THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 
 
 K 

 
 315p tlje game 
 
 TO LEEWARD. 
 
 A NOVEL. 
 
 i6mo, $1.25. 
 
 Mr. Crawford's new book is as clever in its way as its precursors, and, 
 indeed, displays a faculty of which they gave but faint indications, if any 
 that of writing aphorisms, almost epigrams, with a cynical flavor per 
 ceptible, though not dominating them. Rev. DR. R. F. LITTLEDALE, 
 Academy, London. 
 
 This is a story of absorbing interest. . . . From an artist's point of 
 view this story displays growth. Mr. Crawford's hand is firmer, his 
 touch more unfaltering and effective, his material simpler, than when 
 he captured us all by " Mr. Isaacs." The Week (Toronto). 
 
 Mr. Marion Crawford in his new novel "To Leeward" has achieved 
 his greatest success ; indeed, it is not too much to say that this work 
 takes a high place in the ranks of modern fiction. Vanity Fair (Lon 
 don). 
 
 The character painting of the story is admirable. Boston Gazette. 
 
 *** For sale by all Booksellers. Sent, post-paid, on receipt of price 
 by the Publishers, 
 
 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY, BOSTON, MASS.
 
 A ROMAN SINGER 
 
 F. MARION CRAWFORD 
 
 AUTHOR OF "MR. ISAACS," "DOCTOR CLAUDIUS," "TO LEEWARD" 
 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY 
 New York: 11 East Seventeenth Street 
 
 1884
 
 Copyright, 1883 and 1884, 
 BY HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. AND F. MARION CRAWFORD. 
 
 All rights reserved. 
 
 The Riverside Press, Cambridge : 
 Electrotyped and Printed by II. 0. Iloughton & Co.
 
 PS 
 
 |455 
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 I. 
 
 I, COENELIO GRANDI, who tell you these things, 
 have a story of my own, of which some of you are 
 not ignorant. You know, for one thing, that I was 
 not always poor, nor always a professor of philos 
 ophy, nor a scribbler of pedantic articles for a 
 living. Many of you can remember why I was 
 driven to sell my patrimony, the dear castello in 
 the Sabines, with the good corn-land and the vine 
 yards in the valley, and the olives, too. For I am 
 not old yet ; at least, Mariuccia is older, as I often 
 tell her. These are queer times. It was not any 
 fault of mine. But now that Nino is growing to be 
 a famous man in the world, and people are saying 
 good things and bad about him, and many say that 
 he did wrong in this matter, I think it best to tell 
 you all the whole truth and what I think of it. 
 For Nino is just like a son to me ; I brought him 
 up from a little child, and taught him Latin, and 
 would have made a philosopher of him. What 
 could I do ? He had so much voice that he did 
 not know what to do with it.
 
 4 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 His mother used to sing. What a piece of a 
 woman she was ! She had a voice like a man's, 
 and when De Pretis brought his singers to the 
 festa once upon a time, when I was young, he heard 
 her far down below, as we walked on the terrace 
 of the palazzo, and asked me if I would not let him 
 educate that young tenor. And when I told him it 
 was one of the contadine, the wife of a tenant of 
 mine, he would not believe it. But I never heard 
 her sing after Serafino that was her husband 
 was killed at the fair in Genazzano. And one day 
 the fevers took her, and so she died, leaving Nino a 
 little baby. Then you know what happened to me, 
 about that time, and how I sold Castel Serveti and 
 came to live here in Rome. Nino was brought to 
 me here. One day in the autumn, a carrettiere 
 from Serveti, who would sometimes stop at my 
 door and leave me a basket of grapes in the vin 
 tage, or a pitcher of fresh oil in winter, because he 
 never used to pay his house-rent when I was his 
 landlord but he is a good fellow, Gigi and so 
 he tries to make amends now ; well, as I was say 
 ing, he came one day and gave me a great basket 
 of fine grapes, and he brought Nino with him, a lit 
 tle boy of scarce six years just to show him to 
 me, he said. 
 
 He was an ugly little boy, with a hat of no par 
 ticular shape and a dirty fece. He had great black 
 eyes, with ink-saucers under them, calamai, as we 
 say, just as he has now. Only the eyes are bigger 
 now, and the circles deeper. But he is still suffi-
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 5 
 
 ciently ugly. If it were not for his figure, which is 
 pretty good, he could never have made a fortune 
 with his voice. De Pretis says he could, but I do 
 not believe it. 
 
 Well, I made Gigi come in with Nino, and 
 Mariuccia made them each a great slice of toasted 
 bread and spread it with oil, and gave Gigi a glass 
 of the Serveti wine, and little Nino had some with 
 water. And Mariuccia begged to have the child 
 left with her till Gigi went back the next day ; for 
 she is fond of children and comes from Serveti 
 herself. And that is how Nino came to live with 
 us. That old woman has 110 principles of economy, 
 and she likes children. 
 
 " What does a little creature like that eat ? " 
 said she. " A bit of bread, a little soup macche ! 
 You will never notice it, I tell you. And the poor 
 thing has been living on charity. Just imagine 
 whether you are not quite as able to feed him as 
 Gigi is ! " So she persuaded me. But at first I did 
 it to please her, for I told her our proverb, which 
 says there can be nothing so untidy about a house 
 as children and chickens. He was such a dirty 
 little boy, with only one shoe and a battered hat, 
 and he was always singing at the top of his voice 
 and throwing things into the well in the cortile. 
 
 Mariuccia can read a little, though I never be 
 lieved it until I found her one day teaching Nino 
 his letters out of the Vite dei Santi. That was 
 probably the first time that her reading was ever of 
 any use to her, and the last, for I think she knows
 
 6 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 the Lives of the Saints by heart, and she will cer 
 tainly not venture to read a new book at her age. 
 However, Nino very soon learned to know as much 
 as she, and she will always be able to say that she 
 laid the foundation of his education. He soon 
 forgot to throw handfuls of mud into the well, and 
 Mariuccia washed him, and I bought him a pair of 
 shoes, and we made him look very decent. After 
 a time he did not even remember to pull the cat's 
 tail in the morning, so as to make her sing with 
 him, as he said. When Mariuccia went to church 
 she would take him with her, and he seemed very 
 fond of going, so that I asked him one day if he 
 would like to be a priest when he grew up, and 
 wear beautiful robes and have pretty little boys to 
 wait on him with censers in their hands. 
 
 " No," said the little urchin, stoutly, " I won't 
 be a priest." He found in his pocket a roast 
 chestnut Mariuccia had given him, and began to 
 shell it. 
 
 " Why are you always so fond of going to church, 
 then?" Tasked. 
 
 "If I were a big man," quoth he, "but really 
 big, I would sing in church, like Maestro de 
 Pretis." 
 
 " What would you sing, Nino ? " said I, laughing. 
 He looked very grave and got a piece of brown 
 paper and folded it up. Then he began to beat 
 time on my knees and sang out boldly, Cornu ejus 
 exaltabitur. 
 
 It was enough to make one laugh, for he was
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 7 
 
 only seven years old, and ugly too. But Mariuccia, 
 who was knitting in the hall-way, called out that 
 it was just what Maestro Ercole had sung the day 
 before at vespers, every syllable. 
 
 I have an old piano in my sitting-room. It is a 
 masterpiece of an instrument, I can tell you ; for 
 one of the legs is gone and I propped it up with 
 two empty boxes, and the keys are all black except 
 those that have lost the ivory, and those are 
 green. It has also five pedals, disposed as a harp 
 underneath ; but none of them make any impres 
 sion on the sound, except the middle one, which 
 rings a bell. The sound-board has a crack in it 
 somewhere, Nino says, and two of the notes are 
 dumb since the great German maestro came home 
 with my boy one night, and insisted on playing 
 an accompaniment after supper. We had stewed 
 chickens and a flask of Cesanese, I remember, and 
 I knew something would happen to the piano. But 
 Nino would never have any other, for De Pretis has 
 a very good one ; and Nino studies without any 
 thing just a common tuning fork that he car 
 ries in his pocket. But the old piano was the be 
 ginning of his fame. He got into the sitting-room 
 one day, by himself, and found out that he could 
 make a noise by striking the keys, and then he dis 
 covered that he could make tunes, and pick out the 
 ones that were always ringing in his head. After 
 that he could hardly be dragged away from it, so 
 that I sent him to school to have some quiet in the 
 house.
 
 8 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 He was a clever boy, and I taught him Latin and 
 gave him our poets to read ; and as he grew up I 
 would have made a scholar of him, but he would 
 not. At least, he was always willing to learn and 
 to read ; but he was always singing, too. Once I 
 caught him declaiming " Arma virumque cano " to 
 an air from the Trovatore, and knew he could 
 never be a scholar then, though he might know a 
 great deal. Besides, he always preferred Dante to 
 Virgil, and Leopardi to Horace. 
 
 One day, when he was sixteen or thereabouts, he 
 was making a noise, as usual, shouting some motive 
 or other to Mariuccia and the cat, while I was 
 laboring to collect my senses over a lecture I had to 
 prepare. Suddenly his voice cracked horribly and 
 his singing ended in a sort of groan. It hap 
 pened again once or twice, the next day, and then 
 the house was quiet. I found him at night asleep 
 over the old piano, his eyes all wet with tears. 
 
 "What is the matter, Nino?" I asked. "It is 
 time for youngsters like you to be in bed." 
 
 "Ah, Messer Cornelio," he said, when he was 
 awake, " I had better go to bed, as you say. I shall 
 never sing again, for my voice is all broken to 
 pieces ; " and he sobbed bitterly. 
 
 " The saints be praised," thought I ; " I shall 
 make a philosopher of you yet ! " 
 
 But he would not be comforted, and for several 
 months he went about as if he were trying to find 
 the moon, as we say ; and though he read his books 
 and made progress, he was always sad and wretched,
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. . 9 
 
 and grew much thinner, so that Mariuccia said he 
 was consuming himself, and I thought he must be 
 in love. But the house was very quiet. 
 
 I thought as he did, that he would never sing 
 again, but I never talked to him about it, lest he 
 should try, now that he was as quiet as a nightin 
 gale with its tongue cut out. But nature meant 
 differently, I suppose. One day De Pretis came to 
 see me ; it must have been near the new year, for 
 he never came often at that time. It was only a 
 friendly recollection of the days when I had a cas- 
 tello and a church of my own at Serveti, and used 
 to have him come from Rome to sing at the festa, 
 and he came every year to see me ; and his head 
 grew bald as mine grew gray, so that at last he 
 wears a black skull cap everywhere, like a priest, 
 and only takes it off when he sings the Gloria Patri, 
 or at the Elevation. However, he came to see me, 
 and Nino sat mutely by, as we smoked a little and 
 drank the syrup of violets with water that Mariuccia 
 brought us. It was one of her external extrava 
 gances, but somehow, though she never understood 
 the value of economy, my professorship brought in 
 more than enough for us, and it was not long after 
 this that I began to buy the bit of vineyard out of 
 Porta Salara, by installments from my savings. 
 And since then, we have our own wine. 
 
 De Pretis was talking to me about a new opera 
 that he had heard. He never sang except in church, 
 of course, but he used to go to the theatre of an 
 evening ; so it was quite natural that he should go
 
 10 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 to the piano and begin to sing a snatch of the tenor 
 air to me, explaining the situation as he went along, 
 between his singing. 
 
 Nino could not sit still, and went and leaned over 
 Sor Ercole, as we call the maestro, hanging on the 
 notes, not daring to try and sing, for he had lost his 
 voice, but making the words with his lips. 
 
 " Dio mio ! " he cried at last, " how I wish I could 
 sing that ! " 
 
 " Try it," said De Pretis, laughing and half in 
 terested by the boy's earnest look. " Try it I 
 will sing it again." But Nino's face fell. 
 
 " It is no use," he said. " My voice is all broken 
 to pieces now, because I sang too much before." 
 
 " Perhaps it will come back," said the musician 
 kindly, seeing the tears in the young fellow's 63^68. 
 " See, we will try a scale." He struck a chord. 
 " Now, open your mouth so Do-o-o-o ! " He 
 sang a long note. Nino could not resist any longer, 
 whether he had any voice or not. He blushed red 
 and turned away, but he opened his mouth and 
 made a sound. 
 
 " Do-o-o-o ! " He sang like the master, but much 
 weaker. 
 
 " Not so bad ; now the next, Re-e-e ! " Nino fol 
 lowed him. And so on, up the scale. 
 
 After a few more notes, De Pretis ceased to smile, 
 and cried, " Go on, go on ! " after every note, au 
 thoritatively, and in quite a different manner from 
 his first kindly encouragement. Nino, who had not 
 sung for months, took courage and a long breath,
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 11 
 
 and went on as he was bid, his voice gaining volume 
 and clearness as he sang higher. Then De Pretis 
 stopped and looked at him earnestly. 
 
 " You are mad," he said. " You have not lost 
 your voice at all." 
 
 " It was quite different when I used to sing be 
 fore," said the boy. 
 
 " Per Bacco, I should think so," said the maestro. 
 " Your voice has changed. Sing something, can't 
 
 you?" 
 
 Nino sang a church air he had caught some 
 where. 1 never heard such a voice, but it gave me 
 a queer sensation that I liked it was so true, and 
 young, and clear. De Pretis sat open-mouthed with 
 astonishment and admiration. When the boy had 
 finished, he stood looking at the maestro, blushing 
 very scarlet, and altogether ashamed of himself. 
 The other did not speak. 
 
 " Excuse me," said Nino, " I cannot sing. I 
 have not sung for a long time. I know it is not 
 worth anything." De Pretis recovered himself. 
 
 " You do not sing," said he, " because you have 
 not learned. But you can. If you will let me 
 teach you, I will do it for nothing." 
 
 " Me ! " screamed Nino, " you teach me ! Ah, if 
 it were any use if you only would ! " 
 
 " Any use ? " repeated De Pretis half aloud, as 
 he bit his long black cigar half through in his ex 
 citement. " Any use ? My dear boy, do you know 
 that you have a very good voice ? A remarkable 
 voice," he continued, carried away by his admira-
 
 12 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 tion, " such a voice as I have never heard. You 
 can be the first tenor of your age, if you please 
 in three years you will sing anything you like, 
 and go to London and Paris, and be a great man. 
 Leave it to me." 
 
 I protested that it was all nonsense, that Nino 
 was meant for a scholar and not for the stage, and 
 I was quite angry with De Pretis for putting such 
 ideas into the boy's head. But it was of no use. 
 You cannot argue with women and singers, and 
 they always get their own way in the end. And 
 whether I liked it or not, Nino began to go to Sor 
 Ercole's house once or twice a week, and sang scales 
 and exercises very patiently, and copied music in 
 the evening, because he said he would not be de 
 pendent on me, since he could not follow my wishes 
 in choosing a profession. De Pretis did not praise 
 him much to his face after they had begun to study, 
 but he felt sure he would succeed. 
 
 "Caro Conte," he often calls me Count, though 
 I am only plain Professore, now " he has a voice 
 like a trumpet, and the patience of all the angels. 
 He will be a great singer." 
 
 "Well, it is not my fault," I used to answer; 
 for what could I do ? 
 
 When you see Nino now, you cannot imagine 
 that he was ever a dirty little boy from the moun 
 tains, with one shoe, and that infamous little hat. 
 I think he is ugly still, though you do not think so 
 when he is singing, and he has good strong limbs 
 and broad shoulders, and carries himself like a sol-
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 13 
 
 dier. Besides, he is always very well dressed, 
 though he has no affectations. He does not wear 
 his hair plastered into a love lock 011 his forehead, 
 like some of our dandies, nor is he eternally pull 
 ing a pair of monstrous white cuffs over his hands. 
 Everything is very neat about him, and very quiet, 
 so that you would hardly think he was an artist 
 after all; and he talks but little, though he can 
 talk very well when he likes, for he has not forgot 
 ten his Dante nor his Leopardi. De Pretis says 
 the reason he sings so well is because he has a 
 mouth like the slit in an organ pipe, as wide as a 
 letter-box at the post-office. But I think he has 
 succeeded because he has great square jaws like 
 Napoleon. People like that always succeed. My 
 jaw is small, and my chin is pointed under my 
 beard but then, with the beard no one can see 
 it. But Mariuccia knows. 
 
 Nino is a thoroughly good boy, and until a year 
 ago he never cared for anything but his art ; and 
 now he cares for something, I think, a great deal 
 better than art, even than art like his. But he is 
 a singer still, and always will be, for he has an iron 
 throat, and never was hoarse in his life. All those 
 years when he was growing up, he never had a love- 
 scrape, or owed money, or wasted his time in the 
 caffe. 
 
 " Take care," Mariuccia used to say to me, " if 
 he ever takes a fancy to some girl with blue eyes 
 and fair hair, he will be perfectly crazy. Ah, Sor 
 Conte, she had blue eyes, and her hair was like the
 
 14 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 corn-silk. How many years is that, Sor Conte 
 mio?" Mariuccia is an old witch. 
 
 I am writing this story to tell you why Mariuc 
 cia is a witch, and why my Nino, who never so much 
 as looked at the beauties of the generone, as they 
 came with their fathers and brothers and mothers 
 to eat ice-cream in the Piazza Colonna, and listen 
 to the music of a summer's evening, Nino, who 
 stared absently at the great ladies as they rolled 
 over the Pincio in their carriages, and was whist 
 ling airs to himself for practice when he strolled 
 along the Corso, instead of looking out for pretty 
 faces, Nino, the cold in all things save in mu 
 sic, why he fulfilled Mariuccia' s prophecy, little by 
 little, and became perfectly crazy about blue eyes 
 and fair hair. That is what I am going to tell 
 you, if you have the leisure to listen. And you 
 ought to know it, because evil tongues are more 
 plentiful than good voices in Rome, as elsewhere, 
 and people are saying many spiteful things about 
 him, though they clap loudly enough at the the 
 atre when he sings. 
 
 He is like a son to me, and perhaps I am recon 
 ciled, after all, to his not having become a philoso 
 pher. He would never have been so famous as he 
 is now, and he really knows so much more than 
 Maestro De Pretis in other ways than music 
 that he is very presentable indeed. What is blood, 
 nowadays ? What difference does it make to so 
 ciety whether Nino Cardegna, the tenor, was the 
 son of a vine-dresser ? Or what does the University
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 15 
 
 care for the fact that I, Cornelio Grandi, am the 
 last of a race as old as the Colomias, and quite as 
 honorable ? What does Mariuccia care ? What 
 does anybody care ? Corpo di Bacco ! if we begin 
 talking 1 of race we shall waste as much time as 
 
 O 
 
 would make us all great celebrities ! I am not a 
 celebrity I never shall be now, for a man must 
 begin at that trade young. It is a profession be 
 ing celebrated and it has its signal advantages. 
 Nino will tell you so, and he has tried it. But one 
 must begin young, very young! I cannot begin 
 again. 
 
 And then, as you all know, I never began at all. 
 I took up life in the middle, and am trying hard to 
 twist a rope of which I never held the other end. 
 I feel sometimes as though it must be the life of 
 another that I have taken, leaving my own unfin 
 ished, for I was never meant to be a professor. 
 That is the way of it ; and if I am sad and inclined 
 to melancholy humors, it is because I miss my old 
 self, and he seems to have left me without even a 
 kindly word at parting. I was fond of my old self. 
 But I did not respect him much. And my present 
 self I respect, without fondness. Is that meta 
 physics ? Who knows ? It is vanity in either 
 case, and the vanity of self-respect is perhaps a 
 more dangerous thing than the vanity of self-love, 
 though you may call it pride if you like, or give it 
 any other high-sounding title. But the heart of 
 the vain man is lighter than the heart of the proud. 
 ^Probably Nino has always had much self-respect,
 
 16 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 but I doubt if it has made him very happy 
 until lately. True, he has genius, and does what 
 he must by nature do or die, whereas I have not 
 even talent, and I make myself do for a living what 
 I can never do well. What does it serve, to make 
 comparisons ? I could never have been like Nino, 
 though I believe half my pleasure of late has been 
 in fancying how I should feel in his place, and liv 
 ing through his triumphs by my imagination. Nino 
 began at the very beginning, and when all his cap 
 ital was one shoe and a ragged hat, and certainly 
 not more than a third of a shirt, he said he would 
 be a great singer ; and he is, though he is scarcely 
 of age yet. I wish it had been something else than 
 a singer, but since he is the first already, it was 
 worth while. He would have been great in any 
 thing, though, for he has such a square jaw, and 
 he looks so fierce when anything needs to be over 
 come. Our forefathers must have* looked like that, 
 with their broad eagle noses and iron mouths. 
 They began at the beginning, too, and they went 
 to the very end. I wish Nino had been a gen 
 eral, or a statesman, or a cardinal, or all three, like 
 Richelieu. 
 
 But you want to hear of Nino, and you can pass 
 on your ways, all of you, without hearing my reflec 
 tions and small-talk about goodness, and success, 
 and the like. Moreover, since I respect myself 
 now, I must not find so much fault with my own 
 doings, or you will say that I am in my dotage. 
 And, truly, Nino Cardegna is a better man, for all
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 17 
 
 his peasant blood, than I ever was ; a better lover, 
 and perhaps a better hater. There is his guitar, 
 that he always leaves here, and it reminds me of 
 him and his ways. Fourteen years he lived here 
 with me, from child to boy and from boy to man, 
 and now he is gone, never to live here any more. 
 The end of it will be that I shall go and live with 
 him, and Mariuccia will take her cat and her knit 
 ting, and her Lives of the Saints back to Serveti, 
 to end her life in peace, where there are no profes 
 sors and no singers. For Mariuccia is older than 
 I am, and she will die before me. At all events, 
 she will take her tongue with her, and ruin herself 
 at her convenience without ruining me. I wonder 
 what life would be, without Mariuccia ? Would 
 anybody darn my stockings, or save the peel of the 
 mandarins to make cordial ? I certainly would not 
 have the mandarins, if she were gone it is a lux 
 ury. No, I would not have them. But then, there 
 would be no cordial, and I should have to buy new 
 stockings every year or two. No, the mandarins 
 cost less than the stockings and well, I sup 
 pose I am fond of Mariuccia. 
 2
 
 II. 
 
 IT was really not so long ago only one year. 
 The scirocco was blowing up and down the streets, 
 and about the corners, with its sickening blast, mak 
 ing us all feel like dead people, and hiding away the 
 sun from us. It is no use trying to do anything 
 when it blows scirocco, at least for us who are born 
 here. But I had been persuaded to go with Nino 
 to the house of Sor Ercole to hear my boy sing the 
 opera he had last studied, and so I put my cloak 
 over my shoulders, and wrapped its folds over my 
 breast, and covered my mouth, and we went out. 
 For it was a cold scirocco, bringing showers of 
 tepid rain from the south, and the drops seemed to 
 chill themselves as they fell. One moment you are 
 in danger of being too cold, and the next minute 
 the perspiration stands on your forehead, and you 
 are oppressed with a moist heat. Like the prophet, 
 when it blows a real scirocco you feel as if you were 
 poured out like water, and all your bones were out 
 of joint. Foreigners do not feel it until they have 
 lived with us a few years, but Romans are like dead 
 men when the wind is in that quarter. 
 
 I went to the maestro's house and sat for two 
 hours listening to the singing. Nino sang very 
 creditably, I thought, but I allow that I was not as
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 19 
 
 attentive as I might have been, for I was chilled 
 and uncomfortable. Nevertheless, I tried to be very 
 appreciative, and I complimented the boy on the 
 great progress he had made. When I thought of it, 
 it struck me that I had never heard anybody sing 
 like that before, but still there was something lack 
 ing ; I thought it sounded a little unreal, and I said 
 to myself that he would get admiration, but never 
 any sympathy. So clear, so true, so rich ,it was, 
 but wanting a ring to it, the little thrill that goes 
 to the heart. He sings very differently now. 
 
 Maestro Ercole de Pretis lives in the Via Paola, 
 close to the Ponte Sant' Angelo, in a most decent 
 little house that is, of course, on a floor of a 
 house, as we all do. But De Pretis is well to do, 
 and he has a marble door-plate, engraved in black 
 with his name, and two sitting-rooms. They are 
 not very large rooms, it is true, but in one of them 
 he gives his lessons, and the grand piano fills it up 
 entirely, so that you can only sit on the little black 
 horsehair sofa at the end, and it is very hard to 
 get past the piano on either side. Ercole is as 
 broad as he is long, and takes snuff when he is not 
 smoking. But it never hurts his voice. 
 
 It was Sunday, I remember, for he had to sing 
 in St. Peter's in the afternoon ; and it was so near, 
 we walked over with him. Nino had never lost his 
 love for church music, though he had made up his 
 mind that it was a much finer thing to be a primo 
 tenore assoluto at the Apollo Theatre than to sing 
 in the Pope's choir for thirty scudi a month. We
 
 20 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 walked along over the bridge, and through the 
 Borgo Nuovo, and across the Piazza Rusticucci, and 
 then we skirted the colonnade oil the left, and en 
 tered the church by the sacristy, leaving De Pretis 
 there to put on his purple cassock and his white 
 cotta. Then we went into the Capella del Coro to 
 wait for the vespers. 
 
 All sorts of people go to St. Peter's on Sunday 
 afternoon, but they are mostly foreigners, and bring 
 strange little folding chairs, and arrange themselves 
 to listen to the music as though it were a concert. 
 Now and then one of the young gentlemen-in-wait- 
 ing from the Vatican strolls in and says his prayers, 
 and there is an old woman, very ragged and mis 
 erable, who has haunted the chapel of the choir for 
 many years, and sits with perfect unconcern, tell 
 ing her beads at the foot of the great reading-desk 
 that stands out in the middle and is never used. 
 Great ladies crowd in through the gate when Rai- 
 mondi's hymn is to be sung, and disreputable ar 
 tists make sketches surreptitiously during the ben 
 ediction without the slightest pretense at any de 
 votion that I can see. The lights shine out more 
 brightly as the day wanes, and the incense curls up 
 as the little boys swing the censers, and the priests 
 and canons chant, and the choir answers from the 
 organ loft ; and the crowd looks on, some saying 
 their prayers, some pretending to, and some look 
 ing about for the friend or lover they have come to 
 meet. 
 
 That evening when we went over together, I
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 21 
 
 found myself pushed against a tall man with an im 
 mense gray mustache standing out across his face 
 like the horns of a beetle. He looked down on 
 me from time to time, and when I apologized for 
 crowding him his face flushed a little, and he tried 
 to bow as well as he could in the press, and said 
 something with a German accent which seemed to 
 be courteous. But I was separated from Nino by 
 him. Maestro Ercole sang, and all the others, turn 
 and turn about, and so at last it came to the ben 
 ediction. The tall old foreigner stood erect and 
 unbending, but most of the people around him, 
 kneeled. As the crowd sank down, I saw that on 
 the other side of him sat a lady on a small folding 
 stool, her feet crossed one over the other, and her 
 hands folded on her knees. She was dressed en 
 tirely in black, and her fair face stood out wonder 
 fully clear and bright against the darkness. Truly 
 she looked more like an angel than a woman, 
 though perhaps you will think she is not so beau 
 tiful after all, for she is so unlike our Roman la 
 dies. She has a delicate nose, full of sentiment, 
 and pointed a little downward for pride ; she has 
 deep blue eyes, wide apart and dreamy, and a 
 little shaded by brows that are quite level and 
 even, with a straight penciling over them, that 
 looks really as if it were painted. Her lips are 
 very red and gentle, and her face is very white, so 
 that the little ringlet that has escaped control looks 
 like a gold tracery on a white marble ground. 
 And there she sat, with the last light from the
 
 22 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 tall windows and the first from the great wax can 
 dles shining on her, while all around seemed dark 
 by contrast. She Booked like an angel ; and quite 
 as cold, perhaps most of you would say. Diamonds 
 are cold things, too, but they shine in the dark; 
 whereas a bit of glass just lets the light through 
 it, even if it is colored red and green and put in a 
 church window, and looks ever so much warmer 
 than the diamond. 
 
 But though I saw her beauty and the light of 
 her face, all in a moment, as though it had been a 
 dream, I saw Nino too ; for I had missed him, and 
 had supposed he had gone to the organ loft with 
 De Pretis. But now, as the people kneeled to the 
 benediction, imagine a little what he did ! he just 
 dropped on his knees with his face to the white 
 lady, and his back to the procession ; it was really 
 disgraceful, and if it had been lighter I am sure 
 every one would have noticed it. At all events, 
 there he knelt, not three feet from the lady, looking 
 at her as if his heart would break. But I do not 
 believe she saw him, for she never looked his way. 
 Afterwards everybody got up again, and we hurried 
 to get out of the chapel ; but I noticed that the tall 
 old foreigner gave his arm to the beautiful lady, 
 and when they had pushed their way through the 
 gate that leads into the body of the church, they 
 did not go away, but stood aside for the crowd to 
 pass. Nino said he would wait for De Pretis, and 
 immediately turned his whole attention to the for 
 eign girl, hiding himself in the shadow and never 
 taking his eyes from her.
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 23 
 
 I never saw Nino look at a woman before as 
 though she interested him in the least, or I would 
 not have been surprised now to see him lost in ad 
 miration of the fair girl. I was close to him and 
 could see his face, and it had a new expression on 
 it that I did not know. The people were almost 
 gone, and the lights were being extinguished when 
 De Pretis came round the corner, looking for us. 
 But I was astonished to see him bow low to the 
 foreigner and the young lady, and then stop and 
 enter into conversation with them. They spoke 
 quite audibly, and it was about a lesson that the 
 young lady had missed. She spoke like a Roman, 
 but the old gentleman made himself understood in 
 a series of stiff phrases, which he fired out of his 
 mouth like discharges of musketry. 
 
 " Who are they ? " whispered Nino to me, breath 
 less with excitement, and trembling from head to 
 foot. " Who are they, and how does the maestro 
 know them ? " 
 
 " Eh, caro mio, what am I to know ? " I an 
 swered, indifferently. " They are some foreigners^ 
 some pupil of De Pretis, and her father. Plow 
 should I know ? " 
 
 " She is a Roman," said Nino between his teeth. 
 " I have heard foreigners talk. The old man is a 
 foreigner, but she she is Roman," he repeated 
 with certainty. 
 
 " Eh," said I, " for my part she may be Chinese. 
 The stars will not fall on that account." You see, 
 I thought he had seen her before, and I wanted to
 
 24 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 exasperate him by my indifference so that he should 
 tell me ; but he would not, and indeed I found 
 out afterwards that he had really never seen her 
 before. 
 
 Presently the lady and gentleman went away, 
 and we called De Pretis, for he could not see us 
 in the gloom. Nino became very confidential, and 
 linked an arm in his as we went away. 
 
 " "Who are they, caro maestro, these enchanting 
 people ? " inquired the boy when they had gone a 
 few steps, and I was walking by Nino's side, and 
 we were all three nearing the door. 
 
 " Foreigners, my foreigners," returned the 
 singer, proudly, as he took a colossal pinch of 
 snuff. He seemed to say that he in his profes 
 sion was constantly thrown with people like that, 
 whereas I oh, I, of course, was always occupied 
 with students and poor devils who had no voice, 
 nothing but brains. 
 
 " But she," objected Nino, " she is Roman, I 
 am sure of it." 
 
 " Eh," said Ercole, " you know how it is. These 
 foreigners marry and come here and live, and their 
 children are born here ; and they grow up and 
 call themselves Romans, as proudly as you please. 
 But they are not really Italians, any more than the 
 Shah of Persia." The maestro smiled a pitying 
 smile. He is a Roman of Rome, and his great 
 nose scorns pretenders. In his view Piedmontese, 
 Tuscans, and Neapolitans are as much foreigners as 
 the Germans or the English. More so, for he likes
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 25 
 
 the Germans and tolerates the English, but he can 
 call an enemy by no worse name than " Napole- 
 tano " or " Piemontese." 
 
 " Then they live here?" cried Nino in delight. 
 
 " Surely." 
 
 "In fine, maestro mio, who are they?" 
 
 " What a diavolo of a boy ! Dio mio ! " and 
 Ercole laughed under his big mustache, which is 
 black still. But he is bald, all the same, and wears 
 a skull-cap. 
 
 "Diavolo as much as you please, but I will 
 know," said Nino sullenly. 
 
 " Oh bene ! Now do not disquiet yourself, Nino 
 I will tell you all about them. She is a pupil 
 of mine, and I go to their house in the Corso and 
 give her lessons." 
 
 " And then? " asked Nino impatiently. 
 
 " Who goes slowly goes surely," said the maestro 
 sententiously ; and he stopped to light a cigar as 
 black and twisted as his mustache. Then he con- 
 tinued, standing still in the middle of the piazza to 
 talk at his ease, for it had stopped raining and the 
 air was moist and sultry, " They are Prussians, you 
 must know. The old man is a colonel, retired, pen 
 sioned, everything you like, wounded at Koniggratz 
 by the Austrians. His wife was delicate, and he 
 brought her to live here long before he left the ser 
 vice, and the signorina was born here. He has told 
 me about it, and he taught me to pronounce the 
 name Koniggratz, so Conigherazzo," said the 
 maestro proudly, "and that is how I know."
 
 26 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 " Capperi ! What a mouthful ! " said I. 
 
 " You may well say that, Sor Conte, but singing 
 teaches us all languages. You would have found it 
 of great use in your studies." I pictured to myself 
 a quarter of an hour of Schopenhauer, with a piano 
 accompaniment and some one beating time. 
 
 " But their name, their name I want to know," 
 objected Nino, as he stepped aside and flattened 
 himself against the pillar to let a carriage pass. 
 As luck would have it, the old officer and his 
 daughter were in that very cab, and Nino could 
 just make them out by the evening twilight. He 
 took off his hat, of course, but I am quite sure 
 they did not see him. 
 
 "Well, their name is prettier than Conighe- 
 razzo," said Ercole. "It is Lira Erre Gheraffe 
 fonne Lira." (Herr Graf von Lira, I suppose he 
 meant. And he has the impudence to assert that 
 singing has taught him to pronounce German.) 
 " And that means," he continued, " II Conte di 
 Lira, as we should say." 
 
 " Ah ! what a divine appellation ! " exclaimed 
 Nino enthusiastically, pulling his hat over his eyes 
 to meditate upon the name at his leisure. 
 
 " And her name is Edvigia," volunteered the 
 maestro. That is the Italian for Hedwig, or Had- 
 wig, you know. But we should shorten it and call 
 her Gigia, just as though she were Luisa. Nino 
 does not think it so pretty. Nino was silent. 
 Perhaps he was already shy of repeating the 
 familiar name of the first woman he had ever
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 27 
 
 loved. Imagine ! At twenty he had never been 
 in love ! It is incredible to me, and one of 
 our own people, too, born at Serveti. 
 
 Meanwhile the maestro's cigar had gone out, 
 and he lit it with a blazing sulphur match, before 
 he continued ; and we all walked on again. I re 
 member it all very distinctly, because it was the 
 beginning of Nino's madness. Especially I call to 
 mind his expression of indifference when Ercole 
 began to descant upon the worldly possessions of 
 the Lira household. It seemed to me that if Nino 
 so seriously cast his eyes on the Contessina Edvigia 
 he might at least have looked pleased to hear she 
 was so rich : or he might have looked disappointed, 
 if he thought that her position was an obstacle in 
 his way. But he did not care about it at all, and 
 walked straight on, humming a little tune through 
 his nose with his mouth shut, for he does every 
 thing to a tune. 
 
 " They are certainly gran' signori," Ercole said. 
 " They live on the first floor of the Palazzo Car- 
 mandola, you know, in the Corso, and they 
 have a carriage, and keep two men in livery, just 
 like a Roman prince. Besides, the count once sent 
 me a bottle of wine at Christmas. It was as weak 
 as water, and tasted like the solfatara of Tivoli, 
 but it came from his own vineyard in Germany, 
 and was at least fifty years old. If he has a vine 
 yard, he has a castello, of course. And if he has a 
 castello, he is a gran' signore, eh ? what do you 
 think, Sor Conte ? You know about such things." 
 
 VI-
 
 28 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 " I did once, maestro mio. It is very likely." 
 
 " And as for the wine being sour, it was because 
 it was so old. I am sure the Germans cannot make 
 wine well. They are not used to drinking it good, 
 or they would not drink so much when they come 
 here." We were crossing the bridge, and nearing 
 Ercole's house.. 
 
 " Maestro," said Nino, suddenly. He had not 
 spoken for some time, and he had finished his tune. 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " Is not to-morrow our day for studying ? " 
 
 " Diavolo ! I gave you two hours to-day. Have 
 you forgotten ? " 
 
 " Ah, it is true. But give me a lesson to 
 morrow, like a good maestro as you are. I will 
 sing like an angel, if you will give me a lesson to 
 morrow." 
 
 " Well, if you like to come at seven in the morn 
 ing, and if you promise to sing nothing but sol 
 feggi of Bordogni for an hour, and not to strain 
 your voice, or put too much vinegar in your salad 
 at supper, I will think about it. Does that please 
 you ? Conte, don't let him eat too much vinegar." 
 
 " I will do all that, if I may come," said Nino, 
 readily, though he would rather not sing at all, at 
 most times, than sing Bordogni, De Pretis tells me. 
 
 " Meglio cosi, so much the better. Good-night, 
 Sor Conte. Good-night, Nino." And so he turned 
 down the Via Paola, and Nino and I went our way. 
 I stopped to buy a cigar at the little tobacco shop 
 just opposite the Tordinona Theatre. They used
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 29 
 
 to be only a baiocco apiece, and I could get one at 
 a time. But now they are two for three baiocchi ; 
 and so I have to get two always, because there 
 are no half baiocchi any more nothing but cen 
 times. That is one of the sources of my extrava 
 gance. Mariuccia says I am miserly ; she was born 
 poor, and never had to learn the principles of econ 
 omy. 
 
 " Nino mio," I said, as we went along, " you 
 really make me laugh." 
 
 " Which is to say " He was humming a tune 
 again, and was cross because I interrupted him. 
 
 " You are in love. Do not deny it. You are 
 already planning how you can make the acquain 
 tance of the foreign contessa. You are a fool. Go 
 home, and get Mariuccia to give you some syrup 
 of tamarind to cool your blood." 
 
 " Well ? Now tell me, were you never in love 
 with any one yourself ? " he asked, by way of an 
 swer ; and I could see the fierce look come into his 
 eyes in the dark, as he said it. 
 
 " Altro, that is why I laugh at you. When 
 I was your age I had been in love twenty times. 
 But I never fell in love at first sight and with 
 a doll ; really a wax doll, you know, like the Ma 
 donna in the presepio that they set up at the Ara 
 Coali, at Epiphany." 
 
 " A doll ! " he cried. " Who is a doll, if you 
 please ? " We stopped at the corner of the street 
 to argue it out. 
 
 " Do you think she is really alive ? " I asked,
 
 30 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 laughing. Nino disdained to answer me, but he 
 looked savagely from under the brim of his hat. 
 " Look here," I continued, " women like that are 
 only made to be looked at. They never love, for 
 they have no hearts. It is lucky if they have souls, 
 like Christians." 
 
 " I will tell you what I think," said he stoutly ; 
 " she is an angel." 
 
 " Oh ! is that all ? Did you ever hear of an 
 angel being married ? " 
 
 " You shall hear of it, Sor Cornelio, and before 
 long. I swear to you, here, that I will marry the 
 Contessina di Lira if that is her name before 
 two years are out. Ah, you do not believe me. 
 Very well. I have nothing more to say." 
 
 " My dear son," said I, for he is a son to me, 
 " you are talking nonsense. How can anybody 
 in your position hope to marry a great lady, who 
 is an heiress ? Is it not true that it is all stuff and 
 nonsense ? " 
 
 " No, it is not true," cried Nino, setting his 
 square jaw like a bit and speaking through his 
 teeth. " I am ugly, you say ; I am dark, and I 
 have no position, or wealth, or anything of the 
 kind. I am the son of a peasant and of a peasant's 
 wife. I am anything you please, but I will marry 
 her if I say I will. Do you think it is for nothing 
 that you have taught me the language of Dante, 
 of Petrarca, of Silvio Pellico ? Do you think it is 
 for nothing that Heaven has given me my voice? 
 Do not the angels love music, and cannot I make
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 31 
 
 as good songs as they ? Or do you think that be 
 cause I am bred a singer my hand is not as strong 
 as a fine gentleman's contadino as I am ? I will 
 I will and I will, Basta ! " 
 
 I never saw him look like that before. He had 
 folded his arms, and he nodded his head a little at 
 each repetition of the word, looking at me so hard, 
 as we stood under the gas lamp in the street, that 
 I was obliged to turn my eyes away. He stared 
 me out of countenance he, a peasant boy ! Then 
 we walked on. 
 
 " And as for her being a wax doll, as you call 
 her," he continued, after a little time, " that is non 
 sense, if you want the word to be used. Truly, a 
 doll ! And the next minute you compare her to 
 the Madonna ! I am sure she has a heart as big as 
 this," and he stretched out his hands into the air. 
 " I can see it in her eyes. Ah, what eyes ! " 
 
 I saw it was no use arguing on that tack, and I 
 felt quite sure that he would forget all about it, 
 though he looked so determined, and talked so 
 grandly about his will. 
 
 " Nino," I said, " I am older than you." I said 
 this to impress him, of course, for I am not really 
 so very old. 
 
 " Diamini ! " he cried impertinently, " I believe 
 it!" 
 
 " Well, well, do not be impatient. I have seen 
 something in my time, and I tell you those foreign 
 women are not like ours, a whit. I fell in love, 
 once, with a northern fairy, she was not German,
 
 32 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 but she came from Lombardy, you see, and that 
 is the reason why I lost Serveti and all the rest." 
 
 " But I have no Serveti to lose," objected Nino. 
 
 " You have a career as a musician to lose. It is 
 not much of a career, to be stamping about with 
 a lot of figuranti and scene-shifters, and scream 
 ing yourself hoarse every night." I was angry, be 
 cause he laughed at my age. " But it is a career, 
 after all, that you have chosen for yourself. If you 
 get mixed up in an intrigue now, you may ruin 
 yourself. I hope you will." 
 
 "Grazie! And then?" 
 
 " Eh, it might not be such a bad thing, after 
 all. For if you could be induced to give up the 
 stage " 
 
 "I /give up singing ? " he cried, indignantly. 
 
 " Oh, such things happen, you know. If you 
 were to give it up, as I was saying, you might then 
 possibly use your mind. A mind is a much better 
 thing than a throat, after all." 
 
 " Ebbene ! talk as much as you please, for, of 
 course, you have the right, for you have brought 
 me up, and you have certainly opposed my singing 
 enough to quiet your conscience. But, dear pro 
 fessor, I will do all that I say, and if you will give 
 me a little help in this matter you will not repent 
 it." 
 
 " Help ? Dio mio ! What do you take me for ? 
 As if I could help you, or would ! I suppose you 
 want money to make yourself a dandy, a paino, to 
 go and stand at the corner of the Piazza Colonna
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 33 
 
 and ogle her as she goes by ! In truth ! You have 
 fine projects." 
 
 " No," said Nino, quietly, " I do not want any 
 money, or anything else, at present, thank you. 
 And do not be angry, but come into the caffd and 
 drink some lemonade ; and I will invite you to it, 
 for I have been paid for my last copying, that I 
 sent in yesterday." He put his arm in mine, and 
 we went in. There is no resisting Nino, when he 
 is affectionate. But I would not let him pay for 
 the lemonade. I paid for it myself. What extrav 
 agance I
 
 III. 
 
 Now I ought to tell you that many things in this 
 story were only told me quite lately ; for at first I 
 would not help Nino at all, thinking it was but a 
 foolish fancy of his boy's heart and would soon 
 pass. I have tried to gather and to order all the 
 different incidents into one harmonious whole, so 
 that you can follow the story ; and you must not 
 wonder that I can describe some things that I did 
 not see, and that I know how some of the people felt ; 
 for Nino and I have talked over the whole matter 
 very often, and the baroness came here and told 
 me her share, though I wonder how she could talk 
 so plainly of what must have given her so much 
 pain. But it was very kind of her to come ; and 
 she sat over there in the old green arm-chair, by 
 the glass case that has the artificial flowers under 
 it, and the sugar lamb that the padre curato gave 
 Nino when he made his first communion at Easter. 
 However, it is not time to speak of the baroness 
 yet, but I cannot forget her. 
 
 Nino was very amusing when he began to love 
 the young countess, and the very first morning 
 the day after we had been to St. Peter's he 
 went out at half past six, though it was only just 
 sunrise, for we were in October. I knew very well
 
 -A ROMAN SINGER. 35 
 
 that he was goiflg for his extra lesson with De 
 Pretis, but I had nothing to say about it, and I 
 only recommended him to cover himself well, for 
 the scirocco had passed and it was a bright morn 
 ing, with a clear tramontana wind blowing fresh 
 from the north. I can always tell when it is a tra 
 montana wind, before I open my window, for Ma- 
 riuccia makes such a clattering with the coffee-pot 
 in the kitchen, and the goldfinch in the sitting-room 
 sings very loud ; which he never does if it is 
 cloudy. Nino, then, went off to Maestro Ercole's 
 house for his singing, and this is what happened 
 there. 
 
 De Pretis knew perfectly well that Nino had 
 only asked for the extra lesson in order to get a 
 chance of talking about the Contessina di Lira, and 
 so, to tease him, as soon as he appeared the maes 
 tro made a great bustle about singing scales, and 
 insisted upon beginning at once. Moreover, he 
 pretended to be in a bad humor ; and that is always 
 pretense with him. 
 
 " Ah, my little tenor," he began ; " you want a 
 lesson at seven in the morning, do you ? That is 
 the time when all the washerwomen sing at the 
 fountain ! Well, you shall have a lesson, and by 
 the body of Bacchus it shall be a real lesson ! 
 Now, then ! Andiamo Do-o-o ! " and he roared 
 out a great note that made the room shake, and a 
 man who was selling cabbage in the street stopped 
 his hand-cart and mimicked him for five minutes. 
 
 " But I am out of breath, maestro," protested 
 Nino, who wanted to talk.
 
 36 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 i 
 " Out of breath ? A singer is never out of 
 
 breath. Absurd ! What would you do if you got 
 out of breath, say, in the last act of Lucia, so 
 Bell' alma ado Then your breath ends, eh ? 
 Will you stay with the ' adored soul ' between your 
 teeth ? A fine singer you will make ! Andiamo ! 
 Do-o-o ! " 
 
 Nino saw he must begin, and he set up a shout, 
 much against his will, so that the cabbage-vender 
 chimed in, making so much noise that the old 
 woman who lives opposite opened her window 
 and emptied a great dustpan full of potato peel 
 ings and refuse leaves of lettuce right on his 
 head. And then there was a great noise. But the 
 maestro paid no attention, and went on with the 
 scale, hardly giving Nino time to breathe. Nino, 
 who stood behind De Pretis while he sang, saw the 
 copy of Bordogni's solfeggi lying on a chair, and 
 managed to slip it under a pile of music near by, 
 singing so lustily all the while that the maestro 
 never looked round. 
 
 When he got to the end of the scale, Ercole be 
 gan hunting for the music, and as he could not find 
 it Nino asked him questions. 
 
 " Can she sing, this contessina of yours, maes 
 tro?" De Pretis was overturning everything in 
 his search. 
 
 " An apoplexy on those solfeggi and on the man 
 who made them ! " he cried. " Sing, did you say ? 
 Yes, a great deal better than you ever will. Why 
 can you not look for your music, instead of chat-
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 37 
 
 tering ? " Nino began to look where he knew it 
 was not. 
 
 " By the bye, do you give her lessons every 
 day ? " asked the boy. 
 
 __" Every day ? Am I crazy, to ruin people's voices 
 like that?" 
 
 " Caro maestro, what is the matter with you, 
 this morning ? You have forgotten to say your 
 prayers ! " 
 
 " You are a donkey, Nino ; here he is, this blessed 
 Bordogni, now, come." 
 
 " Sor Ercole mio," said Nino in despair, " I must 
 really know something about this angel, before I 
 sing at all." Ercole sat down on the piano stool, 
 and puffed up his cheeks, and heaved a tremendous 
 sigh, to show how utterly bored he was by his pu 
 pil. Then he took a large pinch of snuff, and 
 sighed again. 
 
 " What demon have you got into your head ? " 
 he asked, at length. 
 
 " What angel, you mean," answered Nino, de 
 lighted at having forced the maestro to a parley. 
 " I am in love with her crazy about her," he 
 cried, running his fingers through his curly hair, 
 " and you must help me to see her. You can easily 
 take me to her house to sing duets, as part of her 
 lesson. I tell you I have not slept a wink all night 
 for thinking of her, and unless I see her I shall 
 never sleep again as long as I live. Ah ! " he cried, 
 putting his hands on Ercole's shoulders, " you do 
 not know what it is to be in love ! How every-
 
 38 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 thing one touches is fire, and the sky is like lead, 
 and one minute you are cold and one minute you 
 are hot, and you may turn and turn on your pil 
 low all night, and never sleep, and you want to 
 curse everybody you see, or to embrace them, it 
 makes no difference anything to express the " 
 , " Devil ! and may he carry you off ! " inter 
 rupted Ercole, laughing. But his manner changed. 
 " Poor fellow," he said presently, " it appears to 
 me you are in love." 
 
 " It appears to you, does it ? ' Appears ' a 
 beautiful word, in faith. I can tell you it appears 
 to me so, too. Ah ! it ' appears ' to you very 
 good indeed ! " and Nino waxed wroth. 
 
 " I will give you some advice, Ninetto mio. Do 
 not fall in love with any one. It always ends badly." 
 " You come late with your counsel, Sor Ercole. 
 In truth, a very good piece of advice, when a man 
 is fifty, and married, and wears a skull-cap. When 
 I wear a skull-cap and take snuff, I will follow 
 your instructions." He walked up and down the 
 room, grinding his teeth and clapping his hands to 
 gether. Ercole rose and stopped him. 
 " Let us talk seriously," he said. 
 " With all my heart ; as seriously as you please." 
 " You have only seen this signorina once." 
 " Once ! " cried Nino, " as if once were not " 
 " Diavolo ! let me speak. You have only seen 
 her once. She is noble, an heiress, a great lady 
 worse than all, a foreigner ; as beautiful as a statue, 
 if you please, but twice as cold. She has a father
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 39 
 
 who knows the proprieties, a piece of iron, I tell 
 you, who would kill you just as he would drink a 
 glass of wine, with the greatest indifference, if he 
 suspected you lifted your eyes to his daughter." 
 
 " I do not believe your calumnies," said Nino, 
 still hotly. " She is not cold, and if I can see her 
 she will listen to me. I am sure of it." 
 
 " We will speak of that by and by. You 
 what are you ? Nothing but a singer, who has not 
 even appeared before the public, without a baiocco 
 in the world, or anything else but your voice. You 
 are not even handsome." 
 
 " What difference does that make to a woman of 
 heart ? " retorted Nino angrily. " Let me only 
 speak to her " 
 
 "A thousand devils! " exclaimed De Pretis, im 
 patiently ; " what good will you do by speaking to 
 her ? Are you Dante, or Petrarca, or a preacher 
 what are you ? Do you think you can have a great 
 lady's hand for the asking? Do you flatter your 
 self that you are so eloquent that nobody can with 
 stand you ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Nino boldly. " If I could only speak 
 to her " 
 
 " Then, in Heaven's name, go and speak to her. 
 Get a new hat and a pair of lavender gloves, and 
 walk about the Villa Borghese until you meet her, 
 and then throw yourself on your knees and kiss her 
 feet, and the dust from her shoes ; and say you are 
 dying for her, and will she be good enough to walk 
 as far as Santa Maria del Popolo and be married to
 
 40 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 you ! That is all ; you see it is nothing you ask a 
 mere politeness on her part oh, nothing, nothing." 
 And De Pretis rubbed his hands and smiled, and 
 seeing that Nino did not answer, he blew his nose 
 with his great blue cotton handkerchief. 
 
 " You have no heart at all, maestro," said Nino 
 at last. " Let us sing." 
 
 They worked hard at Bordogni for half an hour, 
 and Nino did not open his mouth except to produce 
 the notes. But as his blood was up from the pre 
 ceding interview he took great pains, and Ercole, 
 who makes him sing all the solfeggi he can from 
 a sense of duty, himself wearied of the ridiculous 
 old-fashioned runs and intervals. 
 
 " Bene," he said ; " let us sing a piece now, and 
 then you will have done enough." He put an opera 
 on the piano, and Nino lifted up his voice and sang, 
 only too glad to give his heart passage to his lips. 
 Ercole screwed up his eyes with a queer smile he 
 has when he is pleased. 
 
 " Capperi ! " he ejaculated, when Nino had done. 
 
 " What has happened ? " asked the latter. 
 
 " I cannot tell you what has happened," said Er 
 cole, " but I will tell you that you had better always 
 sing like that, and you will be applauded. Why 
 have you never sung that piece in that way before ? " 
 
 " I do not know. Perhaps it is because I am un 
 happy/' 
 
 " Very well, never dare to be happy again, if you 
 mean to succeed. You can make a statue shed tears 
 if you please." Ercole took a pinch of snuff, and
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 41 
 
 turned round to look out of the window. Nino 
 leaned on the piano, drumming with his fingers and 
 looking at the back of the maestro's head. The 
 first rays of the sun just fell into the room and 
 gilded the red brick floor. 
 
 " Then instead of buying lavender kid gloves," 
 said Nino at last, his face relaxing a little, " and go 
 ing to the Villa Borghese, you advise me to borrow 
 a guitar and sing to my statue ? Is that it ? " 
 
 " Che Diana ! I did not say that ! " said Ercole, 
 still facing the window and finishing his pinch of 
 snuff with a certain satisfaction. " But if you want 
 the guitar, take it, there it lies. I will not answer 
 for what you do with it." His voice sounded kind 
 ly, for he was so much pleased. Then he made Nino 
 sing again, a little love song of Tosti, who writes 
 for the heart and sings so much better without a 
 voice than all your stage tenors put together. And 
 the maestro looked long at Nino when he had done, 
 but he did not say anything. Nino put on his hat, 
 gloomily enough, and prepared to go. 
 
 " I will take the guitar, if you will lend it to me," 
 he said. 
 
 " Yes, if you like, and I will give you a hand 
 kerchief to wrap it up with," said De Pretis, ab 
 sently, but he did not get up from his seat. He 
 was watching Nino, and he seemed to be thinking. 
 Just as the boy was going with the instrument 
 under his arm, he called him back. 
 
 " Ebbene ? " said Nino, with his hand on the lock 
 of the door.
 
 42 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 " I will make you a song to sing to your guitar," 
 said Ercole. 
 
 "You?" 
 
 " Yes but without music. Look here, Nino 
 sit down. What a hurry you are in! I was young 
 myself, once upon a time." 
 
 " Once upon a time ! Fairy stories once upon 
 a time there was a king, and so on." Nino was not 
 to be easily pacified. 
 
 " Well, perhaps it is a fairy tale, but it is in the 
 future. I have an idea." 
 
 " Oh, is that all ? But it is perhaps the first 
 time. I understand." 
 
 " Listen. Have you read Dante ? " 
 
 " I know the Vita Nuova by heart, and some of 
 the Commedia. But how the diavolo does Dante 
 enter into this question ? " 
 
 " And Silvio Pellico, and a little literature ? " 
 continued Ercole, not heeding the comment. 
 
 " Yes, after a fashion. And you ? Do you 
 know them ? " 
 
 " Che c'entro io ? " cried Ercole impatiently ; 
 " what do I want to know such things for ? But I 
 have heard of them." 
 
 " I congratulate you," replied Nino ironically. 
 
 " Have patience. You are no longer an artist. 
 You are a professor of literature." 
 
 "I a professor of literature ? What nonsensa 
 are you talking? " 
 
 "You are a great stupid donkey, Nino. Sup 
 posing I obtain for you an engagement to read lit-
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 43 
 
 erature with the Contessina di Lira, will you not 
 be a professor ? If you prefer singing " But 
 Nino comprehended in a flash the whole scope of the 
 proposal, and threw his arms round Ercole's neck 
 and embraced him. 
 
 " What a mind ! Oh, maestro mio, I will die for 
 you! Command me, and I will do anything for 
 you ; I will run errands for you, black your boots, 
 anything" he cried in the ecstasy of delight that 
 overmastered him. 
 
 " Piano, piano," objected the maestro, disengag 
 ing himself from his pupil's embrace. " It is not 
 done yet. There is much, much to think of first." 
 
 Nino retreated, a little disconcerted at not find 
 ing his enthusiasm returned, but radiant still. 
 
 " Calm yourself," said Ercole, smiling. " If you 
 do this thing, you must act a part. You must 
 manage to conceal your occupation entirely. You 
 must look as solemn as an undertaker and be a real 
 professor. They will ultimately find you out, and 
 throw you out of the window, and dismiss me for 
 recommending you. But that is nothing." 
 
 "No," said Nino, "that is of no importance." 
 And he ran his fingers through his hair, and looked 
 delighted. 
 
 "You shall know all about it this evening, or 
 to-morrow " 
 
 "This evening, Sor Ercole, this evening, or I 
 shall die. Stay, let me go to the house with you, 
 when you give your lesson, and wait for you at the 
 door."
 
 44 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 " Pumpkin-head ! I will have nothing to do with 
 you," said De Pretis. 
 
 " Ah, I will be as quiet as you please. I will be 
 like a lamb, and wait until this evening." 
 
 " If you will really be quiet, I will do what you 
 wish. Come to me this evening, about the Ave 
 Maria or a little earlier. Yes, come at twenty- 
 three hours." In October that is about five o'clock, 
 by French time. 
 
 " And I may take the guitar ? " said Nino, as he 
 rose to go. 
 
 " With all my heart. But do not spoil every 
 thing by singing to her, and betraying yourself." 
 
 So Nino thanked the maestro enthusiastically 
 and went away, humming a tune, as he now and 
 again struck the strings of the guitar that he car 
 ried under his arm, to be sure it was there. 
 
 Do not think that because De Pretis suddenly 
 changed his mind, and even proposed to Nino a 
 plan for making the acquaintance of the young 
 countess, he is a man to veer about like a weather 
 cock, nor yet a bad man, willing to help a boy to 
 do mischief. That is not at all like Ercole de 
 Pretis. He has since told me he was much aston 
 ished at the way Nino sang the love song at his les 
 son ; and he was instantly convinced that in order 
 to be a great artist Nino must be in love always. 
 Besides, the maestro is as liberal in his views of 
 life as he is conservative in his ideas about govern 
 ment. Nino is everything the most strait-laced 
 father could wish him to be, and as he was then
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 45 
 
 within a few months of making his first appearance 
 on the stage, De Pretis, who understands those 
 things, could very well foresee the success he has 
 had. Now De Pretis is essentially a man of the 
 people, and I am not ; therefore he saw no objec 
 tion in the way of a match between a great singer 
 and a noble damigella. But had I known what 
 was going on, I would have stopped the whole affair 
 at that point, for I am not so weak as Mariuccia 
 seems to think. I do not mean that now everything 
 is settled I would wish it undone. Heaven forbid ! 
 But I would have stopped it then, for it is a most 
 incongruous thing, a peasant boy making love to a 
 countess. 
 
 Nino, however, has one great fault, and that is 
 his reticence. It is true, he never does anything 
 he would not like me, or all the world, to know. 
 But I would like to know, all the same. It is a 
 habit I have fallen into, from having to watch that 
 old woman, for fear she should be too extravagant. 
 All that time he never said anything, and I sup 
 posed he had forgotten all about the contessina, for 
 I did not chance to see De Pretis ; and when I did, 
 he talked of nothing but Nino's debut and the ar 
 rangements that were to be made. So that I knew 
 nothing about it, though I was pleased to see him 
 reading so much. He took a sudden fancy for lit 
 erature, and read when he was not singing, and 
 even made me borrow Ambrosoli, in several vol 
 umes, from a friend. He read every word of it, 
 and talked very intelligently about it, too. I never 
 thought there was any reason.
 
 46 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 But De Pretis thinks differently. He believes 
 that a man may be the son of a ciociaro a fellow 
 who ties his legs up in rags and thongs, and lives 
 on goats' milk in the mountains and that if he 
 has brains enough, or talent enough, he may marry 
 any woman he likes without ever thinking whether 
 she is noble or not. De Pretis must be old-fash 
 ioned, for I am sure I do not think in that way, 
 and I know a hundred times as much as he a 
 hundred times. 
 
 I suppose it must have been the very day when 
 Nino had been to De Pretis in the morning, that 
 he had instructions to go to the house of Count von 
 Lira on the morrow ; for I remember very well 
 that Nino acted strangely in the evening, singing 
 and making a noise for a few minutes, and then 
 burying himself in a book. However that may be, 
 it was very soon afterwards that he went to the 
 Palazzo Carmandola, dressed in his best clothes, he 
 tells me, in order to make a favorable impression 
 on the count. The latter had spoken to De Pretis 
 about the lessons in literature, to which he attached 
 great importance, and the maestro had turned the 
 idea to account for his pupil. But Nino did not ex 
 pect to see the young contessa on this first day, or 
 at least he did not hope he would be able to speak 
 to her. And so it turned out. 
 
 The footman, who had a red waistcoat and opened 
 the door with authority, as if ready to close it again 
 on the smallest provocation, did not frighten Nino 
 at all, though he eyed him suspiciously enough,
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 47 
 
 and after ascertaining- his business departed to an 
 nounce him to the count. Meanwhile Nino, who 
 was very much excited at the idea of being under 
 the same roof with the object of his adoration, sat 
 himself down on one of the carved chests that sur 
 rounded the hall. The green baize door at the 
 other end swung noiselessly on its hinges, closing 
 itself behind the servant, and the boy was left 
 alone. He might well be frightened, if not at the 
 imposing appearance of the footman, at least at the 
 task he had undertaken. But a boy like Nino is 
 afraid of nothing, when he is in love, and he sim 
 ply looked about him, realizing that he was without 
 doubt in the house of a gran' signore, and from 
 time to time brushing a particle of dust from his 
 clothes, or trying to smooth his curly black hair, 
 which he had caused to be clipped a little for the 
 occasion ; a very needless expense, for he looks bet 
 ter with his hair long. 
 
 Before many moments the servant returned, and 
 with some condescension said that the count awaited 
 him. Nino would rather have faced the mayor, or 
 the king himself, than Graf von Lira, though he 
 was not at all frightened he was only very much 
 excited, and he strove to calm himself, as he was 
 ushered through the apartments to the small sitting- 
 room, where he was expected. 
 
 Graf von Lira, as I have already told you, is a 
 foreigner of rank, who had been a Prussian colonel, 
 and was wounded in the war of 1866. He is very 
 tall, very thin, and very gray, with wooden features
 
 48 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 and a huge mustache that stands out like the beaks 
 on the colonna rostrata. His eyes are small and 
 very far apart, and fix themselves with terrible 
 severity when he speaks, even if he is only saying 
 " good - morning." His nails are very long and 
 most carefully kept, and though he is so lame that 
 he could not move a step without the help of his 
 stick, he is still an upright and military figure. I 
 remember well how he looked, for he came to see 
 me under peculiar circumstances, many months af 
 ter the time of which I am now speaking ; and be 
 sides, I had stood next to him for an hour in the 
 chapel of the choir in St. Peter's. 
 
 He speaks Italian intelligibly, but with the 
 strangest German constructions, and he rolls the 
 letter r curiously in his throat. But he is an intel 
 ligent man for a soldier, though he thinks talent is 
 a matter of education, and education a matter of 
 drill. He is the most ceremonious man I ever saw ; 
 and Nino says he rose from his chair to meet him, 
 and would not sit down again until Nino was seated. 
 
 " The signore is the professor of Italian litera 
 ture recommended to me by Signer De Pretis ? " 
 inquired the colonel in iron tones, as he scrutinized 
 Nino. 
 
 " Yes, Signer Conte," was the answer. 
 
 " You are a singularly young man to be a profes 
 sor." Nino trembled. " And how have you the 
 education obtained in order the obligations and not- 
 to-be-avoided responsibilities of this worthy-of-all 
 honor career to meet ? "
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 49 
 
 " I went to school here, Signer Conte, and the 
 Professor Grandi, in whose house I always have 
 lived, has taught me everything else I know." 
 
 " What do you know ? " inquired the count, so 
 suddenly that Nino was taken off his guard. He 
 did not know what to answer. The count looked 
 very stern and pulled his mustaches. " You have 
 not come here," he continued, seeing that Nino 
 made no answer, " without knowing something. 
 Evident it is, that, although a man young be, if he 
 nothing knows, he cannot a professor be." 
 
 " You speak justly, Signer Conte," Nino an 
 swered at last, " and I do know some things. I 
 know the Commedia of Alighieri, and Petrarca, 
 and I have read the Gerusalemme Liberata, with 
 Professor Grandi, and I can repeat all of the Vita 
 Nuova by heart, and some of the " 
 
 " For the present that is enough," said the count. 
 "If you nothing better to do have, will you so 
 kind be as to begin ? " 
 
 " Begin ? " said Nino, not understanding. 
 
 " Yes, signore ; it would unsuitable be if I my 
 daughter to the hands of a man committed unac 
 quainted with the matter he to teach her proposes. 
 I desire to be satisfied that you all these things 
 really know." 
 
 " Do I understand, Signer Conte, that you wish 
 me to repeat to you some of the things I know by 
 heart?" 
 
 " You have me understood," said the count se 
 verely. " I have all the books bought, of which you
 
 50 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 speak. You will repeat, and I will in the book fol 
 low. Then shall we know each other much better. 
 
 Nino was not a little astonished at this mode of 
 procedure, and wondered how far his memory would 
 serve him in such an unexpected examination. 
 
 " It will take a long time to ascertain in this 
 way " he began. 
 
 " This," said the count coldly, as he opened a vol 
 ume of Dante, " is the celestial play by Signor Ali- 
 ghieri. If you anything know x you will it repeat." 
 
 Nino resigned himself, and began repeating the 
 first canto of the Inferno. When he had finished 
 it he paused. 
 
 " Forwards," said the count, without any change 
 of manner. 
 
 " More ? " inquired Nino. 
 
 " March ! " said the old gentleman in military 
 tone, and the boy went on with the second canto. 
 
 " Apparently know you the beginning." The 
 count opened the book at random in another place. 
 " The thirtieth canto of Purgatory. You will now 
 it repeat." 
 
 " Ah ! " cried Nino, " that is where Dante meets 
 Beatrice." 
 
 " My hitherto not-by-any-means-extensive, but 
 always from - the - conscience - undertaken, reading 
 reaches not so far. You will it repeat. So shall 
 we know." Nino passed his hand inside his collar 
 as though to free his throat, and began again, los 
 ing all consciousness of his tormentor in his own 
 enjoyment of the verse.
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 51 
 
 " When was the Signore Alighieri born ? " in 
 quired Graf von Lira, very suddenly, as though to 
 catch him. 
 
 " May, 1265, in Florence," answered the other 
 as quickly. 
 
 " I said when, not where. I know he was in 
 Florence born. When and where died he ? " The 
 question was asked fiercely. 
 
 " Fourteenth of September, 1321, at Ravenna." 
 
 " I think really you something of Signore Ali~ 
 ghieri know," said the count, and shut up the vol 
 ume of the poet, and the dictionary of dates he had 
 been obliged to consult to verify Nino's answers. 
 "We will proceed." 
 
 Nino is fortunately one of those people whose 
 faculties serve them best at their utmost need, and 
 during the three hours three blessed hours 
 that Graf von Lira kept him under his eye, asking 
 questions and forcing him to repeat all manner of 
 things, he acquitted himself fairly well. 
 
 " I have now myself satisfied that you something 
 know," said the count, in his snappish military 
 fashion, and he shut the last book, and never from 
 that day referred in any manner to Nino's extent 
 of knowledge, taking it for granted that he had 
 made an exhaustive investigation. " And now," he 
 continued, " I desire you to engage for the reading 
 of literature with my daughter, upon the usual 
 terms." Nino was so much pleased that he almost 
 lost his self-control, but a moment restored his re 
 flection.
 
 52 . A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 " I am honored " he began. 
 
 ^' You are not honored at all," interrupted the 
 count coldly. " What are the usual terms? " 
 
 " Three or four francs a lesson " suggested 
 Nino. 
 
 " Three or four francs are not the usual terms. 
 I have inquiries made. Five francs are the usual 
 terms. Three times in the week, at eleven. You 
 will on the morrow begin. Allow me to offer you 
 some cigars." And he ended the interview.
 
 IV. 
 
 IN a sunny room overlooking the great courtyard 
 of the Palazzo Carmandola, Nino sat down to give 
 Hedwio 1 von Lira her first lesson in Italian litera- 
 
 O 
 
 ture. He had not the remotest idea what the les 
 son would be like, for in spite of the tolerably wide 
 acquaintance with the subject which he owed to my 
 care and my efforts to make a scholar of him, he 
 knew nothing about teaching. Nevertheless, as his 
 pupil spoke the language fluently, though with the 
 occasional use of words of low origin, like all for 
 eigners who have grown up in Rome and have 
 learned to speak from their servants, he anticipated 
 little difficulty. He felt quite sure of being able to 
 interpret the hard places, and he had learnt from 
 me to know the best and finest passages in a num 
 ber of authors. 
 
 But imagine the feelings of a boy of twenty, per 
 fectly in love, without having the smallest right to 
 be so, suddenly placed by the side of the object of 
 his adoration, and told to teach her all he knows 
 with her father in the next room and the door open 
 between ! I have always thought it was a proof of 
 Nino's determined character, that he should have 
 got over this first lesson without accident. 
 
 Hedwig von Lira, the contessina, as we always
 
 54 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 call her, is just Nino's age, but she seemed much 
 younger, as the children of the North always do. 
 I have told you what she was like to look at, and 
 you will not wonder that I called her a statue. 
 She looked as cold as a statue, just as I said, and 
 so I should hardly describe her as beautiful. But 
 then I am not a sculptor, nor do I know anything 
 about those arts, though I can tell a good work 
 when I see it. I do not wish to appear prejudiced, 
 and so I will not say anything more about it. I 
 like life in living things, and sculptors may, if it 
 please them, adore straight noses, and level brows, 
 and mouths that no one could possibly eat with. 
 I do not care in the least, and if you say that I 
 once thought differently I answer that I do not 
 wish to change your opinion, but that I will change 
 my own as often as I please. Moreover, if you say 
 that the contessina did not act like a statue in the 
 sequel, I wall argue that if you put marble in the 
 fire it will take longer to heat and longer to cool 
 than clay ; only clay is made to be put into the fire, 
 and marble is not. Is not that a cunning answer ? 
 The contessina is a foreigner in every way, al 
 though she was born under our sun. They have 
 all sorts of talents, these people, but so little inge 
 nuity in using them that they never accomplish 
 anything. It seems to amuse them to learn to do a 
 great many things, although they must know from 
 the beginning that they can never excel in any one 
 of them. I dare say the contessina plays on the 
 piano very creditably, for even Nino says she plays 
 well ; but is it of any use to her ?
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 55 
 
 Nino very soon found out that she meant to read 
 literature very seriously, and, what is more, she 
 meant to read it in her own way. She was as dif 
 ferent from her father as possible in everything 
 else, but in a despotic determination to do exactly 
 as she liked she resembled him. Nino was glad 
 that he was not called upon to use his own judg 
 ment, and there he sat, content to look at her, 
 twisting his hands together below the table to con 
 centrate his attention, and master himself ; and he 
 read just what she told him to read, expounding the 
 words and phrases she could not understand. I dare 
 say that with his hair well brushed, and his best 
 coat, and his eyes on the book, he looked as proper 
 as you please. But if the high-born young lady 
 had returned the glances he could not refrain from 
 bending upon her now and then, she would have 
 seen a lover, if she could see at all. 
 
 She did not see. The haughty Prussian damsel 
 hardly noticed the man, for she was absorbed by 
 the professor. Her small ears were all attention, 
 and her slender fingers made notes with a com 
 mon pencil, so that Nino wondered at the contrast 
 between the dazzling white hand and the smooth, 
 black, varnished instrument of writing. He took 
 no account of time that day, and was startled by 
 the sound of the midday gun and the angry clash 
 ing of the bells. The coiitessina looked up sud 
 denly and met his eyes, but it was the boy that 
 blushed. 
 
 "Would you mind finishing the canto?" she
 
 56 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 asked. " There are only ten lines more" Mind! 
 Nino flushed with pleasure. 
 
 " Anzi by all means," he cried. " My time is 
 yours, signorina." 
 
 When they had done, he rose, and his face was 
 sad and pale again. He hated to go, but he was 
 only a teacher, and at his first lesson, too. She 
 also rose, and waited for him to leave the room. 
 He could not hold his tongue. 
 
 "Signorina" he stammered, and checked him 
 self. She looked at him, to listen, but his heart 
 smote him when he had thus arrested her attention. 
 What could he say, as he stood bowing? It was 
 sufficiently stupid, what he said. 
 
 " I shall have the honor of returning to-morrow 
 the day after to-morrow, I would say." 
 
 " Yes," said she, " I believe that is the arrange 
 ment. Good-morning, Signer Professore." The 
 title of professor rang strangely in his ear. Was 
 there the slightest tinge of irony in her voice? 
 Was she laughing at his boyish looks ? Ugh ! the 
 thought tingled. He bowed himself out. 
 
 That was the first lesson, and the second was 
 like it, I suppose, and a great many others about 
 which I knew nothing, for I was always occupied 
 in the middle of the day, and did not ask where he 
 went. It seemed to me that he was becoming a 
 great dandy, but as he never asked me for any 
 money from the day he learned to copy music I 
 never put any questions. He certainly had a new 
 coat before Christmas, and gloves, and very nice
 
 A ROMAN STNGER. 57 
 
 boots, that made me smile when I thought of the 
 day when he arrived, with only one shoe and it 
 had a hole in it as big as half his foot. But now 
 he grew to be so careful of his appearance that 
 Mariuccia began to call him the " signorino." De 
 Pretis said he was making great progress, and so I 
 was contented, though I always thought it was a 
 sacrifice for him to be a singer. 
 
 Of course, as he went three times a week to the 
 Palazzo Carmandola, he began to be used to the 
 society of the contessina. I never understood how 
 he succeeded in keeping up the comedy of being a 
 professor. A real Roman would have discovered 
 him in a week. But foreigners are different. If 
 they are satisfied, they pay their money and ask no 
 questions. Besides, he studied all the time, saying 
 that if he ever lost his voice he would turn man 
 of letters which sounded so prudent that I had 
 nothing to say. Once, we were walking in the 
 Corso, and the contessina with her father passed in 
 the carriage. Nino raised his hat, but they did not 
 see him, for there is always a crowd in the Corso. 
 
 " Tell me," he cried excitedly as they went by, 
 " is it not true that she is beautiful? " 
 
 " A piece of marble, my son," said I, suspecting 
 nothing ; and I turned into a tobacconist's to buy a 
 cigar. 
 
 One day Nino says it was in November the 
 contessina began asking him questions about the 
 Pantheon. It was in the middle of the lesson, and 
 he wondered at her stopping to talk. But you may
 
 58 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 imagine whether he was glad or not to have an 
 opportunity of speaking about something besides 
 Dante. 
 
 "Yes, signorina," he answered, "Professor 
 Grand! says it was built for public baths ; but, of 
 course, we all think it was a temple." 
 
 " Were you ever there at night ? " asked she, 
 indifferently, and the sun 'through the window so 
 played with her golden hair that Nino wondered 
 how she could ever think of night at all. 
 
 " At night, signorina ? No indeed ! What should 
 I go there at night to do, in the dark ! I was never 
 there at night." 
 
 " I will go there at night," she said briefly. 
 
 " Ah you would have it lit up with torches, as 
 they do the Coliseum ? " 
 
 " No. Is there no moon in Italy, professore ? " 
 
 " The moon there is. But there is such a little 
 hole in the top of the Rotonda " that is our Ro 
 man name for the Pantheon " that it would be 
 very dark." 
 
 " Precisely," said she. " I will go there at night, 
 and see the moon shining through the hole in the 
 dome." 
 
 " Eh," cried Nino laughing, " you will see the 
 moon better outside in the piazza. Why should 
 you go inside, where you can see so little of it ? " 
 
 " I will go," replied the contessina. " The Ital 
 ians have no sense of the beautiful the mysteri 
 ous." Her eyes grew dreamy as she tried to call 
 up the picture she had never seen.
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 59 
 
 "Perhaps," said Nino, humbly. "But," he 
 added, suddenly brightening at the thought, " it is 
 very easy, if you would like to go. I will arrange 
 it. Will you allow me ? " 
 
 " Yes, arrange it. Let us go on with our lesson." 
 
 I would like to tell you all about it ; how Nino 
 saw the sacristan of the Pantheon that evening, and 
 ascertained from his little almanach which has 
 all kinds of wonderful astrological predictions, as 
 well as the calendar when it would be full moon. 
 And perhaps what Nino said to the sacristan, and 
 what the sacristan said to Nino, might be amusing. 
 I am very fond of these little things, and fond of 
 talking too. For since it is talking that distin 
 guishes us from other animals, I do not see why I 
 should not make the most of it. But you who 
 are listening to me have seen very little of the Con- 
 tessina Hedwig as yet, and unless I quickly tell you 
 more you will wonder how all the curious things 
 that happened to her could possibly have grown out 
 of the attempt of a little singer like Nino to make 
 her acquaintance. Well, Nino is a great singer 
 now, of course, but he was little once ; and when he 
 palmed himself off on the old count for an Italian 
 master without my knowledge, nobody had heard 
 of him at all. 
 
 Therefore since I must satisfy your curiosity be 
 fore anything else, and not dwell too long on the 
 details the dear, commonplace details I will 
 simply say that Nino succeeded without difficulty 
 in arranging with the sacristan of the Pantheon to
 
 60 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 allow a party of foreigners to visit the building at 
 the full moon, at midnight. I have no doubt he 
 even expended a franc with the little man, who is 
 very old and dirty, and keeps chickens in the vesti 
 bule but no details ! 
 
 I On the appointed night Nino, wrapped in that 
 old cloak of mine (which is very warm, though it 
 is threadbare), accompanied the party to the tem 
 ple, or church, or whatever you like to call it. The 
 party were simply the count and his daughter* an 
 Austrian gentleman of their acquaintance, and the 
 dear baroness that sympathetic woman who broke 
 so many hearts and cared not at all for the chatter 
 of the people. Every one has seen her, with her 
 slim, graceful ways, and her face that was like a 
 mulatto peach for darkness and fineness, and her 
 dark eyes and tiger-lily look. They say she lived 
 entirely on sweetmeats and coffee, and it is no 
 wonder she was so sweet and so dark. She called 
 me " count " which is very foolish now, but if 
 I were going to fall in love I would have loved 
 her. I would not love a statue. As for the Aus 
 trian gentleman, it is not of any importance to de 
 scribe him. 
 
 These four people Nino conducted to the little 
 entrance at the back of the Pantheon, and the sac 
 ristan struck a light to show them the way to the 
 door of the church. Then he put out his taper, and 
 let them do as they pleased. 
 
 Conceive if you can the darkness of Egypt, the 
 darkness that can be felt, impaled and stabbed
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 61 
 
 through its whole thickness by one mighty moon 
 beam, clear and clean and cold, from the top to 
 the bottom. All around, in the circle of the outer 
 black, lie the great dead in their tombs, whispering 
 to each other of deeds that shook the world ; whis 
 pering in a language all their own as yet the 
 language of the life to come the language of a 
 stillness so dread and deep that the very silence 
 clashes against it, and makes dull, muffled beatings 
 in ears that strain to catch the dead men's talk : the 
 shadow of immortality falling through the shadow 
 of death, and bursting back upon its heavenward 
 course from the depth of the abyss ; climbing again 
 upon its silver self to the sky above, leaving be 
 hind the horror of the deep. 
 
 So in that lonely place at midnight falls the 
 moon upon the floor, and through the mystic shaft 
 of rays ascend and descend the souls of the dead. 
 Hedwig stood out alone upon the white circle on 
 the pavement beneath the dome, and looked up as 
 though she could see the angels coming and going. 
 And, as she looked, the heavy lace veil that covered 
 her head fell back softly, as though a spirit wooed 
 her and would fain look on something fairer than 
 he, and purer. The whiteness clung to her face, 
 and each separate wave of hair was like spun sil 
 ver. And she looked steadfastly up. For a mo 
 ment she stood, and the hushed air trembled about 
 her. Then the silence caught the tremor, and quiv 
 ered, and a thrill of sound hovered and spread its 
 wings, and sailed forth from the night.
 
 62 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 " Spirto gentil del sogni miei " 
 
 Ah, Signorina Edvigia, you know that voice now, 
 but you did not know it then. How your heart 
 stopped, and beat, and stopped again, when you 
 first heard that man sing out his whole heartf ul 
 you in the light and he in the dark ! And his soul 
 shot out to you upon the sounds, and died fitfully, 
 as the magic notes dashed their soft wings against 
 the vaulted roof above you, and took new life again 
 and throbbed heavenward in broad, passionate 
 waves, till your breath came thick and your blood 
 ran fiercely ay, even your cold northern blood 
 in very triumph that a voice could so move you. A 
 voice in the dark. For a full minute after it ceased 
 you stood there, and the others, wherever they 
 might be in the shadow, scarcely breathed. 
 
 That was how Hedwig first heard Nino sing. 
 When at last she recovered herself enough to ask 
 aloud the name of the singer, Nino had moved 
 quite close to her. 
 
 " It is a relation of mine, signorina, a young fel 
 low who is going to be an artist. I asked him as 
 a favor to come here and sing to you to-night. I 
 thought it might please you." 
 
 " A relation of yours ! " exclaimed the contes- 
 sina. And the others approached so that they all 
 made a group in the disc of moonlight. "Just 
 think, my dear baroness, this wonderful voice is a 
 relation of Signor Cardegna, my excellent Italian 
 master ! " There was a little murmur of admira 
 tion ; then the old count spoke.
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 63 
 
 "Signore," said he, rolling in his gutturals, "it 
 is my duty to very much thank you. You will 
 now, if you please, me the honor do, me to your 
 all-the-talents-possible-possessing relation to pre 
 sent." Nino had foreseen the contingency, and 
 disappeared into the dark. Presently he returned. 
 
 " I am so sorry, Signer Conte," he said. " The 
 sacristan tells me that when my cousin had fin 
 ished he hurried away, saying he was afraid of 
 taking some ill if he remained here where it is so 
 damp. I will tell him how much you appreciated 
 him." 
 
 " Curious is it," remarked the count. " I heard 
 him not going off." 
 
 " He stood in the doorway of the sacristy, by the 
 high altar, Signer Conte." 
 
 " In that case is it different." 
 
 " I am sorry," said Nino. " The signorina was 
 so unkind as to say, lately, that we Italians have 
 no sense of the beautiful, the mysterious " 
 
 " I take it back," said Hedwig gravely, still 
 standing in the moonlight. "Your cousin has a 
 very great power over the beautiful." 
 
 " And the mysterious," added the baroness, who 
 had not spoken, " for his departure without show 
 ing himself has left me the impression of a sweet 
 dream. Give me your arm, Professore Cardegna. 
 I will not stay here any longer, now that the dream 
 is over." Nino sprang to her side politely, though 
 to tell the truth she did not attract him at first 
 sight. He freed one arm from the old cloak, and
 
 64 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 reflected that she could not tell in the dark how 
 very shabby it was. 
 
 " You give lessons to the Signorina di Lira ? " 
 she asked, leading him quickly away from the 
 party. 
 
 "Yes in Italian literature, signora." 
 
 " Ah she tells me great things of you. Could 
 you not spare me an hour or two in the week, pro- 
 fessore ? " 
 
 Here was a new complication. Nino had cer 
 tainly not contemplated setting up for an Italian 
 teacher to all the world, when he undertook to give 
 lessons to Hedwig. 
 
 " Signora " he began, in a protesting voice. 
 
 " You will do it to oblige me, I am sure," she 
 said eagerly, and her slight hand just pressed upon 
 his arm a little. Nino had found time to reflect 
 that this lady was intimate with Hedwig, and that 
 he might possibly gain an opportunity of seeing the 
 girl he loved if he accepted the offer. 
 
 " Whenever it pleases you, signora," he said at 
 length. 
 
 " Can you come to me to-morrow at eleven ? " 
 she asked. 
 
 " At twelve, if you please, signora, or half past. 
 Eleven is the contessina's hour to-morrow." 
 
 " At half past twelve, then, to-morrow," said 
 she, and she gave him her address, as they went 
 out into the street. " Stop," she added, " where 
 do you live ? " 
 
 " Number twenty-seven, Santa Catarina dei Fu-
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 65 
 
 nari," he answered, wondering why she asked. The 
 rest of the party came out, and Nino bowed to the 
 ground, as he bid the contessina good-night. 
 
 He was glad to be free of that pressure on his 
 arm, and he was glad to be alone, to wander through 
 the streets under the moonlight and to think over 
 what he had done. 
 
 " There is no risk of my being discovered," he 
 said to himself, confidently. " The story of the 
 near relation was well imagined, and, besides, it is 
 true. Am I not my own nearest relation ? I cer 
 tainly have no others that I know of. And this 
 baroness what can she want of me ? She speaks 
 Italian like a Spanish cow, and indeed she needs a 
 professor badly enough. But why should she take 
 a fancy for me as a teacher ? Ah ! those eyes ! 
 Not the baroness's. Edvigia Edvigia di Lira 
 Edvigia Ca Cardegna! Why not?" He 
 stopped to think, and looked long at the moon 
 beams playing on the waters of the fountain. 
 " Why not ? But the baroness may the diavolo 
 fly away with her ! What should I do I indeed ! 
 with a pack of baronesses ? I will go to bed and 
 dream not of a baroness ! Macche", never a 
 baroness in my dreams, with eyes like a snake and 
 who cannot speak three words properly in the only 
 language under the sun worth speaking ! Not I 
 I will dream of Edvigia di Lira she is the spirit 
 of my dreams. Spirto gentil " and away he 
 went, humming the air from the Favorita in the 
 top of his head, as is his wont. 
 5
 
 66 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 The next day the contessina could talk of nothing 
 during her lesson but the unknown singer who had 
 made the night so beautiful for her, and Nino 
 flushed red under his dark skin and ran his fingers 
 wildly through his curly hair, with pleasure. But 
 he set his square jaw, that means so much, and ex 
 plained to his pupil how hard it would be for her to 
 hear him again. For his friend, he said, was soon 
 to make his appearance on the stage, and of course 
 he could not be heard singing before that. And as 
 the young lady insisted, Nino grew silent, and re 
 marked that the lesson was not progressing. ' There 
 upon Hedwig blushed the first time he had ever 
 seen her blush and did not approach the subject 
 again. 
 
 After that he went to the house of the baroness, 
 where he was evidently expected, for the servant 
 asked his name and immediately ushered him into 
 her presence. She was one of those lithe, dark 
 women of good race, that are to be met with all 
 over the world, and she has broken many hearts. 
 But she was not like a snake at all, as Nino had 
 thought at first. She was simply a very fine lady 
 who did exactly what she pleased ; and if she did 
 not always act rightly, yet I think she rarely acted 
 unkindly. After all, the buon Dio has not made 
 us all paragons of domestic virtue. Men break 
 their hearts for so very little, and, unless they are 
 ruined, they melt the pieces at the next flame and 
 join them together again like bits of sealing wax. 
 
 The baroness sat before a piano in a boudoir.
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 67 
 
 where there was not very much light. Every part 
 of the room was crowded with fans, ferns, palms, 
 Oriental carpets and cushions, books, porcelain, 
 majolica, and pictures. You could hardly move 
 without touching some ornament, and the heavy 
 curtains softened the sunshine, and a small open 
 fire of wood helped the warmth. There was also 
 an odor of Russian tobacco. The baroness smiled 
 and turned on the piano seat. 
 
 " Ah, professore ! You come just in time," said 
 she. " I am trying to sing such a pretty song to 
 myself, and I cannot pronounce the words. Come 
 and teach me." Nino contrasted the whole air of 
 this luxurious retreat with the prim, soldierly order 
 that reigned in the count's establishment. 
 
 " Indeed, signora, I come to teach you whatever 
 I can. Here I am. I cannot sing, but I will stand 
 beside you and prompt the words." 
 
 Nino is not a shy boy at all, and he assumed the 
 duties required of him immediately. He stood by 
 her side, and she just nodded and began to sing a 
 little song that stood on the desk of the piano. 
 She did not sing out of tune, but she made wrong 
 notes and pronounced horribly. 
 
 "Pronounce the words for me," she repeated 
 every now and then. 
 
 " But pronouncing in singing is different from 
 speaking," he objected at last, and fairly forgetting 
 himself, and losing patience, he began softly to sing 
 the words over. Little by little, as the song pleased 
 him, he lost all memory of where he was, and stood
 
 68 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 beside her singing just as he would have done to 
 De Pretis, from the sheet, with all the accuracy and 
 skill that were in him. At the end, he suddenly 
 remembered how foolish he was. But, after all, he 
 had not sung to the power of his voice, and she 
 might not recognize in him the singer of last night. 
 The baroness looked up with a light laugh. 
 
 " I have found you out," she cried, clapping her 
 hands. " I have found you out." 
 
 " What, signora ? " 
 
 "You are the tenorfof the Pantheon that is 
 all. I knew it. Are you so sorry that I have 
 found you out?" she asked, for Nino turned very 
 white, and his eyes flashed at the thought of the 
 folly he had committed.
 
 V. 
 
 NINO was thoroughly frightened, for he knew 
 that discovery portended the loss of everything 
 most dear to him. No more lessons with Hedwig, 
 no more parties to the Pantheon no more peace, 
 no more anything. He wrung his fingers together 
 and breathed hard. 
 
 "Ah, signora!" he found voice to exclaim, "I 
 am sure you cannot believe it possible " 
 
 " Why not, Signer Cardegna ? " asked the baron 
 ess, looking up at him from under her half-closed 
 lids with a mocking glance. " Why not ? Did 
 you not tell me where you lived ? And does not the 
 whole neighborhood know that you are no other 
 than Giovanni Cardegna, corrfmonly called Nino, 
 who is to make his debut in the Carnival season? " 
 
 " Dio mio ! " ejaculated Nino in a hoarse voice, 
 realizing that he was entirely found out, and that 
 nothing could save him. He paced the room in an 
 agony of despair, and his square face was as white 
 as a sheet. The baroness sat watching him with a 
 smile on her lips, amused at the tempest she had 
 created, and pretending to know much more than 
 she did. She thought it not impossible that Nino, 
 who was certainly poor, might be supporting him 
 self by teaching Italian while studying for the
 
 70 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 stage, and she inwardly admired his sense and two 
 fold talent, if that were really the case. But she 
 was willing -to torment him a little, seeing that she 
 had the power. 
 
 " Signer Cardegna " she called him in her soft 
 voice. He turned quickly, and stood facing her, 
 his arms crossed. 
 
 "You look like Napoleon at Waterloo, when you 
 stand like that," she laughed. He made no answer, 
 waiting to see what she would do with her victory. 
 "It seems that you are sorry I have discovered 
 you," she added presently, looking down at her 
 hands. 
 
 " Is that all ! " he said, with a bitter sneer on 
 his pale young face. 
 
 " Then, since you are sorry, you must have a 
 reason for concealment," she went on, as though re 
 flecting on the situation. It was deftly done, and 
 Nino took heart. 
 
 " Signora," he said in a trembling voice, " it is 
 natural that a man should wish to live. I give les 
 sons now, until I have appeared in public, to sup 
 port myself." 
 
 " Ah I begin to understand," said the baron 
 ess. In reality, she began to doubt, reflecting that 
 if this were the whole truth Nino would be too 
 proud or any other Italian to say it so plainly. 
 She was subtle, the baroness ! 
 
 "And do you suppose," he continued, "that if 
 once the Conte di Lira had an idea that I was to 
 be a public singer he would employ me as a teacher 
 for his daughter?"
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 71 
 
 " No, but others might," she objected. 
 
 " But not the count," Nino bit his lip, fearing 
 he had betrayed himself. 
 
 " Nor the contessina," laughed the baroness, com 
 pleting the sentence. He saw at a glance what she 
 suspected, and instead of keeping cool grew angry. 
 
 " I came here, Signora Baronessa, not to be cross- 
 examined, but to teach you Italian. Since you do 
 not desire to study, I will say good-morning." He 
 took his hat, and moved proudly to the door. 
 
 " Come here," she said, not raising her voice, but 
 still commanding. He turned, hesitated, and came 
 back. He thought her voice was changed. She 
 .rose, and swept her silken morning-gown between 
 the chairs and tables, till she reached a deep divan 
 on the other side of the room. There she sat down. 
 
 " Come and sit beside me," she said kindly, and 
 he obeyed in silence. 
 
 " Do you know what would have happened," she 
 continued, when he was seated, " if you had left me 
 just now? I would have gone to the Graf von 
 Lira and told him that you were not a fit person to 
 teach his daughter ; that you are a singer, and not 
 a professor at all ; and that you have assumed this 
 disguise for the sake of seeing his daughter." But 
 I do not believe that she would have done it. 
 
 " That would have been a betrayal," said Nino 
 fiercely, looking away from her. She laughed 
 lightly^ 
 
 "Is it not natural," she asked, "that I should 
 make inquiries about my Italian teacher, before I
 
 72 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 begin lessons with him? And if I find he is not 
 what he pretends to be, should I not warn iny in 
 timate friends ? " She spoke so reasonably that he 
 was fain to acknowledge that she was right. 
 
 "It is just," he said sullenly. "But you have 
 been very quick to make your inquiries, as you call 
 them." 
 
 " The time was short, since you were to come this 
 morning." 
 
 " That is true," he answered. He moved uneasily. 
 " And now, signora, will you be kind enough to tell 
 me what you intend to do with me ? " 
 
 " Certainly, since you are more reasonable. You 
 see I treat you altogether as an artist, and not at 
 all as an Italian master. A great artist may idle 
 away a morning in a woman's boudoir; a simple 
 teacher of languages must be more industrious." 
 
 " But I am not a great artist," said Nino, whose 
 vanity we all have it began to flutter a little. 
 
 "You will be one before long, and one of the 
 greatest. You are a boy yet, my little tenor," said 
 she, looking at him with her dark eyes, "and I 
 might almost be your mother. How old are you, 
 Signer Nino ? " 
 
 "I was twenty on my last birthday," he an 
 swered, blushing. 
 
 " You see ! I am thirty at least," she added, 
 with a short laugh. 
 
 "Well, signora, what of that?" asked Nino, 
 half amused. " I wish I were thirty myself." 
 
 " I am glad you are not," said she. " Now listen.
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 73 
 
 You are completely in my power, do you under 
 stand ? Yes. And you are apparently very much 
 in love with my young friend, the Contessina di 
 Ly-a " Nino sprang to his feet, his face white 
 again, but with rage this time. 
 
 " Signora," he cried, " this is too much ! It is 
 insufferable! Good-morning," and he made as 
 though he would go. 
 
 " Very well," said the baroness ; " then I will go 
 to the Graf and explain who you are. Ah you 
 are calm again in a moment ? Sit down. Now I 
 have discovered you, and I have a right to you, do 
 you see ? It is fortunate for you that I like you." 
 
 " You ! You like me ? In truth, you act as 
 though you did ! Besides, you are a stranger, Sig- 
 iiora Baronessa, and a great lady. I never saw you 
 till yesterday." But he resumed his seat. 
 
 " Good," said she. " Is not the Signorina Ed- 
 vigia a great lady, and was there never a day when 
 she was a stranger too? " 
 
 "I do not understand your caprices, signora. 
 In fine, what do you want of me ? " 
 
 " It is not necessary that you should understand 
 me," answered the dark-eyed baroness. " Do you 
 think I would hurt you or rather your voice? " 
 
 " I do not know." 
 
 " You know very well that I would not ; and as 
 for my caprices, as you call them, do you think it 
 is a caprice to love music? No, of course not. 
 And who loves music loves musicians ; at least," 
 she added, with a most enchanting smile, " enough
 
 74 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 to wish to have them near one. That is all. I 
 want you to come here often and sing- to me. Will 
 you come and sing to me, my little tenor ? " 
 
 Nino would not have been human had he not felt 
 the flattery through the sting. And I always say 
 that singers are the vainest kind of people. 
 
 " It is very like singing in a cage," he said, in 
 protest. Nevertheless, he knew he must submit ; 
 for, however narrow his experience might be, this 
 woman's smile and winning grace, even when she 
 said the hardest things, told him that she would 
 have her own way. He had the sense to under 
 stand, too, that whatever her plans might be, their 
 object was to bring him near to herself, a reflection 
 which was extremely soothing to his vanity. 
 
 " If you will come and sing to me, only to me, 
 of course, for I would not ask you to compromise 
 your debut, but if you will come and sing to me, 
 we shall be very good friends. Does it seem to you 
 such a terrible penance to sing to me in my soli 
 tude ? " 
 
 " It is never a penance to sing," said Nino sim 
 ply. A shade of annoyance crossed the baroness's 
 face. 
 
 " Provided," she said, " it entails nothing. Well, 
 we will not talk about the terms." 
 
 They say women sometimes fall in love with a 
 voice : vox et prceterea nihil, as the poet has it. I 
 do not know whether that is what happened to the 
 baroness at first, but it has always seemed strange 
 to me that she should have given herself so much
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 75 
 
 trouble to secure Nino, unless she had a very strong 
 fancy for him. I, for iny part, think that when a 
 lady of her condition takes such a sudden caprice 
 into her head, she thinks it necessary to maltreat 
 the poor man a little at first, just to satisfy her con 
 science, and to be able to say later that she did not 
 encourage him. I have had some experience, as 
 everybody is aware, and so I may speak boldly. 
 On the other hand, a man like Nino, when he is in 
 love, is absolutely blind to other women. There 
 is only one idea in his soul that has any life, and 
 every one outside that idea is only so much land 
 scape ; they are no better for him the other wo 
 men than a museum of wax dolls. 
 
 The baroness, as you have seen, had Nino in her 
 power, and there was nothing for it but submis 
 sion ; he came and went at her bidding, and often 
 she would send for him when he least expected it. 
 He would do as she commanded, somewhat sullenly 
 and with a bad grace, but obediently, for all that ; 
 she had his destiny in her hands, and could in a 
 moment frustrate all his hopes. But, of course, she 
 knew that if she betrayed him to the count, Nino 
 would be lost to her also, since he came to her only 
 in order to maintain his relations with Hedwig. 
 
 Meanwhile, the blue-eyed maiden of the North 
 waxed fitful. Sometimes two or three lessons 
 would pass in severe study. Nino, who always took 
 care to know the passages they were reading, so 
 that he might look at her instead of at his book, 
 had instituted an arrangement by which they sat
 
 76 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 opposite each other at a small table. He would 
 watch her every movement and look, and carry 
 away a series of photographs of her, a whole 
 row, like the little books of Roman views they sell 
 in the streets, strung together on a strip of paper, 
 and these views of her lasted with him for two 
 whole days, until he saw her again. But sometimes 
 he would catch a glimpse of her in the interval, 
 driving with her father. 
 
 There were other days when Hedwig could not 
 be induced to study, but would overwhelm Nino 
 with questions about his wonderful cousin who 
 sang ; so that he longed with his whole soul to tell 
 her it was he himself who had sung. She saw his 
 reluctance to speak about it, and she blushed when 
 she mentioned the night at the Pantheon ; but for 
 her life she could not help talking of the pleasure 
 she had had. Her blushes seemed like the promise 
 of spring roses to her lover, who drank of the air 
 of her presence till that subtle ether ran like fire 
 through his veins. He was nothing to her, he 
 could see ; but the singer of the Pantheon engrossed 
 her thoughts and brought the hot blood to her 
 cheek. The beam of moonlight had pierced the 
 soft virgin darkness of her sleeping soul, and found 
 a heart so cold and spotless that even a moon ray 
 was warm by comparison. And the voice that 
 sang "Spirto gentil dei sogni miei" had itself 
 become by memory the gentle spirit of her own 
 dreams. She is so full of imagination, this statue 
 of Nino's, that she heard the notes echoing after
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 77 
 
 her by day and night, till she thought she must go 
 mad unless she could hear the reality again. As 
 the great solemn statue of Egyptian Memnon mur 
 murs sweet, soft sounds to its mighty self at sun 
 rise, a musical whisper in the desert, so the pure 
 white marble of Nino's living statue vibrated with 
 strange harmonies all the day long. 
 
 One night, as Nino walked homeward with De 
 Pretis, who had come to supper with us, he induced 
 the maestro to go out of his way at least half a 
 mile, to pass the Palazzo Carmandola. It was a 
 still night, not over-cold for December, and there 
 were neither stars nor moon. As they passed the 
 great house Nino saw a light in Hedwig's sitting- 
 room the room where he gave her the lessons. 
 It was late, and she must be alone. On a sudden 
 he stopped. 
 
 " What is the matter? " asked De Pretis. 
 
 For all answer, Nino, standing in the dark street 
 below, lifted up his voice and sang the first notes 
 of the air he always associated with his beautiful 
 contessina. Before he had sung a dozen bars, the 
 window opened, and the girl's figure could be seen, 
 black against the light within. He went on for a 
 few notes, and then ceased suddenly. 
 
 " Let us go," he said in a low voice to Ercole ; 
 and they went away, leaving the contessina listen 
 ing in the stillness to the echo of their feet. A 
 Roman girl would not have done that ; she would 
 have sat quietly inside, and never have shown her 
 self. But foreigners are so impulsive !
 
 78 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 Nino never heard the last of those few notes, any 
 more than the contessina, literally speaking, ever 
 heard the end of the song 1 . 
 
 " Your cousin, about whom you make so much 
 mystery, passed under my window last night," said 
 the young lady the next day, with the usual dis 
 play of carnation in her cheeks at the mention of 
 him. 
 
 "Indeed, signorina?" said Nino calmly, for he 
 expected the remark. " And since you have never 
 seen him, pray how did you know it was he ? " 
 
 " How should one know ? " she asked scornfully. 
 "There are not two such voices as his in Italy. 
 He sang." 
 
 " He sang ? " cried Nino, with an affectation of 
 alarm. "I must tell the maestro not to let him 
 sing in the open air ; he will lose his voice." 
 
 " Who is his master ? " asked Hedwig, suddenly. 
 
 "I cannot remember the name just now," said 
 Nino, looking away. " But I will find out, if you 
 wish." He was afraid of putting De Pretis to any 
 inconvenience by saying that the young singer was 
 his pupil. " However," he continued, " you will 
 hear him sing as often as you please, after he makes 
 his debut next month." He sighed when he thought 
 that it would all so soon be over. For how could 
 he disguise himself any longer, when he should be 
 singing in public every night ? But Hedwig clapped 
 her hands. 
 
 " So soon ? " she cried. " Then there will be an 
 end of the mystery."
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 79 
 
 " Yes," said Nino gravely, " there will be an end 
 of the mystery." 
 
 " At least you can tell me his name, now that we 
 shall all know it ? " 
 
 " Oh, his name his name is Cardegna, like 
 mine. He is my cousin, you know." And they 
 went on with the lesson. But something of the 
 kind occurred almost every time he came, so that he 
 felt quite sure that, however indifferent he might be 
 in her eyes, the singer, the Nino of whom she knew 
 nothing, interested her deeply. 
 
 Meanwhile he was obliged to go very often to the 
 baroness's scented boudoir, which smelled of incense 
 and other Eastern perfumes, whenever it did not 
 smell of cigarettes ; and there he sang little songs, 
 and submitted patiently to her demands for more 
 and more music. She would sit by the piano and 
 watch him as he sang, wondering whether he were 
 handsome or ugly, with his square face and broad 
 throat and the black circles round his eyes. He 
 had a fascination for her, as being something ut 
 terly new to her. 
 
 One day she stood and looked over the music as 
 he sang, almost touching him, and his hair was so 
 curly and soft to look at that she was seized with a 
 desire to stroke it, as Mariuccia strokes the old gray 
 cat for hours together. The action was quite invol 
 untary, and her fingers rested only a moment on his 
 head. 
 
 " It is so curly," she said, half playfully, half 
 apologetically. But Nino started as though he had
 
 80 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 been stung, and his dark face grew pale. A girl 
 could not have seemed more hurt at a strange man's 
 touch. 
 
 " Signora! " he cried, springing to his feet. The 
 baroness, who is as dark as he, blushed almost red, 
 partly because she was angry, and partly because 
 she was ashamed. 
 
 " What a boy you are ! " she said, carelessly 
 enough, and turned away to the window, pushing 
 back one heavy curtain with her delicate hand, as 
 if she would look out. 
 
 " Pardon me, signora, I am not a boy," said Nino, 
 speaking to the back of her head as he stood behind 
 her. " It is time we understood each other better. 
 I love like a man and I hate like a man. I love 
 some one very much." 
 
 " Fortunate contessina ! " laughed the baroness, 
 mockingly, without turning round. 
 
 " It does not concern you, signora, to know whom 
 I love, nor, if you know, to speak of her. I ask 
 you a simple question. If you loved a man with 
 your whole soul and heart, would you allow another 
 man to stand beside you and stroke your hair, and 
 say it was curly ? " The baroness burst out laugh 
 ing. " Do not laugh," he continued. " Remember 
 that I am in your power only so long as it pleases 
 me to submit to you. Do not abuse your advan 
 tage, or I will be capable of creating for myself 
 situations quite as satisfactory as that of Italian 
 master to the Signorina di Lira." 
 
 " What do you mean? " she asked, turning sud-
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 81 
 
 denly upon him. " I suppose you would tell me 
 that you will make advantages for yourself which 
 you will abuse, against me ? What do you mean ? " 
 
 " I do not mean that. I mean only that I may 
 not wish to give lessons to the contessina much 
 longer." By this time the baroness had recovered 
 her equanimity ; and as she would have been sorry 
 to lose Nino, who was a source of infinite pleasure 
 and amusement to her, she decided to pacify him, 
 instead of teasing him any more. 
 
 " Is it not very foolish for us to quarrel about 
 your curly hair ? " said she. " We have been such 
 good friends, always." It might have been three 
 weeks, her " always." 
 
 " I think it is," answered Nino gravely. " But do 
 not stroke my hair again, Signora Baronessa, or I 
 shall be angry." He was quite serious, if you be 
 lieve it, though he was only twenty. He forthwith 
 sat down to the piano again and sang on. The 
 baroness sat very silent and scarcely looked at him ; 
 but she held her hands clasped on her knee, and 
 seemed to be thinking. After a time Nino stopped 
 singing, and sat silent also, absently turning over 
 the sheets of music. It was warm in the room, and 
 the sounds from the street were muffled and far 
 away. 
 
 " Signer Nino," said the lady at last, in a differ 
 ent voice, " I am married." 
 
 " Yes, signora," he replied, wondering what would 
 come next. 
 
 " It would be very foolish of me to care for you." 
 6
 
 82 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 "It would also be very wicked," he said calmly; 
 for he is well grounded in religion. The baroness 
 stared at him in some surprise ; but seeing he was 
 perfectly serious, she went on. 
 
 " Precisely, as you say, very wicked. That being 
 the case, I have decided not to care for you any 
 more I mean, not to care for you at all. I have 
 made up my mind to be your friend;" 
 
 " I am much obliged to your ladyship," he an 
 swered, without moving a muscle. For you see, he 
 did not believe her. 
 
 "Now tell me, then, Signer Nino, are you in 
 earnest in what you are doing ? Do you really set 
 your heart on doing this thing? " 
 
 " What ? " asked Nino, annoyed at the persist 
 ence of the woman. 
 
 "Why need you be afraid to understand me? 
 Can you not forgive me ? Can you not believe in 
 me, that I will be your friend? I have always 
 dreamed of being the friend of a great artist. Let 
 me be yours, and believe me, the thing you have 
 in your heart shall be done." 
 
 " I would like to hope so," he said. But he 
 smiled incredulously. " I can only say that if you 
 can accomplish what it is in my heart to do, I will 
 go through fire and water at your bidding ; and if 
 you are not mocking me, I am very grateful for the 
 offer. But if you please, signora, we will not speak 
 any more of this at present. I may be a great ar 
 tist, some day. Sometimes I feel sure that I shall. 
 But now I am simply Giovanni Cardegna, teacher
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 83 
 
 of literature ; and the highest favor you can confer 
 on me is not to deprive me of my means of support, 
 by revealing to the Conte di Lira my other occupa 
 tion. I may fail hopelessly at the outset of my 
 artistic career, and in that case I shall certainly 
 remain a teacher of language." 
 
 " Very well," said the baroness, in a subdued 
 voice ; for, in spite of her will and willfulness, this 
 square-faced boy of mine was more than a match 
 for her. " Very well, you will believe me another 
 day, and now I will ask you to go, for I am tired." 
 
 I cannot be interrupted by your silly questions 
 about the exact way in which things happened. I 
 must tell this story in my own way, or not at all ; 
 and I am sacrificing a great deal to your taste in 
 cutting out all the little things that I really most 
 enjoy telling. Whether you are astonished at the 
 conduct of the baroness, after a three weeks' ac 
 quaintance, or not, I care not a fig. It is just the 
 way it happened, and I dare say she was really 
 madly in love with Nino. If I had been Nino, I 
 should have been in love with her. But I would 
 like you to admire my boy's audacity, and to review 
 the situation, before I go on to speak of that im 
 portant event in his life, his first appearance on the 
 boards of the opera. At the time of his ddbut he 
 was still disguised as a teacher of Italian to the 
 young contessina. She thought him interesting 
 and intelligent, but that was all. Her thoughts 
 were entirely, though secretly, engrossed by the 
 mysterious singer, whom she had heard twice, but
 
 84 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 had not seen, as far as she knew. Nino, on the 
 other hand, loved her to desperation, and would 
 have acted like a madman had he been deprived of 
 his privilege of speaking to her three times a week. 
 He loved her with the same earnest determination 
 to win her that he had shown for years in the study 
 of his art, and with all the rest of his nature be 
 sides, which is saying much not to mention his 
 soul, of which he thinks a great deal more than 
 I do. 
 
 Besides this, the baroness had apparently fallen 
 in love with him, had made him her intimate, and 
 flattered him in a way to turn his head. Then she 
 seemed to have thought better of her passion, and 
 had promised him her friendship, a promise 
 which he himself considered of no importance 
 whatever. As for the old Conte di Lira, he read 
 the German newspapers, and cared for none of 
 these things. De Pretis took an extra pinch of his 
 good snuff, when he thought that his liberal ideas 
 might yet be realized, and a man from the people 
 marry a great lady by fairly winning her. Do not, 
 after this, complain that I have left you in the 
 dark, or that you do not know how it happened. 
 It is as clear as water, and it was about four 
 months from the time Nino saw Hedwig in St. Pe 
 ter's to the time when he first sang in public. 
 
 Christmas passed by, thank Heaven, the mu 
 nicipality has driven away those most detestable 
 pifferari, who played on their discordant bagpipes 
 at every corner for a fortnight, and nearly drove
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 85 
 
 me crazy, and the Befana, as we call the Epiph 
 any in Rome, was gone, with its gay racket, and 
 the night fair in the Piazza Navona, and the days 
 for Nino's first appearance drew near. I never 
 knew anything about the business arrangements for 
 the debut, since De Pretis settled all that with 
 Jacovacci, the impresario ; but I know that there 
 were many rehearsals, and that I was obliged to 
 stand security to the theatrical tailor, together with 
 De Pretis, in order that Nino might have his dress 
 made. As for the cowl in the last act, De Pretis 
 has a brother who is a monk, and between them 
 they put together a very decent friar's costume ; 
 and Mariuccia had a good piece of rope, which 
 Nino used for a girdle. 
 
 " What does it matter ? " he said, with much 
 good sense. " For if I sing well, they will not look 
 at my monk's hood ; and if I sing badly, I may be 
 dressed like the Holy Father, and they will hiss me 
 just the same. But in the beginning I must look 
 like a courtier, and be dressed like one." 
 
 " I suppose so," said I ; " but I wish you had 
 taken to philosophy."
 
 VI. 
 
 I SHALL never forget the day of Nino's first ap 
 pearance. You may imagine whether we were in 
 a state of excitement or not, after all these years 
 of study and waiting. There was much more 
 trouble and worry than if he had written a great 
 book, and was just to publish it, and receive the 
 homage of all the learning and talent in Europe ; 
 which is the kind of debut I had hoped he would 
 make in life, instead of putting on a foolish dress, 
 and stamping about on a stage, and squalling love 
 songs to a packed house, making pantomime with 
 his hands, and altogether behaving like an idiot, 
 a crowd of people ready to hiss him at the slightest 
 indication of weakness, or to carry him on their 
 shoulders if they fancied his voice to their taste. 
 
 No wonder Nino was sad and depressed all day, 
 and when he tried his voice in the afternoon thought 
 it was less clear than usual, and stared at himself 
 in the looking-glass, wondering whether he were not 
 too ugly altogether, as I always told him. To tell 
 the truth, he was not so ugly as he had been ; for 
 the months with the contessina had refined him sin 
 gularly, and perhaps he had caught a certain grace 
 of manner from the baroness. He had grown more 
 silent, too, and seemed always preoccupied, as well
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 87 
 
 he might be ; but he had concealed his affair with 
 the Lira family from me until that day, and I sup 
 posed him anxious about his appearance. 
 
 Early in the morning came De Pretis, and sug 
 gested that it would be better for Nino to take a 
 walk and breathe the fresh air a little ; so I bade 
 him go, and I did not see him again until the after 
 noon. De Pretis said that the only cause for anxi 
 ety was from stage fright, and went away taking 
 snuff and flourishing his immense cotton handker 
 chief. I thought a man must be a fool to work 
 for years in order to sing, and then, when he had 
 learned to do it quite well, to be afraid of showing 
 what he knew. I did not think Nino would be 
 frightened. 
 
 Of course, there was a final rehearsal at eleven, 
 and Nino put off the hour of the lesson with the 
 contessina to three in the afternoon, by some ex 
 cuse or other. He must have felt very much 
 pressed for time, having to give her a lesson on the 
 very day of his coming out ; and besides, he knew 
 very well that it might be the last of his days with 
 her, and that a great deal would depend on the way 
 he bore himself at his trial. He sang badly, or 
 thought he did, at the rehearsal, and grew more 
 and more depressed and grave as the day advanced. 
 He came out of the little stage door of the Apollo 
 theatre at Tordinona, and his eyes fell upon the 
 broad bills and posters announcing the first appear 
 ance of " Giovanni Cardegna, the most distin 
 guished pupil of the Maestro Ercole De Pretis, in
 
 88 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 Verdi's opera the Favorita." His heart sank at 
 the sight of his own name, and he turned towards 
 the Bridge of Sant' Angelo to get away from it. 
 He was the last to leave the theatre, and De Pretis 
 was with him. 
 
 At that moment he saw Hedwig von Lira sitting 
 in an open carriage, in front of the box office. De 
 Pretis bowed low ; she smiled ; and Nino took off 
 his hat, but would not go near her, escaping in the 
 opposite direction. He thought she looked some 
 what surprised, but his only idea was to get away, 
 lest she should call him and put some awkward 
 question. 
 
 An hour and a half later he entered her sitting- 
 room. There she sat, as usual, with her books, 
 awaiting him perhaps for the last time, a fair, girl 
 ish figure with gold hair, but oh, so cold ! it 
 makes me shiver to think of how she used to look. 
 Possibly there was a dreaminess about her blue 
 eyes that made up for her manner ; but how Nino 
 could love her, I cannot understand. It must have 
 been like making love to a pillar of ice. 
 
 " I am much indebted to you for allowing me to 
 come at this hour, signorina," he said, as he bowed. 
 
 "Ah, professore, it looks almost as though it 
 were you yourself who were to make your debut," 
 said she, laughing and leaning back in her chair. 
 " Your name is on every corner in Rome, and I 
 saw you coming out of a side door of the theatre 
 this morning." Nino trembled, but reflected that 
 if she had suspected anything she would not have 
 made so light of it.
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 89 
 
 " The fact is, signorina, my cousin is so nervous 
 that he begged me earnestly to be present at the 
 rehearsal this morning ; and as it is the great event 
 of his life, I could not easily refuse him. I pre 
 sume you are going to hear him, since I saw your 
 carriage at the theatre." 
 
 " Yes. At the last minute, my father wanted to 
 change our box for one nearer the stage, and so 
 we went ourselves. The baroness you know, the 
 lady who went with us to the Pantheon is going 
 with us to-night." It was the first time Hedwig 
 had mentioned her, and it was evident that Nino's 
 intimacy with the baroness had been kept a secret. 
 How long would it be so ? Mechanically he pro 
 ceeded with the lesson, thinking mournfully that he 
 should never give her another. But Hedwig was 
 more animated than he had ever seen her, and 
 often stopped to ask questions about the coming 
 performance. It was evident that she was entirely 
 absorbed with the thought of at last hearing to its 
 fullest extent the voice that had haunted her 
 dreams ; most of all, with the anticipation of what 
 this wonderful singer would be like. Dwelling on 
 the echo of his singing for months had roused her 
 interest and curiosity to such a pitch that she could 
 hardly be quiet a moment, or think calmly of what 
 she was to enjoy ; and yet she looked so very cold 
 and indifferent at most times. But Nino had no 
 ticed all this, and rejoiced at it ; young as he was, 
 however, he understood that the discovery she was 
 about to make would be a shock that would cer-
 
 90 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 tainly produce some palpable result, when she 
 should see him from her box in the theatre. He 
 trembled for the consequences. 
 
 The lesson was over all too soon, and Nino lin 
 gered a moment to see whether the very last drops 
 of his cup of happiness might not still be sweet. 
 He did not know when he should see her again, 
 to speak with her; and though he determined it 
 should not be long, the future seemed very uncer 
 tain, and he would look on her loveliness while he 
 might. 
 
 " I hope you will like my cousin's singing," he 
 said, rather timidly. 
 
 " If he sings as he has sung before he is the 
 greatest artist living," she said calmly, as though 
 no one would dispute it. " But I am curious to 
 see him, as well as to hear him." 
 
 " He is not handsome," said Nino, smiling a lit 
 tle. " In fact, there is a family resemblance ; he is 
 said to look like me." 
 
 " Why did you not tell me that before ? " she 
 asked quickly, and fixed her blue eyes on Nino's 
 face, as though she wished to photograph the fea 
 tures in her mind. 
 
 "I did not suppose the signorina would think 
 twice about a singer's appearance," said Nino qui 
 etly. Hedwig blushed and turned awa} r , busying 
 herself with her books. At that moment Graf 
 vori Lira entered from the next room. Nino 
 bowed. 
 
 " Curious is it," said the count, " that you and
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 91 
 
 the about-to-make-his-appearance tenor should the 
 same name have." 
 
 "He is a near relation, Signor Conte, the same 
 whom you heard sing in the Pantheon. I hope 
 you will like his voice." 
 
 " That is what we shall see, Signor Professore," 
 answered the other severely. He had a curious 
 way of bowing, as though he were made only in 
 two pieces, from his waist to his heels, and from 
 his waist to the crown of his head. Nino went his 
 way sadly, and wondering how Hedwig would look 
 when she should recognize him from her box in the 
 theatre, that very evening. 
 
 It is a terrible and a heart-tearing thing to part 
 from the woman one loves. That is nothing new, 
 you say. Every one knows that. Perhaps so, 
 though I think not. Only those can know it who 
 have experienced it, and for them no explanations 
 are in any way at all necessary. The mere word 
 " parting " calls up such an infinity of sorrow that 
 it is better to draw a veil over the sad thing and 
 bury it out of sight, and put upon it the seal on 
 which is graven " No Hope." 
 
 Moreover, when a man only supposes, as Nino 
 did, that he is leaving the woman he loves, or is 
 about to leave her, until he can devise some new 
 plan for seeing her, the case is not so very serious. 
 Nevertheless, Nino, who is of a very tender con 
 stitution of the affections, suffered certain pangs 
 which are always hard to bear, and as he walked 
 slowly down the street he hung his head low, and
 
 92 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 did not look like a man who could possibly be suc 
 cessful in anything he might undertake that day. 
 Yet it was the most important day of his life, and 
 had it not been that he had left Hedwig with little 
 hope of ever giving her another lesson, he would 
 have been so happy that the whole air would have 
 seemed dancing with sunbeams and angels and 
 flowers. I think that when a man loves he cares 
 very little for what he does. The greatest success 
 is indifferent to him, and he cares not at all for 
 failure, in the ordinary undertakings of life. These 
 are my reflections, and they are worth something, 
 because I once loved very much myself, and was 
 parted from her I loved many times, before the last 
 parting. 
 
 It was on this day that Nino came to me and 
 told me all the history of the past months, of which 
 I knew nothing ; but, as you know all about it, I 
 need not tell you what the conversation was like, 
 until he had finished. Then I told him he was 
 the prince and chief of donkeys, which was no more 
 than the truth, as everybody will allow. He only 
 spread out his palms and shrugged his shoulders, 
 putting his head on one side, as though to say he 
 could not help it. 
 
 " Is it perhaps my fault that you are a little don 
 key?" I asked; for you may imagine whether I 
 was angry or not. 
 
 " Certainly not, Sor Cornelio," he said. " It is 
 entirely my own doing; but I do not see that I ana 
 a donkey."
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 93 
 
 " Blood of Bacchus ! " I ejaculated, holding up 
 my hands. " He does not believe he is a great 
 stupid ! " But Nino was not angry at all. He 
 busied himself a little with his costume, which was 
 laid out 011 the piano, with the sword and the tinsel 
 collar, and all the rest of it. 
 
 " I am in love," he said. " What would you 
 have ? " 
 
 " I would have you put a little giudizio, just a 
 grain of judgment and common sense, into your 
 love affairs. Why, you go about it as though it 
 were the most innocent thing in the world to dis 
 guise yourself, and present yourself as a professor 
 in a nobleman's house, in order to make love to his 
 daughter ! You, to make love to a noble damigella, 
 a young countess, with a fortune ! Go back to 
 Serveti, and marry the first contadina girl you 
 meet ; it is much more fitting, if you must needs 
 marry at all. I repeat it, you are an ignorant don- 
 key!" 
 
 " Eh ! " cried Nino, perfectly unmoved, " if I am 
 ignorant, it is not for lack of your teaching ; and as 
 for being the beast of burden to which you refer, I 
 have heard it said that you were once in love your 
 self. Meanwhile, I have told you this, because 
 there will perhaps be trouble, and I did not intend 
 you to be surprised." 
 
 " Surprised ? " said I. " I would not be sur 
 prised at anything you might fancy doing, now. 
 No, I would not dream of being surprised ! " 
 
 " So much the better," answered Nino impertur-
 
 94 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 bably. He looked sad and weary, though, and as I 
 am a prudent man I put my anger away to cool for 
 a little while, and indulged in a cigar until it should 
 be time to go to the theatre ; for of course I went 
 with him, and Mariuccia too, to help him with his 
 dress. Poor old Mariuccia ! she had dressed him 
 when he was a ragged little boy, and she was deter 
 mined to put the finishing touches to his appear 
 ance now that he was about to be a great man, she 
 said. His dressing-room was a narrow little place, 
 sufficiently ill lighted, and there was barely space 
 to turn round. Mariuccia, who had brought the cat 
 and had her pocket full of roasted chestnuts, sat 
 outside on a chair until he was ready for her ; and 
 I am sure that if she had spent her life in the pro 
 fession of adorning players she could not have used 
 her fingers more deftly in the arrangement of the 
 collar and sword. Nino had a fancy to wear a 
 mustache and a pointed beard through the first part 
 of the opera ; saying that a courtier always had 
 hair on his face, but that he would naturally shave 
 if he turned monk. I represented to him that it 
 was needless expense, since he must deposit the 
 value of the false beard with the theatre barber, 
 who lives opposite ; and it was twenty-three francs. 
 Besides, he would look like a different man two 
 separate characters. 
 
 " I do not care a cabbage for that," said Nino. 
 " If they cannot recognize me with their ears, they 
 need not trouble themselves to recognize me at all." 
 
 " It is a fact that their ears are quite long 
 enough," said Mariuccia.
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 95 
 
 " Hush, Mariuccia ! " I said. " The Roman pub 
 lic is the most intelligent public in the world." 
 And at this she grumbled. 
 
 But I knew well enough why he wanted to wear 
 the beard. He had a fancy to put off the evil mo 
 ment as long as possible, so that Hedwig might not 
 recognize him till the last act, a foolish fancy, in 
 truth, for a woman's eyes are not like a man's; 
 and though Hedwig had never thought twice about 
 Nino's personality, she had not sat opposite him 
 three times a week for nearly four months without 
 knowing all his looks and gestures. It is an absurd 
 idea, too, to attempt to fence with time, when a 
 thing must come in the course of an hour or two. 
 What is it, after all, the small delay you can pro 
 duce? The click of a few more seconds in the 
 clock-work, before the hammer smites its angry 
 warning on the bell, and leaves echoes of pain 
 writhing through the poor bronze, that is Time. 
 As for Eternity, it is a question of the calculus, and 
 does not enter into a singer's first appearance, nor 
 into the recognition of a lover. If it did, I would 
 give you an eloquent dissertation upon it, so that 
 you would yawn and take snuff, and wish me car 
 ried off by the diavolo to some place where I might 
 lecture on the infinite without fear of being inter 
 rupted, or of keeping sinners like you imnecessarily 
 long awake. There will be no hurry then. Poor 
 old diavolo ! he must have a dull time of it among: 
 
 o 
 
 all those heretics. Perhaps he has a little variety, 
 for they say he has written up on his door, " Ici Ton
 
 96 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 parle fran^ais," since Monsieur de Voltaire died. 
 But I must go on, or you will never be any wiser 
 than you are now, which is not saying overmuch. 
 
 I am not going to give you a description of the 
 Favorite, which you may hear a dozen times a year 
 at the theatre, for more or less money but it is 
 only a franc if you stand ; quite enough, too. I 
 went upon the stage before it began, and peeped 
 through the curtain to see what kind of an audience 
 there was. It is an old curtain, and there is a hole 
 in it on the right-hand side, which De Pretis says 
 was made by a foreign tenor, some years ago, be 
 tween the acts ; and Jacovacci, the impresario, tried 
 to make him pay five francs to have it repaired, but 
 did not get the money. It is a better hole than the 
 one in the middle, which is so far from both sides 
 of the house that you cannot see the people well. 
 So I looked through, and there, sure enough, in a 
 box very near to the stage, sat the Contessina di 
 Lira and the baroness, whom I had never seen be 
 fore, but recognized from Nino's description ; and 
 behind them sat the count himself, with his great 
 gray mustaches and a white cravat. They made me 
 think of the time when I used to go to the theatre 
 myself and sit in a box, and applaud or hiss, just 
 as I pleased. Dio mio ! what changes in this 
 world ! 
 
 I recognized also a great many of our noble 
 ladies, with jewels and other ornaments, and it 
 seemed to me that some of them were much more 
 beautiful than the German contessiua whom Nino
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 97 
 
 had elected to worship, though she was well enough, 
 to be sure, in white silk and white fur, with her little 
 gold cross at her throat. To think that a statue 
 like that, brought up with all the proprieties, should 
 have such a strange chapter of life ! But my eye 
 began to smart from peering through the little hole, 
 and just then a rough-looking fellow connected with 
 the stage reminded me that, whatever relation I 
 might be to the primo tenore, I was not dressed to 
 appear in the first act ; then the audience began to 
 stamp and groan because the performance did not 
 begin, and I went away again to tell Nino that he 
 had a packed house. I found De Pretis giving 
 him blackberry syrup, which he had brought in a 
 bottle, and entreating him to have courage. Indeed, 
 it seemed to me that Nino had the more courage of 
 the two ; for De Pretis laughed and cried and blew 
 his nose, and took snuff with his great fat fingers, 
 and acted altogether like a poor fool; while Nino 
 sat on a rush-bottomed chair and watched Mariuccia, 
 who was stroking the old cat and nibbling roasted 
 chestnuts, declaring all the while that Nino was the 
 most beautiful object she had ever seen. Then the 
 bass and the baritone came, together, and spoke 
 cheering words to Nino, and invited him to supper 
 afterwards ; but he thanked them kindly, and told 
 them that he was expected at home, and would go 
 with them after the next performance if there 
 ever were a " next." He thought he might fail at 
 the last minute. 
 
 Nino had judged more rightly than I, when he 
 7
 
 98 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 supposed that his beard and mustaches would dis 
 guise him from Hedwig during the first two acts. 
 She recognized the wondrous voice, and she saw the 
 strong resemblance he had spoken of. Once or 
 twice, as he looked toward her, it seemed indeed 
 that the eyes must be his, with their deep circles 
 and serious gaze. But it was absurd to suppose it 
 anything more than a resemblance. As the opera 
 advanced, it became evident that Nino was making 
 a success. Then in the second act it was clear that 
 the success was growing to be an ovation, and the 
 ovation a furore, in which the house became entirely 
 demoralized, and vouchsafed to listen only so long 
 as Nino was singing screaming with delight be 
 fore he had finished what he had to sing in each 
 scene. People sent their servants away in hot 
 haste to buy flowers wherever they could, and he 
 came back to his dressing-room, from the second 
 act, carrying bouquets by the dozen, small bunches 
 and big, such as people had been able to get, or had 
 brought with them. His eyes shone like the coals 
 in Mariuccia's scaldino, as he entered, and he was 
 pale through his paint. He could hardly speak 
 for joy ; but, as old habits return unconsciously at 
 great moments in a man's life, he took the cat on 
 his knee and pulled its tail. 
 
 "Sing thou also, little beast," he said gravely; 
 and he pulled the tail till the cat squeaked a little, 
 and he was satisfied. 
 
 " Bene ! " he cried ; " and now for the tonsure 
 and frock. So Mariuccia was turned out into the
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 99 
 
 passage while he changed his dress. De Pretis 
 came back a moment later, and tried to help him ; 
 but he was so much overcome that he could only 
 shed tears and give a last word of advice for the 
 next act. 
 
 " You must not sing it too loud, Nino mio," he 
 said. 
 
 " Diavolo ! " said Nino. " I should think not ! " 
 
 " But you must not squeak it out in a little wee 
 false voice, as small as this ; " the maestro held up 
 his thumb and finger, with a pinch of snuff between 
 them. 
 
 " Bah ! Sor Ercole, do you take me for a so 
 prano ? " cried the boy, laughing, as he washed off 
 the paint and the gum, where the beard had stuck. 
 Presently he got into his frock, which, as I told you, 
 was a real one, provided by Ercole's brother, the 
 Franciscan quite quietly, of course, for it would 
 seem a dreadful thing to use a real monk's frock 
 in an opera. Then we fastened the rope round his 
 waist, and smoothed his curly hair a little to give 
 him a more pious aspect. He looked as white as 
 a pillow when the paint was gone. 
 
 " Tell me a little, my father," said old Mariuccia, 
 mocking him, " do you fast on Sundays, that you 
 look so pale ? " Whereat Nino struck an attitude, 
 and began singing a love song to the ancient wo 
 man. Indeed, she was joking about the fast, for 
 she had expended my substance, of late, in fatten 
 ing Nino, as she called it, for his appearance, and 
 there was to be broiled chickens for supper that
 
 100 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 very night. He was only pale because he was in 
 love. As for me, I made up my mind to stand in 
 the slides, so that I could see the contessina ; for 
 Nino had whispered to me that she had not yet 
 recognized him, though she stared hard across the 
 footlights. Therefore I took up a good position 
 on the left of the stage, facing the Lira box, which 
 was on the right. 
 
 The curtain went up, and Nino stood there, look 
 ing like a real monk, with a book in his hand and 
 his eyes cast down, as he began to walk slowly 
 along. I saw Hedwig von Lira's gaze rest on his 
 square, pale face at least one whole minute. Then 
 she gave a strange little cry, so that many people 
 in the house looked toward her ; and she leaned far 
 back in the shadow of the deep box, while the re 
 flected glare of the footlights just shone faintly on 
 her features, making them look more like marble 
 than ever. The baroness was smiling to herself, 
 amused at her companion's surprise, and the old 
 count stared stolidly for a moment or two, and then 
 turned suddenly to his daughter. 
 
 " Very curious is it," he was probably saying, 
 "that this tenor should so much your Italian pro 
 fessor resemble." I could almost see his gray eyes 
 sparkle angrily across the theatre. But as I looked, 
 a sound rose on the heated air, the like of which I 
 have never known. To tell the truth, I had not 
 heard the first two acts, for I did not suppose there 
 was any great difference between Nino's singing 
 on the stage and his singing at home, and I still
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 101 
 
 wished he might have chosen some other profession. 
 But when I heard this, I yielded, at least for the 
 time, ancl I am not sure that my eyes were as clear 
 as usual. 
 
 " Spirto gentil dei sogni miei " the long sweet 
 notes sighed themselves to death on his lips, falling 
 and rising magically like a mystic angel song, and 
 swaying their melody out into the world of lights 
 and listeners ; so pathetic, so heart-breaking, so la 
 den with death and with love, that it was as though 
 all the sorrowing souls in our poor Rome breathed 
 in one soft sigh together. Only a poor monk dying 
 of love in a monastery, tenderly and truly loving to 
 the bitter end. Dio mio ! there are perhaps many 
 such. But a monk like this, with a face like a 
 conqueror, set square in its whiteness, and yet so 
 wretched to see in his poor patched frock and his 
 bare feet ; a monk, too, not acting love, but really 
 and truly ready to die for a beautiful woman not 
 thirty feet from him, in the house ; above all, a 
 monk with a voice that speaks like the clarion call 
 of the day of judgment in its wrath, and murmurs 
 more plaintively and sadly in sorrow than ever the 
 poor Peri sighed at the gates of Paradise such a 
 monk, what could he not make people feel ? 
 
 The great crowd of men and women sat utterly 
 stilled and intent till he had sung the very last note. 
 Not a sound was heard to offend the sorrow that 
 spoke from the boy's lips. Then all those people 
 seemed to draw three long breaths of wonder a 
 pause, a thrilling tremor in the air, and then there
 
 102 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 burst to the roof such a roar of cries, such a huge 
 thunder of hands and voices, that the whole house 
 seemed to rock with it, and even in the street out 
 side they say the noise was deafening. 
 
 Alone on the stage stood Nino, his eyes fixed on 
 Hedwig von Lira in her box. I think that she 
 alone of all that multitude made no sound, but only 
 gripped the edge of the balcony hard in her white 
 hands, and leaned far forward with straining eyes 
 and beating heart to satisfy her wonder. She knew 
 well enough, now, that there was no mistake. The 
 humble little Professor Cardegna, who had pa 
 tiently explained Dante and Leopardi to her for 
 months, bowing to the ground in her presence, and 
 apologizing when he corrected her mistakes, as 
 though his whole life was to be devoted to teaching 
 foreigners his language ; the decently clad young 
 man, who was always pale, and sometimes pathetic 
 when he spoke of himself, was no other than Gio 
 vanni Cardegna the tenor, singing aloud to earth 
 and heaven with his glorious great voice a man 
 on the threshold of a European fame, such as falls 
 only to the lot of a singer or a conqueror. More, 
 he was the singer of her dreams, who had for 
 months filled her thoughts with music and her 
 heart with a strange longing, being until now a 
 voice only. There he stood looking straight at her, 
 she was not mistaken, as though to say, " I 
 have done it for you, and for you only." A woman 
 must be more than marble to feel no pride in the 
 intimate knowledge that a great public triumph has
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 103 
 
 been gained solely for her sake. She must be colder 
 than ice if she cannot see her power when a con 
 queror loves her. 
 
 The marble had felt the fire, and the ice was in 
 the flame at last. Nino, with his determination to 
 be loved, had put his statue into a very fiery furnace, 
 and in the young innocence of his heart had pre 
 pared such a surprise for his lady as might have 
 turned the head of a hardened woman of the world, 
 let alone an imaginative German girl, with a taste 
 for romance or without ; it matters little. All 
 Germans are full of imagination, and that is the 
 reason they know so much. For they not only know 
 all that is known by other people, but also all that 
 they themselves imagine, which nobody else can 
 possibly know. And if you do not believe this, you 
 had better read the works of one Fichte, a philos 
 opher. 
 
 I need not tell you any more about Nino's first 
 appearance. It was one of those really phenom 
 enal successes that seem to cling to certain people 
 through life. He was very happy and very silent 
 when it was over ; and we were the last to leave the 
 theatre, for we feared the enthusiasm of the crowd. 
 So we waited till every one had gone, and then 
 marched home together, for it was a fine night. I 
 walked on one side of Nino, and De Pretis on the 
 other, all of us carrying as many flowers as we 
 could ; Mariuccia came behind, with the cat under 
 her shawl. I did not discover until we reached 
 home why she had brought the beast. Then she
 
 104 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 explained that, as there was so much food in the 
 kitchen, in anticipation of our supper, she had 
 been afraid to leave the cat alone in the house, lest 
 we should find nothing left to eat when we returned. 
 This was sufficiently prudent, for a scatter-brained 
 old spendthrift like Mariuccia. 
 
 That was a merry supper, and De Pretis became 
 highly dramatic when we got to the second flask.
 
 VII. 
 
 ON the day following Nino's de"but, Maestro 
 Ercole de Pretis found himself in hot water, and 
 the choristers at St. Peter's noticed that his skull 
 cap was awry, and that he sang out of tune ; and 
 once he tried to take a pinch of snuff when there 
 was only three bars' rest in the music, so that 
 instead of singing C sharp he sneezed very loud. 
 Then all the other singers giggled, and said " Sa 
 lute ! " which we always say to a person who 
 sneezes quite audibly. 
 
 It was not that Ercole had heard anything from 
 the Graf von Lira as yet ; but he expected to hear, 
 and did not relish the prospect. Indeed, how could 
 the Prussian gentleman fail to resent what the 
 maestro had done, in introducing to him a singer 
 disguised as a teacher ? It chanced, also, that the 
 contessina took a singing lesson that very day in 
 the afternoon, and it was clear that the reaping of 
 his evil deeds was not far off. His conscience did 
 not trouble him at all, it is true, for I have told 
 you that he has liberal ideas about the right of 
 marriage ; but his vanity was sorely afflicted at the 
 idea of abandoning such a very noble and cred 
 itable pupil as the Contessina di Lira. He .ap 
 plauded himself for furthering Nino's wild schemes,
 
 106 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 and he blamed himself for being so reckless about 
 his own interests. Every moment he expected a 
 formal notice from- the count to discontinue the 
 lessons. But still it did not come, and at the 
 appointed hour Ercole's wife helped him to put 
 on his thick winter coat, and wrapped his com 
 forter about his neck, and pulled his big hat over 
 his eyes, for the weather was threatening, 
 and sent him trudging off to the Palazzo Carman- 
 dola. 
 
 Though Ercole is stout of heart, and has broad 
 shoulders to bear such burdens as fall to his lot, 
 he lingered long on the way, for his presentiments 
 were gloomy ; and at the great door of the palazzo 
 he even stopped to inquire of the porter whether 
 the contessina had been seen to go out yet, half 
 hoping that she would thus save him the mortifi 
 cation of an interview. But it turned out other 
 wise : the contessina was at home, and De Pretis 
 was expected, as usual, to give the lesson. Slowly 
 he climbed the great staircase, and was admitted. 
 
 " Good-day, Sor Maestro," said the liveried foot 
 man, who knew him well. " The Signor Conte 
 desires to speak with you to-day, before you go 
 to the signorina." 
 
 The maestro's heart sank, and he gripped hard 
 the roll of music in his hand as he followed the 
 servant to the count's cabinet. There was to be a 
 scene of explanation, after all. 
 
 The count was seated in his great arm-chair, in a 
 cloud of tobacco smoke, reading a Prussian military
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 107 
 
 journal. His stick leaned against the table by his 
 side, in painfid contrast with the glittering cavalry 
 sabres crossed upon the dark red wall opposite. 
 The tall windows looked out on the piazza, and it 
 was raining, or just beginning to rain. The great 
 inkstand on the table was made to represent a how 
 itzer, and the count looked as though he were ready 
 to fire it point-blank at any intruder. There was 
 an air of disciplined luxury in the room, that spoke 
 of a rich old soldier who fed his fancy with titbits 
 from a stirring past. De Pretis felt very uncom 
 fortable, but the nobleman rose to greet him, as he 
 rose to greet everything above the rank of a ser 
 vant, making himself steady with his stick. When 
 De Pretis was seated, he sat down also. The rain 
 pattered against the window. 
 
 " Signor De Pretis," began the count, in tones 
 as hard as chilled steel, " you are an honorable 
 man." There was something interrogative in his 
 voice. 
 
 " I hope so," answered the maestro modestly ; 
 " like other Christians, I have a soul " 
 
 " You will your soul take care of in your leisure 
 moments," interrupted the count. " At present 
 you have no leisure." 
 
 " As you command, Signor Conte." 
 
 " I was yesterday evening at the theatre. The 
 professor you recommended for my daughter is 
 with the new tenor one person." De Pretis spread 
 out his hands and bowed, as if to deprecate any 
 share in the transaction. The count continued,
 
 108 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 " You are of the profession, Signor De Pretis. 
 Evidently, you of this were aware." 
 
 " It is true," assented Ercole, not knowing what 
 to say. 
 
 "Of course it is true. I am therefore to hear 
 your explanation disposed." His gray eyes fas 
 tened sternly on the maestro. But the latter was 
 prepared, for he had long foreseen that the count 
 would one day be disposed to hear an explanation, 
 as he expressed it. 
 
 " It is quite true," repeated De Pretis. " The 
 young man was very poor, and desired to support 
 himself while he was studying music. lie was 
 well fitted to teach our literature, and I recom 
 mended him. I hope that, in consideration of his 
 poverty, and because he turned out a very good 
 teacher, you will forgive me, Signor Conte." 
 
 "This talented singer I greatly applaud," an 
 swered the count stiffly. " As a with-the-capacity- 
 and-learning-requisite-for-teaching-endowed young 
 man deserves he also some commendation. Also 
 will I remember his laudable-and-not-lacking-inde- 
 pendence character. Nevertheless, unfitting would 
 it be, should I pay the first tenor of the opera five 
 francs an hour to teach my daughter Italian litera 
 ture." De Pretis breathed more freely. 
 
 "Then you will forgive me, Signor Conte, for 
 endeavoring to promote the efforts of this worthy 
 young man in supporting himself ? " 
 
 " Signor De Pretis," said the count, with a cer 
 tain quaint geniality, " I have my precautions ob-
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 109 
 
 served. I examined Signer Cardegna in Italian 
 literature in my own person, and him proficient 
 found. Had I found him to be ignorant, and had 
 I his talents as an operatic singer later discovered, 
 I would you out of that window have projected." 
 De Pretis was alarmed, for the old count looked as 
 though he would have carried out the threat. " As 
 it is," he concluded, " you are an honorable man, 
 and I wish you good - morning. Lady Hedwig 
 awaits you, as usual." He rose courteously, lean 
 ing on his stick, and De Pretis 'bowed himself out. 
 
 He expected that the contessina would immedi 
 ately begin talking of Nino, but he was mistaken ; 
 she never once referred to the opera or the singer, 
 and except that she looked pale and transparent, 
 and sang with a trifle less interest in her music 
 than usual, there was nothing noticeable in her 
 manner. Indeed, she had every reason to be 
 silent. 
 
 Early that morning Nino received by a messenger 
 a pretty little note, written in execrable Italian, 
 begging him to come and breakfast with the baron 
 ess at twelve, as she much desired to speak with 
 him after his stupendous triumph of the previous 
 night. 
 
 Nino is a very good boy, but he is mortal, and 
 after the excitement of the evening he thought 
 nothing could be pleasanter than to spend a few 
 hours in that scented boudoir, among the palms 
 and the beautiful objects and the perfumes, talking 
 with a woman who professed herself ready to help
 
 110 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 him in his love affair. We have no perfumes, or 
 cushions, or pretty things at number twenty-seven, 
 Santa Catarina dei Funari, though everything is 
 very bright and neat and most proper, and the cat 
 is kept in the kitchen, for the most part. So it is 
 no wonder that he should have preferred to spend 
 the morning with the baroness. 
 
 She was half lying, half sitting, in a deep arm 
 chair, when Nino entered ; and she was reading a 
 book. When she saw him she dropped the volume 
 on her knee, and looked up at him from under her 
 lids, without speaking. She must have been a be 
 witching figure. Nino advanced toward her, bow 
 ing low, so that his dark curling hair shaded his 
 face. 
 
 " Good-day, signora," said he softly, as though 
 fearing to hurt the quiet air. " I trust I do not 
 interrupt you ? " 
 
 " You never interrupt me, Nino," she said, " ex 
 cept except when you go away." 
 
 " You are very good, signora." 
 
 "For heaven's sake, no pretty speeches," said 
 she, with a little laugh. 
 
 "It seems to me," said Nino, seating himself, 
 " that it was you who made the pretty speech, and 
 I who thanked you for it." There was a pause. 
 
 " How do you feel? " asked the baroness at last, 
 turning her head to him. 
 
 " Grazie I am well," he answered, smiling. 
 
 " Oh, I do not mean that, you are always 
 well. But how do you enjoy your first triumph ? "
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. Ill 
 
 "I think," said Nino, "that a real artist ought 
 to have the capacity to enjoy a success at the mo 
 ment, and the good sense to blame his vanity for 
 enjoying it after it is passed." 
 
 " How old are you, Nino ? " 
 
 " Did I never tell you ? " he asked, innocently. 
 " I shall be twenty-one soon." 
 
 " You talk as though you were forty, at least." 
 
 " Heaven save us ! " quoth Nino. 
 
 " But really, are you not immensely flattered at 
 the reception you had ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " You did not look at all interested in the public 
 at the time," said she, " and that Roman nose of 
 yours very nearly turned up in disdain of the ap 
 plause, I thought. I wonder what you were think 
 ing of all the while." 
 
 " Can you wonder, baronessa ? " She knew what 
 he meant, and there was a little look of annoyance 
 in her face when she answered. 
 
 " Ah, well, of course not, since she was there." 
 Her ladyship rose, and taking a stick of Eastern 
 pastil from a majolica dish in a corner made Nino 
 light it from a wax taper. 
 
 " I want the smell of the sandal-wood this morn 
 ing," said she ; " I have a headache." She was 
 enchanting to look at, as she bent her softly-shaded 
 face over the flame to watch the burning perfume. 
 She looked like a beautiful lithe sorceress making 
 a love spell, perhaps for her own use. Nino 
 turned from her. He did not like to allow the one
 
 112 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 image he loved to be even for a moment disturbed 
 by the one he loved not, however beautiful. She 
 moved away, leaving the pastil on the dish. Sud 
 denly she paused, and turned back to look at him. 
 
 "Why did you come to-day? " she asked. 
 
 " Because you desired it," answered Nino, in 
 some astonishment. 
 
 "You need not have come," she said, bending 
 down to lean on the back of a silken chair. She 
 folded her hands, and looked at him as he stood 
 not three paces away. " Do you not know what 
 has happened? " she asked, with a smile that was 
 a little sad. 
 
 "I do not understand," said Nino, simply. He 
 was facing the entrance to the room, and saw the 
 curtains parted by the servant. The baroness had 
 her back to the door, and did not hear. 
 
 "Do you not know," she continued, "that you 
 are free now ? Your appearance in public has put 
 an end to it all. You are not tied to me any longer, 
 unless you wish it." 
 
 As she spoke these words Nino turned white, for 
 under the heavy curtain, lifted to admit her, stood 
 Hedwig von Lira, like a statue, transfixed and im 
 movable from what she had heard. The baroness 
 noticed Nino's look, and, springing back to her 
 height from the chair on which she had been lean 
 ing, faced the door. 
 
 " My dearest Hedwig ! " she cried, with a mag 
 nificent readiness. " I am so very glad you have 
 come. I did not expect you in the least. Do take
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 113 
 
 off your hat, and stay to breakfast. Ah, forgive 
 me : this is Professor Cardegna. But you know 
 him ? Yes ; now that I think, we all went to the 
 Pantheon together." Nino bowed low, and Hedwig 
 bent her head. 
 
 "Yes," said the young girl, coldly. "Professor 
 Cardegna gives me lessons." 
 
 " Why, of course ; how bete I am ! I was just 
 telling him that, since he has been successful, and 
 is enrolled among the great artists, it is a pity he is 
 no longer tied to giving Italian lessons, tied to 
 coming here three times a week, to teach me litera 
 ture." Hedwig smiled a strange, icy smile, and 
 sat down by the window. Nino was still utterly 
 astonished, but he would not allow the baroness's 
 quibble to go entirely uncontradicted. 
 
 "In truth," he said, "the Signora Baronessa's 
 lessons consisted chiefly" 
 
 " In teaching me pronunciation," interrupted the 
 baroness, trying to remove Hedwig's veil and hat, 
 somewhat against the girl's inclination. " Yes, you 
 see hew it is. I know a little of singing, but I 
 cannot pronounce, not in the least. Ah, these 
 Italian vowels will be the death of me ! But if 
 there is any one who can teach a poor dilettante to 
 pronounce them," she added, laying the hat away 
 on a chair, and pushing a footstool to Hedwig's 
 feet, "that some one is Signor Cardegna." 
 
 By this time Nino had recognized the propriety 
 of temporizing ; that is to say, of letting the bar 
 oness's fib pass for what it was worth, lest the dis-
 
 114 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 cussion of the subject should further offend Hed- 
 wig, whose eyes wandered irresolutely toward him, 
 as though she would say something if he addressed 
 her. 
 
 " I hope, signorina," he said, " that it is not 
 quite as the baroness says. I trust our lessons 
 are not at an end ? " He knew very well that they 
 were. 
 
 " I think, Signer Cardegna," said Hedwig, with 
 more courage than would have been expected from 
 such a mere child, she is twenty, but Northern 
 people are not grown up till they are thirty, at 
 least, "I think it would have been more obliging 
 if, when I asked you so much about your cousin, 
 you had acknowledged that you had no cousin, and 
 that the singer was none other than yourself." She 
 blushed, perhaps, but the curtain of the window 
 hid it. 
 
 " Alas, signorina," answered Nino, still standing 
 before her, " such a confession would have deprived 
 me of the pleasure of the honor of giving you 
 lessons." 
 
 "And pray, Signor Cardegna," put in the bar 
 oness, " what are a few paltry lessons, compared 
 with the pleasure you ought to have experienced 
 in satisfying the Contessina di Lira's curiosity? 
 Really, you have little courtesy." 
 
 Nino shrank into himself, as though he were 
 hurt, and he gave the baroness a look which said 
 worlds. She smiled at him, in joy of her small tri 
 umph, for Hedwig was looking at the floor again,
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 115 
 
 and could not see. But the young girl had strength 
 in her, for all her cold looks and white cheek. 
 
 "You can atone, Signor Cardegna," she said. 
 Nino's face brightened. 
 
 " How, signoriua ? " he asked. 
 
 " By singing to us now," said Hedwig. The 
 baroness looked grave, for she well knew what a 
 power Nino wielded with his music. 
 
 " Do not ask him," she protested. " He must be 
 tired, tired to death, with all he went through 
 last night." 
 
 " Tired ? " ejaculated Nino, with some surprise. 
 " I tired? I was never tired in my life, of singing. 
 I will sing as long as you will listen." He went to 
 the piano. As he turned, the baroness laid her 
 hand on Hedwig's, affectionately, as though sympa 
 thizing with something she supposed to be passing 
 in the girl's mind. But Hedwig was passive, un 
 less a little shudder at the first touch of the baron 
 ess's fingers might pass for a manifestation of feel 
 ing. Hedwig had hitherto liked the baroness, 
 finding in her a woman of a certain artistic sense, 
 combined with a certain originality. The girl was 
 an absolute contrast to the woman, and admired in 
 her the qualities she thought lacking in herself, 
 though she possessed too much self-respect to attempt 
 to acquire them by imitation. Hedwig sat like a 
 Scandinavian fairy princess on the summit of a glass 
 hill; her friend roamed through life like a beau 
 tiful soft-footed wild animal, rejoicing in the sense 
 of being, and sometimes indulging in a little play-
 
 116 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 ful destruction by the way. The girl had heard a 
 voice in the dark, singing, and ever since then she 
 had dreamed of the singer ; but it never entered 
 her mind to confide to the baroness her strange 
 fancies. An undisciplined imagination, securely 
 shielded from all outward disturbing causes, will 
 do much with a voice in the dark, a great deal 
 more than such a woman as the baroness might im 
 agine. 
 
 I do not know enough about these blue-eyed 
 German girls to say whether or not Hedwig had 
 ever before thought of her unknown singer as an 
 unknown lover. But the emotions of the previous 
 night had shaken her nerves a little, and had she 
 been older than she was she would have known 
 that she loved her singer, in a distant and maidenly 
 fashion, as soon as she heard the baroness speak of 
 him as having been her property. And now she 
 was angry with herself, and ashamed of feeling any 
 interest in a man who was evidently tied to another 
 woman by some intrigue she could not comprehend. 
 Her coming to visit the baroness had been as unpre 
 meditated as it was unexpected, that morning, and 
 she bitterly repented it ; but being of good blood 
 and heart, she acted as boldly as she could, and 
 showed no little tact in making Nino sing, and thus 
 cutting short a painful conversation. Only when 
 the baroness tried to caress her and stroke her hand 
 she shrank away, and the blood mantled up to her 
 cheeks. Add to all this the womanly indignation 
 she felt at having been so long deceived by Nino,
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 117 
 
 and you will see that she was in a very vacillating 
 frame of mind. 
 
 The baroness was a subtle woman, reckless and 
 diplomatic by turns, and she was not blind to the 
 sudden repulse she met with from Hedwig, un 
 spoken though it was. But she merely withdrew 
 her hand, and sat thinking over the situation. 
 What she thought, no one knows ; or, at least, we 
 can only guess it from what she did afterwards. 
 As for me, I have never blamed her at all, for she 
 is the kind of woman I should have loved. In the 
 mean time Nino caroled out one love song after an 
 other. He saw, however, that the situation was 
 untenable, and after a while he rose to go. Strange 
 to say, although the baroness had asked Nino to 
 breakfast, and the hour was now at hand, she made 
 no effort to retain him. But she gave him her 
 hand, and said many flattering and pleasing things, 
 which, however, neither flattered nor pleased him. 
 As for Hedwig, she bent her head a little, but said 
 nothing, as he bowed before her. Nino therefore 
 went home with a heavy heart, longing to explain 
 to Hedwig why he had been tied to the baroness, 
 that it was the price of her silence and of the privi 
 lege he had enjoyed of giving lessons to the contes- 
 sina ; but knowing, also, that all explanation was 
 out of the question for the present. When he was 
 gone, Hedwig and the baroness were left together. 
 
 " It must have been a great surprise to you, my 
 dear," said the elder lady kindly. 
 
 "What?"
 
 118 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 " That your little professor should turn out a 
 great artist in disguise. It was a surprise to me, 
 too, ah, another illusion destroyed. Dear child ! 
 You have still so many illusions, beautiful, pure 
 illusions. Dieu ! how I envy you ! " They gener 
 ally talked French together, though the baroness 
 knows German. Hedwig laughed bravely. 
 
 " I was certainly astonished," she said. " Poor 
 man ! I suppose he did it to support himself. He 
 never told me he gave you lessons, too." The bar 
 oness smiled, but it was from genuine satisfaction 
 this time. 
 
 " I wonder at that, since he knew we were inti 
 mate, or, at least, that we were acquainted. Of 
 course I would not speak of it last night, because I 
 saw your father was angry." 
 
 " Yes, he was angry. I suppose it was natural," 
 said Hedwig. 
 
 " Perfectly natural. And you, my dear, were 
 you not angry too, just a little ? " 
 
 " I ? No. Why should I be angry ? He was 
 a very good teacher, for he knows whole volumes 
 by heart ; and he understands them, too." 
 
 Soon they talked of other things, and the bar 
 oness was very affectionate. But though Hedwig 
 saw that her friend was kind and most friendly, 
 she could not forget the words that were in the air 
 when she chanced to enter, nor could she quite ac 
 cept the plausible explanation of them which the 
 baroness had so readily invented. For jealousy is 
 the forerunner of love, and sometimes its awakener.
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 119 
 
 She felt a rival and an enemy, and all the hered 
 itary combativeness of her Northern blood was 
 roused. 
 
 Nino, who was in no small perplexity, reflected. 
 He was not old enough or observant enough to have 
 seen the breach that was about to be created be 
 tween the baroness and Hedwig. His only thought 
 was to clear himself in Hedwig's eyes from the im 
 putation of having been tied to the dark woman in 
 any way save for his love's sake. He at once be 
 gan to hate the baroness with all the ferocity of 
 which his heart was capable, and with all the calm 
 his bold, square face outwardly expressed. But he 
 was forced to take some action at once, and he 
 could think of nothing better to do than to consult 
 De Pretis. 
 
 To the maestro he poured out his woes and his 
 plans. He exhibited to him his position toward the 
 baroness and toward Hedwig in the clearest light. 
 He conjured him to go to Hedwig, and explain that 
 the baroness had threatened to unmask him, and 
 thus deprive him of his means of support, he 
 dared not put it otherwise, unless he consented 
 to sing for her and come to her as often as she 
 pleased. To explain, to propitiate, to smooth, 
 in a word, to reinstate Nino in her good opinion. 
 
 " Death of a dog ! " exclaimed De Pretis ; "you 
 do not ask much ! After you have allowed your 
 lady-love, your innamorata, to catch you saying 
 you are bound body and soul to another woman, 
 and such a woman ! ye saints, what a beauty !
 
 120 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 you ask me to go and set matters right ! What 
 the diavolo did you want to go and poke your nose 
 into such a mousetrap for ? Via ! I am a fool to 
 have helped you at all." 
 
 " Very likely," said Nino calmly. " But mean 
 while there are two of us, and perhaps I am the 
 greater. You will do what I ask, maestro ; is it 
 not true ? And it was not I who said it ; it was 
 the baroness." 
 
 " The baroness yes and may the maledic 
 tions of the inferno overtake her," said De Pretis, 
 casting up his eyes and feeling in his coat-tail 
 pockets for his snuff-box. Once, when Nino was 
 younger, he filled Ercole's snuff-box with soot and 
 pepper, so that the maestro had a black nose and 
 sneezed all day. 
 
 What could Ercole do ? It was true that he had 
 hitherto helped Nino. Was he not bound to con 
 tinue that assistance ? I suppose so ; but if the 
 whole affair had ended then, and this story with it, 
 I would not have cared a button. Do you suppose 
 it amuses me to tell you this tale ? Or that if it 
 were not for Nino's good name I would ever have 
 turned myself into a common story-teller ? Bah ! 
 you do not know me. A page of quaternions gives 
 me more pleasure than all this rubbish put to 
 gether, though I am not averse to a little gossip 
 now and then, of an evening, if people will listea 
 to my details and fancies. But those are just the 
 things people will not listen to. Everybody wants 
 sensation nowadays. What is a sensation compared
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 121 
 
 with a thought ? What is the convulsive gesticula 
 tion of a dead frog's leg compared with the intel 
 lect of the man who invented the galvanic battery, 
 and thus gave fictitious sensation to all the count 
 less generations of dead frogs' legs that have since 
 been the objects of experiment ? Or if you come 
 down to so poor a thing as mere feeling, what are 
 your feelings in reading about Nino's deeds com 
 pared with what he felt in doing them ? I am not 
 taking all this trouble to please you, but only for 
 Nino's sake, who is my dear boy. You are of no 
 more interest or importance to me than if you were 
 so many dead frogs ; and if I galvanize your sen 
 sations, as you call them, into an activity sufficient 
 to make you cry or laugh, that is my own affair. 
 You need not say " thank you " to me. I do not 
 want it. Ercole will thank you, and perhaps Nino 
 will thank me, but that is different. 
 
 I will not tell you about the interview that Ercole 
 had with Hedwig, nor how skillfully he rolled up 
 his eyes and looked pathetic when he spoke of 
 Nino's poverty, and of the fine part he had played 
 in the whole business. Hedwig is a woman, and the 
 principal satisfaction she gathered from Ercole's 
 explanation was the knowledge that her friend the 
 baroness had lied to her in explaining those strange 
 words she had overheard. She knew it, of course, 
 by instinct ; but it was a great relief to be told the 
 fact by some one else, as it always is, even when 
 one is not a woman.
 
 VIII. 
 
 SEVERAL days passed after the debut without 
 giving Nino an opportunity of speaking to Hedwig. 
 He probably saw her, for he mingled in the crowd 
 of dandies in the Piazza Colonna of an afternoon, 
 hoping she would pass in her carriage and give him 
 a look. Perhaps she did ; he said nothing about 
 it, but looked calm when he was silent and savage 
 when he spoke, after the manner of passionate peo 
 ple. His face aged and grew stern in those few 
 days, so that he seemed to change on a sudden 
 from boy to man. But he went about his business, 
 and sang at the theatre when he was obliged to; 
 gathering courage to do his best and to display his 
 powers from the constant success he had. The pa 
 pers were full of his praises, saying that he was 
 absolutely without rival from the very first night 
 he sang, matchless and supreme from the moment 
 he first opened his mouth, and all that kind of non 
 sense. I dare say he is now, but he could not have 
 been really the greatest singer living, so soon. How 
 ever, he used to bring me the newspapers that had 
 notices of him, though he never appeared to care 
 much for them, nor did he ever keep them himself. 
 He said he hankered for an ideal which he would 
 never attain ; and I told him that if he was never
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 123 
 
 to attain it he had better abandon the pursuit of it 
 at once. But he represented to me that the ideal 
 was confined to his imagination, whereas the realt 
 ity had a great financial importance, since he daily 
 received offers from foreign managers to sing for 
 them, at large advantage to himself, and was hesi 
 tating only in order to choose the most convenient. 
 This seemed sensible, and I was silent. Soon af 
 terwards he presented me with a box of cigars and 
 a very pretty amber mouthpiece. The cigars were 
 real Havanas, such as I had not smoked for years, 
 and must have cost a great deal. 
 
 " You may not be aware, Sor Cornelio," he said 
 one evening, as he mixed the oil and vinegar with 
 the salad, at supper, " that I am now a rich man, 
 or soon shall be. An agent from the London opera 
 has offered me twenty thousand francs for the sea 
 son in London, this spring." 
 
 " Twenty thousand francs ! " I cried in amaze 
 ment. " You must be dreaming, Nino. That is 
 just about seven times what I earn in a year with 
 my professorship and my writing." 
 
 " No dreams, caro mio. I have the offer in my 
 pocket." He apparently cared no more about it 
 than if he had twenty thousand roasted chestnuts 
 in his pocket. 
 
 " When do you leave us ? " I asked, when I was 
 somewhat recovered. 
 
 "I am not sure that I will go," he answered, 
 sprinkling some pepper on his lettuce. 
 
 " Not sure ! Body of Diana, what a fool you 
 are ! "
 
 124 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 " Perhaps," said he, and he passed me the dish. 
 Just then, Mariuccia came in with a bottle of wine, 
 and we said no more about it ; for Mariuccia is 
 indiscreet. 
 
 Nino thought nothing about his riches, because 
 he was racking his brains for some good expedient 
 whereby he might see the contessina and speak with 
 her. He had ascertained from De Pretis that the 
 count was not so angry as he had expected, and 
 that Hedwig was quite satisfied with the explana 
 tions of the maestro. The day after the foregoing 
 conversation he wrote a note to her, wherein he said 
 that if the Contessina di Lira would deign to be 
 awake at midnight that evening she would have a 
 serenade from a voice she was said to admire. He 
 bid Mariuccia carry the letter to the Palazzo Car- 
 mandola. 
 
 At half past eleven, at least two hours after sup 
 per, Nino wrapped himself in my old cloak, and 
 took the guitar under his arm. Rome is not a very 
 safe place for midnight pranks, and so I made him 
 take a good knife in his waist-belt ; for he had con 
 fided to me where he was going. I tried to dissuade 
 him from the plan, saying he might catch cold ; but 
 he laughed at me. 
 
 A serenade is an every-day affair, and in the 
 street one voice sounds about as well as another. 
 He reached the palace, and his heart sank when he 
 saw Hedwig's window dark and gloomy. He did 
 not know that she was seated behind it in a deep 
 chair, wrapped in white things, and listening for
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 125 
 
 him against the beatings of her heart. The large 
 moon seemed to be spiked on the sharp spire of the 
 church that is near her house, and the black shad 
 ows cut the white light as clean as with a knife. 
 Nino had tuned his guitar in the other street, and 
 stood ready, waiting for the clocks to strike. Pres 
 ently they clanged out wildly, as though they had 
 been waked from their midnight sleep, and were 
 angry ; one clock answering the other, and one con 
 vent bell following another in the call to prayers. 
 For two full minutes the whole air was crazy with 
 ringing, and then it was all still. Nino struck a 
 single chord. Hedwig almost thought he might 
 hear her heart beating all the way down in the 
 street. 
 
 " Ah, del mio dolce ardor bramato ogetto," he 
 sang, an old air in one of Gluck's operas, that 
 our Italian musicians say was composed by Ales- 
 sandro Stradella, the poor murdered singer. It 
 must be a very good air, for it pleases me ; and I 
 am not easily pleased with music of any kind. As 
 for Hedwig, she pressed her ear to the glass of the 
 window that she might not lose any note. But she 
 would not open nor give any sign. Nino was not 
 so easily discouraged, for he remembered that once 
 before she had opened her window for a few bars 
 he had begun to sing. He played a few chords, 
 and breathed out the " Salve, dimora casta e pura," 
 from Faust, high and soft and clear. There is a 
 point in that song, near to the end, where the words 
 say, " Reveal to me the maiden," and where the
 
 126 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 music goes away to the highest note that any one 
 can possibly sing. It alwaj^s appears quite easy 
 for Nino, and he does not squeak like a dying pig, 
 as all the other tenors do on that note. He was 
 looking up as he sang it, wondering whether it 
 would have any effect. Apparently Hedwig lost 
 her head completely, for she gently opened the case 
 ment and looked out at the moonlight opposite, 
 over the carved stone mullions of her window. The 
 song ended, he hesitated whether to go or to sing 
 again. She was evidently looking towards him ; 
 but he was in the light, for the moon has risen 
 higher, and she, on the other side of the street, 
 was in the dark. 
 
 " Signorina ! " he called softly. No answer. 
 " Signorina ! " he said again, coming across the 
 empty street and standing under the window, which 
 might have been thirty feet from the ground. 
 
 " Hush ! " came a whisper from above. 
 
 " I thank you with all my soul for listening to 
 me," he said in a low voice. "I am innocent of 
 that of which you suspect me. I love you, ah, I 
 love you ! " But at this she left the window very 
 quickly. She did not close it, however, and Nino 
 stood long, straining his eyes for a glimpse of the 
 white face that had been there. He sighed, and 
 striking a chord sang out boldly the old air from 
 the Trovatore, "Ah, che la morte ognora e tarda 
 nel venir." Every blind fiddler in the streets plays 
 it, though he would be sufficiently scared if death 
 came any the quicker for his fiddling. But old and
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 127 
 
 worn as it is, it has a strain of passion in it, and 
 Nino threw more fire and voice into the ring of it 
 than ever did famous old Boccarde, when he sang 
 it at the first performance of the opera, thirty, and 
 odd years ago. As he played the chords after the 
 first strophe, the voice from above whispered again : 
 
 " Hush, for Heaven's sake ! " Just that, and 
 something fell at his feet, with a soft little padded 
 sound on the pavement. He stooped to pick it up, 
 and found a single rose ; and at that instant the 
 window closed sharply. Therefore he kissed the 
 rose and hid it, and presently he strode down the 
 street, finishing his song as lie went, but only hum 
 ming it, for the joy had taken his voice away. I 
 heard him let himself in and go to bed, and he 
 told me about it in the morning. That is how I 
 know. 
 
 Since the day after the de*but Nino had not seen 
 the baroness. He did not speak of her, and I am 
 sure he wished she were at the very bottom of the 
 Tiber. But on the morning after the serenade he 
 received a note from her, which was so full of pro 
 testations of friendship and so delicately couched 
 that he looked grave, and reflected that it was his 
 duty to be courteous, and to answer such a call as 
 that. She begged him earnestly to come at one 
 o'clock ; she was suffering from headache, she said, 
 and was very weak. Had Nino loved Hedwig a 
 whit the less, he would not have gone. But he felt 
 himself strong enough to face anything and every 
 thing, and" therefore he determined to go.
 
 128 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 . He found her, indeed, with the manner of a per 
 son who is ill, but not with the appearance. She 
 was lying on a huge couch, pushed to the fireside, 
 and there were furs about her. A striped scarf of 
 rich Eastern silk was round her throat, and she 
 held in her hand a new novel, of which she care 
 lessly cut the pages with a broad-hafted Persian 
 knife. But there was color in her dark cheek, and 
 a sort of angry fire in her eyes. Nino thought the 
 clean steel in her hand looked as though it might 
 be used for something besides cutting leaves, if the 
 fancy took her. 
 
 " So at last you have honored me with a visit, 
 signore," she said, not desisting from her occupa 
 tion. Nino came to her, and she put out her hand. 
 He touched it, but could not bear to hold it, for it 
 burned him. 
 
 " You used to honor my hand differently from 
 that," she half whispered. Nino sat himself down 
 a little way from her, blushing slightly. It was 
 not at what she had said, but at the thought that 
 he should ever have kissed her fingers. 
 
 " Signora," he replied, " there are customs, chiv 
 alrous and gentle in themselves, and worthy for 
 all men to practice. But from the moment a 
 custom begins to mean what it should not, it ought 
 to be abandoned. You will forgive me if I no 
 longer kiss your hand." 
 
 " How cold you are ! how formal ! What 
 should it mean ? " 
 
 " It is better to say too little than too much," he 
 answered.
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 129 
 
 " Bali ! " slie cried, with a bitter little laugh. 
 " Words are silver, but silence is very often 
 nothing but silver-plated brass. Put a little more 
 wood 011 the fire ; you make me cold." Nino 
 obeyed. 
 
 " How literal you are ! " said the baroness petu 
 lantly. " There is fire enough, on the hearth." 
 
 " Apparently, signora, you are pleased to be 
 enigmatical," said Nino. 
 
 " I will be pleased to be anything I please," she 
 answered, and looked at him rather fiercely. " I 
 wanted you to drive away my headache, and you 
 only make it worse." 
 
 " I am sorry, signora. I will leave you at once. 
 Permit me to wish you a very good-morning." He 
 took his hat and went towards the door. Before 
 he reached the heavy curtain, she was at his side 
 with a rush like a falcon on the wing, her eyes 
 burning darkly between anger and love. 
 
 " Nino ! " She laid hold of his arm, and looked 
 into his face. 
 
 " Signora," he protested coldly, and drew back. 
 
 " You will not leave me so ? " 
 
 " As you wish, signora. I desire to oblige you." 
 
 " Oh, how cold you are ! " she cried, leaving his 
 arm, and sinking into a chair by the door, while he 
 stood with his hand on the curtain. She hid her 
 eyes. " Nino, Nino ! You will break my heart ! " 
 she sobbed; and a tear, perhaps more of anger than 
 of sorrow, burst through her fingers, and coursed 
 down her cheek.
 
 130 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 Few men can bear to see a woman slied tears. 
 Nino's nature rose up in his throat, and bade him 
 console her. But between him and her was a fair, 
 bright image that forbade him to move hand or 
 foot. 
 
 " Signora," he said, with all the calm he could 
 command, "if I were conscious of having by word 
 or deed of mine given you cause to speak thus, I 
 would humbly implore your forgiveness. But my 
 heart does not accuse me. I beg you to allow me 
 to take leave of you. I will go away, and you shall 
 have no further cause to think of me." He moved 
 again, and lifted the curtain. But she was like a 
 panther, so quick and beautiful. Ah, how I could 
 have loved that woman ! She held him, and would 
 not let him go, her smooth fingers fastening round 
 his wrists like springs. 
 
 " Please to let me go," he said between his teeth, 
 with rising anger. 
 
 " No ! I will not let you ! " she cried fiercely, 
 tightening her grasp on him. Then the angry fire 
 in her tearful eyes seemed suddenly to melt into a 
 soft flame, and the color came faster to her cheeks. 
 " Ah, how can you let me so disgrace myself ! how 
 can you see me fallen so low as to use the strength 
 of my hands, and yet have no pity ! Nino, Nino, 
 do not kill me ! " 
 
 " Indeed, it would be the better for you if I 
 should," he answered bitterly, but without attempt 
 ing to free his wrists from her strong, soft grip. 
 
 " But you will," she murmured passionately.
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 131 
 
 " You are killing me by leaving me. Can you not 
 see it ? " Her voice melted away in the tearful ca 
 dence. But Nino stood gazing at her as stonily as 
 though he were the Sphinx. How could he have 
 the heart ? I cannot tell. Long she looked into 
 his eyes, silently ; but she might as well have tried 
 to animate a piece of iron, so stern and hard he was. 
 Suddenly, with a strong, convulsive movement, she 
 flung his hands from her. 
 
 " Go ! " she cried hoarsely. " Go to that wax 
 doll you love, and see whether she will love you, or 
 care whether you leave her or not ! Go, go, go ! 
 Go to her ! " She had sprung far back from him, 
 and now pointed to the door, drawn to her full 
 height and blazing in her wrath. 
 
 "I would advise you, madam, to speak with 
 proper respect of any lady with whom you choose 
 to couple my name." His lips opened and shut 
 mechanically, and he trembled from head to foot. 
 
 " Respect ! " She laughed wildly. " Respect for a 
 mere child whom you happen to fancy ! Respect, 
 indeed, for anything you choose to do ! I I 
 respect Hedwig von Lira ? Ha ! ha ! " and she 
 rested her hand on the table behind her, as she 
 laughed. 
 
 " Be silent, madam," said Nino, and he moved a 
 step nearer, and stood with folded arms. 
 
 " Ah ! You would silence me now, would you ? 
 You would rather not hear me speak of your mid 
 night serenades, and your sweet letters dropped 
 from the window of her room, at your feet ? " But
 
 132 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 her rage overturned itself, and with a strange cry 
 she fell into a deep chair, and wept bitterly, bury 
 ing her face in her two hands. " Miserable woman 
 that I am ! " she sobbed, and her whole lithe body 
 was convulsed. 
 
 "You are indeed," said Nino, and he turned 
 once more to go. But as he turned, the servant 
 threw back the curtain. 
 
 " The Signor Conte di Lira," he announced in 
 distinct tones. For a moment there was a dead 
 silence, during which, in spite of his astonishment 
 at the sudden appearance of the count, Nino had 
 time to reflect that the baroness had caused him to 
 be watched during the previous night. It might 
 well be, and the mistake she made in supposing the 
 thing Hedwig had dropped to be a letter told him 
 that her spy had not ventured very near. 
 
 The tall count came forward under the raised 
 curtains, limping and helping himself with his stick. 
 His face was as gray and wooden as ever, but his 
 mustaches had an irritated, crimped look, that Nino 
 did not like. The count barely nodded to the 
 young man, as he stood aside to let the old gentle 
 man pass ; his eyes turned mechanically to where 
 the baroness sat. She was a woman who had no 
 need to simulate passion in any shape, and it must 
 have cost her a terrible effort to control the parox 
 ysm of anger and shame and grief that had over 
 come her. There was something unnatural and 
 terrifying in her sudden calm, as she forced herself 
 to rise and greet her visitor.
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 133 
 
 " I fear I come out of season," lie said, apologet 
 ically, as he bent over her hand. 
 
 " On the contrary," she answered ; " but forgive 
 me if I speak one word to Professor Cardegna." 
 .She went to where Nino was standing. 
 j " Go into that room," she said, in a very low 
 voice, glancing towards a curtained door opposite 
 the windows, " and wait till he goes. You may 
 listen if you choose." She spoke authoritatively. 
 
 " I will not," answered Nino, in a determined 
 whisper. 
 
 " You will not ? '' Her eyes flashed again. He 
 shook his head. 
 
 " Count von Lira," she said aloud, turning to him, 
 " do you know this young man ? " She spoke in 
 Italian, and Von Lira answered in the same lan 
 guage ; but as what he said was not exactly humor 
 ous, I will spare you the strange construction of his 
 sentences. 
 
 " Perfectly," he answered. " It is precisely con 
 cerning this young man that I desire to speak with 
 you." The count remained standing because the 
 baroness had not told him to be seated. 
 
 "That is fortunate," replied the baroness, "for I 
 wish to inform you that he is a villain, a wretch, a 
 miserable fellow! " Her anger was rising again, but 
 she struggled to control it. When Nino realized 
 what she said, he came forward, and stood near the 
 count, facing the baroness, his arms folded on his 
 breast, as though to challenge accusation. The count 
 raised his eyebrows.
 
 134 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 " I am aware that he concealed his real profession 
 so long as he gave my daughter lessons. That, 
 however, has been satisfactorily explained, though 
 I regret it. Pray inform me why you designate 
 him as a villain." Nino felt a thrill of sympathy 
 for this man whom he had so long deceived. 
 
 "This man, sir," said she in measured tones, 
 " this low-born singer, who has palmed himself off 
 on us as a respectable instructor in language, has 
 the audacity to love your daughter. For the sake 
 of pressing his odious suit, he 'has wormed himself 
 into your house, as into mine ; he has sung beneath 
 your daughter's window, and she has dropped let 
 ters to him, love-letters, do you understand ? And 
 now," her voice rose more shrill and uncontrol 
 lable at every word, as she saw Lira's face turn 
 white, and her anger gave desperate utterance to the 
 lie, " and now he has the effrontery to come to 
 me to me to me of all women and to confess 
 his abominable passion for that pure angel, implor 
 ing me to assist him in bringing destruction upon 
 her and you. Oh, it is execrable, it is vile, it is 
 hellish ! " She pressed her hands to her temples as 
 she stood, and glared at the two men. The count 
 was a strong man, easily petulant, but hard to move 
 to real anger. Though his face was white and his 
 right hand clutched his crutch-stick, he still kept 
 the mastery of himself. 
 
 " Is what you tell me true, madam ? " he asked 
 in a strange voice. 
 
 " Before God, it is true ! " she cried desperately.
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 135 
 
 The old man looked at her for one moment, and 
 then, as though he had been twenty years younger, 
 he made at Nino, brandishing his stick to strike. 
 But Nino is strong and young, and he is almost a 
 Roman. He foresaw the count's action, and his 
 right hand stole to the table, and grasped the clean, 
 murderous knife ; the baroness had used it so inno 
 cently to cut the leaves of her book, half an hour 
 before. -With one wrench he had disarmed the 
 elder man, forced him back upon a lounge, and set 
 the razor edge of his weapon against the count's 
 throat. 
 
 " If you speak one word, or try to strike me, I 
 will cut off your head," he said quietly, bringing 
 his cold, marble face close down to the old man's 
 eyes. There was something so deathly in his voice, 
 in spite of its quiet sound, that the count thought 
 his hour was come, brave man as he was. The 
 baroness tottered back against the opposite wall, 
 and stood staring at the two, disheveled and hor 
 rified. 
 
 " This woman," said Nino, still holding the cold 
 thing against the flesh, " lies in part, and in part 
 tells the truth. I love your daughter, it is true." 
 The poor old man quivered beneath Nino's weight, 
 and his eyes rolled wildly, searching for some 
 means of escape. But it was of no use. " I 
 love her, and have sung beneath her window ; but I 
 never had a written word from her in my life, and 
 I neither told this woman of my love nor asked her 
 assistance. She guessed it at the first ; she guessed
 
 136 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 the reason of my disguise, and she herself offered 
 to help me. You may speak now. Ask her." 
 Nino relaxed his hold, and stood off, still grasping 
 the knife. The old count breathed, shook himself 
 and passed his handkerchief over his face before 
 he spoke. The baroness stood as though she were 
 petrified. 
 
 "Thunder weather, you are a devilish young 
 man ! " said Von Lira, still panting. Then he sud 
 denly recovered his dignity. " You have caused 
 me to assault this young man, by what you told 
 me," he said, struggling to his feet. " He defended 
 himself, and might have killed me, had he chosen. 
 Be good enough to tell me whether he has spoken 
 the truth, or you." 
 
 " He has spoken the truth," answered the 
 baroness, staring vacantly about her. Her fright 
 had taken from her even the faculty of lying. Her 
 voice was low, but she articulated the words dis 
 tinctly. Then, suddenly, she threw up her hands, 
 with a short, quick scream, and fell forward, sense 
 less, on the floor. Nino looked at the count, and 
 dropped his knife on a table. The count looked at 
 Nino. 
 
 " Sir," said the old gentleman, " I forgive you 
 for resisting my assault. I do not forgive you for 
 presuming to love my daughter, and I will find 
 means to remind you of the scandal you have 
 brought on my house." He drew himself up to 
 his full height. Nino handed him his crutch- stick 
 civilly.
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 137 
 
 " Signer Conte," he said, simply, but with all 
 his natural courtesy, " I am sorry for this affair, 
 to which you forced me, or rather the Signora 
 Baronessa forced us both. I have acted foolishly, 
 perhaps, but I am in love. And permit me to 
 assure you, sir, that I will yet marry the Signorina 
 di Lira, if she consents to marry me." 
 
 " By the name of Heaven," swore the old count, 
 " if she wants to marry a singer, she shall." He 
 limped to the door in sullen anger, and went out. 
 Nino turned to the prostrate figure of the poor 
 baroness. The continued strain on her nerves had 
 broken her down, and she lay on the floor in a dead 
 faint. Nino put a cushion from the lounge under 
 her head, and rang the bell. The servant appeared 
 instantly. 
 
 " Bring water quickly ! " he cried. " The signora 
 has fainted." He stood looking at the senseless 
 figure of the woman, as she lay across the rich 
 Persian rugs that covered the floor. 
 
 " Why did you not bring salts, cologne, her 
 maid run, I tell you ! " he said to the man, who 
 brought the glass of water on a gilded tray. He 
 had forgotten that the fellow could not be expected 
 to have any sense. When her people came at 
 last, he had sprinkled her face, and she had un 
 consciously swallowed enough of the water to have 
 some effect in reviving her. She began to open 
 her eyes, and her fingers moved nervously. Nino 
 found his hat, and, casting one glance around the 
 room that had just witnessed such strange doings,
 
 138 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 passed through the door and went out. The baron 
 ess was left with her servants. Poor woman ! She 
 did veiy wrong, perhaps, but anybody would have 
 loved her except Nino. She must have been 
 terribly shaken, one would have thought, and she 
 ought to have gone to lie down, and should have 
 sent for the doctor to bleed her. But she did 
 nothing of the kind. 
 
 She came to see me. I was alone in the house, 
 late in the afternoon, when the sun was just gilding 
 the tops of the houses. I heard the doorbell ring, 
 and I went to answer it myself. There stood the 
 beautiful baroness, alone, with all her dark soft 
 things around her, as pale as death, and her eyes 
 swollen sadly with weeping. Nino had come home 
 and told me something about the scene in the morn 
 ing, and I can tell you I gave him a piece of my 
 mind about his follies. 
 
 " Does Professor Cornelio Grandi live here ? " 
 she asked, in a low voice. 
 
 "I am he, signora," I answered. "Will you 
 please to come in?" And so she came into our 
 little sitting-room, and sat over there in the old 
 green arm-chair. I shall never forget it as long 
 as I live. 
 
 I cannot tell you all she said in that brief half 
 hour, for it pains me to think of it. She spoke as 
 though I were her confessor, so humbly and quietly, 
 as though it had all happened ten years ago. 
 There is no stubbornness in those tiger women 
 when once they break down.
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 139 
 
 She said she was going away ; that she had done 
 my boy a great wrong, and wished to make such 
 reparation as she could by telling me, at least, the 
 truth. She did not scruple to say that she had 
 loved him, nor that she had done everything in her 
 power to keep him ; though he had never so much 
 as looked at her, she added pathetically. She 
 wished to have me know exactly how it happened, 
 no matter what I might think of her. 
 
 " You are a nobleman, count," she said to me at 
 last, " and I can trust you as one of my own people, 
 I am sure. Yes, I know : you have been unfortu 
 nate, and are now a professor. But that does not 
 change the blood. I can trust you. You need 
 not tell him I came, unless you wish it. I shall 
 never see him again. I am glad to have been here, 
 to see where he lives." She rose, and moved to 
 go. I confess that the tears were in my eyes. 
 There was a pile of music on the old piano. 
 There was a loose leaf on the top, with his name 
 written on it. She took it in her hand, and looked 
 inquiringly at me out of her sad eyes. I knew she 
 wanted to take it, and I nodded. 
 
 " I shall never see him again, you know." Her 
 voice was gentle and weak, and she hastened to the 
 door ; so that almost before I knew it she was 
 gone. The sun had left the red-tiled roofs opposite, 
 and the goldfinch was silent in his cage. So I sat 
 down in the chair where she had rested, and folded 
 my hands, and thought, as I am always thinking 
 ever since, how I could have loved such a woman
 
 140 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 as that ; so passionate, so beautiful, so piteously 
 sorry for what she had done that was wrong. Ah 
 me ! for the years that are gone away so cruelly, 
 for the days so desperately dead ! Give me but one 
 of those golden days, and I would make the pomp 
 of emperors ridiculous. A greater man than I said 
 that, a man over the seas, with a great soul, who 
 wrote in a foreign tongue, but spoke a language 
 germane to all human speech. But even he cannot 
 bring back one of those dear days. I would give 
 much to have that one day back, when she came 
 and told me all her woes. But that is impossible. 
 
 When they came to wake her in the morning 
 the very morning after that she was dead in 
 her bed ; the color gone forever from those velvet 
 cheeks, the fire quenched out of those passionate 
 eyes, past power of love or hate to rekindle. Re- 
 quiescat in pace, and may God give her eternal rest 
 and forgiveness for all her sins. Poor, beautiful, 
 erring woman !
 
 IX. 
 
 AT nine o'clock on the morning of the baroness's 
 death, as Nino was busy singing scales, there was 
 a ring at the door, and presently Mariuccia came 
 running in as fast as her poor old legs could carry 
 her, and whiter than a pillow-case, to say that there 
 was a man at the door with two gendarmes, asking 
 for Nino; and before I could question her, the 
 three men walked unbidden into the room, demand 
 ing which was Giovanni Cardegna, the singer. 
 Nino started, and then said quietly that he was the 
 man. I have had dealings with these people, and I 
 know what is best to be done. They were inclined 
 to be rough and very peremptory. I confess. I was 
 frightened; but I think I am more cunning when 
 I am a little afraid. 
 
 " Mariuccia," I said, as she stood trembling in 
 the doorway, waiting to see what would happen, 
 "fetch a flask of that old wine, and serve these 
 gentlemen, and a few chestnuts, if you have 
 some. Be seated, signori," I said to them, " and 
 take one of these cigars. My boy is a singer, and 
 you would not hurt his voice by taking him out so 
 early on this raw morning. Sit down, Nino, and 
 ask these gentlemen what they desire." They all 
 sat down, somewhat sullenly, and the gendarmes' 
 sabres clanked on the brick floor.
 
 142 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 "What do you wish from me?" asked Nino, 
 who was not much moved after the first surprise. 
 
 " We regret to say," answered the man in plain 
 clothes, " that we are here to arrest you." 
 
 "May I inquire on what charge?" I asked. 
 " But first let me fill your glasses. Dry throats 
 make surly answers, as the provei'b says." They 
 drank. It chanced that the wine was good, being 
 from my own vineyard, my little vineyard that I 
 bought outside of Porta Salara, and the men 
 were cold and wet, for it was raining. 
 
 " Well," said the man who had spoken before, 
 he was clean-shaved and fat, and he smacked his 
 lips over the wine, " it is not our way to answer 
 questions. But since you are so civil, I will tell 
 you that you are arrested on suspicion of having 
 poisoned that Russian baroness, with the long 
 name, at whose house you have been so intimate." 
 
 "Poisoned? The baroness poisoned? Is she 
 very ill, then ? " asked Nino, in great alarm. 
 
 " She is dead," said the fat man, wiping his 
 mouth, and twisting the empty glass in his hand. 
 
 " Dead ! " cried Nino and I together. 
 
 "Dead yes; as dead as St. Peter," he an 
 swered irreverently. "Your wine is good, Signer 
 Prof essore. Yes, I will take another glass and 
 my men, too. Yes, she was found dead this morn 
 ing, lying in her bed. You were there yesterday, 
 Signor Cardegna, and her servant says he saw you 
 giving her something in a glass of water." He 
 drank a long draught from his glass. " You would
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 143 
 
 have done better to give her some of this wine, my 
 friend. She would certainly be alive to-day." But 
 Nino was dark and thoughtful. He must have been 
 pained and terribly shocked at the sudden news, of 
 course, but he did not admire her as I did. 
 
 " Of course this thing will soon be over," he said 
 at last. " I am very much grieved to hear of the 
 lady's death, but it is absurd to suppose that I was 
 concerned in it, however it happened. She fainted 
 suddenly in the morning when I was there, and I 
 gave her some water to drink, but there was noth 
 ing in it." He clasped his hands on his knee, and 
 looked much distressed. 
 
 "It is quite possible that you poisoned her," 
 remarked the fat man, with annoying indifference. 
 " The servant says he overheard high words be 
 tween you " 
 
 "He overheard?" cried Nino, springing to his 
 feet. " Cursed beast, to listen at the door ! " He 
 began to walk about excitedly. " How long is this 
 affair to keep me?" he asked suddenly. " I have 
 to sing to-night and that poor lady lying there 
 dead oh, I cannot ! " 
 
 " Perhaps you will not be detained more than a 
 couple of hours," said the fat man. " And perhaps 
 you will be detained until the Day of Judgment," 
 he added, with a sly wink at the gendarmes, who 
 laughed obsequiously. " By this afternoon, the 
 doctors will know of what she died ; and if there 
 was no poison, and she died a natural death, you 
 can go to the theatre and sing, if you have the
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 stomach. I would, I am sure. You see, she is a 
 great lady, and the people of her embassy are caus 
 ing everything to be done very quickly. If you 
 had poisoned that old lady who brought us this 
 famous wine a minute ago, you might have had to 
 wait till next year, innocent or guilty." It struck 
 me that the wine was producing its effect. 
 
 "Very well," said Nino, resolutely ; "let us go. 
 You will see that I am perfectly ready, although 
 the news has shaken me much ; and so you will 
 permit me to walk quietly with you, without at 
 tracting any attention ? " 
 
 " Oh, we woidd not think of incommoding you," 
 said the fat man. " The orders were expressly to 
 give you every convenience, and we have a private 
 carriage below. Signor Grandi, we thank you 
 for your civility. Good-morning a thousand ex 
 cuses." He bowed, and the gendarmes rose to 
 their feet, refreshed and ruddy with the good wine. 
 Of course I knew I could not accompany them, and 
 I was too much frightened to have been of any use. 
 Poor Mariuccia was crying in the kitchen. 
 
 " Send word to Jacovacci, the manager, if you do 
 not hear by twelve o'clock," Nino called back from 
 the landing, and the door closed behind them all. 
 I was left alone, sad and frightened, and I felt 
 very old, much older than I am. 
 
 It was tragic. Mechanically I sank into the old 
 green arui-chair, where she had sat but yesterday 
 evening, she whom I had seen but twice, once in 
 the theatre and once here, but of whom I had heard
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 145 
 
 so much. And she was dead, so soon. If Nino 
 could only have heard her last words and seen her 
 last look, he would have been more hurt when he 
 heard of her sudden death. But he is of stone, 
 that man, save for his love and his art. He seems 
 to have no room left for sympathy with human ills, 
 nor even for fear on his own account. Fear ! 
 how I hate the word ! Nino did not seem fright 
 ened at all, when they took him away. But as for 
 me well, it was not for myself this time, at least. 
 That is some comfort. I think one may be afraid 
 for other people. 
 
 Mariuccia was so much disturbed that I was 
 obliged to go myself to get De Pretis, who gave up 
 all his lessons that day and came to give me his ad 
 vice. He looked grave and spoke very little, but 
 he is a broad-shouldered, genial man, and very com 
 forting. He insisted on going himself at once to 
 see Nino, to give him all the help he could. He 
 would not hear of my going, for he said I ought to 
 be bled and have some tea of mallows to calm me. 
 And when I offered him a cigar from the box of 
 good ones Nino had given me, he took six or seven, 
 and put them in his pocket without saying a word. 
 But I did not grudge them to him ; for though he 
 is very ridiculous, with his skull-cap and his snuff 
 box, he is a leal man, as we say, who stands by his 
 friends and snaps his fingers at the devil. 
 
 I cannot describe to you the anxiety I felt 
 through all that day. I could not eat, nor drink, 
 nor write. I could not smoke, and when I tried to 
 10
 
 146 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 go to sleep that cat an apoplexy on her ! 
 climbed up on my shoulder and clawed my hair. 
 Mariuccia sat moaning in the kitchen, and could 
 not cook at all, so that I was half starved. 
 
 At three o'clock De Pretis came back. 
 
 " Courage, conte mio ! " he cried ; and I knew 
 it was all right. " Courage ! Nino is at liberty 
 again, and says he will sing to-night to show 
 them he is not a clay doll, to be broken by a little 
 knocking about. Ah, what a glorious boy Nino 
 is!" 
 
 " But where is he ? " I asked, when I could find 
 voice to speak, for I was all trembling. 
 
 " He is gone for a good walk, to freshen his 
 nerves, poverino. I wonder he has any strength left. 
 For Heaven's sake, give me a match that I may 
 light my cigar, and then I will tell you all about it. 
 Thank you. And I will sit down, comfortably 
 so. Now you must know that the baroness re- 
 quiescat ! was not poisoned by Nino, or by any 
 one else." 
 
 " Of course not ! Go on." 
 
 " Piano, slow and sure. They had a terrific 
 scene, yesterday. You know? Yes. Then she 
 went out and tired herself, poor soul, so that when 
 she got home she had an attack of the nerves. 
 Now these foreigners, who are a pack of silly people, 
 do not have themselves bled and drink malva water 
 as we do when we get a fit of anger. But they 
 take opium ; that is, a thing they call chloral. God 
 knows what it is made of, but it puts them to sleep.
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 147 
 
 like opium. When the doctors came to look at 
 the poor lady, they saw at once what was the mat 
 ter, and called the maid. The maid said her mis 
 tress certainly had some queer stuff in a little bot 
 tle, which she often used to take ; and when they 
 inquired further they heard that the baroness had 
 poured out much more than usual the night before, 
 while the maid was combing her hair, for she 
 seemed terribly excited and restless. So they got 
 the bottle and found it nearly empty. Then the 
 doctors said, ' At what time was this young man 
 who is now arrested seen to give her the glass of 
 water ? ' The man-servant said it was about two 
 in the afternoon. So the doctors knew that if Nino 
 had given her the chloral she could not have gone 
 out afterwards, and have been awake at eleven in 
 the evening when her maid was with her, and yet 
 have been hurt by what he gave her. And so, as 
 Jacovacci was raising a thousand devils in every 
 corner of Rome because they had arrested his prin 
 cipal singer on false pretenses, and was threaten 
 ing to bring suits against everybody, including the 
 Russian embassy, the doctors, and the government, 
 if Nino did not appear in Faust to-night, according 
 to his agreement, the result was that, half an hour 
 ago, Nino was conducted out of the police precincts 
 with ten thousand apologies, and put into the arms 
 of Jacovacci, who wept for joy, and carried him off 
 to a late breakfast at Morteo's. And then I came 
 here. But I made Nino promise to take a good 
 walk for his digestion, since the weather has changed.
 
 148 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 For a breakfast at three in the afternoon may be 
 called late, even in Rome. And that reminds me 
 to ask you for a drop of wine ; for I am still fast 
 ing, and this talking is worse for the throat than a 
 dozen high masses." 
 
 Mariuccia had been listening at the door, as 
 usual, and she immediately began crying for joy ; 
 for she is a weak-minded old thing, and dotes 011 
 Nino. I was very glad myself, I can tell you ; but 
 I could not understand how Nino could have the 
 heart to sing, or should lack heart so much as to 
 be fit for it. Before the evening he came home, 
 silent and thoughtful. I asked him whether he 
 were not glad to be free so easily. 
 
 " That is not a very intelligent question for a 
 philosopher like you to ask," he answered. " Of 
 course I am glad of my liberty ; any man would be. 
 But I feel that I am as much the cause of that 
 poor lady's death as though I had killed her with 
 my own hands. I shall never forgive myself." 
 
 "Diana! " I cried, " it is a horrible tragedy ; but 
 it seems to me that you could not help it if she 
 chose to love you." 
 
 " Hush ! " said he, so sternly that he frightened 
 me. " She is dead. God give her soul rest. Let 
 us not talk of what she did." 
 
 " But," I objected, " if you feel so strongly 
 about it, how can you sing at the opera to-night ? " 
 
 " There are plenty of reasons why I should sing. 
 In the first place, I owe it to my engagement with 
 Jacovacci. He has taken endless trouble to have
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 149 
 
 me cleared at once, and I will not disappoint him. 
 Besides, I have not lost my voice, and might be 
 half ruined by breaking contract so early. Then, 
 the afternoon papers are full of the whole affair, 
 some right and some wrong, and I am bound to 
 show the Contessina di Lira that this unfortunate 
 accident does not touch my heart, however sorry I 
 may be. If I did not appear, all Rome would say 
 it was because I was heart-broken. If she does 
 not go to the theatre, she will at least hear of it. 
 Therefore I will sing." It was very reasonable 
 of him to think so. 
 
 " Have any of the papers got hold of the story 
 of your giving lessons ? " 
 
 " No, I think not ; and there is no mention of 
 the Lira family." 
 
 " So much the better." 
 
 Hedwig did not go to the opera. Of course she 
 was quite right. However she might feel about 
 the baroness, it would have been in the worst pos 
 sible taste to go to the opera the very day after 
 her death. That is the way society puts it. It is 
 bad taste ; they never say it is heartless, or unkind, 
 or brutal. It is simply bad taste. Nino sang, 
 on the whole, better than if she had been there, for 
 he put his whole soul in his art, and won fresh lau 
 rels. When it was over he was besieged by the 
 agent of the London manager to come to some 
 agreement. 
 
 "I cannot tell yet," he said. "I will tell you 
 soon." He was not willing to leave Rome, that
 
 150 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 was the truth of the matter. He thought of noth 
 ing, day or night, but of how he might see Hedwig^ 
 and his heart writhed in his breast when it seemed 
 more and more impossible. He dared not risk 
 compromising her by another serenade, as he felt 
 sure that it had been some servant of the count 
 who had betrayed him to the baroness. At last he 
 hit upon a plan. The funeral of the baroness was 
 to take place on the afternoon of the next day. 
 He felt sure that the Graf von Lira would go to it, 
 and he was equally certain that Hedwig would not. 
 It chanced to be the hour at which De Pretis went 
 to the Palazzo to give her the singing lesson. 
 
 " I suppose it is a barbarous thing for me to do," 
 he said to himself, " but I cannot help it. Love 
 first, and tragedy afterwards." 
 
 In the afternoon, therefore, he sallied out, and 
 went boldly to the Palazzo Carmandola. He in 
 quired of the porter whether the Signer Conte had 
 gone out, and just as he had expected, so he found 
 it. Old Lira had left the house ten minutes ear 
 lier, to go to the funeral. Nino ran up the stairs 
 and rang the bell. The footman opened the door, 
 and Nino quickly slipped a five-franc note into his 
 hand, which he had no difficulty in finding. On 
 asking if the signorina were at home, the footman 
 nodded, and added that Professor De Pretis was 
 with her, but she would doubtless see Professor 
 Cardegna as well. And so it turned out. He was 
 ushered into the great drawing-room, where the 
 piano was. Hedwig came forward a few steps from
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 151 
 
 where she had been standing beside De Pretis, and 
 Nino bowed low before her. She had on a long 
 dark dress, and no ornament whatever, save her 
 beautiful bright hair, so that her face was like a 
 jewel set in gold and velvet. But, when I think 
 of it, such a combination would seem absurdly vul 
 gar by the side of Iledwig von Lira. She was so 
 pale and exquisite and sad that Nino could hardly 
 look at her. He remembered that there were vi 
 olets, rarest of flowers in Rome in January, in her 
 belt. 
 
 To tell the truth, Nino had expected to find her 
 stern and cold, whereas she was only very quiet 
 and sorrowful. 
 
 " Will you forgive me, signorina, for this rash 
 ness ? " he asked in a low voice. 
 
 " In that I receive you I forgive you, sir," she 
 said. He glanced toward De Pretis, who seemed 
 absorbed in some music at the piano and was play 
 ing over bits of an accompaniment. She under 
 stood, and moved slowly to a window at the other 
 end of the great room, standing among the curtains. 
 He placed himself in the embrasure. She looked 
 at him long and earnestly, as if finally reconciling 
 the singer with the man she had known so long. 
 She found him changed, as I had, in a short time. 
 His face was sterner and thinner and whiter than 
 before, and there were traces of thought in the deep 
 shadows beneath his eyes. Quietly observing him, 
 she saw how perfectly simple and exquisitely care 
 ful was his dress, and how his hands bespoke that
 
 152 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 attention which only a gentleman gives to the de 
 tails of his person. She saw that, if he were not 
 handsome, he was in the last degree striking to the 
 eye, in spite of all his simplicity, and that he would 
 not lose by being contrasted with all the dandies 
 and courtiers in Rome. As she looked, she saw 
 his lip quiver slightly, the only sign of emotion he 
 ever gives, unless he loses his head altogether, and 
 storms, as he sometimes does. 
 
 " Signorina," he began, " I have come to tell you 
 a story ; will you listen to it ? " 
 
 " Tell it me," said she, still looking in his face. 
 
 " There was once a solitary castle in the moun 
 tains, with battlement and moat both high and 
 broad. Far up in a lonely turret dwelt a rare 
 maiden, of such surpassing beauty and fairness that 
 the peasants thought she was not mortal, but an 
 angel from heaven, resting in that tower from the 
 doing of good deeds. She had flowers up there in 
 her chamber, and the seeds of flowers ; and as the 
 seasons passed by, she took from her store the dry 
 germs, and planted them one after another in a 
 little earth on the window-sill. And the sun shone 
 on them and they grew, and she breathed upon 
 them and they were sweet. But they withered and 
 bore no offspring, and fell away, so that year by 
 year her store became diminished. At last there 
 was but one little paper bag of seed left, and upon 
 the cover was written in a strange character, ' This 
 is the Seed of the Thorn of the World.' But the 
 beautiful maiden was sad when she saw this, for
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 153 
 
 she said, 'All my flowers have been sweet, and 
 now I have but this thing left, which is a thorn ! ' 
 And she opened the paper and looked inside, and 
 saw one poor little seed, all black and shriveled. 
 Through that day she pondered what to do with it, 
 and was very unhappy. At night she said to her 
 self, ' I will not plant this one ; I will throw it 
 away, rather than plant it.' And she went to the 
 window, and tore the paper, and threw out the little 
 seed into the darkness." 
 
 " Poor little thing ! " said Hedwig. She was lis 
 tening intently. 
 
 " She threw it out, and, as it fell, all the air was 
 full of music, sad and sweet, so that she wondered 
 greatly. The next day she looked out of the win 
 dow, and saw, between the moat and the castle wall, 
 a new plant growing. It looked black and uninvit 
 ing, but it had come up so fast that it had already 
 laid hold on the rough gray stones. At the falling 
 of the night it reached far up towards the turret, a 
 great sharp-pointed vine, with only here and there a 
 miserable leaf on it. ' I am sorry I threw it out,' 
 said the maiden. ' It is the Thorn of the World, 
 and the people who pass will think it defaces my 
 castle.' But when it was dark again the air was 
 full of music. The maiden went to the window, 
 for she could not sleep, and she called out, asking 
 who it was that sang. Then a sweet, low voice 
 came up to her from the moat. ' I am the Thorn,' 
 it said, ' I sing in the dark, for I am growing.' 
 ' Sing on, Thorn,' said she, ' and grow if you will.'
 
 154 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 But in the morning, when she awoke, her window 
 was darkened, for the Thorn had grown to be a 
 mighty tree, and its topmost shoots were black 
 against the sky. She wondered whether this un 
 couth plant would bear anything but music. So 
 she spoke to it. 
 
 " ' Thorn,' she said, ' why have you no flowers ? ' 
 
 " ' I am the Thorn of the World,' it answered, 
 'and I can bear no flowers until the hand that 
 planted me has tended me, and pruned me, and 
 shaped me to be its own. If you had planted me 
 like the rest, it would have been easy for you. But 
 you planted me unwillingly, down below you by the 
 moat, and I have had far to climb.' 
 
 " ' But my hands are so delicate,' said the maiden. 
 ' You will hurt me, I am sure.' 
 
 " ' Yours is the only hand in the world that I will 
 not hurt,' said the voice, so tenderly and softly and 
 sadly that the gentle fingers went out to touch the 
 plant and see if it were real. And touching it they 
 clung there, for they had no harm of it. Would 
 you know, my lady, what happened then ? " 
 
 " Yes, yes tell me ! " cried Hedwig, whose im 
 agination was fascinated by the tale. 
 
 " As her hands rested on the spiked branches, a 
 gentle trembling went through the Thorn, and in a 
 moment there burst out such a blooming and blos 
 soming as the maiden had never seen. Every prick 
 became a rose, and they were so many that the light 
 of. the day was tinged with them, and their sweet 
 ness was like the breath of paradise. But below
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 155 
 
 her window the Thorn was as black and forbidding 
 as ever, for only the maiden's presence could make 
 its flowers bloom. But she smelled the flowers, 
 and pressed many of them to her cheek. 
 
 " ' I thought you were only a Thorn,' she said 
 softly. 
 
 '"Nay, fairest maiden,' answered the glorious 
 voice of the bursting blossom, ' I am the Rose of 
 the World forever, since you have touched me.' 
 
 " That is my story, signorina. Have I wearied 
 you?" 
 
 Hedwig had unconsciously moved nearer to him 
 as he was speaking, for he never raised his voice, 
 and she hung on his words. There was color in 
 her face, and her breath came quickly through her 
 parted lips. She had never looked so beautiful. 
 
 " Wearied me, signore ? Ah no ; it is a gentle 
 tale of yours." 
 
 " It is a true tale in part," said he. 
 
 " In part ? I do not understand " But the 
 color was warmer in her cheek, and she turned her 
 face half away, as though looking out. 
 
 " I will tell you," he replied, coming closer, on 
 the side from which she turned. " Here is the 
 window. You are the maiden. The thorn it is 
 my love for you ; " he dropped his voice to a whis 
 per. " You planted it carelessly, far below you in 
 the dark. In the dark it has grown and sung to 
 you, and grown again, until now it stands in your 
 own castle window. Will you not touch it and 
 make its flowers bloom for you?" He spoke fer-
 
 156 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 vently. She had turned her face quite from him 
 now, and was resting her forehead against one 
 hand that leaned upon the heavy frame of the case 
 ment. The other hand hang down by her side 
 toward him, fair as a lily against her dark gown. 
 Nino touched it, then took it. He could see the 
 blush spread to her white throat, and fade again. 
 Between the half-falling curtain and the great win 
 dow he bent his knee and pressed her fingers to his 
 lips. She made as though she would withdraw her 
 hand, and then left it in his. Her glance stole to 
 him as he kneeled there, and he felt it on him, so 
 that he looked up. She seemed to raise him with 
 her fingers, and her eyes held his and drew them ; 
 he stood up, and, still holding her hand, his face 
 was near to hers. Closer and closer yet, as by 
 a spell, each gazing searchingly into the other's 
 glance, till their eyes could see no more for close 
 ness, and their lips met in life's first virgin kiss, 
 in the glory and strength of a twofold purity, each 
 to each. 
 
 Far off at the other end of the room De Pretis 
 struck a chord on the piano. They started at the 
 sound. 
 
 " When ? " whispered Nino, hurriedly. 
 
 " At midnight, under my window," she answered 
 quickly, not thinking of anything better in her 
 haste. " I will tell you then. You must go ; my 
 father will soon be here. No, not again," she pro 
 tested. But he drew her to him, and said good-by 
 in his own manner. She lingered an instant, and
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 157 
 
 tore herself away. De Pretis was playing loudly. 
 Nino had to pass near him to go out, and the maes 
 tro nodded carelessly as he went by. 
 
 "Excuse me, maestro," said Hedwig, as Nino 
 bowed himself out ; " it was a question of arrang 
 ing certain lessons." 
 
 " Do not mention it," said he indifferently ; " my 
 time is yours, signorina. Shall we go through with 
 this solfeggio once more ? " 
 
 The good maestro did not seem greatly disturbed 
 by the interruption. Hedwig wondered, dreamily, 
 whether he had understood. It all seemed like 
 a dream. The notes were upside down in her 
 sight, and her voice sought strange minor keys un 
 consciously, as she vainly tried to concentrate her 
 attention upon what she was doing. 
 
 " Signorina," said Ercole at last, " what you sing 
 is very pretty, but it is not exactly what is written 
 here. I fear you are tired." 
 
 " Perhaps so," said she. " Let us not sing any 
 more to-day." Ercole shut up the music and rose. 
 She gave him her hand, a thing she had never 
 done before ; and it was unconscious now, as every 
 thing she did seemed to be. There is a point when 
 dreaming gets the mastery, and appears infinitely 
 more real than the things we touch. 
 
 Nino, meanwhile, had descended the steps, ex 
 pecting every moment to meet the count. As he 
 went down the street, a closed carriage drove by 
 with the Lira liveries. The old count was in it, 
 but Nino stepped into the shadow of a doorway to
 
 158 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 let the equipage pass, and was not seen. The 
 wooden face of the old nobleman almost betrayed 
 something akin to emotion. He was returning from 
 the funeral, and it had pained him ; for he had 
 liked the wild baroness, in a fatherly, reproving 
 way. But the sight of him sent a home thrust to 
 Nino's heart. 
 
 " Her death is on my soul forever," he muttered 
 between his set teeth. Poor innocent boy, it was 
 not his fault if she had loved him so much. Women 
 have done things for great singers that they have 
 not done for martyrs or heroes. It seems so cer 
 tain that the voice that sings so tenderly is speak 
 ing to them individually. Music is such a fleeting, 
 passionate thing that a woman takes it all to her 
 self ; how could he sing like that for any one else ? 
 And yet there is always some one for whom he 
 does really pour out his heart, and all the rest are 
 the dolls of life, to be looked at, and admired for 
 their dress and complexion, and to laugh at when 
 the fancy takes him to laugh ; but not to love. 
 
 At midnight Nino was at his post, but he waited 
 long and patiently for a sign. It was past two, and 
 he was thinking it hopeless to wait longer, when 
 his quick ear caught the sound of a window moving 
 on its hinges, and a moment later something fell 
 at his feet with a sharp, metallic click. The night 
 was dark and cloudy, so that the waning moon gave 
 little light. He picked up the thing, and found a 
 small pocket handkerchief wrapped about a minute 
 pair of scissors, apparently to give it weight. He
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 159 
 
 expected a letter, and groped on the damp pave 
 ment with his hands. Then he struck a match, 
 shaded it from the breeze with his hand, and saw 
 that the handkerchief was stained with ink and 
 that the stains were letters, roughly printed to 
 make them distinct. He hurried away to the light 
 of a street lamp to read the strange missive.
 
 X. 
 
 HE went to the light and spread out the hand 
 kerchief. It was a small thing, of almost trans 
 parent stuff, with a plain " H. L." and a crown in 
 the corner. The steel pen had torn the delicate 
 fibres here and there. 
 
 " They know you have been here. I am watched. 
 Keep away from the house till you hear." 
 
 That was all the message, but it told worlds. He 
 knew from it that the count was informed of his 
 visit, and he tortured himself by trying to imagine 
 what the angry old man would do. His heart sank 
 like a stone in his breast when he thought of Hed- 
 wig so imprisoned, guarded, made a martyr of, for 
 his folly. He groaned aloud when he understood 
 that it was in the power of her father to take her 
 away suddenly and leave no trace of their destina 
 tion, and he cursed his haste and impetuosity in 
 having shown himself inside the house. But with 
 all this weight of trouble upon him, he felt the 
 strength and indomitable determination within him 
 which come only to a man who loves, when he 
 knows he is loved again. He kissed the little 
 handkerchief, and even the scissors she had used 
 to weight it with, and he put them in his breast. 
 But he stood irresolute, leaning against the lamp-
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 161 
 
 post, as a man will who is trying to force his 
 thoughts to overtake events, trying to shape the 
 future out of the present. Suddenly, he was aware 
 of a tall figure in a fur coat standing near him on 
 the sidewalk. He would have turned to go, but 
 something about the stranger's appearance struck 
 him so oddly that he stayed where he was and 
 watched him. 
 
 The tall man searched for something in his 
 pockets, and finally produced a cigarette, which he 
 leisurely lighted with a wax match. As he did so 
 his eyes fell upon Nino. The stranger was tall and 
 very thin. He wore a pointed beard and a heavy 
 mustache, which seemed almost dazzlingly white, as 
 were the few locks that appeared, neatly brushed 
 over his temples, beneath his opera hat. His san 
 guine complexion, however, had all the freshness of 
 youth, and his eyes sparkled merrily, as though 
 amused at the spectacle of his nose, which was im 
 mense, curved, and polished, like an eagle's beak. 
 He wore perfectly fitting kid gloves and the collar 
 of his fur wrapper, falling a little open, showed that 
 he was in evening dress. 
 
 It was so late past two o'clock that Nino 
 had not expected anything more than a policeman 
 or some homeless wanderer, when he raised his eyes 
 to look on the stranger. He was fascinated by the 
 strange presence of the aged dandy, for such he 
 seemed to be, and returned his gaze boldly. He 
 was still more astonished, however, when the old 
 gentleman came close to him, and raised his hat, 
 11
 
 162 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 displaying, as he did so, a very high and narrow 
 forehead, crowned with a mass of smooth white 
 hair. There was both grace and authority in the 
 courteous gesture, and Nino thought the old gentle 
 man moved with an ease that matched his youthful 
 complexion rather than his hoary locks. 
 
 " Signer Cardegna, the distinguished artist, if I 
 mistake not ? " said the stranger, with a peculiar 
 foreign accent, the like of which Nino had never 
 heard. He, also, raised his hat, extremely surprised 
 that a chance passer-by should know him. He had 
 not yet learned what it is to be famous. But he 
 was far from pleased at being addressed in his 
 present mood. 
 
 " The same, signore," he replied coldly. " How 
 can I serve you ? " 
 
 "You can serve the world you so well adorn bet 
 ter than by exposing your noble voice to the mid 
 night damps and chills of this infernal I would 
 say, eternal city," answered the other. " For 
 give me. I am, not unnaturally, concerned at the 
 prospect of losing even a small portion of the pleas 
 ure you know how to give to me and to many 
 others." 
 
 " I thank you for your flattery," said Nino, draw 
 ing his cloak about him, " but it appears to me that 
 my throat is my own, and whatever voice there may 
 be in it. Are you a physician, signore ? And pray 
 why do you tell me that Rome is an infernal city? " 
 
 "I have had some experience of Rome, Signer 
 Cardegna," returned the foreigner, with a peculiar
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 163 
 
 smile, " and I hate no place so bitterly in all this 
 world save one. And as for my being a physi 
 cian, I am an old man, a very singularly old man in 
 fact, and I know something of the art of healing." 
 
 " When I need healing, as you call it," said Nino 
 rather scornfully, " I will inquire for you. Do you 
 desire to continue this interview amid the ' damps 
 and chills ' of our ' infernal city ' ? If not, I will 
 wish you good-evening." 
 
 " By no means," said the other, not in the least 
 repulsed by Nino's coldness. " I will accompany 
 you a little way, if you will allow me." Nino 
 stared hard at the stranger, wondering what could 
 induce him to take so much interest in a singer. 
 Then he nodded gravely, and turned toward his 
 home, inwardly hoping that his aggressive acquaint 
 ance lived in the opposite direction. But he was 
 mistaken. The tall man blew a quantity of smoke 
 through his nose and walked by his side. He strode 
 over the pavement with a long, elastic step. 
 
 " I live not far from here," he said, when they 
 had gone a few steps, " and if the Signer Cardegna 
 will accept of a glass of old wine and a good cigar 
 I shall feel highly honored." Somehow an invita 
 tion of this kind was the last thing Nino had 
 expected or desired, least of all from a talkative 
 stranger who seemed determined to make his ac 
 quaintance. 
 
 " I thank you, signore," he answered, " but I 
 have supped, and I do not smoke." 
 
 " Ah I forgot. You are a singer, and must of
 
 164 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 course be careful. That is perhaps the reason why 
 you wander about the streets when the nights are 
 dark and damp. But I can offer you something 
 more attractive than liquor and tobacco. A great 
 violinist lives with me, a queer, nocturnal bird, 
 and if you will come he will be enchanted to play 
 for you. I assure you he is a very good musician, 
 the like of whom you will hardly hear nowadays. 
 He does not play in public any longer, from some 
 odd fancy of his." 
 
 Nino hesitated. Of all instruments he loved the 
 violin best, and in Rome he had had but little op 
 portunity of hearing it well played. Concerts were 
 the rarest of luxuries to him, and violinists in Rome 
 are rarer still. 
 
 " What is his name, signore ? " he asked, un 
 bending a little. 
 
 " You must guess that when you hear him," said 
 the old gentleman, with a short laugh. " But I give 
 you my word of honor he is a great musician. Will 
 you come, or must I offer you further attractions ? " 
 
 " What might they be ? " asked Nino. 
 
 " Nay ; will you come for what I offer you ? If 
 the music is not good, you may go away again." 
 Still Nino hesitated. Sorrowful and fearful of the 
 future as he was, his love gnawing cruelly at his 
 heart, he would have given the whole world for a 
 strain of rare music if only he were not forced to 
 make it himself. Then it struck him that this might 
 be some pitfall. I would not have gone. 
 
 " Sir," he said at last, " if you meditate any foul
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 165 
 
 play, I would advise you to retract your invitation. 
 I will come, and I am well armed." He had my 
 long knife about him somewhere. It is one of my 
 precautions. But the stranger laughed long and 
 loud at the suggestion, so that his voice woke queer 
 echoes in the silent street. Nino did not under 
 stand why he should laugh so much, but he found 
 his knife under his cloak, and made sure it was 
 loose in its leathern sheath. Presently the stranger 
 stopped before the large door of an old palazzo, 
 every house is a palazzo that has an entrance for 
 carriages, and let himself in with a key. There 
 was a lantern on the stone pavement inside, and 
 seeing a light, Nino followed him boldly. The old 
 gentleman took the lantern and led the way up the 
 stairs, apologizing for the distance and the dark 
 ness. At last they stopped, and, entering another 
 door, found themselves in the stranger's apartment. 
 
 " A cardinal lives down-stairs," said he, as he 
 turned up the light of a couple of large lamps that 
 burned dimly in the room they had reached. " The 
 secretary of a very holy order has his office on the 
 other side of my landing, and altogether this is a 
 very religious atmosphere. Pray take off your 
 cloak ; the room is warm." 
 
 Nino looked about him. He had expected to be 
 ushered into some princely dwelling, for he had 
 judged his interlocutor to be some rich and eccen 
 tric noble, unless he were an erratic scamp. He 
 was somewhat taken aback by the spectacle that 
 met his eyes. The furniture was scant, and all in
 
 166 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 the style of the last century. The dust lay half an 
 inch thick on the old gilded ornaments and chande 
 liers. A great pier-glass was cracked from corner 
 to corner, and the metallic backing seemed to be 
 scaling off behind. There were two or three open 
 valises on the marble floor, which latter, however, 
 seemed to have been lately swept. A square table 
 was in the centre, also free from dust, and a few 
 high-backed leathern chairs, studded with brass 
 nails, were ranged about it. On the table stood 
 one of the lamps, and the other was placed on a 
 marble column in a corner, that once must have sup 
 ported a bust, or something of the kind. Old cur 
 tains, moth-eaten and ragged with age, but of a rich 
 material, covered the windows. Nino glanced at the 
 open trunks on the floor, and saw that they con 
 tained a quantity of wearing apparel and the like. 
 He guessed that his acquaintance had lately ar 
 rived. 
 
 " I do not often inhabit this den," said the old 
 gentleman, who had divested himself of his furs, 
 and now showed his thin figure arrayed in the ex 
 treme of full dress. A couple of decorations hung 
 at his button-hole. " I seldom come here, and on 
 my return, the other day, I found that the man I 
 had left in charge was dead, with all his family, 
 and the place has gone to ruin. That is always my 
 luck," he added, with a little laugh. 
 
 " I should think he must have been dead some 
 time," said Nino, looking about him. " There is a 
 great deal of dust here."
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 167 
 
 " Yes, as you say, it is some years," returned his 
 acquaintance, still laughing. He seemed a merry 
 old soul, fifty years younger than his looks. He 
 produced from a case a bottle of wine and two sil 
 ver cups, and placed them on the table. 
 
 " But where is your friend, the violinist? " in 
 quired Nino, who was beginning to be impatient ; 
 for except that the place was dusty and old, there 
 was nothing about it sufficiently interesting to take 
 his thoughts from the subject nearest his heart. 
 
 " I will introduce him to you," said the other, 
 going to one of the valises and taking out a violin 
 case, which he laid on the table and proceeded to 
 open. The instrument was apparently of great age, 
 small and well shaped. The stranger took it up 
 and began to tune it. 
 
 " Do you mean to say that you are yourself the 
 violinist ? " he asked, in astonishment. But the 
 stranger vouchsafed no answer, as he steadied the 
 fiddle with his bearded chin and turned the pegs 
 with his left hand, adjusting the strings. 
 
 Then, suddenly and without any preluding, he 
 began to make music, and from the first note Nino 
 sat enthralled and fascinated, losing himself in the 
 wild sport of the tones. The old man's face be 
 came ashy white as he played, and his white hair 
 appeared to stand away from his head. The long, 
 thin fingers of his left hand chased each other in 
 pairs and singly along the delicate strings, while 
 the bow glanced in the lamplight as it dashed like 
 lightning across the instrument, or remained almost
 
 168 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 stationary, quivering in his magic hold as quickly 
 as the wings of the humming-bird strike the summer 
 air. Sometimes he seemed to be tearing the heart 
 from the old violin ; sometimes it seemed to murmur 
 soft things in his old ear, as though the imprisoned 
 spirit of the music were pleading to be free on the 
 wings of sound : sweet as love that is strong as 
 death ; feverish and murderous as jealousy that is 
 as cruel as the grave ; sobbing great sobs of a terri 
 ble death-song, and screaming in the outrageous 
 frenzy of a furious foe ; wailing thin cries of misery, 
 too exhausted for strong grief; dancing again in 
 horrid madness, as the devils dance over some fresh 
 sinner they have gotten themselves for torture ; and 
 then at last, as the strings bent to the commanding 
 bow, finding the triumph of a glorious rest in great, 
 broad chords, splendid in depth and royal harmony, 
 grand, enormous, and massive as the united choirs 
 of heaven. 
 
 Nino was beside himself, leaning far over the 
 table, straining eyes and ears to understand the 
 wonderful music that made him drunk with its 
 strength. As the tones ceased he sank back in his 
 chair, exhausted by the tremendous effort of his 
 senses. Instantly the old man recovered his former 
 appearance. With his hand he smoothed the thick 
 white hair ; the fresh color came back to his cheeks ; 
 and as he tenderly laid his violin on the table, he 
 was again the exquisitely dressed and courtly gen 
 tleman who had spoken to Nino in the street. The 
 musician disappeared, and the man of the world re-
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 169 
 
 turned. He poured wine into the plain silver cups, 
 and invited Nino to drink ; but the boy pushed the 
 goblet away, and his strange host drank alone. 
 
 " You asked me for the musician's name," he 
 said, with a merry twinkle in his eye, from which 
 every trace of artistic inspiration had faded ; " can 
 you guess it now? " Nino seemed tongue-tied still, 
 but he made an effort. 
 
 " I have heard of Paganini," he said, " but he 
 died years ago." 
 
 " Yes, he is dead, poor fellow ! I am not Paga 
 nini." 
 
 " I am at a loss, then," said Nino dreamily. " I 
 do not know the names of many violinists, but you 
 must be so famous that I ought to know yours." 
 
 " No ; how should you ? I will tell you. I am 
 Benoni, the Jew." The tall man's eyes twinkled 
 more brightly than ever. Nino stared at him, and 
 saw that he was certainly of a pronounced Jewish 
 type. His brown eyes were long and oriental in 
 shape, and his nose was unmistakably Semitic. 
 
 " I am sorry to seem so ignorant," said Nino, 
 blushing, " but I do not know the name. I per 
 ceive, however, that you are indeed a very great 
 musician, the greatest I ever heard." The com 
 pliment was perfectly sincere, and Benoni's face 
 beamed with pleasure. He evidently liked praise. 
 
 " It is not extraordinary," he said, smiling. " In 
 the course of a very long life it has been my only 
 solace, and if I have some skill it is the result of 
 constant study. I began life very humbly."
 
 170 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 " So did I," said Nino thoughtfully, " and I am 
 not far from the humbleness yet." 
 
 " Tell me," said Benoni, with a show of interest, 
 " where you come from, and why you are a singer." 
 
 " I was a peasant's child, an orphan, and the 
 good God gave me a voice. That is all I know 
 about it. A kind-hearted gentleman, who once 
 owned the estate where I was born, brought me up, 
 and wanted to make a philosopher of me. But I 
 wanted to sing, and so I did." 
 
 " Do you always do the things you want to do ? " 
 asked the other. " You look as though you might. 
 You look like Napoleon, that man always inter 
 ested me. That is why I asked you to come and 
 see me. I have heard you sing, and you are a great 
 artist, an additional reason. All artists should 
 be brothers. Do you not think so ? " 
 
 " Indeed, I know very few good ones," said Nino 
 simply ; " and even among them I would like to 
 choose before claiming relationship personally. 
 But Art is a great mother, and we are all her 
 children." 
 
 " More especially we who began life so poorly, 
 and love Art because she loves us." Benoni seated 
 himself on the arm of one of the old chairs, and 
 looked down across the worm-eaten table at the 
 young singer. " We," he continued, " who have 
 been wretchedly poor know better than others that 
 art is real, true, and enduring ; medicine in sick 
 ness and food in famine ; wings to the feet of youth 
 and a staff for the steps of old age. Do you think
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 171 
 
 I exaggerate, or do you feel as I do ? " He paused 
 for a reply, and poured more wine into his goblet. 
 
 " Oh, you know I feel as you do ! " cried Nino, 
 with rising enthusiasm. 
 
 " Very good ; you are a genuine artist. What 
 you have not felt yet, you will feel hereafter. You 
 have not suffered yet." 
 
 " You do not know about me," said Nino in a 
 low voice. " I am suffering now." 
 
 Benoni smiled. " Do you call that suffering ? 
 Well, it is perhaps very real to you, though I do 
 not know what it is. But art will help you through 
 it all, as it has helped me." 
 
 " What were you ? " asked Nino. " You say you 
 were poor." 
 
 " Yes. I was a shoemaker, and a poor one at 
 that. I have worn out more shoes than I ever 
 made. But I was brought up to it for many years." 
 
 " You did not study music from a child, then ? " 
 
 " No. But I always loved it ; and I used to 
 play in the evenings, when I had been cobbling all 
 day long." 
 
 " And one day you found out you were a great 
 artist and became famous. I see ! What a strange 
 beginning ! " cried Nino. 
 
 " Not exactly that. It took a long time. I was 
 obliged to leave my home, for other reasons, and 
 then I played from door to door, and from town to 
 town, for whatever coppers were thrown to me. I 
 had never heard any good music, and so I played 
 the things that came into my head. By and by
 
 172 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 people would make me stay with them awhile, for 
 my music's sake. But I never stayed long." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " I cannot tell you now," said Benoni, looking 
 grave and almost sad : " it is a very long story. I 
 have traveled a great deal, preferring a life of ad 
 venture. But of late money has grown to be so 
 important a thing that I have given a series of 
 great concerts, and have become rich enough to 
 play for my own pleasure. Besides, though I travel 
 so much, I like society, and I know many people 
 everywhere. To-night, for instance, though I have 
 been in Rome only a week, I have been to a dinner 
 party, to the theatre, to a reception, and to a ball. 
 Everybody invites me as soon as I arrive. I am 
 very popular, and yet I am a Jew," he added, 
 laughing in an odd way. 
 
 " But you are a merry Jew," said Nino, laugh 
 ing too, " besides being a great genius. I do not 
 wonder people invite you." 
 
 " It is better to be merry than sad," replied Be 
 noni. " In the course of a long life I have found 
 out that." 
 
 " You do not look so very old," said Nino. 
 " How old are you ? " 
 
 " That is a rude question," said his host, laugh 
 ing. " But I will improvise a piece of music for 
 you." He took his violin, and stood up before the 
 broken pier-glass. Then he laid the bow over the 
 strings and struck a chord. " What is that ? " he 
 asked, sustaining the sound.
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 173 
 
 "The common chord of A minor," answered 
 Nino immediately. 
 
 " You have a good ear," said Benoni, still play 
 ing the same notes, so that the constant monotony 
 of them buzzed like a vexatious insect in Nino's 
 hearing. Still the old man sawed the bow over the 
 same strings without change. On and on, the 
 same everlasting chord, till Nino thought he must 
 go mad. 
 
 " It is intolerable ; for the love of Heaven stop ! " 
 he cried, pushing back his chair and beginning to 
 pace the room. Benoni only smiled, and went on 
 as unchangingly as ever. Nino could bear it no 
 longer, being very sensitive about sounds, and he 
 made for the door. 
 
 " You cannot get out, I have the key in my 
 pocket," said Benoni, without stopping. 
 
 Then Nino became nearly frantic, and made at 
 the Jew to wrest the instrument from his hands. 
 But Benoni was agile, and eluded him, still playing 
 the one chord, till Nino cried aloud, and sank in a 
 chair, entirely overcome by the torture, that seemed 
 boring its way into his brain like a corkscrew. 
 
 " This," said Benoni, the bow still sawing the 
 strings, " is life without laughter. Now let us laugh 
 a little, and see the effect." 
 
 It was indeed wonderful. With his instrument 
 he imitated the sound of a laughing voice, high 
 tip above the monotonous chord : softly at first, as 
 though far in the distance ; then louder and nearer, 
 the sustaining notes of the minor falling away one
 
 174 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 after the other and losing themselves, as the merri 
 ment gained ground on the sadness ; till finally, 
 with a burst of life and vitality of which it would 
 be impossible to convey any idea, the whole body of 
 mirth broke into a wild tarantella movement, so 
 vivid and elastic and noisy that it seemed to Nino 
 that he saw the very feet of the dancers, and heard 
 the jolly din of the tambourine and the clattering, 
 clappering click of the castanets. 
 
 " That," said Benoni, suddenly stopping, " is life 
 with laughter, be it ever so sad and monotonous be 
 fore. Which do you prefer ? " 
 
 " You are the greatest artist in the world ! " cried 
 Nina enthusiastically ; " but I should have been a 
 raving madman if you had played that chord any 
 longer." 
 
 " Of course," said Benoni, " and I should have 
 gone mad if I had not laughed. Poor Schumann, 
 you know, died insane because he fancied he always 
 heard one note droning in his ears." 
 
 " I can understand that," said Nino. " But it is 
 late, and I must be going home. Forgive my rude 
 ness and reluctance to come with you. I was moody 
 and unhappy. You have given me more pleasure 
 than I can tell you." 
 
 " It will seem little enough to-morrow, I dare 
 say," replied Benoni. " That is the way with pleas 
 ures. But you should get them all the same, when 
 you can, and grasp them as tightly as a drowning 
 man grasps a straw. Pleasures and money, money 
 and pleasures."
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 175 
 
 Nino did not understand the tone in which his 
 host made this last remark. He had learned dif 
 ferent doctrines from me. 
 
 " Why do you speak so selfishly, after showing 
 that you can give pleasure so freely, and telling me 
 that we are all brothers ? " he asked. 
 
 " If you are not in a hurry, I will explain to you 
 that money is the only thing in this world worth 
 having," said Benoni, drinking another cup of the 
 wine, which appeared to have no effect whatever on 
 his brain. 
 
 " Well? " said Nino, curious to hear what he had 
 to say. 
 
 " In the first place you will allow that from the 
 noblest moral standpoint a man's highest aim should 
 be to do good to his fellow creatures ? Yes, you 
 allow that. And to do the greatest possible good 
 to the greatest possible number ? Yes, you allow 
 that, also. Then, I say, other things being alike, a 
 good man will do the greatest possible amount of 
 good in the world when he has the greatest possible 
 amount of money. The more money, the more 
 good ; the less money, the less good. Of course 
 money is only the means to the end, but nothing 
 tangible in the world can ever be anything else. 
 All art is only a means to the exciting of still more 
 perfect images in the brain ; all crime is a means 
 to the satisfaction of passion, or avarice which is 
 itself a king-passion ; all good itself is a means to 
 the attainment of heaven. Everything is bad or 
 good in the world, except art, which is a thing sep-
 
 176 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 arate, though having good and bad results. But 
 the attainment of heaven is the best object to keep 
 in view. To that end, do the most good ; and to 
 do it, get the most money. Therefore, as a means, 
 money is the only thing in the world worth having, 
 since you can most benefit humanity by it, and con 
 sequently be the most sure of going to heaven when 
 you die. Is that clear ? " 
 
 " Perfectly," said Nino, " provided a man is him 
 self good." 
 
 " It is very reprehensible to be bad," said Be- 
 noni, with a smile. 
 
 "What a ridiculous truism! " said Nino, laugh 
 ing outright. 
 
 " Very likely," said the other. " But I never 
 heard any preacher, in any country, tell his con 
 gregation anything else. And people always listen 
 with attention. In countries where rain is entirely 
 unknown, it is not a truism to say that ' when it 
 rains it is damp.' On the contrary, in such coun 
 tries that statement would be regarded as requiring 
 demonstration, and, once demonstrated, it would be 
 treasured and taught as an interesting scientific 
 fact. Now it is precisely the same with congrega 
 tions of men. They were never bad, and never 
 can be ; in fact, they doubt, in their dear innocent 
 hearts, whether they know what a real sin is. Con 
 sequently they listen with interest to the statement 
 that sin is bad, and promise themselves that if ever 
 that piece of information should be unexpectedly 
 needed by any of their friends, they will remem 
 ber it."
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 177 
 
 " You are a satirist, Signer Bononi," said Nino. 
 
 "Anything you like," returned the other. "I 
 have been called worse names than that, in my 
 time. So much for heaven, and the prospect of it. 
 But a gentleman has arisen in a foreign country 
 who says that there is no heaven anywhere, and 
 that no one does good except in the pursuit of 
 pleasure here or hereafter. But as his hereafter is 
 nowhere, disregard it in the argument, . and say 
 that man should only do, or actually does, every 
 thing solely for the sake of pleasure here ; say that 
 pleasure is good, so long as it does not interfere 
 with the pleasures of others, and good is pleasure. 
 Money may help a man to more of it, but pleasure 
 is the thing. Well, then, my young brother artist, 
 what did I say ? ' money and pleasure, pleasure 
 and money.' The means are there ; and as, of 
 course, you are good, like everybody else, and de 
 sire pleasure, you will get to heaven hereafter, if 
 there is such a place ; and if not, you will get the 
 next thing to it, which is a paradise on earth." 
 Having reached the climax, Signer Benoni lit a 
 cigarette, and laughed his own peculiar laugh. 
 
 Nino shuddered involuntarily at the hideous 
 sophistry. For Nino is a good boy,- and believes 
 very much in heaven, as well as in a couple of 
 other places. Benoni' s quick brown eyes saw the 
 movement, and understood it, for he laughed longer 
 yet, and louder. 
 
 " Why do you laugh like that ? I see nothing 
 to laugh at. It is very bitter and bad to hear, all 
 12
 
 178 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 this that you say. I would rather hear your music. 
 You are badly off, whether you believe in heaven 
 or not. For if you do, you are not likely to get 
 there ; and if you do not believe in it, you are a her 
 etic, and will be burned forever and ever." 
 
 " Not so badly answered, for an artist ; and in a 
 few words, too," said Benoni approvingly. " But, 
 my dear boy, the trouble is that I shall not get to 
 heaven either way, for it is my great misfortune to 
 be already condemned to everlasting flames." 
 
 "No one is that," said Nino gravely. 
 
 "There are some exceptions, you know," said 
 Benoni. 
 
 "Well," answered the young man thoughtfully, 
 " of course there is the Wandering Jew, and such 
 tales, but nobody believes in him." 
 
 " Good-night," said Benoni. " I am tired, and 
 must go to bed." 
 
 Nino found his way out alone, but carefully 
 noted the position of the palazzo before he went 
 home through the deserted streets. It was four in 
 the morning.
 
 XI. 
 
 EARLY in the morning after Nino's visit to 
 Signor Benoni, De Pretis came to my house, wring 
 ing his hands and making a great trouble and 
 noise. I had not yet seen Nino, who was sound 
 asleep, though I could not imagine why he did not 
 wake. But De Pretis was in such a temper that 
 he shook the room and everything in it, as he 
 stamped about the brick floor. It was not long 
 before he had told me the cause of his trouble. He 
 had just received a formal note from the Graf von 
 Lira, inclosing the amount due to him for lessons, 
 and dispensing with his services for the future. 
 
 Of course this was the result of the visit Nino 
 had so rashly made ; it all came out afterwards, 
 and I will not now go through the details that De 
 Pretis poured out, when we only half knew the 
 truth. The count's servant who admitted Nino had 
 pocketed the five francs as quietly as you please , 
 and the moment the count returned he told him 
 how Nino had come and had stayed three quarters 
 of an hour, just as if it were an every -day affair. 
 The count, being a proud old man, did not encour 
 age him to make further confidences, but sent him 
 about his business. He determined to make a 
 prisoner of his daughter until he could remove her
 
 180 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 from Rome. He accordingly confined her in the 
 little suite of -apartments that were her own, and 
 set an old soldier, whom he had brought from Ger 
 many as a body-servant, to keep watch at the outer 
 door. He did not condescend to explain even to 
 Hedwig the cause of his conduct, and she, poor 
 girl, was as proud as he, and would not ask why 
 she was shut up, lest the answer should be a storm 
 of abuse against Nino. She cared not at all how 
 her father had found out her secret, so long as he 
 knew it, and she guessed that submission would be 
 the best policy. 
 
 Meanwhile, active preparations were made for 
 an immediate departure. The count informed his 
 friends that he was going to pass Lent in Paris, on 
 account of his daughter's health, which was very 
 poor, and in two days everything was ready. They 
 would leave on the following morning. In the 
 evening the count entered his daughter's apart 
 ments, after causing himself to be formally an 
 nounced by a servant, and briefly informed her 
 that they would start for Paris on the following 
 morning. Her nlaid had been engaged in the mean 
 time in packing her effects, not knowing whither 
 her mistress was going. Hedwig received the an 
 nouncement in silence, but her father saw that she 
 was deadly white and her eyes heavy from Veep- 
 ing. I have anticipated this much to make things 
 clearer. It was on the first morning of Hedwig's 
 confinement that De Pretis came to our house. 
 
 Nino was soon waked by the maestro's noise, and
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 181 
 
 came to the door of his chamber, which opens into 
 the little sitting-room, to inquire what the matter 
 might be. Nino asked if the maestro were ped 
 dling cabbages, that he should scream so loudly. 
 
 " Cabbages, indeed ! cabbage yourself, silly boy! " 
 cried Ercole, shaking his fist at Nino's head, just 
 visible through the crack of the door. " A pretty 
 mess you have made, with your ridiculous love af 
 fair ! Here am I " 
 
 " I see you are," retorted Nino ; " and do not 
 call any affair of mine ridiculous, or I will throw 
 you out of the window. Wait a moment ! " With 
 that he slammed his door in the maestro's face, and 
 went on with his dressing. For a few minutes De 
 Pretis raved at his ease, venting his wrath on me. 
 Then Nino came out. 
 
 "Now, then," said he, preparing for a tussle, 
 " what is the matter, my dear maestro ? " But Er 
 cole had expended most of his fury already. 
 
 " The matter ! " he grumbled. " The matter is 
 that I have lost an excellent pupil through you. 
 Count Lira says he does not require my services 
 any longer, and the man who brought the note says 
 they are going away." 
 
 " Diavolo ! " said Nino, running his fingers 
 through his curly black hair, " it is indeed serious. 
 Where are they going ? " 
 
 " How should I know ? " asked De Pretis an 
 grily. " I care much more about losing the lesson 
 than about where they are going. I shall not fol 
 low them, I promise you. I cannot take the basil-
 
 182 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 ica of St. Peter about with me in my pocket, 
 can I ? " 
 
 And so he was angry at first, and at length he 
 was pacified, and finally he advised Nino to dis 
 cover immediately where the count and his daughter 
 were going ; and, if it were to any great capital, to 
 endeavor to make a contract to sing there. Lent 
 came early that year, and Nino was free at the end 
 of Carnival, not many days longer to wait. This 
 was the plan that had instantly formed itself in 
 Nino's brain. De Pretis is really a most obliging 
 man, but one cannot wonder that he should be an 
 noyed at the result of Nino's four months' court 
 ship under such great difficulties, when it seemed 
 that all their efforts had led only to the sudden de 
 parture of his lady-love. As for me, I advised 
 Nino to let the whole matter drop then and there. 
 I told him he would soon get over his foolish pas 
 sion, and that a statue like Hedwig could never 
 suffer anything, since she could never feel. But he 
 glared at me, and did as he liked, just as he always 
 has done. 
 
 The message on the handkerchief that Nino had 
 received the night before warned him to keep away 
 from the Palazzo Carmandola. Nino reflected that 
 this warning was probably due to Hedwig's anxiety 
 for his personal safety, and he resolved to risk any 
 thing rather than remain in ignorance of her desti 
 nation. It must be a case of giving some signal. 
 But this evening he had to sing at the theatre, and 
 therefore, without more ado, he left us and went to
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 183 
 
 bed again, where he stayed until twelve o'clock. 
 Then he went to rehearsal, arriving an hour behind 
 time, at least, a matter which he treated with the 
 coolest indifference. After that he got a pound of 
 small shot, and amused himself with throwing a 
 few at a time at the kitchen window from the little 
 court at the back of our house, where the well is. 
 It seemed a strangely childish amusement for a 
 great singer. 
 
 Having sung successfully through his opera that 
 night, he had supper with us, as usual, and then 
 went out. Of course he told me afterwards what 
 he did. He went to his old post under the windows 
 of the Palazzo Carmandola, and as soon as all was 
 dark he began to throw small shot up at Hedwig's 
 window. He now profited by his practice in the 
 afternoon, for he made the panes rattle with the 
 little bits of lead, several times. At last he was 
 rewarded. Very slowly the window opened, and 
 Hedwig's voice spoke in a low tone : 
 
 "Is it you?" 
 
 " Ah, dear one ! Can you ask ? " began Nino. 
 
 " Hush ! I am still locked up. We are going 
 away, I cannot tell where." 
 
 " When, dearest love ? " 
 
 " I cannot tell. What shall we do ? " very tear- 
 fully. 
 
 " I will follow you immediately ; only let me 
 know when and where." 
 
 " If you do not hear by some other means, come 
 here to-morrow night. I hear steps. Go at once."
 
 184 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 " Good-night, dearest," he murmured ; but the 
 window was already closed, and the fresh breeze 
 that springs up after one o'clock blew from the air 
 the remembrance of the loving speech that had 
 passed upon it. 
 
 On the following night he was at his post, and 
 again threw the shot against the pane for a signal. 
 After a long time Hedwig opened the window very 
 cautiously. 
 
 " Quick ! " she whispered down to him, " go ! 
 they are all awake," and she dropped something 
 heavy and white. Perhaps she added some word, 
 but Nino would not tell me, and never would read 
 me the letter. But it contained the news that 
 Hedwig and her father were to leave Rome for 
 Paris on the following morning ; and ever since 
 that night Nino has worn upon his little finger a 
 plain gold ring, I cannot tell why, and he says 
 he found it. 
 
 The next day he ascertained from the porter of 
 the Palazzo Carmandola that the count and contes- 
 sina, with their servants, had actually left Rome 
 that morning for Paris. From that moment he 
 was sad as death, and went about his business heav 
 ily, being possessed of but one idea, namely, to sign 
 an engagement to sing in Paris as soon as possible. 
 In that wicked city the opera continues through 
 Lent, and after some haggling, in which De Pretis 
 insisted on obtaining for Nino the most advan 
 tageous terms, the contract was made out and 
 signed.
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 185 
 
 I see very well that unless I hurry myself I shall 
 never reach the most important part of this story, 
 which is, after all, the only part worth telling. I 
 am sure I do not know how I can ever tell it so 
 quickly, but I will do my best, and you must have 
 a little patience ; for though I am not old, I am not 
 young, and Nino's departure for Paris was a great 
 shock to me, so that I do not like to remember it, 
 and the very thought of it sickens me. If you have 
 ever had any education, you must have seen an ex 
 periment in which a mouse is put in a glass jar, and 
 all the air is drawn away with a pump, so that the 
 poor little beast languishes and rolls pitifully on its 
 side, gasping and wheezing with its tiny lungs for 
 the least whiff of air. That is just how I felt when 
 Nino went away. It seemed as though I could not 
 breathe in the house or in the streets, and the little 
 rooms at home were so quiet that one might hear a 
 pin fall, and the cat purring through the closed 
 doors. Nino left at the beginning of the last ten 
 days of Carnival, when the opera closed, so that it 
 was soon Lent ; and everything is quieter then. 
 
 But before he left us there was noise enough and 
 bustle of preparation, and I did not think I should 
 miss him ; for he always was making music, or 
 walking about, or doing something to disturb me, 
 just at the very moment when I was most busy with 
 my books. Mariuccia, indeed, would ask me from 
 time to time what I should do when Nino was gone, 
 as if she could foretell what I was to feel. I sup 
 pose she knew I was used to him, after fourteen
 
 186 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 years of it, and would be inclined to black humors 
 for want of his voice. But she could not know just 
 what Nino is to me, nor how I look on him as my 
 own boy. These peasants are quick-witted and 
 foolish ; they guess a great many things better 
 than I could, and then reason on them like idiots. 
 
 Nino himself was glad to go. I could see his face 
 grow brighter as the time approached ; and though 
 he appeared to be more successful than ever in his 
 singing, I am sure that he cared nothing for the ap 
 plause he got, and thought only of singing as well 
 as he could for the love of it. But when it came 
 to the parting we were left alone. 
 
 " Messer Cornelio," he said, looking at me affec 
 tionately, " I have something to say to you to-night, 
 before I go away." 
 
 " Speak, then, my dear boy," I answered, " for 
 no one hears us." 
 
 " You have been very good to me. A father 
 could not have loved me better, and such a father as 
 I had could not have done a thousandth part what 
 you have done for me. I am going out into the 
 world for a time, but my home is here, or, rather, 
 where my home is will always be yours. You 
 have been my father, and I will be your son ; and 
 it is time you should give up your professorship. 
 No, not that you are at all old ; I do not mean 
 that." 
 
 "No, indeed," said I, " I should think not." 
 
 " It would be much more proper if you retired 
 into an elegant leisure, so that you might write as
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 187 
 
 many books as you desire, without wearing yourself 
 out in teaching those students every day. Would 
 you not like to go back to Serveti ? " 
 
 " Serveti ! ah, beautiful, lost Serveti, with its 
 castle and good vinelands ! " 
 
 "You shall have it again before long, my fa 
 ther," he said. He had never called me father be 
 fore, the dear boy ! I suppose it was because he 
 was going away. But Serveti again ! The thing 
 was impossible, and I said so. 
 
 " It is not impossible," he answered placidly. 
 " Successful singers make enough money in a year 
 to buy Serveti. A year is soon passed. But now 
 let us go to the station, or I shall not be in time for 
 the train." 
 
 " God bless you, Nino mio," I said, as I saw him 
 off. It seemed to me that I saw two or three Ni- 
 nos. ^ But the train rolled away and took them all 
 from me, the ragged little child who first came 
 to me, the strong-limbed, dark-eyed boy with his 
 scales and trills and enthusiasm, and the full- 
 grown man with the face like the great emperor, 
 mightily triumphing in his art and daring in his 
 love. They were all gone in a moment, and I was 
 left alone on the platform of the station, a very sor 
 rowful and weak old man. Well, I will not think 
 about that day. 
 
 The first I heard of Nino was by a letter he 
 wrote from Paris, a fortnight after he had left me. 
 It was characteristic of him, being full of eager 
 questions about home and De Pretis and Mariuccia
 
 188 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 and Rome. Two things struck me in his writing. 
 In the first place, he made no mention of the count 
 or Hedwig, which led me to suppose that he was 
 recovering from his passion, as boys do when they 
 travel. And secondly, he had so much to say about 
 me that he forgot all about his engagement, and 
 never even mentioned the theatre. On looking 
 
 o 
 
 carefully through the letter again, I found he had 
 written across the top the words " Eehearsals sat 
 isfactory." That was all. 
 
 It was not long after the letter came, however, 
 that I was very much frightened by receiving a tel 
 egram, which must have cost several francs to send 
 all that distance. By this he told me that he had 
 no clue to the whereabouts of the Liras, and he im 
 plored me to make inquiries and discover where 
 they had gone. He added that he had appeared in 
 Faust successfully. Of course he would succeed. 
 If a singer can please the Romans, he can please 
 anybody. But it seemed to me that if he had re 
 ceived a very especially flattering reception he would 
 have said so. I went to see De Pretis, whom I 
 found at home over his dinner. We put our heads 
 together and debated how we might discover the 
 Paris address of the Graf von Lira. In a great 
 city like tliat it was no wonder Nino could not find 
 them ; but De Pretis hoped that some of his pupils 
 might be in correspondence with the contessina, and 
 would be willing to give the requisite directions for 
 reaching her. But days passed, and a letter came 
 from Nino written immediately after sending the
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 189 
 
 telegram, and still we had accomplished nothing. 
 The letter merely amplified the telegraphic mes 
 sage. 
 
 " It is no use," I said to De Pretis. " And be 
 sides, it is much better that he should forget all 
 about it." 
 
 " You do not know that boy," said the maestro, 
 taking snuff. He was quite right, as it turned out. 
 
 Suddenly Nino wrote from London. He had 
 made an arrangement, he said, by which he was 
 allowed to sing there for three nights only. The 
 two managers had settled it between them, being 
 friends. He wrote very despondently, saying that 
 although he had been far more fortunate in his ap 
 pearances than he had expected, he was in despair 
 at not having found the contessina, and had ac 
 cepted the Arrangement which took him to London 
 because he had hopes of finding her there. On the 
 day which brought me this letter I had a visitor. 
 Nino had been gone nearly a month. It was in the 
 afternoon, towards sunset, and I was sitting in the 
 old green armchair watching the goldfinch in his 
 cage, and thinking sadly of the poor dear baroness, 
 and of my boy, and of many things. The bell 
 rang, and Mariuccia brought me a card in her thick 
 fingers which were black from peeling potatoes, so 
 that the mark of her thumb came off on the white 
 pasteboard. The name on the card was ^ Baron 
 Ahasuerus Benoni," and there was no address. I 
 told her to show the signore into the sitting-room, 
 and he was not long in coming. I immediately
 
 190 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 recognized the man Nino had described, with his 
 unearthly freshness of complexion, his eagle nose, 
 and his snow-white hair. I rose to greet him. 
 
 " Signer Grandi," he said, " I trust you will par 
 don my intrusion. I am much interested in your 
 boy, the great tenor." 
 
 " Sir," I replied, " the visit of a gentleman is 
 never an intrusion. Permit me to offer you a 
 chair." He sat down, and crossed one thin leg 
 over the other. He was dressed in the height of 
 the fashion ; he wore patent-leather shoes, and car 
 ried a light ebony cane with a silver head. His 
 hat was perfectly new, and so smoothly brushed 
 that it reflected a circular image of the objects in 
 the room. But he had a certain dignity that saved 
 his foppery from seeming ridiculous. 
 
 " You are very kind," he answered. " Perhaps 
 you would like to hear some news of Signer Car- 
 degna, your boy, for he is nothing else." 
 
 " Indeed," I said, " I should be very glad. Has 
 he written to you, baron ? " 
 
 " Oh, no ! "We are not intimate enough for that. 
 But I ran on to Paris the other day, and heard him 
 three or four times, and had him to supper at Big- 
 non's. He is a great genius, your boy, and has 
 won all hearts." 
 
 " That is a compliment of weight from so distin 
 guished a musician as yourself," I answered ; for, 
 as you know, Nino had told me all about his play 
 ing. Indeed, the description was his, which is the 
 reason why it is so enthusiastic.
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 191 
 
 " Yes," said Benoni, " I am a great traveler, and 
 often go to Paris for a day or two. I know every 
 one there. Cardegna had a perfect ovation. All 
 the women sent him flowers, and all the men asked 
 him to dinner." 
 
 " Pardon my curiosity," I interrupted, " but as 
 you know every one in Paris, could you inform me 
 whether Count von Lira and his daughter are there 
 at present ? He is a retired Prussian officer." Be- 
 noni stretched out one of his long arms and ran his 
 fingers along the keys of the piano without striking 
 them. He could just reach so far from where he 
 sat. He gave no sign of intelligence, and I felt 
 sure that Nino had not questioned him. 
 
 " I know them very well," he said presently, 
 " but I thought they were here." 
 
 " No, they left suddenly for Paris, a month ago." 
 
 "'I can very easily find out for you," said Be 
 noni, his bright eyes turning on me with a search 
 ing look. " I can find out from Lira's banker, 
 who is probably also mine. What is the matter 
 with that young man? He is as sad as Don 
 Quixote." 
 
 " Nino ? He is probably in love," I said, rather 
 indiscreetly. 
 
 " In love ? Then of course he is in love with 
 Mademoiselle de Lira, and has gone to Paris to 
 find her, and cannot. That is why you ask me." I 
 was so much astonished at the quickness of his 
 guess-work that I stared, open-mouthed. 
 
 " He must have told you ! " I exclaimed at last.
 
 192 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 " Nothing of the kind. In the course of a long 
 life I have learned to put two and two together, 
 that is all. He is in love, he is your boy, and you 
 are looking for a certain young lady. It is as clear 
 as day." But in reality he had guessed the secret 
 long before. 
 
 " Very well," said I humbly, but doubting him, 
 all the same, " I can only admire your perspicacity. 
 But I would be greatly obliged if you would find 
 out where they are, those good people. You seem 
 to be a friend of my boy's, baron. Help him, and 
 he will be grateful to you. It is not such a very 
 terrible thing that a great artist should love a no 
 ble's daughter, after all, though I used to think so." 
 Benoni laughed, that strange laugh which Nino had 
 described, a laugh that seemed to belong to an 
 other age. 
 
 " You amuse me with your prejudices about no 
 bility," he said, and his brown eyes flashed and 
 twinkled again. " The idea of talking about no 
 bility in this age ! You might as well talk of the 
 domestic economy of the Garden of Eden." 
 
 " But you are yourself a noble a baron," I 
 objected. 
 
 " Oh, I am anything you please," said Benoni. 
 " Some idiot made a baron of me, the other day, 
 because I lent him money and he could not pay 
 it. But I have some right to it, after all, for I am 
 a Jew. The only real nobles are Welshmen and 
 Jews. You cannot call anything so ridiculously 
 recent as the European upper classes a nobility.
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 193 
 
 Now I go straight back to the creation of the world, 
 like all my countrymen. The Hibernians get a 
 factitious reputation for antiquity by saying that 
 Eve married an Irishman after Adam died, and 
 that is about as much claim as your European no 
 bles have to respectability. Bah ! I know their be 
 ginnings, very small indeed." 
 
 " You, also, seem to have strong prejudices on 
 the subject," said I, not wishing to contradict a 
 guest in my house. 
 
 " So strong that it amounts to having no preju 
 dices at all. Your boy wants to marry a noble 
 damosel. In Heaven's name, let him do it. Let 
 us manage it amongst us. Love is a grand thing. 
 I have loved several women all their lives. Do not 
 look surprised. I am a very old man ; they have 
 all died, and at present I am not in love with any 
 body. I suppose it cannot last long, however. I 
 loved a woman once on a time " Benoni paused. 
 He seemed to be on the verge of a soliloquy, and 
 his strange, bright face, which seemed illuminated 
 always with a deathless vitality, became dreamy 
 and looked older. But he recollected himself, and 
 rose to go. His eye caught sight of the guitar 
 that hung on the wall. 
 
 "Ah," he cried suddenly, "music is better than 
 love, for it lasts ; let us make music." He dropped 
 his hat and stick and seized the instrument. In an 
 instant it was tuned, and he began to perform the 
 most extraordinary feats of agility with his fingers 
 that I ever beheld. Some of it was very beautiful, 
 
 13
 
 194 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 and some of it very sad and wild, but I understood 
 Nino's enthusiasm. I could have listened to the 
 old guitar in his hands for hours together, I, 
 who care little for music ; and I watched his face. 
 He stalked about the room with the thing in his 
 hands, in a sort of wild frenzy of execution. His 
 features grew ashy pale, and his smooth white hair 
 stood out wildly from his head. He looked, then, 
 more than a hundred years old, and there was a 
 sadness and a horror about him that would have 
 made the stones cry aloud for pity. I could not 
 believe he was the same man. At last he was tired, 
 and stopped. 
 
 " You are a great artist, baron," I said. " Your 
 music seems to affect you much." 
 
 " Ah, yes, it makes me feel like other men, for 
 the time," said he, in a low voice. " Did you know 
 that Paganini always practiced on the guitar ? It 
 is true. Well, I will find out about the Liras for 
 you in a day or two, before I leave Rome again." 
 
 I thanked him, and he took his leave. 

 
 XII. 
 
 BENONT had made an impression on me that 
 nothing could efface. His tall, thin figure and 
 bright eyes got into my dreams and haunted me, 
 so that I thought my nerves were affected. For 
 several days I could think of nothing else, and at 
 last had myself bled, and took some cooling barley 
 water, and gave up eating salad at night, but with 
 out any perceptible effect. 
 
 Nino wrote often, and seemed very much excited 
 about the disappearance of the contessina, but what 
 could I do ? I asked every one I knew, and nobody 
 had heard of them, so that at last I quite gave it 
 over, and wrote to tell him so. A week passed, 
 then a fortnight, and I had heard nothing from 
 Benoni. Nino wrote again, inclosing a letter ad 
 dressed to the Contessina di Lira, which he im 
 plored me to convey to her, if I loved him. He 
 said he was certain that she had never left Italy. 
 Some instinct seemed to tell him so, and she was 
 evidently in neither London nor Paris, for he had 
 made every inquiry, and had even been to the police 
 about it. Two days after this, Benoni came. He 
 looked exactly as he did the first time I saw him. 
 
 " I have news," he said briefly, and sat down in 
 the armchair, striking the dust from his boot with 
 his little cane.
 
 196 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 " News of the Graf ? " I inquired. 
 
 " Yes. I have found out something. They never 
 left Italy at all, it seems. I am rather mystified, 
 and I hate mystification. The old man is a fool ; 
 all old men are fools, excepting myself. Will you 
 smoke? No? Allow me, then. It is a modern 
 invention, but a very good one." He lit a cigarette. 
 " I wish your Liras were in Tophet," he continued, 
 presently. " How can people have the bad taste to 
 hide ? It only makes ingenious persons the more 
 determined to find them." Pie seemed talkative, 
 and as I was so sad and lonely I encouraged him 
 by a little stimulus of doubt. I wish I had doubted 
 him sooner, and differently. 
 
 " What is the use ? " I asked. " We shall never 
 find them." 
 
 " ' Never ' is a great word," said Benoni. " You 
 do not know what it means. I do. But as for 
 finding them, you shall see. In the first place, I 
 have talked with their banker. He says the count 
 gave the strictest orders to have his address kept a 
 secret. But, being one of my people, he allowed 
 himself to make an accidental allusion which gave 
 me a clue to what I wanted. They are hidden 
 somewhere in the mountains." 
 
 " Diavolo ! among the brigands, they will not be 
 very well treated," said I. 
 
 "The old man will be careful. He will keep 
 clear of danger. The only thing is to find them." 
 
 " And what then ? " I asked. 
 
 "That depends on the most illustrious Signor
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 197 
 
 Cardegna," said Benoni, smiling. " He only asked 
 you to find them. He probably did not anticipate 
 that I would help you." 
 
 It did not appear to me that Benoni had helped 
 me much, after all. You might as well look for a 
 needle in a haystack as try to find any one who goes 
 to the Italian mountains. The baron offered no 
 further advice, and sat calmly smoking and look 
 ing at me. I felt uneasy, opposite him. He was a 
 mysterious person, and I thought him disguised. It 
 was really not possible that with his youthful man 
 ner his hair should be naturally so white, or that 
 he should be so old as he seemed. I asked him the 
 question we always find it interesting to ask for 
 eigners, hoping to lead him into conversation. 
 
 "How do you like our Rome, Baron Benoni? " 
 
 " Rome ? I loathe and detest it," he said, with 
 a smile. "There is only one place in the whole 
 world that I hate more." 
 
 " What place is that ? " I asked, remembering 
 that he had made the same remark to Nino before. 
 
 "Jerusalem," he answered, and the smile faded 
 on his face. I thought I guessed the reason of his 
 dislike in his religious views. But I am very liberal 
 about those things. 
 
 "I think I understand you," I said ; " you are a 
 Hebrew, and the prevailing form of religion is dis 
 agreeable to you." 
 
 " No, it is not exactly that, and yet, perhaps it 
 is." He seemed to be pondering on the reason of 
 his dislike.
 
 198 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 " But why do you visit these places, if they do 
 not please you ? " 
 
 " I come here because I have so many agreeable 
 acquaintances. I never go to Jerusalem. I also 
 come here from time to time to take a bath. The 
 water of the Trevi has a peculiarly rejuvenating 
 effect upon me, and something impels me to bathe 
 in it." 
 
 " Do you mean in the fountain ? Ah, foreigners 
 say that if you drink the water by moonlight you 
 will return to Rome." 
 
 "Foreigners are all weak-minded fools. I like 
 that word. The human race ought to be called 
 fools generically, as distinguished from the more 
 intelligent animals. If you went to England, you 
 would be as great a fool as any Englishman that 
 comes here and drinks Trevi water by moonlight. 
 But I assure you I do nothing so vulgar as to pat 
 ronize the fountain, any more than I would pat 
 ronize Mazzarino's church, hard by. I go to the 
 source, the spring, the well where it rises." 
 
 "Ah, I know the place well," I said. "It is 
 near to Serveti." 
 
 " Serveti ? Is not that in the vicinity of Horace's 
 villa?" 
 
 " You know the country well, I see," said I, sadly. 
 
 " I know most things," answered the Jew, with 
 complacency. " You would find it hard to hit upon 
 anything I do not know. Yes, I am a vain man, it 
 is true, but I am very frank and open about it. 
 Look at my complexion. Did you ever see any-
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 199 
 
 tiling like it ? It is Trevi water that does it." I 
 thought such excessive vanity very unbecoming in 
 a man of his years, but I could not help looking 
 amused. It was so odd to hear the old fellow des 
 canting on his attractions. He actually took a 
 small mirror from his pocket, and looked at himself 
 in most evident admiration. 
 
 " I really believe," he said at length, pocketing 
 the little looking-glass, " that a woman might love 
 me still. What do you say ? " 
 
 " Doubtless," I answered politely, although I was 
 beginning to be annoyed, " a woman might love 
 you at first sight. But it would be more dignified 
 for you not to love her." 
 
 " Dignity ! " He laughed long and loud, a cut 
 ting laugh, like the breaking of glass. " There is 
 another of your phrases. Excuse my amusement, 
 Signer Grandi, but the idea of dignity always 
 makes me smile." He called that thing a smile ! 
 " It is in everybody's mouth, the dignity of the 
 state, the dignity of the king, the dignity of woman, 
 the dignity of father, mother, schoolmaster, soldier. 
 Psh ! an apoplexy, as you say, 011 all the dignities 
 you can enumerate. There is more dignity in a 
 poor, patient ass toiling along a rough road under 
 a brutal burden than in the entire human race put 
 together, from Adam to myself. The conception of 
 dignity is notional, most entirely. I never see a 
 poor wretch of a general, or king, or any such 
 animal, adorned in his toggery of dignity, without 
 laughing at him, and his dignity again leads him to
 
 200 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 suppose that my smile is the result of the pleasur 
 able sensations his appearance excites in me. Na 
 ture has dignity at times ; some animals have it ; 
 but man, never. What man mistakes for it in him 
 self is his vanity, a vanity much more pernicious 
 than mine, because it deceives its possessor, who is 
 also wholly possessed by it, and is its slave. I have 
 had many illusions in my life, Signor Grandi." 
 " One would say, baron, that you had parted 
 
 them." 
 
 ^ Yes, and that is my chief vanity, the vanity 
 of vanities which I prefer to all the others. It is 
 only a man of no imagination who has no vanity. 
 He cannot imagine himself any better than he is. 
 A creative genius makes for his own person a ' self ' 
 which he thinks he is, or desires other people to be 
 lieve him to be. It makes little difference whether 
 he succeeds or not, so long as he flatters himself he 
 does. He complacently takes all his images from 
 the other animals, or from natural objects and phe 
 nomena, depicting himself bold as an eagle, brave 
 as a lion, strong as an ox, patient as an ass, vain as 
 a popinjay, talkative as a parrot, wily as a serpent, 
 gentle as a dove, cunning as a fox, surly as a bear ; 
 his glance is lightning, his voice thunder, his heart 
 stone, his hands are iron, his conscience a hell, 
 his sinews of steel, and his love like fire. In short, 
 he is like anything alive or dead, except a man, 
 saving when he is mad. Then he is a fool. Only 
 man can be a fool. It distinguishes him from the 
 higher animals." <
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 201 
 
 I cannot describe the unutterable scorn that 
 blazed in his eyes as Benoni poured out the vials 
 of his wrath on the unlucky human race. With 
 my views, we were not likely to agree in this matter. 
 
 " Who are you ? " I asked. " What right can 
 you possibly have to abuse us all in such particular 
 ly strong terms ? Do you ever make proselytes to 
 your philosophy ? " 
 
 " No," said he, answering my last question, and 
 recovering his serenity with that strange quickness 
 of transition I had remarked when he had made 
 music during his previous visit. " No, they all die 
 before I have taught them anything." . 
 
 " That does not surprise me, baron," said I. He 
 laughed a little. 
 
 " Well, perhaps it would surprise you even less 
 if you knew me better," he replied. " But really, I 
 came here to talk about Cardegna, and not to chat 
 ter about that contemptible creature, man, who is 
 not worth a moment's notice, I assure you. I be 
 lieve I can find these people, and I confess it would 
 amuse me to see the old man's face when we walk 
 in upon him. I must be absent for a few days on 
 business in Austria, and shall return immediately, 
 for I have not taken my bath yet, that I spoke of. 
 Now, if it is agreeable to you, I would propose that 
 we go to the hills, on my return, and prosecute our 
 search together ; writing to Nino in the mean time 
 to come here as soon as he has finished his engage 
 ment in Paris. If he comes quickly, he may go 
 with us ; if not, he can join us. At all events, we
 
 202 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 can have a very enjoyable tour among the natives, 
 who are charming people, quite like animals, as you 
 ought to know." 
 
 I think I must be a very suspicious person. Cir 
 cumstances have made me so, and perhaps my sus 
 picions are very generally wrong. It may be. At 
 all events, I did suspect the rich and dandified old 
 baron of desiring to have a laugh by putting Nino 
 into some absurd situation. He had such strange 
 views, or, at least, he talked so oddly, that I did 
 not believe half he said. It is not possible that 
 anybody should seriously hold the opinions he pro 
 fessed. 
 
 
 When he was gone I sat alone, pondering on the 
 situation, which was like a very difficult problem 
 in a nightmare, that could not or would not look 
 sensible, do what I.would. It chanced that I got a 
 letter from Nino that evening, and I confess I was 
 reluctant to open it, fearing that he would reproach 
 me with not having taken more pains to help him. 
 I felt as though, before opening the envelope, I 
 should like to go back a fortnight and put forth all 
 my strength to find the contessina, and gain a com 
 forting sense of duty performed. If I had only done 
 my best, how easy it would have been to face a 
 whole sheet of complaints ! Meanwhile the letter 
 was come, and I had done nothing worth mention 
 ing. I looked at the back of it, and my conscience 
 smote me ; but it had to be accomplished, and at 
 last I tore the cover off and read. 
 
 Poor Nino ! He said he was ill with anxiety, and
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 203 
 
 feared it would injure his voice. He said that 
 to break his engagement and come back to Rome 
 would be ruin to him. He must face it out, or take 
 the legal consequences of a breach of contract, which 
 are overwhelming to a young artist. He detailed 
 all the efforts Be had made to find Hedwig, pursu 
 ing every little sign and clue that seemed to present 
 itself ; all to no purpose. The longer he thought of 
 it, the more certain he was that Hedwig was not in 
 Paris or London. She might be anywhere else in 
 the whole world, but she was certainly not in either 
 of those cities. Of that he was convinced. He felt 
 like a man who had pursued a beautiful image to 
 the foot of a precipitous cliff ; the rock had opened 
 and swallowed up his dream, leaving him standing 
 alone in hopeless despair ; and a great deal more 
 poetic nonsense of that kind. 
 
 I do not believe I had ever realized what he so 
 truly felt for Hedwig, until I sat at my table with 
 his letter before me, overcome with the sense of my 
 own weakness in not having effectually checked 
 this mad passion at its rise ; or, since it had grown 
 so masterfully, of my wretched procrastination in 
 not having taken my staff in my hand and gone 
 out into the world to find the woman my boy loved 
 and bring her to him. By this time, I thought, I 
 should have found her. I could not bear to think 
 of his being ill, suffering, heart-broken, ruined, 
 if he lost his voice by an illness, merely because 
 I had not had the strength to do the best thing for 
 him. Poor Nino, I thought, you shall never say
 
 204 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 again that Cornelio Grand! has not done what was 
 in his power to make you happy. 
 
 " That baron ! an apoplexy on him ! has illuded 
 me with his promises of help," I said to myself. 
 " He has no more intention of helping me or Nino 
 than he has of carrying off the basilica of St. Peter. 
 Courage, Cornelio ! thou must gird up thy loins, 
 and take a little money in thy scrip, and find Hed- 
 wig von Lira." 
 
 All that night I lay awake, trying to think how 
 I might accomplish this end ; wondering to which 
 point of the compass I should turn, and above all 
 reflecting that I must make great sacrifices. But 
 my boy must have what he wanted, since he was 
 consuming himself, as we say, in longing for it. It 
 seemed to me no time for counting the cost, when 
 every day might bring upon him a serious illness. 
 If he could only know that I was acting, he would 
 allow his spirits to revive and take courage. 
 
 In the watches of the night I thought over my 
 resources, which, indeed, were meagre enough ; for 
 I am a very poor man. It was necessary to take 
 a great deal of money, for once away from Rome 
 no one could tell when I might return. My salary 
 as professor is paid to me quarterly, and it was yet 
 some weeks to the time when it was due. I had 
 only a few francs remaining, not more than 
 enough to pay my rent and to feed Mariuccia and 
 me. I had paid at Christmas the last installment 
 due on my vineyard out of Porta Salara, and 
 though I owed no man anything I had no money,
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 205 
 
 and no prospect of any for some time. And yet I 
 could not leave home on a long journey without at 
 least two hundred scudi in my pocket. A scudo 
 is a dollar, and a dollar has five francs, so that I 
 wanted a thousand francs. You see, in spite of 
 the baron's hint about the mountains, I thought I 
 might have to travel all over Italy before I satis 
 fied Nino. 
 
 A thousand francs is a great deal of money, it 
 is a Peru, as we say. I had not the first sou to 
 ward it. I thought a long time. I wondered if 
 the old piano were worth anything ; whether any 
 body would give me money for my manuscripts, the 
 results of patient years of labor and study ; my old 
 gold scarf-pin, my seal ring, and even my silver 
 watch, which keeps really very good time, what 
 were they worth ? But it would not be much, not 
 the tenth part of what I wanted. I was in de 
 spair, and I tried to sleep. Then a thought came 
 to me. 
 
 "I am a donkey," I said. " There is the vine 
 yard itself, my little vineyard beyond Porta Sa- 
 lara. It is mine, and is worth half as much again 
 as I need." And I slept quietly till morning. 
 
 It is true, and I am sure it is natural, that in the 
 daylight my resolution looked a little differently to 
 me than it did in the quiet night. I had toiled and 
 scraped a great deal more than you know to buy 
 that small piece of land, and it seemed much more 
 my own than all Serveti had ever been in my better 
 days. Then I shut myself up in my room and read
 
 206 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 Nino's letter over again, though it pained me very 
 much ; for I needed courage. And when I had 
 read it, I took some papers in my pocket, and put 
 on my hat and my old cloak, which Nino will never 
 want any more now for his midnight serenades, and 
 I went out to sell my little vineyard. 
 
 " It is for my boy," I said, to give myself some 
 comfort. 
 
 But it is one thing to want to buy, and it is quite 
 another thing to want to sell. All day I went from 
 one man to another with my papers, all the 
 agents who deal in those things ; but they only said 
 they thought it might be sold in time ; it would 
 take many days, and perhaps weeks. 
 
 " But I want to sell it to-day," I explained. 
 
 " We are very sorry," said they, with a shrug of 
 the shoulders ; and they showed me the door. 
 
 I was extremely down-hearted, and though I 
 could not sell my piece of land I spent three sous 
 in buying two cigars to smoke, and I walked about 
 the Piazza Colonna in the sun ; I would not go 
 home to dinner until I had decided what to do. 
 There was only one man I had not tried, and he 
 was the man who had sold it to me. Of course I 
 knew people who do this business, for I had had 
 enough trouble to learn their ways when I had to 
 sell Serveti, years ago. But this one man I had 
 not tried yet, because I knew that he would drive a 
 cruel bargain with me when he saw I wanted the 
 
 o 
 
 money. But at last I went to him, and told him 
 just what my wishes were.
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 207 
 
 " Well," he said, " it is a very bad time for sell 
 ing land. But to oblige you, because you are a 
 customer, I will give you eight hundred francs for 
 your little place. That is really much more than I 
 can afford." 
 
 " Eight hundred francs ! " I exclaimed in de 
 spair. " But I have paid you nearly twice as much 
 for it in the last three years ! What do you take 
 me for ? To sell such a gem of a vineyard for 
 eight hundred francs ! If you offer me thirteen 
 hundred I will discuss the matter with you." 
 
 " I have known you a long time, Signor Grandi, 
 and you are an honest man. I am sure you do not 
 wish to deceive me. I will give you eight hundred 
 and fifty." 
 
 Deceive him, indeed ! The very man who had 
 received fifteen hundred from me said I deceived 
 him when I asked thirteen hundred for the same 
 piece of land ! But I needed it very much, and so, 
 bargaining and wrangling, I got one thousand and 
 seventy-five francs in bank-notes ; and I took care 
 they should all be good ones, too. It was a poor 
 price, I know, but I could do no better, and I went 
 home happy. But I dared not tell Mariuccia. She 
 is only my servant, to be sure, but she would have 
 torn me in pieces. 
 
 Then I wrote to the authorities at the university 
 to say that I was obliged to leave Rome suddenly, 
 and would of course not claim my salary during 
 my absence. But I added that I hoped they would 
 not permanently supplant me. If they did, I knew
 
 208 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 I should be ruined. Then I told Mariuccia that I 
 was going away for some days to the country, and 
 I left her the money to pay the rent, and her wages, 
 and a little more, so that she might be provided for 
 if I were detained very long. I went out again and 
 telegraphed to Nino, to say I was going at once in 
 search of the Liras, and begging him to come 
 home as soon as he should have finished his en 
 gagement. 
 
 To tell the truth, Mariuccia was very curious to 
 know where I was going, and asked me many ques 
 tions, which I had some trouble in answering. But 
 at last it was night again, and the old woman went 
 to bed and left me. Then I went on tiptoe to the 
 kitchen, and found a skein of thread and two 
 needles, and set to work. 
 
 I knew the country whither I was going very 
 well, and it was necessary to hide the money I had 
 in some ingenious way. So I took two waistcoats, 
 one of them was quite good still, and I sewed 
 them together, and basted the bank-notes between 
 them. It was a clumsy piece of tailoring, though 
 it took me so many hours to do it. But I had put 
 the larger waistcoat outside very cunningly, so that 
 when I had put on the two, you could not see that 
 there was anything beneath the outer one. I think 
 I was very clever to do this without a woman to 
 help me. Then I looked to my boots, and chose 
 my oldest clothes, and you may guess, from what 
 you know of me, how old they were, and T made 
 a little bundle that I could carry in my hand, with
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 209 
 
 a change of linen, and the like. These things I 
 made ready before I went to bed, and I slept with 
 the two waistcoats and the thousand francs under 
 my pillow, though I suppose nobody would have 
 chosen that particular night for robbing me. 
 
 All these preparations had occupied me so much 
 that I had not found any time to grieve over my 
 poor little vineyard that I had sold ; and besides, I 
 was thinking all the while of Nino, and how glad 
 he would be to know that I was really searching for 
 Hedwig. But when I thought of the vines, it hurt 
 me ; and I think it is only long after the deed that 
 it seems more blessed to give than to receive. 
 
 But at last I slept, as tired folk will, leaving care 
 to the morrow ; and when I awoke it was daybreak, 
 and Mariuccia was clattering angrily with the tin 
 coffee-pot outside. It was a bright morning, and 
 the goldfinch sang, and I could hear him scattering 
 the millet -seed about his cage while I dressed. 
 And then the parting grew very near, and I drank 
 my coffee silently, wondering how soon it would be 
 over, and wishing that the old woman would go 
 out and let me have my house alone. But she 
 would not, and to my surprise she made very little 
 worry or trouble, making a great show of being 
 busy. When I was quite ready, she insisted on 
 putting a handful of roasted chestnuts into my 
 pocket, and she said she would pray for me. The 
 fact is, she thought, foolish old creature as she is, 
 that I was old and in poor health, and she had 
 often teased me to go into the country for a few 
 
 14
 
 210 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 days, so that she was not ill pleased that I should 
 seem to take her advice. She stood looking after 
 me as I trudged along the street, with my bundle 
 and my good stick in my right hand, and a lighted 
 cigar in my left. 
 
 I had made up my mind that I ought first to try 
 the direction hinted at by the baron, since I had 
 absolutely no other clue to the whereabouts of the 
 Count von Lira and his daughter. I therefore got 
 into the old stage that still runs to Palestrina and 
 the neighboring towns, for it is almost as quick as 
 going by rail, and much cheaper ; and half an hour 
 later we rumbled out of the Porta San Lorenzo, 
 and I had entered upon the strange journey to 
 find Hedwig von Lira, concerning which frivolous 
 people have laughed so unkindly. And you may 
 call me a foolish old man if you like. I did it for 
 my boy.
 
 XIII. 
 
 I WENT to Palestrina because all foreigners go 
 there, and are to be heard of from other parts of 
 the mountains in that place. It was a long and 
 tiresome journey ; the jolting stage-coach shook me 
 very much. There was a stout woman inside, with 
 a baby that squealed ; there was a very dirty old 
 country curate, who looked as though he had not 
 shaved for a week, or changed his collar for a 
 month. But he talked intelligently, though Jie 
 talked too much, and he helped to 'pass the time 
 until I was weary of him. We jolted along over 
 the dusty roads, and were at least thankful that it 
 was not yet hot. 
 
 In the evening we arrived at Palestrina, and 
 stopped before the inn in the market-place, as tired 
 and dusty as might be. The woman went one way, 
 and the priest the other, and I was left alone. I 
 soon found the fat old host, and engaged a room 
 for the night. He was talkative and curious, and 
 sat by my side when he had prepared my supper in 
 the dingy dining-room down-stairs. I felt quite sure 
 that he would be able to tell me what I wanted, or 
 at least to give me a hint from hearsay. But he 
 at once began to talk of last year, and how much
 
 212 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 better his business had been then than it was now, 
 as country landlords invariably do. 
 
 It was to no purpose that I questioned him about 
 the people that had passed during- the fortnight, the 
 month, the two months, back ; it was clear that no 
 one of the importance of my friends had been heard 
 of. At last I was tired, and he lit a wax candle, 
 which he would carefully charge in the bill after 
 wards, at double its natural price, and he showed 
 me the way to my room. It was a very decent little 
 room, with white curtains and a good bed and a 
 table, everything I could desire. A storm had 
 come up since I had been at my supper, and it 
 seemed a comfortable thing to go to bed, although 
 I was disappointed at having got no news. 
 
 But when I had blown out my candle, determin 
 ing to expostulate with the host in the morning, if 
 he attempted to make me pay for a whole one, I 
 lay thinking of what I should do ; and turning on 
 my side, I observed that a narrow crack of the 
 door admitted rays of light into the darkness of 
 my chamber. Now I am very sensitive to draughts 
 and inclined to take cold, and the idea that there 
 was a door open troubled me, so that at last I made 
 up my mind to get up and close it. As I rose to 
 my feet, I perceived that it was not the door by 
 which I had entered ; and so, before shutting it, I 
 called out, supposing there might be some one in 
 the next room. 
 
 " Excuse me," I said loudly, " I will shut this 
 door." But there was no reply.
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 213 
 
 Curiosity is perhaps a vice, but it is a natural 
 one. Instead of pulling the door to its place, I 
 pushed it a little, knocking with my knuckles at 
 the same time. But as no one answered, I pushed 
 it further, and put in my head. It was a disagree 
 able thing I saw. 
 
 The room was like mine in every way, save that 
 the bed was moved to the middle of the open space, 
 and there were two candles on two tables. On the 
 bed lay a dead man. I felt what we call a brivido, 
 a shiver like an ague. 
 
 It was the body of an old man, with a face like 
 yellow wax, and a singularly unpleasant expression 
 even in death. His emaciated hands were crossed 
 on his breast, and held a small black crucifix. The 
 candles stood, one at the head and one at the foot, 
 on little tables. I entered the room and looked 
 long at the dead old man. I thought it strange 
 that there should be no one to watch him, but I am 
 not afraid of dead men, after the first shudder is 
 past. It was a ghastly sight enough, however, and 
 the candles shed a glaring, yellowish light over 
 it all. 
 
 " Poor wretch," I said to myself, and went back 
 to my room, closing the door carefully behind me. 
 
 At first I thought of rousing the host, and ex 
 plaining to him my objections to being left almost in 
 the same room with a corpse. But I reflected that 
 it would be foolish to seem afraid of it, when I was 
 really not at all timid, and so I went to bed, and 
 slept until dawn. But when I went down-stairs I
 
 214 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 found the innkeeper, and gave him a piece of my 
 mind. 
 
 " What sort of an inn do you keep ? What 
 manners are these ? " I cried angrily. " What 
 diavolo put into your pumpkin head to give me a 
 sepulchre for a room ? " 
 
 He seemed much disturbed at what I said, and 
 broke out into a thousand apologies. But I was 
 not to be so easily pacified. 
 
 " Do you think," I demanded, " that I will ever 
 come here again, or advise any of my friends to 
 come here ? It is insufferable. I will write to the 
 police " But at this he began to shed tears and 
 to wring his hands, saying it was not his fault. 
 
 " You see, signore, it was my wife who made me 
 arrange it so. Oh ! these women the devil has 
 made them all ! It was her father the old dead 
 man you saw. He died yesterday morning, may 
 he rest ! and we will bury him to-day. You see 
 every one knows that unless a dead man is watched 
 by some one from another town his soul will not 
 rest in peace. My wife's father was a jettatore ; 
 he had the evil eye, and people knew it for miles 
 around, so I could not persuade any one from the 
 other villages to sit by him and watch his body, 
 though I sent everywhere all day yesterday. At 
 last that wife of mine maledictions on her folly ! 
 said, ' It is my father, after all, and his soul 
 must rest, at any price. If you put a traveler in 
 the next room, and leave the door open, it will be 
 the same thing ; and so he will be in peace.' That
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 215 
 
 is the way it happened, signore," he continued, 
 after wiping away his tears ; " you see I could not 
 help it at all. But if you will overlook it, I will 
 not make any charges for your stay. My wife shall 
 pay me. She has poultry by the hundred. I will 
 pay myself with her chickens." 
 
 " Very good," said I, well pleased at having 
 got so cheap a lodging. " But I am a just man, 
 and I will pay for what I have eaten and drunk, 
 and you can take the night's lodging out of your 
 wife's chickens, as you say." So we were both sat 
 isfied. 1 
 
 The storm of the night had passed away, leav 
 ing everything wet and the air cool and fresh. I 
 wrapped my cloak about me, and went into the 
 market-place, to see if I could pick up any news. 
 It was already late, for the country, and there were 
 few people about. Here and there, in the streets, 
 a wine-cart was halting on its way to Rome, while 
 the rough carter went through the usual arrange 
 ment of exchanging some of his employer's wine 
 for food for himself, filling up the barrel with good 
 pure water, that never hurt any one. I wandered 
 about, though I could not expect to see any face 
 that I knew ; it is so many years since I lived at 
 Serveti, that even were the carters from my old 
 place, I should have forgotten how they looked. 
 Suddenly, at the corner of a dirty street, where 
 there was a little blue and white shrine to the Ma- 
 
 1 This incident actually occurred, precisely as related. 
 F. M. C.
 
 216 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 donna, I stumbled against a burly fellow with a 
 gray beard, carrying a bit of salt codfish in one 
 hand and a cake of corn bread in the other, eating 
 as he went. 
 
 " Gigi ! " I cried in delight, when I recognized 
 the old carrettiere who used to bring me grapes 
 and wine, and still does when the fancy takes him. 
 
 " Dio mio ! Signer Conte ! " he cried with his 
 mouth full, and holding up the bread and fish with 
 his two hands, in astonishment. When he re 
 covered himself, he instantly offered to share his 
 meal with me, as the poorest wretch in Italy will 
 offer his crust to the greatest prince, out of polite 
 ness. " Vuol favorire ? " he said, smiling. 
 
 I thanked him and declined, as you may im 
 agine. Then I asked him how he came to be in 
 Palestrina ; and he told me that he was often there 
 in the winter, as his sister had married a vine 
 dresser of the place, of whom he bought wine oc 
 casionally. Very well-to-do people, he explained 
 eagerly, proud of his prosperous relations. 
 
 We clambered along through the rough street 
 together, and I asked him what was the news from 
 Serveti and from that part of the country, well 
 knowing that if he had heard of any rich foreign 
 ers in that neighborhood he would at once tell me 
 of it. But I had not much hope. He talked 
 about the prospects of the vines, and such things, 
 for some time, and I listened patiently. 
 
 " By the bye," he said at last, " there is a gran 
 signore who is gone to live in Fillettino, a crazy
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 217 
 
 man, they say, with, a beautiful daughter, but really 
 beautiful, as an angel." 
 
 I was so much surprised that I made a loud ex 
 clamation. 
 
 " What is the matter ? " asked Gigi. 
 
 " It is nothing, Gigi," I answered, for I was 
 afraid lest he should betray my secret, if I let him 
 guess it. " It is nothing. I struck my foot against 
 a stone. But you were telling about a foreigner 
 who is gone to live somewhere. Fillettino ? Where 
 is that ? " 
 
 " Oh, the place of the diavolo ! I do not wonder 
 you do not know, conte, for gentlemen never go 
 there. "It is in the Abruzzi, beyond Trevi. Did 
 you ever hear of the Serra di Sant' Antonio, where 
 so many people have been killed ? " 
 
 " Diana ! I should think so ! In the old days " 
 
 " Bene," said Gigi, " Fillettino is there, at the 
 beginning of the pass." 
 
 " Tell me, Gigi mio," I said, " are you not very 
 thirsty? " The way to the heart of the wine carter 
 lies through a pint measure. Gigi was thirsty, as 
 I supposed, and we sat down in the porch of my 
 inn, and the host brought a stoup of his best wine 
 and set it before us. 
 
 " I would like to hear about the crazy foreigner 
 who is gone to live in the hills among the bri- 
 ganti," I said, when he had wet his throat. 
 
 " What I know I will tell you, Signor Conte," 
 he answered, filling his pipe with bits that he broke 
 off a cigar. " But I know very little. He must
 
 218 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 be a foreigner, because he goes to such a place; 
 and he is certainly crazy, for he shuts his daughter 
 in the old castle, and watches her as though she 
 was made of wax, like the flowers you have in 
 Rome under glass." 
 
 " How long have they been there, these queer 
 folks?" I asked. 
 
 " What do I know ? It may be a month or two. 
 A man told me, who had come that way from 
 Fucino, and that is all I know." 
 
 " Do people often travel that way, Gigi ? " 
 
 " Not often, indeed," he answered, with a grin. 
 " They are not very civil, the people of those 
 parts." Gigi made a gesture, or a series of ges 
 tures. He put up his hands as though firing a gun. 
 Then he opened his right hand and closed it, with 
 a kind of insinuating twirl of the fingers, which 
 means " to steal." Lastly he put his hand over 
 his eyes, and looked through his fingers as though 
 they were bars, which means " prison." From this 
 I inferred that the inhabitants of Fillettino were 
 addicted to murder, robbery, and other pastimes, 
 for which they sometimes got into trouble. The 
 place he spoke of is about thirty miles, or some 
 thing more, from Palestrina, and I began planning 
 how I should get there as cheaply as possible. I 
 had never been there, and wondered what kind of a 
 habitation the count had found ; for I knew it must 
 be the roughest sort of mountain town, with some 
 dilapidated castle, or other, overhanging it. But the 
 count was rich, and he had doubtless made himself
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 219 
 
 very comfortable. I sat in silence, while Gigi 
 finished his wine, and chatted about his affairs be 
 tween the whiffs of his pipe. 
 
 " Gigi," I said at last, " I want to buy a donkey." 
 
 "Eh, your excellency can be accommodated; 
 and a saddle, too, if you wish." 
 
 " I think I could ride without a saddle," I said, 
 for I thought it a needless piece of extravagance. 
 
 " Madonna mia ! " he cried. " The Signer Conte 
 ride bareback on a donkey ! They would laugh at 
 you. But my brother-in-law can sell you a beast 
 this very day, and for a mere song." 
 
 " Let us go and see the beast," I said. I felt a 
 little ashamed of having wished to ride without a 
 saddle. But as I had sold all I had, I wanted to 
 make the money last as long as possible ; or at least 
 I would spend as little as I could, and take some 
 thing back, if I ever went home at all. We had 
 not far to go, and Gigi opened a door in the street 
 and showed me a stable, in which something moved 
 in the darkness. Presently he led out an animal 
 and began to descant upon its merits. 
 
 "Did you ever see a more beautiful donkey?" 
 asked Gigi admiringly. " It looks like a horse ! " 
 It was a little ass, with sad eyes, and ears as long 
 as its tail. It was also very thin, and had the hair 
 rubbed off its back from carrying burdens. But it 
 had no sore places, and did not seem lame. 
 
 " Pie is full of fire," said Gigi, poking the donkey 
 in the ribs to excite a show of animation. "You 
 should see him gallop up hill with my brother on
 
 220 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 his back, and a good load into the bargain. Brrrr ! 
 Stand still, will you ! " he cried, holding tight by 
 the halter, though the animal did not seem anxious 
 to run away. 
 
 " And then," said Gigi, " he eats nothing, 
 positively nothing." 
 
 " He does not look as though he had eaten much 
 of late," I said. 
 
 " Oh, my brother-in-law is as good to him as 
 though he were a Christian. He gives him corn 
 bread and fish, just like his own children. But this 
 ass prefers straw." 
 
 " A frugal ass," I said, and we began to bargain. 
 I will not tell you what I gave Gigi's brother-in-law 
 for the beast, because you would laugh. And I 
 bought an old saddle, too. It was really necessary, 
 but it was a dear bargain, though it was cheaper 
 than hiring ; for I sold the donkey and the saddle 
 again, and got back something. 
 
 It is a wild country enough that lies behind the 
 mountains towards the sources of the Aniene, 
 the river that makes the falls at Tivoli. You could 
 not half understand how in these times, under the 
 new government, and almost within a long day's 
 ride from Rome, such things could take place as I 
 am about to tell you of, unless I explained to you 
 how very primitive that country is which lies to 
 the southeast of the capital, and which we gener 
 ally call the Abruzzi. The district is wholly moun 
 tainous, and though there are no very great ele 
 vations there are very ragged gorges and steep
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 221 
 
 precipices, and now and then an -inaccessible bit of 
 forest far up among the rocks, which no man has 
 ever thought of cutting down. It would be quite 
 impossible to remove the timber. The people are 
 mostly shepherds in the higher regions, where there 
 are no vines, and when opportunity offers they will 
 waylay the unwary traveler and rob him, and even 
 murder him, without thinking very much about it. 
 In the old days, the boundary between the Papal 
 States and the kingdom of Naples ran through these 
 mountains, and the contrabbandieri the smugglers 
 of all sorts of wares used to cross from one do 
 minion to the other by circuitous paths and steep 
 ways of which only a few had knowledge. The 
 better known of these passes were defended by sol 
 diers and police, but there have been bloody fights 
 fought, within a few years, between the law and its 
 breakers. Foreigners never penetrate into the re 
 cesses of these hills, and even the English guide 
 books, which are said to contain an account of 
 everything that the Buon Dio ever made, compiled 
 from notes taken at the time of the creation, make 
 no mention of places which surpass in beauty all 
 the rest of Italy put together. 
 
 No railroad or other modern innovation pene 
 trates into those Arcadian regions, where the goat 
 herd plays upon his pipe all the day long, the pic 
 ture of peace and innocence, or prowls in the passes 
 with a murderous long gun, if there are foreigners 
 in the air. The women toil at carrying their scant 
 supply of drinking-water from great distances dur-
 
 222 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 ing a part of the day, and in the evening they spin 
 industriously by their firesides or upon their door 
 steps, as the season will have it. It is an old life, 
 the same to-day as a thousand years ago, and per 
 haps as it will be a thousand years hence. The 
 men are great travelers, and go to Rome in the 
 winter to sell their cheese, or to milk a flock of 
 goats in the street at daybreak, selling the foaming 
 canful for a sou. But their visits to the city do 
 not civilize them ; the outing only broadens the ho 
 rizon of their views in regard to foreigners, and 
 makes them more ambitious to secure one, and see 
 what he is like, and cut off his ears, and get his 
 money. Do not suppose that the shepherd of the 
 Abruzzi lies all day on the rocks in the sun, wait 
 ing for the foreign gentleman to come within reach. 
 He might wait a long time. Climbing has strength 
 ened the muscles of his legs into so much steel, 
 and a party of herdsmen have been known to come 
 down from the Serra to the plains around Velletri, 
 and to return to their inaccessible mountains, after 
 doing daring deeds of violence, in twenty-four hours 
 from the time of starting ; covering at least from 
 eighty to ninety miles by the way. They are ex 
 traordinary fellows, as active as tigers, and fabu 
 lously strong, though they are never very big. 
 
 This country begins behind the range of Sabine 
 mountains seen from Rome across the Campagna, 
 and the wild character of it increases as you go to 
 wards the southeast. 
 
 Since I have told you this much, I need not
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 223 
 
 weary you with further descriptions. I do not like 
 descriptions, and it is only when Nino gives me his 
 impressions that I write them, in order that you may 
 know how beautiful things impress him, and the 
 better judge of his character. 
 
 I do not think that Gigi really cheated me so 
 very badly about the donkey. Of course I do not 
 believe the story of his carrying the brother-in-law 
 and the heavy load uphill at a gallop ; but I am 
 thin and not very heavy, and the little ass carried 
 me well enough through the valleys, and when we 
 came to a steep place I would get off and walk, so 
 as not to tire him too much. If he liked to crop a 
 thistle or a blade of grass, I would stop a moment, 
 for I thought he would grow fatter in that way, and 
 I should not lose so much when I sold him again. 
 But he never grew very fat. 
 
 Twice I slept by the way, before I reached the 
 end of my journey, once at Olevano, and once at 
 Trevi ; for the road from Olevano to Trevi is long, 
 and some parts are very rough, especially at first. 
 I could tell you just how every stone on the road 
 looks Rojate, the narrow pass beyond, and then 
 the long valley with the vines ; then the road turns 
 away and rises as you go. along the plateau of Ar- 
 cinazzo, which is hollow beneath, and you can hear 
 the echoes as you tread ; then at the end of that 
 the desperate old inn, called by the shepherds the 
 Madre dei Briganti, the mother of brigands, 
 smoke-blackened within and without, standing alone 
 on the desolate heath ; further on, a broad bend of
 
 224 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 the valley to the left, and you see Trevi rising be 
 fore you, crowned with an ancient castle, and over 
 looking the stream that becomes the Aniene after 
 wards ; from Trevi through a rising valley that 
 grows narrower at every step, and finally seems to 
 end abruptly, as indeed it does, in a dense forest 
 far up the pass. And just below the woods lies 
 the town of Fillettino, where the roads ends; for 
 there is a road which leads to Tivoli, but does not 
 communicate with Olevano, whence I had come. 
 
 Of course I had made an occasional inquiry by 
 the way, when I could do so without making people 
 too curious. When any one asked me where I was 
 going, I would say I was bound for Fucino, to buy 
 beans for seed at the wonderful model farm that 
 Toiionia has made by draining the old lake. And 
 then I would ask about the road ; and sometimes I 
 was told there was a strange foreigner at Fillettino, 
 who made everybody wonder about him by his pe 
 culiar mode of life. Therefore, when I at last saw 
 the town, I was quite sure that the count was there, 
 and I got off my little donkey, and let him drink 
 in the stream, while I myself drank a little higher 
 up. The road was dusty, and my donkey and I 
 were thirsty. 
 
 I thought of all I would do, as I sat on the stone 
 by the water, and the beast cropped the wretched 
 grass ; and soon I came to the conclusion that I did 
 not know in the least what I should do. I had un 
 expectedly found what I wanted, very soon, and I 
 was thankful enough to have been so lucky. But
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 225 
 
 I had not the first conception of what course I was 
 to pursue when once I had made sure of the count. 
 Besides, it was barely possible that it was not he, 
 after all, but another foreigner, with another 
 daughter. The thought frightened me, but I drove 
 it away. If it were really old Lira who had chosen 
 this retreat in which to imprison his daughter and 
 himself, I asked myself whether I could do any 
 thing, save send word to Nino as soon as possible. 
 
 I felt like a sort of Don Quixote, suddenly 
 chilled into the prosaic requirements of common 
 sense. Perhaps if Hedwig had been my Dulcinea, 
 instead of Nino's, the crazy fit would have lasted, 
 and I would have attempted to scale the castle wall 
 and carry off the prize by force. There is no tell 
 ing what a sober old professor of philosophy may 
 not do, when he is crazy. But meanwhile I was 
 sane. Graf von Lira had a right to live anywhere 
 lie pleased with his daughter, and the fact that I 
 had discovered the spot where he pleased to live 
 did not constitute an introduction. Or finally, if I 
 got access to the old count, what had I to say to 
 him ? Ought I to make a formal request for Nino ? 
 I looked at my old clothes, and almost smiled. 
 
 But the weather was cold, though the roads were 
 dusty ; so I mounted my ass and jogged along, 
 meditating deeply. 
 
 15
 
 XIV. 
 
 FILLETTINO is a trifle cleaner than most towns of 
 the same kind. Perhaps it rains more often, and 
 there are fewer people. Considering that its vicin 
 ity has been the scene of robbery, murder, and all 
 manner of adventurous crime from time immemo 
 rial, I had expected to find it a villainous place. It 
 is nothing of the kind. There is a decent appear 
 ance about it that is surprising ; and though the 
 houses are old and brown and poor, I did not see 
 pigs in many rooms, nor did the little children beg 
 of me, as they beg of every one elsewhere. The 
 absence of the pigs struck me particularly, for in 
 the Sabine towns they live in common with the 
 family, and go out only in the daytime to pick up 
 what they can get. 
 
 I went to the apothecary there is always an 
 apothecary in these places and inquired for a 
 lodging. Before very long I had secured a room, 
 and it seemed that the people were accustomed to 
 travelers, for it was surprisingly clean. The bed 
 was so high that I could touch the ceiling when I 
 sat on it, and the walls were covered with orna 
 ments, such as glazed earthenware saints, each with 
 a little basin for holy water, some old engravings of 
 other saints, a few paper roses from the last fair,
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 227 
 
 and a weather-beaten game-pouch of leather. The 
 window looked out over a kind of square, where a 
 great quantity of water ran into a row of masonry 
 tanks out of a number of iron pipes projecting from 
 an overhanging rock. Above the rock was the cas 
 tle, the place I had come to see, towering up against 
 the darkening sky. 
 
 It is such a strange place that I ought to describe 
 it to you, or you will not understand the things that 
 happened there. There is a great rock, as I said, 
 rising above the town, and upon this is built the 
 feudal stronghold, so that the walls of the building 
 do not begin less than forty feet from the street 
 level. The height of the whole castle consequently 
 seems enormous. The walls, for the most part, fol 
 low the lines of the gray rock, irregularly, as chance 
 would have it, and the result is a three-cornered 
 pile, having a high square tower at one angle, 
 where also the building recedes some yards from 
 the edge of the cliff, leaving on that side a broad 
 terrace guarded by a stone parapet. On another 
 side of the great isolated bowlder a narrow road 
 way heads up a steep incline, impracticable for car 
 riages, but passable for four-footed beasts ; and 
 this path gives access to the castle through a heavy 
 gate opening upon a small court within. But the 
 rock itself has been turned to account, and there 
 are chambers within it, which formerly served as 
 prisons, opening to the right and left of a narrow 
 staircase, hewn out of the stone, and leading from 
 the foot of the tower to the street below; upon
 
 228 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 which it opens through a low square door, set in 
 the rock and studded with heavy iron nails. 
 
 Below the castle hangs the town, and behind it 
 rises the valley, thickly wooded with giant beech- 
 trees. Of course I learned the details of the inte 
 rior little by little, and I gathered also some inter 
 esting facts regarding the history of Fillettino, 
 which are not in any way necessary to my story. 
 The first thing I did was to find out what means of 
 communication there were with Rome. There was 
 a postal service twice a week, and I was told that 
 Count von Lira, whose name was no secret in the 
 village, sent messengers very often to Subiaco. 
 The post left that very day, and I wrote to Nino to 
 tell him that I had found his friends in villeggia- 
 tura at Fillettino, advising him to come as soon as 
 he could, and recruit his health and his spirits. 
 
 I learned, further, from the woman who rented 
 me my lodging, that there were other people in the 
 castle besides the count and his daughter. At 
 least, she had seen a tall gentleman on the terrace 
 with them during the last two days ; and it was not 
 t^ue that the count kept Hedwig a prisoner. On 
 the contrary, they rode out together almost every 
 day, and yesterday the tall gentleman had gone 
 with them. The woman also went into many de 
 tails; telling me how much money the count had 
 spent in a fortnight, bringing furniture and a real 
 piano and immense loads of baskets, which the por 
 ters were told contained glass and crockery, and 
 must be carefully handled. It was clear that the
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 229 
 
 count was settled for some time. He had probably 
 taken the old place for a year, by a lease from the 
 Roman family to whom Fillettino and the neigh 
 boring estates belong. He would spend the spring 
 and the summer there, at least. 
 
 Being anxious to see who the tall gentleman 
 might be, of whom my landlady had spoken, I 
 posted myself in the street, at the foot of the in 
 clined bridle-path leading to the castle gate. I 
 walked up and down for two hours, about the time 
 I supposed they would all ride, hoping to catch a 
 glimpse of the party. Neither the count nor his 
 daughter knew me by sight, I was sure, and I felt 
 quite safe. It was a long time to wait, but at last 
 they appeared, and I confess that I nearly fell down 
 against the wall when I saw them. 
 
 There they were on their horses, moving cau 
 tiously down the narrow way above me. First 
 came the count, sitting in his saddle as though he 
 were at the head of his old regiment, his great gray 
 mustaches standing out fiercely from his severe, 
 wooden face. Then came Hedwig, whom I had 
 not seen for a long time, looking as white and sor 
 rowful as the angel of death, in a close black dress, 
 or habit, so that her golden hair was all the color 
 there was to be seen about her. 
 
 But the third rider, there was no mistaking 
 that thin, erect figure, dressed in the affectation of 
 youth ; those fresh pink cheeks, with the snowy 
 mustache, and the thick white hair showing beneath 
 the jaunty hat ; the eagle nose and the bright eyes. 
 Baron Benoni, and no other.
 
 230 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 My first instinct was to hide myself ; but before 
 I could retreat, Benoni recognized me, even with 
 my old clothes. Perhaps they are not so much 
 older than the others, compared with his fashion 
 able garments. He made no sign as the three rode 
 by ; only I could see by his eyes, that were fixed 
 angrily upon me, that he knew me, and did not 
 wish to show it. As for myself, I stood stock still 
 in amazement. 
 
 I had supposed that Benoni had really gone to 
 Austria, as he had told me he was about to do. I 
 had thought him ignorant of the count's retreat, 
 save for the hint which had so luckily led me 
 straight to the mark. I had imagined him to be 
 but a chance acquaintance of the Lira family, hav 
 ing little or no personal interest in their doings. 
 Nevertheless, I had suspected him, as I have told 
 you. Everything pointed to a deception on his 
 part. He had evidently gone immediately from 
 Rome to Fillettino. He must be intimate with the 
 count, or the latter would not have invited him to 
 share a retreat seemingly intended to be kept a 
 secret. He also, I thought, must have some very 
 strong reason for consenting to bury himself in the 
 mountains in company with a father and daughter 
 who could hardly be supposed to be on good terms 
 with each other. 
 
 But again, why had he seemed so ready to help 
 me and to forward Nino's suit? Why had he 
 given me the smallest clue to the count's where 
 abouts ? Now I am not a strong man in action,
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 231 
 
 perhaps, but I am a very cunning reasoner. I re 
 membered the man, and the outrageous opinions he 
 had expressed, both to Nino and to me. Then I 
 understood my suspicions. It would be folly to 
 expect such a man to have any real sympathy or 
 sense of friendship for any one. He had amused 
 himself by promising to come back and go with me 
 on my search, perhaps to make a laughing-stock of 
 me, or even of my boy, by telling the story to the 
 Liras afterwards. He had entertained no idea that 
 I would go alone, or that, if I went, I could be suc 
 cessful. He had made a mistake, and was very 
 angry ; his eyes told me that. Then I made a bold 
 resolution. I would see him and ask him what 
 he intended to do ; in. short, why he had deceived 
 me. 
 
 There would probably be no difficulty in the way 
 of obtaining an interview. I was not known to 
 the others of the party, and Benoui would scarcely 
 refuse to receive me. I thought he would excuse 
 himself, with ready cynicism, and pretend to con 
 tinue his offers of friendship and assistance. I 
 confess, I regretted that I was so humbly clad, in 
 all my old clothes ; but, after all, I was traveling, 
 you know. 
 
 It was a bold resolution, I think, and I revolved 
 the situation in my mind during two days, thinking 
 over what I should say. But with all my thought 
 I only found that everything must depend on Be- 
 noni's answer to my own question " Why ? " 
 
 On the third day, I made myself look as fine as
 
 232 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 I could, and though my heart beat loudly as I 
 mounted the bridle-path, I put on a bold look and 
 rang the bell. It was a clanging thing, that seemed 
 to creak on a hinge, as I pulled the stout string 
 from outside. A man appeared, and on my inquiry 
 said I might wait in the porch behind the great 
 wooden gate, while he delivered my message to 
 his excellency the baron. It seemed to take a long 
 time, and I sat on a stone bench, eyeing the court 
 yard curiously from beneath the archway. It was 
 sunny and clean, with an old well in the middle, 
 but I could see nothing save a few windows open 
 ing upon it. At last the man returned and said 
 that I might come with him. 
 
 I found Benoni, clad in a gorgeous dressing- 
 gown, stalking up and down a large vaulted apart 
 ment, in which there were a few new armchairs, a 
 table covered with books, and a quantity of ancient 
 furniture, that looked unsteady and fragile, although 
 it had been carefully dusted. A plain green baize 
 carpet covered about half the floor, and the re 
 mainder was of red brick. The morning sun 
 streamed in through tall windows, and played in 
 a rainbow-like effulgence on the baron's many 
 colored dressing-gown, as he paused in his walk 
 to greet me. 
 
 " Well, my friend," said Benoni gayly, " how in 
 the name of the devil did you get here ? " I 
 thought I had been right; he was going to play 
 at being my friend again. 
 
 " Very easily, by the help of your little hint," I
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 233 
 
 replied ; and I seated myself, for I felt that I was 
 master of the situation. 
 
 " Ah, if I had suspected you of being so intel 
 ligent, I would not have given you any hint at all. 
 You see I have not been to Austria on business, 
 but am here in this good old flesh of mine, such as 
 it is." 
 
 " Consequently " I began, and then stopped. 
 I suddenly felt that Benoni had turned the tables 
 upon me, I could not tell how. 
 
 "Consequently," said he, continuing my sen 
 tence, " when I told you that I was going to Austria 
 I was lying." 
 
 " The frankness of the statement obliges me to 
 believe that you are now telling the truth," I an 
 swered angrily. I felt uneasy. Benoni laughed 
 in his peculiar way. 
 
 " Precisely," he continued again, " I was lying. 
 I generally do, for so long as I am believed I de 
 ceive people ; and when they find me out, they are 
 confused between truth and lying, so that they do 
 not know what to believe at all. By the bye, I am 
 wandering. I am sorry to see you here. I hope 
 you understand that." He looked at me with the 
 most cheerful expression. I believe I was begin 
 ning to be angry at his insulting calmness. I did 
 not answer him. 
 
 " Signer Grandi." he said in a moment, seeing 
 I was silent, " I am enchanted to see you, if you 
 prefer that I should be. But may I imagine if I 
 can do anything more for you, now that you have
 
 234 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 heard from my own lips that I am a liar ? I say it 
 again, I like the word, I am a liar, and I wish 
 I were a better one. What can I do for you ? " 
 
 " Tell me why you have acted this comedy," said 
 I, recollecting at the right moment the gist of my 
 reflections during the past two days. 
 
 " Why ? To please myself, good sir ; for the sov 
 ereign pleasure of myself." 
 
 " I would surmise," I retorted, " that it could 
 not have been for the pleasure of any one else." 
 
 " Perhaps you mean, because no one else could 
 be base enough to take pleasure in what amuses 
 me ? " I nodded savagely at his question. " Very 
 good. Knowing this of me, do you further surmise 
 that I should be so simple as to tell you how I 
 propose to amuse myself in the future ? " I recog 
 nized the truth of this, and I saw myself check 
 mated at the outset. I therefore smiled and en 
 deavored to seem completely satisfied, hoping that 
 his vanity would betray him into some hint of the 
 future. He seemed to have before taken pleasure 
 in misleading me with a fragment of truth, suppos 
 ing that I could not make use of it. I would en 
 deavor to lead him into such a trap again. 
 
 " It is a beautiful country, is it not ? " I re 
 marked, going to the window before which he stood, 
 and looking out. " You must enjoy it greatly, 
 after the turmoil of society." You see, I was once 
 as gay as any of them, in the old days ; and so I 
 made the reflection that seemed natural to his case, 
 wondering how he would answer.
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 235 
 
 " It is indeed a very passable landscape," he said 
 indifferently. " With horses and a charming com 
 panion one may kill a little time here, and find a 
 satisfaction in killing it." I noticed the slip, by 
 which he spoke of a single companion instead of 
 two. 
 
 " Yes," I replied, " the count is said to be a most 
 agreeable man." 
 
 He paused a moment, and the hesitation seemed 
 to show that the count was not the companion he 
 had in his mind. 
 
 " Oh, certainly," he said, at length, " the count is 
 very agreeable, and his daughter is the paragon of 
 all the virtues and accomplishments." There was 
 something a little disparaging in his tone as he 
 made the last remark, which seemed to me a clumsy 
 device to throw me off the scent, if scent there 
 were. Considering his surpassing personal van 
 ity, of which I had received an ocular demonstra 
 tion when he visited me in Rome, I fancied that if 
 there were nothing more serious in his thoughts he 
 would have given me to understand that Hedwig 
 found him entirely irresistible. Since he was able 
 to control his vanity, there must be a reason for it. 
 
 "I should think that the contessina must be 
 charmed at having so brilliant a companion as 
 yourself in her solitude," I said, feeling my way 
 to the point. 
 
 "With me? I am an old man. Children of 
 that age detest old men." I thought his manner 
 constrained, and it was unlike him not to laugh as
 
 236 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 he made the speech. The conviction grew upon 
 me that Heclwig was the object of his visit. More 
 over, I became persuaded that he was but a poor 
 sort of villain, for he was impulsive, as villains 
 should never be. We leaned over the stone sill of 
 the window, which he had opened during the con 
 versation. There was a little trail of ants climbing 
 up and down the wall at the side, and he watched 
 them. One of the small creatures, heavily laden 
 with a seed of some sort, and toiling painfully 
 under the burden, had been separated from the 
 rest, and clambered over the edge of the window- 
 sill. On reaching the level surface it paused, as 
 though very weary, and looked about, moving its 
 tiny horns. Benoni looked at it a moment, and 
 then with one finger he suddenly whisked the poor 
 little thing into space. It hurt me to see it, and 
 I knew he must be cruel, for he laughed aloud. 
 Somehow, it would have seemed less cruel to have 
 brushed away the whole trail of insects, rather 
 than to pitch upon this one small, tired workman, 
 overladen and forgotten by the rest. 
 
 " Why did you do that ? " I asked involuntarily. 
 
 " Why ? Why do I do anything ? Because I 
 please, the best of all reasons." 
 
 " Of course, it was foolish of me to ask you. 
 That is probably the cause of your presence here. 
 You would like to hurl my boy Nino from the 
 height he has reached in his love, and to satisfy 
 your cruel instincts you have come here to attack 
 the heart of an innocent girl." I watched him nar-
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 237 
 
 rowly, and I have often wondered how I had the 
 courage to insult him. It was a bold shot at the 
 truth, and his look satisfied me that I was not very 
 wide of the mark. To accuse a gray-haired old 
 man of attempting to win the affections of a young 
 girl would seem absurd enough. But if you had 
 ever seen Benoni, you would understand that he 
 was anything but old, save for his snowy locks. 
 Many a boy might envy the strange activity of his 
 thin limbs, the bloom and freshness of his eager 
 face, and the fire of his eyes. He was impulsive, 
 too ; for instead of laughing at the absurdity of the 
 thing, or at what should have been its absurdity, as 
 a more accomplished villain would have done, he 
 was palpably angry. He looked quickly at me and 
 moved savagely, so that I drew back, and it was 
 not till some moments later that it occurred to him 
 that he ought to seem amused. 
 
 "How ridiculous!" he cried at last, mastering 
 his anger. " You are joking." 
 
 " Oh, of course I am joking," I answered, leav 
 ing the window. " And now I must wish you good- 
 morning, with many apologies for my intrusion." 
 He must have been glad to be rid of me, but he 
 politely insisted on showing me to the gate. Per 
 haps he wanted to be sure that I should not ask 
 questions of the servants. 
 
 As we passed through an outer hall, we came 
 sxiddenly upon Hedwig, entering from the opposite 
 direction, dressed in black, and looking like a beau 
 tiful shadow of pain. As I have told you, she did
 
 238 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 not know me. Benoni bowed to the ground, as she 
 went by, making some flattering speech about her 
 appearance. She had started slightly on first see 
 ing us, and then she went on without speaking ; 
 but there was on her face a look of such sovereign 
 scorn and loathing as I never saw on the features 
 of any living being. And more than scorn, for 
 there was fear and hatred with it ; so that if a 
 glance could tell a whole history, there would have 
 been no detail of her feeling for Benoni left to 
 guess. 
 
 This meeting produced a profound impression on 
 me, and I saw her face in my dreams that night. 
 Had anything been wanting to complete, in my 
 judgment, the plan of the situation in the castle, 
 that something was now supplied. The Jew had 
 come there to get her for himself. She hated him 
 for his own sake ; she hated him because she was 
 faithful to Nino ; she hated him because he per 
 haps knew of her secret love for my boy. Poor 
 maiden, shut up for days and weeks to come with 
 a man she dreaded and scorned at once ! The 
 sight of her recalled to me that I had in my pocket 
 the letter Nino had sent me for her, weeks before, 
 and which I had found no means of delivering since 
 I had been in Fillettino. Suddenly I was seized 
 with a mad determination to deliver it at any cost. 
 The baron bowed me out of the gate, and I paused 
 outside when the ponderous door had swung on its 
 hinges and his footsteps were echoing back through 
 the court.
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 239 
 
 I sat down on the parapet of the bridle-path, and 
 with my knife cut some of the stitches that sewed 
 my money between my two waistcoats. I took out 
 one of the bills of a hundred francs that were con 
 cealed within, I found the letter Nino had sent me 
 for Hedwig, and I once more rang the bell. The 
 man who had admitted me came again, and looked 
 at me in some astonishment. But I gave him no 
 time to question me. 
 
 " Here is a note for a hundred francs," I said. 
 " Take it, and give this letter to the Signora Con- 
 tessina. If you bring me a written answer here 
 to-morrow at this hour, I will give you as much 
 more." The man was dumfounded for a moment, 
 after which he clutched the money and the letter 
 greedily, and hid them in his coat. 
 
 "Your excellency shall be punctually obeyed," 
 he said, with a ^deep bow, and I went away. 
 
 It was recklessly extravagant of me to do this, 
 but there was no other course. A small bribe 
 would have been worse than none at all. If you 
 can afford to pay largely, it is better to bribe a 
 servant than to trust a friend. Your friend has 
 nothing to gain by keeping your secret, whereas the 
 servant hopes for more money in the future, and 
 the prospect of profit makes him as silent as the 
 grave. 
 
 I would certainly not have acted as I did, had I 
 not met Hedwig in the hall. But the sight of her 
 pale face and heavy eyes went to my heart, and I 
 would have given the whole of my little fortune to
 
 240 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 bring some gladness to her, even though I might 
 not see it. The situation, too, was so novel and 
 alarming that I felt obliged to act quickly, not 
 knowing what evils delay might produce. 
 
 On the following morning I went up to the gate 
 way again and rang the bell. The same man ap 
 peared. He slipped a note into my hand, and I 
 slipped a bill into his. But, to my surprise, he did 
 not shut the door and retire. 
 
 " The signorina said your excellency should read 
 the note, and I should accompany you," he said ; 
 and I saw he had his hat in his hand, as if ready to 
 go. I tore open the note. It merely said that the 
 servant was trustworthy, and would " instruct the 
 Signor Grandi " how to act. 
 
 " You told the contessina my name, then ? " I 
 said to the man. He had announced me to the 
 baron, and consequently knew who I was. He 
 nodded, closed the door behind him, and came with 
 me. When we were in the street, he explained 
 that Hedwig desired to speak with me. He ex 
 pounded the fact that there was a staircase in the 
 rock, leading to the level of the town. Further 
 more, he said that the old count and the baron occar 
 sionally drank deeply, as soldiers and adventurers 
 will do, to pass the evening. The next time it 
 occurred^ he, the faithful servant, would come to 
 my lodging and conduct me into the castle by the 
 aforesaid passage, of which he had the key. 
 
 I confess I was unpleasantly alarmed at the pros 
 pect of making a burglarious entrance in such ro-
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 241 
 
 mantle fashion. It savored more of the last cen 
 tury than of the quiet and eminently respectable 
 age in which we live. But then, the castle of 
 Fillettino was built hundreds of years ago, and it is 
 not my fault if it has not gone to ruin, like so many 
 others of its kind. The man recommended me to 
 be always at home after eight o'clock in the even 
 ing, in case I were wanted, and to avoid seeing the 
 baron when he was abroad. He came and saw 
 where I lived, and with many bows he left me. 
 
 You may imagine in what anxiety I passed my 
 time. A whole week elapsed, and yet I was never 
 summoned. Every evening at seven, an hour be 
 fore the time named, I was in my room, waiting for 
 some one who never came. I was so much disturbed 
 in mind that I lost my appetite and thought of being 
 bled again. But I thought it too soon, and con 
 tented myself with getting a little tamarind from 
 the apothecary. 
 
 One morning the apothecary, who is also the 
 postmaster, gave me a letter from Nino, dated in 
 Rome. His engagement was over, he had reached 
 Rome, and he would join me immediately. 
 
 16
 
 XV. 
 
 As it often happens that, in affairs of impor 
 tance, the minor events which lead to the ultimate 
 result seem to occur rapidly, and almost to stumble 
 over each other in their haste, it came to pass that 
 on the very evening after I had got Nino's letter I 
 was sent for by the contessina. 
 
 When the man came to call me, I was sitting in 
 my room, from force of habit, though the long de 
 lay had made the possibility of the meeting seem 
 shadowy. I was hoping that Nino might arrive in 
 time to go in my place, for I knew that he would 
 not be many hours behind his letter. He would 
 assuredly travel as fast as he could, and if he had 
 understood my directions he was not likely to go 
 astray. But in spite of my hopes the summons 
 came too soon, and I was obliged to go myself. 
 
 Picture to yourselves how I looked and how I 
 felt : a sober old professor, as I am, stealing out in 
 the night, all wrapped in a cloak as dark and 
 shabby as any conspirator's ; armed with a good 
 knife in case of accidents ; with beating hea,rt, and 
 doubting whether I could use my weapon if need 
 ful ; and guided to the place of tryst by the confi 
 dential servant of a beautiful and unhappy maiden. 
 I have often laughed since then at the figure I must
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 243 
 
 have cut, but I did not laugh at the time. It was a 
 very serious affair. 
 
 We skirted the base of the huge rock on which 
 the castle is built, and reached the small, low door 
 without meeting any one. It was a moonlit night, 
 the Paschal moon was nearly at the full, and 
 the whiteness made each separate iron rivet in the 
 door stand out distinct, thrown into relief by its 
 own small shadow on the seamed oak. My guide 
 produced a ponderous key, which screamed hoarsely 
 in the lock under the pressure of his two hands, as 
 he made it turn in the rusty wards. The noise 
 frightened me, but the man laughed, and said they 
 could not hear where they sat, far up in the vaulted 
 chamber, telling long stories over their wine. We 
 entered, and I had to mount a little way up the 
 dark steps to give him room to close the door be 
 hind us, by which we were left in total darkness. I 
 confess I was very nervous and frightened until he 
 lighted a taper which he had brought and made 
 enough light to show the way. The stairs were 
 winding and steep, but perfectly dry, and when he 
 had passed me I followed him, feeling that at all 
 events the door behind was closed, and there was 
 some one between me and any danger ahead. 
 
 The man paused in front of me, and when I had 
 rounded the corner of the winding steps I saw that 
 a brighter light than ours shone from a small door 
 way opening directly upon the stair. In another 
 moment I was in the presence of Hedwig von Lira. 
 The man retired, and left us.
 
 244 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 She stood, dressed in black, against the rough 
 stone ; the strong light of a gorgeous gilt lamp that 
 was placed on the floor streamed upward on her 
 white face. Her eyes caught the brightness, and 
 seemed to burn like deep, dark gems, though they 
 appeared so blue in the day. She looked like a 
 person tortured past endurance, so that the pain of 
 the soul has taken shape, and the agony of the 
 heart has assumed substance. Tears shed had hol 
 lowed the marble cheeks, and the stronger suffering 
 that cannot weep had chiseled out great shadows 
 beneath her brows. Her thin clasped hands seemed 
 wringing each other into strange shapes of woe ; 
 and though she stood erect as a slender pillar 
 against the black rock, it was rather from the cour 
 age of despair than because she was straight and 
 tall by her own nature. 
 
 I bent low before her, awed by the extremity 
 of suffering I saw. 
 
 " Are you Signer Grandi?" she asked, in a low 
 and trembling voice. 
 
 " Most humbly at your service, Signora Contes- 
 sina," I answered. She put out out her hand to 
 me, and then drew it back quickly, with a timid, 
 nervous look as I moved to take it. 
 
 " I never saw you," she said, " but I feel as 
 though you must be a friend " She paused. 
 
 " Indeed, signorina, I am here for that reason," 
 said I, trying to speak stoutly, and so to inspire her 
 with some courage. " Tell me how I can best serve 
 you ; and though I am not young and strong like
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 245 
 
 Nino Cardegna, my boy, I am not so old but that I 
 can do whatsoever you command." 
 
 " Then, in God's name, save me from this " 
 But again the sentence died upon her lips, and she 
 glanced anxiously at the door. I reflected that if 
 any one came we should be caught like mice in a 
 trap, and I made as though I would look out upon 
 the stairs. But she stopped me. 
 
 " I am foolishly frightened," she said. " That 
 man is faithful, and will keep watch." I thought it 
 time to discover her wishes. 
 
 " Signorina," said I, " you ask me to save you. 
 You do not say from what. I can at least tell you 
 that Nino Cardegna will be here in a day or two " 
 At this sudden news she gave a little cry, and 
 the blood rushed to her cheeks, in strange contrast 
 with their deathly whiteness. She seemed on the 
 point of speaking, but checked herself, and her 
 eyes, that had looked me through and through a 
 moment before, drooped modestly under my glance. 
 
 " Is it possible ? " she said at last, in a changed 
 voice. " Yes, if he comes, I think the Signor Car 
 degna will help me." 
 
 " Madam," I said, very courteously, for I guessed 
 her embarrassment, " I can assure you that my boy 
 is ready to give you his life in return for the kind 
 ness he received at your hands in Rome." She 
 looked up, smiling through her tears, for the sud 
 den happiness had moistened the drooping lids. 
 
 " You are very kind, Signor Grandi. Signor 
 Cardegna is, I believe, a good friend of mine. 
 You say he will be here ? "
 
 246 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 " I received a letter from him to-day, dated in 
 Rome, in which he tells me that he will start im 
 mediately. He may be here to-morrow morning," 
 I answered. Hedwig had regained her composure, 
 perhaps because she was reassured by my manner 
 of speaking about Nino. I, however, was anxious 
 to hear from her own lips some confirmation of my 
 suspicions concerning the baron. " I have no 
 doubt," I continued, presently, " that, with your 
 consent, my boy will be able to deliver you from 
 this prison " I used the word at a venture. 
 Had Hedwig suffered less, and been less cruelly 
 tormented, she would have rebuked me for the ex 
 pression. But I recalled her to her position, and 
 her self-control gave way at once. 
 
 "Oh, you are right to call it a prison! "she 
 cried. " It is as much a prison as this chamber 
 hewed out of the rock, where so many a wretch has 
 languished hopelessly ; a prison from which I am 
 daily taken out into the sweet sun, to breathe and 
 be kept alive, and to taste how joyful a thing lib 
 erty must be ! And every day I am brought back, 
 and told that I may be free if I will consent. Con 
 sent ! God of mercy ! " she moaned, in a sudden 
 tempest of passionate despair. " Consent ever to 
 belong, body and soul to be touched, polluted, 
 desecrated, by that inhuman monster ; sold to him, 
 to a creature without pity, whose heart is a toad, a 
 venomous creeping thing, sold to him for this 
 life, and to the vengeance of God hereafter; bar 
 tered, traded, and told that I am so vile and lost
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 247 
 
 that the very price I am offered is an honor to me, 
 being so much more than my value." She came 
 toward me as she spoke, and the passionate, un 
 shed tears that were in her seemed to choke her, so 
 that her voice was hoarse. 
 
 "And for what for what?" she cried wildly, 
 seizing my arm and looking fiercely into my eyes. 
 " For what, I say ? Because I gave him a poor rose ; 
 because I let him see me once ; because I loved his 
 sweet voice ; because because I love him, and 
 will love him, and do love him, though I die ! " 
 
 The girl was in a frenzy of passion and love and 
 hate all together, and did not count her words. The 
 white heat of her tormented soul blazed from her 
 pale face and illuminated every feature, though she 
 was turned from the light, and she shook my arm 
 in her grasp so that it pained me. The marble was 
 burned in the fire, and must consume itself to ashes. 
 The white and calm statue was become a pillar of 
 flame in the life-and-death struggle for love. I 
 strove to speak, but could not, for fear and wonder 
 tied my tongue. And indeed she gave me short 
 time to think. 
 
 " I tell you I love him, as he loves me," she con 
 tinued, her voice trembling upon the rising cadence, 
 " with all my whole being. Tell him so. Tell him 
 he must save me, and that only he can : that for 
 his sake I am tortured, and scorned, and disgraced, 
 and sold ; my body thrown to dogs, and worse than 
 dogs ; my soul given over to devils that tempt me 
 to kill and be free, by my own father, for his
 
 248 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 sake. Tell him that these hands he kissed are 
 wasted with wringing small pains from each other, 
 but the greater pain drives them to do worse. Tell 
 him, good sir, you are kind and love liim, but 
 not as I do, tell him that this golden hair of 
 mine has streaks of white in these terrible two 
 months; that these eyes he loved are worn with 
 weeping. Tell him " 
 
 But her voice failed her, and she staggered 
 against the wall, hiding her face in her hands. A 
 trembling breath, a struggle, a great wild sob : the 
 long-sealed tears were free, and flowed fast over her 
 hands. 
 
 " Oh, no, no," she moaned, " you must not tell 
 him that." Then choking down her agony she 
 turned to me : " You will not you cannot tell 
 him of this ? I am weak, ill, but I will bear every 
 thing for for him." The great effort exhausted 
 her, and I think that if I had not caught her she 
 would have fallen, and she would have hurt herself 
 very much on the stone floor. But she is young, 
 and I am not very strong, and could not have held 
 her up. So I knelt, letting her weight come on my 
 shoulder. 
 
 The fair head rested pathetically against my old 
 coat, and I tried to wipe away her tears with her 
 long, golden hair ; for I had not any handkerchief. 
 But very soon I could not see to do it. I was 
 crying myself, for the pity of it all, and my tears 
 trickled down and fell on her thin hands. And 
 so I kneeled, and she half lay and half sat upon
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 249 
 
 the floor, with her head resting on my shoulder. I 
 was glad then to be old, for I felt that I had a right 
 to comfort her. 
 
 Presently she looked up into my face, and saw 
 that I was weeping. She did not speak, but found 
 her little lace handkerchief, and pressed it to my 
 eyes, first to one, and then to the other ; and the 
 action brought a faint maidenly flush to her cheeks 
 through all her own sorrow. A daughter could not 
 have done it more kindly. 
 
 " My child," I said at last, " be sure that your 
 secret is safe with me. But there is one coming 
 with whom it will be safer." 
 
 " You are so good," she said, and her head sank 
 once more, and nestled against my breast, so that 
 I could just see the bright tresses through my gray 
 beard. But in a moment she looked up again, and 
 made as though she would rise ; and then I helped 
 her, and we both stood on our feet. 
 
 Poor, beautiful, tormented Hedwig ! I can re 
 member it, and call up the whole picture to my 
 mind. She still leaned on my arm, and looked up 
 to me, her loosened hair all falling back upon her 
 shoulders ; and the wonderful lines of her delicate 
 face made ethereal and angelic by her sufferings. 
 
 " My dear," I said at last, smoothing her golden 
 hair with my hand, as I thought her mother would 
 do, if she had a mother, " my dear, your inter 
 view with my boy may be a short one, and you may 
 not have an opportunity to meet at all for days. If 
 it does not pain you too much, will you tell me just
 
 250 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 what your troubles are, here ? I can then tell him, 
 so that you can save the time when you are to 
 gether." She gazed into my eyes for some seconds, 
 as though to prove me, whether I were a true man. 
 
 "I think you are right," she answered, taking 
 courage. " I will tell you in two words. My father 
 treats me as though I had committed some unpar 
 donable crime, which I do not at all understand. 
 He says my reputation is ruined. Surely, that is 
 not true?" She asked the question so innocently 
 and simply that I smiled. 
 
 "No, my dear, it is not true," I replied. 
 
 " I am sure I cannot understand it," she contin 
 ued; "but he says so, and insists that my only 
 course is to accept what he calls the advantageous 
 offer which has suddenly presented itself. He insists 
 very roughly." She shuddered slightly. " He gives 
 me no peace. It appears that this creature wrote 
 to ask my father for my hand, when we left Rome, 
 two months ago. The letter was forwarded, and 
 my father began at once to tell me that I must 
 make up my mind to the marriage. At first I used 
 to be very angry ; but seeing we were alone, I 
 finally determined to seem indifferent, and not to 
 answer him when he talked about it. Then he 
 thought my spirit was broken, and he sent for 
 Baron Benoni, who arrived a fortnight ago. Do 
 you know him, Signor Grandi ? You came to see 
 him, so I suppose you do." The same look of 
 hatred and loathing came to her face that I had 
 noticed when Benoni and I met her in the hall.
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 251 
 
 " Yes, I know him. He is a traitor, a villain," I 
 said earnestly. 
 
 "Yes, and more than that. But he is a great 
 banker in Russia " 
 
 " A banker ? " I asked, in some astonishment. 
 
 " Did you not know it ? Yes ; he is very rich, 
 and has a great firm, if that is the name for it. 
 But he wanders incessantly, and his partners take 
 care of his affairs. My father says that I shall 
 marry him, or end my days here." 
 
 " Unless you end his for him ! " I cried indig 
 nantly. 
 
 " Hush ! " said she, and trembled violently. " He 
 is my father, you know," she added earnestly. 
 
 " But you cannot consent " I began. 
 
 " Consent ! " she interrupted, with a bitter laugh. 
 " I will die rather than consent." 
 
 " I mean, you cannot consent to be shut up in 
 this valley forever." 
 
 " If need be, I will," she said, in a low voice. 
 
 "There is no need," I whispered. 
 
 " You do not know my father. He is a man of 
 iron," she answered sorrowfully. 
 
 " You do not know my boy. He is a man of his 
 word," I replied. 
 
 We were both silent, for we both knew very well 
 what our words meant. From such a situation 
 there could be but one escape. 
 
 " I think you ought to go now," she said at last. 
 "If I were missed it would all be over. But I 
 am. sorry to let you go, you are so kind. How can
 
 252 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 you let me know" She stopped, with ablush, 
 and stooped to raise the lamp from the floor. 
 
 " Can you not meet here to-morrow night, when 
 they are asleep ? " I suggested, knowing what her 
 question would have been. 
 
 " I will send the same man to you to-morrow 
 evening, and let you know what is possible," she 
 said. " And now I will show you the way out of 
 my house," she added, with the first faint shadow 
 of a smile. With the slight gilt lamp in her hand, 
 she went out of the little rock chamber, listened a 
 moment, and began to descend the steps. 
 
 " But the key ? " I asked, following her light 
 footsteps with my heavier tread. 
 
 " It is in the door," she answered, and went on. 
 
 When we reached the bottom, we found it as she 
 had said. The servant had left the key on the in 
 side, and with some difficulty I turned the bolts. 
 We stood for one moment in the narrow space, 
 where the lowest step was set close against the door. 
 Her eyes flashed strangely in the lamplight. 
 
 " How easy it would be ! " I said, understanding 
 her glance. She nodded, and pushed me gently 
 out into the street ; and I closed the door, and 
 leaned against it as she locked it. 
 
 " Good-night," she said from the other side, and 
 I put my mouth to the keyhole. " Good-night. 
 Courage ! " I answered. I could hear her lightly 
 mounting the stone steps. It seemed wonderful to 
 me that she should not be afraid to go back alone. 
 But love makes people brave.
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 253 
 
 The moon had risen higher during the time I had 
 been within, and I strolled round the base of the 
 rock, lighting a cigar as I went. The terrible adven 
 ture I had dreaded was now over, and I felt myself 
 again. In truth, it was a curious thing to happen 
 to a man of my years and my habits ; but the 
 things I had heard had so much absorbed my atten 
 tion that, while the interview lasted, I had for 
 gotten the strange manner of the meeting. I was 
 horrified at the extent of the girl's misery, more 
 felt than understood from her brief description and 
 passionate outbreaks. There is no mistaking the 
 strength of a suffering that wastes and consumes 
 the mortal part of us as wax melts at the fire. 
 
 And Benoni the villain ! He had written to 
 ask Hedwig in marriage before he came to see me 
 in Rome. There was something fiendish in his al 
 most inviting me to see his triumph, and I cursed 
 him as I kicked the loose stones in the road with my 
 heavy shoes. So he was a banker, as well as a mu 
 sician and a wanderer. Who would have thought it ? 
 
 " One thing is clear," I said to myself, as I went 
 to bed : " unless something is done immediately, 
 that poor girl will consume herself and die." And 
 all that night her poor thin face and staring eyes 
 were in my dreams ; so that I woke up several 
 times, thinking I was trying to comfort her and 
 could not. But toward dawn I felt sure that Nino 
 was coming, and that all would be well. 
 
 I was chatting with my old landlady the next 
 morning, and smoking to pass the time, when there 
 was suddenly a commotion in the street. That is
 
 254 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 to say, some one was arriving, and all the little 
 children turned out in a body to run after the 
 stranger, while the old women came to their doors 
 with their knitting, and squinted under the bright 
 sunlight to see what was the matter. 
 
 It was Nino, of course my own boy, riding on 
 a stout mule, with a countryman by his side upon 
 another. He was dressed in plain gray clothes, 
 and wore high boots. His great felt hat drooped 
 half across his face, and hid his eyes from me ; but 
 there was no mistaking the stern, square jaw and 
 the close, even lips. I ran toward him, and called 
 him by name. In a moment he was off his beast, 
 and we embraced tenderly. 
 
 " Have you seen her ? " were the first words he 
 spoke. I nodded, and hurried him into the house 
 where I lived, fearful lest some mischance should 
 bring the party from the castle riding by. He sent 
 his man with the mules to the inn, and when we 
 were at last alone together he threw himself into a 
 chair, and took off his hat. 
 
 Nino too was changed in the two months that 
 had passed. He had traveled far, had sung lustily, 
 and had been applauded to the skies ; and he had 
 seen the great world. But there was more than all 
 that in his face. There were lines of care and of 
 thought that well became his masculine features. 
 There was a something in his look that told of a 
 set purpose, and there was a light in his dark eyes 
 that spoke a world of warning to any one who 
 might dare to thwart him. But he seemed thinner, 
 and his cheeks were as white as the paper I write on.
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 255 
 
 Some men are born masters, and never once 
 relax the authority they exercise on those around 
 them. Nino has always commanded me, as he 
 seems to command everybody else, in the fewest 
 words possible. But he is so true and honest and 
 brave that all who know him love him ; and that 
 is more than can be said for most artists. As he 
 sat in his chair, hesitating what question to ask 
 first, or waiting for me to speak, I thought that if 
 Hedwig von Lira had searched the whole world for 
 a man able to deliver her from her cruel father and 
 from her hated lover she could have chosen no 
 better champion than Nino Cardegna, the singer. 
 Of course you all say that I am infatuated with the 
 boy, and that I helped him to do a reckless thing, 
 simply because I was blinded by my fondness. But 
 I maintain, and shall ever hold, that Nino did right 
 in this matter, and I am telling my story merely in 
 order that honest men may judge. 
 
 He sat by the window, and the sun poured 
 through the panes upon his curling hair, his travel 
 ing dress, and his dusty boots. The woman of the 
 house brought in some wine and water ; but he 
 only sipped the water, and would not touch the 
 wine. 
 
 " You are a dear, kind father to me," he said, 
 putting out his hand from where he sat, " and be 
 fore we talk I must tell you how much I thank 
 you." Simple words, as they look on paper ; but 
 another man could not have, said so much in an 
 hour, as his voice and look told me.
 
 XVI. 
 
 " NINO mio," I began, " I saw the contessina last 
 night. She is in a very dramatic and desperate 
 situation. But she greets you, and looks to you to 
 save her from her troubles." Nino's face was calm, 
 but his voice trembled a little as he answered : 
 
 " Tell me quickly, please, what the troubles are." 
 
 " Softly I will tell you all about it. You 
 must know that your friend Benoni is a traitor to 
 you, and is here. Do not look astonished. He 
 has made up his mind to marry the contessina, and 
 she says she will die rather than take him, which 
 is quite right of her." At the latter piece of news, 
 Nino sprang from his chair. 
 
 " You do not seriously mean that her father is 
 trying to make her marry Benoni ? " he cried. 
 
 " It is infamous, my dear boy ; but it is true." 
 
 " Infamous ! I should think you could find a 
 stronger word. How did you learn this ? " I detailed 
 the circumstances of our meeting on the previous 
 night. While I talked, Nino listened with intense 
 interest, and his face changed its look from anger 
 to pity, and from pity to horror. When I had fin 
 ished, he was silent. 
 
 " You can see for yourself," I said, " that the 
 case is urgent."
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 257 
 
 " I will take her away," said Nino, at last. " It 
 will be very unpleasant for the count. He would 
 have been wiser to allow her to have her own way." 
 
 " Do nothing rash, Nino mio. Consider a little 
 what the consequences would be if you were caught 
 in the act of violently carrying off the daughter of 
 a man as powerful as Von Lira." 
 
 " Bah ! You talk of his power as though we lived 
 under the Colonnesi and the Orsini, instead of 
 under a free monarchy. If I am once married to 
 her, what have I to fear ? Do you think the count 
 would go to law about his daughter's reputation ? 
 Or do you suppose he would try to murder me ? " 
 
 " I would do both, in his place," I answered. 
 " But perhaps you are right, and he will yield when 
 he sees that he is outwitted. Think again, and sup 
 pose that the contessina herself objects to such a 
 step." 
 
 " That is a different matter. She shall do noth 
 ing save by her own free will. You do not imagine 
 I would try to take her away unless she were will 
 ing? " He sat down again beside me, and affec 
 tionately laid one hand on my shoulder. 
 
 "Women, Nino, are women," I remarked. 
 
 " Unless they are angels," he assented. 
 
 "Keep the angels for Paradise, and beware of 
 taking them into consideration in this working-day 
 world. I have often told you, my boy, that I am 
 older than you." 
 
 " As if I doubted that ! " he laughed. 
 
 " Very well. I know something about women. A 
 
 17
 
 258 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 hundred women will tell you that they are ready to 
 flee with you ; but not more than one in the hun 
 dred will really leave everything and follow you to 
 the end of the world, when the moment comes for 
 running away. They always make a fuss at the 
 last, and say it is too dangerous, and you may be 
 caught. That is the way of them. You will be 
 quite ready with a ladder of ropes, like one of Boc 
 caccio's men, and a roll of bank-notes for the jour 
 ney, and smelling-salts, and a cushion for the puppy 
 dog, and a separate conveyance for the maid, just 
 according to the directions she has given you ; 
 then, at the very last, she will perhaps say that she 
 is afraid of hurting her father's feelings by leaving 
 him without any warning. Be careful, Nino ! " 
 
 " As for that," he answered sullenly enough, " if 
 she will not, she will not ; and I would not attempt 
 to persuade her against her inclination. But un 
 less you have very much exaggerated what you saw 
 in her face, she will be ready at five minutes' no 
 tice. It must be very like hell, up there in that 
 castle, I should think." 
 
 " Messer Diavolo, who rules over the house, will 
 not let his prey escape him so easily as you think." 
 
 " Her father ? " he asked. 
 
 " No ; Benoni. There is no creature so relent 
 less as an old man in pursuit of a young woman." 
 
 " I am not afraid of Benoni." 
 
 " You need not be afraid of her father," said I, 
 laughing. " He is lame, and cannot run after you." 
 I do not know why it is that we Romans laugh at
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 259 
 
 lame people ; we are sorry for them, of course, 
 as we are for other cripples. 
 
 "There is something more than fear in the mat 
 ter," said -Nino seriously. "It is a great thing to 
 have upon one's soul." 
 
 "What?" I asked. 
 
 " To take a daughter away from her father with 
 out his consent, or at least without consulting 
 him. I would not like to do it." 
 
 " Do you mean to ask the old gentleman's con 
 sent before eloping with his daughter ? You are a 
 little donkey, Nino, upon my word. " 
 
 " Donkey, or anything else you like, but I will 
 act like a galantuomo. I will see the count, and 
 ask him once more whether he is willing to let his 
 daughter marry me. If not, so much the worse ; 
 he will be warned." 
 
 " Look here, Nino," I said, astonished at the 
 idea. " I have taught you a little logic. Suppose 
 you meant to steal a horse, instead of a woman. 
 Would you go to the owner of the horse, with your 
 hat in your hand, and say, ' I trust your worship 
 will not be offended if I steal this horse, which 
 seems to be a good animal and pleases me;' and 
 then would you expect him to allow you to steal his 
 horse ? " 
 
 " Sor Cornelio, the case is not the same. Women 
 have a right to be free, and to marry whom they 
 please ; but horses are slaves. However, as I am 
 not a thief, I would certainly ask the man for the 
 horse ; and if he refused it, and I conceived that I
 
 260 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 had a right to have it, I would take it by force, and 
 not by stealth." 
 
 " It appears to me that if you meant to get pos 
 session of what was not yours you might as well get 
 it in the easiest possible way," I objected. " But 
 we need not argue the case. There is a much better 
 reason why you should not consult the count." 
 
 " I do not believe it," said Nino stubbornly. 
 
 " Nevertheless, it is so. The Contessina di Lira 
 is desperately unhappy, and if nothing is done she 
 may die. Young women have died of broken hearts 
 before now. You have no right to endanger her 
 life by risking failure. Answer me that, if you can, 
 and I will grant you are a cunning sophist, but not 
 a good lover." 
 
 " There is reason in what you say now," he an 
 swered. " I had not thought of that desperateness 
 of the case which you speak of. You have seen 
 her." He buried his face in his hand, and seemed 
 to be thinking. 
 
 " Yes, I have seen her, and I wish you had been 
 in my place. You would think differently about 
 asking her father's leave to rescue her." From 
 having been anxious to prevent anything rash, it 
 seemed that I was now urging him into the very 
 jaws of danger. I think that Hedwig's face was 
 before me, as it had been in reality on the previous 
 evening. "As Curione said to Ca3sar, delay is 
 injurious to any one who is fully prepared for ac 
 tion. I remember also to have read somewhere 
 that such waste of time in diplomacy and palaver-
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 261 
 
 ins: is the favorite resource of feeble and timid 
 
 O 
 
 minds, who regard the use of dilatory and ambigu 
 ous measures as an evidence of the most admirable 
 and consummate prudence." 
 
 " Oh, you need not use so much learning with 
 me," said Nino. "I assure you that I will be 
 neither dilatory nor ambiguous. In fact, I will go 
 at once, without even dusting my boots, and I will 
 say, Give me your daughter, if you can ; and if you 
 cannot, I will still hope to marry her. He will 
 probably say ' No,' and then I will carry her off. 
 It appears to me that is simple enough." 
 
 " Take my advice, Nino. Carry her off first, and 
 ask permission afterwards. It is much better. The 
 real master up there is Benoni, I fancy, and not the 
 count. Benoni is a gentleman who will give you 
 much trouble. If you go now to see Hedwig's 
 father, Benoni will be present at the interview." 
 Nino was silent, and sat stretching his legs before 
 him, his head on his breast. " Benoni," I con 
 tinued, " has made up his mind to succeed. He 
 has probably taken this fancy into his head out of 
 pure wickedness. Perhaps he is bored, and really 
 wants a wife. But I believe he is a man who de 
 lights in cruelty and would as lief break the contes- 
 sina's heart by getting rid of you as by marrying 
 her." I saw that he was not listening. 
 
 " I have an idea," he said at last. " You are not 
 very wise, Messer Cornelio, and you counsel me to 
 be prudent and to be rash in the same breath." 
 
 " You make very pretty compliments, Sor Nino,"
 
 262 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 I answered tartly. He put out his hand deprecat- 
 ingly. 
 
 " You are as wise as any man can be who is not 
 in love," he said, looking at me with his great eyes. 
 But love is the best counselor." 
 
 "What is your idea?" I asked, somewhat paci 
 fied. 
 
 " You say they ride together every day. Yes 
 very good. The contessina will not ride to-day; 
 partly because she will be worn out with fatigue 
 from last night's interview, and partly because she 
 will make an effort to discover whether I have ar 
 rived to-day or not. You can count on that." 
 
 " I imagine so." 
 
 " Very well," he continued ; " in that case one of 
 two things will happen : either the count will go out 
 alone, or they will all stay at home." 
 
 " Why will Benoni not go out with the count ? " 
 
 " Because Benoni will hope to see Hedwig alone, 
 if he stays at home, and. the count will be very glad 
 to give him the opportunity." 
 
 "I think you are right, Nino. You are not so 
 stupid as I thought." 
 
 " In war," continued the boy, " a general gains 
 a great advantage by separating his adversary's 
 forces. If the count goes out alone, I will present 
 myself to him in the road, and tell him what I 
 want." 
 
 " Now you are foolish again. You should, on the 
 contrary, enter the house when the count is away, 
 and take the signorina with you then and there.
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 263 
 
 Before he could return you would be miles on the 
 road to Rome." 
 
 " In the first place, I tell you once and for all, 
 Sor Cornelio," he said slowly, " that such an action 
 would be dishonorable, and I will not do anything 
 of the kind. Moreover, you forget that, if I fol 
 lowed your advice, I should find Benoni at home, 
 the very man from whom you think I have every 
 thing to fear. No ; I must give the count one fair 
 chance." I was silent, for I saw he was determined, 
 and yet I would not let him think that I was satis 
 fied. 
 
 ,The idea of losing an advantage by giving an 
 enemy any sort of warning before the attack seemed 
 to me novel in the extreme ; but I comprehended 
 that Nino saw in his scheme a satisfaction to his 
 conscience, and smelled in it a musty odor of forgot 
 ten knight-errantry that he had probably learned 
 to love in his theatrical experiences. I had cer 
 tainly not expected that Nino Cardegna, the peas 
 ant child, would turn out to be the pink of chivalry 
 and the mirror of honor. But I could not help ad 
 miring his courage, and wondering if it would not 
 play him false at the perilous moment. I did not 
 half know him then, though he had been with me 
 for so many years. But I was very anxious to as 
 certain from him what he meant to do, for I feared 
 that his bold action would make trouble, and I had 
 visions of the count and Benoni together taking sud 
 den and summary vengeance on myself. 
 
 " Nino," I said, " I have made great sacrifices to
 
 264 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 help you in finding these people," I would not 
 tell him I had sold my vineyard to make prepara 
 tion for a longer journey, though he has since found 
 it out, " but if you are going to do anything rash 
 I will get on my little ass, and ride a few miles from 
 the village until it is over." Nino laughed aloud. 
 
 " My dear professor," he said, " do not be afraid. 
 I will give you plenty of time to get out of the way. 
 Meanwhile, the contessina is certain to send the 
 confidential servant of whom you speak, to give me 
 instructions. If I am not here, you ought to be, in 
 order to receive the message. Now listen to me." 
 
 I prepared to be attentive and to listen to his 
 scheme. I was by no means expecting the plan he 
 proposed. 
 
 " The count may take it into his head to ride at 
 a different hour, if he rides alone," he began. " I 
 will therefore have my mule saddled now, and will 
 station my man a countryman from Subiaco and 
 good for any devilry in some place where he can 
 watch the entrance to the house, or the castle, or 
 whatever you call this place. So soon as he sees the 
 count come out he will call me. As a man can ride 
 in only one of two directions in this valley, I shall 
 have no trouble whatever in meeting the old gen 
 tleman, even if I cannot overtake him with my 
 mule." 
 
 " Have you any arms, Nino ? " 
 
 "No. I do not want weapons to face an old 
 man in broad daylight ; and he is too much of a 
 soldier to attack me if I am defenceless. If the
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 265 
 
 servant comes after I am gone, you must remember 
 every detail of what he says, and you must also ar 
 range a little matter with him. Here is money, as 
 much as will keep any Roman servant quiet. The 
 man will be rich before we have done with him. 
 I will write a letter, which he must deliver ; but he 
 must also know what he has to do." 
 
 " At twelve o'clock to-night the contessina must 
 positively be at the door of the staircase by which 
 you entered yesterday. Positively do you under 
 stand ? She will then choose for herself between 
 what she is suffering now and flight with me." 
 If she chooses to fly, my mules and my country 
 man will be ready. The servant who admits me 
 had better make the best of his way to Rome, with 
 the money he has got There will be difficulties in 
 the way of getting the contessina to the staircase, 
 especially as the count will be in a towering passion 
 with me, and will not sleep much. But he will not 
 have the smallest idea that I shall act so suddenly, 
 and he will fancy that when once his daughter is 
 safe within the walls for the night she will not 
 think of escaping. I do not believe he even knows 
 of the existence of this staircase. At all events, it 
 appears, from your success in bribing the first man 
 you met, that the servants are devoted to her inter 
 ests and their own, and not at all to those of her 
 father." 
 
 " I cannot conceive, Nino," said I, " why you do 
 not put this bold plan into execution without seeing 
 the count first, and making the whole thing so dan-
 
 266 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 gerous. If he takes alarm in the night, he will 
 catch you fast enough on his good horses, before 
 you are at Trevi." 
 
 "I am determined to act as I proposed," said 
 Nine, " because it is a thousand times more honor 
 able, and because I am certain that the contessina 
 would not have me act otherwise. She will also 
 see for herself that flight is best; for I am sure 
 the count will make a scene of some kind when he 
 comes home from meeting me. If she knows she 
 can escape to-night she will not suffer from what 
 he has to say ; but without the prospect of freedom 
 she would suffer very much." 
 
 " Where did you learn to understand women, my 
 boy ? " I asked. 
 
 " I do not understand women in general," he an 
 swered, " but I understand very well the only wo 
 man who exists for me personally. I know that she 
 is the soul of honor, and that at the same time she 
 has enough common sense to perceive the circum 
 stances of her situation." 
 
 " But how will you make sure of not being over 
 taken ? " I objected, making a last feeble stand 
 against his plan. 
 
 " That is simple enough. My countryman from 
 Subiaco knows every inch of these hills. He says 
 that the pass above Fillettino is impracticable for 
 any animals save men, mules, and donkeys. A 
 horse would roll down at every turn. My mules 
 are the best of their kind, and there are none like
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 267 
 
 them here. By sunrise I shall be over the Serra 
 and well on the way to Ceprano, or whatever place 
 I may choose for joining the railroad." 
 
 " And I ? Will you leave me here to be mur 
 dered by that Prussian devil ? " I asked, in some 
 alarm. 
 
 " Why, no, padre mio. If you like, you can 
 start for Rome at sunset, or as soon as I return 
 from meeting the count ; or you can get on your 
 donkey and go up the pass, where we shall overtake 
 you. Nobody will harm you, in your disguise, and 
 your donkey is even more sure-footed than my 
 mules. It will be a bright night, too, for the 
 moon is full." 
 
 " Well, well, Nino," said I at last, " I suppose 
 you will have your own way, as you always do in 
 the world. And if it must be so, I will go up the 
 pass alone, for I am not afraid at all. It would be 
 against all the proprieties that you should be riding 
 through a wild country alone at night with the 
 young lady you intend to marry ; and if I go with 
 you there will be nothing to be said, for I am a 
 very proper person, and hold a responsible position 
 in Rome. But for charity's sake, do not undertake 
 anything of this kind again ' ' 
 
 " Again ? " exclaimed Nino, in surprise. " Do 
 you expect me to spend my life in getting married, 
 not to say in eloping? " 
 
 " Well, I trust that you will have enough of it 
 this time." 
 
 " I cannot conceive that when a man has once
 
 268 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 married the woman he loves he should ever look at 
 another," said Nino gravely. 
 
 " You are a most blessed fellow," I exclaimed. 
 
 Nino found my writing materials, which con 
 sisted of a bad steel pen, some coarse ruled paper, 
 and a wretched little saucer of ink, and be<ran writ- 
 
 * o 
 
 ing an epistle to the contessina. I watched him as 
 he wrote, and I smoked a little to pass the time. 
 As I looked at him, I came to the conclusion that 
 to-day, at least, he was handsome. His thick hair 
 curled about his head, and his white skin was as 
 pale and clear as milk. I thought that his com 
 plexion had grown less dark than it used to be, 
 perhaps from being so much in the theatre at night. 
 That takes the dark blood out of the cheeks. But 
 any woman would have looked twice at him. Be 
 sides, there was, as there is now, a certain marvel 
 ous neatness and spotlessness about his dress ; but 
 for his dusty boots, you would not have guessed he 
 had been traveling. Poor Nino ! When he had 
 not a penny in the world but what he earned by 
 copying music, he used to spend it all with the 
 washerwoman, so that Mariuccia was often hor 
 rified, and I reproved him for the extravagance. 
 
 At last he finished writing, and put his letter 
 into the only envelope there was left. He gave 
 it to me, and said he would go out and order his 
 mules to be ready. 
 
 " I may be gone all day," he said, " and I may 
 return in a few hours. I cannot tell. In any 
 case, wait for me, and give the letter and all the
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 269 
 
 instructions to the man, if he comes." Then he 
 thanked me once more very affectionately, and 
 having embraced me he went out. 
 
 I watched from the window, and he looked up 
 and waved his hand. I remember it very dis 
 tinctly just how he looked. His face was paler 
 than ever, his lips were close set, though they 
 smiled, and his eyes were sad. He is an incom 
 prehensible boy he always was. 
 
 I was left alone, with plenty of time for medita 
 tion, and I assure you my reflections were not 
 pleasant. O love, love, what madness you drive us 
 into, by day and night ! Surely it is better to be a 
 sober professor of philosophy than to be in love, 
 ever so wildly, or sorrowfully, or happily. I do 
 not wonder that a parcel of idiots have tried to 
 prove that Dante loved philosophy and called it 
 Beatrice. He would have been a sober professor, 
 if that were true, and a happier man. But I am 
 sure it is not true, for I was once in love myself.
 
 XVII. 
 
 IT fell out as Nino had anticipated, and when he 
 told me all the details, some time afterwards, it 
 struck me that he had shown an uncommon degree 
 of intelligence in predicting that the old count 
 would ride alone that day. He had, indeed, so 
 made his arrangements that even if the whole 
 party had come out together nothing worse would 
 have occurred than a postponement of the inter 
 view he sought. But he was destined to get what 
 he wanted that very day, namely, an opportunity of 
 speaking with Von Lira alone. 
 
 It was twelve o'clock when he left me, and the 
 midday bell was ringing from the church, while the 
 people bustled about, getting their food. Every 
 old woman had a piece of corn cake, and the rag 
 ged children got what they could, gathering the 
 crumbs in their mothers' aprons. A few rough 
 fellows who were not away at work in the valley 
 munched the maize bread with a leek and a bit of 
 salt fish, and some of them had oil on it. Our 
 mountain people eat scarcely anything else, unless 
 it be a little meat on holidays, or an egg when the 
 hens are laying. But they laugh and chatter over 
 the coarse fare, and drink a little wine when they 
 can get it. Just now, however, was the season for
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 271 
 
 fasting, being the end of Holy Week, and the peo 
 ple made a virtue of necessity and kept their eggs 
 and their wine for Easter. 
 
 When Nino went out he found his countryman 
 and explained to him what he was to do. The man 
 saddled one of the mules and put himself on the 
 watch, while Nino sat by the fire in the quaint old 
 inn and ate some bread. It was the end of March 
 when these things happened, and a little fire was 
 grateful, though one could do very well without it. 
 He spread his hands to the flame of the sticks, as 
 he sat on the wooden settle by the old hearth, and 
 he slowly gnawed his corn cake, as though a week 
 before he had not been a great man in Paris, din 
 ing sumptuously with famous people. He was not 
 thinking of that. He was looking, in the flame, 
 for a fair face that he saw continually before him, 
 day and night. He expected to wait a long time, 
 some hours, perhaps. 
 
 Twenty minutes had not elapsed, however, before 
 his man came breathless through the door, calling 
 to him to come at once ; for the solitary rider had 
 gone out, as was expected, and at a pace that would 
 soon take him out of sight. Nino threw his corn 
 bread to a hungry dog, that yelped as it hit him, 
 and then fastened on it like a beast of prey. 
 
 In the twinkling of an eye he and his man were 
 out of the inn. As they ran to the place where the 
 mule w r as tied to an old ring in the crumbling wall 
 of a half-ruined house near to the ascent to the 
 castle, the man told Nino that the fine gentleman
 
 272 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 had ridden toward Trevi, down the valley. Nino 
 mounted, and hastened in the same direction. 
 
 As he rode, he reflected that it would be wiser to 
 meet the count on his return, and pass him after 
 the interview, as though going away from Fillet- 
 tino. It would be a little harder for the mule ; 
 but such an animal, used to bearing enormous bur 
 dens for twelve hours at a stretch, could well carry 
 Nino only a few miles of good road before sunset, 
 and yet be fresh again by midnight. One of those 
 great sleek mules, if good-tempered, will tire three 
 horses, and never feel the worse for it. He there 
 fore let the beast go her own pace along the road to 
 Trevi, winding by the brink of the rushing tor 
 rent : sometimes beneath great overhanging cliffs, 
 sometimes through bits of cultivated land, where 
 the valley widens ; and now and then passing under 
 some beech-trees, still naked and skeleton-like in 
 the bright March air. 
 
 But Nino rode many miles, as he thought, with 
 out meeting the count, dangling his feet out of the 
 stirrups, and humming snatches of song to himself 
 to pass the time. He looked at his watch, a beau 
 tiful gold one, given him by a very great personage 
 in Paris, and it was half past two o'clock. Then, 
 to avoid tiring his mule, he got off and sat by a 
 tree, at a place where he could see far along the 
 road. But three o'clock came, and a quarter-past, 
 and he began to fear that the count had gone all 
 the way to Trevi. Indeed, Trevi could not be very 
 far off, he thought. So he mounted again, and
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 273 
 
 paced down the valley. He says that in all that 
 time he never thought once of what he should say 
 to the count when he met him, having determined 
 in his mind once and for all what was to be asked ; 
 to which the only answer must be " yes " or " no." 
 
 At last, before he reached the turn in the valley, 
 and just as the sun was passing down behind the 
 high mountains on the left, beyond the stream, he 
 saw the man he had come out to meet, not a hun 
 dred yards away, riding toward him on his great 
 horse, at a foot pace. It was the count, and he 
 seemed lost in thought, for his head was bent on 
 his breast, and the reins hung carelessly loose from 
 his hand. He did not raise his eyes until he was 
 close to Nino, who took off his hat and pulled up 
 short. 
 
 The old count was evidently very much surprised, 
 for he suddenly straightened himself in his saddle, 
 with a sort of jerk, and glared savagely at Nino ; 
 his wooden features appearing to lose color, and his 
 long mustache standing out and bristling. He also 
 reined in his horse, and the pair sat on their beasts, 
 not five yards apart, eying each other like a pair 
 of duelists. Nino was the first to speak, for he was 
 prepared. 
 
 " Good-day, Signor Conte," he said as calmly 
 as he could. " You have not forgotten me, I am 
 sure." Lira looked more and more amazed, as he 
 observed the cool courtesy with which he was ac 
 costed. But his polite manner did not desert him 
 even then, for he raised his hat. 
 
 18
 
 274 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 "Good-day," lie said, briefly, and made his horse 
 move on. He was too proud to put the animal to 
 a brisker pace than a walk, lest he should seem to 
 avoid an enemy. But Nino turned his mule at the 
 same time. 
 
 " Pardon the liberty, sir," he said, " but I would 
 take advantage of this opportunity to have a few 
 words with you." 
 
 " It is a liberty, as you say, sir," replied Lira, 
 stiffly, and looking straight before him. " But 
 since you have met me, say what you have to say 
 quickly." He talked in the same curious construc 
 tions as formerly, but I will spare you the gram 
 matical vagaries. 
 
 " Some time has elapsed," continued Nino, " since 
 our unfortunate encounter. I have been in Paris, 
 where I have had more than common success in my 
 profession. From being a very poor teacher of 
 Italian to the signorina, your daughter, I am be 
 come an exceedingly prosperous artist. My char 
 acter is blameless and free from all stain, in spite 
 of the sad business in which we were both con 
 cerned, and of which you knew the truth from the 
 dead lady's own lips." 
 
 " What then ? " growled Lira, who had listened 
 grimly, and was fast losing his temper. "What 
 then ? Do you suppose, Signer Cardegna, that I 
 am still interested in your comings and goings ? " 
 
 " The sequel to what I have told you, sir," an 
 swered Nino, bowing again, and looking very grave, 
 "is that I once more most respectfully and hon-
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 275 
 
 estly ask you to give me the hand of your daughter, 
 the Signorina Hedwig von Lira." 
 
 The hot blood flushed the old soldier's hard fea 
 tures to the roots of his gray hair, and his voice 
 trembled as he answered : 
 
 " Do you intend to insult me, sir ? If so, this 
 quiet road is a favorable spot for settling the ques 
 tion. It shall never be said that an officer in the 
 service of his majesty the King and Emperor re 
 fused to fight with any one, with his tailor, if 
 need be." He reined his horse from Nino's side, 
 and eyed him fiercely. 
 
 "Signor Conte," answered Nino calmly, "noth 
 ing could be further from my thoughts than to in 
 sult you, or to treat you in any way with disrespect. 
 And I will not acknowledge that anything you can 
 say can convey an insult to myself." Lira smiled 
 in a sardonic fashion. " But," added Nino, " if it 
 would give you any pleasure to fight, and if you 
 have weapons, I shall be happy to oblige you. It 
 is a quiet spot, as you say, and it shall never be 
 said that an Italian artist refused to fight a German 
 soldier." 
 
 " I have two pistols in my holsters," said Lira, 
 with a smile. " The roads are not safe, and I al 
 ways carry them." 
 
 " Then, sir, be good enough to select one and to 
 give me the other, and we will at once proceed to 
 business." 
 
 The count's manner changed. He looked grave. 
 
 " I have the pistols, Signor Cardegna, but I do
 
 276 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 not desire to use them. Your readiness satisfies me 
 that you are in earnest, and we will therefore not 
 fight for amusement. I need not defend myself 
 from any charge of unwillingness, I believe," he 
 added proudly. 
 
 " In that case, sir," said Nino, " and since we 
 have convinced each other that we are serious and 
 desire to be courteous, let us converse calmly." 
 
 "Have you anything more to say?" asked the 
 count, once more allowing his horse to pace along 
 the dusty road, while Nino's mule walked by his 
 side. 
 
 " I have this to say, Signor Conte," answered 
 Nino : " that I shall not desist from desiring the 
 honor of marrying your daughter, if you refuse me 
 a hundred times. I wish to put it to you whether, 
 with youth, some talent, I speak modestly, and 
 the prospect of a plentiful income, I am not as well 
 qualified to aspire to the alliance as Baron Benoni, 
 who has old age, much talent, an enormous fortune, 
 and the benefit of the Jewish faith into the bar 
 gain." 
 
 The count winced palpably at the mention of 
 Benoni's religion. No people are more insanely 
 prejudiced against the Hebrew race than the Ger 
 mans. They indeed maintain that they have greater 
 cause than others, but it always appears to me that 
 they are unreasonable about it. Benoni chanced to 
 be a Jew, but his peculiarities would have been 
 the same had he been a Christian or an American. 
 There is only one Ahasuerus Benoni in the world.
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 277 
 
 "There is no question of Baron Benoni here," 
 said the count severely, but hurriedly. "Your ob 
 servations are beside the mark. The objections to 
 the alliance, as you call it, are that you are a man 
 of the people, I do not desire to offend you, a 
 plebeian, in fact ; you are also a man of uncertain 
 fortune, like all singers ; and lastly, you are an 
 artist. I trust you will consider these points as a 
 sufficient reason for my declining the honor you 
 propose." 
 
 " I will only say," returned Nino, " that I ven 
 ture to consider your reasons insufficient, though I 
 do not question your decision. Baron Benoni was 
 ennobled for a loan made to a government in diffi 
 culties ; he was, by his own account, a shoemaker 
 by early occupation, and a strolling musician a 
 great artist, if you like by the profession he 
 adopted." 
 
 " I never heard these facts," said Lira, " and I 
 suspect that you have been misinformed. But I 
 do not wish to continue the discussion of the sub 
 ject." 
 
 Nino says that after the incident of the pistols 
 the interview passed without the slightest approach 
 to ill-temper on either side. They both felt that if 
 they disagreed they were prepared to settle their 
 difficulties then and there, without any further ado. 
 
 " Then, sir, before we part, permit me to call 
 your attention to a matter which must be of im 
 portance to you," said Nino. " I refer to the hap 
 piness of the Signorina di Lira. In spite of your
 
 278 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 refusal of my offer, you will understand that the 
 welfare of that lady must always be to me of the 
 greatest importance." 
 
 Lira bowed his head stiffly, and seemed inclined 
 to speak, but changed his mind, and held his tongue, 
 to see what Nino would say. 
 
 " You will comprehend, I am sure," continued 
 the latter, "that in the course of those months 
 during which I was so far honored as to be of ser 
 vice to the contessina, I had opportunities of ob 
 serving her remarkably gifted intelligence. I am 
 now credibly informed that she is suffering from 
 ill health. I have not seen her, nor made any at 
 tempt to see her, as you might have supposed, but 
 I have an acquaintance in Fillettino who has seen 
 her pass his door daily. Allow me to remark that 
 a mind of such rare qualities must grow sick if 
 driven to feed upon itself in solitude. I would re 
 spectfully suggest that some gayer residence than 
 Fillettino would be a sovereign remedy for her ill 
 ness." 
 
 "Your tone and manner," replied the count, 
 "forbid my resenting your interference. I have no 
 reason to doubt your affection for my daughter, but 
 I must request you to abandon all idea of changing 
 my designs. If I choose to bring my daughter to 
 a true sense of her position by somewhat rigorous 
 methods, it is because I am aware that the frailty 
 of reputation surpasses the frailty of woman. I 
 will say this to your credit, sir : that if she has 
 not disgraced herself, it has been in some measure
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 279 
 
 because you wisely forbore from pressing your suit 
 while you were received as an instructor beneath 
 my roof. I am only doing my duty in trying to 
 make her understand that her good name has been 
 seriously exposed, and that the best reparation she 
 can make lies in following my wishes, and accept 
 ing the honorable and advantageous marriage I 
 have provided for her. I trust that this explana 
 tion, which I am happy to say has been conducted 
 with the strictest propriety, will be final, and that 
 you will at once desist from any further attempts 
 toward persuading me to consent to a union that 
 I disapprove." 
 
 Lira once more stopped his horse in the road, 
 and taking off his hat bowed to Nino. 
 
 " And I, sir," said Nino, no less courteously, 
 " am obliged to you for your clearly expressed an 
 swer. I shall never cease to regret your decision, 
 and so long as I live I shall hope that you may 
 change your mind. Good-day, Signer Conte," and 
 he bowed to his saddle. 
 
 " Good-day, Signer Cardegna." So they parted : 
 the count heading homeward toward Fillettino, and 
 Nino turning back toward Trevi. 
 
 By this manoeuvre he conveyed to the count's 
 mind the impression that he had been to Fillettino 
 for the day, and was returning to Trevi for the 
 evening; and in reality the success of his enter 
 prise, since his representations had failed, must de 
 pend upon Hedwig's being comparatively free dur 
 ing the ensuing night. He determined to wait by the
 
 280 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 roadside until it should be dark, allowing his mule 
 to crop whatever poor grass she could find at this 
 season, and thus giving the count time to reach 
 Fillettino, even at the most leisurely pace. 
 
 He sat down upon the root of a tree, and allowed 
 his mule to graze at liberty. It was already grow 
 ing dark in the valley ; for between the long 
 speeches of civility the two had employed and the 
 frequent pauses in the interview, the meeting had 
 lasted the greater part of an hour. 
 
 Nino says that while he watited he reviewed his 
 past life and his present situation. 
 
 Indeed, since he had made his first appearance 
 in the theatre, three months before, events had 
 crowded thick and fast in his life. The first sen 
 sation of a great public success is strange to one 
 who has long been accustomed to live unnoticed 
 and unhonored by the world. It is at first incom 
 prehensible that one should have suddenly grown 
 to be an object of interest and curiosity to one's 
 fellow-creatures, after having been so long a looker- 
 on. At first a man does not realize that the thing 
 he has labored over, and studied, and worked on, 
 can be actually anything remarkable. The pro 
 duction of the every-day task has long grown a 
 habit, and the details which the artist grows to 
 admire and love so earnestly have each brought 
 with them their own reward. Every difficulty van 
 quished, every image of beauty embodied, every 
 new facility of skill acquired, has been in itself a, 
 real and enduring satisfaction for its own sake, and
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 281 
 
 for the sake of its fitness to the whole, the beau 
 tiful perfect whole he has conceived. 
 
 But he must necessarily forget, if he loves his 
 work, that those who come after, and are to see the 
 expression of his thought, or hear the mastery of his 
 song, see or hear it all at once ; so that the assemblage 
 of the lesser beauties, over each of which the artist 
 has had great joy, must produce a suddenly multi 
 plied impression upon the understanding of the 
 outside world, which sees first the embodiment of 
 the thought, and has then the after-pleasure of ap 
 preciating the details. The hearer is thrilled with 
 a sense of impassioned beauty, which the singer 
 may perhaps feel when he first conceives the inter 
 pretation of the printed notes, but which goes ever 
 farther from him as he strives to approach it and 
 realize it ; and so his admiration for his own song 
 is lost in dissatisfaction with the failings which 
 others have not time to see. 
 
 Before he is aware of the change, a singer has 
 become famous, and all men are striving for a sight 
 of him, or a hearing. There are few like Nino, 
 whose head was not turned at all by the flattery 
 and the praise, being occupied with other things. 
 As he sat by the roadside, he thought of the many 
 nights when the house rang with cheers and cries 
 and all manner of applause ; and he remembered 
 how, each time he looked his audience in the face, 
 he had searched for the one face of all faces that 
 .he cared to see, and had searched in vain. 
 
 He seemed now to understand that it was his
 
 282 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 honest-hearted love for the fair northern girl that 
 had protected him from earing for the outer world, 
 and he now realized what the outer world was. He 
 fancied to himself what his first three months of 
 brilliant success might have been, in Rome and 
 Paris, if he had not been bound by some strong tie 
 of the heart to keep him serious and thoughtful. 
 He thought of the women who had smiled upon 
 him, and of the invitations that had besieged him, 
 and of the consternation that had manifested itself 
 when he declared his intention of retiring to Rome, 
 after his brilliant engagement in Paris, without 
 signing any further contract. 
 
 Then came the rapid journey, the excitement, 
 the day in Rome, the difficulties of finding Fillet- 
 tino ; and at last he was here, sitting by the road 
 side, and waiting for it to be time to carry into 
 execution the bold scheme he had set before him. 
 His conscience was at rest, for he now felt that he 
 had done all that the most scrupulous honor could 
 exact of him. He had returned in the midst of his 
 success to make an honorable offer of marriage, and 
 he had been refused because he was a plebeian, 
 forsooth. And he knew also that the woman he 
 loved was breaking her heart for him. 
 
 What wonder that he set his teeth, and said to 
 himself that she should be his, at any price ! Nino 
 has no absurd ideas about the ridicule that attaches 
 to loving a woman, and taking her if necessary. 
 He has not been trained up in the heart to the 
 wretched thing they call society, which ruined me
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 283 
 
 long ago. What he wants he asks for, like a child, 
 and if it is refused, and his good heart tells him 
 that he has a right to it, he takes it, like a man, 
 or like what a man was in the old time before the 
 Englishman discovered that he is an ape. Ah, my 
 learned colleagues, we are not so far removed from 
 the ancestral monkey but that there is serious dan 
 ger of our shortly returning to that primitive and 
 caudal state ! And I think that my boy and the 
 Prussian officer, as they sat on their beasts and 
 bowed, and smiled, and offered to fight each other, 
 or to shake hands, each desiring to oblige the other, 
 like a couple of knights of the old ages, were a trifle 
 further removed from our common gorilla parent 
 age than some of us. 
 
 But it grew dark, and Nino caught his mule 
 and rode slowly back to the town, wondering what 
 would happen before the sun rose on the other side 
 of the world. Now, lest you fail to understand 
 wholly how the matter passed, I must tell you a 
 little of what took place during the time that Nino 
 was waiting for the count, and Hedwig was alone 
 in the castle with Baron Benoni. The way I came 
 to know is this : Hedwig told the whole story to 
 Nino, and Nino told it to me ; but many months 
 after that eventful day, which I shall always con 
 sider as one of the most remarkable in my life. It 
 was Good Friday, last year, and you may find out 
 the day of the month for yourselves.
 
 XVIII. 
 
 As Nino had guessed, the count was glad of a 
 chance to leave his daughter alone with Benoni, 
 and it was for this reason that he had ridden out so 
 early. The baron's originality and extraordinary 
 musical talent seemed to Lira gifts which a woman 
 needed only to see in order to appreciate, and which 
 might well make her forget his snowy locks. Dur 
 ing the time of Benoni's visit the count had not yet 
 been successful in throwing the pair together, for 
 Hedwig's dislike for the baron made her exert her 
 tact to the utmost in avoiding his society. 
 
 It so happened that Hedwig, rising early, and 
 breathing the sweet, cool air from the window of 
 her chamber, had seen Nino ride by on his mule, 
 when he arrived in the morning. He did not see 
 her, for the street merely passed the corner of the 
 great pile, and it was only by stretching her head 
 far out that Hedwig could get a glimpse of it. But 
 it amused her to watch the country people going 
 by, with their mules and donkeys and hampers, or 
 loads of firewood ; and she would often lean over 
 the window-sill for half an hour at a time, gazing 
 at the little stream of mountain life, and sometimes 
 weaving romances about the sturdy brown women 
 and their dark-browed shepherd lovers. Moreover,
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 285 
 
 she fully expected that Nino would arrive that day, 
 and had some faint hope of seeing him go along 
 the road. So she was rewarded, and the sight of 
 the man she loved was the first breath of freedom. 
 
 In a great house like the strange abode Lira had 
 selected for the seclusion of his daughter, it con 
 stantly occurs that one person is in ignorance of 
 the doings of the others ; and so it was natural that 
 when Hedwig heard the clatter of hoofs in the 
 courtyard, and the echoing crash of the great doors 
 as they opened and closed, she should think both 
 her father and Benoni had ridden away, and would 
 be gone for the morning. She would not look out, 
 lest she should see them and be seen. 
 
 I cannot tell you exactly what she felt when she 
 saw Nino from her lofty window, but she was cer 
 tainly glad with her whole heart. If she had not 
 known of his coming from my visit the previous 
 evening, she would perhaps have given way to some 
 passionate outburst of happiness ; but as it was, 
 the feeling of anticipation, the sweet, false dawn of 
 freedom, together with the fact that she was pre 
 pared, took from this first pleasure all that was 
 overwhelming. She only felt that he had come, 
 and that she would soon be saved from Benoni ; 
 she could not tell how, but she knew it, and smiled 
 to herself for the first time in months, as she held a 
 bit of jewelry to her slender throat, before the glass, 
 wondering whether she had not grown too thin and 
 pale to please her lover, who had been courted by 
 the beauties of the world since he had left her.
 
 286 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 She was ill, perhaps, and tired. That was why 
 she looked pale ; but she knew that the first day of 
 freedom would make her as beautiful as ever. She 
 spent the morning hours in her rooms ; but when 
 she heard the gates close, she fancied herself alone 
 in the great house, and went down into the sunny 
 courtyard, to breathe the air, and to give certain 
 instructions to her faithful man. She sent him to 
 my house, to speak with me ; and that was all the 
 message he had, for the present. However, he 
 knew well enough what he was to do. There was 
 a strong smell of bank-notes in the air, and the 
 man kept his nose up. 
 
 Having dispatched this important business, Hed- 
 wig set herself to walk up and down the paved 
 quadrangle, on the sunny side. There was a stone 
 bench in a warm corner, that looked inviting. She 
 entered the house, and brought out a book, with 
 which she established herself to read. She had 
 often longed to sit there in the afternoon and watch 
 the sun creeping across the flags, pursued by the 
 shadow, till each small bit of moss and blade of 
 grass had received its daily portion of warmth. 
 For though the place had been cleared and weeded, 
 the tiny green things still grew in the chinks of 
 the pavement. In the middle of the court was a 
 well, with a cover and yoke of old-fashioned twisted 
 iron, and a pulley to draw the water. The air was 
 bright and fresh outside the castle, but the rever 
 berating rays of the sun made the quiet courtyard 
 warm and still.
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 287 
 
 Sick with her daily torture of mind, the fair, 
 pale girl rested her at last, and, dreaming of liberty, 
 drew strength from the soft stillness. The book 
 fell on her lap, her head leaned back against the 
 rough stones of the wall, and gradually, as she 
 watched from beneath her half-closed lids the play 
 of the stealing sunlight, she fell into a sweet sleep. 
 
 She was soon disturbed by that indescribable 
 uneasiness that creeps through our dreams when 
 we are asleep in the presence of danger. A weird 
 horror possesses us, and makes the objects in the 
 dream appear unnatural. Gradually the terror 
 grows on us and thrills us, and we wake, with brist 
 ling hair and staring eyes, to the hideous conscious 
 ness of unexpected peril. 
 
 Hedwig started and raised her lids, following the 
 direction of her dream. She was not mistaken. 
 Opposite her stood her arch-horror, Benoni. He 
 leaned carelessly against the stone well, and his 
 bright brown eyes were riveted upon her. His tall, 
 thin figure was clad, as usual, in all the extreme 
 of fashion, and one of his long, bony hands toyed 
 with his watch-chain. His animated face seemed 
 aglow with the pleasure of contemplation, and the 
 sunshine lent a yellow tinge to his snowy hair. 
 
 " An exquisite picture, indeed, countess," he said, 
 without moving. " I trust your dreams were as 
 sweet as they looked ? " 
 
 "They were sweet, sir," she answered coldly, 
 after a moment's pause, during which she looked 
 steadily toward him.
 
 288 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 "I regret that I should have disturbed them," 
 he said with a deferential bow ; and he came and 
 sat by her side, treading as lightly as a boy across 
 the flags. Hedwig shuddered, and drew her dark 
 skirts about her, as he sat down. 
 
 " You cannot regret it more than I do," she said, 
 in tones of ice. She would not take refuge in the 
 house, for it would have seemed like an ignomini 
 ous flight. Benoni crossed one leg over the other, 
 and asked permission to smoke, which she granted 
 by an indifferent motion of her fair head. 
 
 " So we are left all alone to-day, countess," re 
 marked Benoni, blowing rings of smoke in the 
 quiet air. 
 
 Hedwig vouchsafed no answer. 
 
 " We are left alone," he repeated, seeing that 
 she was silent, " and I make it hereby my business 
 and my pleasure to amuse you." 
 
 " You are good, sir. But I thank you. I need 
 no entertainment of your devising." 
 
 " That is eminently unfortunate," returned the 
 baron, with his imperturbable smile, " for I am uni 
 versally considered to be the most amusing of mor 
 tals, if, indeed, I am mortal at all, which I some 
 times doubt." 
 
 " Do you reckon yourself with the gods, then ? " 
 asked Hedwig scornfully. " Which of them are 
 you? Jove? Dionysus? Apollo?" 
 
 " Nay, rather Phaethon, who soared too high " 
 
 " Your mythology is at fault, sir, he drove too 
 low ; and besides, he was not immortal."
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 289 
 
 " It is the same. He was wide of the mark, as 
 I am. Tell me, countess, are your wits always so 
 ready ? " 
 
 " You, at least, will always find them so," she an 
 swered bitterly. 
 
 " You are unkind. You stab my vanity, as you 
 have pierced my heart." 
 
 At this speech, Hedwig raised her eyebrows, and 
 stared at him in silence. Any other man would 
 have taken the chilling rebuke, and left her. Benoni 
 put on a sad expression. 
 
 " You used not to hate me as you do now," he 
 said. 
 
 " That is true. I hated you formerly because I 
 hated you." 
 
 " And now ? " asked Benoni, with a short laugh. 
 
 "I hate you now because I loathe you." She 
 uttered this singular saying indifferently, as being 
 part of her daily thoughts. 
 
 " You have the courage of your opinions, coun 
 tess," he replied, with a very bitter smile. 
 
 "Yes? It is the only courage a woman need 
 have." There was a pause, during which Benoni 
 puffed much smoke and stroked his white mus 
 tache. Hedwig turned over the leaves of her book, 
 as though hinting to him to go. But he had no 
 idea of that. A man who will not go because a 
 woman loathes him will certainly not leave her for 
 a hint. 
 
 " Countess," he began again, at last, " will you 
 listen to me ? " 
 
 19
 
 290 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 " I suppose I must. I presume my father has 
 left you here to insult me at your noble leisure." 
 
 " Ah, countess, dear countess," she shrank 
 away from him, " you should know me better 
 than to believe me capable of anything so mon 
 strous. I insult you ? Gracious Heaven ! I, who 
 adore you ; who worship the holy ground whereon 
 you tread; who would preserve the precious air 
 you have breathed, in vessels of virgin crystal; 
 who would give a drop of my blood for every word 
 you vouchsafe me, kind or cruel, I, who look on 
 you as the only divinity in this desolate heathen 
 world, who reverence you and do you daily homage, 
 who adore you " 
 
 " You manifest your adoration in a singular 
 manner, sir," said Hedwig, interrupting him with 
 something of her father's severity. 
 
 " I show it as best I can," the old scoundrel 
 pleaded, working himself into a passion of words. 
 " My life, my fortune, my name, my honor, I 
 cast them at your feet. For you I will be a hermit, 
 a saint, dwelling in solitary places and doing good 
 works ; or I will brave every danger the narrow 
 earth holds, by sea and land, for you. What? 
 Am I decrepit, or bent, or misshapen, that 'my 
 white hair should cry out against me? Am I 
 hideous, or doting, or half-witted, as old men are ? 
 I am young ; I am strong, active, enduring. I 
 have all the gifts, for you." 
 
 The baron was speaking French, and perhaps 
 these wild praises of himself might pass current in
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 291 
 
 a foreign language. But when Nino detailed the 
 conversation to me in our good, simple Italian 
 speech, it sounded so amazingly ridiculous that I 
 nearly broke my sides with laughing. 
 
 Hedwig laughed also, and so loudly that the 
 foolish old man was disconcerted. He had suc 
 ceeded in amusing her sooner than he had expected. 
 As I have told you, the baron is a most impulsive 
 person, though he is poisoned with evil from his 
 head to his heart. 
 
 " All women are alike," he said, and his manner 
 suddenly changed. 
 
 " I fancy," said Hedwig, recovering from her 
 merriment, " that if you address them as you have 
 addressed me you will find them very much alike 
 indeed." 
 
 "What good can women do in the world?" 
 sighed Benoni, as though speaking with himself. 
 " You do nothing but harm with your cold calcula 
 tions and your bitter jests." Jledwig was silent. 
 " Tell me," he continued presently, " if I speak 
 soberly, by the card as it were, will you listen to 
 me?" 
 
 " Oh, I have said that I will listen to you ! " 
 cried Hedwig, losing patience. 
 
 " Hedwig von Lira, I hereby offer you my for 
 tune, my name, and myself. I ask you to marry 
 me of your own good-will and pleasure." Hedwig 
 once more raised her brows. 
 
 " Baron Benoni, I will not marry you, either for 
 your fortune, your name, or yourself, nor for any
 
 292 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 other consideration under heaven. And I will ask 
 you not to address me by my Christian name." 
 There was a long silence after this speech, and 
 Benoni carefully lighted a second cigarette. Iled- 
 wig would have risen and entered the house, but 
 she felt safer in the free air of the sunny court. 
 As for Benoni, he had no intention of going. 
 
 " I suppose you are aware, countess," he said at 
 last, coldly eyeing her, " that your father has set 
 his heart upon our union ? " 
 
 " I am aware of it." 
 
 " But you are not aware of the consequences 
 of your refusal. I am your only chance of free 
 dom. Take me, and you have the world at your 
 feet. Refuse me, and you will languish in this 
 hideous place so long as your affectionate father 
 pleases." 
 
 " Do you know my father so little, sir," asked 
 Hedwig very proudly, " as to suppose that his 
 daughter will ever yield to force?" 
 
 " It is one thing to talk of not yielding, and it is 
 quite another to bear prolonged suffering with con 
 stancy," returned Benoni coolly, as though he were 
 discussing a general principle instead of expound 
 ing to a woman the fate she had to expect if she 
 refused to marry him. " I never knew any one 
 who did not talk bravely of resisting torture until 
 it was applied. Oh, you will be weak at the end, 
 countess, believe me. You are weak now, and 
 changed, though perhaps you would be better 
 pleased if I did not notice it. Yes, I smile now,
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 293 
 
 I laugh. I can afford to. You can be merry 
 over me because I love you, but I can be merry at 
 what you must suffer if you will not love me. Do 
 not look so proud, countess. You know what fol 
 lows pride, if the proverb lies not." 
 
 During this insulting speech Hedwig had risen 
 to her feet, and in the act to go she turned and 
 looked at him in utter scorn. She could not com 
 prehend the nature of a man who could so coldly 
 threaten her. If ever any one of us can fathom 
 Benoni's strange character, we may hope to under 
 stand that phase of it along with the rest. He 
 seemed as indifferent to his own mistakes and 
 follies as to the sufferings of others. 
 
 " Sir," she said, " whatever may be the will of 
 my father, I will not permit you to discuss it, still 
 less to hold up his anger as a threat to scare me. 
 You need not follow me," she added, as he rose. 
 
 " I will follow you, whether you wish it or not, 
 countess," he said fiercely ; and as she flew across 
 the court to the door he strode swiftly by her side, 
 hissing his words into her ear. " I will follow you 
 to tell you that I know more of you than you think, 
 and I know how little right you have to be so 
 proud. 1 know your lover. I know of your meet 
 ings, your comings and your goings " They 
 reached the door, but Benoni barred the way with 
 his long arm, and seemed about to lay a hand upon 
 her wrist, so that she shrank back against the 
 heavy doorpost, in an agony of horror and loathing 
 and wounded pride. "I know Cardegna, and I
 
 294 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 knew the poor baroness, who killed herself because 
 he basely abandoned her. Ah, you never heard 
 the truth before? I trust it is pleasant to you. 
 As he left her, he has left you. He will never 
 come back. I saw him in Paris three weeks ago. 
 I could tell tales not fit for your ears. And for 
 him you will die in this horrible place, unless you 
 consent. For him you have thrown away every 
 thing, name, fame, and happiness, unless you 
 will take all these from me. Oh, I know, you 
 will cry out that it is untrue ; but my eyes are 
 good, though you call me old ! For this treacher 
 ous boy, with his curly hair, you have lost the only 
 thing that makes woman human, your reputa 
 tion ! " And Benoni laughed that horrid laugh of 
 his, till the court rang again, as though there were 
 devils in every corner, and beneath every eave, and 
 everywhere. 
 
 People who are loud in their anger are sometimes 
 dangerous, for it is genuine while it lasts. People 
 whose anger is silent are generally either incapable 
 of honest wrath or cowards. But there are some 
 in the world whose passion shows itself in few 
 words but strong ones, and proceeds instantly to 
 action. 
 
 Hedwig had stood back against the stone casing 
 of the entrance, at first, overcome with the intensity 
 of what she suffered. But as Benoni laughed she 
 moved slowly forwards till she was close to him, 
 and only his outstretched arm barred the door 
 way.
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 295 
 
 " Every word you have spoken is a lie, and you 
 know it. Let me pass, or I will lull you with my 
 hands!" 
 
 The words came low and distinct to his excited 
 ear, like the tolling of a passing bell. Her face 
 must have been dreadful to see, and Benoni was 
 suddenly fascinated and terrified at the concen 
 trated anger that blazed in her blue eyes. His arm 
 dropped to his side, and Hedwig passed proudly 
 through the door, in all the majesty of innocence, 
 gathering her skirts, lest they should touch his feet 
 or any part of him. She never hastened her step 
 as she ascended the broad stairs within and went to 
 her own little sitting-room, made gay with books 
 and flowers and photographs from Rome. Nor 
 was her anger followed by any passionate outburst 
 of tears. She sat herself down by the window and 
 looked out, letting the cool breeze from the open 
 casement fan her face. 
 
 Hedwig, too, had passed through a violent scene 
 that day, and, having conquered, she sat down to 
 think over it. She reflected that Benoni had but 
 used the same words to her that she had daily 
 heard from her father's lips. False as was their 
 accusation, she submitted to hearing her father 
 speak them, for she had no knowledge of their im 
 port, and only thought him cruelly hard with her. 
 But that a stranger above all, a man who as 
 pired, or pretended to aspire, to her hand should 
 attempt to usurp the same authority of speech was 
 beyond all human endurance. She felt sure that
 
 296 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 her father's anger would all be turned against Be- 
 noni when he heard her story. 
 
 As for what her tormentor had said of Nino, she 
 could have killed him for saying it, but she knew 
 that it was a lie ; for she loved Nino with all her 
 heart, and no one can love wholly without trusting 
 wholly. Therefore she put away the evil sugges 
 tion from herself, and loaded all its burden of 
 treachery upon Benoni. 
 
 How long she sat by the window, compelling her 
 strained thoughts into order, no one can tell. It 
 might have been an hour, or more, for she had lost 
 the account of the hours. She was roused by a 
 knock at the door of her sitting-room, and at her 
 bidding the man entered who, for the trifling con 
 sideration of about a thousand francs, first and last, 
 made communication possible between Hedwig and 
 myself. 
 
 This man's name is Temistocle, Themistocles, 
 no less. All servants are Themistocles, or Orestes, 
 or Joseph, just as all gardeners are called Antonio. 
 Perhaps he deserves some description. He is a 
 type, short, wiry, and broad-shouldered, with a cun 
 ning eye, a long, hooked nose, and plentiful black 
 y whiskers, and coarse, closely cropped black hair. 
 His motions are servile to the last degree, and he 
 addresses every one in authority as " excellency," 
 on the principle that it is better to give too much 
 titular homage than too little. He is as wily as 
 a fox, and so long as you have money in your 
 pocket, as faithful as a hound and as silent as the
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 297 
 
 grave. I perceive that these are precisely the 
 epithets at which the baron scoffed, saying that a 
 man can be praised only by comparing him with 
 the higher animals, or insulted by comparison with 
 himself and his kind. We call a man a fool, an 
 idiot, a coward, a liar, a traitor, and many other 
 things applicable only to man himself. However, I 
 will let my description stand, for it is a very good 
 one ; and Temistocle could be induced, for money, 
 to adapt himself to almost any description, and he 
 certainly had earned, at one time or another, most 
 of the titles I have enumerated. 
 
 He told me, months afterwards, that when he 
 passed through the courtyard, on his way to Hed- 
 wig's apartment, he found Benoni seated on the 
 stone bench, smoking a cigarette and gazing into 
 space, so that he passed close before him without 
 being; noticed.
 
 XIX. 
 
 TEMISTOCLE closed the door, then opened it 
 again, and looked out, after which he finally shut 
 it, and seemed satisfied. He advanced with cau 
 tious tread to where Hedwig sat by the window. 
 
 " Well? What have you done ? " she inquired, 
 without looking at him. It is a hard thing for a 
 proud and noble girl to be in the power of a ser 
 vant. The man took Nino's letter from his pocket, 
 and handed it to her upon his open palm. Hedwig 
 tried hard to take it with indifference, but she ac 
 knowledges that her fingers trembled and her heart 
 beat fast. 
 
 " I was to deliver a message to your excellency, 
 from the old gentleman," said Temistocle, coming 
 close to her and bending down. 
 
 " Ah ! " said Hedwig, opening the envelope. 
 
 " Yes, excellency. He desired me to say that it 
 was absolutely and most indubitably necessary that 
 your excellency should be at the little door to-night 
 at twelve o'clock. Do not fear, Signora Contes- 
 sina ; we can manage it very well." 
 
 " I do not wish to know what you advise me to 
 fear, or not to fear," answered Hedwig, haughtily ; 
 for she could not bear to feel that the man should 
 counsel her or encourage her.
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 299 
 
 " Pardon, excellency ; I thought " began Te- 
 mistocle humbly ; but Hedwig interrupted him. 
 
 " Temistocle," she said, " I have no money to 
 give you, as I told you yesterday. But here is an 
 other stone, like the other. Take it, and arrange 
 this matter as best you can." 
 
 Temistocle took the jewel and bowed to the 
 ground, eying curiously the little case from which 
 she had taken it. 
 
 " I have thought and combined everything," he 
 said. " Your excellency will see that it is best you 
 should go alone to the staircase ; for, as we say, a 
 mouse makes less noise than a rat. When you 
 have descended, lock the door at the top behind 
 you ; and when you reach the foot of the staircase, 
 keep that door open. I will have brought the old 
 gentleman, by that time, and you will let me in. I 
 shall go out by the great gate." 
 
 " Why not go with me? " inquired Hedwig. 
 
 " Because, your excellency, one person is less 
 likely to be seen than two. Your excellency will 
 let me pass you. I will mount the staircase, unlock 
 the upper door, and change the key to the other 
 side. Then I will watch, and if any one comes I 
 will lock the door and slip away till he is gone." 
 
 " I do not like the plan," said Hedwig. " I 
 would rather let myself in from the staircase." 
 
 " But suppose any one were waiting on the inside, 
 and saw you come back? " 
 
 " That is true. Give me the keys, Temistocle, 
 and a taper and some matches."
 
 300 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 " Your excellency is a paragon of courage," re 
 plied the servant, obsequiously. " Since yesterday 
 I have carried the keys in my pocket. I will bring 
 you the taper this evening." 
 
 " Bring it now. I wish to be ready." 
 
 Temistocle departed on the errand. When he 
 returned, Hedwig ordered him to give a message to 
 her father. 
 
 " When the count comes home, ask him to see 
 me," she said. Temistocle bowed once more, and 
 was gone. 
 
 Yes, she would see her father, and tell him 
 plainly what she had suffered from Benoni. She 
 felt that no father, however cruel, would allow his 
 daughter to be so treated, and she would detail the 
 conversation to him. 
 
 She had not been able to read Nino's letter, for 
 she feared the servant, knowing the writing to be 
 Italian and legible to him. Now she hastened to 
 drink in its message of love. You cannot suppose 
 that I know exactly what he said, but he certainly 
 set forth at some length his proposal that she 
 should leave her father, and escape with her lover 
 from the bondage in which she was now held. He 
 told her modestly of his success, in so far as it was 
 necessary that she should understand his position. 
 It must have been a very eloquent letter, for it 
 nearly persuaded her to a step of which she had 
 wildly dreamed, indeed, but which in her calmer 
 moments she regarded as impossible. 
 
 The interminable afternoon was drawing to a
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 301 
 
 close, and once more she sat by the open window, 
 regardless of the increasing cold. Suddenly it all 
 came over her, the tremendous importance of the 
 step she was about to take, if she should take Nino 
 at his word, and really break from one life into an 
 other. The long-restrained tears, that had been 
 bound from flowing through all Benoni's insults 
 and her own anger, trickled silently down her 
 cheek, no longer pale, but bright and flushed at the 
 daring thought of freedom. 
 
 At first it seemed far off, as seen in a magician's 
 glass. She looked, and saw herself as another per 
 son, acting a part only half known and half under 
 stood. But gradually her own individual soul en 
 tered into the figure of her imagination ; her eager 
 heart beat fast ; she breathed and moved and 
 acted in the future. She was descending the dark 
 steps alone, listening with supernatural sense of 
 sound for her lover's tread without. It came ; the 
 door opened, and she was in his arms, in those 
 strong arms that could protect her from insult and 
 tyranny and cruel wooing ; out in the night, on the 
 road, in Eome, married, free and made blessed for 
 ever. On a sudden the artificial imagery of her 
 laboring brain fell away, and the thought crossed 
 her mind that henceforth she must be an orphan. 
 Her father would never speak to her again, or ever 
 own for his a daughter that had done such a deed. 
 Like icy water poured upon a fevered body, the 
 idea chilled her and woke her to reality. 
 
 Did she love her father ? She had loved him,
 
 302 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 yes, until she crossed his will. She loved him still, 
 when she could be so horror-struck at the thought 
 of incurring his lasting anger. Could she bear it ? 
 Could she find in her lover all that she must re 
 nounce of a father's care and a father's affection, 
 stern affection, that savored of the despot, but 
 could she hurt him so ? 
 
 The image of her father seemed to take another 
 shape, and gradually to assume the form and fea 
 tures of the one man of the world whom she hated, 
 converting itself little by little into Benoni. She 
 hid her face in her hands, and terror staunched the 
 tears that had flown afresh at the thought of or 
 phanhood. 
 
 A knock at the door. She hastily concealed the 
 crumpled letter. 
 
 " Come in ! " she answered boldly ; and her 
 father, moving mechanically, with his stick in his 
 hand, entered the room. He came as he had dis 
 mounted from his horse, in his riding boots, and 
 his broad felt hat caught by the same fingers that 
 held the stick. 
 
 " You wished to see me, Hedwig," he said coldly, 
 depositing his hat upon the table. Then, when he 
 had slowly sat himself down in an armchair, he 
 added, " Here I am." Hedwig had risen respect 
 fully, and stood before him in the twilight. " What 
 do you wish to say ? " he asked in German. " You 
 do not often honor your father by requesting his 
 society." 
 
 Hedwig stood one moment in silence. Her first
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 303 
 
 impulse was to throw herself at his feet, and im 
 plore him to let her marry Nino. The thought 
 swept away for the time the remembrance of Be- 
 noni and of what she had to tell. But a second 
 sufficed to give her the mastery of her tongue and 
 memory, which women seldom lose completely, even 
 at the most desperate moments. 
 
 " I desired to tell you," she said, " that Baron 
 Benoni took advantage of your absence to-day to 
 insult me beyond my endurance." She looked 
 boldly into her father's eyes as she spoke. 
 
 " Ah ! " said he, with great coolness. " Will you 
 be good enough to light one of those candles 011 the 
 table, and to close the window ? " 
 
 Hedwig obeyed in silence, and once more planted 
 herself before him, her slim figure looking ghostly 
 between the fading light of the departing day and 
 the yellow flame of the candle. 
 
 " You need not assume this theatrical air," said 
 Lira calmly. " I presume you mean that Baron 
 Benoni asked you to marry him? " 
 
 " Yes, that is one thing, and is an insult in it 
 self," replied Hedwig, without changing her posi 
 tion. 
 
 " I suspect that it is the principal thing," re 
 marked the count. " Very good ; he asked you to 
 marry him. He has my full authority to do so. 
 What then?" 
 
 " You are my father," answered Hedwig, stand 
 ing like a statue before him, " and you have the 
 right to offer me whom you please for a husband.
 
 304 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 But you have no authority to allow me to be wan 
 tonly insulted." 
 
 " J think that you are out of your mind," said 
 the count, with imperturbable equanimity. " You 
 grant that I may propose a suitor to you, and you 
 call it a wanton insult when that suitor respectfully 
 asks the honor of your hand, merely because he is 
 not young enough to suit your romantic tastes, 
 which have been fostered by this wretched south 
 ern air. It is unfortunate that my health requires 
 me to reside in Italy. Had you enjoyed an orderly 
 Prussian education, you would have held different 
 views in regard to filial duty. Refuse Baron Be- 
 noni as often as you like. I will stay here, and so 
 will he, I fancy, until you change your mind. I 
 am not tired of this lordly mountain scenery, and 
 my health improves daily. We can pass the sum 
 mer and winter, and more summers and winters, 
 very comfortably here. If there is anything you 
 would like to have brought from Rome, inform me, 
 and I will satisfy any reasonable request." 
 
 " The baron has already had the audacity to in 
 form me that you would keep me a prisoner until 
 I should marry him," said Hedwig ; and her voice 
 trembled as she remembered how Benoni had told 
 her so. 
 
 " I doubt not that Benoni, who is a man of con 
 summate tact, hinted delicately that he would not 
 desist from pressing his suit. You, well knowing 
 my determination, and carried away by your evil 
 temper, have magnified into a threat what he never
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 305 
 
 intended as such. Pray let me hear no more about 
 these fancied insults." The old man smiled grimly 
 at his keen perception. 
 
 " You shall hear me, nevertheless," said Hedwig 
 in a low voice, coming close to the table, and rest 
 ing one hand upon it as though for support. 
 
 " My daughter," said the count, " I desire you 
 to abandon this highly theatrical and melodramatic 
 tone. I am not to be imposed upon." 
 
 " Baron Benoni did not confine himself to the 
 course you describe. He said many things to me 
 that I did not understand, but I comprehended 
 their import. He began by making absurd speech 
 es, at which I laughed. Then he asked me to marry 
 him, as I had long known he would do as soon as 
 you gave him the opportunity. I refused his offer. 
 Then he insisted, saying that you, sir, had deter 
 mined on this marriage, and would keep me a close 
 prisoner here until the torture of the situation broke 
 down my strength. I assured him that I would 
 never yield to force. Then he broke out angrily, 
 telling me to my face that I had lost everything, 
 name, fame, and honor, how, I cannot tell ; but 
 he said those words, adding that I could regain 
 my reputation only by consenting to marry him." 
 
 The old count had listened at first with a sarcas 
 tic smile, then with increased attention. Finally, 
 as Hedwig repeated the shameful insult, his brave 
 old blood boiled up in his breast, and he sat grip 
 ping the two arms of his chair fiercely, while his 
 gray eyes shot fire from beneath the shaggy brows. 
 
 20
 
 306 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 " Hedwig," he cried hoarsely, " are you speaking 
 the truth ? Did he say those words ? " 
 / " Yes, my father, and more like them. Are you 
 surprised ? " she asked bitterly. " You have said 
 them yourself to me." 
 
 The old man's rage rose furiously, and he strug 
 gled to his feet. He was stiff with riding and 
 rheumatism, but he was too angry to sit still. 
 
 " I ? Yes, I have tried to show you what might 
 have happened, and to warn you and frighten you, 
 as you should be frightened. Yes, and I was right, 
 for you shall not drag my name in the dirt. But 
 another man, Benoni ! " He could not speak, 
 for his wrath, and his tall figure moved rapidly 
 about the room, his heart seeking expression in ac 
 tion. He looked like some forgotten creature of 
 harm, suddenly galvanized into destructive life. It 
 was well that Benoni was not within reach. 
 
 Hedwig stood calmly by the table, proud in her 
 soul that her father should be roused to such fury. 
 The old man paused in his walk, came to her, and 
 with his hand turned her face to the light, gazing 
 savagely into her eyes. 
 
 " You never told me a lie," he growled out. 
 
 " Never," she said boldly, as she faced him scorn 
 fully. He knew his own temper in his child, and 
 was satisfied. The soldier's habit of self-control 
 was strong in him, and the sardonic humor of his 
 nature served as a garment to the thoughts he har 
 bored. 
 
 " It appears," he said, " that I am to spend the
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 307 
 
 remainder of an honorable life in fighting with a 
 pack of hounds. I nearly killed your old acquaint 
 ance, the Signer Professore Cardegna, this after 
 noon." Hedwig staggered back, and turned pale. 
 
 " What ! Is he wounded ? " she gasped out, press 
 ing her hand to her side. 
 
 " Ha ! That touches you almost as closely as 
 Benoni's insult," he said savagely. " I am glad of 
 it. I repent me, and wish that I had killed him. 
 We met on the road, and he had the impertinence 
 to ask me for your hand, I am sick of these daily 
 proposals of marriage ; and then I inquired if he 
 meant to insult me." 
 
 Hedwig leaned heavily upon the table, in an 
 agony of suspense. 
 
 " The fellow answered that if I were insulted he 
 was ready to fight then and there, in the road, with 
 my pistols. He is no coward, your lover, I will 
 say that. The end of it was that I came home, and 
 he did not." 
 
 Hedwig sank into the chair that her father had 
 left, and hid her face. 
 
 " Oh, you have killed him ! " she moaned. 
 
 " No," said the count shortly ; " I did not touch 
 a hair of his head. But he rode away toward 
 Trevi." Hedwig breathed again. " Are you sat 
 isfied ? " he asked, with a hard smile, enjoying the 
 terror he had excited. 
 
 " Oh, how cruel you are, my father ! " she said, 
 in a broken voice. 
 
 " I tell you that if I could cure you of your in-
 
 308 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 sane passion for this singer fellow, I would be as 
 cruel as the Inquisition," retorted the count. " Now 
 listen to me. You will not be troubled any longer 
 with Benoni, the beast ! I will teach him a les 
 son of etiquette. You need not appear at dinner 
 to-night. But you are not to suppose that our resi 
 dence here is at an end. When you have made up 
 your mind to act sensibly, and to forget the Signor 
 Cardegna, you shall return to society, where you 
 may select a husband of your own position and for 
 tune, if yo\t* choose ; or you may turn Romanist, 
 and go into a convent, arpl devote yourself to good 
 works and idolatry, or anything else. I do not pre 
 tend to care what becomes of you, so long as you 
 show any decent respect for your name. But if you 
 persist in pining and moaning and starving yourself, 
 because I will not allow you to turn dancer and 
 marry a strolling player, you will have to remain 
 here. I am not such pleasant company when I am 
 bored, I can tell you, and my enthusiasm for the 
 beauties of nature is probably transitory." 
 
 " I can bear anything, if you will remove Be 
 noni," said Hedwig quietly, as she rose from her 
 seat. But the pressure of the iron keys that she 
 had hidden, in her bosom gave her a strange sen 
 sation. 
 
 "Never fear," said the count, taking his hat 
 from the table. " You shall be amply avenged of 
 Benoni and his foul tongue. I may not love my 
 daughter, but no one shall insult her. I will have 
 a word with him this evening."
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 309 
 
 " I thank you for that, at least," said Hedwig, as 
 he moved to the door. 
 
 " Do not mention it," said he, and put his hand 
 on the lock. 
 
 A sudden impulse seized Hedwig. She ran 
 swiftly to him, and clasped her hands upon his arm. 
 
 " Father ! " she cried, pleadingly. 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " Father, do you love me ? " He hesitated one 
 moment. 
 
 " No," he said sternly ; " you disobey me ; " and 
 he went out in rough haste. The door closed be 
 hind him, and she was left standing alone. What 
 could she do, poor child ? For months he had tor 
 mented her and persecuted her, and now she had 
 asked him plainly if she still held a place in his 
 heart, and he had coldly denied it. 
 
 A gentle, tender maiden, love-sick and mind-sick, 
 yearning so piteously for a little mercy, or sym 
 pathy, or kindness, and treated like a mutinous sol 
 dier, because she loved so honestly and purely, 
 is it any wonder that her hand went to her bosom 
 and clasped the cold, hard keys that promised her 
 life and freedom ? I think not. I have no patience 
 with young women who allow themselves to be 
 carried away by an innate bad taste and love for 
 effect, quarreling with the peaceful destiny that a 
 kind Providence has vouchsafed them, and with an 
 existence which they are too dull to make interest 
 ing to themselves or to any one else ; finally mak 
 ing a desperate and foolish dash at notoriety by a
 
 310 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 runaway marriage with the first scamp they can 
 find, and repenting in poverty and social ostracism 
 the romance they conceived in wealth and luxury. 
 They deserve their fate. But when a sensitive girl 
 is motherless, cut off from friends and pleasures, 
 presented with the alternative of solitude or mar 
 riage with some detested man, or locked up to for 
 get a dream which was half realized and very sweet, 
 then the case is different. If she breaks her bonds, 
 and flies to the only loving heart she knows, forgive 
 her, and pray Heaven to have mercy on her, for 
 she takes a fearful leap into the dark. 
 
 Hedwig felt the keys, and took them from her 
 dress, and pressed them to her cheek, and her mind 
 was made up. She glanced at the small gilt clock, 
 and saw that the hands pointed to seven. Five 
 hours were before her in which to make her prep 
 arations, such as they could be. 
 
 In accordance with her father's orders, given 
 when he left her, Temistocle served her dinner in 
 her sitting-room ; and the uncertainty of the night's 
 enterprise demanded that she should eat something, 
 lest her strength should fail at the critical moment. 
 Temistocle volunteered the information that her 
 father had gone to the baron's apartment, and had 
 not been seen since. She heard in silence, and 
 bade the servant leave her as soon as he had minis 
 tered to her wants. Then she wrote a short letter 
 to her father, telling him that she had left him, 
 since he had no place for her in his heart, and that 
 she had gone to the one man who seemed ready
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 311 
 
 both to love and to protect her. This missive she 
 folded, sealed, and laid in a prominent place upon 
 the table, addressed to the count. 
 
 She made a small bundle, very neatly, for she 
 is clever with her fingers, and put on a dark 
 traveling dress, in the folds of which she sewed 
 such jewels as were small and valuable and her 
 own. She would take nothing that her father had 
 given her. In all this she displayed perfect cool 
 ness and foresight. 
 
 The castle became intensely quiet as the evening 
 advanced. She sat watching the clock. At five 
 minutes before midnight she took her bundle and 
 her little shoes in her hand, blew out her candle, 
 and softly left the room.
 
 XX. 
 
 I NEED not tell you how I passed all the time 
 from Nino's leaving me until he came back in the 
 evening, just as I could see from my window that 
 the full moon was touching the tower of the castle. 
 I sat looking out, expecting him, and I was the 
 most anxious professor that ever found himself in 
 a ridiculous position. Temistocle had come, and 
 you know what had passed between us, and how we 
 had arranged the plan of the night. Most heartily 
 did I wish myself in the little amphitheatre of my 
 lecture-room at the University, instead of being 
 pledged to this wild plot of my boy's invention. 
 But there was no drawing back. I had been my 
 self to the little stable next door, where I had kept 
 my donkey, and visited him daily since my arrival, 
 and I had made sure that I could have him at a 
 moment's notice by putting on the cumbrous saddle. 
 Moreover, I had secretly made a bundle of my ef 
 fects, and had succeeded in taking it unobserved to 
 the stall, and I tied it to the pommel. I also told 
 my landlady that I was going away in the morn 
 ing, with the young gentleman who had visited me, 
 and who, I said, was the engineer who was going 
 to make a new road to the Serra. This was not 
 quite true ; but lies that hurt no one are not lies at
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 313 
 
 all, as you all know, and the curiosity of the old 
 woman was satisfied. I also paid for my lodging, 
 and gave her a franc for herself, which pleased her 
 very much. I meant to steal away about ten o'clock, 
 or as soon as I had seen Nino and communicated 
 to him the result of my interview with Temistocle. 
 
 The hours seemed endless, in spite of my prep 
 arations, which occupied some time ; so I went 
 out when I had eaten my supper, and visited my 
 ass, and gave him a little bread that was left, 
 thinking it would strengthen him for the journey. 
 Then I came back to my room, and watched. Just 
 as the moonlight was shooting over the hill, Nino 
 rode up the street. I knew him in the dusk by his 
 broad hat, and also because he was humming a 
 little tune through his nose, as he generally does. 
 But he rode past my door without looking up, for 
 he meant to put his mule in the stable for a rest. 
 
 At last he came in, still humming, and apolo 
 gized for the delay, saying he had stopped a few 
 minutes at the inn to get some supper. It could 
 not have been a very substantial meal that he ate, 
 in that short time. 
 
 " What did the man say ? " was his first ques 
 tion, as he sat down. 
 
 " He said it should be managed as I desired," 
 I answered. " Of course I did not mention you. 
 Temistocle that is his name will come at mid 
 night, and take you to the door. There you will find 
 this inamorata, this lady-love of yours, for whom 
 you are about to turn the world upside down." .
 
 314 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 "What will you do yourself, Sor Cornelio?" 
 he asked, smiling. 
 
 " I will go now and get my donkey, and quietly 
 ride up the valley to the Serra di Sant' Antonio," 
 I said. " I am sure that the signorina will be more 
 at her ease if I accompany you. I am a very proper 
 person, you see." 
 
 " Yes," said Nino pensively, " you are very 
 proper. And besides, you can be a witness of the 
 civil marriage." 
 
 " Diavolo ! " I cried, " a marriage ! I had not 
 thought of that." 
 
 " Blood of a dog ! " exclaimed Nino, " what on 
 earth did you think of ? " lie was angry all in a 
 moment. 
 
 " Piano, do not disquiet yourself, my boy. I 
 had not realized that the wedding was so near, 
 that is all. Of course you will be married in Rome, 
 as soon as ever we get there." 
 
 " We shall be married in Ceprano to-morrow 
 night, by the Sindaco, or the mayor, or whatever 
 civil bishop they support in that God-forsaken Nea 
 politan town," said Nino, with great determination. 
 
 " Oh, very well ; manage it as you like. Only 
 be careful that it is properly done, and have it reg 
 istered," I added. " Meanwhile, I will start." 
 
 " You need not go yet, caro mio ; it is not nine 
 o'clock." 
 
 " How far do you think I ought to go, Nino ? " 
 I inquired. To tell the truth, the idea of going up 
 the Serra alone was not so attractive in the even-
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 315 
 
 ing as it had been in the morning light. I thought 
 it would be very dark among those trees, and I had 
 still a great deal of money sewn between my waist 
 coats. 
 
 "'Oh, you need not go so very far," said Nino. 
 " Three or four miles from the town will be enough. 
 I will wait in the street below, after eleven." 
 
 We sat in silence for some time afterwards, and 
 if I was thinking of the gloomy ride before me, I 
 am sure that Nino was thinking of Hedwig. Poor 
 fellow ! I dare say he was anxious enough to see 
 her, after being away for two months, and spend 
 ing so many hours almost within her reach. He 
 sat low in his chair, and the dismal rays of the 
 solitary tallow candle cast deep shadows on his 
 thoughtful face. Weary, perhaps, with waiting and 
 with long travel, yet not sad, but very hopeful, he 
 looked. No fatigue could destroy the strong, manly 
 expression of his features, and even in that squalid 
 room, by the miserable light, dressed in his plain 
 gray clothes, he was still the man of success, who 
 could hold thousands in the suspense of listening to 
 his slightest utterance. Nino is a wonderful man, 
 and I am convinced that there is more in him than 
 music, which is well enough when one can be as 
 great as he, but is not all the world holds. I am 
 sure that massive head of his was not hammered so 
 square and broad, by the great hands that forge 
 the thunderbolts of nations, merely that he should 
 be a tenor and an actor, and give pleasure to his 
 fellow-men. I see there the power and the strength
 
 316 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 of a broader mastery than that which bends the 
 ears of a theatre audience. One day we may see 
 it. It needs the fire of hot times to fuse the ele 
 ments of greatness in the crucible of revolution. 
 There is not such another head in all Italy as 
 Nino's that I ever have seen, and I have seen the 
 best in Rome. He looked so grand, as he sat there, 
 thinking over the future. I am not praising his 
 face for its beauty ; there is little enough of that, 
 as women might judge. And besides, you will 
 laugh at my ravings, and say that a singer is a 
 singer, and nothing more, for all his life. Well, 
 we shall see in twenty years ; you will, perhaps 
 I shall not. 
 
 "Nino," I asked irrelevantly, following my own 
 train of reflection, " have you ever thought of any 
 thing but music and love ? " He roused himself 
 from his reverie, and stared at me. 
 
 " How should you be able to guess my thoughts ? " 
 he asked at last. 
 
 "People who have lived much together often 
 read each other's minds. What were you thinking 
 of?" Nino sighed, and hesitated a moment before 
 he answered. 
 
 " I was thinking," he said, " that a musician's 
 destiny, even the highest, is a poor return for a 
 woman's love." 
 
 " You see : I was thinking of you, and wonder 
 ing whether, after all, you will always be a singer." 
 
 "That is singular," he answered slowly. "I 
 was reflecting how utterly small my success on the
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 317 
 
 stage will look to me when I have married Hedwig 
 von Lira." 
 
 " There is a larger stage, Nino mio, than yours." 
 
 " I know it," said he, and fell back in his chair 
 again, dreaming. 
 
 I fancy that at any other time we might have 
 fallen into conversation and speculated on the good 
 old-fashioned simile which likens life to a comedy, 
 or a tragedy, or a farce. But the moment was ill 
 chosen, and we were both silent, being much pre 
 occupied with the immediate future. 
 
 A little before ten I made up my mind to start. 
 I glanced once more round the room to see if I had 
 left anything. Nino was still sitting in his chair, 
 his head bent, and his eyes staring at the floor. 
 
 " Nino," I said, " I am going now. Here is an 
 other candle, which you will need before long, for 
 these tallow things are very short." Indeed, the 
 one that burned was already guttering low in the 
 old brass candlestick. Nino rose and shook him 
 self. 
 
 " My dear friend," he said, taking me by both 
 hands, "you know that I am grateful to you. I 
 thank you, and thank you again, with all my heart. 
 Yes, you ought to go now, for the time is approach 
 ing. We shall join you, if all goes well, by one 
 o'clock." 
 
 " But, Nino, if you do not come ? " 
 
 " I will come, alone, or with her. If if I 
 should not be with you by two in the morning, go 
 on alone, and get out of the way. It will be be-
 
 318 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 cause I am caught by that old Prussian devil. 
 Good-by." He embraced me affectionately, and I 
 went out. A quarter of an hour later I was out of 
 the town, picking my way, with my little donkey, 
 over the desolate path that leads toward the black 
 Serra. The clatter of the beast's hoofs over the 
 stones kept time with the beatings of my heart, and 
 I pressed my thin legs close to his thinner sides for 
 company. 
 
 When Nino was left alone, and all this I know 
 from him, he sat again in the chair, and medi 
 tated ; and although the time of the greatest event 
 in his life was very near, he was so much absorbed 
 that hq was startled when he looked at his watch 
 and found that it was half past eleven. He had 
 barely time to make his preparations. His man 
 was warned, but was waiting near the inn, not 
 knowing whe're he was required, as Nino himself 
 had not been to ascertain the position of the lower 
 door, fearing lest he might be seen by Benoni. He 
 now hastily extinguished the light, and let himself 
 out of the house without noise. He found his coun 
 tryman ready with the mules, ordered him to come 
 with him, and returned to the house, instructing 
 him to follow and wait at a short distance from 
 the door he would enter. Muffled in his cloak, he 
 stood in the street, awaiting the messenger from 
 Hedwig. 
 
 The crazy old clock of the church tolled the hour, 
 and a man wrapped in a nondescript garment, be 
 tween a cloak and an overcoat, stole along the
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 319 
 
 moonlit street to where Nino stood, in front of my 
 lodging. 
 
 " Temistocle ! " called Nino, in a low voice, as 
 the fellow hesitated. 
 
 "Excellency" answered the man, and then 
 drew back. " You are not the Signor Grandi ! " 
 he cried, in alarm. 
 
 " It is the same thing," replied Nino. " Let us 
 go." 
 
 " But how is this ? " objected Temistocle, seeing 
 a new development. "It was the Signor Grandi 
 whom I was to conduct." Nino was silent, but 
 there was a crisp sound in the air as he took a 
 bank-note from his pocket-book. " Diavolo ! " mut 
 tered the servant, " perhaps it may be right, after 
 all." Nino gave him the note. 
 
 " That is my passport," said he. 
 
 " I have doubts," answered Temistocle, taking 
 it, nevertheless, and examining it by the moonlight. 
 "It has no visa" he added, with a cunning leer. 
 Nino gave him another. Then Temistocle had no 
 more doubts. 
 
 " I will conduct your excellency," he said. They 
 moved away, and Temistocle was so deaf that he 
 did not hear the mules and the tramp of the man 
 who led them, not ten paces behind him. 
 
 Passing round the rock, they found themselves 
 in the shadow ; a fact which Nino noted with much 
 satisfaction, for he feared lest some one might be 
 keeping late hours in the castle. The mere noise 
 of the mules would attract no attention in a moun-
 
 320 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 tain town, where the country people start for their 
 distant work at all hours of the day and night. 
 They came to the door. Nino called softly to the 
 man with the mules to wait in the shadow, and 
 Temistocle knocked at the door. The key ground 
 in the lock from within, but the hands that held it 
 seemed weak. Nino's heart beat fast. 
 
 " Temistocle ! " called Hedwig's trembling voice. 
 
 " What is the matter, your excellency ? " asked 
 the servant through the keyhole, not forgetting his 
 manners. 
 
 " Oh, I cannot turn the key ! "What shall I 
 do?" 
 
 Nino heard and pushed the servant aside. 
 
 " Courage, my dear lady," he said, aloud, that 
 she might know his voice. Hedwig appeared to 
 make a frantic effort, and a little sound of pain es 
 caped her as she hurt her hands. 
 
 " Oh, what shall I do ! " she cried piteously. " I 
 locked it last night, and now I cannot turn the 
 key!" 
 
 Nino pressed with all his weight against the 
 door. Fortunately it was strong, or he would have 
 broken it in, and it would have fallen upon her. 
 But it opened outward and was heavily bound with 
 iron. Nino groaned. 
 
 " Has your excellency a taper ? " asked Temisto 
 cle suddenly, forcing his head between Nino's body 
 and the door, in order to be heard. 
 
 " Yes. I put it out." 
 
 "And matches? " he asked again.
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 321 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Then let your excellency light the taper, and 
 drop some of the burning 1 wax on the end of the 
 key. It will be like oil." There was a silence. 
 The key was withdrawn, and a light appeared 
 through the hole where it had been. Nino instantly 
 fastened his eye to the aperture, hoping to catch a 
 glimpse of Hedwig. But he could not see any 
 thing save two white hands trying to cover the key 
 with wax. He withdrew his eye quickly, as the 
 hands pushed the key through again. 
 
 Again the lock groaned, a little sob of effort, 
 another trial, and the bolts flew back to their sock 
 ets. The prudent Temistocle, who did not wish to 
 be a witness of what followed, pretended to exert 
 gigantic strength in pulling the door open, and 
 Nino, seeing him, drew back a moment, to let him 
 pass. 
 
 " Your excellency need only knock at the upper 
 door," he said to Hedwig, " and I will open. I will 
 watch, lest any one should enter from above." 
 
 "You may watch till the rising of the dead," 
 thought Nino, and Hedwig stood aside on the nar 
 row step while Temistocle went up. One instant 
 more, and Nino was at her feet, kissing the hem 
 of her dress, and speechless with happiness, for his 
 tears of joy flowed fast. 
 
 Tenderly Hedwig bent to him, and laid her two 
 hands on his bare head, pressing down the thick 
 and curly hair with a trembling, passionate mo 
 tion. 
 
 21
 
 322 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 " Signer Cardegna, you must not kneel there, 
 nay, sir, I know you love me ! Would I have 
 come to you else ? Give me your hand now 
 do not kiss it so hard no Oh, Nino, my own 
 dear Nino " 
 
 What should have followed in her gentle speech 
 is lacking, for many and most sweet reasons. I 
 need not tell you that the taper was extinguished, 
 and they stood locked in each other's arms against 
 the open door, with only the reflection of the moon 
 from the houses opposite to illuminate their meet 
 ing- 
 There was and is to me something divinely per 
 fect and godlike in these two virgin hearts, each so 
 new to their love, and each so true and spotless of 
 all other. I am old to say sweet things of loving. 
 But I cannot help it ; for though I never was as 
 they are, I have loved much in my time. Like our 
 own dear Leopardi, I loved not the woman, but the 
 angel which is the type of all women, and whom 
 not finding I perished miserably as to my heart. 
 But in my breast there is still the temple where the 
 angel dwelt, and the shrine is very fragrant still 
 with the divine scent of the heavenly roses that 
 were about her. I think, also, that all those who 
 love in this world must have such a holy place of 
 worship in their hearts. Sometimes the kingdom of 
 the soul and the palace of the body are all Love's, 1 
 made beautiful and rich with rare offerings of great 
 constancy and faith ; and all the countless creations 
 of transcendent genius, and all the vast aspirations
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 323 
 
 of far-reaching power, go up in reverent order to do 
 homage at Love's altar, before they come forth, like 
 giants, to make the great world tremble and reel in 
 its giddy grooves. 
 
 And with another it is different. The world is 
 not his ; he is the world's, and all his petty doings 
 have its gaudy stencil blotched upon them. Yet 
 haply even he has a heart, and somewhere in its 
 fruitless fallows stands a poor ruin, that never was 
 of much dignity at its best, poor and broken, and 
 half choked with weeds and briers ; but even thus 
 the weeds are fragrant herbs, and the briers are 
 wild roses, of few and misshapen petals, but sweet 
 nevertheless. For this ruin was once a shrine, too, 
 that his mean hands and sterile soul did try most 
 ineffectually to build up as a shelter for all that 
 was ever worthy in him. 
 
 Now, therefore, I say, Love, and love truly and 
 long, even forever ; and if you can do other 
 things well, do them ; but if not, at least learn to do 
 that, for it is a very gentle thing, and sweet in the 
 learning. Some of you laugh at me, and say, Be 
 hold this old-fashioned driveler, who does not even 
 know that love is no longer in the fashion ! By 
 Saint Peter, Heaven will soon be out of the fashion, 
 too, and Messer Satanas will rake in the just and 
 the unjust alike, so that he need 110 longer fast on 
 Fridays, having a more savory larder! And no 
 doubt some of you will say that hell is really so anti 
 quated that it should be put in the museum at the 
 University of Rome, for a curious old piece of theo-
 
 324 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 logical furniture. Truth ! it is a wonder it is not 
 worn out with digesting the tough morsels it gets, 
 when people like you are finally gotten rid of from 
 this world ! But it is made of good material, and 
 will last, never fear ! This is not the gospel of 
 peace, but it is the gospel of truth. 
 
 Loving hearts and gentle souls shall rule the 
 world some day, for all your pestiferous fashions ; 
 and old as I am, I do not mean aged, but well on 
 in years, I believe in love still, and I always will. 
 It is true it was not given to me to love as Nino 
 loves Hedwig, for Nino is even now a stronger, 
 sterner man than I. His is the nature that can 
 never do enough ; his the hands that never tire for 
 her ; his the art that would surpass, for her, the 
 stubborn bounds of possibility. He is never weary 
 of striving to increase her joy of him. His philos 
 ophy is but that. No quibbles of " being " and 
 " not being " or wretched speculations concerning 
 the object of existence ; he has found the true uni 
 ty of unities, and he holds it fast. 
 
 Meanwhile, you object that I am not proceeding 
 with my task, and telling you more facts, recounting 
 more conversations, and painting more descriptions 
 Believe me, this one fact, that to love well is to be 
 all man can be, is greater than all the things men 
 have ever learned and classified in the dictionaries. 
 It is, moreover, the only fact that has consistently 
 withstood the ravages of time and social revolu 
 tion ; it is the wisdom that has opened, as by 
 magic, the treasures of genius, of goodness, and of
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 325 
 
 all greatness, for every one to see ; it is the vital 
 elixir that has made men of striplings, and giants 
 of cripples, and heroes of the poor in heart though 
 great in spirit. Nino is an example : for he was 
 but a boy, yet he acted like a man ; a gifted artist 
 in a great city, courted by the noblest, yet he kept 
 his faith. 
 
 But when I have taken breath I will tell you 
 what he and Hedwig said to each other at the gate, 
 and whether at the last she went with him, or 
 stayed in dismal Fillettino for her father's sake.
 
 XXI. 
 
 " LET us sit upon the step and talk," said Hed- 
 wig, gently disengaging herself from his arms. 
 
 " The hour is advancing, and it is damp here, 
 my love. You will be cold," said Nino, protesting 
 against delay as best he could. 
 
 " No ; and I must talk to you." She sat down, 
 but Nino pulled off his cloak and threw it round 
 her. She motioned him to sit beside her, and raised 
 the edge of the heavy mantle with her hand. " I 
 think it is big enough," said she. 
 
 " I think so," returned Nino ; and so the pair sat 
 side by side and hand in hand, wrapped in the 
 same garment, deep in the shadow of the rocky 
 door-way. "You got my letter, dearest?" asked 
 Nino, hoping to remind her of his proposal. 
 
 "Yes, it reached me safely. Tell me, Nino, 
 have you thought of me in all this time ? "- she 
 asked, in her turn ; and there was the joy of the 
 answer already in the question. 
 
 " As the earth longs for the sun, my love, through 
 all the dark night. You have never been out of my 
 thoughts. You know that I went away to find you 
 in Paris, and I went to London, -too ; and every 
 where I sang to you, hoping you might be some 
 where in the great audiences. But you never went
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 327 
 
 to Paris at all. When I got Professor Grandi's 
 letter saying that he had discovered you, I had but 
 one night more to sing, and then I flew to you." 
 
 "And now you have found me," said Hedwig, 
 looking lovingly up to him through the shadow. 
 
 " Yes, dear one ; and I have come just in time. 
 You are in great trouble now, and I am here to save 
 you from it all. Tell me, what is it all about ? " 
 
 " Ah, Nino dear, it is very terrible. My father 
 declared I must marry Baron Benoni, or end my 
 days here, in this dismal castle." Nino ground his 
 teeth, and drew her even closer to him, so that her 
 head rested on his shoulder. 
 
 " Infamous wretch ! " he muttered. 
 
 " Hush, Nino," said Hedwig gently ; " he is my 
 father." 
 
 " Oh, I mean Benoni, of course," exclaimed Nino 
 quickly. 
 
 " Yes, dear, of course you do," Hedwig responded. 
 "But my father has changed his mind. He no 
 longer wishes me to marry the Jew." 
 
 " Why is that, sweetheart ? " 
 
 " Because Benoni was very rude to me to-day, 
 and I told my father, who said he should leave the 
 house at once." 
 
 " I hope he will kill the hound! " cried Nino, with 
 rising anger. "And I am glad your father has still 
 the decency to protect you from insult." 
 
 " My father is very unkind, Nino mio, but he is 
 an officer and a gentleman." 
 
 " Oh, I know what that means, a gentleman I
 
 328 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 Fie on your gentlemen ! Do you love me less, Hed 
 wig, because I am of the people ? " 
 
 For all answer Hedwig threw her arms round his 
 neck passionately. 
 
 " Tell me, love, would you think better of me if 
 I were noble ? " 
 
 " Ah, Nino, how most unkind ! Oh, no : I love 
 you, and for your sake I love the people, the 
 strong, brave people, whose man you are." 
 
 " God bless you, dear, for that," he answered ten. 
 derly. " But say, will your father take you back 
 to Rome, now that he has sent away Benoni ? " 
 
 " No, he will not. He swears that I shall stay 
 here until I can forget you." The fair head rested 
 again on his shoulder. 
 
 " It appears to me that your most high and noble 
 father has amazingly done perjury in his oath," re 
 marked Nino, resting his hand on her hair, from 
 which the thick black veil that had muffled it had 
 slipped back. " What do you think, love ? " 
 
 " I do not know," replied Hedwig, in a low voice. 
 
 " Why, dear, you have only to close this door be 
 hind you, and you may laugh at your prison and 
 your jailer ! " 
 
 " Oh, I could not, Nino ; and besides, I am weak, 
 and cannot walk very far. And we should have to 
 walk very far, you know." 
 
 " You, darling ? Do you think I would not and 
 could not bear you from here to Rome in these 
 arms ? " As he spoke he lifted her bodily from the 
 step.
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 329 
 
 " Oh ! " she cried, half frightened, half thrilled, 
 "how strong you are, Nino ! " 
 
 " Not I ; it is my love. But I have beasts close 
 by, waiting even now ; good stout mules, that will 
 think you are only a little silver butterfly that has 
 flitted down from the moon for them to carry." 
 
 " Have you done that, dear ? " she asked doubt 
 fully, while her heart leaped at the thought. " But 
 my father has horses," she added, on a sudden, in a 
 very anxious voice. 
 
 " Never fear, my darling. No horse could scratch 
 a foothold in the place where our mules are as safe 
 as in a meadow. Come, dear heart, let us be go 
 ing." But Hedwig hung her head, and did not stir. 
 " What is it, Hedwig? " he asked, bending down to 
 her and softly stroking her hair. " Are you afraid 
 of me?" 
 
 " No, oh, no ! Not of you, Nino, never of 
 you ! " She pushed her face close against him, 
 very lovingly. 
 
 " What then, dear ? Everything is ready for us. 
 Why should we wait ? " 
 
 " Is it quite right, Nino ? " 
 
 " Ah, yes, love, it is right, the Tightest right 
 that ever was ! How can such love as ours be 
 wrong ? Have I not to-day implored your father to 
 relent and let us marry ? I met him in the road " 
 
 " He told me, dear. It was brave of you. And 
 he frightened me by making me think he had killed 
 you. Oh, I was so frightened, you do not know ! " 
 
 " Cruel " Nino checked the rising epithet.
 
 330 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 " He is your father, dear, and I must not speak my 
 mind. But since he will not let you go, what will 
 you do ? Will you cease to love me, at his orders ? " 
 
 " Oh, Nino, never, never, never ! " 
 
 " But will you stay here, to die of solitude and 
 slow torture? " he pleaded passionately. 
 
 "I I suppose so, Nino," she said, in a choking 
 sob. 
 
 " Now, by Heaven, you shall not ! " He clasped 
 her in his arms, raising her suddenly to her feet. 
 Her head fell back upon his shoulder, and he could 
 see her turn pale to the very lips, for his sight was 
 softened to the gloom, and her eyes shone like stars 
 of fire at him from beneath the half-closed lids. 
 But the faint glory of coming happiness was already 
 on her face, and he knew that the last fight was 
 fought for love's mastery. 
 
 " Shall we ever part again, love ? " he whispered, 
 close to her. She shook her head, her starry eyes 
 still fastened on his. 
 
 " Then come, my own dear one, come," and he 
 gently drew her with him. He glanced, naturally 
 enough, at the step where they had sat, and some 
 thing dark caught his eye just above it. Holding 
 her hand in one of his, as though fearful lest she 
 should escape him, he stooped quickly and snatched 
 the thing from the stair with the other. It was 
 Hedwig's little bundle. 
 
 "What have you here ? " he asked. " Oh, Hed- 
 wig, you said you would not come ! " he added, half 
 laughing, as he discovered what it was.
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 331 
 
 " I was not sure that I should like you, Nino," 
 she said, as he again put his arm about her. Hed 
 wig started violently. "What is that?" she ex 
 claimed, in a terrified whisper. 
 
 "What, love?" 
 
 " The noise ! Oh, Nino, there is some one on 
 the staircase, coming down. Quick, quick ! 
 Save me, for love's sake ! " 
 
 But Nino had heard, too, the clumsy but rapid 
 groping of heavy feet on the stairs above, far up 
 in the winding stone steps, but momentarily coming 
 nearer. Instantly he pushed Hedwig out to the 
 street, tossing the bundle on the ground, withdrew 
 the heavy key, shut the door, and double-turned 
 the lock from the outside, removing the key again 
 at once. Nino is a man who acts suddenly and 
 infallibly in great emergencies. He took Hedwig 
 in his arms, and ran with her to where the mules 
 were standing, twenty yards away. 
 
 The stout countryman from Subiaco, who had 
 spent some years in breaking stones out of con 
 sideration for the government, as a general con 
 fession of the inaccuracy of his views regarding 
 foreigners, was by no means astonished when he 
 saw Nino appear with a woman in his arms. 
 Together they seated her on one of the mules, 
 and ran beside her, for there was no time for Nino 
 to mount. They had to pass the door, and through 
 all its oaken thickness they could hear the curses 
 and imprecations of some one inside, and the wood 
 and iron shook with repeated blows and kicks. The
 
 332 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 quick-witted muleteer saw the bundle lying where 
 Nino had tossed it, and he picked it up as he ran. 
 
 Both Nino and Hedwig recognized Benoni's 
 voice, but neither spoke as they hurried up the 
 street into the bright moonlight, she riding and 
 Nino running as he led the other beast at a sharp 
 trot. In five minutes they were out of the little 
 town, and Nino, looking back, could see that the 
 broad white way behind them was clear of all pur 
 suers. Then he himself mounted, and the country 
 man trotted by his side. 
 
 Nino brought his mule close to Hedwig's. She 
 was an accomplished horsewoman, and had no diffi 
 culty in accommodating herself to the rough coun 
 try saddle. Their hands met, and the mules, long 
 accustomed to each other's company, moved so 
 evenly that the gentle bond was not broken. But 
 although Hedwig's fingers twined lovingly with 
 his, and she often turned and looked at him from 
 beneath her hanging veil, she was silent for a long 
 time. Nino respected her mood, half guessing what 
 she felt, and no sound was heard save an occasional 
 grunt from the countryman as he urged the beasts, 
 and the regular clatter of the hoofs on the stony 
 road. 
 
 To tell the truth, Nino was overwhelmed with 
 anxiety; for his quick wits had told him that 
 Benoni, infuriated by the check he had received, 
 would lose no time in remounting the stairs, sad 
 dling a horse, and following them. If only they 
 could reach the steeper part of the ravine, they
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 333 
 
 could bid defiance to any horse that ever galloped, 
 for Benoni must inevitably come to grief if he at 
 tempted a pursuit into the desolate Serra. He saw 
 that Hedwig had not apprehended the danger, when 
 once the baron was stopped by the door, conceiving 
 in her heart the impression that he was a prisoner 
 in his own trap. Nevertheless, they urged the 
 beasts onward hotly, if one may use the word of the 
 long, heavy trot of a mountain mule. The sturdy 
 countryman never paused or gasped for breath, 
 keeping pace in a steady, determined fashion. 
 
 But they need not have been disturbed, for Hed- 
 wig's guess was nearer the truth than Nino's rea 
 soning. They knew it later, when Temistocle found 
 them in Rome, and I may as well tell you how it 
 happened. When he reached the head of the 
 staircase, he took the key from the one side to the 
 other, locked the door, as agreed, and sat down to 
 wait for Hedwig's rap. He indeed suspected that 
 it would never come, for he had only pretended 
 not to see the mules ; but the prospect of further 
 bribes made him anxious not to lose sight of his 
 mistress, and certainly not to disobey her, in case 
 she really returned. The staircase opened into the 
 foot of the tower, a broad stone chamber, with un- 
 glazed windows. 
 
 Temistocle sat himself down to wait on an old 
 bench that had been put there, and the light of the 
 full moon made the place as bright as day. Now 
 the lock on the door was rusty, like the one below, 
 and creaked loudly every time it was turned. But
 
 334 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 Temistocle fancied it would not be heard in the 
 great building, and felt quite safe. Sitting there, 
 he nodded and fell asleep, tired with the watching. 
 
 Benoni had probably passed a fiery half hour 
 with the count. But I have no means of knowing 
 what was said on either side ; at all events, he was 
 in the castle still, and, what is more, he was awake. 
 When Hedwig opened the upper door and closed it 
 behind her, the sound was distinctly audible to his 
 quick ears, and he probably listened and speculated, 
 and finally yielded to his curiosity. 
 
 However this may have been, he found Temis 
 tocle asleep in the tower basement, saw the key in 
 the lock, guessed whence the noise had come, and 
 turned it. The movement woke Temistocle, who 
 started to his feet, and recognized the tall figure of 
 the baron just entering the door. Too much con 
 fused for reflection, he called aloud, and the baron 
 disappeared down the stairs. Temistocle listened 
 at the top, heard distinctly the shutting and locking 
 of the lower door, and a moment afterwards Be- 
 noni's voice, swearing in every language at once, 
 came echoing up. 
 
 " They have escaped," said Temistocle to himself. 
 "If I am not mistaken, I had better do the same." 
 With that he locked the upper door, put the key in 
 his pocket, and departed on tiptoe. Having his hat 
 and his overcoat with him, and his money in his 
 pocket, he determined to leave the baron shut up in 
 the staircase. He softly left the castle by the front 
 gate, of which he knew the tricks, and he was not
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 335 
 
 heard of for several weeks afterwards. As for Be- 
 noni, he was completely caught, and probably spent 
 the remainder of the night in trying to wake the 
 inmates of the building. So you see that Nino 
 need not have been so much disturbed, after all. 
 
 While these things were happening Nino and 
 Hedwig got fairly away, and no one but a moun 
 taineer of the district could possibly have overtaken 
 them. Just as they reached the place where the 
 valley suddenly narrows to a gorge, the countryman 
 spoke. It was the first word that had been uttered 
 by any of the party in an hour, so great had been 
 their haste and anxiety. 
 
 " I see a man with a beast," he said, shortly. 
 
 " So do I," answered Nino. " I expect to meet 
 a friend here." Then he turned to Hedwig. " Dear 
 one," he said, " we are to have a companion now, 
 who says he is a very proper person." 
 
 " A companion? " repeated Hedwig, anxiously. 
 
 " Yes. We are to have the society of no less a 
 person than the Professor Cornelio Grandi, of the 
 University of Rome. He will go with us, and be a 
 witness." 
 
 " Yes," said Hedwig, expecting more, " a wit 
 ness " 
 
 " A witness of our marriage, dear lady ; I trust 
 to-morrow, or to-day, since midnight is past." 
 He leaned far over his saddle-bow, as the mules 
 clambered up the rough place. Her hand went out 
 to him, and he took it. They were so near that I 
 could see them. He dropped the reins and bared
 
 336 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 his head, and so, riding, he bent himself still fur 
 ther, and pressed his lips upon her hand ; and that 
 was all the marriage contract that was sealed be 
 tween them. But it was enough. 
 
 There I sat, upon a stone in the moonlight, just 
 below the trees, waiting for them. And there I had 
 been for two mortal hours and more, left to medi 
 tate upon the follies of professors in general and of 
 myself in particular. I was beginning to wonder 
 whether Nino would come at all, and I can tell you 
 I was glad to see the little caravan. Ugh ! it is an 
 ugly place to be alone in ! 
 
 They rode up, and I went forward to meet 
 them. 
 
 " Nino mio," said T, " you have made me pass a 
 terrible time here. Thank Heaven, you are come ; 
 and the contessina, too ! Your most humble ser 
 vant, signorina." I bowed low and Hedwig bent 
 a little forward, but the moon was just behind her, 
 and I could not see her face. 
 
 " I did not think we should meet so soon, Sig- 
 nor Grandi. But I am very glad." There was a 
 sweet shyness in the little speech that touched me. 
 I am sure she was afraid that it was not yet quite 
 right, or at least that there should be some other 
 lady in the party. 
 
 " Courage, Messer Cornelio," said Nino. " Mount 
 your donkey, and let us be on our way." 
 
 " Is not the contessina tired ? " I inquired. " You 
 might surely rest a little here." 
 
 " Caro mio," answered Nino, " we must be safe
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 337 
 
 at the top of the pass before we rest. We were so 
 unfortunate as to wake his excellency the Baron 
 Benoni out of some sweet dream or other, and per 
 haps he is not far behind us." 
 
 An encounter with the furious Jew was not pre 
 cisely attractive to me, and I was on my donkey be 
 fore you could count a score. I suggested to Nino 
 that it would be wiser if the countryman led the 
 way through the woods, and I followed him. Then 
 the contessina would be behind me, and Nino would 
 bring up the rear. It occurred to me that the 
 mules might outstrip my donkey, if I went last, 
 and so I might be left to face the attack, if any 
 came ; whereas, if I were in front, the others could 
 not go any faster than I. 
 22
 
 XXII. 
 
 THE gorge rises steep and precipitous between 
 the lofty mountains on both sides, and it is fortu 
 nate that we had some light from the moon, which 
 was still high at two o'clock, being at the full. 
 
 It is a ghastly place enough. In the days of the 
 Papal States the Serra di Sant' Antonio, as it is 
 called, was the shortest passage to the kingdom of 
 Naples, and the frontier line ran across its summit. 
 To pass from one dominion to the other it would 
 be necessary to go out of the way some forty or fifty 
 miles, perhaps, unless one took this route ; and the 
 natural consequence was that outlaws, smugglers, 
 political fugitives, and all such manner of men 
 found it a great convenience. Soldiers were sta 
 tioned in Fillettino and on the other side, to check 
 illicit traffic and brigandage, and many were the 
 fights that were fought among these giant beeches. 
 
 The trees are of primeval dimensions, for no one 
 has yet been enterprising enough to attempt to fell 
 the timber. The gorge is so steep, and in many 
 places so abruptly precipitous, that the logs could 
 never be removed ; and so they have grown undis 
 turbed for hundreds of years, rotting and falling 
 away as they stand. The beech is a lordly tree, 
 with its great smooth trunk and its spreading
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 389 
 
 branches, and though it never reaches the size of 
 the chestnut, it is far more beautiful and long- 
 lived. 
 
 Here and there, at every hundred yards or so, it 
 seemed to me, the countryman would touch his hat 
 and cross himself as he clambered up the rocky 
 path, and then I did likewise ; for there was always 
 some rude cross or rough attempt at the inscription 
 of a name at such spots, which marked where a man 
 had met his untimely end. Sometimes the moon 
 beams struggled through the branches, still bare of 
 leaves, and fell on a few bold initials and a date ; 
 and sometimes we came to a broad ledge where no 
 trees were, but only a couple of black sticks tied at 
 right angles for a cross. It was a dismal place, and 
 the owls hooted at us. 
 
 Besides, it grew intensely cold towards morning, 
 so that the countryman wanted to stop and make a 
 fire to warm ourselves. Though it was the end of 
 March, the ground was frozen as hard as any stone 
 wherever it was free from rocks. But Nino dis 
 mounted, and insisted upon wrapping his cloak 
 about Hedwig; and then he walked, for fear of 
 catching cold, and the countryman mounted his 
 mule and clambered away in front. In this way 
 Hedwig and Nino lagged behind, conversing in low 
 tones that sounded very soft ; and when I looked 
 round, I could see how he held his hand on her sad 
 dle and supported her in the rough places. Poor 
 child, who would have thought she could bear such 
 terrible work! But she had the blood of a sol-
 
 340 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 dierly old race in her veins, and would have strug 
 gled on silently till she died. 
 
 I think it would be useless to describe every 
 stone on the desolate journey, but when the morn 
 ing dawned we were at the top, and we found the 
 descent much easier. The rosy streaks came first, 
 quite suddenly, and in a few minutes the sun was 
 up, and the eventful night was past. I was never 
 so glad to get rid of a night in my life. It is for 
 tunate that I am so thin and light, for I could 
 never have reached the high-road alive had I been 
 as fat as De Pretis is ; and certainly the little don 
 key would have died by the way. He was quite as 
 thin when I sold him again as when I bought him, 
 a fortnight before, in spite of the bread I had given 
 him. 
 
 Hedwig drew her veil close about her face as the 
 daylight broke, for she would not let Nino see how 
 pale and tired she was. But when at last we were 
 in the broad, fertile valley which marks the begin 
 ning of the old kingdom of Naples, we reached a 
 village where there was an inn, and Nino turned 
 every one out of the best room with a high hand, 
 and had a couch of some sort spread for Hedwig. 
 He himself walked up and down outside the door 
 for five whole hours, lest she should be disturbed 
 in her sleep. As for me, I lay on a bench, rolled 
 in my cloak, and slept as I have not slept since I 
 was twenty. 
 
 Nino knew that the danger of pursuit was past 
 now, and that the first thing necessary was to give
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 341 
 
 Hedwig rest ; for she was so tired that she could 
 not eat, though there were very good eggs to be 
 had, of which I ate three, and drank some wine, 
 which does not compare to that on the Roman side. 
 
 The sturdy man from Subiaco seemed like iron, 
 for he ate sparingly and drank less, and went out 
 into the village to secure a conveyance and to in 
 quire the nearest way to Ceprano. 
 
 But when, as I have said, Nino had guarded 
 Hedwig's door for five hours he woke me from my 
 sleep, and by that time it was about two in the 
 afternoon. 
 
 " Hi, Messer Cornelio ! wake up ! " he cried, 
 pulling my arm. And I rubbed my eyes. 
 
 " What do you want, Nino ? " I inquired. 
 
 " I want to be married immediately," he replied, 
 still pulling at my elbow. 
 
 " Well, pumpkin-head," I said angrily, " marry, 
 then, in Heaven's name, and let me sleep ! I do 
 not want to marry anybody." 
 
 " But I do," retorted Nino, sitting down on the 
 bench and laying a hand on my shoulder. He 
 could still see Hedwig's door from where he sat. 
 
 " In this place ? " I asked. " Are you serious? " 
 
 "Perfectly. This is a town of some size, and 
 there must be a mayor here who marries people 
 when they take the fancy." 
 
 " Diavolo ! I suppose so," I assented. 
 
 " A sindaco, there must be one, surely." 
 
 " Very well, go and find him, good-for-nothing ! " 
 I exclaimed.
 
 342 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 "But I cannot go away and leave that door until 
 she wakes," he objected. " Dear Messer Cornelio, 
 you have done so much for me, and are so kind, 
 will you not go out and find the sindaco, and bring 
 him here to marry us ? " 
 
 "Nino," I said, gravely, "the ass is a patient 
 beast, and very intelligent, but there is a limit to 
 his capabilities. So long as it is merely a question, 
 of doing things you cannot do, very well. But if 
 it comes to this, that I must find not only the bride, 
 but also the mayor and the priest, I say, with good 
 Pius IX., rest his soul, non possumus." Nino 
 laughed. He could afford to laugh now. 
 
 "Messer Cornelio, a child could tell you have 
 been asleep. I never heard such a string of dis 
 connected sentences in my life. Come, be kind, 
 and get me a mayor that I may be married." 
 
 " I tell you I will not," I cried stubbornly. " Go 
 yourself." 
 
 " But I cannot leave the door. If anything 
 should happen to her " 
 
 " Macche ! What should happen to her, pray ? 
 I will put my bench across the door, and sit there 
 till you come back." 
 
 " I am not quite sure " he began. 
 
 " Idiot ! " I exclaimed. 
 
 " Well, let us see how it looks." And with that 
 he ousted me from my bench, and carried it, walk 
 ing on tiptoe, to the entrance of Hedwig's room. 
 Then he placed it across the door. " Now sit down," 
 he said authoritatively, but in a whisper; and I
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 343 
 
 took my place in the middle of the long seat. He 
 stood back and looked at me with an artistic squint. 
 
 " You look so proper," he said, " that I am sure 
 nobody will think of trying the door while you sit 
 there. Will you remain till I come back?" 
 
 "Like Saint Peter in his chair," I whispered, 
 for I wanted to get rid of him. 
 
 " Well, then, I must risk whatever may happen, 
 and leave you here." So he went away. Now I 
 ask you if this was not a ridiculous position. But 
 I had discovered, in the course of my fortnight's 
 wanderings, that I was really something of a phil 
 osopher in practice, and I am proud to say that on 
 this occasion I smoked in absolute indifference to 
 the absurdity of the thing. 
 
 People came and stood at a distance in the pas 
 sage, and eyed me curiously. But they knew I 
 belonged to the party of foreigners, and doubtless 
 they supposed it was the custom of my country to 
 guard doors in that way. 
 
 An hour passed, and I heard Hedwig stirring in 
 the room. After a time she came close to the door 
 and put her hand on the lock, so that it began to 
 rattle ; but he hesitated, and went away again. I 
 once more heard her moving about. Then I heard 
 her open the window, and at last she came boldly 
 and opened the door, which turned inward. I sat 
 like a rock, not knowing whether Nino would like 
 me to turn round and look. 
 
 " Signor Grand! ! " she cried at last in laughing 
 tones.
 
 344 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 " Yes, signorina ! " I replied respectfully, with 
 out moving. She hesitated. 
 
 " What are you doing in that strange position ? " 
 she asked. 
 
 "I am mounting guard," I answered. "And I 
 promised Nino that I would sit here till he came 
 back." 
 
 She fairly laughed now, and it was the most airy, 
 silvery laugh in the world. 
 
 " But why do you not look at me ? " 
 
 " I am not sure that Nino would let me," said I. 
 "I promised not to move, and I will keep my 
 promise." 
 
 "Will you let me out?" she asked, struggling 
 with her merriment. 
 
 " By no means," I answered ; " any more than I 
 would let anybody in." 
 
 " Then we must make the best of it," said she. 
 " But I will bring a chair and sit down, while you 
 tell me the news." 
 
 " Will you assume all responsibility toward Nino, 
 signorina, if I turn so that I can see you ? " I asked, 
 as she sat down. 
 
 " I will say that I positively ordered you to do 
 so," she answered, gayly. " Now look, and tell me 
 where Signer Cardegna is gone." 
 
 I looked indeed, and it was long before I looked 
 away. The rest, the freedom, and the happiness 
 had done their work quickly, in spite of all the 
 dreadful anxiety and fatigue. The fresh, trans 
 parent color was in her cheeks, and her blue eyes
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 345 
 
 were clear and bright. The statue had been through 
 the fire, and was made a living thing, beautiful, 
 and breathing, and real. 
 
 "Tell me," she said, the light dancing in her 
 eyes, " where is he gone ? " 
 
 " He is gone to find the mayor of this imposing 
 capital," I replied. Hedwig suddenly blushed, and 
 turned her glistening eyes away. She was beauti 
 ful so. 
 
 "Are you very tired, signorina? I ought not to 
 ask the question, for you look as though you had 
 never been tired in your life." 
 
 There is no saying what foolish speeches I might 
 have made had not Nino returned. He was radi 
 ant, and I anticipated that he must have succeeded 
 in his errand. 
 
 " Ha ! Messer Cornelio, is this the way you keep 
 watch?" he cried. 
 
 " I found him here," said Hedwig shyly, " and 
 he would not even glance at me until I positively 
 insisted upon it." 
 
 Nino laughed, as he would have laughed at most 
 things in that moment, for sheer superfluity of hap 
 piness. 
 
 " Signorina," he said, " would it be agreeable to 
 you to walk for a few minutes after your sleep? 
 The weather is wonderfully fine, and I am sure you 
 owe it to the world to show the roses which rest has 
 given you." 
 
 Hedwig blushed softly, and I rose and went away, 
 conceiving that I had kept watch long enough. But
 
 346 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 Nino called after me, as he moved the bench from 
 the door. 
 
 " Messer Cornelio, will you not come with us ? 
 Surely you need a walk very much, and we can ill 
 spare your company. My lady, let me offer you my 
 arm." 
 
 In this manner we left the inn, a wedding pro 
 cession which could not have been much smaller, 
 and the singing of an old woman, who sat with 
 her distaff in front of her house, was the wedding 
 march. Nino seemed in no great haste, I thought, 
 and I let them walk as they would, while I kept 
 soberly in the middle of the road, a little way be 
 hind. 
 
 It was not far that we had to go, however, and 
 soon we came to a large brick house, with an un 
 commonly small door, over which hung a wooden 
 shield with the arms of Italy brightly painted in 
 green and red and white. 
 
 Nino and Hedwig entered arm in arm, and I 
 slunk guiltily in after them. Hedwig had drawn 
 her veil, which was the only head-dress she had, 
 close about her face. 
 
 In a quarter of an hour the little ceremony was 
 over, and the registers were signed by us all. Nino 
 also got a stamped certificate, which he put very 
 carefully in his pocket-book. I never knew what it 
 cost Nino to overcome the scruples of the sindaco 
 about marrying a strange couple from Rome in 
 that outlandish place, where the peasants stared at 
 us as though we had been the most unnatural curi-
 
 A POM AN SINGER. 347 
 
 osities, and even the pigs in the street jogged sul 
 lenly out of our way, as though not recognizing 
 that we were human. 
 
 At all events, the thing was done, and Hedwig 
 von Lira became for the rest of her life Edvigia 
 Cardegna. And I felt very guilty. The pair went 
 down the steps of the house together in front of me, 
 and stopped as they reached the street ; forgetting 
 my presence, I presume. They had not forgotten 
 me so long as I was needed to be of use to them ; 
 but I must not complain. 
 
 " We can face the world together now, my dear 
 lady," said Nino, as he drew her little hand through 
 his arm. She looked up at him, and I could see 
 her side face. I shall never forget the expression. 
 There was in it something I really never saw be 
 fore, which made me feel as though I were in 
 church ; and I knew then that there was no wrong 
 in helping such love as that to its fulfillment. 
 
 By the activity of the man from Subiaco, a curi 
 ous conveyance was ready for us, being something 
 between a gig and a cart, and a couple of strong 
 horses were hired for the long drive. The country 
 man, who had grown rich in the last three days, 
 offered to buy the thin little ass which had carried 
 me so far and so well. He observed that he was 
 blind of one eye, which I had never found out, and 
 I do not believe it was true. The way he showed it 
 was by snapping his fingers close to the eye in ques 
 tion. The donkey winked, and the countryman said 
 that if the eye were good the beast would see that
 
 348 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 the noise was made by the fingers, and would not 
 be frightened, and would therefore not wink. 
 
 " You see," said he, " he thinks it is a whip 
 cracking, and so he is afraid." 
 
 " Do donkeys always wink when they are fright 
 ened?"! inquired. "It is very interesting." 
 
 "Yes," said the countryman, "they mostly do." 
 At all events, I was obliged to take the man's own 
 price, which was little enough not a third of what 
 I had given. 
 
 The roads were good, and the long and the short 
 of the matter, without any more details, is that we 
 reached Rome very early the next morning, having 
 caught the night train from Naples. Hedwig slept 
 most of the time in the carriage and all the time in 
 the train, while Nino, who seemed never to tire or 
 to need sleep, sat watching her with wide, happy 
 eyes. But perhaps he slept a little, too, for I did, 
 and I cannot answer for his wakefulness through 
 every minute of the night. 
 
 Once I asked him what he intended to do in 
 Rome. 
 
 " We will go to the hotel Costanzi," he answered, 
 " which is a foreigners' resort. And if she is rested 
 enough we will come down to you, and see what we 
 can do about being married properly in church by 
 the old curato." 
 
 " The marriage by the sindaco is perfectly legal," 
 I remarked. 
 
 " It is a legal contract, but it is not a marriage 
 that pleases me," he said gravely.
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 349 
 
 " But, caro mio, without offense, your bride is a 
 Protestant, a Lutheran ; not to mince matters, a 
 heretic. They will make objections." 
 
 " She is an angel," said Nino, with great convic 
 tion. 
 
 " But the angels neither marry nor are given in 
 marriage," I objected, arguing the point to pass the 
 time. 
 
 " What do you make of it, then, Messer Cor- 
 nelio ? " he asked, with a smile. 
 
 " Why, as a heretic she ought to burn, and as an 
 angel she ought not to marry." 
 
 " It is better to marry than to burn," retorted 
 Nino triumphantly. 
 
 " Diavolo ! Have you had Saint Paul for a 
 tutor?" I asked, for I knew the quotation, being 
 fond of Greek. 
 
 " I heard a preacher cite it once at the Gesu, and 
 I thought it a good saying." 
 
 Early in the morning we rolled into the great 
 station of Rome, and took an affectionate leave of 
 each other, with the promise that Hedwig and Nino 
 would visit me in the course of the day. I saw 
 them into a carriage, with Nino's small portmanteau 
 and Hedwig's bundle, and then mounted a modest 
 omnibus that runs from the Termini to St. Peter's, 
 and goes very near my house. 
 
 All the bells were ringing gladly, as if to wel 
 come us, for it was Easter morning ; and though it 
 is not so kept as it used to be, it is nevertheless a 
 great feast. Besides, the spring was at hand, and
 
 350 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 the acacia-trees in the great square were budding, 
 though everything was still so backward in the hills. 
 April was at hand, which the foreigners think is our 
 best month ; but I prefer June and July, when the 
 weather is warm, and the music plays in the Piazza 
 Colonna of an evening. For all that, April is a 
 glad time, after the disagreeable winter. 
 
 There was with me much peace on that Easter 
 day, for I felt that my dear boy was safe after all 
 his troubles.. At least, he was safe from anything 
 that could be done to part him from Hedwig ; for 
 the civil laws are binding, and Hedwig was of the 
 age when a young woman is legally free to marry 
 whom she pleases. Of course old Lira might still 
 make himself disagreeable, but I fancied him too 
 much a man of the world to desire a scandal, when 
 no good could follow. The one shadow in the future 
 was the anger of Benoni, who would be certain to 
 seek some kind of revenge for the repulse he had 
 suffered. I was still ignorant of his whereabouts, 
 not yet knowing what I knew long afterwards, and 
 have told you, because otherwise you would have 
 been as much in the dark as he was himself, when 
 Temistocle cunningly turned the lock of the stair 
 case door and left him to his curses and his medita 
 tions. I have had much secret joy in thinking what 
 a wretched night he must have passed there, and 
 how his long limbs must have ached with sitting 
 about on the stones, and how hoarse he must have 
 been from the dampness and the swearing. 
 
 I reached home, the dear old number twenty-
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 351 
 
 seven in Santa Catarina dei Funari, by half past 
 seven, or even earlier ; and I was glad when I rang 
 the bell on the landing, and called through the key 
 hole in my impatience. 
 
 " Mariuccia, Mariuccia, come quickly ! It is I ! " 
 I cried. 
 
 " O Madonna mia ! " I heard her exclaim, and 
 there was a tremendous clatter, as she dropped the 
 coffee-pot. She was doubtless brewing herself a 
 quiet cup with my best Porto Rico, which I do not 
 allow her to use. She thought I was never com 
 ing back, the cunning old hag ! 
 
 " Dio mio, Signer Professore ! A good Easter to 
 you ! " she cried, as I heard the flat pattering of her 
 old feet inside, running to the door. " I thought the 
 wolves had eaten you, padrone mio.! " And at last 
 she let me in.
 
 XXIII. 
 
 " A TALL gentleman came here late last night, 
 Signer Professore," said Mariuccia, as I sat down 
 in the old green armchair. " He seemed very an 
 gry about something and said he must positively 
 see you." The idea of Benoni flashed uneasily 
 across my brain. 
 
 " Was he the grave signore who came a few days 
 before I left ? " I asked. 
 
 " Heaven preserve us ! " ejaculated Mariuccia. 
 " This one was much older, and seemed to be lame ; 
 for when he tried to shake his stick at me, he could 
 not stand without it. He looked like one of the 
 old Swiss guards at Palazzo." By which she meant 
 the Vatican, as you know. 
 
 " It must have been the count," I said, thinking 
 aloud. 
 
 " A count ! A pretty sort of count, indeed, to 
 come waking people from their beds in the night ! 
 He had not even a high hat like the one you wear 
 when you go to the university. A count, indeed ! " 
 
 " Go and make me some good coffee, Mariuc 
 cia," I said, eying her severely to show I suspected 
 her of having used mine ; " and be careful to make 
 it of my best Porto Rico, if you have any left, with 
 out any chicory."
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 353 
 
 " A count, indeed ! " she muttered angrily as she 
 hobbled away, not in the least heeding my last re 
 mark, which I believed to be withering. 
 
 I had not much time for reflection that morning. 
 My old clothes were in tatters, and the others looked 
 very fine by contrast, so that when I had made my 
 toilet I felt better able to show myself to the dis 
 tinguished company I expected. I had seen so 
 much extraordinary endurance in Nino and Hed- 
 wig during the last two or three days that I was 
 prepared to see them appear at any moment, 
 brushed and curled and ready for anything. The 
 visit of the count, however, had seriously disturbed 
 me, and I hardly knew what to look for from him. 
 As it turned out I had not long to wait. 
 
 I was resting myself in the armchair, and smok 
 ing one of those infamous cigars that nearly suffo 
 cate me, just for company, and I was composing in 
 my mind a letter to the authorities of the univer 
 sity, requesting that I might begin to lecture again. 
 I did not find out until later that I need not have 
 written to them at all when I went away, as ten 
 days are always allowed at Easter, in any case. It 
 is just like my forgetfulness, to have made such a 
 mistake. I really only missed four lectures. But 
 my composition was interrupted by the door-bell, and 
 my heart sank in my breast. Mariuccia opened, 
 and I knew by the sound of the stick on the bricks 
 that the lame count had come to wreak his ven 
 geance. 
 
 Being much frightened, I was very polite, and 
 
 23
 
 354 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 bowed a great many times as he came toward me. 
 It was he, looking much the same as ever, wooden 
 and grizzly. 
 
 " I am much honored, sir," I began, " by seeing 
 you here." 
 
 " You are Signer Grandi ? " he inquired with a 
 stiff bow. 
 
 " The same, Signor Conte, and very much at your 
 service," I answered, rubbing my hands together to 
 give myself an air of satisfaction. 
 
 " Let us not waste time," he said severely, but 
 not roughly. "I have come to you on business. 
 My daughter has disappeared with your son, or 
 whatever relation the Signor Giovanni Cardegna is 
 to you." 
 
 " He is no relation, Signor Conte. He was an 
 orphan, and I " 
 
 " It is the same," he interrupted. " You are re 
 sponsible for his doings." 
 
 I responsible ! Good heavens, had I not done 
 all in my power to prevent the rashness of that 
 hot-headed boy ? 
 
 " Will you not sit down, sir ? " I said, moving a 
 chair for him. He took the seat rather reluctantly. 
 
 "You do not seem much astonished at what I 
 tell you," he remarked. " It is evident that you 
 are in the plot." 
 
 " Unless you will inform me of what you know, 
 Signor Conte," I replied with urbanity, " I cannot 
 see how I can be of service to you." 
 
 " On the contrary," said he, " I am the person to
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 355 
 
 ask questions. I wake up in the morning and find 
 my daughter gone. I naturally inquire where she 
 is." 
 
 " Most naturally, as you say, sir. I would do the 
 same." 
 
 " And you, also very naturally, answer my ques 
 tions," he continued severely. 
 
 "In that case, sir," I replied, "I would call to 
 your attention the fact that you have asked but one 
 question, whether I were Signer Grandi. I an 
 swered that in the affirmative." You see I was 
 apprehensive of what he might do, and desired to 
 gain time. But he began to lose his temper. 
 
 " I have no patience with you Italians," he said 
 gruffly ; " you bandy words and play with them as 
 if you enjoyed it." 
 
 Diavolo ! thought I ; he is angry at my silence. 
 What will he be if I speak ? 
 
 " What do you wish to know, Signer Conte ? " I 
 inquired in suave tones. 
 
 " I wish to know where my daughter is. Where 
 is she ? Do you understand ? I am asking a ques 
 tion now, and you cannot deny it." 
 
 I was sitting in front of him, but I rose and pre 
 tended to shut the door, thus putting the table and 
 the end of the piano between us, before I answered. 
 
 " She is in Rome, Signer Conte," I said. 
 
 " With Cardegna? " he asked, not betraying any 
 emotion. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Very well. I will have them arrested at once.
 
 356 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 That is all I wanted." He put his crutch stick to 
 the floor as though about to rise. Seeing that his 
 anger was not turned against me, I grew bold. 
 
 " You had better not do that," I mildly observed, 
 across the table. 
 
 " And why not, sir ? " he asked quickly, hesitat 
 ing whether to get upon his feet or to remain 
 seated. 
 
 " Because they are married already," I answered, 
 retreating toward the door. But there was no need 
 for flight. He sank back in the chair, and the 
 stick fell from his hands upon the bricks with a 
 loud rattle. Poor old man ! I thought he was 
 quite overcome by the news I had communicated. 
 He sat staring at the window, his hands lying idly 
 on his knees. I moved to come toward him, but he 
 raised one hand and began to twirl his great gray 
 mustache fiercely; whereat I resumed my former 
 position of safety. 
 
 " How do you know this ? " he demanded on a 
 sudden. 
 
 " I was present at the civil marriage yesterday," 
 I answered, feeling very much scared. He began 
 to notice my manoeuvre. 
 
 " You need not be so frightened," he said coldly. 
 " It would be of no use to kill any of you now, 
 though I would like to." \ 
 
 " I assure you that no one ever frightened me in 
 my own house, sir," I answered. I think my voice 
 must have sounded very bold, for he did not laugh 
 at me.
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 357 
 
 "I suppose it is irrevocable," he said, as if to 
 himself. 
 
 " Oh, yes, perfectly irrevocable," I answered 
 promptly. "They are married, and have come 
 back to Rome. They are at the hotel Costanzi. I 
 am sure that Nino would give you every explana 
 tion." 
 
 " Who is Nino," he asked. 
 
 " Nino Cardegna, of course " 
 
 " And do you foolishly imagine that I am going 
 to ask him to explain why he took upon himself 
 to carry away my daughter ? " The question was 
 scornful enough. 
 
 " Signer Conte," I protested, "you would do well 
 to see them, for she is your daughter, after all." 
 
 " She is not my daughter any longer," growled 
 the count. " She is married to a singer, a tenor, 
 an Italian with curls and lies and grins, as you all 
 have. Fie ! " And he pulled his mustache again. 
 
 "A singer," said I, "if you like, but a great 
 singer, and an honest man." 
 
 " Oh, I did not come here to listen to your 
 praises of that scoundrel ! " he exclaimed hotly. 
 " I have seen enough of him to be sick of him." 
 
 " I wish he were in this room to hear you call 
 him by such names," I said ; for I began to grow 
 angry, as I sometimes do, and then my fear grows 
 small and my heart grows big. 
 
 "Ah?" said he ironically. "And pray, what 
 would he do to me ? " 
 
 "He would probably ask you again for that
 
 358 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 pistol you refused to lend him the other day." I 
 thought I might as well show that I knew all about 
 the meeting in the road. But Lira laughed grimly, 
 and the idea of a fight seemed to please him. 
 
 " I would not refuse it this time. In fact, since 
 you mention it, I think I will go and offer it to him 
 now. Do you think I should be justified, Master 
 Censor?" 
 
 "No," said I, coming forward and facing him. 
 " But if you like you can fight me. I am your own 
 age, and a better match." I would have fought 
 him then and there, with the chairs, if he had liked. 
 
 " Why should I fight you ? " he inquired, in 
 some astonishment. "You strike me as a very 
 peaceable person indeed." 
 
 " Diavolo ! do you expect me to stand quietly 
 and hear you call my boy a scoundrel ? What do 
 you take me for, signore? Do you know that I 
 am the last of the Conti Grandi, and as noble as 
 any of you, and as fit to fight, though my hair is 
 gray?" 
 
 " I knew, indeed, that one member of that illus 
 trious family survived in Rome," he answered 
 gravely, " but I was not aware that you were he. I 
 am glad to make your acquaintance, and I sincerely 
 wish that you were the father of the young man 
 who has married my daughter. If you were, I 
 should be ready to arrange matters." He looked 
 at me searchingly. 
 
 " Unfortunately, I am not any relation of his," 
 I answered. " His father and mother were peasants
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 359 
 
 on my estate of Serveti, when it still was mine. 
 They died when he was a baby and I took care of 
 him and educated him." 
 
 . " Yes, he is well educated," reflected the count, 
 " for I examined him myself. Let us talk no more 
 about fighting. You are quite sure that the mar 
 riage is legal." 
 
 " Quite certain. You can do nothing, and any 
 attempt would be a useless scandal. Besides, they 
 are so happy, you do not know." 
 
 " So happy, are they ? Do you think I am happy, 
 too?" 
 
 " A man has every reason to be so, when his 
 daughter marries an honest man. It is a piece of 
 good luck that does not happen often." 
 
 " Probably from the scarcity of daughters who 
 are willing to drive their fathers to distraction by 
 their disobedience and contempt of authority," he 
 said savagely. 
 
 " No, from the scarcity of honest men," I 
 said. " Nino is a very honest man. You may go 
 from one end of Italy to the other, and not meet 
 one like him." 
 
 " I sincerely hope so," growled Lira. " Other 
 wise Italy would be as wholly unredeemed and un 
 redeemable as you pretend that some parts of it are 
 now. But I will tell you, Conte Grandi, you can 
 not walk across the street, in my country, without 
 meeting a dozen men who would tremble at the 
 idea of such depravity as an elopement." 
 
 " Our ideas of honesty differ, sir," I replied.
 
 360 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 " When a man loves a woman, I consider it honest 
 in him to act as though he did, and not to go and 
 marry another for consolation, beating her with a 
 thick stick whenever he chances to think of the 
 first. That seems to be the northern idea of do 
 mestic felicity." Lira laughed gruffly, supposing 
 that my picture was meant for a jest. " I am glad 
 you are amused," I added. 
 
 " Upon my honor, sir," he replied, " you are so 
 vastly amusing that I am half inclined to forgive 
 my daughter's rashness, for the sake of enjoying 
 your company. First you intrench yourself behind 
 your furniture ; then you propose to fight me ; and 
 now you give me the most original views upon love 
 and marriage that I ever heard. Indeed, I have 
 cause to be amused." 
 
 " I am happy to oblige you," I said tartly ; for 
 I did not like his laughter. " So long as you con 
 fine your amusement to me, I am satisfied ; but 
 pray avoid using any objectionable language about 
 Nino." 
 
 " Then my only course is to avoid the subject ? " 
 
 " Precisely," I replied, with much dignity. 
 
 " In that case I will go," he said. I was im 
 mensely relieved, for his presence was most un 
 pleasant, as you may readily guess. He got upon 
 his feet, and I showed him to the door with all 
 courtesy. I expected that he would say something 
 about the future before leaving me, but I was mis 
 taken. He bowed in silence, and stumped down 
 the steps with his stick.
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 361 
 
 I sank into my armchair with a great sigh of 
 relief, for I felt that, for me at least, the worst was 
 over. I had faced the infuriated father, and I 
 might now face anybody with the consciousness of 
 power. I always feel conscious of great power when 
 the danger is past. Once more I lit my cigar, and 
 stretched myself out to take some rest. The con 
 stant strain on the nerves was becoming very wear 
 ing, and I knew well that on the morrow I should 
 need bleeding and mallows tea. Hardly was I set 
 tled and comfortable when I heard that dreadful 
 bell again. 
 
 " This is the day of the resurrection indeed," 
 cried Mariuccia frantically from the kitchen. And 
 she hurried to the door. But I cannot describe to 
 you the screams of joy and the strange sounds, be 
 tween laughing and crying, that her leathern throat 
 produced when she found Nino and Hedwig on the 
 landing, waiting for admission. And when Nino 
 explained that he had been married, and that this 
 beautiful lady with the bright eyes and the golden 
 hair was his wife, the old woman fairly gave way, 
 and sat upon a chair in an agony of amazement 
 and admiration. But the pair came toward me, 
 and I met them with a light heart. 
 
 " Nino," said Hedwig, " we have not been nearly 
 grateful enough to Signor Grandi for all he has 
 done. I have been very selfish," she said penitently, 
 turning to me. 
 
 " Ah no, signora," I replied, for she was mar 
 ried now, and no longer " signorina," " it is
 
 362 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 never selfish of such as you to let an old man do 
 you service. You have made me very happy." And 
 then I embraced Nino, and Hedwig gave me her 
 hand, which I kissed in the old fashion. 
 
 " And so this is your old home, Nino," said Hed 
 wig presently, looking about her, and touching the 
 things in the room, as a woman will when she 
 makes acquaintance with a place she has often 
 heard of. "What a dear room it is ! I wish we 
 could live here ! " How very soon a woman learns 
 that " we " that means so much ! It is never for 
 gotten, even when the love that bred it is dead and 
 cold. 
 
 " Yes," I said, for Nino seemed so enraptured, as 
 he watched her, that he could not speak. "And 
 there is the old piano, with the end on the boxes, 
 because it has no leg, as I dare say Nino has often 
 told you." 
 
 " Nino said it was a very good piano," said she. 
 
 " And indeed it is," he cried, with enthusiasm. 
 " It is out of tune now, perhaps ; but it is the 
 source of all my fortune." He leaned over the 
 crazy instrument and seemed to caress it. 
 
 " Poor old thing ! " said Hedwig compassion 
 ately. " I am sure there is music in it still, the 
 sweet nmsic of the past." 
 
 " Yes," said he, laughing, " it must be the music 
 of the past, for it would not stand the ' music of 
 the future,' as they call it, for five minutes. All 
 the strings would break." Hedwig sat down on 
 the chair that was in front of it, and her fingers
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 363 
 
 went involuntarily to the keys, though she is no 
 great musician. 
 
 " I can play a little, you know, Nino," she said 
 shyly, and looked up to his face for a response, not 
 venturing to strike the chords. And it would have 
 done you good to see how brightly Nino smiled and 
 encouraged her little offer of music, he, the great 
 artist, in whose life music was both sword and scep 
 tre. But he knew that she had greatness also of a 
 different kind, and he loved the small jewels in his 
 crown as well as the glorious treasures of its larger 
 wealth. 
 
 " Play to me, my love," he said, not caring now 
 whether I heard the sweet words or not. Shff" 
 blushed a little, nevertheless, and glanced at me ; 
 then her fingers strayed over the keys, and drew 
 out music that was very soft and yet very gay. 
 Suddenly she ceased, and leaned forward on the 
 desk of the piano, looking at him. 
 
 " Do you know, Nino, it was once my dream to 
 be a great musician. If I had not been so rich I 
 should have taken the profession in earnest. But 
 now, you see it is different, is it not ? " 
 
 " Yes, it is all different now," he answered, not 
 knowing exactly what she meant, but radiantly 
 happy, all the same. 
 
 "I mean," she said, hesitating "I mean that 
 now that we are to be always together, what you do 
 I do, and what I do you do. Do you understand?" 
 
 "Yes, perfectly," replied Nino, rather puzzled, 
 but quite satisfied.
 
 364 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 " Ah no, dear," said she, forgetting my presence, 
 and letting her hand steal into his as he stood, 
 " you do not understand quite. I mean that so 
 long as one of us can be a great musician it is 
 enough, and I am just as great as though I did it 
 all myself." 
 
 Thereupon Nino forgot himself altogether, and 
 kissed her golden hair. But then he saw me look 
 ing, for it was so pretty a sight that I could not 
 help it, and he remembered. 
 
 " Oh ! " . he said, in a tone of embarrassment, 
 that I had never heard before. Then Hedwig 
 blushed very much, too, and looked away, and Nino 
 put himself between her and me, so that I might 
 not see her. 
 
 " Could you play something for me to sing, Hed 
 wig ? " he asked suddenly. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! I can play ' Spirto gentil,' by heart," 
 she cried, hailing the idea with delight. 
 
 In a moment they were both lost, and indeed so 
 was I, in the dignity and beauty of the simple mel 
 ody. As he began to sing, Nino bent down to her, 
 and almost whispered the first words into her ear. 
 But soon he stood erect, and let the music flow from 
 his lips, just as God made it. His voice was tired 
 with the long watching and the dust and cold and 
 heat of the journey ; but, as De Pretis said when 
 he began, he has an iron throat, and the weariness 
 only made the tones soft and tender and thrilling, 
 that would perhaps have been too strong for my 
 little Boom.
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 365 
 
 Suddenly he stopped short in the middle of a 
 note, and gazed open-mouthed at the door. And I 
 looked, too, and was horrified ; and Hedwig, look 
 ing also, screamed and sprang back to the window, 
 overturning the chair she had sat on. 
 
 In the doorway stood Ahasuerus Benoni, the 
 Jew. 
 
 Mariuccia had imprudently forgotten to shut the 
 door when Hedwig and Nino came, and the baron 
 had walked in unannounced. You may imagine 
 the fright I was in. But, after all, it was natural 
 enough that, after what had occurred, he as well as 
 the count should seek an interview with me, to ob 
 tain what information I was willing to give. 
 
 There he stood in his gay clothes, tall and thin 
 and smiling as of yore.
 
 XXIV. 
 
 NINO is a man for great emergencies, as I have 
 had occasion to say, and when he realized who the 
 unwelcome visitor was, he acted as promptly as 
 usual. With a face like marble he walked straight 
 across the room to Benoni and faced him. 
 
 " Baron Benoni," he said in a low voice, " I warn 
 you that you are most unwelcome here. If you at 
 tempt to say any word to my wife, or to force an 
 entrance, I will make short work of you." Benoni 
 eyed him Math a sort of pitying curiosity as he made 
 this speech. 
 
 " Do not fear, Signor Cardegna. I came to see 
 Signer Grandi, and to ascertain from him precisely 
 what you have volunteered to tell me. You cannot 
 suppose that I have any object in interrupting the 
 leisure of a great artist, or the privacy of his very 
 felicitous domestic relations. I have not a great 
 deal to say. That is, I have always a great deal to 
 say about everything, but I shall at present confine 
 myself to a very little." 
 
 " You will be wise," said Nino, " and you would 
 be wiser if you confined yourself to nothing at all." 
 
 " Patience, Signor Cardegna," protested Benoni. 
 " You will readily conceive that I am a little out of 
 breath with the stairs, for I am a very old man."
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 367 
 
 " In that case," I said, from the other side of the 
 room, " I may as well occupy your breathing time 
 by telling you that any remarks you are likely to 
 make to me have been forestalled by the Graf von 
 Lira, who has been with me this morning." Benoni 
 smiled, but both Hedwig and Nino looked at me in 
 surprise. 
 
 "I only wished to say," returned Benoni, "that 
 I consider you in the light of an interesting phe 
 nomenon. Nay, Signer Cardegna, do not look so 
 fierce. I am an old man " 
 
 " An old devil ! " said Nino, hotly. 
 
 " An old fool ! " said I. 
 
 "An old reprobate ! " said Hedwig, from her cor 
 ner, in deepest indignation. 
 
 " Precisely," returned Benoni, smilingly. " Many 
 people have been good enough to tell me so before. 
 Thanks, kind friends ; I believe you with all my 
 heart. Meanwhile, man, devil, fool, or reprobate, 
 I am very old. I am about to leave Rome for St. 
 Petersburg, and I will take this last opportunity of 
 informing you that in a very singularly long life I 
 have met with only two or three such remarkable 
 instances as this of yours." 
 
 " Say what you wish to say, and go," said Nino 
 roughly. 
 
 " Certainly. And whenever I have met with such 
 an instance I have done my very utmost to reduce 
 it to the common level, and to prove to myself that 
 no such thing really exists. I find it a dangerous 
 thing, however ; for an old man in love is likely to
 
 368 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 exhibit precisely the agreeable and striking pecul 
 iarities you have so aptly designated." There was 
 something so odd about his manner and about the 
 things he said that Nino was silent, and allowed 
 him to proceed. 
 
 " The fact is," he continued, " that love is a very 
 rare thing, nowadays, and is so very generally an 
 abominable sham that I have often amused myself 
 by diabolically devising plans for its destruction. 
 On this occasion I very nearly came to grief myself. 
 The same thing happened to me some time ago, 
 about forty years, I should say, and I perceive 
 that it has not been forgotten. It may amuse you 
 to look at this paper, which I chance to have with 
 me. Good-morning. I leave for St. Petersburg at 
 once." 
 
 " I believe you are really the Wandering Jew ! " 
 cried Nino, as Benoni left the room. 
 
 " His name was certainly Ahasuerus," Benoni 
 replied from the outer door. " But it may be a 
 coincidence, after all. Good-by." He was gone. 
 
 I was the first to take up the paper he had thrown 
 upon a chair. There was a passage marked with a 
 red pencil. I read it aloud : 
 
 "... Baron Benoni, the wealthy banker of St. 
 Petersburg, who was many years ago an inmate of 
 a private lunatic asylum in Paris, is reported to be 
 dangerously insane in Rome." That was all. The 
 paper was the Paris " Figaro." 
 
 " Merciful Heaven ! " exclaimed Hedwig, " and 
 I was shut up with that madman in Fillettino ! "
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 369 
 
 Nino was already by her side, and in his strong 
 arms she forgot Benoni, and Fillettino, and all her 
 troubles. We were all silent for some time. At 
 last Nino spoke. 
 
 " Is it true that the count was here this morn 
 ing? " he asked, in a subdued voice, for the extraor 
 dinary visit and its sequel had made him grave. 
 
 " Quite true," I said. " He was here a long 
 time. I would not spoil your pleasure by telling 
 you of it, when you first came." 
 
 " What did he what did my father say ? " asked 
 Hedwig presently. 
 
 "My dear children," I answered, thinking I 
 might well call them so, " he said a great many 
 unpleasant things, so that I offered to fight him if 
 he said any more." At this they both laid hold of 
 me and began to caress me ; and one smoothed my 
 hair, and the other embraced me, so that I was 
 half smothered. 
 
 " Dear Signor Grandi," cried Hedwig anxiously, 
 " how good and brave you are ! " She does not 
 know what a coward I am, you see, and I hope she 
 will never find out, for nothing was ever said to me 
 that gave me half so much pleasure as to be called 
 brave by her, the dear child ; and if she never finds 
 out, she may say it again, some day. Besides, I 
 really did offer to fight Lira, as I have told you. 
 
 " And what is he going to do ? " asked Nino, in 
 some anxiety. 
 
 " I do not know. I told him it was all legal, and 
 that he could not touch you at all. I also said you 
 24
 
 370 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 were staying at the hotel Costanzi, where he might 
 find you, if he wished." 
 
 " Oh 1 Did you tell him that ? " asked Hedwig. 
 
 " It was quite right," said Nino. " He ought to 
 know, of course. And what else did you tell him ? " 
 
 " Nothing especial, Nino mio. He went away in 
 a sort of ill temper because I would not let him 
 abuse you as much as he pleased." 
 
 " He may abuse me and be welcome," said Nino. 
 " He has some right to be angry with me. But he 
 will think differently some day." So we chatted 
 away for an hour, enjoying the rest and the peace 
 and the sweet sunshine of the Easter afternoon. 
 But this was the day of interruptions. There was 
 one more visitor to come, one more scene for me 
 to tell you, and then I have done. 
 
 A carriage drove down the street and seemed to 
 stop at the door of my house. Nino looked idly 
 out of the window. Suddenly he started. 
 
 " Hedwig, Hedwig ! " he cried, " here is your fa 
 ther coming back ! " She would not look out, but 
 stood back from the window, turning pale. If there 
 were one thing she dreaded, it was a meeting with 
 her father. All the old doubt as to whether she 
 had done right seemed to come back to her face in 
 a moment. But Nino turned and looked at her, 
 and his face was so triumphant that she got back 
 her courage, and clasping his hand bravely awaited 
 what was to come. 
 
 I myself went to the door, and heard Lira's slow 
 tread on the stairs. Before long he appeared, and
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 371 
 
 glanced up at me from the steps, which he climbed, 
 one at a time, with his stick. 
 
 " Is my daughter here ? " he asked as soon as he 
 reached me ; and his voice sounded subdued, just 
 as Nino's did when Benoni had gone. I conducted 
 him into the room. It was the strangest meeting. 
 The proud old man bowed stiffly to Hedwig, as 
 though he had never before seen her. Nino and 
 
 O 
 
 Hedwig also bent their heads, and there was a 
 silence as of death in the sunny room. 
 
 " My daughter," said Von Lira at last, and with 
 evident effort, " I wish to have a word with you. 
 These two gentlemen the younger of whom is 
 now, as I understand it, your husband may well 
 hear what I wish to say." 
 
 I moved a chair so that he might sit down, but 
 he stood up to his full height, as though not deign 
 ing to be older than the rest. I watched Hedwig, 
 and saw how with both hands she clung to Nino's 
 arm, and her lip trembled, and her face wore the 
 look it had when I saw her in Fillettino. 
 
 As for Nino, his stern, square jaw was set, and 
 his brows bent, but he showed no emotion, unless 
 the darkness in his face and the heavy shadows be 
 neath his eyes foretold ready anger. 
 
 " I am no trained reasoner, like Signor Grandi," 
 said Lira, looking straight at Hedwig, " but I can 
 say plainly what I mean, for all that. There was a 
 good old law in Sparta, whereby disobedient chil 
 dren were put to death without mercy. Sparta was 
 a good country, ; very like Prussia, but less great.
 
 372 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 You know what I mean. You have cruelly diso 
 beyed me, cruelly, I say, because you have shown 
 me that all my pains and kindness and discipline 
 have been in vain. There is nothing so sorrowful 
 for a good parent as to discover that he has made 
 a mistake." 
 
 (The canting old proser, I thought, will he never 
 finish ! ) 
 
 " The mistake I refer to is not in the way I have 
 dealt with you," he went on, " for on that score I 
 have nothing to reproach myself. But I was mis 
 taken in supposing you loved me. You have de 
 spised all I have done for you." 
 
 " Oh, father ! How can you say that ? " cried 
 poor Hedwig, clinging closer to Nino. 
 
 "At all events, you have acted as though you 
 did. On the very day when I promised you to 
 take signal action upon Baron Benoni, you left me 
 by stealth, saying in your miserable letter that you 
 had gone to a man who could both love and protect 
 you." 
 
 "You did neither the one nor the other, sir," 
 said Nino boldly, "when you required of your 
 daughter to marry such a man as Benoni." 
 
 " I have just seen Benoni ; I saw him also on 
 the night you left me, madam," he looked se 
 verely at Hedwig, " and I am reluctantly forced 
 to confess that he is not sane, according to the or 
 dinary standard of the mind." 
 
 We had all known from the paper of the suspi 
 cion that rested on Benoni's sanity, yet somehow
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 373 
 
 there was a little murmur in the room when the old 
 count so clearly stated his opinion. 
 
 "That does not, however, alter the position in 
 the least," continued Lira, " for you knew nothing 
 of this at the time I desired you to marry him, and 
 I should have found it out soon enough to prevent 
 mischief. Instead of trusting to my judgment, you 
 took the law into your own hands, like a most un 
 natural daughter, as you are, and disappeared in 
 the night with a man whom I consider totally unfit 
 for you, however superior," he added, glancing at 
 Nino, " he may have proved himself in his own 
 rank of life." 
 
 Nino could not hold his tongue any longer. It 
 seemed absurd that there should be a battle of 
 words when all the realities of the affair were ac 
 complished facts ; but for his life he could not help 
 speaking. 
 
 " Sir," he said, addressing Lira, " I rejoice that 
 this opportunity is given me of once more speaking 
 clearly to you. Months ago, when I was betrayed 
 into a piece of rash violence, for which I at once 
 apologized to you, I told you under somewhat pe 
 culiar circumstances that I would yet marry your 
 daughter, if she would have me. I stand here to-day 
 with her by my side, my wedded wife, to tell you 
 that I have kept my word, and that she is mine by 
 her own free consent. Have you any cause to show 
 why she is not my wedded wife ? If so, show it. 
 But I will not let you stand there and say bitter 
 and undeserved things to this same wife of mine,
 
 374 A ROMAN SIA r GER. 
 
 abusing the name of father and the terms ' author 
 ity ' and ' love,' f orsootli ! And if you wish to take 
 vengeance on me personally, do so if you can. I 
 will not fight duels with you now, as I was ready 
 to do the day before yesterday. For then so 
 short a time ago I had but offered her my life, 
 and so that I gave it for her I cared not how nor 
 when. But now she has taken me for hers, and 
 I have no more right to let you kill me than I 
 have to kill myself, seeing that she and I are one. 
 Therefore, good sir, if you have words of concilia 
 tion to speak, speak them ; but if you would only 
 tell her harsh and cruel things, I say you shall 
 not!" 
 
 As Nino uttered these hot words in good, plain 
 Italian, they had a bold and honest sound of 
 strength that was glorious to hear. A weaker man 
 than the old count would have fallen into a fury of 
 rage, and perhaps would have done some foolish 
 violence. But he stood silent, eying his antagonist 
 coolly, and when the words were spoken he an 
 swered. 
 
 "Signor Cardegna," he said, "the fact that I 
 am here ought to be to you the fullest demonstra 
 tion that I acknowledge your marriage with my 
 daughter. I have certainly no intention of pro 
 longing a painful interview. When I have said 
 that my child has disobeyed me, I have said all 
 that the question holds. As for the future of you 
 two, I have naturally nothing more to say about 
 it. I cannot love a disobedient child, nor ever
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 375 
 
 shall again. For the present, we will part ; and if 
 at the end of a year my daughter is happy with 
 you, and desires to see me, I shall make no objec 
 tion to such a meeting. I need not say that if she 
 is unhappy with you, my house will always be open 
 to her if she chooses to return to it." 
 
 "No, sir, most emphatically you need not say 
 it ! " cried Nino, with blazing eyes. Lira took no 
 notice of him, but turned to go. 
 
 Hedwig would try once more to soften him, 
 though she knew it was useless. 
 
 " Father," she said, in tones of passionate en 
 treaty, " will you not say you wish me well ? Will 
 you not forgive me ? " She sprang to him, and 
 would have held him back. 
 
 " I wish you no ill," he answered, shortly, push 
 ing her aside, and he marched to the door, where 
 he paused, bowed as stiffly as ever, and disap 
 peared. 
 
 It was very rude of us, perhaps, but no one ac 
 companied him to the stairs. As for me, I would 
 not have believed it possible that any human being 
 could be so hard and relentlessly virtuous ; and if 
 I had wondered at first that Hedwig should have 
 so easily made up her mind to flight, I was no 
 longer surprised when I saw with my own eyes how 
 he could treat her. 
 
 I cannot, indeed, conceive how she could have 
 borne it so long, for the whole character of the 
 man came out, hard, cold, and narrow, such a 
 character as must be more hideous than any de-
 
 376 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 scription can paint it, when seen in the closeness of 
 daily conversation. But when he was gone the 
 sun appeared to shine again, as he had shone all 
 day, though it had sometimes seemed so dark. The 
 storms were in that little room. 
 
 As Lira went out, Nino, who had followed Hed- 
 wig closely, caught her in his arms, and once more 
 her face rested on his broad breast. I sat down 
 and pretended to be busy with a pile of old papers 
 that lay near by on the table, but I could hear 
 what they said. The dear children, they forgot all 
 about me. 
 
 " I am so sorry, dear one," said Nino, sooth 
 ingly. 
 
 " I know you are, Nino. But it cannot be 
 helped." 
 
 "But are you sorry, too, Hedwig?" he asked, 
 stroking her hair. 
 
 " That my father is angry ? Yes. I wish he 
 were not," said she, looking wistfully toward the 
 door. 
 
 " No, not that," said Nino. " Sorry that you 
 left him, I mean." 
 
 "Ah, no, I am not sorry for that. Oh, Nino, 
 dear Nino, your love is best." And again she hid 
 her face. 
 
 " We will go away at once, darling," he said, 
 after a minute, during which I did not see what 
 was going on. " "Would you like to go away? " 
 
 Hedwig moved her head to say " Yes." 
 
 " We will go, then, sweetheart. Where shall it
 
 A ROMAN SINGER. 377 
 
 be ? " asked Nino, trying to distract her thoughts 
 from what had just occurred. " London ? Paris ? 
 Vienna ? I can sing anywhere now, but you must 
 always choose, love." 
 
 " Anywhere, anywhere ; only always with you, 
 Nino, till we die together." 
 
 " Always, till we die, my beloved," he repeated. 
 The small white hands stole up and clasped about 
 his broad throat, tenderly drawing his face to hers, 
 and hers to his. And it will be "always," till they 
 die together, I think. 
 
 This is the story of that Roman singer whose 
 great genius is making such a stir in the world. 
 I have told it to you, because he is my own dear 
 boy, as I have often said in these pages ; and be 
 cause people must not think that he did wrong to 
 carry Hedwig von Lira away from her father, nor 
 that Hedwig was so very unfilial and heartless. I 
 know that they were both right, and the day will 
 come when old Lira will acknowledge it. He is a 
 hard old man, but he must have some affection for 
 her ; and if not, he will surely have the vanity to 
 own so famous an artist as Nino for his son-in-law. 
 
 I do not know how it was managed, for Hedwig 
 was certainly a heretic when she left her father, 
 though she was an angel, as Nino said. But before 
 they left Rome for Vienna there was a little wed 
 ding, early in the morning, in our parish church, 
 for I was there ; and De Pretis, who was really 
 responsible for the whole thing, got some of his
 
 378 A ROMAN SINGER. 
 
 best singers from St. Peter and St. John on the 
 Lateran to come and sing a mass over the two. 
 I think that our good Mother Church found room 
 for the dear child very quickly, and that is how it 
 happened. 
 
 They are happy and glad together, those two 
 hearts that never knew love save for each other, 
 and they will be happy always. For it was nothing 
 but love with them from the very first, and so it 
 must be to the very last. Perhaps you will say 
 that there is nothing in this story, either, but love. 
 And if so, it is well ; for where there is naught 
 else there can surely be no sinning, or wrong-doing, 
 or weakness, or meanness ; nor yet anything that 
 is not quite pure and undefiled. 
 
 Just as I finish this writing, there comes a letter 
 from Nino to say that he has taken steps about 
 buying Serveti, and that I must go there in the 
 spring with Mariuccia and make it ready for him. 
 Dear Serveti, of course I will go.
 
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 *#* For sale by all Booksellers. Sent, post-paid, on receipt of price (in 
 check on Boston or New York, money-order, or registered letter) by the 
 Publishers, 
 
 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY, 
 
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 NEW YORK. 
 
 A, Catalogue containing portraits of many of the above authors, 
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 to any address.
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
 Los Angeles 
 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
 NOV 14 19 it 
 
 Form L9-Series 4939
 
 
 3 1158 00735 7022 5 
 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL L BRARYFAC LITY 
 
 R66 
 1884 
 
 A 001 384 681 1