary vigil in the kitchen, and called to the innkeeper to carry upbread and wine to Fulvia's room. Then he went out to see that the horseswere fed and watered. He had not dared to question the landlord as tothe roads, lest his doing so should excite suspicion; but he hoped tofind an ostler who would give him the information he needed. 

The stable was empty, however; and he prepared to bait the horseshimself. As he stooped to place his lantern on the floor he caught thegleam of a small polished object at his feet. He picked it up and foundthat it was a silver coat-of-arms, such as are attached to the blindersand saddles of a carriage-harness. His curiosity was aroused, andholding the light closer he recognised the ducal crown of Pianurasurmounting the "Humilitas" of the Valseccas. 

The discovery was so startling that for some moments he stood gazing atthe small object in his hand without being able to steady his confusedideas. Gradually they took shape, and he saw that, if the ornament hadfallen from the harness of the traveller who had just preceded them, itwas not Fulvia but he himself who was being pursued. But who was it whosought him and to what purpose? One fact alone was clear: the traveller, whoever he was, rode in one of the Duke's carriages, and thereforepresumably upon his sovereign's business. 

Odo was still trying to thread a way through these conjectures when ayawning ostler pushed open the stable-door. 

"Your excellency is in a hurry to be gone, " he said, with a surprisedglance. 

Odo handed him the coat-of-arms. "Can you tell me what this is?" heasked carelessly. "I picked it up here a moment ago. "

The other turned it over and stared. "Why, " said he, "that's off theharness of the gentleman that supped here last night--the same that wenton later to Peschiera. "

Odo proceeded to question him about the mule-tracks over Monte Baldo, and having bidden him saddle the horses in half an hour, crossed thecourtyard and re-entered the inn. A grey light was already fallingthrough the windows, and he mounted the stairs and knocked on the doorwhich he thought must be Fulvia's. Her voice bade him enter and he foundher seated fully dressed beside the window. She rose with a smile and hesaw that she had regained her usual self-possession. 

"Do we set out at once?" she asked. 

"There is no great haste, " he answered. "You must eat first, and by thattime the horses will be saddled. "

"As you please, " she returned, with a readiness in which he divined thewish to make amends for her wilfulness the previous night. Her eyes andcheeks glowed with an excitement which counterfeited the effects of anight's rest, and he thought he had never seen her more radiant. Sheapproached the table on which the wine and bread had been placed, anddrew another chair beside her own. 

"Will you not share with me?" she asked, filling a glass for him. 

He took it from her with a smile. "I have good news for you, " he said, holding out the bit of silver which he had brought from the stable. 

She examined it wonderingly. "What does this mean?" she asked, lookingup at him. 

"That it is I who am being followed--and not you. "

She started and the ornament slipped from her hand. 

"You?" she faltered with a quick change of colour. 

"This coat-of-arms, " he explained, "dropped from the harness of thetraveller who left the inn just before our arrival last night. "

"Well--" she said, still without understanding; "and do you know thecoat?"

Odo smiled. "It is mine, " he answered; "and the crown is my cousin's. The traveller must have been a messenger of the Duke's. "

She stood leaning against the seat from which she had risen, one handstill grasping it while the other hung inert. Her lips parted but shedid not speak. Her pallor troubled Odo and he went up to her and tookher hand. 

"Do you not understand, " he said gently, "that there is no farther causefor alarm? I have no reason to think that the Duke's messenger is inpursuit of me; but should he be so, and should he overtake us, he has noauthority over you and no reason for betraying you to your enemies. "

The blood poured back to her face. "Me! My enemies!" she stammered. "Itis not of them I think. " She raised her head and faced him in a glow. 

For a moment he stood stupidly gazing at her; then the mist lifted andthrough it he saw a great light. 

 * * * * *

The landlord's knock warned them that their horses waited, and they rodeout in the grey morning. The world about them still lay in shade, and asthey climbed the wooded defile above the valley Odo was reminded of thedays at Donnaz when he had ridden up the mountain in the same earlylight. Never since then had he felt, as he did now, the boy's easykinship with the unexpected, the sense that no encounter could be toowonderful to fit in with the mere wonder of living. 

To avoid the road to Peschiera they had resolved to cross the MonteBaldo by a mule-track which should bring them out at one of the villageson the eastern shore of Garda; and the search for this path led them upthrough steep rain-scented woods where they had to part the wet boughsas they passed. From time to time they regained the highway and rodeabreast, almost silent at first with the weight of their new nearness, and then breaking into talk that was the mere overflow of what they werethinking. There was in truth more to be felt between them than to besaid; since, as each was aware, the new light that suffused the presentleft the future as obscure as before. But what mattered, when the hourwas theirs? The narrow kingdom of today is better worth ruling over thanthe widest past or future; but not more than once does a man hold itsfugitive sceptre. The past, however, was theirs also: a past sotransformed that he must revisit it with her, joyously confronting hernew self with the image of her that met them at each turn. Then he hadhimself to trace in her memories, his transfigured likeness to lingerover in the Narcissus-mirror of her faith in him. This interchange ofrecollections served them as well as any outspoken expression offeeling, and the most commonplace allusion was charged with happymeanings. 

Arabia Petraea had been an Eden to such travellers; how much more thehappy slopes they were now descending! All the afternoon their pathwound down the western incline of Monte Baldo, first under huge olives, then through thickets of laurel and acacia, to emerge on a lower levelof lemon and orange groves, with the blue lake showing through a diaperof golden-fruited boughs. Fulvia, to whom this clear-cut southernfoliage was as new as the pure intensity of light that bathed it, seemedto herself to be moving through the landscape of a dream. It was asthough nature had been remodelled, transformed almost, under the touchof their love: as though they had found their way to the Hesperianglades in which poets and painters placed the legendary lovers ofantiquity. 

Such feelings were intensified by the strangeness of the situation. InItaly the young girls of the middle class, though seemingly allowed agreater freedom of intercourse than the daughters of noblemen, were inreality as strictly guarded. Though, like Fulvia, they might conversewith the elderly merchants or scholars frequenting the family table, they were never alone in the company of men, and the high standard ofconduct prevailing in the bourgeoisie forbade all thought of clandestineintercourse. This was especially true of the families of men of letters, where the liberal education of the young girls, and their habit ofassociating as equals with men of serious and cultivated minds, gavethem a self-possession disconcerting to the young blood accustomed toconquer with a glance. These girls as a rule, were married early to menof their own standing, and though the cicisbeo was not unknown aftermarriage he was not an authorised member of the household. Fulvia, indeed, belonged to the class most inaccessible to men of Odo's rank:the only class in Italy in which the wife's fidelity was as muchesteemed as the innocence of the girl. Such principles had long beenridiculed by persons of quality and satirised by poets and playwrights. From Aristophanes to Beaumarchais the cheated husband and the outwittedguardian had been the figures on which the dramatist relied for hiscomic effects. Even the miser tricked out of his savings was a shadeless ridiculous, less grotesquely deserving of his fate, than thehusband defrauded of his wife's affection. The plausible adulteress andthe adroit seducer had a recognised claim on the sympathy of the public. But the inevitable reaction was at hand; and the new teachers to whomOdo's contemporaries were beginning to listen had thrown a strangelypoetic light over the dull figures of the domestic virtues. Faithfulnessto the family sanctities, reverence for the marriage tie, courage tosacrifice the loftiest passion to the most plodding duty: these werequalities to touch the fancy of a generation sated with derision. Iflove as a sentiment was the discovery of the medieval poets, love as amoral emotion might be called that of the eighteenth-centuryphilosophers, who, for all their celebration of free unions and fatalpassions, were really on the side of the angels, were fighting thebattle of the spiritual against the sensual, of conscience againstappetite. 

The imperceptible action of these new influences formed the real barrierbetween Odo and Fulvia. The girl stood for the embodiment of thepurifying emotions that were to renew the world. Her candour, herunapproachableness, her simple trust in him, were a part of the magiclight which the new idealism had shed over the old social structure. Hiswas, in short, a love large enough to include other emotions: a wideningrather than a contraction of the emotional range. Youth and propinquityhave before now broken down stronger defences; but Fulvia's situationwas an unspoken appeal to her lover's forbearance. The sense that hersafety depended on him kept his sentimental impulses in check and madethe happiness of the moment seem, in its exquisite unreality, a meredreamlike interlude between the facts of life. 

Toward sunset they rested in an olive-orchard, tethering their horses tothe low boughs. Overhead, through the thin foliage of tarnished silver, the sky, as the moon suffused it, melted from steel blue to a clearersilver. A peasant-woman whose hut stood close by brought them a goat'scheese on a vine-leaf and a jug of spring-water; and as they supped, alittle goat-herd, driving his flock down the hill, paused to watch themwith furtive woodland eyes. 

Odo, questioning him, learned that at the village on the shore belowthey could obtain a boat to carry them across the lake. Fulvia, for lackof a passport, dared not set foot on Austrian soil; but the Swissauthorities were less exacting and Odo had hopes of crossing the borderwithout difficulty. They set out again presently, descending through thegrey dusk of the olives till the path became too steep for riding; thenOdo lifted Fulvia from the saddle and led the two horses after her. Hereand there, between the trees, they caught a momentary glimpse of lightson the shore and the pale gleam of the lake enclosed in black foliage. From the village below came snatches of song and the shrill wail of apipe; and as the night deepened they saw, far out on the water, the wildflare of the fish-spearers' torches, like comets in an inverted sky. 

With nightfall the spirits of both had sunk. Fulvia walked ahead insilence and Odo read a mute apprehension in her drooping outline. Everystep brought them nearer to the point they both feared to face, andthough each knew what lay in the other's thoughts neither dared breakthe silence. Odo's mind turned anxiously to the incidents of themorning, to the finding of the ducal coat-of-arms, and to all thepossibilities it suggested. What errand save one could have carried anenvoy from Pianura to that remote hamlet among the hills? He couldscarcely doubt that it was in pursuit of himself that the ducalmessenger travelled; but with what object was the journey undertaken?Was he to be recalled in obedience to some new whim of the Duke's? Orhad some unforeseen change--he dared not let his thoughts defineit--suddenly made his presence needful in Pianura? It was more probablethat the possibility of his flight with Fulvia had been suggested to theDuke by the ecclesiastical authorities, and that the same hand which hadparted them before was again secretly at work. In any case, it was Odo'sfirst business to see his companion safely across the border; and inthat endeavour he had now little fear of being thwarted. If the Duke'smessenger awaited them at Peschiera he waited in vain; and though theirflight across the lake might be known before dawn it would then be noeasy matter to overtake them. 

In an hour's time, as Odo had hoped, they were putting off from theshore in a blunt-nosed fishing-boat which was the lightest craft thevillage could provide. The lake was stark calm, and the two boatmen, silhouetted against the moonlight, drove the boat forward with evenvigorous strokes. Fulvia, shivering in the autumnal chill, had drawn herhood close about her and sat silent, her face in shade. Measured bytheir secret apprehensions the boat's progress seemed at firstindescribably slow; but gradually the sounds from the shore grewfainter, and the fugitives felt themselves alone in a world enclosed bythe moonlit circle of the waters. 

As they advanced this sense of isolation and security grew deeper andmore impressive. The motionless surface of the lake was enclosed in awall of mountains which the moonlight seemed to vein with marble. A skyin which the stars were dissolved in white radiance curved high abovetheir heads; and not a sail flecked the lake or a cloud the sky. Theboat seemed suspended alone in some ethereal medium. 

Presently one of the boatmen spoke to the other and glanced toward thenorth. Then the second silently shipped his oar and hoisted the sail. Hardly had he made it fast when a fresh of wind came down the lake andthey began to stretch across the bay with spreading canvas. The wind wascontrary, but Odo welcomed it, for he saw at once that it would bequicker work to tack to the other shore than to depend on the oars. Thescene underwent a sudden change. The silver mirror over which they hadappeared to glide was shivered into sparkling fragments, and in theenveloping rush and murmur of the night the boat woke to a creakingstraining activity. 

The man at the rudder suddenly pointed to a huddle of lights to thesouth. "Peschiera. "

Odo laughed. "We shall soon show it our heels, " said he. 

The other boatman shrugged his shoulders. "Even an enemy's roof mayserve to keep out the storm, " he observed philosophically. 

"The storm? What storm?"

The man pointed to the north. Against the sky hung a little black cloud, the merest flaw in the perfect curve of the night. 

"The lake is shrewish at this season, " the boatman continued. "Did yourexcellencies burn a candle before starting?"

Odo sat silent, his eyes fixed on the cloud. It was growing visibly now. With every moment its outline seemed to shift and spread, till its blackmenace dilated to the zenith. The bright water still broke about them indiamond spray; but as the shadow travelled the lake beneath it turned tolead. Then the storm dropped on them. It fell suddenly out ofmid-heaven. Sky and water grew black and a long shudder ran through theboat. For a moment she hung back, staggering under a white fury ofblows; then the gale seemed to lift and swing her about and she shotforward through a long tunnel of glistening blackness, bows on forPeschiera. 

"The enemy's roof!" thought Odo. He reached for Fulvia's hand and foundit in the darkness. The rain was driving against them now and he drewher close and wrapped his cloak about her. She lay still, without atremor, as though in that shelter no fears could reach her. The nightroared about them and the waters seemed to divide beneath their keel. Through the tumult Odo shouted to the boatmen to try to make someharbour north of Peschiera. They shouted back that they must go wherethe wind willed and bless the saints if they made any harbour at all;and Odo saw that Peschiera was their destiny. 

It was past midnight when they set foot on shore. The rain still fell intorrents and they could hardly grope their way up the steps of thelanding-stage. Odo's first concern was to avoid the inn; but theboatmen, exhausted by their efforts and impatient to be under shelter, could not be bribed to seek out at that hour another lodging for thetravellers. Odo dared not expose Fulvia longer to the storm, andreluctantly they turned toward the inn, trusting that at that hour theircoming would attract little notice. 

A travelling-carriage stood in the courtyard, and somewhat to Odo'ssurprise the landlord was still afoot. He led them into the publicparlour, which was alight, with a good fire on the hearth. A gentlemanin travelling-dress sat near this fire, his back to the door, reading bya shaded candle. He rose as the travellers entered, and Odo recognisedthe abate de Crucis. 

The latter advanced with a smile in which pleasure was more visible thansurprise. He bowed slightly to Fulvia, who had shrunk back into theshadow of the doorway; then he turned to Odo and said: "Cavaliere, Ihave travelled six days to overtake you. The Duke of Pianura is dyingand has named you regent. "

3. 7. 

Odo heard a slight movement behind him. He turned and saw that Fulviahad vanished. He understood her wish for concealment, but its futilitywas written in the glance with which de Crucis followed her flight. 

The abate continued to speak in urgent tones. "I implore you, " he said, "to lose no time in accompanying me to Pianura. The situation there iscritical and before now his Highness's death may have placed the reinsin your hands. " He glanced at his watch. "If your excellency is not tootired to set out at once, my horses can be harnessed within the halfhour. "

Odo's heart sank. To have let his thoughts dwell on such a possibilityseemed to have done little to prepare him for its realisation. He hardlyunderstood what de Crucis was saying: he knew only that an hour beforehe had fancied himself master of his fate and that now he was again inbonds. His first clear thought was that nothing should part him fromFulvia. 

De Crucis seemed to read the thought. 

"Cavaliere, " he said, "at a moment when time is so valuable you willpardon my directness. You are accompanying to Switzerland a lady who hasplaced herself in your charge--"

Odo made no reply, and the other went on in the same firm but courteoustone: "Foreseeing that it would be difficult for you to leave her soabruptly I provided myself, in Venice, with a passport which will takeher safely across the border. " He drew a paper from his coat. "This, "said he, handing it to Odo, "is the Papal Nuncio's authorisation to theSignorina Fulvia Vivaldi, known in religion as Sister Veronica, toabsent herself from Italy for an indefinite period. With this passportand a good escort your companion will have no difficulty in joining herfriends. "

Excess of astonishment kept Odo silent for a moment; and in that momenthe had as it were a fugitive glimpse into the workings of the greatpower which still strove for predominance in Italy. A safe-conduct fromthe Papal Nuncio to Fulvia Vivaldi was equivalent to her release fromher vows; and this in turn implied that, for the moment, religiousdiscipline had been frankly sacrificed to the pressure of politicalnecessities. How the invisible hands made and unmade the destinies ofthose who came in their way! How boldly the Church swept aside her owndefences when they obstructed her course! He was conscious, even at themoment, of all that men like de Crucis had to say in defence of thishigher expediency, this avowed discrimination between the factors ineach fresh combination of circumstances. He had himself felt the complexwonder of thoughtful minds before the Church's perpetual miracle ofchange disguised in immutability; but now he saw only the meaner side ofthe game, its elements of cruelty and falseness; and he felt himself nomore than a frail bark on the dark and tossing seas of ecclesiasticalintrigue. For a moment his heart shuddered back from its fate. 

"No passport, no safe-conduct, " he said at length, "can release me frommy duty to the lady who has placed herself in my care. I shall not leaveher till she has joined her friends. "

De Crucis bowed. "This is the answer I expected, " he said, not withoutsadness. 

Odo glanced at him in surprise. The two men, hitherto, had addressedeach other as strangers; but now something in the abate's tone recalledto Odo the familiarity of their former intercourse, their deep communityof thought, the significance of the days they had spent together in themonastery of Monte Cassino. The association of ideas brought before himthe profound sense of responsibility with which, at that time, he hadlooked forward to such an hour as this. 

The abate was watching him gravely. 

"Cavaliere, " he said, "every instant counts, all you had once hoped todo for Pianura is now yours to accomplish. But in your absence yourenemies are not idle. His Highness may revoke your appointment at anyhour. Of late I have had his ear, but I have now been near a weekabsent, and you know the Duke is not long constant to onepurpose. --Cavaliere, " he exclaimed, "I appeal to you not in the name ofthe God whom you have come to doubt, but in that of your fellow-men, whom you have wished to serve. "

Odo looked at him, not without a confused sense of the irony of such anappeal on such lips, yet with the distinct consciousness that it wasuttered in all sincerity, and that, whatever their superficial diversityof view, he and de Crucis were at one on those deeper questions thatgave the moment its real significance. 

"It is impossible, " he repeated, "that I should go with you. "

De Crucis was again silent, and Odo was aware of the renewed intentnessof his scrutiny. "If the lady--" broke from him once; but he checkedhimself and took a turn in the room. 

Meanwhile a resolve was slowly forming itself in Odo. He would not befalse to the call which, since his boyhood, had so often made itselfheard before the voice of pleasure and self-interest; but he would atleast reserve the right to obey it in his own fashion and underconditions which left his private inclination free. 

"There may be more than one way of serving one's fellows, " he saidquietly. "Go back without me, abate. Tell my cousin that I resign myrights to the succession. I shall live my own life elsewhere, notunworthily, I hope, but as a private person. "

De Crucis had turned pale. For a moment his habitual self-command seemedabout to fail him; and Odo could not but see that a sincere personalregret was mingled with the political agent's consciousness of failure. 

He himself was chiefly aware of a sense of relief, of self-recovery, asthough he had at last solved a baffling enigma and found himself oncemore at one with his fate. 

Suddenly he heard a step behind him. Fulvia had re-entered the room. Shehad put off her drenched cloak, but the hair lay in damp strands on herforehead, deepening her pallor and the lines of weariness under hereyes. She moved across the room, carrying her head high and advancingtranquilly to Odo's side. Even in that moment of confused emotions hewas struck by the nobility of her gait and gesture. 

She turned to de Crucis, and Odo had the immediate intuition that shehad recognised him. 

"Will you let me speak a word privately to the cavaliere Valsecca?" shesaid. 

The other bowed silently and turned away. The door closed on him, andOdo and Fulvia remained alone. For a moment neither spoke; then shesaid: "That was the abate de Crucis?"

He assented. 

She looked at him sadly. "You still believe him to be your friend?"

"Yes, " he answered frankly, "I still believe him to be my friend, and, spite of his cloth, the friend of justice and humanity. But he is heresimply as the Duke's agent. He has been for some time the governor ofPrince Ferrante. "

"I knew, " she murmured, "I knew--"

He went up to her and caught her hands. "Why do we waste our time uponhim?" he exclaimed impatiently. "Nothing matters but that I am free atlast. "

She drew back, gently releasing herself. "Free--?"

"My choice is made. I have resigned my right to the succession. I shallnot return to Pianura. "

She continued to stare at him, leaning against the chair from which deCrucis had risen. 

"Your choice is made! Your choice is made!" she repeated. "And you havechosen--"

"You, " he said simply. "Will you go to France with me, Fulvia? Will yoube my wife and work with me at a distance for the cause that, in Italy, we may not serve together? I have never abandoned the aims your fathertaught me to strive for; they are dearer, more sacred to me than ever;but I cannot strive for them alone. I must feel your hand in mine, Imust know that your heart beats with mine, I must hear the voice ofliberty speak to me in your voice--" He broke off suddenly and went upto her. "All this is nothing, " he said. "I love you. I cannot give youup. That is all. "

For a moment, as he spoke, her face shone with an extraordinary light. She looked at him intently, as one who seemed to gaze beyond and throughhim, at some mystic vision that his words evoked. Then the brightnessfaded. 

"The picture you draw is a beautiful one, " she said, speaking slowly, insweet deliberate tones, "but it is not for me to look on. What you saidlast is not true. If you love me it is because we have thought the samethoughts, dreamed the same dream, heard the same voice--in each other'svoices, perhaps, as you say, but none the less a real voice, apart fromus and above us, and one which would speak to us as loudly if we wereapart--one which both of us must follow to the end. "

He gazed at her eagerly as she spoke; and while he gazed there came tohim, perversely enough, a vision of the life he was renouncing, not asit concerned the public welfare but in its merely personal aspect: avision of the power, the luxury, the sumptuous background of traditionalstate and prerogative in which his artistic and intellectual tastes, aswell as his easy impulses of benevolence, would find unchecked andimmediate gratification. It was the first time that he had been aware ofsuch lurking influences under his most generous aspirations; but even asFulvia ceased to speak the vision faded, leaving only an intenserlonging to bend her will to his. 

"You are right, " he rejoined; "we must follow that voice to the end; butwhy not together? Your father himself often questioned whether thepatriot could not serve his people better at a distance than in theirmidst. In France, where the new ideas are not only tolerated but put inpractice, we shall be able to study their effects and to learn how theymay best be applied to the relief of our own unhappy people; and as aprivate person, independent of party and patronage, could I not do morethan as the nominal head of a narrow priest-ridden government, whereevery act and word would be used by my enemies to injure me and thecause I represent?"

The vigour and rapidity of the attack, and the promptness with which heconverted her argument to his own use, were not without visible effect. Odo saw his words reflected in the wavering glow of Fulvia's cheek; butalmost at once she regained control of her pulses and faced him withthat serenity which seemed to come to her at such moments. 

"What you say might be true, " she answered, "were your opportunitiesindeed restricted to the regency. But the little prince's life is knownto hang on a thread: at any moment you may be Duke. And you will notdeny that as Duke of Pianura you can serve your people better than as anobscure pamphleteer in Paris. "

Odo made an impatient gesture. "Are you so sure?" he said. "Even as DukeI must be the puppet of powers greater than myself--of Austria, of Rome, nay, of the wealthy nobles who will always league themselves with theirsovereign's enemies rather than suffer a hand upon their privileges. Andeven if I were fortunate enough to outwit my masters and rule indeed, over what a toy kingdom should I reign! How small a number would bebenefited! How little the cause would be helped by my example! As anobscure pamphleteer I might reach the hearts of thousands and speak togreat kings on their thrones; as Duke of Pianura, fighting single-handedto reform the laws of my little state, I should rank at best with theother petty sovereigns who are amusing themselves all over Italy withagricultural experiments and improved methods of cheese-making. "

Again the brightness shone in Fulvia's face. "How you love me!" she saidas he paused; and went on, restraining him with a gesture of thegentlest dignity: "For it is love that speaks thus in you and notreason; and you know as I do that the duty to which a man is born comesbefore any of his own choosing. You are called to serve liberty on athrone, I in some obscure corner of the private life. We can no moreexchange our duties than our stations; but if our lives divide, ourpurpose remains one, and as pious persons recall each other in themystery of the Sacrament, so we shall meet in spirit in the new religionwe profess. "

Her voice gained strength and measure as she spoke, and Odo felt thatall that passion could urge must spend itself in vain against such highsecurity of spirit. 

"Go, cavaliere, " she continued, "I implore you to lose no time inreaching Pianura. Occasion is short-lived, and an hour's lingering maycost you the regency, and with it the chance of gaining a hold on yourpeople. I will not expatiate, as some might, on the power and dignitiesthat await you. You are no adventurer plotting to steal a throne, but asoldier pledged to his post. " She moved close to him and suddenly caughthis hand and raised it to her lips. "Your excellency, " said she, "hasdeigned to look for a moment on a poor girl that crossed your path. Nowyour eyes must be on your people, who will yet have cause to love andbless you as she does. "

She shone on him with a weeping brightness that dissolved his very soul. 

"Ah, " he cried, "you have indeed learned your lesson well! I admire withwhat stoic calmness you pronounce my doom, with what readiness youdispose of my future!"

"It is not mine to dispose of, " she caught him up, "nor yours; butbelongs, as much as any slave's to his master, to the people you arecalled to rule. Think for how many generations their unheededsufferings, their unrewarded toil, have paid for the pomp and pleasureof your house! That is the debt you are called on to acquit, the wrongyou are pledged to set right. "

Odo was silent. She had found the unanswerable word. Yes, he was calledon to acquit the accumulated debt of that long unrighteous rule: it washe who must pay, if need be with the last drop of his blood, for thesavage victories of Bracciaforte, the rapacity of Guidobaldo, themagnificence of Ascanio, the religious terrors and secret vices of thepoor Duke now nearing his end. All these passions had preyed on thepeople, on the tillers and weavers and vine-dressers, obscure servantsof a wasteful greatness: theirs had been the blood that renewed theexhausted veins of their rulers, through generation after generation ofdumb labour and privation. And the noblest passions, as well as thebasest, had been nourished at the same cost. Every flower in the ducalgardens, every picture on the palace walls, every honour in the ancientannals of the house, had been planted, paid for, fought for by thepeople. With mute inconscient irony the two powers had faced each otherfor generations: the subjects never guessing that their sovereigns werepuppets of their own making, the Dukes that all their pomp andcircumstance were but a borrowed motley. Now the evil wrought inignorance remained to be undone in the light of the world's newknowledge: the discovery of that universal brotherhood which Christ hadlong ago proclaimed, and which, after so many centuries, those whodenied Christ were the first to put in practice. Hour by hour, day byday, at the cost of every personal inclination, of all that endears lifeand ennobles failure, Odo must set himself to redeem the credit of hishouse. He saw his way straight before him; but in that hour of insighthis heart's instinct of self-preservation made one last effort againstfate. 

He turned to Fulvia. 

"You are right, " he said; "I have no choice. You have shown me the way;but must I travel it alone? You ask me to give up at a stroke all thatmakes life desirable: to set forth, without a backward glance, on thevery road that leads me farthest from you! Yesterday I might haveobeyed; but how can I turn today from this near view of my happiness?"

He paused a moment and she seemed about to answer; but he hurried onwithout giving her time. "Fulvia, if you ask this sacrifice of me, isthere none you will make in return? If you bid me go forth and work formy people, will you not come with me and work for them too?" Hestretched out his hands, in a gesture that seemed to sum up his infiniteneed of her, and for a moment they faced each other, silenced by thenearness of great issues. 

She knew well enough what he offered. According to the code of the daythere was no dishonour in the offer and it did not occur to her toresent it. But she looked at him sadly and he read her refusal in thelook. 

"The Regent's mistress?" she said slowly. "The key to the treasury, theback-door to preferment, the secret trafficker in titles andappointments? That is what I should stand for--and it is not to suchservices that you must even appear to owe your power. I will not saythat I have my own work to do; for the dearest service I could performwould be to help you in yours. But to do this I must stand aside. To benear you I must go from you. To love you I must give you up. "

She looked him full in the eyes as she spoke; then she went up to himand kissed him. It was the first kiss she had given him since she hadthrown herself in his arms in her father's garden; but now he felt herwhole being on her lips. 

He would have held her fast, forgetting everything in the sweetness ofher surrender; but she drew back quickly and, before he could guess herintention, throw open the door of the room to which de Crucis hadwithdrawn. 

"Signor abate!" she said. 

The Jesuit came forward. Odo was dimly aware that, for an instant, thetwo measured each other; then Fulvia said quietly:

"His excellency goes with you to Pianura. "

What more she said, or what de Crucis answered, he could never afterwardrecall. He had a confused sense of having cried out a last unavailingprotest, faintly, inarticulately, like a man struggling to make himselfheard in a dream; then the room grew dark about him, and in its stead hesaw the old chapel at Donnaz, with its dimly-gleaming shrine, and heardthe voice of the chaplain, harsh and yet strangely shaken:--"My chiefprayer for you is that, should you be raised to this eminence, it may beat a moment when such advancement seems to thrust you in the dust. "

Odo lifted his head and saw de Crucis standing alone before him. 

"I am ready, " he said. 

BOOK IV. 

THE REWARD. 

Where are the portraits of those who have perished in spite of theirvows?

4. 1. 

One bright March day in the year 1783 the bells of Pianura began to ringat sunrise, and with their first peal the townsfolk were abroad. 

The city was already dressed for a festival. A canopy of crimson velvet, surmounted by the ducal crown and by the "Humilitas" of the Valseccas, concealed the columns of the Cathedral porch and fell in royal foldsabout the featureless porphyry lions who had seen so many successiverulers ascend the steps between their outstretched paws. The frieze oframping and running animals around the ancient baptistery was concealedby heavy green garlands alternating with religious banners; and everychurch and chapel had draped its doorway with crimson and placed abovethe image of its patron saint the ducal crown of Pianura. 

No less sumptuous was the adornment of the private dwellings. The greatfamilies--the Trescorri, the Belverdi, the Pievepelaghi--had outdoneeach other in the display of golden-threaded tapestries and Genoesevelvets emblazoned with armorial bearings; and even the sombre facade ofthe Boscofolto palace showed a rich drapery surmounted by thequarterings of the new Marchioness. 

But it was not only the palace-fronts that had put on a holiday dress. The contagion had spread to the poorer quarters, and in many a narrowstreet and crooked lane, where surely no part of the coming pageantmight be expected to pass, the crazy balconies and unglazed windows weredecked out with scraps of finery: a yard or two of velvet filched fromthe state hangings of some noble house, a torn and discoloured churchbanner, even a cast-off sacque of brocade or a peasant's holidaykerchief, skilfully draped about the rusty iron and held in place bypots of clove-pink and sweet basil. The half-ruined palace which hadonce housed Gamba and Momola showed a few shreds of colour on its sullenfront, and the abate Crescenti's modest house, wedged in a corner of thecity walls, was dressed like the altar of a Lady Chapel; while even thetanners' quarter by the river displayed its festoons of coloured paperand tinsel, ingeniously twisted into the semblance of a crown. 

For the new Duke, who was about to enter his capital in state, wasextraordinarily popular with all classes. His popularity, as yet, wasmainly due to a general detestation of the rule he had replaced; butsuch a sentiment gives to a new sovereign an impetus which, if he knowshow to use it, will carry him a long way toward success; and among thosein the Duke's confidence it was rumoured that he was qualified not onlyto profit by the expectations he had raised but to fulfil them. The lastmonths of the late Duke's life had plunged the duchy into such politicaland financial disorder that all parties were agreed in welcoming achange. Even those that had most to lose by the accession of the newsovereign, or most to fear from the policy he was known to favour, preferred the possibility of new evils to a continuance of presentconditions. The expertest angler in troubled waters may find waters tootroubled for his sport; and under a government where power is passedfrom hand to hand like the handkerchief in a children's game, the mostadroit time-server may find himself grasping the empty air. 

It would indeed have been difficult to say who had ruled during the yearpreceding the Duke's death. Prime ministers had succeeded each otherlike the clowns in a harlequinade. Just as the Church seemed to havegained the upper hand some mysterious revulsion of feeling would flingthe Duke toward Trescorre and the liberals; and when these hadattempted, by some trifling concession to popular feeling, to restorethe credit of the government, their sovereign, seized by religiousscruples, would hastily recall the clerical party. So the administrationstaggered on, reeling from one policy to another, clutching now at thissupport and now at that, while Austria and the Holy See hung on itssteps, awaiting the inevitable fall. 

A cruel winter and a fresh outbreak of the silkworm disease hadaggravated the misery of the people, while the mounting extravagance ofthe Duchess had put a last strain on the exhausted treasury. Theconsequent increase of the salt-tax roused such popular fury that FatherIgnazio, who was responsible for the measure, was dismissed by thepanic-stricken Duke, and Trescorre, as usual, called in to repair hisrival's mistake. But it would have taken a greater statesman thanTrescorre to reach the root of such evils; and the new ministersucceeded neither in pacifying the people nor in reassuring hissovereign. 

Meanwhile the Duke was sinking under the mysterious disease which hadhung upon him since his birth. It was hinted that his last hours weredarkened by hallucinations, and the pious pictured him as haunted byprofligate visions, while the free-thinkers maintained that he was thedupe of priestly jugglery. Toward the end there was the inevitablerumour of acqua tofana, and the populace cried out that the Jesuits wereat work again. It seems more probable, however, that his Highness, whohad assisted at the annual festival of the Madonna del Monte, and hadmingled on foot with the swarm of devotees thronging thither from allparts, had contracted a pestilent disorder from one of the pilgrims. Certain it is that death came in a dreadful form. The Duchess, alarmedfor the health of Prince Ferrante, fled with him to the dower-house bythe Piana; and the strange nature of his Highness's distemper causedmany to follow her example. Even the Duke's servants, and the quacksthat lived on his bounty, were said to have abandoned the death-chamber;and an English traveller passing through Pianura boasted that, by thepayment of a small fee to the palace porter, he had obtained leave toenter his Highness's closet and peer through the doorway at the dyingman. However this may be, it would appear that the Duke's confessor--amonk of the Barnabite order--was not to be found when his Highnesscalled for him; and the servant sent forth in haste to fetch a priestreturned, strangely enough, with the abate Crescenti, whose suspectedorthodoxy had so long made him the object of the Duke's detestation. Heit was who alone witnessed the end of that tormented life, and knew uponwhat hopes or fears it closed. 

Meanwhile it appeared that the Duchess's precautions were not unfounded;for Prince Ferrante presently sickened of the same malady which had cutoff his father, and when the Regent, travelling post-haste, arrived inPianura, he had barely time to pass from the Duke's obsequies to thedeath-bed of the heir. 

Etiquette required that a year of mourning should elapse between theaccession of the new sovereign and his state entry into his capital; sothat if Duke Odo's character and intentions were still matter ofconjecture to his subjects, his appearance was already familiar to them. His youth, his good looks, his open mien, his known affability ofmanner, were so many arguments in his favour with an impressionable andimpulsive people; and it was perhaps natural that he should interpret asa tribute to his principles the sympathy which his person aroused. 

It is certain that he fancied himself, at that time, as well-acquaintedwith his subjects as they believed themselves to be with him; and theunderstanding supposed to exist was productive of equal satisfaction toboth sides. The new Duke had thrown himself with extraordinary zeal intothe task of loving and understanding his people. It had been his refugefrom a hundred doubts and uncertainties, the one clearly-defined objectin an obscure and troubled fate. And their response had, almostimmediately, turned his task into a pleasure. It was so easy to rule ifone's subjects loved one! And so easy to be loved if only one lovedenough in return! If he did not, like the Pope, describe himself to hispeople as the servant of the servants of God, he at least longed to makethem feel that this new gospel of service was the base on which allsovereignty must henceforth repose. 

It was not that his first year of power had been without moments ofdisillusionment. He had had more than one embittering experience ofintrigue and perfidy, more than one glimpse of the pitfalls besettinghis course; but his confidence in his own powers and his faith in hispeople remained unshaken, and with two such beliefs to sustain him itseemed as though no difficulties would prove insurmountable. 

Such at least was the mood in which, on the morning of his entry intoPianura, he prepared to face his subjects. Strangely enough, the stateentry began at Ponte di Po, the very spot where, on a stormy midnightsome seven years earlier, the new Duke had landed, a fugitive from hisfuture realm. Here, according to an ancient custom, the sovereignawaited the arrival of his ministers and court; and then, taking seat inhis state barge, proceeded by water to Pianura, followed by an escort ofgalleys. 

A great tent hung with tapestries had been set up on the river-bank; andhere Odo awaited the approach of the barge. As it touched at thelanding-stage he stepped out, and his prime minister, Count Trescorre, advanced toward him, accompanied by the dignitaries of the court. Trescorre had aged in the intervening years. His delicate features hadwithered like a woman's, and the fine irony of his smile had taken anedge of cruelty. His face suggested a worn engraving, the lines of whichhave been deepened by a too-incisive instrument. 

The functionaries attending him were, with few exceptions, the same whohad figured in a like capacity at the late sovereign's court. With thepassing of the years they had grown heavier or thinner, more ponderousor stiffer in their movements, and as they advanced, in their splendidbut unwieldy court dress, they seemed to Odo like superannuatedmarionettes whose springs and wires have rusted from disuse. 

The barge was a magnificent gilded Bucentaur, presented to the lateDuke's father by the Doge of Venice, and carved by his Serenity's mostfamous sculptors in wood. Tritons and sea-goddesses encircled the prowand throned above the stern, and the interior of the deck-house wasadorned with delicate rilievi and painted by Tiepolo with scenes fromthe myth of Amphitrite. Here the new Duke seated himself, surrounded byhis household, and presently the heavy craft, rowed by sixtygalley-slaves, was moving slowly up the river toward Pianura. 

In the clear spring light the old walled city, with its domes andtowers, rose pleasantly among budding orchards and fields. Close at handwere the crenellations of Bracciaforte's keep, and just beyond, theornate cupola of the royal chapel, symbolising in their proximity thesuccessive ambitions of the ducal race; while the round-arched campanileof the Cathedral and the square tower of the mediaeval town-hall sprangup side by side, marking the centre of the free city which the Valseccashad subjugated. It seemed to the new Duke, who was given to suchreflections, that he could read his race's history in that brokenskyline; but he was soon snatched from its perusal by the cheers of thecrowd who thronged the river-bank to greet his approach. 

As the Bucentaur touched at the landing-stage and Odo stepped out on thered carpet strewn with flowers, while cannon thundered from the wallsand the bells burst into renewed jubilation, he felt himself for thefirst time face to face with his people. The very ceremonial which inother cases kept them apart was now a means of closer communication; forit was to show himself to them that he was making a public entry intohis capital, and it was to see him that the city had poured forth hershouting throngs. The shouts rose and widened as he advanced, envelopinghim in a mounting tide of welcome, in which cannon, bells andvoices--the decreed and the spontaneous acclamations--wereindistinguishably merged. In like manner, approbation of his person wasmingled with a simple enjoyment of the show of which he formed a part;and it must have taken a more experienced head than Odo's to distinguishbetween the two currents of enthusiasm on which he felt himself sweptforward. 

The pageant was indeed brilliant enough to justify the populartransport; and the fact that the new Duke formed a worthy centre to somuch magnificence was not lost on his splendour-loving subjects. Thelate sovereign had so long held himself aloof that the city wasunaccustomed to such shows, and as the procession wound into the squarebefore the Cathedral, where the thickest of the crowd was massed, thevery pealing of the church-bells was lost in the roar of human voices. 

Don Serafino, the Bishop's nephew, and now Master of the Horse, rodefirst, on a splendid charger, preceded by four trumpets and followed byhis esquires; then came the court dignitaries, attended by their pagesand staffieri in gala liveries, the marshals with their staves, themasters of ceremony, and the clergy mounted on mules trapped withvelvet, each led by two running footmen. The Duke rode next, alone andsomewhat pale. Two pages of arms, helmeted and carrying lances, walkedat his horse's bridle; and behind him came his household and ministers, with their gentlemen and a long train of servants, followed by theregiment of light horse which closed the procession. 

The houses surrounding the square afforded the best point of view tothose unwilling to mix with the crowd in the streets; and among thespectators thronging the windows and balconies, and leaning over theedge of the leads, were many who, from one motive or another, felt apersonal interest in the new Duke. The Marchioness of Boscofolto hadaccepted a seat in the windows of the Pievepelaghi palace, which formedan angle of the square, and she and her hostess--the same lady who hadbeen relieved of her diamond necklace by footpads suspected of wearingthe Duchess's livery--sat observing the scene behind the garlandedbalconies of the piano nobile. In the mezzanin windows of a neighbouringwine-shop the bookseller Andreoni, with half a dozen members of thephilosophical society to which Odo had belonged, peered above the headsof the crowd thronging the arcade, and through a dormer of the leadsCarlo Gamba, the assistant in the ducal library, looked out on thetriumph of his former patron. Among the Church dignities grouped abouthis Highness was Father Ignazio, the late Duke's confessor, now Prior ofthe Dominicans, and said to be withdrawn from political life. Seated onhis richly-trapped mule he observed the scene with impassive face; whilefrom his place in the long line of minor clergy, the abate Crescenti, with eyes of infinite tenderness and concern, watched the young Dukesolemnly ascending the Cathedral steps. 

In the porch the Bishop waited, impressive as ever in his white and golddalmatic, against the red robes of the chapter. Preceded by twochamberlains Odo mounted the steps amid the sudden silence of thepeople. The great bronze portals of the Cathedral, which were neveropened save on occasions of state, swung slowly inward, pouring a waveof music and incense out upon the hushed sunlit square; then they closedagain, engulphing the brilliant procession--the Duke, the Bishop, theclergy and the court--and leaving the populace to scatter in search ofthe diversions prepared for them at every street-corner. 

It was not till late that night that the new Duke found himself alone. He had withdrawn at last from the torch-lit balcony overlooking thesquare, whither the shouts of his subjects had persistently recalledhim. Silence was falling on the illuminated streets, and the dimness ofmidnight upon the sky through which rocket after rocket had torn itsbrilliant furrows. In the palace a profounder stillness reigned. Sincehis accession Odo, out of respect for the late Duke, had lodged in oneof the wings of the great building; but tradition demanded that heshould henceforth inhabit the ducal apartments, and thither, at theclose of the day's ceremonies, his gentlemen had conducted him. 

Trescorre had asked permission to wait on him before he slept; and heknew that the prime minister would be kept late by his conference withthe secret police, whose nightly report could not be handed in till thefestivities were over. Meanwhile Odo was in no mood for sleep. He satalone in the closet, still hung with saints' images and jewelledreliquaries, where his cousin had so often given him audience, andwhence, through the open door, he could see the embroidered curtains andplumed baldachin of the state bed which was presently to receive him. All day his heart had beat with high ambitions; but now a weight sankupon his spirit. The reaction from the tumultuous welcome of the streetsto the closely-guarded silence of the palace made him feel how unrealwas the fancied union between himself and his people, how insuperablethe distance that tradition and habit had placed between them. In thenarrow closet where his predecessor had taken refuge from the detestedtask of reigning, the new Duke felt the same moral lassitude steal overhim. How was such a puny will as his to contend against the great forcesof greed and prejudice? All the influences arrayed againsthim--tradition, superstition, the lust of power, the arrogance ofrace--seemed concentrated in the atmosphere of that silent room, withits guarded threshold, its pious relics, and lying on the desk in theembrasure of the window, the manuscript litany which the late Duke hadnot lived to complete. 

Oppressed by his surroundings, Odo rose and entered the bed-chamber. Alamp burned before the image of the Madonna at the head of the bed, andtwo lighted flambeaux flanked the picture of the Last Judgment on theopposite wall. Odo remembered the look of terror which the Duke hadfixed on the picture during their first strange conversation. Apraying-stool stood beneath it, and it was said that here, rather thanbefore the Virgin's image, the melancholy prince performed his privatedevotions. The horrors of the scene were depicted with a childishminuteness of detail, as though the painter had sought to produce animpression of moral anguish by the accumulation of physical sufferings;and just such puerile images of the wrath to come may have haunted themysterious recesses of the Duke's imagination. Crescenti had told Odohow the dying man's thoughts had seemed to centre upon this dreadfulsubject, and how again and again, amid his ravings, he had cried outthat the picture must be burned, as though the sight of it was becomeintolerable to him. 

Odo's own mind, across which the events and emotions of the day stillthrew the fantastic shadows of an expiring illumination, was wrought tothe highest state of impressionability. He saw in a flash all that thepicture must have symbolised to his cousin's fancy; and in his desire toreconstruct that dying vision of fleshly retribution, he stepped closeto the diptych, resting a knee on the stool beneath it. As he did so, the picture suddenly opened, disclosing the inner panel. Odo caught upone of the flambeaux, and in its light, as on a sunlit wave, therestepped forth to him the lost Venus of Giorgione. 

He knew the picture in an instant. There was no mistaking the glow ofthe limbs, the midsummer languor of the smile, the magical atmosphere inwhich the gold of sunlight, of autumn leaves, of amber grapes, seemedfused by some lost alchemy of the brush. As he gazed, the scene changed, and he saw himself in a darkened room with cabalistic hangings. He sawHeiligenstern's tall figure, towering in supernatural light, the Dukeleaning eagerly forward, the Duchess with set lips and troubled eyes, the little prince bent wonderingly above the magic crystal... 

A step in the antechamber announced Trescorre's approach. Odo returnedto the cabinet and the minister advanced with a low bow. The two men hadhad time to grow accustomed to the new relation in which they stood toone another, yet there were moments when, to Odo, the past seemed to lielike fallen leaves beneath Trescorre's steps--Donna Laura, fond andfoolish in her weeds, Gamba, Momola, and the pure featherhead Cerveno, dying at nineteen of a distemper because he had stood in the other'sway. The impression was strong on him now--but it was only momentary. Habit reasserted itself, and the minister effaced the man. Odo signed toTrescorre to seat himself and the latter silently presented his report. 

He was a diligent and capable administrator, and however mixed might bethe motives which attached him to his sovereign, they did not interferewith the exact performance of his duties. Odo knew this and was gratefulfor it. He knew that Trescorre, ambitious of the regency, had intriguedagainst him to the last. He knew that an intemperate love of power wasthe mainspring of that seemingly dispassionate nature. But death hadcrossed Trescorre's schemes; and he was too adroit an opportunist not tosee that his best chance now lay in making himself indispensable to hisnew sovereign. Of all this Odo was aware; but his own motives inappointing Trescorre did not justify his looking for greatdisinterestedness in his minister. The irony of circumstances had forcedthem upon each other, and each knew that the other understood thesituation and was prepared to make the best of it. 

The Duke presently rose, and handed back to Trescorre the reports of thesecret police. They were the documents he most disliked to handle. 

"You have acquitted yourself admirably of your disagreeable duties, " hesaid with a smile. "I hope I have done as well. At any rate the day isover. "

Trescorre returned the smile, with his usual tinge of irony. "Anotherhas already begun, " said he. 

"Ah, " said Odo, with a touch of impatience, "are we not to sleep on ourlaurels?"

Trescorre bowed. "Austria, your Highness, never sleeps. "

Odo looked at him with surprise. "What do you mean?"

"That I have to remind your Highness--"

"Of what--?"

Trescorre had one of his characteristic pauses. 

"That the Duke of Monte Alloro is in failing health--and that herHighness's year of widowhood ended yesterday. "

There was a silence. Odo, who had reseated himself, rose and walked tothe window. The shutters stood open and he looked out over the formlessobscurity of the gardens. Above the intervening masses of foliage theBorromini wing raised its vague grey bulk. He saw lights in MariaClementina's apartments and wondered if she still waked. An hour or twoearlier she had given him her hand in the contra-dance at the stateball. It was her first public appearance since the late Duke's death, and with the laying off of her weeds she had regained something of herformer brilliancy. At the moment he had hardly observed her: she hadseemed a mere inanimate part of the pageant of which he formed thethrobbing centre. But now the sense of her nearness pressed upon him. She seemed close to him, ingrown with his fate; and with the curiousduality of vision that belongs to such moments he beheld her again asshe had first shone on him--the imperious child whom he had angered bystroking her spaniel, the radiant girl who had welcomed him on hisreturn to Pianura. Trescorre's voice aroused him. 

"At any moment, " the minister was saying, "her Highness may fall heir toMonte Alloro. It is the moment for which Austria waits. There is alwaysan Archduke ready--and her Highness is still a young woman. "

Odo turned slowly from the window. "I have told you that this isimpossible, " he murmured. 

Trescorre looked down and thoughtfully fingered the documents in hishands. 

"Your Highness, " said he, "is as well-acquainted as your ministers withthe difficulties that beset us. Monte Alloro is one of the richeststates in Italy. It is a pity to alienate such revenues from Pianura. "

The new Duke was silent. His minister's words were merely the audibleexpression of his own thoughts. He knew that the future welfare ofPianura depended on the annexation of Monte Alloro. He owed it to hispeople to unite the two sovereignties. 

At length he said: "You are building on an unwarrantable assumption. "

Trescorre raised an interrogative glance. 

"You assume her Highness's consent. "

The minister again paused; and his pause seemed to flash an ironicallight on the poverty of the other's defences. 

"I come straight from her Highness, " said he quietly, "and I assumenothing that I am not in a position to affirm. "

Odo turned on him with a start. "Do I understand that you havepresumed--?"

His minister raised a deprecating hand. "Sir, " said he, "the Archduke'senvoy is in Pianura. "

4. 2. 

Odo, on his return to Pianura, had taken it for granted that de Cruciswould remain in his service. 

There had been little talk between the two on the way. The one was deepin his own wretchedness, and the other had too fine a tact to intrude onit; but Odo felt the nearness of that penetrating sympathy which wasalmost a gift of divination. He was glad to have de Crucis at his sideat a moment when any other companionship had been intolerable; and inthe egotism of his misery he imagined that he could dispose as hepleased of his friend's future. 

After the little Prince's death, however, de Crucis had at once askedpermission to leave Pianura. He was perhaps not displeased by Odo'sexpressions of surprise and disappointment; but they did not alter hisdecision. He reminded the new Duke that he had been called to Pianura asgovernor to the late heir, and that, death having cut short his task, hehad now no farther pretext for remaining. 

Odo listened with a strange sense of loneliness. The responsibilities ofhis new state weighed heavily on the musing speculative side of hisnature. Face to face with the sudden summons to action, with thenecessity for prompt and not too-curious choice of means and method, hefelt a stealing apathy of the will, an inclination toward the subtleduality of judgment that had so often weakened and diffused hisenergies. At such a crisis it seemed to him that, de Crucis gone, heremained without a friend. He urged the abate to reconsider hisdecision, begging him to choose a post about his person. 

De Crucis shook his head. 

"The offer, " said he, "is more tempting to me than your Highness canguess; but my business here is at an end, and must be taken upelsewhere. My calling is that of a pedagogue. When I was summoned totake charge of Prince Ferrante's education I gave up my position in thehousehold of Prince Bracciano not only because I believed that I couldmake myself more useful in training a future sovereign than the son of aprivate nobleman, but also, " he added with a smile, "because I wascurious to visit a state of which your Highness had so often spoken, andbecause I believed that my residence here might enable me to be ofservice to your Highness. In this I was not mistaken; and I will gladlyremain in Pianura long enough to give your Highness such counsels as myexperience suggests; but that business discharged, I must ask leave togo. "

From this position no entreaties could move him; and so fixed was hisresolve that it confirmed the idea that he was still a secret agent ofthe Jesuits. Strangely enough, this did not prejudice Odo, who was morethan ever under the spell of de Crucis's personal influence. Though Odohad been acquainted with many professed philosophers he had never metamong them a character so nearly resembling the old stoical ideal oftemperance and serenity, and he could never be long with de Cruciswithout reflecting that the training which could form and nourish sonoble a nature must be other than the world conceived it. 

De Crucis, however, frankly pointed out that his former connection withthe Jesuits was too well known in Pianura not to be an obstacle in theway of his usefulness. 

"I own, " said he, "that before the late Duke's death I exerted suchinfluence as I possessed to bring about your Highness's appointment asregent; but the very connections that favoured me with your predecessormust stand in the way of my serving your Highness. Nothing could be morefatal to your prospects than to have it said that you had chosen aformer Jesuit as your advisor. In the present juncture of affairs it isneedful that you should appear to be in sympathy with the liberals, andthat whatever reforms you attempt should seem the result of popularpressure rather than of your own free choice. Such an attitude may notflatter the sovereign's pride, and is in fact merely a higher form ofexpediency; but it is one which the proudest monarchs of Europe arefinding themselves constrained to take if they would preserve theirpower and use it effectually. "

Soon afterward de Crucis left Pianura; but before leaving he imparted toOdo the result of his observations while in the late Duke's service. DeCrucis's view was that of the more thoughtful men of his day who had notbroken with the Church, yet were conscious that the whole social systemof Europe was in need of renovation. The movement of ideas in France, and their rapid transformation into legislative measures of unforeseenimportance, had as yet made little impression in Italy; and the clergyin particular lived in serene unconsciousness of any impending change. De Crucis, however, had been much in France, and had frequented theFrench churchmen, who (save in the highest ranks of the hierarchy) werekeenly alive to the need of reform, and ready, in many instances, tosacrifice their own privileges in the public cause. These men, living intheir provincial cures or abbeys, were necessarily in closer contactwith the people, better acquainted with their needs and more competentto relieve them, than the city demagogues theorising in Parisiancoffee-houses on the Rights of Man and the Code of Nature. But the voiceof the demagogues carried farther than that of the clergy; and suchrevolutionary notions as crossed the Alps had more to do with thefounding of future Utopias than with the remedy of present evils. 

Even in France the temperate counsels of the clergy were being overruledby the sentimental imprudences of the nobles and by the bluster of thepoliticians. It was to put Odo on his guard against these two influencesthat de Crucis was chiefly anxious; but the intelligent cooperation ofthe clergy was sadly lacking in his administrative scheme. He knew thatOdo could not count on the support of the Church party, and that he mustmake what use he could of the liberals in his attempts at reform. Theclergy of Pianura had been in power too long to believe in the necessityof conceding anything to the new spirit; and since the banishment of theSociety of Jesus the presumption of the other orders had increasedinstead of diminishing. The priests, whatever their failings, hadattached the needy by a lavish bounty; and they had a powerful auxiliaryin the Madonna of the Mountain, who drew pilgrims from all parts ofItaly and thus contributed to the material welfare of the state as wellas to its spiritual privileges. To the common people their Virgin wasnot only a protection against disease and famine, but a kind of oracle, who by divers signs and tokens gave evidence of divine approval ordispleasure; and it was naturally to the priests that the faithfullooked for a reading of these phenomena. This gave the clergy a powerfulhold on the religious sensibilities of the people; and more than oncethe manifest disapproval of the Mountain Madonna had turned the scalesagainst some economic measure which threatened the rights of her augurs. 

De Crucis understood the force of these traditional influences; but Odo, in common with the more cultivated men of his day, had lived too long inan atmosphere of polite scepticism to measure the profound hold ofreligion on the consciousness of the people. Christ had been so longbanished from the drawing-room that it was has hard to believe that Hestill ruled in field and vineyard. To men of Odo's stamp the piety ofthe masses was a mere superficial growth, a kind of mental mould to bedried off by the first beams of knowledge. He did not conceive it as ahabit of thought so old that it had become instinctive, so closelyintertwined with every sense that to hope to eradicate it was liketrying to drain all the blood from a man's body without killing him. Heknew nothing of the unwearied workings of that power, patient as anatural force, which, to reach spirits darkened by ignorance and eyesdulled by toil, had stooped to a thousand disguises, humble, tender andgrotesque--peopling the earth with a new race of avenging or protectingdeities, guarding the babe in the cradle and the cattle in the stalls, blessing the good man's vineyard or blighting the crops of theblasphemer, guiding the lonely traveller over torrents and precipices, smoothing the sea and hushing the whirlwind, praying with the motherover her sick child, and watching beside the dead in plague-house andlazaret and galley--entering into every joy and grief of the obscurestconsciousness, penetrating to depths of misery which no human compassionever reached, and redressing by a prompt and summary justice wrongs ofwhich no human legislation took account. 

Odo's first act after his accession had been to recall the politicaloffenders banished by his predecessor; and so general was the custom ofmarking the opening of a new reign by an amnesty to political exiles, that Trescorre offered no opposition to the measure. Andreoni and hisfriends at once returned to Pianura, and Gamba at the same time emergedfrom his mysterious hiding-place. He was the only one of the group whostruck Odo as having any administrative capacity; yet he was more likelyto be of use as a pamphleteer than as an office-holder. As to the otherphilosophers, they were what their name implied: thoughtful andhigh-minded men, with a generous conception of their civic duties, and anoble readiness to fulfil them at any cost, but untrained to action, andtotally ignorant of the complex science of government. 

Odo found the hunchback changed. He had withered like Trescorre, butunder the harsher blight of physical privations; and his tongue had anadded bitterness. He replied evasively to all enquiries as to what hadbecome of him during his absence from Pianura; but on Odo's asking fornews of Momola and the child he said coldly: "They are both dead. "

"Dead?" Odo exclaimed. "Together?"

"There was scarce an hour between them, " Gamba answered. "She said shemust keep alive as long as the boy needed her--after that she turned onher side and died. "

"But of what disorder? How came they to sicken at the same time?"

The hunchback stood silent, his eyes on the ground. Suddenly he raisedthem and looked full at the Duke. 

"Those that saw them called it the plague. "

"The plague? Good God!" Odo slowly returned his stare. "Is itpossible--" he paused--"that she too was at the feast of the Madonna?"

"She was there, but it was not there that she contracted the distemper. "

"Not there--?"

"No; for she dragged herself from her bed to go. "

There was another silence. The hunchback had lowered his eyes. The Dukesat motionless, resting his head on his hand. Suddenly he made a gestureof dismissal... 

Two months after his state entry into Pianura Odo married his cousin'swidow. 

It surprised him, in looking back, to see how completely the thought ofMaria Clementina had passed out of his life, how wholly he had ceased toreckon with her as one of the factors in his destiny. At her child'sdeath-bed he had seen in her only the stricken mother, centred in herloss, and recalling, in an agony of tears, the little prince's propheticvision of the winged playmates who came to him carrying toys fromParadise. After Prince Ferrante's death she had gone on a long visit toher uncle of Monte Alloro; and since her return to Pianura she had livedin the dower-house, refusing Odo's offer of a palace in the town. Shehad first shown herself to the public on the day of the state entry; andnow, her year of widowhood over, she was again the consort of a reigningDuke of Pianura. 

No one was more ignorant than her husband of the motives determining heract. As Duchess of Monte Alloro she might have enjoyed the wealth andindependence which her uncle's death had bestowed on her, but inmarrying again she resigned the right to her new possessions, whichbecame vested in the crown of Pianura. Was it love that had prompted thesacrifice? As she stood beside him on the altar steps of the Cathedral, as she rode home beside him between their shouting subjects, Odo askedhimself the question again and again. The years had dealt lightly withher, and she had crossed the threshold of the thirties with the assuredstep of a woman who has no cause to fear what awaits her. But her bloodno longer spoke her thoughts, and the transparence of youth had changedto a brilliant density. He could not penetrate beneath the surface ofher smile: she seemed to him like a beautiful toy which might conceal alacerating weapon. 

Meanwhile between himself and any better understanding of her stood theremembrance of their talk in the hunting-lodge of Pontesordo. What shehad offered then he had refused to take: was she the woman to forgetsuch a refusal? Was it not rather to keep its memory alive that she hadmarried him? Or was she but the flighty girl he had once imagined her, driven hither and thither by spasmodic impulses, and incapable ofconsistent action, whether for good or ill? The barrier of theirpast--of all that lay unsaid and undone between them--so completely cuther off from him that he had, in her presence, the strange sensation ofa man who believes himself to be alone yet feels that he iswatched... The first months of their marriage were oppressed by thissense of constraint; but gradually habit bridged the distance betweenthem and he found himself at once nearer to her and less acutely awareof her. In the second year an heir was born and died; and the hopes andgrief thus shared drew them insensibly into the relation of the ordinaryhusband and wife, knitted together at the roots in spite of superficialdivergencies. 

In his passionate need of sympathy and counsel Odo longed to make themost of this enforced community of interests. Already his first zeal wasflagging, his belief in his mission wavering: he needed theencouragement of a kindred faith. He had no hope of finding in MariaClementina that pure passion for justice which seemed to him the noblestardour of the soul. He had read it in one woman's eyes, but these hadlong been turned from him. Unconsciously perhaps he counted rather onhis wife's less generous qualities: the passion for dominion, the blindarrogance of temper that, for the mere pleasure of making her powerfelt, had so often drawn her into public affairs. Might not this wasteforce--which implied, after all, a certain prodigality of courage--beused for good as well as evil? Might not his influence make of theundisciplined creature at his side an unconscious instrument in thegreat work of order and reconstruction?

His first appeal to her brought the answer. At his request his ministershad drawn up a plan of financial reorganisation, which should includethe two duchies; for Monte Alloro, though wealthier than Pianura, was ineven greater need of fiscal reform. As a first step towards replenishingthe treasury the Duke had declared himself ready to limit his privateexpenditure to a fixed sum; and he now asked the Duchess to pledgeherself in the same manner. Maria Clementina, since her uncle's death, had been in receipt of a third of the annual revenues of Monte Alloro. This should have enabled her to pay her debts and put some dignity andorder into her establishment; but the first year's income had gone inthe building of a villa on the Piana, in imitation of the country-seatsalong the Brenta; the second was spent in establishing a menagerie ofwild animals like that of the French Queen at Versailles; and rumour hadit that the Duchess carried her imitation of her royal cousin so far asto be involved in an ugly quarrel with her jewellers about a necklacefor which she owed a thousand ducats. 

All these reports had of course reached Odo; but he still hoped that anappeal to her love of dominion might prove stronger than the habit ofself-indulgence. He said to himself that nothing had ever been done torouse her ambition, that hitherto, if she had meddled in politics, ithad been merely from thwarted vanity or the desire to gratify somepersonal spite. Now he hoped to take her by higher passions, and byassociating her with his own schemes to utilise her dormant energies. 

For the first moments she listened with the strained fixity of a child;then her attention flickered and died out. The life-long habit ofreferring every question to a personal standpoint made it difficult forher to follow a general argument, and she leaned back with the resignedeyelids of piety under the pulpit. Odo, resolved to be patient, andseeing that the subject was too large for her, tried to take it apart, putting it before her bit by bit, and at such an angle that she shouldcatch her own reflection in it. He thought to take her by the Austrianside, touching on the well-known antagonism between Vienna and Rome, onthe reforms of the Tuscan Grand-Duke, on the Emperor Joseph's opendefiance of the Church's feudal claims. But she scented a personalapplication. 

"My cousin the Emperor should be a priest himself, " she shrugged, "forhe belongs to the preaching order. He never goes to France but he givesthe poor Queen such a scolding that her eyes are red for a week. HasJoseph been trying to set our house in order?"

Discouraged, but more than ever bent on patience, he tried the chord ofvanity, of her love of popularity. The people called her the beautifulDuchess--why not let history name her the great? But the mention ofhistory was unfortunate. It reminded her of her lesson-books, and of thestupid Greeks and Romans, whose dates she could never recall. She hopedshe should never be anything so dull as an historical personage! Andbesides, greatness was for the men--it was enough for a princess to bevirtuous. And she looked as edifying as her own epitaph. 

He caught this up and tried to make her distinguish between the publicand the private virtues. But the word "responsibility" slipped from himand he felt her stiffen. This was preaching, and she hated preachingeven more than history. Her attention strayed again and he rallied hisforces in a last appeal. But he knew it was a lost battle: everyargument broke against the close front of her indifference. He wastalking a language she had never learned--it was all as remote from heras Church Latin. A princess did not need to know Latin. She let her eyelinger suggestively on the clock. It was a fine hunting morning, and shehad meant to kill a stag in the Caccia del Vescovo. 

When he began to sum up, and the question narrowed to a direct appeal, her eyes left the clock and returned to him. Now she was listening. Hepressed on to the matter of retrenchment. Would she join him, would shehelp to make the great work possible? At first she seemed hardly tounderstand; but as his meaning grew clear to her--"Is the money nolonger ours?" she exclaimed. 

He hesitated. "I suppose it is as much ours as ever, " he said. 

"And how much is that?" she asked impatiently. 

"It is ours as a trust for our people. "

She stared in honest wonder. These were new signs in her heaven. 

"A trust? A trust? I am not sure that I know what that means. Is themoney ours or theirs?"

He hesitated. "In strict honour, it is ours only as long as we spend itfor their benefit. "

She turned aside to examine an enamelled patch-box by Van Blarenberghewhich the court jeweller had newly received from Paris. When she raisedher eyes she said: "And if we do not spend it for their benefit--?"

Odo glanced about the room. He looked at the delicate adornment of thewalls, the curtains of Lyons damask, the crystal girandoles, the toys inporcelain of Saxony and Sevres, in bronze and ivory and Chinese lacquer, crowding the tables and cabinets of inlaid wood. Overhead floated a rosyallegory by Luca Giordano; underfoot lay a carpet of the royalmanufactory of France; and through the open windows he heard the plashof the garden fountains and saw the alignment of the long green alleysset with the statues of Roman patriots. 

"Then, " said he--and the words sounded strangely in his own ears--"thenthey may take it from us some day--and all this with it, to the very toyyou are playing with. "

She rose, and from her fullest height dropped a brilliant smile on him;then her eyes turned to the portrait of the great fighting Duke set inthe monumental stucchi of the chimney-piece. 

"If you take after your ancestors you will know how to defend it, " shesaid. 

4. 3. 

The new Duke sat in his closet. The walls had been stripped of theirpious relics and lined with books, and above the fireplace hung theVenus of Giorgione, liberated at last from her long imprisonment. Thewindows stood open, admitting the soft September air. Twilight hadfallen on the gardens, and through it a young moon floated above thecypresses. 

On just such an evening three years earlier he had ridden down the slopeof the Monte Baldo with Fulvia Vivaldi at his side. How often, since, hehad relived the incidents of that night! With singular precision theysucceeded each other in his thoughts. He felt the wild sweep of thestorm across the lake, the warmth of her nearness, the sense of hercomplete trust in him; then their arrival at the inn, the dazzle oflight as they crossed the threshold, and de Crucis confronting themwithin. He heard her voice pleading with him in every accent that prideand tenderness and a noble loyalty could command; he felt her willslowly dominating his, like a supernatural power forcing him into hisdestined path; he felt--and with how profound an irony of spirit!--thepassion of self-dedication in which he had taken up his task. 

He had known moments of happiness since; moments when he believed inhimself and in his calling, and felt himself indeed the man she thoughthim. That was in the exaltation of the first months, when hisopportunities had seemed as boundless as his dreams, and he had not yetlearned that the sovereign's power may be a kind of spiritual prison tothe man. Since then, indeed, he had known another kind of happiness, hadbeen aware of a secret voice whispering within him that she was rightand had chosen wisely for him; but this was when he had realised that helived in a prison, and had begun to admire the sumptuous adornment ofits walls. For a while the mere external show of power amused him, andhis imagination was charmed by the historic dignity of his surroundings. In such a setting, against the background of such a past, it seemed easyto play the benefactor and friend of the people. His sensibility wastouched by the contrast, and he saw himself as a picturesque figurelinking the new dreams of liberty and equality to the feudal traditionsof a thousand years. But this masquerading soon ceased to divert him. The round of court ceremonial wearied him, and books and art lost theirfascination. The more he varied his amusements the more monotonous theybecame, the more he crowded his life with petty duties the more empty ofachievement it seemed. 

At first he had hoped to bury his personal disappointments in the taskof reconstructing his little state; but on every side he felt a muteresistance to his efforts. The philosophical faction had indeed pouredforth pamphlets celebrating his reforms, and comparing his reign to thereturn of the Golden Age. But it was not for the philosophers that helaboured; and the benefits of free speech, a free press, a seculareducation did not, after all, reach those over whom his heart yearned. It was the people he longed to serve; and the people were hungry, werefever-stricken, were crushed with tithes and taxes. It was hopeless totry to reach them by the diffusion of popular knowledge. They must firstbe fed and clothed; and before they could be fed and clothed the chainsof feudalism must be broken. 

Men like Gamba and Andreoni saw this clearly enough; but it was not fromthem that help could come. The nobility and clergy must be coaxed orcoerced into sympathy with the new movement; and to accomplish thisexceeded Odo's powers. In France, the revolt from feudalism had foundsome of its boldest leaders in the very class that had most to lose bythe change; but in Italy fewer causes were at work to set suchdisinterested passions in motion. South of the Alps liberalism wasmerely one of the new fashions from France: the men ran after thepamphlets from Paris as the women ran after the cosmetics; and thepolitics went no deeper than the powder. Even among the freestintellects liberalism resulted in a new way of thinking rather in a newway of living. Nowhere among the better classes was there any desire toattack existing institutions. The Church had never troubled the Latinconsciousness. The Renaissance had taught cultivated Italians how tolive at peace with a creed in which they no longer believed; and theireasy-going scepticism was combined with a traditional conviction thatthe priest knew better than any one how to deal with the poor, and thatthe clergy were of distinct use in relieving the individual conscienceof its obligation to its fellows. 

It was against such deep-seated habits of thought that Odo had tostruggle. Centuries of fierce individualism, or of sullen apathy under aforeign rule, had left the Italians incapable of any concerted politicalaction; but suspicion, avarice and vanity, combined with a lurking fearof the Church, united all parties in a kind of passive opposition toreform. Thus the Duke's resolve to put the University under laydirection had excited the enmity of the Barnabites, who had been at itshead since the suppression of the Society of Jesus; his efforts topartition among the peasantry the Caccia del Vescovo, that great wastedomain of the see of Pianura, had roused a storm of fear among all wholaid claim to feudal rights; and his own personal attempts atretrenchment, which necessitated the suppression of numerous courtoffices, had done more than anything else to increase his unpopularity. Even the people, in whose behalf these sacrifices were made, lookedaskance at his diminished state, and showed a perverse sympathy with thedispossessed officials who had taken so picturesque a part in the publicceremonials of the court. All Odo's philosophy could not fortify himagainst such disillusionments. He felt the lack of Fulvia'sunquestioning faith not only in the abstract beauty of the new idealsbut in their immediate adaptability to the complex conditions of life. Only a woman's convictions, nourished on sentiment and self-sacrifice, could burn with that clear unwavering flame: his own beliefs were at themercy of every wind of doubt or ingratitude that blew across hisunsheltered sensibilities. 

It was more than a year since he had had news of Fulvia. For a whilethey had exchanged letters, and it had been a consolation to tell her ofhis struggles and experiments, of his many failures and few results. Shehad encouraged him to continue the struggle, had analysed his variousplans of reform, and had given her enthusiastic support to thepartitioning of the Bishop's fief and the secularisation of theUniversity. Her own life, she said, was too uneventful to write of; butshe spoke of the kindness of her hosts, the Professor and his wife, ofthe simple unceremonious way of living in the old Calvinist city, and ofthe number of distinguished persons drawn thither by its atmosphere ofintellectual and social freedom. 

Odo suspected a certain colourlessness in the life she depicted. Thetone of her letters was too uniformly cheerful not to suggest a lack ofemotional variety; and he knew that Fulvia's nature, however much shefancied it under the rule of reason, was in reality fed by profoundcurrents of feeling. Something of her old ardour reappeared when shewrote of the possibility of publishing her father's book. Her friends inGeneva, having heard of her difficulty with the Dutch publisher, hadundertaken to vindicate her claims; and they had every hope that thematter would be successfully concluded. The joy of renewed activity withwhich this letter glowed would have communicated itself to Odo had hereceived it at a different time; but it came on the day of his marriage, and since then he had never written to her. 

Now he felt a sudden longing to break the silence between them, andseating himself at his desk he began to write. A moment later there wasa knock on the door and one of his gentlemen entered. The Count VittorioAlfieri, with a dozen horses and as many servants, was newly arrived atthe Golden Cross, and desired to know when he might have the honour ofwaiting on his Highness. 

Odo felt the sudden glow of pleasure that the news of Alfieri's comingalways brought. Here was a friend at last! He forgot the constraint oftheir last meeting in Florence, and remembered only the happyinterchange of ideas and emotions that had been one of the quickeninginfluences of his youth. 

Alfieri, in the intervening years, was grown to be one of the foremostfigures in Italy. His love for the Countess of Albany, persistingthrough the vicissitudes of her tragic marriage, had rallied thescattered forces of his nature. Ambitious to excel for her sake, to showhimself worthy of such a love, he had at last shaken off the strangetorpor of his youth, and revealed himself as the poet for whom Italywaited. In ten months of feverish effort he had poured forth fourteentragedies--among them the Antigone, the Virginia, and the Conjuration ofthe Pazzi. Italy started up at the sound of a new voice vibrating withpassions she had long since unlearned. Since Filicaja's thrilling appealto his enslaved country no poet had challenged the old Roman spiritwhich Petrarch had striven to rouse. While the literati were busydiscussing Alfieri's blank verse, while the grammarians wrangled overhis syntax and ridiculed his solecisms, the public, heedless of suchniceties, was glowing with the new wine which he had poured into the oldvessels of classic story. "Liberty" was the cry that rang on the lips ofall his heroes, in accents so new and stirring that his audience neverwearied of its repetition. It was no secret that his stories of ancientGreece and Rome were but allegories meant to teach the love of freedom;yet the Antigone had been performed in the private theatre of theSpanish Ambassador at Rome, the Virginia had been received with applauseon the public boards at Turin, and after the usual difficulties with thecensorship the happy author had actually succeeded in publishing hisplays at Siena. These volumes were already in Odo's hands, and amanuscript copy of the Odes to Free America was being circulated amongthe liberals in Pianura, and had been brought to his notice by Andreoni. 

To those hopeful spirits who looked for the near approach of a happierera, Alfieri was the inspired spokesman of reform, the heaven-sentprophet who was to lead his country out of bondage. The eyes of theItalian reformers were fixed with passionate eagerness on the course ofevents in England and France. The conclusion of peace between Englandand America, recently celebrated in Alfieri's fifth Ode, seemed to themost sceptical convincing proof that the rights of man were destined toa speedy triumph throughout the civilised world. It was not of a unitedItaly that these enthusiasts dreamed. They were not so much patriots asphilanthropists; for the teachings of Rousseau and his school, whileintensifying the love of man for man, had proportionately weakened thesense of patriotism, of the interets du clocher. The new man pridedhimself on being a citizen of the world, on sympathising as warmly withthe poetic savage of Peru as with his own prosaic and narrow-mindedneighbours. Indeed, the prevalent belief that the savage's mode of lifewas much nearer the truth than that of civilised Europeans, made itappear superfluous to enter into the grievances and difficulties of whatwas but a passing phase of human development. To cast off clothes andcodes, and live in a peaceful socialism "under the amiable reign ofTruth and Nature, " seemed on the whole much easier than to undertake thesystematic reform of existing abuses. 

To such dreamers--whose ideas were those of the majority of intelligentmen in France and Italy--Alfieri's high-sounding tirades embodied thenoblest of political creeds; and even the soberer judgment of statesmenand men of affairs was captivated by the grandeur of his verse and theheroic audacity of his theme. For the first time in centuries theItalian Muse spoke with the voice of a man; and every man's heart inItaly sprang up at the call. 

In the midst of these triumphs, fate in the shape of Cardinal York hadmomentarily separated Alfieri from his mistress, despatching thetoo-tender Countess to a discreet retreat in Alsace, and signifying toher turbulent adorer that he was not to follow her. Distracted by thisprohibition, Alfieri had resumed the nomadic habits of his youth, nowwandering from one Italian city to another, now pushing as far as Paris, which he hated but was always revisiting, now dashing across the Channelto buy thoroughbreds in England--for his passion for horses wasunabated. He was lately returned from such an expedition, having led hiscavalcade across the Alps in person, with a boyish delight in theastonishment which this fantastic exploit excited. 

The meeting between the two friends was all that Odo could have wished. Though affecting to scorn the courts of princes, Alfieri was not averseto showing himself there as the poet of the democracy, and to hearinghis heroes mouth their tyrannicidal speeches on the boards of royal andducal stages. He had lately made some stay in Milan, where he hadarrived in time to see his Antigone performed before the vice-regalcourt, and to be enthusiastically acclaimed as the high-priest ofliberty by a community living placidly under the Austrian yoke. Alfieriwas not the man to be struck by such incongruities. It was his fate toformulate creeds in which he had no faith: to recreate the politicalideals of Italy while bitterly opposed to any actual effort at reform, and to be regarded as the mouthpiece of the Revolution while heexecrated the Revolution with the whole force of his traditionalinstincts. As usual he was too deeply engrossed in his own affairs tofeel much interest in any others; but it was enough for Odo to clasp thehand of the man who had given a voice to the highest aspirations of hiscountrymen. The poet gave more than he could expect from the friend; andhe was satisfied to listen to Alfieri's account of his triumphs, interspersed with bitter diatribes against the public whose applause hecourted, and the Pope to whom, on bended knee, he had offered a copy ofhis plays. 

Odo eagerly pressed Alfieri to remain in Pianura, offering to put one ofthe ducal villas at his disposal, and suggesting that the Virginiashould be performed before the court on the Duchess's birthday. 

"It is true, " he said, "that we can offer you but an indifferent companyof actors; but it might be possible to obtain one or two of the leadingtragedians from Turin or Milan, so that the principal parts should atleast be worthily filled. "

Alfieri replied with a contemptuous gesture. "Your Highness, our leadingtragedians are monkeys trained to dance to the tune of Goldoni andMetastasio. The best are no better than the worst. We have no tragediansin Italy because--hitherto--we have had no tragic dramatist. " He drewhimself up and thrust a hand in his bosom. "Ah!" he exclaimed, "if Icould see the part of Virginia acted by the lady who recently recited, before a small company in Milan, my Odes to Free America! There indeedwere fire, sublimity and passion! And the countenance had not lost itsfreshness, the eye its lustre. But, " he suddenly added, "your Highnessknows of whom I speak. The lady is Fulvia Vivaldi, the daughter of thephilosopher at whose feet we sat in our youth. "

Fulvia Vivaldi! Odo raised his head with a start. She had left Genevathen, had returned to Italy. The Alps no longer divided them--a scantday's journey would bring him to her side! It was strange how the merethought seemed to fill the room with her presence. He felt her in thequickened beat of his pulses, in the sudden lightness of the air, in alifting and widening of the very bounds of thought. 

From Alfieri he learned that she had lived for some months in thehousehold of the distinguished naturalist, Count Castiglione, with whosedaughter's education she was charged. In such surroundings her wit andlearning could not fail to attract the best company of Milan, and shewas become one of the most noted figures of the capital. There had beensome talk of offering her the chair of poetry at the Brera; but thereport of her liberal views had deterred the faculty. Meanwhile the veryfact that she represented the new school of thought gave an added zestto her conversation in a society which made up for its mild servitudeunder the Austrian by much talk of liberalism and independence. TheSignorina Vivaldi became the fashion. The literati celebrated herscholarship, the sonneteers her eloquence and beauty; and no foreigneron the grand tour was content to leave Milan without having beheld thefair prodigy and heard her recite Petrarch's Ode to Italy, or the latestelegy of Pindamonte. 

Odo scarce knew with what feelings he listened. He could not butacknowledge that such a life was better suited to one of Fulvia's giftsand ambitions than the humdrum existence of a Swiss town; yet his firstsensation was one of obscure jealousy, of reluctance to think of her ashaving definitely broken with the past. He had pictured her as adrift, like himself, on a dark sea of uncertainties; and to learn that she hadfound a safe anchorage was almost to feel himself deserted. 

The court was soon busy with preparations for the coming performance. Acelebrated actress from Venice was engaged to play the part of Virginia, and the rehearsals went rapidly forward under the noble author'ssupervision. At last the great day arrived, and for the first time inthe history of the little theatre, operetta and pastoral were replacedby the buskined Muse of tragedy. The court and all the nobility werepresent, and though it was no longer thought becoming for ecclesiasticsto visit the theatre, the easy-going Bishop appeared in a side-box incompany with his chaplains and the Vicar-general. 

The performance was brilliantly successful. Frantic applause greeted thetirades of the young Icilius. Every outburst against the abuse ofprivileges and the insolence of the patricians was acclaimed byministers and courtiers, and the loudest in approval were the MarquessPievepelago, the recognised representative of the clericals, theMarchioness of Boscofolto, whose harsh enforcement of her feudal rightswas among the bitterest grievances of the peasantry, and the goodBishop, who had lately roused himself from his habitual indolence tooppose the threatened annexation of the Caccia del Vescovo. One and allproclaimed their ardent sympathy with the proletariat, their scorn oftyranny and extortion in high places; and if the Marchioness, on herreturn home, ordered one of her linkmen to be flogged for having trod onher gown; if Pievepelago the next morning refused to give audience to apoor devil of a pamphleteer that was come to ask his intercession withthe Holy Office; if the Bishop at the same moment concluded the purchaseof six able-bodied Turks from the galleys of his Serenity the Doge ofGenoa--it is probable that, like the illustrious author of the drama, all were unconscious of any incongruity between their sentiments andactions. 

As to Odo, seated in the state box, with Maria Clementina at his side, and the court dignitaries grouped in the background, he had not listenedto a dozen lines before all sense of his surroundings vanished and hebecame the passive instrument on which the poet played his mightyharmonies. All the incidental difficulties of life, all the vacillationsof an unsatisfied spirit, were consumed in that energising emotion whichseemed to leave every faculty stripped for action. Profounder meaningand more subtle music he had found in the great poets of the past; buthere was an appeal to the immediate needs of the hour, uttered in notesas thrilling as a trumpet-call, and brought home to every sense by thevivid imagery of the stage. Once more he felt the old ardour of beliefthat Fulvia's nearness had fanned in him. His convictions had flaggedrather than his courage: now they started up as at her summons, and heheard the ring of her voice in every line. 

He left the theatre still vibrating with this new inrush of life, andjealous of any interruption that should check it. The Duchess's birthdaywas being celebrated by illuminations and fireworks, and throngs ofmerry-makers filled the moonlit streets; but Odo, after appearing for amoment at his wife's side on the balcony above the public square, withdrew quietly to his own apartments. The casement of his closet stoodwide, and he leaned against the window-frame, looking out on the silentradiance of the gardens. As he stood there he saw two figures flitacross the farther end of one of the long alleys. The moonlightsurrendered them for a moment, the shade almost instantly reclaimingthem--strayed revellers, doubtless, escaping from the lights and musicof the Duchess's circle. 

A knock roused the Duke and he remembered that he had bidden Gamba waiton him after the performance. He had been curious to hear whatimpression Alfieri's drama had produced upon the hunchback; but now anyinterruption seemed unwelcome, and he turned to Gamba with a gesture ofdismissal. 

The latter however remained on the threshold. 

"Your Highness, " he said, "the bookseller Andreoni craves the privilegeof an audience. "

"Andreoni? At this hour?"

"For reasons so urgent that he makes no doubt of your Highness'sconsent; and to prove his good faith, and the need of presenting himselfat so undue an hour, and in this private manner, he charged me to givethis to your Highness. "

He laid in the Duke's hand a small object in blackened silver, which onnearer inspection proved to be the ducal coat-of-arms. 

Odo stood gazing fixedly at this mysterious token, which seemed to comeas an answer to his inmost thoughts. His heart beat high with confusedhopes and fears, and he could hardly control the voice in which heanswered: "Bid Andreoni come to me. "

4. 4. 

The bookseller began by excusing himself for the liberty he had taken. He explained that the Signorina Fulvia Vivaldi, in whose behalf he came, was in urgent need of aid, and had begged him to wait on the Duke assoon as the court had risen from the play. 

"She is in Pianura, then?" Odo exclaimed. 

"Since yesterday, your Highness. Three days since she was ordered by thepolice to leave Milan within twenty-four hours, and she came at once toPianura, knowing that my wife and I would gladly receive her. But todaywe learned that the Holy Office was advised of her presence here, and ofthe reason of her banishment from Lombardy; and this fresh danger hasforced her to implore your Highness's protection. "

Andreoni went on to explain that the publication of her father's bookwas the immediate cause of Fulvia's persecution. The Origin ofCivilisation, which had been printed some months previously inAmsterdam, had stirred Italy more profoundly than any book sinceBeccaria's great work on Crime and Punishment. The author's historicalinvestigations were but a pretext for the development of his politicaltheories, which were set forth with singular daring and audacity, andsupported by all the arguments that his long study of the pastcommanded. The temperate and judicial tone which he had succeeded inpreserving enhanced the effect of his arraignment of Church and state, and while his immense erudition commended his work to the learned, itsdirectness of style gave it an immediate popularity with the generalreader. It was an age when every book or pamphlet bearing on the greatquestion of personal liberty was eagerly devoured by an insatiablepublic; and a few weeks after Vivaldi's volume had been smuggled intoItaly it was the talk of every club and coffee-house from Calabria toPiedmont. The inevitable result soon followed. The Holy Office got windof the business, and the book was at once put on the Index. In Naplesand Bologna it was publicly burned, and in Modena a professor of theUniversity who was found to have a copy in his possession was fined andremoved from his chair. 

In Milan, where the strong liberal faction among the nobility, and thecomparative leniency of the Austrian rule, permitted a more unrestraineddiscussion of political questions, the Origin of Civilisation wasreceived with open enthusiasm, and the story of the difficulties thatFulvia had encountered in its publication made her the heroine of themoment. She had never concealed her devotion to her father's doctrines, and in the first glow of filial pride she may have yielded too openly tothe desire to propagate them. Certain it is that she began to be lookedon as having shared in the writing of the book, or as being at least anactive exponent of its principles. Even in Lombardy it was not well tobe too openly associated with the authorship of a condemned book; andFulvia was suddenly advised by the police that her presence in Milan wasno longer acceptable to the government. 

The news excited great indignation among her friends, and CountCastiglione and several other gentlemen of rank hastened to intervene inher behalf; but the governor declared himself unwilling to take issuewith the Holy Office on a doctrinal point, and privately added that itwould be well for the Signorina Vivaldi to withdraw from Lombardy beforethe clergy brought any direct charge against her. To ignore this hintwould have been to risk not only her own safety but that of thegentlemen who had befriended her; and Fulvia at once set out forPianura, the only place in Italy where she could count on friendship andprotection. 

Andreoni and his wife would gladly have given her a home; but onlearning that the Holy Office was on her track, she had refused tocompromise them by remaining under their roof, and had insisted thatAndreoni should wait on the Duke and obtain a safe-conduct for her thatvery night. 

Odo listened to this story with an agitation compounded of strangelycontradictory sensations. To learn that Fulvia, at the very moment whenhe had pictured her as separated from him by the happiness and securityof her life, was in reality a proscribed wanderer with none but himselfto turn to, filled him with a confused sense of happiness; but thediscovery that, in his own dominions, the political refugee was not safefrom the threats of the Holy Office, excited a different emotion. Allthese considerations, however, were subordinate to the thought that hemust see Fulvia at once. It was impossible to summon her to the palaceat that hour, or even to secure her safety till morning, withoutcompromising Andreoni by calling attention to the fact that a suspectedperson was under his roof; and for a moment Odo was at a loss how todetain her in Pianura without seeming to go counter to her wishes. 

Suddenly he remembered that Gamba was fertile in expedients, and callingin the hunchback, asked what plan he could devise. Gamba, after amoment's reflection, drew a key from his pocket. 

"May it please your Highness, " he said, "this unlocks the door of thehunting-lodge at Pontesordo. The place has been deserted these manyyears, because of its bad name, and I have more than once found it aconvenient shelter when I had reasons for wishing to be private. At thisseason there is no fear of poison from the marshes, and if your Highnessdesires I will see that the lady finds her way there before sunrise. "

The sun had hardly risen the next morning when the Duke himself setforth. He rode alone, dressed like one of his own esquires, and gave theword unremarked to the sleepy sentinel at the gate. As it closed behindhim and he set out down the long road that led to the chase, it seemedto him that the morning solitude was thronged with spectral memories. Melancholy and fanciful they flitted before him, now in the guise ofCerveno and Momola, now of Maria Clementina and himself. Every detail ofthe scene was interwoven with the fibres of early association, from thefar off years when, as a lonely child on the farm at Pontesordo, he hadgazed across the marsh at the mysterious woodlands of the chase, to thelater day when, in the deserted hunting-lodge, the Duchess had flung herwhip at the face in the Venice mirror. 

He pressed forward impatiently, and presently the lodge rose before himin its grassy solitude. The level sunbeams had not yet penetrated thesurrounding palisade of boughs, and the house lay in a chill twilightthat seemed an emanation from its mouldering walls. As Odo approached, Gamba appeared from the shadow and took his horse; and the next momenthe had pushed open the door, and stood in Fulvia's presence. 

She was seated at the farther end of the room, and as she rose to meethim it chanced that her head, enveloped in its black travelling-hood, was relieved for a moment against the tarnished background of the brokenmirror. The impression struck a chill to his heart; but it was replacedby a glow of boyish happiness as their eyes met and he felt her hands inhis. 

For a moment all his thoughts were lost in the mere sense of hernearness. She seemed simply an enveloping atmosphere in which he drewfresh breath; but gradually her outline emerged from this haze offeeling, and he found himself looking at her with the wondering gaze ofa stranger. She had been a girl of sixteen when they first met. Twelveyears had passed since then, and she was now a woman of twenty-eight, belonging to a race in which beauty ripens early and as soon declines. But some happy property of nature--whether the rare mould of herfeatures or the gift of the spirit that informed them--had held herloveliness intact, preserving the clear lines of youth after its bloomwas gone, and making her seem like a lover's memory of herself. So sheappeared at first, a bright imponderable presence gliding toward him outof the past; but as her hands lay in his the warm current of life wasrenewed between them, and the woman dispossessed the shade. 

4. 5. 

Unpublished fragment from Mr. Arthur Young's diary of his travels inItaly in the year 1789. 

October 1st. 

Having agreed with a vetturino to carry me to Pianura, set out thismorning from Mantua. The country mostly arable, with rows of elm andmaple pollard. Dined at Casal Maggiore, in an infamous filthy inn. Atdinner was joined by a gentleman who had taken the other seat in thevettura as far as Pianura. We engaged in conversation and I found him aman of lively intelligence and the most polished address. Though dressedin the foreign style, en abbe, he spoke English with as much fluency asmyself, and but for the philosophical tone of his remarks I had takenhim for an ecclesiastic. Altogether a striking and somewhat perplexingcharacter: able, keen, intelligent, evidently used to the best company, yet acquainted with the condition of the people, the methods of farming, and other economical subjects such as are seldom thought worthy ofattention among Italians of quality. 

It appeared he was newly from France, where he had been as much struckas myself by the general state of ferment. Though owning that there wasmuch reason for discontent, and that the conduct of the court andministers was blind and infatuated beyond belief, he yet declaredhimself gravely apprehensive of the future, saying that the people knewnot what they wanted, and were unwilling to listen to those that mighthave proved their best advisors. Whether by this he meant the clergy Iknow not; though I observed he spoke favourably of that body in France, pointing out that, long before the recent agitations, they had defendedthe civil rights of the Third Estate, and citing many cases in which thecountry curates had shown themselves the truest friends of the people: afact my own observation hath confirmed. 

I remarked to him that I was surprised to find how little talk there wasin Italy of the distracted conditions in France; and this though thecountry is overrun with French refugees, or emigres, as they callthemselves, who bring with them reports that might well excite the alarmof neighbouring governments. He said he had remarked the sameindifference, but that this was consonant with the Italian character, which never looked to the morrow; and he added that the mild dispositionof the people, and their profound respect for religion, were sufficientassurance against any political excess. 

To this I could not forbear replying that I could not regard as excessesthe just protests of the poor against the unlawful tyranny of theprivileged classes, nor forbear to hail with joy the dawn of that lightof freedom which hath already shed so sublime an effulgence on the wildsof the New World. The abate took this in good part, though I could seehe was not wholly of my way of thinking; but he declared that in hisopinion different races needed different laws, and that the sturdy andtemperate American colonists were fitted to enjoy a greater measure ofpolitical freedom than the more volatile French and Italians--as thoughliberty were not destined by the Creator to be equally shared by allmankind! (Footnote: I let this passage stand, though the late unhappyevents in France have, alas! proved that my friend the abate was nearerright than myself. June, 1794. )

In the afternoon through a poor country to Ponte di Po, a miserablevillage on the borders of the duchy, where we lay, not slept, in ourclothes, at the worst inn I have yet encountered. Here our luggage wasplumbed for Pianura. The impertinence of the petty sovereigns totravellers in Italy is often intolerable, and the customs officers showthe utmost insolence in the search for seditious pamphlets and othercontraband articles; but here I was agreeably surprised by the courtesyof the officials and the despatch with which our luggage was examined. On my remarking this, my companion replied that the Duke of Pianura wasa man of liberal views, anxious to encourage foreigners to visit hisstate, and the last to put petty obstacles in the way of travel. Ianswered, this was the report I had heard of him; and it was in the hopeof learning something more of the reforms he was said to have effected, that I had turned aside to visit the duchy. My companion replied thathis Highness had in fact introduced some innovations in the government;but that changes which seemed the most beneficial in one direction oftenworked mischief in another, so that the wisest ruler was perhaps not hethat did the greatest amount of good, but he that was cause of thefewest evils. 

The 2nd. 

From Ponte di Po to Pianura the most convenient way is by water; but theriver Piana being greatly swollen by the late rains, my friend, whoseems well-acquainted with the country, proposed driving thither: asuggestion I readily accepted, as it gave me a good opportunity to studythe roads and farms of the duchy. 

Crossing the Piana, drove near four hours over horrible roads acrosswaste land, thinly wooded, without houses or cultivation. On myexpressing surprise that the territory of so enlightened a prince wouldlie thus neglected, the abate said this land was a fief of the see ofPianura, and that the Duke was desirous of annexing it to the duchy. Iasked if it were true that his Highness had given his people aconstitution modelled on that of the Duke of Tuscany. He said he hadheard the report; but that for his part he must deplore any measuretending to debar the clergy from the possession of land. Seeing mysurprise, he explained that, in Italy at least, the religious orderswere far better landlords than the great nobles or the petty sovereigns, who, being for the most part absent from their estates, left theirpeasantry to be pillaged by rapacious middlemen and stewards: anargument I have heard advanced by other travellers, and have myself hadfrequent occasion to corroborate. 

On leaving the Bishop's domain, remarked an improvement in the roads. Flat land, well irrigated, and divided as usual into small holdings. Thepernicious metayer system exists everywhere, but I am told the Duke isopposed to it, though it is upheld not only by the landed class, but bythe numerous economists that write on agriculture from their closets, but would doubtless be sorely puzzled to distinguish a beet-root from aturnip. 

The 3rd. 

Set out early to visit Pianura. The city clean and well-kept. The Dukehas introduced street-lamps, such as are used in Turin, and the pavementis remarkably fair and even. Few beggars are to be seen and the peoplehave a thriving look. Visited the Cathedral and Baptistery, in theGothic style, more curious than beautiful; also the Duke's picturegallery. 

Learning that the Duchess was to ride out in the afternoon, had thecuriosity to walk abroad to see her. A good view of her as she left thepalace. Though no longer in her first youth she is one of the handsomestwomen I have seen. Remarked a decided likeness to the Queen of France, though the eye and smile are less engaging. The people in the streetsreceived her sullenly, and I am told her debts and disorders are thescandal of the town. She has, of course, her cicisbeo, and the Duke isthe devoted slave of a learned lady, who is said to exert an unlimitedinfluence over him, and to have done much to better the condition of thepeople. A new part for a prince's mistress to play!

In the evening to the theatre, a handsome building, well-lit with wax, where Cimarosa's Due Baroni was agreeably sung. 

The 4th. 

My lord Hervey, in Florence, having favoured me with a letter to CountTrescorre, the Duke's prime minister, I waited on that gentlemanyesterday. His excellency received me politely and assured me that heknew me by reputation and would do all he could to put me in the way ofinvestigating the agricultural conditions of the duchy. Contrary to theItalian custom, he invited me to dine with him the next day. As a rulethese great nobles do not open their doors to foreigners, however wellrecommended. 

Visited, by appointment, the press of the celebrated Andreoni, who wasbanished during the late Duke's reign for suspected liberal tendencies, but is now restored to favour and placed at the head of the RoyalTypography. Signor Andreoni received me with every mark of esteem, andafter having shown me some of the finest examples of his work--such asthe Pindar, the Lucretius and the Dante--accompanied me to aneighbouring coffee-house, where I was introduced to several lovers ofagriculture. Here I learned some particulars of the Duke's attemptedreforms. He has undertaken the work of draining the vast marsh ofPontesordo, to the west of the city, notorious for its mal'aria; hasrenounced the monopoly of corn and tobacco; has taken the University outof the hands of the Barnabites, and introduced the teaching of thephysical sciences, formerly prohibited by the Church; has spent sincehis accession near 200, 000 liv. On improving the roads throughout theduchy, and is now engaged in framing a constitution which shall deprivethe clergy of the greatest part of their privileges and confirm thesovereign's right to annex ecclesiastical territory for the benefit ofthe people. 

In spite of these radical measures, his Highness is not popular with themasses. He is accused of irreligion by the monks that he has removedfrom the University, and his mistress, the daughter of a notedfree-thinker who was driven from Piedmont by the Inquisition, is said tohave an unholy influence over him. I am told these rumours arediligently fomented by the late Duke's minister, now Prior of theDominican monastery, a man of bigoted views but great astuteness. Thetruth is, the people are so completely under the influence of the friarsthat a word is enough to turn them against their truest benefactors. 

In the afternoon I was setting out to visit the Bishop's gallery whenCount Trescorre's secretary waited on me with an invitation to inspectthe estates of the Marchioness of Boscofolto: an offer I readilyaccepted--for what are the masterpieces of Raphael or Cleomenes to thesight of a good turnip field or of a well-kept dairy?

I had heard of Boscofolto, which was given by the late Duke to hismistress, as one of the most productive estates of the duchy; but greatwas my disappointment on beholding it. Fine gardens there are, to besure, clipt walks, leaden statues, and water-works; but as for thefarms, all is dirt, neglect, disorder. Spite of the lady's wealth, allare let out alla meta, and farmed on principles that would disgrace asavage. The spade used instead of the plough, the hedges neglected, mole-casts in the pastures, good land run to waste, the peasantsstarving and indebted--where, with a little thrift and humanity, all hadbeen smiling plenty! Learned that on the owner's death this greatproperty reverts to the Barnabites. 

From Boscofolto to the church of the Madonna del Monte, where is one oftheir wonder-working images, said to be annually visited by close onthirty thousand pilgrims; but there is always some exaggeration in suchfigures. A fine building, richly adorned, and hung with an extraordinarynumber of votive offerings: silver arms, legs, hearts, wax images, andpaintings. Some of these latter are clearly the work of village artists, and depict the miraculous escape of the peasantry from variouscalamities, and the preservation of their crops from floods, drought, lightning and so forth. These poor wretches had done more to bettertheir crops by spending their savings in good ploughshares and harrowsthan by hanging gew-gaws on a wooden idol. 

The Rector received us civilly and showed us the treasury, full ofjewels and costly plate, and the buildings where the pilgrims arelodged. Learned that the Giubileo or centenary festival of the Madonnais shortly to be celebrated with great pomp. The poorer classes delightin these ceremonies, and I am told this is to surpass all previous ones, the clergy intending to work on the superstitions of the people and thusturn them against the new charter. It is said the Duke hopes tocounteract these designs by offering a jewelled diadem to the Virgin;but this will no doubt do him a bad turn with the esprits libres. Theselittle states are as full of intrigues as a foul fruit of maggots. 

The 5th. 

To dinner at Count Trescorre's where, as usual, I was theplainest-dressed man in the company. Have long since ceased to beconcerned by this: why should a mere English farmer compete in elegancewith these Monsignori and Illustrissimi? Surprised to find among thecompany my travelling-companion of the other day. Learned that he is theabate de Crucis, a personal friend of the Duke's. He greeted mecordially, and on hearing my name, said that he was acquainted with myworks in the translation of Mons. Freville, and now understood how itwas that I had got the better of him in our farming disputations on theway hither. 

Was surprised to be told by Count Trescorre that the Duke desired me towait on him that evening. Though in general not ambitious of suchhonours, yet in this case nothing could be more gratifying. 

The 6th. 

Yesterday evening to the palace, where his Highness received me withgreat affability. He was in his private apartments, with the abate deCrucis and several other learned men; among them the famous abateCrescenti, librarian to his Highness and author of the celebratedChronicles of the Italian States. Happy indeed is the prince whosurrounds himself with scholars instead of courtiers! Yet I cannot saythat the impression his Highness produced on me was one of HAPPINESS. His countenance is sad, almost careworn, though with a smile of engagingsweetness; his manner affable without condescension, and open withoutfamiliarity. I am told he is oppressed by the cares of his station; andfrom a certain irresolution of voice and eye, that bespeaks not so muchweakness as a speculative cast of mind, I can believe him less fittedfor active government than for the meditations of the closet. Heappears, however, zealous to perform his duties; questioned me eagerlyabout my impressions of Italy, and showed a flattering familiarity withmy works, and a desire to profit by what he was pleased to call myexceptional knowledge of agriculture. I thought I perceived in him asincere wish to study the welfare of his people; but was disappointed tofind among his chosen associates not one practical farmer or economist, but only the usual closet-theorists that are too busy planning Utopiasto think of planting turnips. 

The 7th. 

Visited his Highness's estate at Valsecca. Here he has converted ahandsome seat into a school of agriculture, tearing down an immenseorangery to plant mulberries, and replacing costly gardens and statuaryby well-tilled fields: a good example to his wealthy subjects. Unfortunately his bailiff is not what we should call a practical farmer;and many acres of valuable ground are given up to a botanic garden, where exotic plants are grown at great expense, and rather for curiositythan use: a common error of noble agriculturists. 

In the afternoon with the abate de Crucis to the Benedictine monastery, a league beyond the city. Here I saw the best farming in the duchy. ThePrior received us politely and conversed with intelligence on drainage, crops and irrigation. I urged on him the cultivation of turnips and heappeared struck by my arguments. The tenants on this great estateappeared better housed and fed than any I have seen in Pianura. Themonks have a school of agriculture, less pretentious but better-managedthan the Duke's. Some of them study physics and chemistry, and there aregood chirurgeons among them, who care for the poor without pay. The agedand infirm peasants are housed in a neat almshouse, and the sick nursedin a clean well-built lazaret. Altogether an agreeable picture of ruralprosperity, though I had rather it had been the result of FREE LABOURthan of MONASTIC BOUNTY. 

The 8th. 

By appointment, to the Duke's Egeria. This lady, the Signorina F. V. , having heard that I was in Pianura, had desired the Signor Andreoni tobring me to her. 

I had expected a female of the loud declamatory type: something of theCorilla Olimpica order; but in this was agreeably disappointed. TheSignorina V. Is modestly lodged, lives in the frugal style of the middleclass, and refuses to accept a title, though she is thus debarred fromgoing to court. Were it not indiscreet to speculate on a lady's age, Ishould put hers at somewhat above thirty. Though without the Duchess'scommanding elegance she has, I believe, more beauty of a quiet sort: acountenance at once soft and animated, agreeably tinged with melancholy, yet lit up by the incessant play of thought and emotion that succeedeach other in her talk. Better conversation I never heard; and canheartily confirm the assurances of those who had told me that the ladywas as agreeable in discourse as learned in the closet. (Footnote: Ithas before now been observed that the FREE and VOLATILE manners offoreign ladies tend to blind the English traveller to the inferiority oftheir PHYSICAL charms. Note by a Female Friend of the Author. )

On entering, found a numerous company assembled to compliment my hostesson her recent appointment as doctor of the University. This is an honournot uncommonly conferred in Italy, where female learning, perhaps fromits rarity, is highly esteemed; but I am told the ladies thusdistinguished seldom speak in public, though their degree entitles themto a chair in the University. In the Signorina V. 's society I found themost advanced reformers of the duchy: among others Signor Gamba, thefamous pamphleteer, author of a remarkable treatise on taxation, whichhad nearly cost him his liberty under the late Duke's reign. He is a manof extreme views and sarcastic tongue, with an irritability of mannerthat is perhaps the result of bodily infirmities. His ideas, I am told, have much weight with the fair doctoress; and in the lampoons of the daythe new constitution is said to be the offspring of their amours, and tohave inherited its father's deformity. 

The company presently withdrawing, my hostess pressed me to remain. Shewas eager for news from France, spoke admiringly of the newconstitution, and recited in a moving manner an Ode of her owncomposition on the Fall of the Bastille. Though living so retired shemakes no secret of her connection with the Duke; said he had told her ofhis conversation with me, and asked what I thought of his plan fordraining the marsh of Pontesordo. On my attempting to reply to this indetail, I saw that, like some of the most accomplished of her sex, shewas impatient of minutiae, and preferred general ideas to particularinstances; but when the talk turned on the rights of the people I wasstruck by the energy and justice of her remarks, and by a tone ofresolution and courage that made me to say to myself: "Here is the handthat rules the state. "

She questioned me earnestly about the state of affairs in France, beggedme to lend her what pamphlets I could procure, and while making nosecret of her republican sympathies, expressed herself with a moderationnot always found in her sex. Of the clergy alone she appearedintolerant: a fact hardly to be wondered at, considering the persecutionto which she and her father have been subjected. She detained me neartwo hours in such discourse, and on my taking leave asked with some showof feeling what I, as a practical economist, would advise the Duke to dofor the benefit of his people; to which I replied, "Plant turnips, madam!" and she laughed heartily, and said no doubt I was right. But Ifear all the heads here are too full of fine theories to condescend tosuch simple improvements... 

4. 6. 

Fulvia, in the twilight, sat awaiting the Duke. 

The room in which she sat looked out on a stone-flagged cloisterenclosing a plot of ground planted with yews; and at the farther end ofthis cloister a door communicated by a covered way with the ducalgardens. The house had formed a part of the convent of the PerpetualAdoration, which had been sold by the nuns when they moved to the newbuildings the late Duke had given them. A portion had been torn down tomake way for the Marquess of Cerveno's palace, and in the remainingfragment, a low building wedged between high walls, Fulvia had found alodging. Her whole dwelling consisted of the Abbess's parlour, in whichshe now sat, and the two or three adjoining cells. The tall presses inthe parlour had been filled with her father's books, and surmounted byhis globes and other scientific instruments. But for this the apartmentremained as unadorned as in her predecessor's day; and Fulvia, in heraustere black gown, with a lawn kerchief folded over her breast, and theunpowdered hair drawn back from her pale face, might herself have passedfor the head of a religious community. 

She cultivated with almost morbid care this severity of dress andsurroundings. There were moments when she could hardly tolerate the paleautumnal beauty which her glass reflected, when even this phantom ofyouth and radiance became a stumbling-block to her spiritual pride. Shewas not ashamed of being the Duke of Pianura's mistress; but she had ahorror of being thought like the mistresses of other princes. Sheloathed all that the position represented in men's minds; she hadrefused all that, according to the conventions of the day, it entitledher to claim: wealth, patronage, and the rank and estates which it wascustomary for the sovereign to confer. She had taken nothing from Odobut his love, and the little house in which he had lodged her. 

Three years had passed since Fulvia's flight to Pianura. From the momentwhen she and Odo had stood face to face again, it had been clear to himthat he could never give her up, to her that she could never leave him. Fate seemed to have thrown them together in derision of their longstruggle, and both felt that lassitude of the will which is the reactionfrom vain endeavour. The discovery that he needed her, that the task forwhich he had given her up could after all not be accomplished withouther, served to overcome her last resistance. If the end for which bothstrove could best be attained together--if he needed the aid of herunfaltering faith as much as she needed that of his wealth andpower--why should any personal scruple stand between them? Why shouldshe who had given all else to the cause--ease, fortune, safety, and eventhe happiness that lay in her hand--hesitate to make the final sacrificeof a private ideal? According to the standards of her day there was nodishonour to a woman in being the mistress of a man whose rank forbadehis marrying her: the dishonour lay in the conduct which had come to beassociated with such relations. Under the old dispensation the influenceof the prince's mistress had stood for the last excesses of moral andpolitical corruption; why might it not, under the new law, come torepresent as unlimited a power for good?

So love, the casuist, argued; and during those first months, whenhappiness seemed at last its own justification, Fulvia lived in everyfibre. But always, even then, she was on the defensive against thathigher tribunal which her own conception of life had created. In spiteof herself she was a child of the new era, of the universal reactionagainst the falseness and egotism of the old social code. A standard ofconduct regulated by the needs of the race rather than by individualpassion, a conception of each existence as a link in the great chain ofhuman endeavour, had slowly shaped itself out of the wild theories andvague "codes" of the eighteenth-century moralists; and with this senseof the sacramental nature of human ties, came a renewed reverence formoral and physical purity. 

Fulvia was of those who require that their lives shall be an affirmationof themselves; and the lack of inner harmony drove her to seek someoutward expression of her ideals. She threw herself with renewed passioninto the political struggle. The best, the only justification of herpower, was to use it boldly, openly, for the good of the people. All therepressed forces of her nature were poured into this single channel. Shehad no desire to conceal her situation, to disguise her influence overOdo. She wished it rather to be so visible a factor in his relationswith his people that she should come to be regarded as the ultimatepledge of his good faith. But, like all the casuistical virtues, thisposition had the rigidity of something created to fit a special case;and the result was a fixity of attitude, which spread benumbingly overher whole nature. She was conscious of the change, yet dared notstruggle against it, since to do so was to confess the weakness of hercase. She had chosen to be regarded as a symbol rather than a woman, andthere were moments when she felt as isolated from life as some marbleallegory in its niche above the market-place. 

It was the desire to associate herself with the Duke's public life thathad induced her, after much hesitation, to accept the degree which theUniversity had conferred on her. She had shared eagerly in the work ofreconstructing the University, and had been the means of drawing toPianura several teachers of distinction from Padua and Pavia. It was herdream to build up a seat of learning which should attract students fromall parts of Italy; and though many young men of good family hadwithdrawn from the classes when the Barnabites were dispossessed, shewas confident that they would soon be replaced by scholars from otherstates. She was resolved to identify herself openly with the educationalreform which seemed to her one of the most important steps toward civicemancipation; and she had therefore acceded to the request of thefaculty that, on receiving her degree, she should sustain a thesisbefore the University. This ceremony was to take place a few days hence, on the Duke's birthday; and, as the new charter was to be proclaimed onthe same day, Fulvia had chosen as the subject of her discourse theConstitution recently promulgated in France. 

She pushed aside the bundle of political pamphlets which she had beenstudying, and sat looking out at the strip of garden beyond the archesof the cloister. The narrow horizon bounded by convent walls symbolisedfitly enough the life she had chosen to lead: a life of artificialrestraints and renunciations, passive, conventual almost, in which eventhe central point of her love burned, now, with a calm devotional glow. 

The door in the cloister opened and the Duke crossed the garden. Hewalked slowly, with the listless step she had observed in him of late;and as he entered she saw that he looked pale and weary. 

"You have been at work again, " she said. "A cabinet-meeting?"

"Yes, " he answered, sinking into the Abbess's high carved chair. 

He glanced musingly about the dim room, in which the shadow of thecloister made an early dusk. Its atmosphere of monastic calm, of whichthe significance did not escape him, fell soothingly on his spirit. Itsimplified his relation to Fulvia by tacitly restricting it within thebounds of a tranquil tenderness. Any other setting would have seemedless in harmony with their fate. 

Better, perhaps, than Fulvia, he knew what ailed them both. Happinesshad come to them, but it had come too late; it had come tinged withdisloyalty to their early ideals; it had come when delay anddisillusionment had imperceptibly weakened the springs of passion. Forit is the saddest thing about sorrow that it deadens the capacity forhappiness; and to Fulvia and Odo the joy they had renounced had returnedwith an exile's alien face. 

Seeing that he remained silent, she rose and lit the shaded lamp on thetable. He watched her as she moved across the room. Her step had lostnone of its flowing grace, of that harmonious impetus which years agohad drawn his boyish fancy in its wake. As she bent above the lamp, thecircle of light threw her face into relief against the deepening shadowsof the room. She had changed, indeed, but as those change in whom thesprings of life are clear and abundant: it was a development rather thana diminution. The old purity of outline remained; and deep below thesurface, but still visible sometimes to his lessening insight, the oldgirlish spirit, radiant, tender and impetuous, stirred for a moment inher eyes. 

The lamplight fell on the pamphlets she had pushed aside. Odo picked oneup. "What are these?" he asked. 

"They were sent to me by the English traveller whom Andreoni broughthere. "

He turned a few pages. "The old story, " he said. "Do you never weary ofit?"

"An old story?" she exclaimed. "I thought it had been the newest in theworld. Is it not being written, chapter by chapter, before our veryeyes?"

Odo laid the treatise aside. "Are you never afraid to turn the nextpage?" he asked. 

"Afraid? Afraid of what?"

"That it may be written in blood. "

She uttered a quick exclamation; then her face hardened, and she said ina low tone: "De Crucis has been with you. "

He made the half-resigned, half-impatient gesture of the man who feelshimself drawn into a familiar argument from which there is no issue. 

"He left yesterday for Germany. "

"He was here too long!" she said, with an uncontrollable escape ofbitterness. 

Odo sighed. "If you would but let me bring him to you, you would seethat his influence over me is not what you think it. "

She was silent a moment; then she said: "You are tired tonight. Let usnot talk of these things. "

"As you please, " he answered, with an air of relief; and she rose andwent to the harpsichord. 

She played softly, with a veiled touch, gliding from one crepuscularmelody to another, till the room was filled with drifts of sound thatseemed like the voice of its own shadows. There had been times when hecould have yielded himself to this languid tide of music, letting itloosen the ties of thought till he floated out into the soothing dimnessof sensation; but now the present held him. To Fulvia, too, he knew themusic was but a forced interlude, a mechanical refuge from thought. Shehad deliberately narrowed their intercourse to one central idea; and itwas her punishment that silence had come to be merely an intensifiedexpression of this idea. 

When she turned to Odo she saw the same consciousness in his face. Itwas useless for them to talk of other things. With a pang of unreasoningregret she felt that she had become to him the embodiment of a singlethought--a formula, rather than a woman. 

"Tell me what you have been doing, " she said. 

The question was a relief. At once he began to separation of his work. All his thoughts, all his time, were given to the constitution which wasto define the powers of Church and state. The difficulties increased asthe work advanced; but the gravest difficulty was one of which he darednot tell her: his own growing distrust of the ideas for which helaboured. He was too keenly aware of the difference in their mentaloperations. With Fulvia, ideas were either rejected or at once convertedinto principles; with himself, they remained stored in the mind, servingrather as commentaries on life than as incentives to action. Thisperpetual accessibility to new impressions was a quality she could notunderstand, or could conceive of only as a weakness. Her own mind waslike a garden in which nothing is ever transplanted. She allowed for nointermediate stages between error and dogma, for no shifting of thebounds of conviction; and this security gave her the singleness ofpurpose in which he found himself more and more deficient. 

Odo remembered that he had once thought her nearness would dispel hishesitations. At first it had been so; but gradually the contact with herfixed enthusiasms had set up within him an opposing sense of the claimsignored. The element of dogmatism in her faith showed the discouragingsameness of the human mind. He perceived that to a spirit like Fulvia'sit might become possible to shed blood in the cause of tolerance. 

The rapid march of events in France had necessarily produced an oppositeeffect on minds so differently constituted. To Fulvia the year had beena year of victory, a glorious affirmation of her political creed. Stepby step she had seen, as in some old allegorical painting, error flybefore the shafts of truth. Where Odo beheld a conflagration she saw asunrise; and all that was bare and cold in her own life was warmed andtransfigured by that ineffable brightness. 

She listened patiently while he enlarged on the difficulties of thecase. The constitution was framed in all its details, but with itscompletion he felt more than ever doubtful of the wisdom of granting it. He would have welcomed any postponement that did not seem an admissionof fear. He dreaded the inevitable break with the clergy, not so muchbecause of the consequent danger to his own authority, as because he wasincreasingly conscious of the newness and clumsiness of the instrumentwith which he proposed to replace their tried and complex system. Hementioned to Fulvia the rumours of popular disaffection; but she sweptthem aside with a smile. 

"The people mistrust you, " she said. "And what does that mean? That youhave given your enemies time to work on their credulity. The longer youdelay the more opposition you will encounter. Father Ignazio wouldrather destroy the state than let it be saved by any hand but his. "

Odo reflected. "Of all my enemies, " he said, "Father Ignazio is the oneI most respect, because he is the most sincere. "

"He is the most dangerous, then, " she returned. "A fanatic is alwaysmore powerful than a knave. "

He was struck with her undiminished faith in the sufficiency of suchgeneralisations. Did she really think that to solve such a problem itwas only necessary to define it? The contact with her unfalteringassurance would once have given him a momentary glow; but now it lefthim cold. 

She was speaking more urgently. "Surely, " she said, "the noblest use aman can make of his own freedom is to set others free. My father said itwas the only justification of kingship. "

He glanced at her half-sadly. "Do you still fancy that kings are free? Iam bound hand and foot. "

"So was my father, " she flashed back at him; "but he had the Prometheanspirit. "

She coloured at her own quickness, but Odo took the thrust tranquilly. 

"Yes, " he said, "your father had the Promethean spirit: I have not. Theflesh that is daily torn from me does not grow again. "

"Your courage is as great as his, " she exclaimed, her tenderness inarms. 

"No, " he answered, "for his was hopeful. " There was a pause, and then hebegan to speak of the day's work. 

All the afternoon he had been in consultation with Crescenti, whose vasthistorical knowledge was of service in determining many disputed pointsin the tenure of land. The librarian was in sympathy with any measurestending to relieve the condition of the peasantry; yet he was almost asstrongly opposed as Trescorre to any reproduction of the Tuscanconstitution. 

"He is afraid!" broke from Fulvia. She admired and respected Crescenti, yet she had never fully trusted him. The taint of ecclesiasticism was onhim. 

Odo smiled. "He has never been afraid of facing the charge ofJansenism, " he replied. "All his life he has stood in open opposition tothe Church party. "

"It is one thing to criticise their dogmas, another to attack theirprivileges. At such a time he is bound to remember that he is apriest--that he is one of them. "

"Yet, as you have often pointed out, it is to the clergy that France ingreat measure owes her release from feudalism. "

She smiled coldly. "France would have won her cause without the clergy!"

"This is not France, then, " he said with a sigh. After a moment he beganagain: "Can you not see that any reform which aims at reducing the powerof the clergy must be more easily and successfully carried out if theycan be induced to take part in it? That, in short, we need them at thismoment as we have never needed them before? The example of France oughtat least to show you that. "

"The example of France shows me that, to gain a point in such astruggle, any means must be used! In France, as you say, the clergy werewith the people--here they are against them. Where persuasion failscoercion must be used!"

Odo smiled faintly. "You might have borrowed that from their ownarmoury, " he said. 

She coloured at the sarcasm. "Why not?" she retorted. "Let them have ataste of their own methods! They know the kind of pressure that makesmen yield--when they feel it they will know what to do. "

He looked at her with astonishment. "This is Gamba's tone, " he said. "Ihave never heard you speak in this way before. "

She coloured again; and now with a profound emotion. "Yes, " she said, "it is Gamba's tone. He and I speak for the same cause and with the samevoice. We are of the people and we speak for the people. Who are yourother counsellors? Priests and noblemen! It is natural enough that theyshould wish to make their side of the question heard. Listen to them, ifyou will--conciliate them, if you can! We need all the allies we canwin. Only do not fancy they are really speaking for the people. Do notthink it is the people's voice you hear. The people do not ask you toweigh this claim against that, to look too curiously into the defectsand merits of every clause in their charter. All they ask is that thecharter should be given them!"

She spoke with the low-voiced passion that possessed her at suchmoments. All acrimony had vanished from her tone. The expression of agreat conviction had swept aside every personal animosity, and clearedthe sources of her deepest feeling. Odo felt the pressure of heremotion. He leaned to her and their hands met. 

"It shall be given them, " he said. 

She lifted her face to his. It shone with a great light. Once before hehad seen it so illumined, but with how different a brightness! Theremembrance stirred in him some old habit of the senses. He bent overand kissed her. 

4. 7. 

Never before had Odo so keenly felt the difference between theoreticalvisions of liberty and their practical application. His deepestheart-searchings showed him as sincerely devoted as ever to the causewhich had enlisted his youth. He still longed above all things to servehis fellows; but the conditions of such service were not what he haddreamed. How different a calling it had been in Saint Francis's day, when hearts inflamed with the new sense of brotherhood had but to setforth on their simple mission of almsgiving and admonition! To loveone's neighbour had become a much more complex business, one that taxedthe intelligence as much as the heart, and in the course of whichfeeling must be held in firm subjection to reason. He was discouraged byFulvia's inability to understand the change. Hers was the missionaryspirit; and he could not but reflect how much happier she would havebeen as a nun in a charitable order, a unit in some organised system ofbeneficence. 

He too would have been happier to serve than to command! But it is notgiven to the lovers of the Lady Poverty to choose their special rank inher household. Don Gervaso's words came back to him with deepeningsignificance, and he thought how truly the old chaplain's prayer hadbeen fulfilled. Honour and power had come to him, and they had abasedhim to the dust. The "Humilitas" of his fathers, woven, carved andpainted on every side, pursued him with an ironical reminder of hisimpotence. 

Fulvia had not been mistaken in attributing his depression of spirit tode Crucis's visit. It was the first time that de Crucis had returned toPianura since the new Duke's accession. Odo had welcomed him eagerly, had again pressed him to remain; but de Crucis was on his way toGermany, bound on some business which could not be deferred. Odo, awareof the renewed activity of the Jesuits, supposed that this business wasconnected with the flight of the French refugees, many of whom were goneto Coblentz; but on this point the abate was silent. Of the state ofaffairs in France he spoke openly and despondently. The immoderate hastewith which the reforms had been granted filled him with fears for thefuture. Odo knew that Crescenti shared these fears, and the judgment ofthese two men, with whom he differed on fundamental principles, weighedwith him far more than the opinions of the party he was supposed torepresent. But he was in the case of many greater sovereigns of his day. He had set free the waters of reform, and the frail bark of hisauthority had been torn from its moorings and swept headlong into thecentral current. 

The next morning, to his surprise, the Duchess sent one of her gentlemento ask an audience. Odo at once replied that he would wait on herHighness; and a few moments later he was ushered into his wife's closet. 

She had just left her toilet, and was still in the morning negligee wornduring that prolonged and public ceremonial. Freshly perfumed andpowdered, her eyes bright, her lips set in a nervous smile, shecuriously recalled the arrogant child who had snatched her spaniel awayfrom him years ago in that same room. And was she not that child, afterall? Had she ever grown beyond the imperious instincts of her youth? Itseemed to him now that he had judged her harshly in the first months oftheir marriage. He had felt a momentary impatience when he had tried toforce her roving impulses into the line of his own endeavour: it waseasier to view her leniently now that she had almost passed out of hislife. 

He wondered why she had sent for him. Some dispute with her household, doubtless; a quarrel with a servant, even--or perhaps some sordiddifficulty with her creditors. But she began in a new key. 

"Your Highness, " she said, "is not given to taking my advice. "

Odo looked at her in surprise. "The opportunity is not often accordedme, " he replied with a smile. 

Maria Clementina made an impatient gesture; then her face softened. Contradictory emotions flitted over it like the reflections cast by ahurrying sky. She came close to him and then drew away and seatedherself in the high-backed chair where she had throned when he first sawher. Suddenly she blushed and began to speak. 

"Once, " she said in a low, almost inaudible voice, "I was able to giveyour Highness warning of an impending danger--" She paused and her eyesrested full on Odo. 

He felt his colour rise as he returned her gaze. It was her firstallusion to the past. He had supposed she had forgotten. For a moment heremained awkwardly silent. 

"Do you remember?" she asked. 

"I remember. "

"The danger was a grave one. Your Highness may recall that but for mywarning you would not have been advised of it. "

"I remember, " he said again. 

She paused a moment. "The danger, " she repeated, "was a grave one; butit threatened only your Highness's person. Your Highness listened to methen; will you listen again if I advise you of a greater--a perilthreatening not only your person but your throne?"

Odo smiled. He could guess now what was coming. She had been drilled toact as the mouthpiece of the opposition. He composed his features andsaid quietly: "These are grave words, madam. I know of no suchperil--but I am always ready to listen to your Highness. "

His smile had betrayed him, and a quick flame of anger passed over herface. 

"Why should you listen to me, since you never heed what I say?"

"Your Highness has just reminded me that I did so once--"

"Once!" she repeated bitterly. "You were younger then--and so was I!"She glanced at herself in the mirror with a dissatisfied laugh. Something in her look and movement touched the springs of compassion. 

"Try me again, " he said gently. "If I am older, perhaps I am also wiser, and therefore even more willing to be guided--we all knew that. " Shebroke off, as though she felt her mistake and wished to make a freshbeginning. Again her face was full of fluctuating meaning; and he saw, beneath its shallow surface, the eddy of incoherent impulses. When shespoke, it was with a noble gravity. 

"Your Highness, " she said, "does not take me into your counsels; but itis no secret at court and in the town that you have in contemplation agrave political measure. "

"I have made no secret of it, " he replied. 

"No--or I should be the last to know it!" she exclaimed, with one of hersudden lapses into petulance. 

Odo made no reply. Her futility was beginning to weary him. She saw itand again attempted an impersonal dignity of manner. 

"It has been your Highness's choice, " she said, "to exclude me frompublic affairs. Perhaps I was not fitted by education or intelligence toshare in the cares of government. Your Highness will at least bearwitness that I have scrupulously respected your decision, and have neverattempted to intrude upon your counsels. "

Odo bowed. It would have been useless to remind her that he had soughther help and failed to obtain it. 

"I have accepted my position, " she continued. "I have led the life towhich it has pleased your Highness to restrict me. But I have not beenable to detach my heart as well as my thoughts from your Highness'sinterests. I have not learned to be indifferent to your danger. "

Odo looked up quickly. She ceased to interest him when she spoke by thebook, and he was impatient to make an end. 

"You spoke of danger before, " he said. "What danger?"

"That of forcing on your subjects liberties which they do not desire!"

"Ah, " said he thoughtfully. That was all, then. What a poor tool shemade! He marvelled that, in all these years, Trescorre's skilful handsshould not have fashioned her to better purpose. 

"Your Highness, " he said, "has reminded me that since our marriage youhad lived withdrawn from public affairs. I will not pause to dispute bywhose choice this has been; I will in turn merely remind your Highnessthat such a life does not afford much opportunity of gauging publicopinion. "

In spite of himself a note of sarcasm had again crept into his voice;but to his surprise she did not seem to resent it. 

"Ah, " she exclaimed, with more feeling than she had hitherto shown, "youfancy that, because I am kept in ignorance of what you think, I amignorant also of what others think of you! Believe me, " she said, with aflash of insight that startled him, "I know more of you than if we stoodcloser. But you mistake my purpose. I have not sent for you to force mycounsels on you. I have no desire to appear ridiculous. I do not ask youto hear what _I_ think of your course, but what others think of it. "

"What others?"

The question did not disconcert her. "Your subjects, " she said quickly. 

"My subjects are of many classes. "

"All are of one class in resenting this charter. I am told you intend toproclaim it within a few days. I entreat you at least to delay, toreconsider your course. Oh, believe me when I say you are in danger! Ofwhat use to offer a crown to our Lady, when you have it in your heart toslight her servants? But I will not speak of the clergy, since youdespise them--nor of the nobles, since you ignore their claims. I willspeak only of the people--the people, in whose interest you profess toact. Believe me, in striking at the Church you wound the poor. It is nottheir bodily welfare I mean--though Heaven knows how many sources ofbounty must now run dry! It is their faith you insult. First you turnthem against their masters, then against their God. They may acclaim youfor it now--but I tell you they will hate you for it in the end!"

She paused, flushed with the vehemence of her argument, and eager topress it farther. But her last words had touched an unexpected fibre inOdo. He looked at her with his unseeing visionary gaze. 

"The end?" he murmured. "Who knows what the end will be?"

"Do you still need to be told?" she exclaimed. "Must you always come tome to learn that you are in danger?"

"If the state is in danger the danger must be faced. The state existsfor the people; if they do not need it, it has ceased to serve itspurpose. "

She clasped her hands in an ecstasy of wonder. "Oh, fool, madman--but itis not of the state I speak! It is you who are indanger--you--you--you--"

He raised his head with an impatient gesture. 

"I?" he said. "I had thought you meant a graver peril. "

She looked at him in silence. Her pride met his and thrilled with it;and for a moment the two were one. 

"Odo!" she cried. She sank into a chair, and he went to her and took herhand. 

"Such fears are worthy neither of us, " he said gravely. 

"I am not ashamed of them, " she said. Her hand clung to him and shelifted her eyes to his face. "You will listen to me?" she whispered in aglow. 

He drew back chilled. If only she had kept the feminine in abeyance! Butsex was her only weapon. 

"I have listened, " he said quietly. "And I thank you. "

"But you will not be counselled?"

"In the last issue one must be one's own counsellor. "

Her face flamed. "If you were but that!" she tossed back at him. 

The taunt struck him full. He knew that he should have let it lie; buthe caught it up in spite of himself. 

"Madam!" he said. 

"I should have appealed to our sovereign, not to her servant!" shecried, dashing into the breach she had made. 

He stood motionless, stunned almost. For what she had said was true. Hewas no longer the sovereign: the rule had passed out of his hands. 

His silence frightened her. With an instinctive jealousy she saw thather words had started a train of thought in which she had no part. Shefelt herself ignored, abandoned; and all her passions rushed to thedefence of her wounded vanity. 

"Oh, believe me, " she cried, "I speak as your Duchess, not as your wife. That is a name in which I should never dream of appealing to you. I haveever stood apart from your private pleasures, as became a woman of myhouse. " She faced him with a flash of the Austrian insolence. "But whenI see the state drifting to ruin as the result of your caprice, when Isee your own life endangered, your people turned against you, religionopenly insulted, law and authority made the plaything ofthis--this--false atheistical creature, that has robbed me--robbed me ofall--" She broke off helplessly and hid her face with a sob. 

Odo stood speechless, spell-bound. He could not mistake what hadhappened. The woman had surged to the surface at last--the real woman, passionate, self-centred, undisciplined, but so piteous, after all, inthis sudden subjection to the one tenderness that survived in her. Sheloved him and was jealous of her rival. That was the instinct which hadswept all others aside. At that moment she cared nothing for her safetyor his. The state might perish if they but fell together. It was thedistance between them that maddened her. 

The tragic simplicity of the revelation left Odo silent. For a fantasticmoment he yielded to the vision of what that waste power might haveaccomplished. Life seemed to him a confusion of roving force that metonly to crash in ruins. 

His silence drew her to her feet. She repossessed herself, throbbing butvaliant. 

"My fears for your Highness's safety have led my speech astray. I havegiven your Highness the warning it was my duty to give. Beyond that Ihad no thought of trespassing. "

And still Odo was silent. A dozen answers struggled to his lips; butthey were checked by the stealing sense of duality that so oftenparalysed his action. He had recovered his lucidity of vision, and hisimpulses faded before it like mist. He saw life again as it was, anincomplete and shabby business, a patchwork of torn and ravelled effort. Everywhere the shears of Atropos were busy, and never could the cutthreads be joined again. 

He took his wife's hand and bent over it ceremoniously. It lay in hislike a stone. 

4. 8. 

The jubilee of the Mountain Madonna fell on the feast of thePurification. It was mid-November, but with a sky of June. The autumnrains had ceased for the moment, and fields and orchards glistened witha late verdure. 

Never had the faithful gathered in such numbers to do honour to thewonder-working Virgin. A widespread resistance to the influences of freethought and Jansenism was pouring fresh life into the old formulas ofdevotion. Though many motives combined to strengthen this movement, itwas still mainly a simple expression of loyalty to old ideals, aninstinctive rallying around a threatened cause. It is the honestconviction underlying all great popular impulses that gives them theirreal strength; and in this case the thousands of pilgrims flocking onfoot to the mountain shrine embodied a greater moral force than thepowerful ecclesiastics at whose call they had gathered. 

The clergy themselves were come from all sides; while those that wereunable to attend had sent costly gifts to the miraculous Virgin. TheBishops of Mantua, Modena, Vercelli and Cremona had travelled to Pianurain state, the people flocking out beyond the gates to welcome them. Fourmitred Abbots, several Monsignori, and Priors, Rectors, Vicars-generaland canons innumerable rode in the procession, followed on foot by thehumble army of parish priests and by interminable confraternities of allorders. 

The approach of the great dignitaries was hailed with enthusiasm by thecrowds lining the roads. Even the Bishop of Pianura, never popular withthe people, received an unwonted measure of applause, and thewhite-cowled Prior of the Dominicans, riding by stern and close-lippedas a monk of Zurbaran's, was greeted with frenzied acclamations. Thereport that the Bishop and the heads of the religious houses in Pianurawere to set free suppers for the pilgrims had doubtless quickened thisoutburst of piety; yet it was perhaps chiefly due to the sense of comingperil that had gradually permeated the dim consciousness of the crowd. 

In the church, the glow of lights, the thrilling beauty of the music andthe glitter of the priestly vestments were blent in a melting harmony ofsound and colour. The shrine of the Madonna shone with unearthlyradiance. Hundreds of candles formed an elongated nimbus about herhieratic figure, which was surmounted by the canopy of cloth-of-goldpresented by the Duke of Modena. The Bishops of Vercelli and Cremona hadoffered a robe of silver brocade studded with coral and turquoises, thedevout Princess Clotilda of Savoy an emerald necklace, the Bishop ofPianura a marvellous veil of rose-point made in a Flemish convent; whileon the statue's brow rested the Duke's jewelled diadem. 

The Duke himself, seated in his tribune above the choir, observed thescene with a renewed appreciation of the Church's unfailing dramaticinstinct. At first he saw in the spectacle only this outer and symbolicside, of which the mere sensuous beauty had always deeply moved him; butas he watched the effect produced on the great throng filling theaisles, he began to see that this external splendour was but the veilbefore the sanctuary, and to realise what de Crucis meant when he spokeof the deep hold of the Church upon the people. Every colour, everygesture, every word and note of music that made up the texture of thegorgeous ceremonial might indeed seem part of a long-studied andastutely-planned effect. Yet each had its root in some instinct of theheart, some natural development of the inner life, so that they were infact not the cunningly-adjusted fragments of an arbitrary pattern butthe inseparable fibres of a living organism. It was Odo's misfortune tosee too far ahead on the road along which his destiny was urging him. Ashe sat there, face to face with the people he was trying to lead, heheard above the music of the mass and the chant of the kneeling throngan echo of the question that Don Gervaso had once put to him:--"If youtake Christ from the people, what have you to give them instead?"

He was roused by a burst of silver clarions. The mass was over, and theDuke and Duchess were to descend from their tribune and venerate theholy image before it was carried through the church. 

Odo rose and gave his hand to his wife. They had not seen each other, save in public, since their last conversation in her closet. The Duchesswalked with set lips and head erect, keeping her profile turned to himas they descended the steps and advanced to the choir. None knew betterhow to take her part in such a pageant. She had the gift of drawing uponherself the undivided attention of any assemblage in which she moved;and the consciousness of this power lent a kind of Olympian buoyancy toher gait. The richness of her dress and her extravagant display ofjewels seemed almost a challenge to the sacred image blazing like arainbow beneath its golden canopy; and Odo smiled to think that hischildish fancy had once compared the brilliant being at his side to thehumble tinsel-decked Virgin of the church at Pontesordo. 

As the couple advanced, stillness fell on the church. The air was fullof the lingering haze of incense, through which the sunlight from theclerestory poured in prismatic splendours on the statue of the Virgin. Rigid, superhuman, a molten flamboyancy of gold and gems, thewonder-working Madonna shone out above her worshippers. The Duke andDuchess paused, bowing deeply, below the choir. Then they mounted thesteps and knelt before the shrine. As they did so a crash broke thesilence, and the startled devotees saw that the ducal diadem had fallenfrom the Madonna's head. 

The hush prolonged itself a moment; then a canon sprang forward to pickup the crown, and with the movement a murmur rose and spread through thechurch. The Duke's offering had fallen to the ground as he approached tovenerate the blessed image. That this was an omen no man could doubt. Itneeded no augur to interpret it. The murmur, gathering force as it sweptthrough the packed aisles, passed from surprise to fear, from fear to adeep hum of anger;--for the people understood, as plainly as though shehad spoken, that the Virgin of the Valseccas had cast from her the giftof an unbeliever... 

 * * * * *

The ceremonies over, the long procession was formed again and set outtoward the city. The crowd had surged ahead, and when the Duke rodethrough the gates the streets were already thronged. Moving slowlybetween the compact mass of people he felt himself as closely observedas on the day of his state entry; but with far different effect. Enthusiasm had given way to a cold curiosity. The excitement of thespectators had spent itself in the morning, and the sight of theirsovereign failed to rouse their flagging ardour. Now and then a cheerbroke out, but it died again without kindling another in theuninflammable mass. Odo could not tell how much of this indifference wasdue to a natural reaction from the emotions of the morning, how much tohis personal unpopularity, how much to the ominous impression producedby the falling of the Virgin's crown. He rode between his peopleoppressed by a sense of estrangement such as he had never known. He felthimself shut off from them by an impassable barrier of superstition andignorance; and every effort to reach them was like the wrong turn in alabyrinth, drawing him farther away from the issue to which it seemed tolead. 

As he advanced under this indifferent or hostile scrutiny, he thoughthow much easier it would be to face a rain of bullets than thiswithering glare of criticism. A sudden longing to escape, to be donewith it all, came over him with sickening force. His nerves ached withthe physical strain of holding himself upright on his horse, ofpreserving the statuesque erectness proper to the occasion. He felt likeone of his own ancestral effigies, of which the wooden framework hadrotted under the splendid robes. A congestion at the head of a narrowstreet had checked the procession, and he was obliged to rein in hishorse. He looked about and found himself in the centre of the squarenear the Baptistery. A few feet off, directly in a line with him, wasthe weather-worn front of the Royal Printing-Press. He raised his headand saw a group of people on the balcony. Though they were close athand, he saw them in a blur, against which Fulvia's figure suddenlydetached itself. She had told him that she was to view the processionwith the Andreonis; but through the mental haze which enveloped him herapparition struck a vague surprise. He looked at her intently, and theireyes met. A faint happiness stole over her face, but no recognition waspossible, and she continued to gaze out steadily upon the throng belowthe balcony. Involuntarily his glance followed hers, and he saw that shewas herself the centre of the crowd's attention. Her plain, almostQuakerish habit, and the tranquil dignity of her carriage, made her aconspicuous figure among the animated groups in the adjoining windows, and Odo, with the acuteness of perception which a public life develops, was instantly aware that her name was on every lip. At the same momenthe saw a woman close to his horse's feet snatch up her child and makethe sign against the evil eye. A boy who stood staring open-mouthed atFulvia caught the gesture and repeated it; a barefoot friar imitated theboy, and it seemed to Odo that the familiar sign was spreading withmalignant rapidity to the furthest limits of the crowd. The impressionwas only momentary; for the cavalcade was again in motion, and withoutraising his eyes he rode on, sick at heart... 

 * * * * *

At nightfall a man opened the gate of the ducal gardens below theChinese pavilion and stepped out into the deserted lane. He locked thegate and slipped the key into his pocket; then he turned and walkedtoward the centre of the town. As he reached the more populous quartershis walk slackened to a stroll; and now and then he paused to observe aknot of merry-makers or look through the curtains of the tents set up inthe squares. 

The man was plainly but decently dressed, like a petty tradesman or alawyer's clerk, and the night being chill he wore a cloak, and had drawnhis hat-brim over his forehead. He sauntered on, letting the crowd carryhim, with the air of one who has an hour to kill, and whoseholiday-making takes the form of an amused spectatorship. To such anobserver the streets offered ample entertainment. The shrewd airdiscouraged lounging and kept the crowd in motion; but the openplatforms built for dancing were thronged with couples, and everypeep-show, wine-shop and astrologer's booth was packed to the doors. Theshrines and street-lamps being all alight, and booths and platforms hungwith countless lanterns, the scene was as bright as day; but in theever-shifting medley of peasant-dresses, liveries, monkish cowls andcarnival disguises, a soberly-clad man might easily go unremarked. 

Reaching the square before the Cathedral, the solitary observer pushedhis way through the idlers gathered about a dais with a curtain at theback. Before the curtain stood a Milanese quack, dressed like a noblegentleman, with sword and plumed hat, and rehearsing his cures instentorian tones, while his zany, in the short mask and green-and-whitehabit of Brighella, cracked jokes and turned hand-springs for thediversion of the vulgar. 

"Behold, " the charlatan was shouting, "the marvellous Egyptianlove-philter distilled from the pearl that the great Emperor Antonydropped into Queen Cleopatra's cup. This infallible fluid, handed downfor generations in the family of my ancestor, the High Priest of Isis--"The bray of a neighbouring show-man's trumpet cut him short, andyielding to circumstances he drew back the curtain, and a tumbling-girlsprang out and began her antics on the front of the stage. 

"What did he say was the price of that drink, Giannina?" asked a youngmaid-servant pulling her neighbour's sleeve. 

"Are you thinking of buying it for Pietrino, my beauty?" the otherreturned with a laugh. "Believe me, it is a sound proverb that says:When the fruit is ripe it falls of itself. "

The girl drew away angrily, and the quack took up his harangue:--"Thesame philter, ladies and gentlemen--though in confessing it I betray aprofessional secret--the same philter, I declare to you on the honour ofa nobleman, whereby, in your own city, a lady no longer young and no wayremarkable in looks or station, has captured and subjugated theaffections of one so high, so exalted, so above all others in beauty, rank, wealth, power and dignities--"

"Oh, oh, that's the Duke!" sniggered a voice in the crowd. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, I name no names!" cried the quack impressively. 

"No need to, " retorted the voice. 

"They do say, though, she gave him something to drink, " said a youngwoman to a youth in a clerk's dress. "The saying is she studied medicinewith the Turks. "

"The Moors, you mean, " said the clerk with an air of superiority. 

"Well, they say her mother was a Turkey slave and her father a murdererfrom the Sultan's galleys. "

"No, no, she's plain Piedmontese, I tell you. Her father was a physicianin Turin, and was driven out of the country for poisoning his patientsin order to watch their death-agonies. "

"They say she's good to the poor, though, " said another voicedoubtfully. 

"Good to the poor? Ay, that's what they said of her father. All I knowis that she heard Stefano the weaver's lad had the falling sickness, andshe carried him a potion with her own hands, and the next day the childwas dead, and a Carmelite friar, who saw the phial he drank from, saidit was the same shape and size as one that was found in a witch's gravewhen they were digging the foundations for the new monastery. "

"Ladies and gentlemen, " shrieked the quack, "what am I offered for adrop of this priceless liquor?"

The listener turned aside and pushed his way toward the farther end ofthe square. As he did so he ran against a merry-andrew who thrust a longprinted sheet in his hand. 

"Buy my satirical ballads, ladies and gentlemen!" the fellow shouted. "Two for a farthing, invented and written by an own cousin of the greatPasquino of Rome! What will you have, sir? Here's the secret history ofa famous Prince's amours with an atheist--here's the true scandal of anillustrious lady's necklace--two for a farthing... And my humblest thanksto your excellency. " He pocketed the coin, and the other, thrusting thebroadsheets beneath his cloak, pushed on to the nearest coffee-house. 

Here every table was thronged, and the babble of talk so loud that thestranger, hopeless of obtaining refreshment, pressed his way into theremotest corner of the room and seated himself on an empty cask. Atfirst he sat motionless, silently observing the crowd; then he drewforth the ballads and ran his eye over them. He was still engaged inthis study when his notice was attracted by a loud discussion goingforward between a party of men at the nearest table. The disputants, petty tradesman or artisans by their dress, had evidently been warmed bya good flagon of wine, and their tones were so lively that every wordreached the listener on the cask. 

"Reform, reform!" cried one, who appeared by his dress and manner to bethe weightiest of the company--"it's all very well to cry reform; butwhat I say is that most of those that are howling for it no more knowwhat they're asking than a parrot that's been taught the litany. Now thefirst question is: who benefits by your reform? And what's the answer tothat, eh? Is it the tradesmen? The merchants? The clerks, artisans, household servants, I ask you? I hear some of my fellow-tradesmencomplaining that the nobility don't pay their bills. Will they be betterpaid, think you, when the Duke has halved their revenues? Will thequality keep up as large households, employ as many lacqueys, set aslavish tables, wear as fine clothes, collect as many rarities, buy asmany horses, give us, in short, as many opportunities of making ourprofit out of their pleasure? What I say is, if we're to have new taxes, don't let them fall on the very class we live by!"

"That's true enough, " said another speaker, a lean bilious man with apen behind his ear. "The peasantry are the only class that are going toprofit by this constitution. "

"And what do the peasantry do for us, I should like to know?" the firstspeaker went on triumphantly. "As far as the fat friars go, I'm notsorry to see them squeezed a trifle, for they've wrung enough money outof our women-folk to lie between feathers from now till doomsday; but Isay, if you care for your pockets, don't lay hands on the nobility!"

"Gently, gently, my friend, " exclaimed a cautious flaccid-looking mansetting down his glass. "Father and son, for four generations, my familyhave served Pianura with Church candles, and I can tell you that sincethese new atheistical notions came in, the nobility are not the goodpatrons they used to be. But as for the friars, I should be sorry to seethem meddled with. It's true they may get the best morsel in the pot andthe warmest seat on the hearth--and one of them, now and then, may taketoo long to teach a pretty girl her Pater Noster--but I'm not sure weshall be better off when they're gone. Formerly, if a child too manycame to poor folk they could always comfort themselves with the thoughtthat, if there was no room for him at home, the Church was there toprovide for him. But if we drive out the good friars, a man will have tocount mouths before he dares look at his wife too lovingly. "

"Well, " said the scribe with a dry smile, "I've a notion the good friarshave always taken more than they gave; and if it were not for the gapingmouths under the cowl even a poor man might have victuals enough for hisown. "

The first speaker turned on him contentiously. 

"Do I understand you are for this new charter, then?" he asked. 

"No, no, " said the other. "Better hot polenta than a cold ortolan. Things are none too good as they are, but I never care to taste first ofa new dish. And in this case I don't fancy the cook. "

"Ah, that's it, " said the soft man. "It's too much like the apothecary'swife mixing his drugs for him. Men of Roman lineage want no women togovern them!" He puffed himself out and thrust a hand in his bosom. "Besides, gentlemen, " he added, dropping his voice and glancingcautiously about the room, "the saints are my witness I'm notsuperstitious--but frankly, now, I don't much fancy this business of theVirgin's crown. "

"What do you mean?" asked a lean visionary-looking youth who had beendrinking and listening. 

"Why, sir, I needn't say I'm the last man in Pianura to listen towomen's tattle; but my wife had it straight from Cino the barber, whosesister is portress of the Benedictines, that, two days since, one of thenuns foretold the whole business, precisely as it happened--and what'smore, many that were in the Church this morning will tell you that theydistinctly saw the blessed image raise both arms and tear the crown fromher head. "

"H'm, " said the young man flippantly, "what became of the Bambinomeanwhile, I wonder?"

The scribe shrugged his shoulders. "We all know, " said he, "that Cinothe barber lies like a christened Jew; but I'm not surprised the thingwas known in advance, for I make no doubt the priests pulled the wiresthat brought down the crown. "

The fat man looked scandalised, and the first speaker waved the subjectaside as unworthy of attention. 

"Such tales are for women and monks, " he said impatiently. "But thebusiness has its serious side. I tell you we are being hurried to ourruin. Here's this matter of draining the marshes at Pontesordo. Who's topay for that? The class that profits by it? Not by a long way. It's wewho drain the land, and the peasants are to live on it. "

The visionary youth tossed back his hair. "But isn't that an inspirationto you, sir?" he exclaimed. "Does not your heart dilate at the thoughtof uplifting the condition of your down-trodden fellows?"

"My fellows? The peasantry my fellows?" cried the other. "I'd have youknow, my young master, that I come of a long and honourable line ofcloth-merchants, that have had their names on the Guild for two hundredyears and over. I've nothing to do with the peasantry, thank God!"

The youth had emptied another glass. "What?" he screamed. "You deny theuniversal kinship of man? You disown your starving brothers? Proudtyrant, remember the Bastille!" He burst into tears and began to quoteAlfieri. 

"Well, " said the fat man, turning a disgusted shoulder on this displayof emotion, "to my mind this business of draining Pontesordo is too muchlike telling the Almighty what to do. If God made the land wet, whatright have we to dry it? Those that begin by meddling with the Creator'sworks may end by laying hands on the Creator. "

"You're right, " said another. "There's no knowing where thesenew-fangled notions may land us. For my part, I was rather taken by themat first; but since I find that his Highness, to pay for all his goodworks, is cutting down his household and throwing decent people out of ajob--like my own son, for instance, that was one of the under-steward'sboys at the palace--why, since then, I begin to see a little fartherinto the game. "

A shabby shrewd-looking fellow in a dirty coat and snuff-stained stockhad sauntered up to the table and stood listening with an amused smile. 

"Ah, " said the scribe, glancing up, "here's a thoroughgoing reformer, who'll be asking us all to throw up our hats for the new charter. "

The new-comer laughed contemptuously. "I?" he said. "God forbid! The newcharter's none of my making. It's only another dodge for getting roundthe populace--for appearing to give them what they would rise up andtake if it were denied them any longer. "

"Why, I thought you were hot for these reforms?" exclaimed the fat manwith surprise. 

The other shrugged. "You might as well say I was in favour of having thesun rise tomorrow. It would probably rise at the same hour if I votedagainst it. Reform is bound to come, whether your Dukes and Princes arefor it or against it; and those that grant constitutions instead ofrefusing them are like men who tie a string to their hats before goingout in a gale. The string may hold for a while--but if it blows hardenough the hats will all come off in the end. "

"Ay, ay; and meanwhile we furnish the string from our own pockets, " saidthe scribe with a chuckle. 

The shabby man grinned. "It won't be the last thing to come out of yourpockets, " said he, turning to push his way toward another table. 

The others rose and called for their reckoning; and the listener on thecask slipped out of his corner, elbowed a passage to the door andstepped forth into the square. 

It was after midnight, a thin drizzle was falling, and the crowd hadscattered. The rain was beginning to extinguish the paper lanterns andthe torches, and the canvas sides of the tents flapped dismally, likewet sheets on a clothes-line. The man drew his cloak closer, andavoiding the stragglers who crossed his path, turned into the firststreet that led to the palace. He walked fast over the slipperycobble-stones, buffeted by a rising wind and threading his way betweendark walls and sleeping house-fronts till he reached the lane below theducal gardens. He unlocked the door by which he had come forth, enteredthe gardens, and paused a moment on the terrace above the lane. 

Behind him rose the palace, a dark irregular bulk, with a lighted windowshowing here and there. Before him lay the city, an indistinguishablehuddle of roofs and towers under the rainy night. He stood awhile gazingout over it; then he turned and walked toward the palace. The gardenalleys were deserted, the pleached walks dark as subterranean passages, with the wet gleam of statues starting spectrally out of the blackness. The man walked rapidly, leaving the Borromini wing on his left, andskirting the outstanding mass of the older buildings. Behind the marblebuttresses of the chapel, he crossed the dense obscurity of a courtbetween high walls, found a door under an archway, turned a key in thelock, and gained a spiral stairway as dark as the court. He groped hisway up the stairs and paused a moment on the landing to listen. Then heopened another door, lifted a heavy hanging of tapestry, and steppedinto the Duke's closet. It stood empty, with a lamp burning low on thedesk. 

The man threw off his cloak and hat, dropped into a chair beside thedesk, and hid his face in his hands. 

4. 9. 

It was the eve of the Duke's birthday. A cabinet council had been calledin the morning, and his Highness's ministers had submitted to him therevised draft of the constitution which was to be proclaimed on themorrow. 

Throughout the conference, which was brief and formal, Odo had beenconscious of a subtle change in the ministerial atmosphere. Instead ofthe current of resistance against which he had grown used to forcing hisway, he became aware of a tacit yielding to his will. Trescorre hadapparently withdrawn his opposition to the charter, and the otherministers had followed suit. To Odo's overwrought imagination there wassomething ominous in the change. He had counted on the goad ofopposition to fight off the fatal languor which he had learned to expectat such crises. Now that he found there was to be no struggle heunderstood how largely his zeal had of late depended on such factitiousincentives. He felt an irrational longing to throw himself on the otherside of the conflict, to tear in bits the paper awaiting his signature, and disown the policy which had dictated it. But the tide ofacquiescence on which he was afloat was no stagnant back-water ofindifference, but the glassy reach just above the fall of a river. Thecurrent was as swift as it was smooth, and he felt himself hurriedforward to an end he could no longer escape. He took the pen whichTrescorre handed him, and signed the constitution. 

The meeting over, he summoned Gamba. He felt the need of suchencouragement as the hunchback alone could give. Fulvia's enthusiasmswere too unreal, too abstract. She lived in a region of ideals, whenceugly facts were swept out by some process of mental housewifery whichkept her world perpetually smiling and immaculate. Gamba at least fedhis convictions on facts. If his outlook was narrow it was direct: noroseate medium of fancy was interposed between his vision and the truth. 

He stood listening thoughtfully while Odo poured forth his doubts. 

"Your Highness may well hesitate, " he said at last. "There are alwaysmore good reasons against a new state of things than for it. I am notsurprised that Count Trescorre appears to have withdrawn his opposition. I believe he now honestly wishes your Highness to proclaim theconstitution. "

Odo looked up in surprise. "You do not mean that he has come to believein it?"

Gamba smiled. "Probably not in your Highness's sense; but he may havefound a use of his own for it. "

"What do you mean?" Odo asked. 

"If he does not believe it will benefit the state he may think it willinjure your Highness. "

"Ah--" said the Duke slowly. 

There was a pause, during which he was possessed by the same shudderingreluctance to fix his mind on the facts before him as when he hadquestioned the hunchback about Momola's death. He longed to cast thewhole business aside, to be up and away from it, drawing breath in a newworld where every air was not tainted with corruption. He raised hishead with an effort. 

"You think, then, that the liberals are secretly acting against me inthis matter?"

"I am persuaded of it, your Highness. "

Odo hesitated. "You have always told me, " he began again, "that the loveof dominion was your brother's ruling passion. If he really believesthis movement will be popular with the people, why should he secretlyoppose it, instead of making the most of his own share in it as theminister of a popular sovereign?"

"For several reasons, " Gamba answered promptly. "In the first place, thereforms your Highness has introduced are not of his own choosing, andTrescorre has little sympathy with any policy he has not dictated. Inthe second place, the powers and opportunities of a constitutionalminister are too restricted to satisfy his appetite for rule; andthirdly--" he paused a moment, as though doubtful how his words would bereceived--"I suspect Trescorre of having a private score against yourHighness, which he would be glad to pay off publicly. "

Odo fell silent, yielding himself to a fresh current of thought. 

"I know not what score he may have against me, " he said at length; "butwhat injures me must injure the state, and if Trescorre has any suchmotive for withdrawing his opposition, it must be because he believesthe constitution will defeat its own ends. "

"He does believe that, assuredly; but he is not the only one of yourHighness's ministers that would ruin the state on the chance of findingan opportunity among the ruins. "

"That is as it may be, " said Odo with a touch of weariness. "I have seenenough of human ambition to learn how limited and unimaginative apassion it is. If it saw farther I should fear it more. But if it isshort-sighted it sees clearly at close range; and the motive you ascribeto Trescorre would imply that he believes the constitution will be afailure. "

"Without doubt, your Highness. I am convinced that your ministers havedone all they could to prevent the proclamation of the charter, andfailing that, to thwart its workings if it be proclaimed. In this theyhave gone hand in hand with the clergy, and their measures have beenwell taken. But I do not believe that any state of mind produced byexternal influences can long withstand the natural drift of opinion; andyour Highness may be sure that, though the talkers and writers aremostly against you in this matter, the mass of the people are with you. "

Odo answered with a despairing gesture. "How can I be sure, when thepeople have no means of expressing their needs? It is like trying toguess the wants of a deaf and dumb man!"

The hunchback flushed suddenly. "The people will not always be deaf anddumb, " he said. "Some day they will speak. "

"Not in my day, " said Odo wearily. "And meanwhile we blunder on, withoutever really knowing what incalculable instincts and prejudices arepitted against us. You and your party tell me the people are sick of theburdens the clergy lay on them--yet their blind devotion to the Churchis manifest at every turn, and it did not need the business of theVirgin's crown to show me how little reason and justice can availagainst such influences. "

Gamba replied by an impatient gesture. "As to the Virgin's crown, " hesaid, "your Highness must have guessed it was one of the friars' tricks:a last expedient to turn the people against you. I was not bred up by apriest for nothing; I know what past masters those gentry are in raisingghosts and reading portents. They know the minds of the poor folk as theherdsman knows the habits of his cattle; and for generations they haveused that knowledge to bring the people more completely under theircontrol. "

"And what have we to oppose to such a power?" Odo exclaimed. "We arefighting the battle of ideas against passions, of reflection againstinstinct; and you have but to look in the human heart to guess whichside will win in such a struggle. We have science and truth andcommon-sense with us, you say--yes, but the Church has love and fear andtradition, and the solidarity of nigh two thousand years of dominion. "

Gamba listened in respectful silence; then he replied with a faintsmile: "All that your Highness says is true; but I beg leave to relateto your Highness a tale which I read lately in an old book of yourlibrary. According to this story it appears that when the earlyChristians of Alexandria set out to destroy the pagan idols in thetemples they were seized with great dread at sight of the god Serapis;for even those that did not believe in the old gods feared them, andnone dared raise a hand against the sacred image. But suddenly a soldierwho was bolder than the rest flung his battle-axe at the figure--andwhen it broke in pieces, there rushed out nothing worse than a greatcompany of rats. "... 

 * * * * *

The Duke had promised to visit Fulvia that evening. For several days hisstate of indecision had made him find pretexts for avoiding her; but nowthat the charter was signed and he had ordered its proclamation, hecraved the contact of her unwavering faith. 

He found her alone in the dusk of the convent parlour; but he had hardlycrossed the threshold before he was aware of an indefinable change inhis surroundings. She advanced with an impulsiveness out of harmony withthe usual tranquillity of their meetings, and he felt her hand trembleand burn in his. In the twilight it seemed to him that her very dresshad a warmer rustle and glimmer, that there emanated from her glance andmovements some heady fragrance of a long-past summer. He smiled to thinkthat this phantom coquetry should have risen at the summons of anacademic degree; but some deeper sense in him was stirred as by a visionof waste riches adrift on the dim seas of chance. 

For a moment she sat silent, as in the days when they had been too neareach other for many words; and there was something indescribablysoothing in this dreamlike return to the past. It was he who rousedhimself first. 

"How young you look!" he said, giving involuntary utterance to histhought. 

"Do I?" she answered gaily. "I am glad of that, for I feelextraordinarily young tonight. Perhaps it is because I have beenthinking a great deal of the old days--of Venice and Turin--and of thehigh-road to Vercelli, for instance. " She glanced at him with a smile. 

"Do you know, " she went on, moving to a seat at his side, and laying ahand on the arm of his chair, "that there is one secret of mine you havenever guessed in all these years?"

Odo returned her smile. "What is it, I wonder?" he said. 

She fixed him with bright bantering eyes. "I knew why you deserted us atVercelli. " He uttered an exclamation, but she lifted a hand to his lips. "Ah, how angry I was then--but why be angry now? It all happened so longago; and if it had not happened--who knows?--perhaps you would neverhave pitied me enough to love me as you did. " She laughed softly, reminiscently, leaning back as if to let the tide of memories rippleover her. Then she raised her head suddenly, and said in a changedvoice: "Are your plans fixed for tomorrow?"

Odo glanced at her in surprise. Her mind seemed to move as capriciouslyas Maria Clementina's. 

"The constitution is signed, " he answered, "and my ministers proclaim ittomorrow morning. " He looked at her a moment, and lifted her hand to hislips. "Everything has been done according to your wishes, " he said. 

She drew away with a start, and he saw that she had turned pale. "No, no--not as I wish, " she murmured. "It must not be because _I_ wish--"she broke off and her hand slipped from his. 

"You have taught me to wish as you wish, " he answered gently. "Surelyyou would not disown your pupil now?"

Her agitation increased. "Do not call yourself that!" she exclaimed. "Not even in jest. What you have done has been done of your ownchoice--because you thought it best for your people. My nearness orabsence could have made no difference. "

He looked at her with growing wonder. "Why this sudden modesty?" he saidwith a smile. "I thought you prided yourself on your share in the greatwork. "

She tried to force an answering smile, but the curve broke into a quiverof distress, and she came close to him, with a gesture that seemed totake flight from herself. 

"Don't say it, don't say it!" she broke out. "What right have they tocall it my doing? I but stood aside and watched you and gloried inyou--is there any guilt to a woman in THAT?" She clung to him a moment, hiding her face in his breast. 

He loosened her arms gently, that he might draw back and look at her. "Fulvia, " he asked, "what ails you? You are not yourself tonight. Hasanything happened to distress you? Have you been annoyed or alarmed inany way?--It is not possible, " he broke off, "that Trescorre has beenhere--?"

She drew away, flushed and protesting. "No, no, " she exclaimed. "Whyshould Trescorre come here? Why should you fancy that any one has beenhere? I am excited, I know; I talk idly; but it is because I have beenthinking too long of these things--"

"Of what things?"

"Of what people say--how can one help hearing that? I sometimes fancythat the more withdrawn one lives the more distinctly one hears theouter noises. "

"But why should you heed the outer noises? You have never done sobefore. "

"Perhaps I was wrong not to do so before. Perhaps I should have listenedsooner. Perhaps others have seen--understood--sooner than I--oh, thethought is intolerable!"

She moved a pace or two away, and then, regaining the mastery of herlips and eyes, turned to him with a show of calmness. 

"Your heart was never in this charter--" she began. 

"Fulvia!" he cried protestingly; but she lifted a silencing hand. "Ah, Ihave seen it--I have felt it--but I was never willing to own that youwere right. My pride in you blinded me, I suppose. I could not bear todream any fate for you but the greatest. I saw you always leadingevents, rather than waiting on them. But true greatness lies in the man, not in his actions. Compromise, delay, renunciation--these may be asheroic as conflict. A woman's vision is so narrow that I did not seethis at first. You have always told me that I looked only at one side ofthe question; but I see the other side now--I see that you were right. "

Odo stood silent. He had followed her with growing wonder. A volte-faceso little in keeping with her mental habits immediately struck him as afeint; yet so strangely did it accord with his own secret reluctancesthat these inclined him to let it pass unquestioned. 

Some instinctive loyalty to his past checked the temptation. "I am notsure that I understand you, " he said slowly. "Have you lost faith in theideas we have worked for?"

She hesitated, and he saw the struggle beneath her surface calmness. "No, no, " she exclaimed quickly, "I have not lost faith in them--"

"In me, then?"

She smiled with a disarming sadness. "That would be so much simpler!"she murmured. 

"What do you mean, then?" he urged. "We must understand each other. " Hepaused, and measured his words out slowly. "Do you think it a mistake toproclaim the constitution tomorrow?"

Again her face was full of shadowy contradictions. "I entreat you not toproclaim it tomorrow, " she said in a low voice. 

Odo felt the blood drum in his ears. Was not this the word for which hehad waited? But still some deeper instinct held him back, warning him, as it seemed, that to fall below his purpose at such a juncture was theonly measurable failure. He must know more before he yielded, see deeperinto her heart and his; and each moment brought the clearer convictionthat there was more to know and see. 

"This is unlike you, Fulvia, " he said. "You cannot make such a requeston impulse. You must have a reason. "

She smiled. "You told me once that a woman's reasons are only impulsesin men's clothes. "

But he was not to be diverted by this thrust. "I shall think so now, " hesaid, "unless you can give me some better account of yours!"

She was silent, and he pressed on with a persistency for which hehimself could hardly account: "You must have a reason for this request. "

"I have one, " she said, dropping her attempts at evasion. 

"And it is--?"

She paused again, with a look of appeal against which he had to stiffenhimself. 

"I do not believe the time has come, " she said at length. 

"You think the people are not ready for the constitution?"

She answered with an effort: "I think the people are not ready for it. "

He fell silent, and they sat facing each other, but with eyes apart. 

"You have received this impression from Gamba, from Andreoni--from themembers of our party?" he asked. 

She made no reply. 

"Remember, Fulvia, " he went on almost sternly, "that this is the end forwhich we have worked together all these years--the end for which werenounced each other and went forth in our youth, you to exile and I toan unwilling sovereignty. It was because we loved this cause better thanourselves that we had strength to give up for it our personal hopes ofhappiness. If we betray the cause from any merely personal motive weshall have fallen below our earlier selves. " He waited again, but shewas still silent. "Can you swear to me, " he went on, "that no suchmotive influences you now? That you honestly believe we have beendeceived and mistaken? That our years of faith and labour have beenwasted, and that, if mankind is to be helped, it is to be in other waysand by other efforts than ours?"

He stood before her accusingly, almost, the passion of the long fightsurging up in him as he felt the weapon drop from his hand. 

Fulvia had sat motionless under his appeal; but as he paused she rosewith an impulsive gesture. "Oh, why do you torment me with questions?"she cried, half-sobbing. "I venture to counsel a delay, and you arraignme as though I stood at the day of judgment!"

"It IS our day of judgment, " he retorted. "It is the day on which lifeconfronts us with our own actions, and we must justify them or ownourselves deluded. " He went up to her and caught her hands entreatingly. "Fulvia, " he said, "I too have doubted, wavered--and if you will give meone honest reason that is worthy of us both--"

She broke from him to hide her weeping. "Reasons! reasons!" shestammered. "What does the heart know of reasons? I ask a favour--thefirst I ever asked of you--and you answer it by haggling with me forreasons!"

Something in her voice and gesture was like a lightning-flash over adark landscape. In an instant he saw the pit at his feet. 

"Some one has been with you. Those words were not yours, " he cried. 

She rallied instantly. "That is a pretext for not heeding them!" shereturned. 

The lightning glared again. He stepped close and faced her. 

"The Duchess has been here, " he said. 

She dropped into a chair and hid her face from him. A wave of angermounted from his heart, choking back his words and filling his brainwith its fumes. But as it subsided he felt himself suddenly cool, firm, attempered. There could be no wavering, no self-questioning now. 

"When did this happen?" he asked. 

She shook her head despairingly. 

"Fulvia, " he said, "if you will not speak I will speak for you. I canguess what arguments were used--what threats, even. Were there threats?"burst from him in a fresh leap of anger. 

She raised her head slowly. "Threats would not have mattered, " she said. 

"But your fears were played on--your fears for my safety?--Fulvia, answer me!" he insisted. 

She rose suddenly and laid her arms about his shoulders, with a gesturehalf-tender, half-maternal. 

"Oh, " she said, "why will you torture me? I have borne much for ourlove's sake, and would have borne this too--in silence, like therest--but to speak of it is to relieve it; and my strength fails me!"

He held her hands fast, keeping his eyes on hers. "No, " he said, "foryour strength never failed you when there was any call on it; and ourwhole past calls on it now. Rouse yourself, Fulvia: look life in theface! You were told there might be troubles tomorrow--that I was indanger, perhaps?"

"There was worse--there was worse, " she shuddered. 

"Worse?"

"The blame was laid on me--the responsibility. Your love for me, mypower over you, were accused. The people hate me--they hate you forloving me! Oh, I have destroyed you!" she cried. 

Odo felt a slow cold strength pouring into all his veins. It was asthough his enemies, in thinking to mix a mortal poison, had rendered himinvulnerable. He bent over her with great gentleness. 

"Fulvia, this is madness, " he said. "A moment's thought must show youwhat passions are here at work. Can you not rise above such fears? Noone can judge between us but ourselves. "

"Ah, but you do not know--you will not understand. Your life may be indanger!" she cried. 

"I have been told that before, " he said contemptuously. "It is a commontrick of the political game. "

"This is no trick, " she exclaimed. "I was made to see--tounderstand--and I swear to you that the danger is real. "

"And what if it were? Is the Church to have all the martyrs?" said hegaily. "Come, Fulvia, shake off such fancies. My life is as safe asyours. At worst there may be a little hissing to be faced. That is easyenough compared to facing one's own doubts. And I have no doubtsnow--that is all past, thank heaven! I see the road straight beforeme--as straight as when you showed it to me once before, years ago, inthe inn-parlour at Peschiera. You pointed the way to it then; surely youwould not hold me back from it now?"

He took her in his arms and kissed her lips to silence. 

"When we meet tomorrow, " he said, releasing her, "It will be as teacherand pupil, you in your doctor's gown and I a learner at your feet. Putyour old faith in me into your argument, and we shall have all Pianuraconverted. "

He hastened away through the dim gardens, carrying a boy's heart in hisbreast. 

4. 10. 

The University of Pianura was lodged in the ancient Signoria or TownHall of the free city; and here, on the afternoon of the Duke'sbirthday, the civic dignitaries and the leading men of the learnedprofessions had assembled to see the doctorate conferred on theSignorina Fulvia Vivaldi and on several less conspicuous candidates ofthe other sex. 

The city was again in gala dress. Early that morning the newconstitution had been proclaimed, with much firing of cannon and displayof official fireworks; but even these great news, and their attendantmanifestations, had failed to enliven the populace, who, instead offilling the streets with their usual stir, hung massed at certainpoints, as though curiously waiting on events. There are few sights moreominous than that of a crowd thus observing itself, watching ininconscient suspense for the unknown crisis which its own passions haveengendered. 

It was known that his Highness, after the public banquet at the palace, was to proceed in state to the University; and the throng was thickabout the palace gates and in the streets betwixt it and the Signoria. Here the square was close-packed, and every window choked with gazers, as the Duke's coach came in sight, escorted meagrely by his equerriesand the half-dozen light-horse that preceded him. The small escort, andthe marked absence of military display, perhaps disappointed thesplendour-loving crowd; and from this cause or another, scarce a cheerwas heard as his Highness descended from his coach, and walked up thesteps to the porch of ancient carved stone where the faculty awaitedhim. 

The hall was already filled with students and graduates, and with theguests of the University. Through this grave assemblage the Duke passedup to the row of armchairs beneath the dais at the farther end of theroom. Trescorre, who was to have attended his Highness, had excusedhimself on the plea of indisposition, and only a fewgentlemen-in-waiting accompanied the Duke; but in the brown half-lightof the old Gothic hall their glittering uniforms contrasted brilliantlywith the black gowns of the students, and the sober broadcloth of thelearned professions. A discreet murmur of enthusiasm rose at theirapproach, mounting almost to a cheer as the Duke bowed before taking hisseat; for the audience represented the class most in sympathy with hispolicy and most confident of its success. 

The meetings of the faculty were held in the great council-chamber wherethe Rectors of the old free city had assembled; and such a setting wasregarded as peculiarly appropriate to the present occasion. The fact wasalluded to, with much wealth of historical and mythological analogy, bythe President, who opened the ceremonies with a polysyllabic Latinoration, in which the Duke was compared to Apollo, Hercules and Jason, as well as to the flower of sublunary heroes. 

This feat of rhetoric over, the candidates were called on to advance andreceive their degrees. The men came first, profiting by the momentaryadvantage of sex, but clearly aware of its inability to confer evenmomentary importance in the eyes of the impatient audience. A pausefollowed, and then Fulvia appeared. Against the red-robed faculty at theback of the dais, she stood tall and slender in her black cap and gown. The high windows of painted glass shed a paleness on her face, but hercarriage was light and assured as she advanced to the President andknelt to receive her degree. The parchment was placed in her hand, thefurred hood laid on her shoulders; then, after another flourish ofrhetoric, she was led to the lectern from which her discourse was to bedelivered. Odo sat just below her, and as she took her place their eyesmet for an instant. He was caught up in the serene exaltation of herlook, as though she soared with him above wind and cloud to a region ofunshadowed calm; then her eyes fell and she began to speak. 

She had a pretty mastery of Latin, and though she had never beforespoken in public, her poetical recitations, and the early habit ofintercourse with her father's friends, had given her a fair measure offluency and self-possession. These qualities were raised to eloquence bythe sweetness of her voice, and by the grave beauty which made theacademic gown seem her natural wear, rather than a travesty of learning. Odo at first had some difficulty in fixing his attention on what shesaid; and when he controlled his thoughts she was in the height of herpanegyric of constitutional liberty. She had begun slowly, almostcoldly; but now her theme possessed her. One by one she evoked thefamiliar formulas with which his mind had once reverberated. They wokeno echo in him now; but he saw that she could still set them ringingthrough the sensibilities of her hearers. As she stood there, a slightimpassioned figure, warming to her high argument, his sense of irony wastouched by the incongruity of her background. The wall behind her wascovered by an ancient fresco, fast fading under its touches of renewedgilding, and representing the patron scholars of the mediaeval world:the theologians, law-givers and logicians under whose protection thefree city had placed its budding liberties. There they sat, rigid andsumptuous on their Gothic thrones: Origen, Zeno, David, Lycurgus, Aristotle; listening in a kind of cataleptic helplessness to aconfession of faith that scattered their doctrines to the winds. As helooked and listened, a weary sense of the reiterance of things came overhim. For what were these ancient manipulators of ideas, prestidigitatorsof a vanished world of thought, but the forbears of the long line oftheorists of whom Fulvia was the last inconscient mouthpiece? The newgame was still played with the old counters, the new jugglers repeatedthe old tricks; and the very words now poured out in defence of the newcause were but mercenaries scarred in the service of its enemies. Forgenerations, for centuries, man had fought on; crying for liberty, dreaming it was won, waking to find himself the slave of the new forceshe had generated, burning and being burnt for the same beliefs underdifferent guises, calling his instinct ideas and his ideas revelations;destroying, rebuilding, falling, rising, mending broken weapons, championing extinct illusions, mistaking his failures for achievementsand planting his flag on the ramparts as they fell. And as the vision ofthis inveterate conflict rose before him, Odo saw that the beauty, thepower, the immortality, dwelt not in the idea but in the struggle forit. 

His resistance yielded as this sense stole over him, and with an almostphysical relief he felt himself drawn once more into the familiarcurrent of emotion. Yes, it was better after all to be one of that greatunconquerable army, though, like the Trojans fighting for a phantomHelen, they might be doing battle for the shadow of a shade; better tomarch in their ranks, endure with them, fight with them, fall with them, than to miss the great enveloping sense of brotherhood that turneddefeat to victory. 

As the conviction grew in him, Fulvia's words regained their lostsignificance. Through the set mask of language the living thoughtslooked forth, old indeed as the world, but renewed with the new life ofevery heart that bore them. She had left the abstract and dropped toconcrete issues: to the gift of the constitution, the benefits andobligations it implied, the new relations it established between rulerand subject and between man and man. Odo saw that she approached thequestion without flinching. No trace remained of the trembling woman whohad clung to him the night before. Her old convictions repossessed herand she soared above human fears. 

So engrossed was he that he had been unaware of a growing murmur ofsound which seemed to be forcing its way from without through the wallsof the ancient building. As Fulvia's oration neared its end the murmurrose to a roar. Startled faces were turned toward the doors of thecouncil-chamber, and one of the Duke's gentlemen left his seat and madehis way through the audience. Odo sat motionless, his eyes on Fulvia. Henoticed that her face paled as the sound reached her, but there was nobreak in the voice with which she uttered the closing words of herperoration. As she ended, the noise was momentarily drowned under a loudburst of clapping; but this died in a hush of apprehension through whichthe outer tumult became more ominously audible. The equerry reenteredthe hall with a disordered countenance. He hastened to the Duke andaddressed him urgently. 

"Your Highness, " he said, "the crowd has thickened and wears an uglylook. There are many friars abroad, and images of the Mountain Virginare being carried in procession. Will your Highness be pleased to remainhere while I summon an escort from the barracks?"

Odo was still watching Fulvia. She had received the applause of theaudience with a deep reverence, and was now in the act of withdrawing tothe inner room at the back of the dais. Her eyes met Odo's; she smiledand the door closed on her. He turned to the equerry. 

"There is no need of an escort, " he said. "I trust my people if they donot trust me. "

"But, your Highness, the streets are full of demagogues who have beenharanguing the people since morning. The crowd is shouting against theconstitution and against the Signorina Vivaldi. "

A flame of anger passed over the Duke's face; but he subdued itinstantly. 

"Go to the Signorina Vivaldi, " he said, pointing to the door by whichFulvia had left the hall. "Assure her that there is no danger, but askher to remain where she is till the crowd disperses, and request thefaculty in my name to remain with her. "

The equerry bowed, and hurried up the steps of the dais, while the Dukesigned to his other companions to precede him to the door of the hall. As they walked down the long room, between the close-packed ranks of theaudience, the outer tumult surged threateningly toward them. Near thedoorway, another of the gentlemen-in-waiting was seen to speak with theDuke. 

"Your Highness, " he said, "there is a private way at the back by whichyou may yet leave the building unobserved. "

"You appear to forget that I entered it publicly, " said Odo. 

"But, your Highness, we cannot answer for the consequences--"

The Duke signed to the ushers to throw open the doors. They obeyed, andhe stepped out into the stone vestibule preceding the porch. Theiron-barred outer doors of this vestibule were securely bolted, and theporter hung back in affright at the order to unlock them. 

"Your Highness, the people are raving mad, " he said, flinging himself onhis knees. 

Odo turned impatiently to his escort. "Unbar the doors, gentlemen, " hesaid. The blood was drumming in his ears, but his eye was clear andsteady, and he noted with curious detachment the comic agony of the fatporter's face, and the strain and swell of the equerry's muscles as hedragged back the ponderous bolts. 

The doors swung open, and the Duke emerged. Below him, still with thatunimpaired distinctness of vision which seemed a part of his heightenedvitality, he saw a great gesticulating mass of people. They packed thesquare so closely that their own numbers held them immovable, save fortheir swaying arms and heads; and those whom the square could notcontain had climbed to porticoes, balconies and cornices, and massedthemselves in the neck of the adjoining streets. The handful oflight-horse who had escorted the Duke's carriage formed a single line atthe foot of the steps, so that the approach to the porch was stillclear; but it was plain that the crowd, with its next movement, wouldbreak through this slender barrier and hem in the Duke. 

At Odo's appearance the shouting had ceased and every eye was turned onhim. He stood there, a brilliant target, in his laced coat ofpeach-coloured velvet, his breast covered with orders, a hand on hisjewelled sword-hilt. For a moment sovereign and subjects measured eachother; and in that moment Odo drank his deepest draught of life. He wasnot thinking now of the constitution or its opponents. His presentbusiness was to get down the steps and into the carriage, returning tothe palace as openly as he had come. He was conscious of neither pitynor hatred for the throng in his path. For the moment he regarded themmerely as a natural force, to be fought against like storm or flood. Hisclearest sensation was one of relief at having at last some materialobstacle to spend his strength against, instead of the impalpable powerswhich had so long beset him. He felt, too, a boyish satisfaction at hisown steadiness of pulse and eye, at the absence of that fatal inertiawhich he had come to dread. So clear was his mental horizon that itembraced not only the present crisis, but a dozen incidents leading upto it. He remembered that Trescorre had urged him to take a largerescort, and that he had refused on the ground that any military displaymight imply a doubt of his people. He was glad now that he had done so. He would have hated to slink to his carriage behind a barrier of drawnswords. He wanted no help to see him through this business. The bloodsang in his veins at the thought of facing it alone. 

The silence lasted but a moment; then an image of the Mountain Virginwas suddenly thrust in air, and a voice cried out: "Down with our Lady'senemies! We want no laws against the friars!"

A howl caught up the words and tossed them to and fro above the seethingheads. Images of the Virgin, religious banners, the blue-and-white ofthe Madonna's colours, suddenly canopied the crowd. 

"We want the Barnabites back!" sang out another voice. 

"Down with the free-thinkers!" yelled a hundred angry throats. 

A stone or two sped through the air and struck the sculptures of theporch. 

"Your Highness!" cried the equerry who stood nearest, and would havesnatched the Duke back within doors. 

For all answer, Odo stepped clear of the porch and advanced to the edgeof the steps. As he did so, a shower of missiles hummed about him, and astone struck him on the lip. The blood rushed to his head, and he swayedin the sudden grip of anger; but he mastered himself and raised his lacehandkerchief to the cut. 

His gentlemen had drawn their swords; but he signed to them to sheatheagain. His first thought was that he must somehow make the people hearhim. He lifted his hand and advanced a step; but as he did so a shotrang out, followed by a loud cry. The lieutenant of the light-horse, infuriated by the insult to his master, had drawn the pistol from hisholster and fired blindly into the crowd. His bullet had found a mark, and the throng hissed and seethed about the spot where a man had fallen. At the same instant Odo was aware of a commotion in the group behindhim, and with a great plunge of the heart he saw Fulvia at his side. Shestill wore the academic dress, and her black gown detached itselfsharply against the bright colours of the ducal uniforms. 

Groans and hisses received her, but the mob hung back, as though herlook had checked them. Then a voice shrieked out: "Down with theatheist! We want no foreign witches!" and another caught it up with theyell: "She poisoned the weaver's boy! Her father was hanged formurdering Christian children!"

The cry set the crowd in motion again, and it rolled toward the line ofmounted soldiers at the foot of the steps. The men had their hands ontheir holsters; but the Duke's call rang out: "No firing!" and drawingtheir blades, they sat motionless to receive the shock. 

It came, dashed against them and dispersed them. Only a few yards laynow between the people and their sovereign. But at that moment anothershot was fired. This time it came from the thick of the crowd. Theequerries' swords leapt forth again, and they closed around the Duke andFulvia. 

"Save yourself, sir! Back into the building!" one of the gentlemenshouted; but Odo had no eyes for what was coming. For as the shot washeard he had seen a change in Fulvia. A moment they had stood together, smiling, undaunted, hands locked and wedded eyes, then he felt herdissolve against him and drop between his arms. 

A cry had gone out that the Duke was wounded, and a leaden silence fellon the crowd. In that silence Odo knelt, lifting Fulvia's head to hisbreast. No wound showed through her black gown. She lay as thoughsmitten by some invisible hand. So deep was the hush that her leastwhisper must have reached him; but though he bent close no whisper came. The invisible hand had struck the very source of life; and to these two, in their moment of final reunion, with so much unsaid between them thatnow at last they longed to say, there was left only the dumb communionof fast-clouding eyes... 

A clatter of cavalry was heard down the streets that led to the square. The equerry sent to warn Fulvia had escaped from the back of thebuilding and hastened to the barracks to summon a regiment. But thesoldiery were no longer needed. The blind fury of the mob had died ofits own excess. The rumour that the Duke was hurt brought a chillreaction of dismay, and the rioters were already scattering when thecavalry came in sight. Their approach turned the slow dispersal to astampede. A few arrests were made, the remaining groups were charged bythe soldiers, and presently the square lay bare as a storm-swept plain, though the people still hung on its outskirts, ready to disband at thefirst threat of the troops. 

It was on this solitude that the Duke looked out as he regained a senseof his surroundings. Fulvia had been carried into the audience-chamberand laid on the dais, her head resting on the velvet cushions of theducal chair. She had died instantly, shot through the heart, and thesurgeons summoned in haste had soon ceased from their ineffectualefforts. For a long time Odo knelt beside her, unconscious of all butthat one wild moment when life at its highest had been dashed into thegulf of death. Thought had ceased, and neither rage nor grief moved asyet across the chaos of his being. All his life was in his eyes, as theydrew up, drop by drop, the precious essence of her loveliness. For shehad grown, beneath the simplifying hand of death, strangely yet mosthumanly beautiful. Life had fallen from her like the husk from theflower, and she wore the face of her first hopes. The transition hadbeen too swift for any backward look, any anguished rending of thefibres, and he felt himself, not detached by the stroke, but caught upwith her into some great calm within the heart of change. 

He knew not how he found himself once more on the steps above thesquare. Below him his state carriage stood in the same place, flanked bythe regiment of cavalry. Down the narrow streets he saw the broodingcloud of people, and the sight roused his blood. They were his enemiesnow--he felt the warm hate in his veins. They were his enemies, and hewould face them openly. No closed chariot guarded by troops--he wouldnot have so much as a pane of glass between himself and his subjects. Hedescended the steps, bade the colonel of the regiment dismount, andsprang into his saddle. Then, at the head of his soldiers, at afoot-pace, he rode back through the packed streets to the palace. 

In the palace, courtyard and vestibule were thronged with courtiers andlacqueys. He walked through them with his head high, the cut on his liplike the mark of a hot iron in the dead whiteness of his face. At thehead of the great staircase Maria Clementina waited. She sprang forward, distraught and trembling, her face as blanched as his. 

"You are safe--you are safe--you are not hurt--" she stammered, catchingat his hands. 

A shudder seized him as he put her aside. 

"Odo! Odo!" she cried passionately, and made as though to bar his way. 

He gave her a blind look and passed on down the long gallery to hiscloset. 

4. 11. 

The joy of reprisals lasted no longer than a summer storm. To hurt, tosilence, to destroy, was too easy to be satisfying. The passions of hisancestors burned low in Odo's breast: though he felt Bracciaforte's furyin his veins he could taste no answering gratification of revenge. Andthe spirit on which he would have spent his hatred was not here orthere, as an embodied faction, but everywhere as an intangibleinfluence. The acqua tofana of his enemies had pervaded every fibre ofthe state. 

The mist of anguish lifted, he saw himself alone among ruins. For amoment Fulvia's glowing faith had hung between him and a final vision ofthe truth; and as his convictions weakened he had replaced them with animmense pity, an all-sufficing hope. Sentimental verbiage: he saw itclearly now. He had been the dupe of the old word-jugglery which wasforever confounding fact and fancy in men's minds. For it wasessentially an age of words: the world was drunk with them, as it hadonce been drunk with action; and the former was the deadlier drug of thetwo. He looked about him languidly, letting the facts of life filterslowly through his faculties. The sources of energy were so benumbed inhim that he felt like a man whom long disease had reduced tohelplessness and who must laboriously begin his bodily education again. Hate was the only passion which survived, and that was but a deafintransitive emotion coiled in his nature's depths. 

Sickness at last brought its obliteration. He sank into gulfs ofweakness and oblivion, and when the rise of the tide floated him back tolife, it was to a life as faint and colourless as infancy. Colourlesstoo were the boundaries on which he looked out: the narrow enclosure ofwhite walls, opening on a slit of pale spring landscape. His hands laybefore him, white and helpless on the white coverlet of his bed. Heraised his eyes and saw de Crucis at his side. Then he began toremember. There had been preceding intervals of consciousness, and inone of them, in answer perhaps to some vaguely-uttered wish for lightand air, he had been carried out of the palace and the city to theBenedictine monastery on its wooded knoll beyond the Piana. Then theveil had dropped again, and his spirit had wandered in a dim place ofshades. There was a faint sweetness in coming back at last to familiarsights and sounds. They no longer hurt like pressure on an aching nerve:they seemed rather, now, the touch of a reassuring hand. 

As the contact with life became closer and more sustained he began towatch himself curiously, wondering what instincts and habits of thoughtwould survive his long mental death. It was with a bitter, almostpitiable disappointment that he found the old man growing again in him. Life, with a mocking hand, brought him the cast-off vesture of his past, and he felt himself gradually compressed again into the old passions andprejudices. Yet he wore them with a difference--they were a crampinggarment rather than a living sheath. He had brought back from his lonelyvoyagings a sense of estrangement deeper than any surface-affinity withthings. 

As his physical strength returned, and he was able to leave his room andwalk through the long corridors to the outer air, he felt the old spellwhich the life of Monte Cassino had cast on him. The quiet garden, withits clumps of box and lavender between paths converging to the statue ofSaint Benedict; the cloisters paved with the monks' nameless graves; thetraces of devotional painting left here and there on the weather-beatenwalls, like fragments of prayer in a world-worn mind: these formed acircle of tranquillising influences in which he could graduallyreacquire the habit of living. 

He had never deceived himself as to the cause of the riots. He knew fromGamba and Andreoni that the liberals and the court, for once working inunison, had provoked the blind outburst of fanaticism which a rasherjudgment might have ascribed to the clergy. The Dominicans, bigoted andeager for power, had been ready enough to serve such an end, and some ofthe begging orders had furnished the necessary points of contact withthe people; but the movement was at bottom purely political, andrepresented the resistance of the privileged classes to any attack ontheir inherited rights. 

As such, he could no longer regard it as completely unreasonable. He wasbeginning to feel the social and political significance of those oldrestrictions and barriers against which his early zeal had tilted. Certainly in the ideal state the rights and obligations of the differentclasses would be more evenly adjusted. But the ideal state was a figmentof the brain. The real one, as Crescenti had long ago pointed out, wasthe gradual and heterogeneous product of remote social conditions, wherein every seeming inconsistency had its roots in some bygone need, and the character of each class, with its special passions, ignorancesand prejudices, was the sum total of influences so ingrown andinveterate that they had become a law of thought. All this, however, seemed rather matter for philosophic musing than for definite action. His predominant feeling was still that of remoteness from the immediateissues of life: the soeva indignatio had been succeeded by a great calm. 

The soothing influences of the monastic life had doubtless helped totide him over the stormy passage of returning consciousness. Hissensitiveness to these influences inclined him for the first time toconsider them analytically. Hitherto he had regarded the Church as askilfully-adjusted engine, the product of human passions scientificallycombined to obtain the greatest sum of tangible results. Now he saw thathe had never penetrated beneath the surface. For the Church whichgrasped, contrived, calculated, struggled for temporal possessions andused material weapons against spiritual foes--this outer Church wasnothing more than the body, which, like any other animal body, had tocare for its own gross needs, nourish, clothe, defend itself, fight fora footing among the material resistances of life--while the soul, theinner animating principle, might dwell aloof from all these things, in aclear medium of its own. 

To this soul of the Church his daily life now brought him close. He feltit in the ordered beneficence of the great community, in the simplicityof its external life and the richness and suavity of its innerrelations. No alliance based on material interests, no love of powerworking toward a common end, could have created that harmony of thoughtand act which was reflected in every face about him. Each of these menseemed to have FOUND OUT SOMETHING of which he was still ignorant. 

What it was, de Crucis tried to tell him as they paced the cloisterstogether or sat in the warm stillness of the budding garden. At thefirst news of the Duke's illness the Jesuit had hastened to Pianura. Nocompanionship could have been so satisfying to Odo. De Crucis's mentalattitude toward mankind might have been defined as an illuminatedcharity. To love men, or to understand them, is not as unusual as to doboth together; and it was the intellectual acuteness of his friend'sjudgments that made their Christian amenity so seductive to Odo. 

"The highest claim of Christianity, " the Jesuit said one morning, asthey sat on a worn stone bench at the end of the sunny vine-walk, "isthat it has come nearer to solving the problem of men's relations toeach other than any system invented by themselves. This, after all, isthe secret principle of the Church's vitality. She gave a spiritualcharter of equality to mankind long before the philosophers thought ofgiving them a material one. If, all the while, she has been fighting fordominion, arrogating to herself special privileges, struggling topreserve the old lines of social and legal demarcation, it has beenbecause for nigh two thousand years she has cherished in her breast theone free city of the spirit, because to guard its liberties she has hadto defend and strengthen her own position. I do not ask you to considerwhence comes this insight into the needs of man, this mysterious powerover him; I ask you simply to confess them in their results. I am not ofthose who believe that God permits good to come to mankind through onechannel only, and I doubt not that now and in times past the thinkerswhom your Highness follows have done much to raise the condition oftheir fellows; but I would have you observe that, where they have doneso, it has been because, at bottom, their aims coincided with theChurch's. The deeper you probe into her secret sources of power, themore you find there, in the germ if you will, but still potentiallyactive, all those humanising energies which work together for thelifting of the race. In her wisdom and her patience she may have seenfit to withhold their expression, to let them seek another outlet; butthey are there, stored in her consciousness like the archetypes of thePlatonists in the Universal Mind. It is the knowledge of this, the sureknowledge of it, which creates the atmosphere of serenity that you feelabout you. From the tilling of the vineyards, or the dressing of abeggar's sores, to the loftiest and most complicated intellectual labourimposed on him, each brother knows that his daily task is part of agreat scheme of action, working ever from imperfection to perfection, from human incompleteness to the divine completion. This sense of being, not straws on a blind wind of chance, but units in an ordered force, gives to the humblest Christian an individual security and dignity whichkings on their thrones might envy. 

"But not only does the Church anticipate every tendency of mankind;alone of all powers she knows how to control and direct the passions sheexcites. This it is which makes her an auxiliary that no temporal princecan well despise. It is in this aspect that I would have your Highnessconsider her. Do not underrate her power because it seems based on thecommoner instincts rather than on the higher faculties of man. That isone of the sources of her strength. She can support her claims by reasonand argument, but it is because her work, like that of her divineFounder, lies chiefly among those who can neither reason nor argue, thatshe chooses to rest her appeal on the simplest and most universalemotions. As, in our towns, the streets are lit mainly by the tapersbefore the shrines of the saints, so the way of life would be dark tothe great multitude of men but for the light of faith burning withinthem... "

Meanwhile the shufflings of destiny had brought to Trescorre the prizefor which he waited. During the Duke's illness he had been appointedregent of Pianura, and his sovereign's reluctance to take up the caresof government had now left him for six months in authority. The dayafter the proclaiming of the constitution Odo had withdrawn hissignature from it, on the ground that the concessions it contained wereinopportune. The functions of government went on again in the old way. The old abuses persisted, the old offences were condoned: it was asthough the apathy of the sovereign had been communicated to his people. Centuries of submission were in their blood, and for two generationsthere had been no warfare south of the Alps. 

For the moment men's minds were turned to the great events going forwardin France. It had not yet occurred to the Italians that the recoil ofthese events might be felt among themselves. They were simply amusedspectators, roused at last to the significance of the show, but neverdreaming that they might soon be called from the wings to thefootlights. To de Crucis, however, the possibility of such a call wasalready present, and it was he who pressed the Duke to return to hispost. A deep reluctance held Odo back. He would have liked to linger onin the monastery, leading the tranquil yet busy life of the monks, andtrying to read the baffling riddle of its completeness. At that momentit seemed to him of vastly more importance to discover the exact natureof the soul--whether it was in fact a metaphysical entity, as these menbelieved, or a mere secretion of the brain, as he had been taught tothink--than to go back and govern his people. For what mattered therest, if he had been mistaken about the soul?

With a start he realised that he was going as his cousin had gone--thatthis was but another form of the fatal lethargy that hung upon his race. An effort of the will drew him back to Pianura, and made him resume thesemblance of authority; but it carried him no farther. Trescorreostensibly became prime minister, and in reality remained the head ofthe state. The Duke was present at the cabinet meetings but took no partin the direction of affairs. His mind was lost in a maze of metaphysicalspeculations; and even these served him merely as somecunningly-contrived toy with which to trick his leisure. 

His revocation of the charter had necessarily separated him from Gambaand the advanced liberals. He knew that the hunchback, ever scornful ofexpediency, charged him with disloyalty to the people; but such chargescould no longer wound. The events following the Duke's birthday hadserved to crystallise the schemes of the little liberal group, and theynow formed a campaign of active opposition to the government, attackingit by means of pamphlets and lampoons, and by such public speaking asthe police allowed. The new professors of the University, ardently insympathy with the constitutional movement, used their lectures as meansof political teaching, and the old stronghold of dogma became the centreof destructive criticism. But as yet these ideas formed but a singlelive point in the general numbness. 

Two years passed in this way. North of the Alps, all Europe wasconvulsed, while Italy was still but a sleeper who tosses in his sleep. In the two Sicilies, the arrogance and perfidy of the government gave afew martyrs to the cause, and in Bologna there was a brief revolutionaryoutbreak; but for the most part the Italian states were sinking intoinanition. Venice, by recalling her fleet from Greece, let fall thedominion of the sea. Twenty years earlier Genoa had basely yieldedCorsica to France. The Pope condemned the French for their outrages onreligion, and his subjects murdered Basseville, the agent of the newrepublic. The sympathies and impulses of the various states were ascontradictory as they were ineffectual. 

Meanwhile, in France, Europe was trying to solve at a stroke theproblems of a thousand years. All the repressed passions whichcivilisation had sought, however imperfectly, to curb, stalked abroaddestructive as flood and fire. The great generation of theEncyclopaedists had passed away, and the teachings of Rousseau hadprevailed over those of Montesquieu and Voltaire. The sober sense of theeconomists was swept aside by the sound and fury of the demagogues, andFrance was become a very Babel of tongues. The old malady of words hadswept over the world like a pestilence. 

To the little Italian courts, still dozing in fancied security under thewing of Bourbon and Hapsburg suzerains, these rumours were borne by thewild flight of emigres--dead leaves loosened by the first blast of thestorm. Month by month they poured across the Alps in ever-increasingnumbers, bringing confused contradictory tales of anarchy and outrage. Among those whom chance thus carried to Pianura were certain familiarsof the Duke's earlier life--the Count Alfieri and his royal mistress, flying from Paris, and arriving breathless with the tale of theirprivate injuries. To the poet of revolt this sudden realisation of hisdoctrines seemed in fact a purely personal outrage. It was as though aman writing an epic poem on an earthquake should suddenly find himselfengulphed. To Alfieri the downfall of the French monarchy and thetriumph of democratic ideas meant simply that his French investments hadshrunk to nothing, and that he, the greatest poet of the age, had beenobliged, at an immense sacrifice of personal dignity, to plead with adrunken mob for leave to escape from Paris. To the wider aspect of the"tragic farce, " as he called it, his eyes remained obstinately closed. He viewed the whole revolutionary movement as a conspiracy against hiscomfort, and boasted that during his enforced residence in France he hadnot so much as exchanged a word with one of the "French slaves, instigators of false liberty, " who, by trying to put into action theprinciples taught in his previous works, had so grievously interferedwith the composition of fresh masterpieces. 

The royal pretensions of the Countess of Albany--pretentions affirmedrather than abated as the tide of revolution rose--made it impossiblethat she should be received at the court of Pianura; but the Duke founda mild entertainment in Alfieri's company. The poet's revulsion offeeling seemed to Odo like the ironic laughter of the fates. Histhoughts returned to the midnight meetings of the Honey Bees, and to thefirst vision of that face which men had lain down their lives to see. Men had looked on that face since then, and its horror was reflected intheir own. 

Other fugitives to Pianura brought another impression of events--thatcomic note which life, the supreme dramatic artist, never omits from hertragedies. These were the Duke's old friend the Marquis de Coeur-Volant, fleeing from his chateau as the peasants put the torch to it, andarriving in Pianura destitute, gouty and middle-aged, but imperturbableand epigrammatic as ever. With him came his Marquise, a dark-eyed lady, stout to unwieldiness and much given to devotion, in whom it waswhispered (though he introduced her as the daughter of a VenetianSenator) that a reminiscent eye might still detect the outline of thegracefullest Columbine who had ever flitted across the Italian stage. These visitors were lodged by the Duke's kindness in the PalazzoCerveno, near the ducal residence; and though the ladies of Pianura wereinclined to look askance on the Marquise's genealogy, yet his Highness'scondescension, and her own edifying piety, had soon allayed thesescruples, and the salon of Madame de Coeur-Volant became the rival ofMadame d'Albany's. 

It was, in fact, the more entertaining of the two; for, in spite of hislady's austere views, the Marquis retained that gift of socialflexibility that was already becoming the tradition of a happier day. Tothe Marquis, indeed, the revolution was execrable not so much because ofthe hardships it inflicted, as because it was the forerunner of socialdissolution--the breaking-up of the regime which had made manners thehighest morality, and conversation the chief end of man. He could havelived gaily on a crust in good company and amid smiling faces; but thesocial deficiencies of Pianura were more difficult to endure than anymaterial privation. In Italy, as the Marquis had more than onceremarked, people loved, gambled, wrote poetry, and patronised the arts;but, alas, they did not converse. Coeur-Volant could not conceal fromhis Highness that there was no conversation in Pianura; but he did hisbest to fill the void by the constant exercise of his own gift in thatdirection, and to Odo at least his talk seemed as good as it wascopious. Misfortune had given a finer savour to the Marquis'sphilosophy, and there was a kind of heroic grace in his undisturbedcultivation of the amenities. 

While the Marquis was struggling to preserve the conversational art, andAlfieri planning the savage revenge of the Misogallo, the course ofaffairs in France had gained a wilder impetus. The abolition of thenobility, the flight and capture of the King, his enforced declarationof war against Austria, the massacres of Avignon, the sack of theTuileries--such events seemed incredible enough till the next hadcrowded them out of mind. The new year rose in blood and mounted to abloodier noon. All the old defences were falling. Religion, monarchy, law, were sucked down into the whirlpool of liberated passions. Acrossthat sanguinary scene passed, like a mocking ghost, the philosophers'vision of the perfectibility of man. Man was free at last--freer thanhis would-be liberators had ever dreamed of making him--and he used hisfreedom like a beast. For the multitude had risen--that multitude whichno man could number, which even the demagogues who ranted in its namehad never seriously reckoned with--that dim, grovellingindistinguishable mass on which the whole social structure rested. Itwas as though the very soil moved, rising in mountains or yawning inchasms about the feet of those who had so long securely battened on it. The earth shook, the sun and moon were darkened, and the people, theterrible unknown people, had put in the sickle to the harvest. 

Italy roused herself at last. The emissaries of the new France wereswarming across the Alps, pervading the peninsula as the Jesuits hadonce pervaded Europe; and in the mind of a young general of therepublican army visions of Italian conquest were already forming. InPianura the revolutionary agents found a strong republican party headedby Gamba and his friends, and a government weakened by debt anddissensions. The air was thick with intrigue. The little army could nolonger be counted on, and a prolonged bread-riot had driven Trescorreout of the ministry and compelled the Duke to appoint Andreoni in hisplace. Behind Andreoni stood Gamba and the radicals. There could be nodoubt which way the fortunes of the duchy tended. The Duke's would-beprotectors, Austria and the Holy See, were too busy organising the hastycoalition of the powers to come to his aid, had he cared to call onthem. But to do so would have been but another way of annihilation. Topreserve the individuality of his state, or to merge it in the vision ofa United Italy, seemed to him the only alternatives worth fighting for. The former was a futile dream, the latter seemed for a brief momentpossible. Piedmont, ever loyal to the monarchical principle, was callingon her sister states to arm themselves against the French invasion. Butthe response was reluctant and uncertain. Private ambitions and pettyjealousies hampered every attempt at union. Austria, the Bourbons andthe Holy See held the Italian principalities in a network of conflictinginterests and obligations that rendered free action impossible. SadlyVictor Amadeus armed himself alone against the enemy. 

Under such conditions Odo could do little to direct the course ofevents. They had passed into more powerful hands than his. But he couldat least declare himself for or against the mighty impulse which wasbehind them. The ideas he had striven for had triumphed at last, and hissurest hold on authority was to share openly in their triumph. Aprofound horror dragged him back. The new principles were not those forwhich he had striven. The goddess of the new worship was but a bloodyMaenad who had borrowed the attributes of freedom. He could not bow theknee in such a charnel-house. Tranquilly, resolutely, he took up thepolicy of repression. He knew the attempt was foredoomed to failure, butthat made no difference now: he was simply acting out the inevitable. 

The last act came with unexpected suddenness. The Duke woke one morningto find the citadel in the possession of the people. The impregnablestronghold of Bracciaforte was in the hands of the serfs whose fathershad toiled to build it, and the last descendant of Bracciaforte wasvirtually a prisoner in his palace. The revolution took place quietly, without violence or bloodshed. Andreoni waited on the Duke, and acabinet-council was summoned. The ministers affected to have yieldedreluctantly to popular pressure. All they asked was a constitution andthe assurance that no resistance would be offered to the French. 

The Duke requested a few hours for deliberation. Left alone, he summonedthe Duchess's chamberlain. The ducal pair no longer met save onoccasions of state: they had not exchanged a word since the death ofFulvia Vivaldi. Odo sent word to her Highness that he could no longeranswer for her security while she remained in the duchy, and that hebegged her to leave immediately for Vienna. She replied that she wasobliged for his warning, but that while he remained in Pianura her placewas at his side. It was the answer he had expected--he had never doubtedher courage--but it was essential to his course that she should leavethe duchy without delay, and after a moment's reflection he wrote aletter in which he informed her that he must insist on her obedience. Noanswer was returned, but he learned that she had turned white, andtearing the letter in shreds had called for her travelling-carriagewithin the hour. He sent to enquire when he might take leave of her, butshe excused herself on the plea of indisposition, and before nightfallhe heard the departing rattle of her wheels. 

He immediately summoned Andreoni and announced his unconditional refusalof the terms proposed to him. He would not give a constitution orpromise allegiance to the French. The minister withdrew, and Odo wasleft alone. He had dismissed his gentlemen, and as he sat in his closeta sense of deathlike isolation came over him. Never had the palaceseemed so silent or so vast. He had not a friend to turn to. De Cruciswas in Germany, and Trescorre, it was reported, had privately attendedthe Duchess in her flight. The waves of destiny seemed closing over Odo, and the circumstances of his past rose, poignant and vivid, before hisdrowning sight. 

And suddenly, in that moment of failure and abandonment, it seemed tohim again that life was worth the living. His indifference fell from himlike a garment. The old passion of action awoke and he felt a new warmthin his breast. After all, the struggle was not yet over: though Piedmonthad called in vain on the Italian states, an Italian sword might stillbe drawn in her service. If his people would not follow him againstFrance he could still march against her alone. Old memories hummed inhim at the thought. He recalled how his Piedmontese ancestors had goneforth against the same foe, and the stout Donnaz blood began to bubblein his veins. 

A knock roused him and Gamba entered by the private way. His appearancewas not unexpected to Odo, and served only to reinforce his new-foundenergy. He felt that the issue was at hand. As he expected, Gamba hadbeen sent to put before him more forcibly and unceremoniously the veiledthreat of the ministers. But the hunchback had come also to plead withhis master in his own name, and in the name of the ideas for which theyhad once laboured together. He could not believe that the Duke'sreaction was more than momentary. He could not calculate the strength ofthe old associations which, now that the tide had set the other way, were dragging Odo back to the beliefs and traditions of his caste. 

The Duke listened in silence; then he said: "Discussion is idle. I haveno answer to give but that which I have already given. " He rose from hisseat in token of dismissal. 

The moment was painful to both men. Gamba drew nearer and fell at theDuke's feet. 

"Your Highness, " he said, "consider what this means. We hold the statein our hands. If you are against us you are powerless. If you are withus we can promise you more power than you ever dreamed of possessing. "

The Duke looked at him with a musing smile. "It is as though you offeredme gold in a desert island, " he said. "Do not waste such poor bribes onme. I care for no power but the power to wipe out the work of these lastyears. Failing that, I want nothing that you or any other man can give. "

Gamba was silent a moment. He turned aside into the embrasure of thewindow, and when he spoke again it was in a voice broken with grief. 

"Your Highness, " he said, "if your choice is made, ours is made also. Itis a hard choice, but these are fratricidal hours. We have come to theparting of the ways. "

The Duke made no sign, and Gamba went on with gathering anguish: "Wewould have gone to the world's end with your Highness for our leader!"

"With a leader whom you could lead, " Odo interposed. He went up to Gambaand laid a hand on his shoulder. "Speak out, man, " he said. "Say whatyou were sent to say. Am I a prisoner?"

The hunchback burst into tears. Odo, with his arms crossed, stoodleaning against the window. The other's anguish seemed to deepen hisdetachment. 

"Your Highness--your Highness--" Gamba stammered. 

The Duke made an impatient gesture. "Come, make an end, " he said. 

Gamba fell back with a profound bow. 

"We do not ask the surrender of your Highness's person, " he said. 

"Not even that?" Odo returned with a faint sneer. 

Gamba flushed to the temples, but the retort died on his lips. 

"Your Highness, " he said, scarce above a whisper, "the gates areguarded; but the word for tonight is 'Humilitas. '" He knelt and kissedOdo's hand. Then he rose and passed out of the room... 

 * * * * *

Before dawn the Duke left the palace. The high emotions of the night hadebbed. He saw himself now, in the ironic light of morning, as a fugitivetoo harmless to be worth pursuing. His enemies had let him keep hissword because they had no cause to fear it. Alone he passed through thegardens of the palace, and out into the desert darkness of the streets. Skirting the wall of the Benedictine convent where Fulvia had lodged, hegained a street leading to the marketplace. In the pallor of the waningnight the ancient monuments of his race stood up mournful and desertedas a line of tombs. The city seemed a grave-yard and he the ineffectualghost of its dead past. He reached the gates and gave the watchword. Thegates were guarded, as he had been advised; but the captain of the watchlet him pass without show of hesitation or curiosity. Though he made noeffort at disguise he went forth unrecognised, and the city closed herdoors on him as carelessly as on any passing wanderer. 

Beyond the gates a lad from the ducal stables waited with a horse. Odosprang into the saddle and rode on toward Pontesordo. The darkness wasgrowing thinner, and the meagre details of the landscape, with itshuddled farm-houses and mulberry-orchards, began to define themselves ashe advanced. To his left the field stretched, grey and sodden; ahead, onhis right, hung the dark woods of the ducal chase. Presently a bend ofthe road brought him within sight of the keep of Pontesordo. His way ledpast it, toward Valsecca; but some obscure instinct laid a detaininghand on him, and at the cross-roads he bent to the right and rode acrossthe marshland to the old manor-house. 

The farmyard lay hushed and deserted. The peasants who lived there wouldsoon be afoot; but for the moment Odo had the place to himself. Hetethered his horse to a gate-post and walked across the roughcobble-stones to the chapel. Its floor was still heaped with farm-toolsand dried vegetables, and in the dimness a heavier veil of dust seemedto obscure the painted walls. Odo advanced, picking his way among brokenploughshares and stacks of maize, till he stood near the old marblealtar, with its sea-gods and acanthus volutes. The place laid itstranquillising hush on him, and he knelt on the step beneath the altar. Something stirred in him as he knelt there--a prayer, yet not aprayer--a reaching out, obscure and inarticulate, toward all that hadsurvived of his early hopes and faiths, a loosening of old founts ofpity, a longing to be somehow, somewhere reunited to his old belief inlife. 

How long he knelt he knew not; but when he looked up the chapel was fullof a pale light, and in the first shaft of the sunrise the face of SaintFrancis shone out on him... He went forth into the daybreak and rode awaytoward Piedmont.