LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 DAVIS 
 
BETRAYED AND BY YOU ! " HE CRIED AGAIN. 
 
 -Saracinesca, 
 
THE COMPLETE WORKS OF 
 
 F. MARION CRAWFORD 
 
 In Thirty-two Volumes <& Authorized Edition 
 
 SARACINESCA 
 
 BY 
 
 F. MARION CRAWFORD 
 
 WITH FRONTISPIECE 
 
 P. F. COLLIER 6- SON 
 NEW YORK 
 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 
NOTE 
 
 IT was at first feared that the name Saracinesca, 
 as it is now printed, might be attached to an unused 
 title in the possession of a Roman house. The name 
 was therefore printed with an additional consonant 
 " Sarracinesca " in the pages of ' Black wood's Maga 
 zine.' After careful inquiry, the original spelling is 
 now restored. 
 
 SORRENTO, March 1887. 
 
SAEACINESCA. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 IN the year 1865 Eome was still in a great measure its old 
 self. It had not then acquired that modern air which is 
 now beginning to pervade it. The Corso had not been 
 widened and whitewashed ; the Villa Aldobrandini had 
 not been cut through to make the Via Nazionale; the 
 south wing of the Palazzo Colonna still looked upon a 
 narrow lane through which men hesitated to pass after 
 dark; the Tiber's course had not then been corrected 
 below the Farnesina ; the Farnesina itself was but just 
 under repair; the iron bridge at the Ripetta was not 
 dreamed of; and the Prati di Castello were still, as their 
 name implies, a series of waste meadows. At the southern 
 extremity of the city, the space between the fountain of 
 Moses and the newly erected railway station, running 
 past the Baths of Diocletian, was still an exercising- 
 ground for the French cavalry. Even the people in the 
 streets then presented an appearance very different from 
 that which is now observed by the visitors and foreigners 
 who come to Kome in the winter. French dragoons and 
 hussars, French infantry and French officers, were every 
 where to be seen in great numbers, mingled with a goodly 
 sprinkling of the Papal Zouaves, whose grey Turco uni- 
 
2 SARACINESCA. 
 
 forms with bright red facings, red sashes, and short 
 yellow gaiters, gave colour to any crowd. A fine corps of 
 men they were, too, counting hundreds of gentlemen in 
 their ranks, and officered by some of the best blood in 
 France and Austria. In those days also were to be seen 
 the great coaches of the cardinals, with their gorgeous 
 footmen and magnificent black horses, the huge red um 
 brellas lying upon the top, while from the open windows 
 the stately princes of the Church from time to time re 
 turned the salutations of the pedestrians in the street. 
 And often in the afternoon there was heard the tramp of 
 horse as a detachment of the noble guards trotted down 
 the Corso on their great chargers, escorting the holy 
 Father himself, while all who met him dropped upon 
 one knee and uncovered their heads to receive the bene 
 diction of the mild-eyed old man with the beautiful fea 
 tures, the head of Church and State. Many a time, too, 
 Pius IX. would descend from his coach and walk upon 
 the Pincio, all clothed in white, stopping sometimes to 
 talk with those who accompanied him, or to lay his gen 
 tle hand on the fair curls of some little English child 
 that paused from its play in awe and admiration as the 
 Pope went by. For he loved children well, and most of 
 all, children with golden hair angels, not Angles, as 
 Gregory said. 
 
 As for the fashions of those days, it is probable that 
 most of us would suffer severe penalties rather than re 
 turn to them, beautiful as they then appeared to us by 
 contrast with the exaggerated crinoline and flower-garden 
 bonnet, which had given way to the somewhat milder 
 form of hoop-skirt madness, but had not yet flown to the 
 opposite extreme in the invention of the close-fitting 
 princesse garments of 1868. But, to each other, people 
 looked then as they look now. Fashion in dress, concern 
 ing which nine-tenths of society gives itself so much 
 trouble, appears to exercise less influence upon men and 
 women in their relations towards each other than does any 
 other product of human ingenuity. Provided every one is 
 
SARACINESCA. 3 
 
 in the fashion, everything goes on in the age of high heels 
 and gowns tied back precisely as it did five-and-twenty 
 years ago, when people wore flat shoes, and when gloves 
 with three buttons had not been dreamed of when a 
 woman of most moderate dimensions occupied three or 
 four square yards of space upon a ball-room floor, and 
 men wore peg-top trousers. Human beings since the 
 days of Adam seem to have retired like caterpillars into 
 cocoons of dress, expecting constantly the wondrous hour 
 when they shall emerge from their self-woven prison in 
 the garb of the angelic butterfly, having entered into the 
 chrysalis state as mere human grubs. But though they 
 both toil and spin at their garments, and vie with Solo 
 mon in his glory to outshine the lily of the field, the 
 humanity of the grub shows no signs of developing 
 either in character or appearance in the direction of 
 anything particularly angelic. 
 
 It was not the dress of the period which gave to the 
 streets of Rome their distinctive feature. It would be 
 hard to say, now that so much is changed, wherein the 
 peculiar charm of the old-time city consisted ; but it was 
 there, nevertheless, and made itself felt so distinctly 
 beyond the charm of any other place, that the very fas 
 cination of Rome was proverbial. Perhaps no spot in 
 Europe has ever possessed such an attractive individu 
 ality. In those days there were many foreigners, too, as 
 there are to-day, both residents and visitors ; but they 
 seemed to belong to a different class of humanity. They 
 seemed less inharmonious to their surroundings then than 
 now, less offensive to the general air of antiquity. Prob 
 ably they were more in earnest ; they came to Rome with 
 the intention of liking the place, rather than of abusing 
 the cookery in the hotels. They came with a certain 
 knowledge of the history, the literature, and the man 
 ners of the ancients, derived from an education which in 
 those days taught more through the classics and less 
 through handy text-books and shallow treatises concern 
 ing the Renaissance ; they came with preconceived no- 
 
4 SABACINESCA. 
 
 tions which were often strongly dashed with old-fash 
 ioned prejudice, but which did not lack originality : they 
 come now in the smattering mood, imbued with no genu 
 ine beliefs, but covered with exceeding thick varnish. Old 
 gentlemen then visited the sights in the morning, and 
 quoted Horace to each other, and in the evening endeav 
 oured by associating with Romans to understand some 
 thing of Rome ; young gentlemen now spend one or two 
 mornings in finding fault with the architecture of Bra- 
 mante, and "in the evening," like David's enemies, 
 " they grin like a dog and run about the city : " young 
 women were content to find much beauty in the galleries 
 and in the museums, and were simple enough to admire 
 what they liked ; young ladies of the present day can 
 find nothing to admire except their own perspicacity in 
 detecting faults in Raphael's drawing or Michael Angelo's 
 colouring. This is the age of incompetent criticism in 
 matters artistic, and no one is too ignorant to volunteer an 
 opinion. It is sufficient to have visited half-a-dozen Ital 
 ian towns, and to have read a few pages of fashionable 
 aesthetic literature no other education is needed to fit 
 the intelligent young critic for his easy task. The art of 
 paradox can be learned in five minutes, and practised by 
 any child ; it consists chiefly in taking two expressions 
 of opinion from different authors, halving them, and unit 
 ing the first half of the one with the second half of the 
 other. The result is invariably startling, and generally 
 incomprehensible. When a young society critic knows 
 how to be startling and incomprehensible, his reputation 
 is soon made, for people readily believe that what they 
 cannot understand is profound, and anything which as 
 tonishes is agreeable to a taste deadened by a surfeit of 
 spices. But in 1865 the taste of Europe was in a very 
 different state. The Second Empire was in its glory. M. 
 Emile Zola had not written his ' Assommoir.' Count Bis 
 marck had only just brought to a successful termination 
 the first part of his trimachy ; Sadowa and Sedan were 
 yet unfought. Garibaldi had won Naples, and Cavour 
 
SAKACINESCA. 5 
 
 had said, " If we did for ourselves what we are doing for 
 Italy, we should be great scoundrels ; " but Garibaldi had 
 not yet failed at Mentana, nor had Austria ceded Venice. 
 Cardinal Antonelli had yet ten years of life before him 
 in which to maintain his gallant struggle for the remnant 
 of the temporal power; Pius IX. was to live thirteen 
 years longer, just long enough to outlive by one month 
 the " honest king," Victor Emmanuel. Antonelli's influ 
 ence pervaded Borne, and to a great extent all the Catho 
 lic Courts of Europe ; yet he was far from popular with 
 the Romans. The Jesuits, however, were even less 
 popular than he, and certainly received a much larger 
 share of abuse. For the Romans love faction more than 
 party, and understand it better ; so that popular opinion 
 is too frequently represented by a transitory frenzy, vio 
 lent and pestilent while it lasts, utterly insignificant 
 when it has spent its fury. 
 
 But Kome in those days was peopled solely by Romans, 
 whereas now a large proportion of the population consists 
 of Italians from the north and south, who have been 
 attracted to the capital by many interests races as differ 
 ent from its former citizens as Germans or Spaniards, and 
 unfortunately not disposed to show overmuch good-fellow 
 ship or loving-kindness to the original inhabitants. The 
 Roman is a grumbler by nature, but he is also a " peace- 
 at-any-price " man. Politicians and revolutionary agents 
 have more than once been deceived by these traits, sup 
 posing that because the Roman grumbled he really desired 
 change, but realising too late, when the change has been 
 begun, that that same Roman is but a lukewarm partisan. 
 The Papal Government repressed grumbling as a nuisance, 
 and the people consequently took a delight in annoying 
 the authorities by grumbling in secret places and calling 
 themselves conspirators. The harmless whispering of 
 petty discontent was mistaken by the Italian party for the 
 low thunder of a smothered volcano ; but, the change being 
 brought about, the Italians find to their disgust that the 
 Roman meant nothing by his murmurings, and that he 
 
6 SAKACINESCA. 
 
 now not only still grumbles at everything, but takes the 
 trouble to fight the Government at every point which con 
 cerns the internal management of the city. In the days 
 before the change, a paternal Government directed the 
 affairs of the little State, and thought it best to remove 
 all possibility of strife by giving the grumblers no voice in 
 public or economic matters. The grumblers made a griev 
 ance of this ; and then, as soon as the grievance had been 
 redressed, they redoubled their complaints and retrenched 
 themselves within the infallibility of inaction, on the prin 
 ciple that men who persist in doing nothing cannot possibly 
 do wrong. 
 
 Those were the days, too, of the old school of artists 
 men who, if their powers of creation were not always pro 
 portioned to their ambition for excellence, were as superior 
 to their more recent successors in their pure conceptions 
 of what art should be as Apelles was to the Pompeian 
 wall-painters, and as the Pompeians were to modern house- 
 decorators. The age of Overbeck and the last religious 
 painters was almost past, but the age of fashionable artis 
 tic debauchery had hardly begun. Water-colour was in 
 its infancy j wood-engraving was hardly yet a great pro 
 fession ; but the " Dirty Boy " had not yet taken a prize 
 at Paris, nor had indecency become a fine art. The French 
 school had not demonstrated the startling distinction be 
 tween the nude and the naked, nor had the English school 
 dreamed nightmares of anatomical distortion. 
 
 Darwin's theories had been propagated, but had not yet 
 been passed into law, and very few Romans had heard of 
 them ; still less had any one been found to assert that the 
 real truth of these theories would be soon demonstrated 
 retrogressively by the rapid degeneration of men into apes, 
 while apes would hereafter have cause to congratulate 
 themselves upon not having developed into men. Many 
 theories also were then enjoying vast popularity which 
 have since fallen low in the popular estimation. Prussia 
 was still, in theory, a Power of the second class, and the 
 empire of Louis Napoleon was supposed to possess ele- 
 
SARACINESCA. 7 
 
 ments of stability. The great civil war in the United 
 States had just been fought, and people still doubted 
 whether the republic would hold together. It is hard to 
 recall the common beliefs of those times. A great part 
 of the political creed of twenty years ago seems now a 
 mass of idiotic superstition, in no wise preferable, as 
 Macaulay would have said, to the Egyptian worship of 
 cats and onions. Nevertheless, then, as now, men met 
 together secretly in cellars and dens, as well as in draw 
 ing-rooms and clubs, and whispered together, and said 
 their theories were worth something, and ought to be tried. 
 The word republic possessed then, as now, a delicious 
 attraction for people who had grievances ; and although, 
 after the conquest of Naples, Garibaldi had made a sort of 
 public abjuration of republican principles, so far as Italy 
 was concerned, the plotters of all classes persisted in coup 
 ling his name with the idea of a commonwealth erected on 
 the plan of "sois rnon frere ou je te tue." Profound 
 silence on the part of Governments, and a still more 
 guarded secrecy on the part of conspiring bodies, were 
 practised as the very first principle of all political opera 
 tions. No copyist, at half-a-crown an hour, had yet be 
 trayed the English Foreign Office ; and it had not dawned 
 upon the clouded intellects of European statesmen that 
 deliberate national perjury, accompanied by public meet 
 ings of sovereigns, and much blare of many trumpets, 
 could be practised with such triumphant success as events 
 have since shown. In the beginning of the year 1865 
 people crossed the Alps in carriages ; the Suez Canal had 
 not been opened ; the first Atlantic cable was not laid ; 
 German unity had not been invented ; Pius IX. reigned 
 in the Pontifical States ; Louis Napoleon was the idol of 
 the French ; President Lincoln had not been murdered, 
 is anything needed to widen the gulf which separates 
 those times from these ? The difference between the 
 States of the world in 1865 and in 1885 is nearly as 
 great as that which divided the Europe of 1789 from the 
 Europe of 1814. 
 
8 SAEACINESCA. 
 
 But my business is with Rome, and not with Europe 
 at large. I intend to tell the story of certain persons, of 
 their good and bad f ortune, their adventures, and the com 
 plications in which they found themselves placed during a 
 period of about twenty years. The people of whom I tell 
 this story are chiefly patricians ; and in the first part of 
 their history they have very little to do with any but their 
 own class a class peculiar and almost unique in the world. 
 
 Speaking broadly, there is no one at once so thoroughly 
 Koman and so thoroughly non-Roman as the Bornan noble. 
 This is no paradox, no play on words. Roman nobles are 
 Eoman by education and tradition j by blood they are 
 almost cosmopolitans. The practice of intermarrying with 
 the great families of the rest of Europe is so general as 
 to be almost a rule. One Roman prince is an English 
 peer ; most of the Roman princes are grandees of Spain ; 
 many of them have married daughters of great French 
 houses, of reigning German princes, of ex-kings and ex- 
 queens. In one princely house alone are found the fol 
 lowing combinations : There are three brothers : the eldest 
 married first the daughter of a great English peer, and 
 secondly the daughter of an even greater peer of France ; 
 the second brother married first a German " serene high 
 ness," and secondly the daughter of a great Hungarian 
 noble ; the third brother married the daughter of a French 
 house of royal Stuart descent. This is no solitary instance. 
 A score of families might be cited who, by constant foreign 
 marriages, have almost eliminated from their blood the 
 original Italian element ; and this great intermixture of 
 races may account for the strangely un-Italian types that 
 are found among them, for the undying vitality which 
 seems to animate races already a thousand years old, and 
 above all, for a very remarkable cosmopolitanism which 
 pervades Roman society. A set of people whose near re 
 lations are socially prominent in every capital of Europe, 
 could hardly be expected to have anything provincial about 
 them in appearance or manners ; still less can they be con 
 sidered to be types of their own nation. And yet such is 
 
SABACmESCA. 9 
 
 the force of tradition, of the patriarchal family life, of the 
 early surroundings in which are placed these children of 
 a mixed race, that they acquire from their earliest years 
 the unmistakable outward manner of Romans, the broad 
 Eoman speech, and a sort of clannish and federative spirit, 
 which has not its like in the same class anywhere in 
 Europe. They grow up together, go to school together, go 
 together into the world, and together discuss all the social 
 affairs of their native city. Not a house is bought or sold, 
 not a hundred francs won at e'carte', not a marriage con 
 tract made, without being duly considered and commented 
 upon by the whole of society. And yet, though there is 
 much gossip, there is little scandal ; there was even less 
 twenty years ago than there is now not, perhaps, be 
 cause the increment of people attracted to the new capi 
 tal have had any bad influence, but simply because the 
 city has grown much larger, and in some respects has out 
 grown a certain simplicity of manners it once possessed, 
 and which was its chief safeguard. For, in spite of a 
 vast number of writers of all nations who have at 
 tempted to describe Italian life, and who, from an imper 
 fect acquaintance with the people, have fallen into the 
 error of supposing them to live perpetually in a highly 
 complicated state of mind, the foundation of the Italian 
 character is simple far more so than that of his heredi 
 tary antagonist, the northern European. It is enough to 
 notice that the Italian habitually expresses what he feels, 
 while it is the chief pride of Northern men that what 
 ever they may feel they express nothing. The chief ob 
 ject of most Italians is to make life agreeable ; the chief 
 object of the Teutonic races is to make it profitable. 
 Hence the Italian excels in the art of pleasing, and in 
 pleasing by means of the arts ; whereas the Northern 
 man is pre-eminent in the faculty of producing wealth 
 under any circumstances, and when he has amassed 
 enough possessions to think of enjoying his leisure, has 
 generally been under the necessity of employing South 
 ern art as a means to that end. But Southern simplicity 
 
10 SABACINESCA. 
 
 carried to its ultimate expression leads not uncommonly 
 to startling results ; for it is not generally a satisfaction 
 to an Italian to be paid a sum of money as damages for 
 an injury done. When his enemy has harmed him, he 
 desires the simple retribution afforded by putting his 
 enemy to death, and he frequently exacts it by any 
 means that he finds ready to his hand. Being simple, he 
 reflects little, and often acts with violence. The North 
 ern mind, capable of vast intricacy of thought, seeks to 
 combine revenge of injury with personal profit, and in a 
 spirit of cold, far-sighted calculation, reckons up the ad 
 vantages to be got by sacrificing an innate desire for 
 blood to a civilised greed of money. 
 
 Dr Johnson would have liked the Romans for in gen 
 eral they are good lovers and good haters, whatever faults 
 they may have. The patriarchal system, which was all 
 but universal twenty years ago, and is only now beginning 
 to yield to more modern institutions of life, tends to foster 
 the passions of love and hate. Where father and mother 
 sit at the head and foot of the table, their sons with their 
 wives and their children each in his or her place, often to 
 the number of twenty souls all living under one roof, one 
 name, and one bond of family unity there is likely to be 
 a great similarity of feeling upon all questions of family 
 pride, especially among people who discuss everything with 
 vehemence, from European politics to the family cook. 
 They may bicker and squabble among themselves, and 
 they frequently do, but in their outward relations with 
 the world they act as one individual, and the enemy of one 
 is the enemy of all ; for the pride of race and name is very 
 great. There is a family in Rome who, since the memory 
 of man, have not failed to dine together twice every week, 
 and there are now more than thirty persons who take their 
 places at the patriarchal board. No excuse can be pleaded 
 for absence, and no one would think of violating the rule. 
 Whether such a mode of life is good or not is a matter of 
 opinion ; it is, at all events, a fact, and one not generally 
 understood or even known by persons who make studies 
 
SAEACDTESCA. 11 
 
 of Italian character. Free and constant discussion of all 
 manner of topics should certainly tend to widen the intel 
 ligence ; "but, on the other hand, where the dialecticians 
 are all of one race, and name, and blood, the practice 
 may often merely lead to an undue development of pre 
 judice. In Eome, particularly, where so many families 
 take a distinct character from the influence of a foreign 
 mother, the opinions of a house are associated with its 
 mere name. Casa Borghese thinks so and so, Casa Colonna 
 has diametrically opposite views, while Casa Altieri may 
 differ wholly from both; and in connection with most 
 subjects the mere names Borghese, Altieri, Colonna are 
 associated in the minds of Romans of all classes with 
 distinct sets of principles and ideas, with distinct types 
 of character, and with distinctly different outward and 
 visible signs of race. Some of these conditions exist 
 among the nobility of other countries, but not, I believe, 
 to the same extent. In Germany, the aristocratic body 
 takes a certain uniform hue, so to speak, from the army, 
 in which it plays so important a part, and the patriarchal 
 system is broken up by the long absences from the 
 ancestral home of the soldier-sons. In France, the main 
 divisions of republicans, monarchists, and imperialists 
 have absorbed and unified the ideas and principles of 
 large bodies of families into bodies politic. In England, 
 the practice of allowing younger sons to shift for them 
 selves, and the division of the whole aristocracy into 
 two main political parties, destroy the patriarchal spirit; 
 while it must also be remembered, that at a period when 
 in Italy the hand of every house was against its neigh 
 bour, and the struggles of Guelph and Ghibelline were 
 but an excuse for the prosecution of private feuds, Eng 
 land was engaged in great wars which enlisted vast 
 bodies of men under a common standard for a common 
 principle. Whether the principle involved chanced to 
 be that of English domination in France, or whether 
 men flocked to the standards of the White Eose of York 
 or the Bed Rose of Lancaster, was of little importance ; 
 
12 SAKACINESCA. 
 
 the result was the same, the tendency of powerful 
 families to maintain internecine traditional feuds was 
 stamped out, or rather was absorbed in the maintenance 
 of the perpetual feud between the great principles of 
 Tory and Whig of the party for the absolute monarch, 
 and the party for the freedom of the people. 
 
 Be the causes what they may, the Roman nobility has 
 many characteristics peculiar to it and to no other aris 
 tocracy. It is cosmopolitan by its foreign marriages, re 
 newed in every generation ; it is patriarchal and feudal 
 by its own unbroken traditions of family life ; and it is 
 only essentially Roman by its speech and social customs. 
 It has undergone great vicissitudes during twenty years ; 
 but most of these features remain in spite of new and 
 larger parties, new and bitter political hatreds, new ideas 
 of domestic life, and new fashions in dress and cookery. 
 
 In considering an account of the life of Giovanni Sara- 
 cinesca from the time when, in 1865, he was thirty years 
 of age, down to the present day, it is therefore just that he 
 should be judged with a knowledge of some of these pecu 
 liarities of his class. He is not a Roman of the people 
 like Giovanni Cardegna, the great tenor, and few of his 
 ideas have any connection with those of the singer ; but 
 he has, in common with him, that singular simplicity of 
 character which he derives from his Roman descent upon 
 the male side, and in which will be found the key to many 
 of his actions both good and bad a simplicity which loves 
 peace, but cannot always refrain from sudden violence, 
 which loves and hates strongly and to some purpose. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 The hour was six o'clock, and the rooms of the Embassy 
 were as full as they were likely to be that day. There 
 would doubtless have been more people had the weather 
 
SARACESTESCA. 13 
 
 been fine ; but it was raining heavily, and below, in the 
 vast court that formed the centre of the palace, the lamps 
 of fifty carriages gleamed through the water and the dark 
 ness, and the coachmen, of all dimensions and characters, 
 sat beneath their huge umbrellas and growled to each 
 other, envying the lot of the footmen who were congre 
 gated in the ante-chamber up-stairs around the great 
 bronze braziers. But in the reception-rooms there was 
 much light and warmth; there were bright fires and 
 softly shaded lamps ; velvet - footed servants stealing 
 softly among the guests, with immense burdens of tea 
 and cake ; men of more or less celebrity chatting about 
 politics in corners ; women of more or less beauty gossip 
 ing over their tea, or flirting, or wishing they had some 
 body to flirt with j people of many nations and ideas, with 
 a goodly leaven of Romans. They all seemed endeavour 
 ing to get away from the men and women of their own 
 nationality, in order to amuse themselves with the dif 
 ficulties of conversation in languages not their own. 
 Whether they amused themselves or not is of small im 
 portance ; but as they were all willing to find themselves 
 together twice a-day for the five months of the Eoman 
 season from the first improvised dance before Christ 
 mas, to the last set ball in the warm April weather after 
 Easter it may be argued that they did not* dislike each 
 other's society. In case the afternoon should seem dull, 
 his Excellency had engaged the services of Signer Stril- 
 lone, the singer. Erom time to time he struck a few 
 chords upon the grand piano, and gave forth a song of his 
 own composition in loud and passionate tones, varied with 
 very sudden effects of extreme pianissimo, which occa 
 sionally surprised some one who was trying to make his 
 conversation heard above the music. 
 
 There was a little knot of people standing about the 
 door of the great drawing-room. Some of them were 
 watching their opportunity to slip away unperceived; 
 others had just arrived, and were making a survey of the 
 scene to ascertain the exact position of their Excellencies,, 
 
14 SAKACINESCA. 
 
 and of the persons they most desired to avoid, before com 
 ing forward. Suddenly, just as Signer Strillone had 
 reached a high note and was preparing to bellow upon it 
 before letting his voice die away to a pathetic falsetto, the 
 crowd at the door parted a little. A lady entered the 
 room alone, and stood out before the rest, pausing till 
 the singer should have passed the climax of his song, be 
 fore she proceeded upon her way. She was a very striking 
 woman ; every one knew who she was, every one looked 
 towards her, and the little murmur that went round the 
 room was due to her entrance rather than to Signer 
 Strillone's high note. 
 
 The Duchessa d'Astrardente stood still, and quietly 
 looked about her. A minister, two secretaries, and three 
 or four princes sprang towards her, each with a chair in 
 hand ; but she declined each offer, nodding to one, thank 
 ing another by name, and exchanging a few words with a 
 third. She would not sit down ; she had not yet spoken 
 to the ambassadress. 
 
 Two men followed her closely as she crossed the room 
 when the song was finished. One was a fair man of five- 
 and-thirty, rather stout, and elaborately dressed. He trod 
 softly and carried his hat behind him, while he leaned a 
 little forward in his walk. There was something unpleas 
 ant about his face, caused perhaps by his pale complexion 
 and almost colourless moustache ; his blue eyes were small 
 and near together, and had a watery, undecided look ; his 
 thin fair hair was parted in the middle over his low fore 
 head ; there was a scornful look about his mouth, though 
 half concealed by the moustache ; and his chin retreated 
 rather abruptly from his lower lip. On the other hand, he 
 was dressed with extreme care, and his manner showed no 
 small confidence in himself as he pushed forwards, keep 
 ing as close as he could to the Duchessa. He had the air 
 of being thoroughly at home in his surroundings. 
 
 Ugo del Eerice was indeed rarely disconcerted, and his 
 self-reliance was most probably one chief cause of his suc 
 cess. He was a man who performed the daily miracle of 
 
SAKACINESCA. 15 
 
 creating everything for himself out of nothing. His father 
 had barely been considered a member of the lower nobil 
 ity, although he always called himself "dei conti del 
 Ferice " of the family of the counts of his name ; but 
 where or when the Conti del Ferice had lived, was a ques 
 tion he never was able to answer satisfactorily. He had 
 made a little money, and had squandered most of it be 
 fore he died, leaving the small remainder to his only son, 
 who had spent every scudo of it in the first year. But to 
 make up for the exiguity of his financial resources, Ugo 
 had from his youth obtained social success. He had be 
 gun life by boldly calling himself " II conte del Ferice." 
 No one had ever thought it worth while to dispute him 
 the title ; and as he had hitherto not succeeded in confer 
 ring it upon any dowered damsel, the question of his 
 countship was left unchallenged. He had made many ac 
 quaintances in the college where he had been educated ; 
 for his father had paid for his schooling in the Collegio 
 dei Nobili, and that in itself was a passport for as the 
 lad grew to the young man, he zealously cultivated the 
 society of his old school-fellows, and by wisely avoiding 
 all other company, acquired a right to be considered one 
 of themselves. He was very civil and obliging in his 
 youth, and had in that way acquired a certain reputation 
 for being indispensable, which had stood him in good stead. 
 No one asked whether he had paid his tailor's bill ; or 
 whether upon certain conditions, his tailor supplied him 
 with raiment gratis. He was always elaborately dressed, 
 he was always ready to take a hand at cards, and he was 
 always invited to every party in the season. He had 
 cultivated with success the science of amusing, and 
 people asked him to dinner in the winter, and to their 
 country houses in the summer. He had been seen in 
 Paris, and was often seen at Monte Carlo ; but his real 
 home and hunting-ground was Kome, where he knew 
 every one and every one knew him. He had made one 
 or two fruitless attempts to marry young women of 
 American extraction and large fortune ; he had not sue- 
 
16 SABACINESCA. 
 
 ceeded in satisfying the paternal mind in regard to 
 guarantees, and had consequently been worsted in his 
 endeavours. Last summer, however, it appeared that he 
 had been favoured with an increase of fortune. He gave 
 out that an old uncle of his, who had settled in the south 
 of Italy, had died, leaving him a modest competence; 
 and while assuming a narrow band of cr&pe upon his hat, 
 he had adopted also a somewhat more luxurious mode of 
 living. Instead of going about on foot or in cabs, he 
 kept a very small coupe, with a very small horse and a 
 diminutive coachman : the whole turn-out was very quiet 
 in appearance, but very serviceable withal. Ugo some 
 times wore too much jewellery ; but his bad taste, if so 
 it could be called, did not extend to the modest equipage. 
 People accepted the story of the deceased uncle, and con 
 gratulated Ugo, whose pale face assumed on such occa 
 sions a somewhat deprecating smile. "A few scudi," 
 he would answer " a very small competence ; but what 
 would you have ? I need so little it is enough for me." 
 Nevertheless people who knew him well warned him that 
 he was growing stout. 
 
 The other man who followed the Duchessa d'Astrardente 
 across the drawing-room was of a different type. Don 
 Giovanni Saracinesca was neither very tall nor remark 
 ably handsome, though in the matter of his beauty opinion 
 varied greatly. He was very dark almost as dark for a 
 man as the Duchessa was for a woman. He was strongly 
 built, but very lean, and his features stood out in bold and 
 sharp relief from the setting of his short black hair and 
 pointed beard. His nose was perhaps a little large for his 
 face, and the unusual brilliancy of his eyes gave him an 
 expression of restless energy ; there was something noble 
 in the shaping of his high square forehead and in the turn 
 of his sinewy throat. His hands were broad and brown, 
 but nervous and well knit, with straight long fingers and 
 squarely cut nails. Many women said Don Giovanni was 
 the handsomest man in Rome ; others said he was too 
 dark or too thin, and that his face was hard and his 
 
SARACINESCA. 17 
 
 features ugly. There was a great difference of opinion 
 in regard to his appearance. Don Giovanni was not 
 married, but there were few marriageable women in Rome 
 who would not have been overjoyed to become his wife. 
 But hitherto he had hesitated or, to speak more accu 
 rately, he had not hesitated at all in his celibacy. His 
 conduct in refusing to marry had elicited much criticism, 
 little of which had reached his ears. He cared not much 
 for what his friends said to him, and not at all for the 
 opinion of the world at large, in consequence of which 
 state of mind people often said he was selfish a view 
 taken extensively by elderly princesses with unmarried 
 daughters, and even by Don Giovanni's father and only 
 near relation, the old Prince Saracinesca, who earnestly 
 desired to see his name perpetuated. Indeed Giovanni 
 would have made a good husband, for he was honest and 
 constant by nature, courteous by disposition, and con 
 siderate by habit and experience. His reputation for 
 wildness rested rather upon his taste for dangerous 
 amusements than upon such scandalous adventures as 
 made up the lives of many of his contemporaries. But 
 to all matrimonial proposals he answered that he was 
 barely thirty years of age, that he had plenty of time 
 before him, that he had not yet seen the woman whom 
 he would be willing to marry, and that he intended to 
 please himself. 
 
 The Duchessa d'Astrardente made her speech to her 
 hostess and passed on, still followed by the two men; 
 but they now approached her, one on each side, and 
 endeavoured to engage her attention. Apparently she 
 intended to be impartial, for she sat down in the middle 
 one of three chairs, and motioned to her two compan 
 ions to seat themselves also, which they immediately 
 did, whereby they became for the moment the two most 
 important men in the room. 
 
 Corona d'Astrardente was a very dark woman. In all 
 the Southern land there were no eyes so black as hers, 
 no cheeks of such a warm dark-olive tint, no tresses of 
 
18 6ABACINESCA. 
 
 such raven hue. But if she was not fair, she was very 
 beautiful ; there was a delicacy in her regular features 
 that artists said was matchless ; her mouth, not small, but 
 generous and nobly cut, showed perhaps more strength, 
 more even determination, than most men like to see in 
 women's faces ; but in the exquisitely moulded nostrils 
 there lurked much sensitiveness and the expression of 
 much courage ; and the level brow and straight-cut nose 
 were in their clearness as an earnest of the noble thoughts 
 that were within, and that so often spoke from the depths 
 of her splendid eyes. She was not a scornful beauty, 
 though her face could express scorn well enough. Where 
 another woman would have shown disdain, she needed 
 but to look grave, and her silence did the rest. She 
 wielded magnificent weapons, and wielded them nobly, 
 as she did all things. She needed all her strength, too, 
 for her position from the first was not easy. She had 
 few troubles, but they were great ones, and she bore 
 them bravely. 
 
 One may well ask why Corona del Carmine had mar 
 ried the old man who was her husband the broken-down 
 and worn-out dandy of sixty, whose career was so well 
 known, and whose doings had been as scandalous as his 
 ancient name was famous in the history of his country. 
 Her marriage was in itself almost a tragedy. It mat 
 ters little to know how it came about ; she accepted As- 
 trardente with his dukedom, his great wealth, and his 
 evil past, on the day when she left the convent where 
 she had been educated ; she did it to save her father 
 from ruin, almost from starvation; she was seventeen 
 years of age ; she was told that the world was bad, and 
 she resolved to begin her life by a heroic sacrifice ; she 
 took the step heroically, and no human being had ever 
 heard her complain. Five years had elapsed since then, 
 and her father for whom she had given all she had, her 
 self, her beauty, her brave heart, and her hopes of happi 
 ness her old father, whom she so loved, was dead, the 
 last of his race, saving only this beautiful but childless 
 
SARACINESCA. 19 
 
 daughter. What she suffered now whether she suffered 
 at all no man knew. There had been a wild burst of 
 enthusiasm when she appeared first in society, a univer 
 sal cry that it was a sin and a shame. But the cynics 
 who had said she would console herself had been obliged 
 to own their worldly wisdom at fault ; the men of all 
 sorts who had lost their hearts to her were ignominiously 
 driven in course of time to find them again elsewhere. 
 Amid all the excitement of the first two years of her life 
 in the world, Corona had moved calmly upon her way, 
 wrapped in the perfect dignity of her character ; and the 
 old Duca d'Astrardente had smiled and played with the 
 curled locks of his wonderful wig, and had told every 
 one that his wife was the one woman in the universe who 
 was above suspicion. People had laughed incredulously 
 at first ; but as time wore on they held their peace, tacitly 
 acknowledging that the aged fop was right as usual, but 
 swearing in their hearts that it was the shame of shames 
 to see the noblest woman in their midst tied to such a 
 wretched remnant of dissipated humanity as the Duca 
 d'Astrardente. Corona went everywhere, like other 
 people ; she received in her own house a vast number of 
 acquaintances ; there were a few friends who came and 
 went much as they pleased, and some of them were 
 young ; but there was never a breath of scandal breathed 
 about the Duchessa. She was indeed above suspicion. 
 
 She sat now between two men who were evidently 
 anxious to please her. The position was not new ; she 
 was, as usual, to talk to both, and yet to show no prefer 
 ence for either. And yet she had a preference, and in her 
 heart she knew it was a strong one. It was by no means 
 indifferent to her which of those two men left her side 
 and which remained. She was above suspicion yes, 
 above the suspicion of any human being besides herself, 
 as she had been for five long years. She knew that had 
 her husband entered the room and passed that way, he 
 would have nodded to Giovanni Saracinesca as carelessly 
 as though Giovanni had been his wife's brother as care- 
 
20 SABACINESCA. 
 
 lessly as he would have noticed Ugo del Ferice upon her 
 other side. But in her own heart she knew that there 
 was but one face in all Rome she loved to see, but one 
 voice she loved, and dreaded too, for it had the power to 
 make her life seem unreal, till she wondered how long it 
 would last, and whether there would ever be any change. 
 The difference between G-iovanni and other men had 
 always been apparent. Others would sit beside her and 
 make conversation, and then occasionally would make 
 speeches she did not care to hear, would talk to her of 
 love some praising it as the only thing worth living for, 
 some with affected cynicism scoffing at it as the greatest 
 of unrealities, contradicting themselves a moment later 
 in some passionate declaration to herself. When they 
 were foolish, she laughed at them j when they went too 
 far, she quietly rose and left them. Such experiences 
 had grown rare of late, for she had earned the reputation 
 of being cold and unmoved, and that protected her. But 
 Giovanni had never talked like the rest of them. He 
 never mentioned the old, worn subjects that the others 
 harped upon. She would not have found it easy to say 
 what he talked about, for he talked indifferently about 
 many subjects. She was not sure whether he spent more 
 time with her when in society than with other women ; 
 she reflected that he was not so brilliant as many men she 
 knew, not so talkative as the majority of men she met ; 
 she knew only and it was the thing she most bitterly 
 reproached herself with that she preferred his face 
 above all other faces, and his voice beyond all voices. It 
 never entered her head to think that she loved him ; it 
 was bad enough in her simple creed that there should be 
 any man whom she would rather see than not, and whom 
 she missed when he did not approach her. She was a 
 very strong and loyal woman, who had sacrificed herself 
 to a man who knew the world very thoroughly, who in 
 the thoroughness of his knowledge was able to see that 
 the world is not all bad, and who, in spite of all his evil 
 deeds % was proud of his wife's loyalty. Astrardente had 
 
SARACINESCA. 21 
 
 made a bargain when he married Corona ; but he was a 
 wise man in his generation, and he knew and valued her 
 when he had got her. He knew the precise dangers to 
 which she was exposed, and he was not so cruel as to 
 expose her to them willingly. He had at first watched 
 keenly the effect produced upon her by conversing with 
 men of all sorts in the world, and among others he had 
 noticed Giovanni ; but he had come to the conclusion 
 that his wife was equal to any situation in which she 
 might be placed. Moreover, Giovanni was not an habitut 
 at the Palazzo Astrardente, and showed none of the usual 
 signs of anxiety to please the Duchessa. 
 
 From the time when Corona began to notice her own 
 predilection for Saracinesca, she had been angry with her 
 self for it, and she tried to avoid him ; at all events, she 
 gave him no idea that she liked him especially. Her hus 
 band, who at first had delivered many lectures on the sub 
 ject of behaviour in the world, had especially warned her 
 against showing any marked coldness to a man she wished 
 to shun. " Men," said he, " are accustomed to that ; they 
 regard it as the first indication that a woman is really in 
 terested ; when you want to get rid of a man, treat him sys 
 tematically as you treat everybody, and he will be wounded 
 at your indifference and go away." But Giovanni did not 
 go, and Corona began to wonder whether she ought not 
 to do something to break the interest she felt in him. 
 
 At the present moment she wanted a cup of tea. She 
 would have liked to send Ugo del Ferice for it ; she did 
 what she thought least pleasant to herself, and she sent 
 Giovanni. The servants who were serving the refresh 
 ments had all left the room, and Saracinesca went in pur 
 suit of them. As soon as he was gone Del Ferice spoke. 
 His voice was soft, and had an insinuating tone in it. 
 
 "They are saying that Don Giovanni is to be married," 
 he remarked, watching .the Duchessa from the corners of 
 his eyes as he indifferently delivered himself of his news. 
 
 The Duchessa was too dark a woman to show emotion 
 easily. Perhaps she did not believe the story ; her eyes 
 
 Vol. 102 
 
22 SAKACINBSCA. 
 
 fixed themselves on some distant object in the room, as 
 though she were intensely interested in something she 
 saw, and she paused before she answered. 
 
 " That is news indeed, if it is true. And whom is he 
 going to marry ? " 
 
 " Donna Tullia Mayer, the widow of the financier. 
 She is immensely rich, and is some kind of cousin of the 
 Saracinesca." 
 
 "How strange!" exclaimed Corona. "I was just look 
 ing at her. Is not that she over there, with the green 
 feathers ? " 
 
 " Yes," answered Del Ferice, looking in the direction 
 the Duchessa indicated. " That is she. One may know 
 her at a vast distance by her dress. But it is not all 
 settled yet." 
 
 " Then one cannot congratulate Don Giovanni to 
 day ? " asked the Duchessa, facing her interlocutor 
 rather suddenly. 
 
 " No," he answered ; " it is perhaps better not to speak 
 to him about it." 
 
 " It is as well that you warned me, for I would cer 
 tainly have spoken." 
 
 "I do not imagine that Saracinesca likes to talk of his 
 affairs of the heart," said Del Ferice, with considerable 
 gravity. " But here he comes. I had hoped he would 
 have taken even longer to get that cup of tea." 
 
 " It was long enough for you to tell your news," an 
 swered Corona quietly, as Don Giovanni came up. 
 
 " What is the news ? " asked he, as he sat down beside 
 her. 
 
 "Only an engagement that is not yet announced," 
 answered the Duchessa. "Del Ferice has the secret; 
 perhaps he will tell you." 
 
 Giovanni glanced across her at the fair pale man, whose 
 fat face, however, expressed nothing. Seeing he was not 
 enlightened, Saracinesca civilly turned the subject. 
 
 " Are you going to the meet to-morrow, Duchessa ? " he 
 asked. 
 
SAKACINESCA. 23 
 
 " That depends upon the weather and upon the Duke," 
 she answered. " Are you going to follow ? " 
 
 " Of course. What a pity it is that you do not ride ! " 
 
 "It seems such an unnatural thing to see a woman 
 hunting," remarked Del Ferice, who remembered to have 
 heard the Duchessa say something of the kind, and was 
 consequently sure that she would agree with him. 
 
 "You do not ride yourself," said Don Giovanni, shortly. 
 "That is the reason you do not approve of it for ladies." 
 
 "I am not rich enough to hunt," said Ugo, modestly. 
 " Besides, the other reason is a good one ; for when ladies 
 hunt I am deprived of their society." 
 
 The Duchessa laughed slightly. She never felt less 
 like laughing in her life, and yet it was necessary to 
 encourage the conversation. Giovanni did not abandon 
 the subject. 
 
 "It will be a beautiful meet," he said. "Many people 
 are going out for the first time this year. There is a man 
 here who has brought his horses from England. I forget 
 his name a rich Englishman." 
 
 " I have met him," said Del Ferice, who was proud of 
 knowing everybody. "He is a type enormously rich 
 a lord I cannot pronounce his name not married 
 either. He will make a sensation in society. He won 
 races in Paris last year, and they say he will enter one of 
 his hunters for the steeplechases here at Easter." 
 
 " That is a great inducement to go to the meet, to see 
 this Englishman," said the Duchessa rather wearily, as 
 she leaned back in her chair. Giovanni was silent, but 
 showed no intention of going. Del Ferice, with an equal 
 determination to stay, chattered vivaciously. 
 
 " Don Giovanni is quite right," he continued. " Every 
 one is going. There will be two or three drags. Madame 
 Mayer has induced Valdarno to have out his four-in-hand, 
 and to take her and a large party." 
 
 The Duchessa did not hear the remainder of Del Fence's 
 speech, for at the mention of Donna Tullia now com 
 monly called Madame Mayer she instinctively turned 
 
24 SARACINESCA. 
 
 and looked at Giovanni. He, too, had caught the name, 
 though he was not listening in the least to Ugo's chatter ; 
 and as he met Corona's eyes he moved uneasily, as much 
 as to say he wished the fellow would stop talking. A 
 moment later Del Ferice rose from his seat ; he had seen 
 Donna Tullia passing near, and thought the opportunity 
 favourable for obtaining an invitation to join the party 
 on the drag. With a murmured excuse which Corona did 
 not hear, he went in pursuit of his game. 
 
 " I thought he was never going," said Giovanni, moodily. 
 He was not in the habit of posing as the rival of any one 
 who happened to be talking to the Duchessa. He had 
 never said anything of the kind before, and Corona ex 
 perienced a new sensation, not altogether unpleasant. She 
 looked at him in some surprise. 
 
 " Do you not like Del Ferice ? " she inquired, gravely. 
 
 " Do you like him yourself ? " he asked in reply. 
 
 " What a question ! Why should I like or dislike any 
 one ? " There was perhaps the smallest shade of bitter 
 ness in her voice as she asked the question she had so 
 often asked herself. Why should she like Giovanni 
 Saracinesca, for instance ? 
 
 " I do not know what the world would be like if we 
 had no likes and dislikes," said Giovanni, suddenly. " It 
 would be a poor place ; perhaps it is only a poor place at 
 best. I merely wondered whether Del Ferice amused you 
 as he amuses everybody." 
 
 "Well then, frankly, he has not amused me to-day," 
 answered Corona, with a smile. 
 
 " Then you are glad he is gone ? " 
 
 " I do not regret it." 
 
 "Duchessa," said Giovanni, suddenly changing his 
 position, "I am glad he is gone, because I want to ask 
 you a question. Do I know you well enough to ask you 
 a question ? " 
 
 " It depends " Corona felt the blood rise suddenly 
 
 to her dark forehead. Her hands burned intensely in her 
 gloves. The anticipation of something she had never 
 
SAKACINESCA. 25 
 
 heard made her heart beat uncontrollably in her 
 breast. 
 
 " It is only about myself/ 7 continued Giovanni, in low 
 tones. He had seen the blush, so rare a sight that there 
 was not another man in Borne who had seen it. He had 
 not time to think what it meant. " It is only about my 
 self," he went on. " My father wants me to marry ; he 
 insists that I should marry Donna Tullia Madame 
 Mayer. 7 ' 
 
 " Well ? 77 asked Corona. She shivered ; a moment be 
 fore, she had been oppressed with the heat. Her mono 
 syllabic question was low and indistinct. She wondered 
 whether Giovanni could hear the beatings of her heart, so 
 slow, so loud they almost deafened her. 
 
 " Simply this. Do you advise me to marry her ? " 
 
 " Why do you ask me, of all people ? 77 asked Corona, 
 faintly. 
 
 "I would like to have your advice/ 7 said Giovanni, 
 twisting his brown hands together and fixing his bright 
 eyes upon her face. 
 
 "She is young yet. She is handsome she is fabu 
 lously rich. Why should you not marry her ? Would 
 she make you happy ? 77 
 
 " Happy ? Happy with her ? No indeed. Do you think 
 life would be bearable with such a woman ? 77 
 
 " I do not know. Many men would marry her if they 
 could 77 
 
 " Then you think I should ? 77 asked Giovanni. Corona 
 hesitated ; she could not understand why she should care, 
 and yet she was conscious that there had been no such 
 struggle in her life since the day she had blindly resolved 
 to sacrifice herself to her fathers wishes in accepting 
 Astrardente. Still there could be no doubt what she 
 should say : how could she advise any one to marry with 
 out the prospect of the happiness she had never had ? 
 
 " Will you not give me your counsel ? 77 repeated Sara- 
 cinesca. He had grown very pale, and spoke with such 
 earnestness that Corona hesitated no longer. 
 
26 SAEACINESCA. 
 
 " I would certainly advise you to think no more about 
 it, if you are sure that you cannot be happy with her." 
 
 Giovanni drew a long breath, the blood returned to his 
 face, and his hands unlocked themselves. 
 
 " I will think no more about it," he said. " Heaven 
 bless you for your advice, Duchessa ! " 
 
 " Heaven grant I have advised you well ! " said Co 
 rona, almost inaudibly. " How cold this house is ! 
 Will you put down my cup of tea ? Let us go near the 
 fire ; Strillone is going to sing again/ 7 
 
 " I would like him to sing a l Nunc diniittis, Domine,' 
 for me," murmured Giovanni, whose eyes were filled with 
 a strange light. 
 
 Half an hour later Corona d' Astrardente went down the 
 steps of the Embassy wrapped in her furs and preceded 
 by her footman. As she reached the bottom Giovanni 
 Saracinesca came swiftly down and joined her as her car 
 riage drove up out of the dark courtyard. The footman 
 opened the door, but Giovanni put out his hand to help 
 Corona to mount the step. She laid her small gloved 
 fingers upon the sleeve of his overcoat, and as she sprang 
 lightly in she thought his arm trembled. 
 
 " Good night, Duchessa j I am very grateful to you," he 
 said. 
 
 " Good night ; why should you be grateful ? " she 
 asked, almost sadly. 
 
 Giovanni did not answer, but stood hat in hand as the 
 great carriage rolled out under the arch. Then he but 
 toned his greatcoat, and went out alone into the dark and 
 muddy streets. The rain had ceased, but everything was 
 wet, and the broad pavements gleamed under the uncer 
 tain light of the flickering gas-lamps. 
 
SARACINESCA. 27 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 The palace of the Saracinesca is in an ancient quarter 
 of Rome, far removed from the broad white streets of 
 mushroom, dwelling-houses and machine-laid macadam; 
 far from the foreigners' region, the varnish of the fash 
 ionable shops, the whirl of brilliant equipages, and the 
 scream of the newsvendor. The vast irregular buildings 
 are built around three courtyards, and face on all sides 
 upon narrow streets. The first sixteen feet, up to the 
 heavily ironed windows of the lower storey, consist of 
 great blocks of stone, worn at the corners and scored 
 along their length by the battering of ages, by the heavy 
 carts that from time immemorial have found the way too 
 narrow and have ground their iron axles against the mas 
 sive masonry. Of the three enormous arched gates that 
 give access to the interior from different sides, one is 
 closed by an iron grating, another by huge doors studded 
 with iron bolts, and the third alone is usually open as an 
 entrance. A tall old porter used to stand there in a long 
 livery-coat and a cocked-hat ; on holidays he appeared in 
 the traditional garb of the Parisian " Suisse," magnificent 
 in silk stockings and a heavily laced coat of dark green, 
 leaning upon his tall mace a constant object of wonder 
 to the small boys of the quarter. He trimmed his white 
 beard in imitation of his master's broad and square 
 and his words were few and to the point. 
 
 No one was ever at home in the Palazzo Saracinesca in 
 those days ; there were no ladies in the house ; it was a 
 man's establishment, and there was something severely 
 masculine in the air of the gloomy courtyards surrounded 
 by dark archways, where not a single plant or bit of 
 colour relieved the ancient stone. The pavement was 
 clean and well kept, a new flagstone here and there show 
 ing that some care was bestowed upon maintaining it in 
 good repair ; but for any decoration there was to be found 
 in the courts, the place might have been a fortress, as 
 
28 SARACINESCA. 
 
 indeed it once was. The owners, father and son, lived 
 in their ancestral home in a sort of solemn magnificence 
 that savoured of feudal times. Giovanni was the only 
 son of five-and-twenty years of wedlock. His mother 
 had been older than his father, and had now been dead 
 some time. She had been a stern dark woman, and had 
 lent no feminine touch of grace to the palace while she 
 lived in it, her melancholic temper rather rejoicing in 
 the sepulchral gloom that hung over the house. The 
 Saracinesca had always been a manly race, preferring 
 strength to beauty, and the reality of power to the amen 
 ities of comfort. 
 
 Giovanni walked home from the afternoon reception at 
 the Embassy. His temper seemed to crave the bleak wet 
 air of the cold streets, and he did not hurry himself. He 
 intended to dine at home that evening, and he anticipated 
 some kind of disagreement with his father. The two men 
 were too much alike not to be congenial, but too comba 
 tive by nature to care for eternal peace. On the present 
 occasion it was likely that there would be a struggle, for 
 Giovanni had made up his mind not to marry Madame 
 Mayer, and his father was equally determined that he 
 should marry her at once : both were singularly strong 
 men, singularly tenacious of their ^opinions. 
 
 At precisely seven o'clock father and son entered from 
 different doors the small sitting-room in which they gene 
 rally met, and they had no sooner entered than dinner 
 was announced. Two words might suffice for the descrip 
 tion of old Prince Saracinesca he was an elder edition of 
 his son. Sixty years of life had not bent his strong 
 frame nor dimmed the brilliancy of his eyes, but his hair 
 and beard were snowy white. He was broader in the 
 shoulder and deeper in the chest than Giovanni, but of 
 the same height, and well proportioned still, with little 
 tendency to stoutness. He was to all appearance pre 
 cisely what his son would be at his age keen and vigor 
 ous, the stern lines of his face grown deeper, and his 
 very dark eyes and complexion made more noticeable by 
 
SARACINESCA. 29 
 
 the dazzling whiteness of his hair and broad square 
 beard the same type in a different stage of develop 
 ment. 
 
 The dinner was served with a certain old-fashioned 
 magnificence which has grown rare in Rome. There was 
 old plate and old china upon the table, old cut glass of the 
 diamond pattern, and an old butler who moved noise 
 lessly about in the performance of the functions he had 
 exercised in the same room for forty years, and which 
 his father had exercised there before him. Prince Sara- 
 cinesca and Don Giovanni sat on opposite sides of the 
 round table, now and then exchanging a few words. 
 
 "I was caught in the rain this afternoon," remarked 
 the Prince. 
 
 " I hope you will not have a cold," replied his son, 
 civilly. " Why do you walk in such weather ? " 
 
 " And you why do you walk ? " retorted his father. 
 " Are you less likely to take cold than I am ? I walk 
 because I have always walked." 
 
 " That is an excellent reason. I walk because I do not 
 keep a carriage." 
 
 " Why do not you keep one if you wish to ? " asked the 
 Prince. 
 
 " I will do as you wish. I will buy an equipage to 
 morrow, lest I should again walk in the rain and catch 
 cold. Where did you see me on foot ? " 
 
 "In the Orso, half an hour ago. Why do you talk 
 about my wishes in that absurd way ? " 
 
 " Since you say it is absurd, I will not do so," said Gio 
 vanni, quietly. 
 
 "You are always contradicting me," said the Prince. 
 " Some wine, Pasquale." 
 
 " Contradicting you ? " repeated Giovanni. " Nothing 
 could be further from my intentions." 
 
 The old Prince slowly sipped a glass of wine before he 
 answered. 
 
 "Why do not you set up an establishment for yourself 
 and live like a gentleman ? " he asked at length. " You 
 
30 SARACINESCA. 
 
 are rich why do you go about on foot and dine in 
 cafe's ? " 
 
 "Do I ever dine at a cafe when you are dining 
 alone ? " 
 
 " You have got used to living in restaurants in Paris," 
 retorted his father. " It is a bad habit. What was the 
 use of your mother leaving you a fortune, unless you will 
 live in a proper fashion ? " 
 
 " I understand you very well," answered Giovanni, his 
 dark eyes beginning to gleam. " You know all that is 
 a pretence. I am the most home-staying man of your 
 acquaintance. It is a mere pretence. You are going to 
 talk about my marriage again." 
 
 " And has any one a more natural right to insist upon 
 your marriage than I have ? " asked the elder man, hotly. 
 " Leave the wine on the table, Pasquale and the fruit 
 here. Give Don Giovanni his cheese. I will ring for the 
 coffee leave us." The butler and the footman left the 
 room. " Has any one a more natural right, I ask ? " re 
 peated the Prince when they were alone. 
 
 " No one but myself, I should say," answered Giovanni, 
 bitterly. 
 
 " Yourself yourself indeed ! What have you to say 
 about it? This is a family matter. Would you have 
 Saracinesca sold, to be distributed piecemeal among a 
 herd of dogs of starving relations you never heard of, 
 merely because you are such a vagabond, such a Bohe 
 mian, such a break-neck, crazy good-for-nothing, that you 
 will not take the trouble to accept one of all the women 
 who rush into your arms ? " 
 
 " Your affectionate manner of speaking of your rela 
 tives is only surpassed by your good taste in describing 
 the probabilities of my marriage," remarked Giovanni, 
 scornfully. 
 
 " And you say you never contradict me ! " exclaimed 
 the Prince, angrily. 
 
 " If this is an instance, I can safely say so. Comment 
 is not contradiction." 
 
SARACINESCA. 31 
 
 " Do you mean to say you have not repeatedly refused 
 to marry ? " inquired old Saracinesca. 
 
 " That would be untrue. I have refused, I do refuse, 
 and I will refuse, just so long as it pleases me." 
 
 " That is definite, at all events. You will go on refus 
 ing until you have broken your silly neck in imitating 
 Englishmen, and then good night, Saracinesca ! The 
 last of the family will have come to a noble end ! " 
 
 "If the only use of my existence is to become the 
 father of heirs to your titles, I do not care to enjoy them 
 myself." 
 
 "You will not enjoy them till my death, at all events. 
 Did you evor reflect that I might marry again ? " 
 
 " If you please to do so, do not hesitate on my account. 
 Madame Mayer will accept you as soon as me. Marry 
 by all means, and may you have a numerous progeny ; 
 and may they all marry in their turn, the day they are 
 twenty. I wish you joy." 
 
 "You are intolerable, Giovanni. I should think you 
 would have more respect for Donna Tullia " 
 
 " Than to call her Madame Mayer," interrupted Gio 
 vanni. 
 
 "Than to suggest that she cares for nothing but a 
 title and a fortune " 
 
 " You showed much respect to her a moment ago, when 
 you suggested that she was ready to rush into my arms." 
 
 " I ! I never said such a thing. I said that any 
 woman " 
 
 "Including Madame Mayer, of course," interrupted 
 Giovanni again. 
 
 " Can you not let me speak ? " roared the Prince. Gio 
 vanni shrugged his shoulders a little, poured out a glass 
 of wine, and helped himself to cheese, but said nothing. 
 Seeing that his son said nothing, old Saracinesca was 
 silent too ; he was so angry that he had lost the thread 
 of his ideas. Perhaps Giovanni regretted the quarrelsome 
 tone he had taken, for he presently spoke to his father 
 in a more conciliatory tone. 
 
32 SABACINESCA. 
 
 " Let us be just," he said. " I will listen to you, and 
 I shall be glad if you will listen to me. In the first 
 place, when I think of marriage I represent something to 
 myself by the term " 
 
 " I hope so," growled the old man. 
 
 "I look upon marriage as an important step in a man's 
 life. I am not so old as to make my marriage an imme 
 diate necessity, nor so young as to be able wholly to dis 
 regard it. I do not desire to be hurried; for when I 
 make up my mind, I intend to make a choice which, if it 
 does not ensure happiness, will at least ensure peace. I 
 do not wish to marry Madame Mayer. She is young, 
 handsome, rich " 
 
 " Very," ejaculated the Prince. 
 
 " Very. I also am young and rich, if not handsome." 
 
 "Certainly not handsome," said his father, who was 
 nursing his wrath, and meanwhile spoke calmly. " You 
 are the image of me." 
 
 " I am proud of the likeness," said Giovanni, gravely. 
 " But to return to Madame Mayer. She is a widow " 
 
 " Is that her fault ? " inquired his father irrelevantly, 
 his anger rising again. 
 
 " I trust not," said Giovanni, with a smile. " I trust 
 she did not murder old Mayer. Nevertheless she is a 
 widow. That is a strong objection. Have any of my 
 ancestors married widows ? " 
 
 "You show your ignorance at every turn," said the old 
 Prince, with a scornful laugh. "Leone Saracinesca 
 married the widow of the Elector of Limburger-Stinken- 
 stein in 1581." 
 
 " It is probably the German blood in our veins which 
 gives you your taste for argument," remarked Giovanni. 
 " Because three hundred years ago an ancestor married 
 a widow, I am to marry one now. Wait do not be 
 angry there are other reasons why I do not care for 
 Madame Mayer. She is too gay for me too fond of the 
 world." 
 
 The Prince burst into a loud ironical laugh. His white 
 
SAKACINESCA. 33 
 
 hair and beard bristled about his dark face, and he 
 showed all his teeth, strong and white still. 
 
 " That is magnificent ! " he cried ; " it is superb, 
 splendid, a piece of unpurchasable humour! Giovanni 
 Saracinesca has found a woman who is too gay for him ! 
 Heaven be praised! We know his taste at last. We 
 will give him a nun, a miracle of all the virtues, a little 
 girl out of a convent, vowed to a life of sacrifice and self- 
 renunciation. That will please him he will be a model 
 happy husband." 
 
 "I do not understand this extraordinary outburst," 
 answered Giovanni, with cold scorn. "Your mirth is 
 amazing, but I fail to understand its source." 
 
 His father ceased laughing, and looked at him curi 
 ously, his heavy brows bending with the intenseness of 
 his gaze. Giovanni returned the look, and it seemed as 
 though those two strong angry men were fencing across 
 the table with their fiery glances. The son was the first 
 to speak. 
 
 "Do you mean to imply that I am not the kind of 
 man to be allowed to marry a young girl ? " he asked, 
 not taking his eyes from his father. 
 
 " Look you, boy," returned the Prince, " I will have no 
 more nonsense. I insist upon this match, as I have told 
 you before. It is the most suitable one that I can find 
 for you ; and instead of being grateful, you turn upon 
 me and refuse to do your duty. Donna Tullia is twenty- 
 three years of age. She is brilliant, rich. There is 
 nothing against her. She is a distant cousin " 
 
 " One of the flock of vultures you so tenderly referred 
 to," remarked Giovanni. 
 
 " Silence ! " cried old Saracinesca, striking his heavy 
 hand upon the table so that the glasses shook together. 
 " I will be heard j and what is more, I will be obeyed. 
 Donna Tullia is a relation. The union of two such for 
 tunes will be of immense advantage to your children. 
 There is everything in favour of the match nothing 
 against it. You shall marry her a month from to-day, 
 
34 SARACINESCA. 
 
 I will give you the title of Sant' Ilario, with the estate 
 outright into the bargain, and the palace in the Corso to 
 live in, if you do not care to live here." 
 
 " And if I refuse ? " asked Giovanni, choking down 
 his anger. 
 
 " If you refuse, you shall leave my house a month from 
 to-day," said the Prince, savagely. 
 
 " Whereby I shall be fulfilling your previous commands, 
 in setting up an establishment for myself and living like 
 a gentleman," returned Giovanni, with a bitter laugh. 
 " It is nothing to me if you turn me out. I am rich, 
 as you justly observed." 
 
 " You will have the more leisure to lead the life you 
 like best," retorted the Prince ; " to hang about in society, 
 
 to go where you please, to make love to " the old man 
 
 stopped a moment. His son was watching him fiercely, 
 his hand clenched upon the table, his face as white as death. 
 
 " To whom ? " he asked, with a terrible effort to be calm. 
 
 " Do you think I am afraid of you ? Do you think 
 your father is less strong or less fierce than you ? To 
 whom ? " cried the angry old man, his whole pent-up 
 fury bursting out as he rose suddenly to his feet. " To 
 whom but to Corona d'Astrardente to whom else should 
 you make love ? wasting your youth and life upon a 
 mad passion ! All Rome says it I will say it too ! " 
 
 " You have said it indeed," answered Giovanni, in a very 
 low voice. He remained seated at the table, not moving 
 a muscle, his face as the face of the dead. " You have 
 said it, and in insulting that lady you have said a thing 
 not worthy for one of our blood to say. God help me to 
 remember that you are my father," he added, trembling 
 suddenly. 
 
 " Hold ! " said the Prince, who, with all his ambition 
 for his son, and his hasty temper, was an honest gentle 
 man. " I never insulted her she is above suspicion. 
 It is you who are wasting your life in a hopeless passion 
 for her. See, I speak calmly " 
 
 " What does i all Rome say ' ? " asked Giovanni, inter- 
 
SABACINESCA. 35 
 
 rnpting him. He was still deadly pale, but his hand 
 was unclenched, and as he spoke he rested his head upon 
 it, looking down at the tablecloth. 
 
 " Everybody says that you are in love with the Astrar- 
 dente, and that her husband is beginning to notice it." 
 
 " It is enough, sir," said Giovanni, in low tones. " I 
 will consider this marriage you propose. Give me until 
 the spring to decide." 
 
 " That is a long time," remarked the old Prince, resum 
 ing his seat and beginning to peel an orange, as though 
 nothing had happened. He was far from being calm, but 
 his son's sudden change of manner had disarmed his anger. 
 He was passionate and impetuous, thoughtless in his lan 
 guage, and tyrannical in his determination ; but he loved 
 Giovanni dearly for all that. 
 
 " I do not think it long," said Giovanni, thoughtfully. 
 " I give you my word that I will seriously consider the 
 marriage. If it is possible for me to marry Donna Tullia, 
 I will obey you, and I will give you my answer before 
 Easter-day. I cannot do more." 
 
 " I sincerely hope you will take my advice," answered 
 Saracinesca, now entirely pacified. " If you cannot make 
 up your mind to the match, I may be able to find some 
 thing else. There is Bianca Valdarno she will have a 
 quarter of the estate." 
 
 "She is so very ugly," objected Giovanni, quietly. 
 He was still much agitated, but he answered his father 
 mechanically. 
 
 "That is true they are all ugly, those Valdarni. 
 Besides, they are of Tuscan origin. What do you say 
 to the little Rocca girl? She has great chic; she was 
 brought up in England. She is pretty enough." 
 
 " I am afraid she would be extravagant." 
 
 "She could spend her own money then; it will be 
 sufficient." 
 
 " It is better to be on the safe side," said Giovanni. 
 Suddenly he changed his position, and again looked at 
 his father. " I am sorry we always quarrel about this 
 
36 SARACINESCA. 
 
 question," he said. " I do not really want to marry, but 
 I wish to oblige you, and I will try. Why do we always 
 come to words over it ? " 
 
 "I am sure I do not know," said the Prince, with a 
 pleasant smile. "I have such a diabolical temper, I 
 suppose." 
 
 "And I have inherited it," answered Don Giovanni, 
 with a laugh that was meant to be cheerful. "But I 
 quite see your point of view. I suppose I ought to settle 
 in life by this time." 
 
 " Seriously, I think so, my son. Here is to your future 
 happiness," said the old gentleman, touching his glass 
 with his lips. 
 
 " And here is to our future peace," returned Giovanni, 
 also drinking. 
 
 " We never really quarrel, Giovanni, do we ? " said his 
 father. Every trace of anger had vanished. His strong 
 face beamed with an affectionate smile that was like the 
 sun after a thunderstorm. 
 
 " No, indeed," answered his son, cordially. " We can 
 not afford to quarrel ; there are only two of us left." 
 
 " That is what I always say," assented the Prince, be 
 ginning to eat the orange he had carefully peeled since he 
 had grown calm. " If two men like you and me, niy boy, 
 can thoroughly agree, there is nothing we cannot accom 
 plish ; whereas if we go against each other " 
 
 " Justitia non fit, coelum vero met," suggested Giovanni, 
 in parody of the proverb. 
 
 " I am a little rusty in my Latin, Giovannino," said the 
 old gentleman. 
 
 "Heaven is turned upside down, but justice is not done." 
 
 "No ; one is never just when one is angry. But storms 
 clear the sky, as they say up at Saracinesca." 
 
 "By the bye, have you heard whether that question of 
 the timber has been settled yet ? " asked Giovanni. 
 
 " Of course I had forgotten. I will tell you all about 
 it," answered his father, cheerfully. So they chatted 
 peacefully for another half -hour ; and no one would have 
 
SAKACINESCA. 37 
 
 thought, in looking at them, that such fierce passions had 
 been roused, nor that one of them felt as though his death- 
 warrant had been signed. When they separated, Giovanni 
 went to his own rooms, and locked himself in. 
 
 He had assumed an air of calmness which was not real 
 before he left his father. In truth he was violently agi 
 tated. He was as fiery as his father, but his passions 
 were of greater strength and of longer duration ; for his 
 mother had been a Spaniard, and something of the melan 
 choly of her country had entered into his soul, giving 
 depth and durability to the hot Italian character he 
 inherited from his father. Nor did the latter suspect the 
 cause of his son's sudden change of tone in regard to the 
 marriage. It was precisely the difference in tempera 
 ment which made Giovanni incomprehensible to the old 
 Prince. 
 
 Giovanni had realised for more than a year past that 
 he loved Corona d'Astrardente. Contrary to the custom 
 of young men in his position, he determined from the first 
 that he would never let her know it ; and herein lay the 
 key to all his actions. He had, as he thought, made a 
 point of behaving to her on all occasions as he behaved 
 to the other women he met in the world, and he believed 
 that he had skilfully concealed his passion from the world 
 and from the woman he loved. He had acted on all occa 
 sions with a circumspection which was not natural to him, 
 and for which he undeniably deserved great credit. It 
 had been a year of constant struggles, constant efforts at 
 self-control, constant determination that, if possible, he 
 would overcome his instincts. It was true that, when 
 occasion offered, he had permitted himself the pleasure 
 of talking to Corona d'Astrardente talking, he well 
 knew, upon the most general subjects, but finding at 
 each interview some new point of sympathy. Never, he 
 could honestly say, had he approached in that time the 
 subject of love, nor even the equally dangerous topic of 
 friendship, the discussion of which leads to so many 
 ruinous experiments. He had never by look or word 
 
38 SARACINESOA. 
 
 sought to interest the dark Duchessa in his doings nor. in 
 himself; he had talked of books, of politics, of social 
 questions, but never of himself nor of herself. He had 
 faithfully kept the promise he had made in his heart, 
 that since he was so unfortunate as to love the wife of 
 another a woman of such nobility that even in Borne 
 no breath had been breathed against her he would keep 
 his unfortunate passion to himself. Astrardente was old, 
 almost decrepit, in spite of his magnificent wig ; Corona 
 was but two-and-twenty years of age. If ever her hus 
 band died, Giovanni would present himself before the 
 world as her suitor ; meanwhile he would do nothing to 
 injure her self-respect nor to disturb her peace he hardly 
 flattered himself he could do that, for he loved her truly 
 and above all, he would do nothing to compromise the 
 unsullied reputation she enjoyed. She might never love 
 him; but he was strong and patient, and would do her 
 the only honour it was in his power to do her, by waiting 
 patiently. 
 
 But Giovanni had not considered that he was the most 
 conspicuous man in society ; that there were many who 
 watched his movements, in hopes he would come their 
 way; that when he entered a room, many had noticed 
 that, though he never went directly to Corona's side, he 
 always looked first towards her, and never omitted to 
 speak with her in the course of an evening. Keen ob 
 servers, the jays of society who hover about the eagle's 
 nest, had not failed to observe a look of annoyance on 
 Giovanni's face when he did not succeed in being alone 
 by Corona's side for at least a few minutes; and Del 
 Ferice, who was a sort of news-carrier in Borne, had now 
 and then hinted that Giovanni was in love. People had 
 repeated his hints, as he intended they should, with the 
 illuminating wit peculiar to tale-bearers, and the story had 
 gone abroad accordingly. True, there was not a man in 
 Borne bold enough to allude to the matter in Giovanni's 
 presence, even if any one had seen any advantage in so 
 doing ; but such things do not remain hidden. His own 
 
SARACINESCA. 39 
 
 father had told him in a fit of anger, and the blow kad 
 produced its effect. 
 
 Giovanni sat down in a deep easy-chair in his own 
 room, and thought over the situation. His first impulse 
 had been to be furiously angry with his father ; but the 
 latter having instantly explained that there was nothing 
 to be said against the Duchessa, Giovanni's anger against 
 the Prince had turned against himself. It was bitter to 
 think that all his self-denial, all his many and prolonged 
 efforts to conceal his love, had been of no avail. He 
 cursed his folly and imprudence, while wondering how it 
 was possible that the story should have got abroad. He 
 did not waver in his determination to hide his inclina 
 tions, to destroy the impression he had so unwillingly pro 
 duced. The first means he found in his way seemed the 
 best. To marry Donna Tullia at once, before the story of 
 his affection for the Duchessa had gathered force, would, 
 he thought, effectually shut the mouths of the gossips. 
 From one point of view it was a noble thought, the deter 
 mination to sacrifice himself wholly and for ever, rather 
 than permit his name to be mentioned ever so innocently 
 in connection with the woman he loved; to root out 
 utterly his love for her by seriously engaging his faith to 
 another, and keeping that engagement with all the 
 strength of fidelity he knew himself to possess. He 
 would save Corona from annoyance, and her name from 
 the scandal-mongers ; and if any one ever dared to men 
 tion the story 
 
 Giovanni rose to his feet and mechanically took a 
 fencing-foil from the wall, as he often did for practice. 
 If any one mentioned the story, he thought, he had the 
 means to silence them, quickly and for ever. His eyes 
 flashed suddenly at the idea of action any action, even 
 fighting, which might be distantly connected with Corona. 
 Then he tossed down the rapier and threw himself into 
 his chair, and sat quite still, staring at the trophies of 
 armour upon the wall opposite. 
 
 He could not do it. To wrong one woman for the sake 
 
40 SAKACINESCA. 
 
 of shielding another was not in his power. People might 
 laugh at him and call him Quixotic, forsooth, because he 
 would not do like every one else and make a marriage of 
 convenience of propriety. Propriety ! when his heart 
 was breaking within him ; when every fibre of his strong 
 frame quivered with the strain of passion ; when his ach 
 ing eyes saw only one face, and his ears echoed the words 
 she had spoken that very afternoon ! Propriety indeed ! 
 Propriety was good enough for cold-blooded dullards. 
 Donna Tullia had done him no harm that he should marry 
 her for propriety's sake, and make her life miserable for 
 thirty, forty, fifty years. It would be propriety rather 
 for him to go away, to bury himself in the ends of the 
 earth, until he could forget Corona d'Astrardente, her 
 splendid eyes, and her deep sweet voice. 
 
 He had pledged his father his word that he would con 
 sider the marriage, and he was to give his answer before 
 Easter. That was a long time yet. He would consider 
 it ; and if by Eastertide he had forgotten Corona, he would 
 
 he laughed aloud in his silent room, and the sound of 
 
 his voice startled him from his reverie. 
 
 Forget ? Did such men as he forget ? Other men did. 
 What were they made of ? They did not love such women, 
 perhaps ; that was the reason they forgot. Any one could 
 forget poor Donna Tullia. And yet how was it possible 
 to forget if one loved truly ? 
 
 Giovanni had never believed himself in love before. 
 He had known one or two women who had attracted him 
 strongly ; but he had soon found out that he had no real 
 sympathy with them, that though they amused him they 
 had no charm for him most of all, that he could not 
 imagine himself tied to any one of them for life without 
 conceiving the situation horrible in the extreme. To his 
 independent nature the idea of such ties was repugnant : 
 he knew himself too courteous to break through the civil 
 ities of life with a wife he did not love ; but he knew also 
 that in marrying a woman who was indifferent to him, he 
 would be engaging to play a part for life in the most 
 
SARACINESCA. 41 
 
 fearful of all plays the part of a man who strives to bear 
 bravely the galling of a chain he is too honourable to break. 
 It was four o'clock in the morning when Giovanni went 
 to bed ; and even then he slept little, for his dreams were 
 disturbed. Once he thought he stood upon a green lawn 
 with a sword in his hand, and the blood upon its point, his 
 opponent lying at his feet. Again, he thought he was 
 alone in a vast drawing-room, and a dark woman came 
 and spoke gently to him, saying, "Marry her for my sake." 
 He awoke with a groan. The church clocks were strik 
 ing eight, and the meet was at eleven, five miles beyond 
 the Porta Pia. Giovanni started up and rang for his 
 servant. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 It was a beautiful day, and half Home turned out to see 
 the meet, not because it was in any way different from 
 other meets, but because it chanced that society had a 
 fancy to attend it. Society is very like a fever patient 
 in a delirium ; it is rarely accountable for its actions ; it 
 scarcely ever knows what it is saying ; and occasionally, 
 without the least warning or premeditation, it leaps out of 
 bed at an early hour of the morning and rushes frantically 
 in pursuit of its last hallucination. The main difference 
 is, that whereas a man in a fever has a nurse, society has 
 none. 
 
 On the present occasion every one had suddenly con 
 ceived the idea of going to the meet, and the long road 
 beyond the Porta Pia was dotted for miles with equipages 
 of every description, from the four-in-hand of Prince Val- 
 darno to the humble donkey-cart of the caterer who sells 
 messes of boiled beans, and bread and cheese, and salad 
 to the grooms an institution not connected in the Eng 
 lish mind with hunting. One after another the vehicles 
 rolled out along the road, past Sant' Agnese, down the 
 
42 SARACINESCA. 
 
 hill and across the Ponte Nomentana, and far up beyond 
 to a place where three roads met and there was a broad 
 open stretch of wet, withered grass. Here the carriages 
 turned in and ranged themselves side by side, as though 
 they were pausing in the afternoon drive upon the Pincio, 
 instead of being five miles out upon the broad Campagna. 
 
 To describe the mountains to southward of Rome would 
 be an insult to nature ; to describe a meet would be an 
 affront to civilised readers of the English language. The 
 one is too familiar to everybody ; the pretty crowd of men 
 and women, dotted with pink and set off by the neutral 
 colour of the winter fields ; the hunters of all ages, and 
 sizes, and breeds, led slowly up and down by the grooms ; 
 while from time to time some rider gets into the saddle and 
 makes himself comfortable, assures himself of girth and 
 stirrup, and of the proper disposal of the sandwich-box and 
 sherry-flask, gives a final word of instruction to his groom, 
 and then moves slowly off. A Roman meet is a little 
 less business-like than the same thing elsewhere ; there is 
 a little more dawdling, a little more conversation when 
 many ladies chance to have come to see the hounds throw 
 off ; otherwise it is not different from other meets. As 
 for the Roman mountains, they are so totally unlike any 
 other hills in the world, and so extremely beautiful in their 
 own peculiar way, that to describe them would be an idle 
 and a useless task, which could only serve to exhibit the 
 vanity of the writer and the feebleness of his pen. 
 
 Don Giovanni arrived early in spite of his sleepless 
 night. He descended from his dogcart by the roadside, 
 instead of driving into the field, and he took a careful 
 survey of the carriages he saw before him. Conspicuous 
 in the distance he distinguished Donna Tullia Mayer 
 standing among a little crowd of men near Valdarno's 
 drag. She was easily known by her dress, as Del Ferice 
 had remarked on the previous evening. On this occasion 
 she wore a costume in which the principal colours were 
 green and yellow, an enormous hat, with feathers in the 
 same proportion surmounting her head, and she carried 
 
SARACINESCA. 43 
 
 a yellow parasol. She was a rather handsome woman of 
 middle height, with unnaturally blond hair, and a fairly 
 good complexion, which as yet she had wisely abstained 
 from attempting to improve by artificial means ; her eyes 
 were blue, but uncertain in their glance of the kind 
 which do not inspire confidence ; and her mouth was 
 much admired, being small and red, with full lips. She 
 was rapid in her movements, and she spoke in a loud 
 voice, easily collecting people about her wherever there 
 were any to collect. Her conversation was not brilliant, 
 but it was so abundant that its noisy vivacity passed cur 
 rent for cleverness ; she had a remarkably keen judgment 
 of people, and a remarkably bad taste in her opinions of 
 things artistic, from beauty in nature to beauty in dress, 
 but she maintained her point of view obstinately, and ad 
 mitted no contradiction. It was a singular circumstance 
 that whereas many of her attributes were distinctly vul 
 gar, she nevertheless had an indescribable air of good 
 breeding, the strange inimitable stamp of social superior 
 ity which cannot be acquired by any known process of 
 education. A person seeing her might be surprised at her 
 loud talking, amused at her eccentricities of dress, and 
 shocked at her bold manner, but no one would ever think 
 of classing her anywhere save in what calls itself " the 
 best society." 
 
 Among the men who stood talking to Donna Tullia 
 was the inevitable Del Ferice, a man of whom it might 
 be said that he was never missed, because he was always 
 present. Giovanni disliked Del Ferice without being 
 able to define his aversion. He disliked generally men 
 whom he suspected of duplicity ; and he had no reason 
 for supposing that truth, looking into her mirror, would 
 have seen there the image of Ugo's fat pale face and 
 colourless moustache. But if Ugo was a liar, he must 
 have had a good memory, for he never got himself into 
 trouble, and he had the reputation of being a useful mem 
 ber of society, an honour to which persons of doubtful 
 veracity rarely attain. Giovanni, however, disliked him, 
 
44 SARACINESCA. 
 
 and suspected him of many things ; and although he had 
 intended to go up to Donna Tullia, the sight of Del 
 Ferice at her side very nearly prevented him. He 
 strolled leisurely down the little slope, and as he neared 
 the crowd, spoke to one or two acquaintances, mentally 
 determining to avoid Madame Mayer, and to mount 
 immediately. But he was disappointed in his intention. 
 As he stood for a moment beside the carriage of the 
 Marchesa Eocca, exchanging a few words with her, and 
 looking with some interest at her daughter, the little 
 Kocca girl whom his father had proposed as a possible 
 wife for him, he forgot his proximity to the lady he 
 wished to avoid ; and when, a few seconds later, he pro 
 ceeded in the direction of his horse, Madame Mayer 
 stepped forward from the knot of her admirers and 
 tapped him familiarly upon the shoulder with the handle 
 of her parasol. 
 
 " So you were not going to speak to me to-day ? " she 
 said rather roughly, after her manner. 
 
 Giovanni turned sharply and faced her, bowing low. 
 Donna Tullia laughed. 
 
 "Is there anything so amazingly ridiculous in my ap 
 pearance ? " he asked. 
 
 " Altro ! when you make that tremendous salute " 
 
 " It was intended to convey an apology as well as a 
 greeting," answered Don Giovanni, politely. 
 
 " I would like more apology and less greeting." 
 
 " I am ready to apologise " 
 
 "Humbly, without defending yourself/ 7 said Donna 
 Tullia, beginning to walk slowly forward. Giovanni was 
 obliged to follow her. 
 
 "My defence is, nevertheless, a very good one," he 
 said. 
 
 " Well, if it is really good, I may listen to it ; but you 
 will not make me believe that you intended to behave 
 properly." 
 
 " I am in a very bad humour. I would not inflict my 
 cross temper upon you ; therefore I avoided you." 
 
SARACINESCA. 45 
 
 Donna Tullia eyed him attentively. When she an 
 swered she drew in her small red lips with an air of 
 annoyance. 
 
 " You look as though you were in bad humour," she 
 answered. " I am sorry I disturbed you. It is better to 
 leave sleeping dogs alone, as the proverb says." 
 
 " I have not snapped yet/' said Giovanni. " I am not 
 dangerous, I assure you." 
 
 " Oh, I am not in the least afraid of you," replied his 
 companion, with a little scorn. " Do not flatter yourself 
 your little humours frighten me. I suppose you intend 
 to follow ? " 
 
 " Yes," answered Saracinesca, shortly ; he was beginning 
 to weary of Donna Tullia 7 s manner of taking him to task. 
 
 "You had much better come with us, and leave the 
 poor foxes alone. Valdarno is going to drive us round by 
 the cross-roads to the Capannelle. We will have a picnic 
 lunch, and be home before three o'clock." 
 
 " Thanks very much. I cannot let my horse shirk his 
 work. I must beg you to excuse me " 
 
 " Again ? " exclaimed Donna Tullia. " You are always 
 making excuses." Then she suddenly changed her tone, 
 and looked down. " I wish you would come with us," she 
 said, gently. " It is not often I ask you to do anything." 
 
 Giovanni looked at her quickly. He knew that Donna 
 Tullia wished to marry him ; he even suspected that his 
 father had discussed the matter with her no uncommon 
 occurrence when a marriage has to be arranged with a 
 widow. But he did not know that Donna Tullia was in 
 love with him in her own odd fashion. He looked at her, 
 and he saw that as she spoke there were tears of vexation 
 in her bold blue eyes. He hesitated a moment, but nat 
 ural courtesy won the day. 
 
 "I will go with you," he said, quietly. A blush of 
 pleasure rose to Madame Mayer's pink cheeks ; she felt she 
 had made a point, but she was not willing to show her 
 satisfaction. 
 
 " You say it as though you were conferring a favour/' 
 
 Vol. 103 
 
46 SARACINESCA. 
 
 she said, with, a show of annoyance, which was belied by 
 the happy expression of her face. 
 
 " Pardon me ; I myself am the favoured person," replied 
 Giovanni, mechanically. He had yielded because he did 
 not know how to refuse ; but he already regretted it, and 
 would have given much to escape from the party. 
 
 "You do not look as though you believed it," said 
 Donna Tullia, eyeing him critically. " If you are going 
 to be disagreeable, I release you." She said this well 
 knowing, the while, that he would not accept of his 
 liberty. 
 
 " If you are so ready to release me, as you call it, you 
 do not really want me," said her companion. Donna Tullia 
 bit her lip, and there was a moment's pause. " If you will 
 excuse me a moment I will send my horse home I will 
 join you at once." 
 
 " There is your horse right before us," said Madame 
 Mayer. Even that short respite was not allowed him, and 
 she waited while Don Giovanni ordered the astonished 
 groom to take his hunter for an hour's exercise in a 
 direction where he would not fall in with the hounds. 
 
 " I did not believe you would really do it," said Donna 
 Tullia, as the two turned and sauntered back towards the 
 carriages. Most of the men who meant to follow had 
 already mounted, and the little crowd had thinned con 
 siderably. But while they had been talking another 
 carriage had driven into the field, and had halted a 
 few yards from Valdarno's drag. Astrardente had taken 
 it into his head to come to the meet with his wife, and 
 they had arrived late. Astrardente always arrived a little 
 late, on principle. As Giovanni and Donna Tullia came 
 back to their drag, they suddenly found themselves face 
 to face with the Duchessa and her husband. It did not 
 surprise Corona to see Giovanni walking with the woman 
 he did not intend to marry, but it seemed to give the old 
 Duke undisguised pleasure. 
 
 "Do you see, Corona, there is no doubt of it ! It is 
 just as I told you," exclaimed the aged dandy, in a voice 
 
8ARACINESCA. 47 
 
 so audible that Giovanni frowned and Donna Tullia blushed 
 slightly. Both of them bowed as they passed the carriage. 
 Don Giovanni looked straight into Corona's face as he took 
 off his hat. He might very well have made her a little 
 sign, the smallest gesture, imperceptible to Donna Tullia, 
 whereby he could have given her the idea that his posi 
 tion was involuntary. But Don Giovanni was a gentle 
 man, and he did nothing of the kind; he bowed and 
 looked calmly at the woman he loved as he passed by. 
 Astrardente watched him keenly, and as he noticed the 
 indifference of Saracinesca's look, he gave a curious little 
 snuffling snort that was peculiar to him. He could have 
 sworn that neither his wife nor Giovanni had shown the 
 smallest interest in each other. He was satisfied. His 
 wife was above suspicion, as he always said ; but he was 
 an old man, and had seen the world, and he knew that 
 however implicitly he might trust the noble woman who 
 had sacrificed her youth to his old age, it was not be 
 yond the bounds of possibility that she might become 
 innocently interested, even unawares, in some younger 
 man in some such man as Giovanni Saracinesca and 
 he thought it worth his while to watch her. His little 
 snort, however, was indicative of satisfaction. Corona 
 had not winced at the mention of the marriage, and had 
 nodded with the greatest unconcern to the man as he 
 passed. 
 
 " Ah, Donna Tullia ! " he 'cried, as he returned their 
 greeting, " you are preventing Don Giovanni from mount 
 ing ; the riders will be off in a moment." 
 
 Being thus directly addressed, there was nothing to be 
 done but to stop and exchange a few words. The Du- 
 chessa was on the side nearest to the pair as they passed, 
 and her husband rose and sat opposite her, so as to talk 
 more at his ease. There were renewed greetings on 
 both sides, and Giovanni naturally found himself talking 
 to Corona, while her husband and Donna Tullia conversed 
 together. 
 
 "What man could think of hunting when he could 
 
48 SAKACINESCA. 
 
 be talking to you instead ? " said old Astrardente, whose 
 painted face adjusted itself in a sort of leer tha,t had once 
 been a winning smile. Every one knew he painted, his 
 teeth were a miracle of American dentistry, and his wig 
 had deceived a great portrait-painter. The padding in 
 his clothes was disposed with cunning wisdom, and in 
 public he rarely removed the gloves from his small hands. 
 Donna Tullia laughed at what he said. 
 
 "You should teach Don Giovanni to make pretty 
 speeches," she said. "He is as surly as a wolf this 
 morning." 
 
 " I should think a man in his position would not need 
 much teaching in order to be gallant to you," replied the 
 old dandy, with a knowing look. Then lowering his 
 voice, he added confidentially, " I hope that before very 
 long I may be allowed to congrat " 
 
 " I have prevailed upon him to give up following the 
 hounds to-day," interrupted Donna Tullia, quickly. She 
 spoke loud enough to be noticed by Corona. "He is 
 coming with us to picnic at the Capannelle instead." 
 
 Giovanni could not help glancing quickly at Corona. 
 She smiled faintly, and her face betrayed no emotion. 
 
 " I daresay it will be very pleasant," she said gently, 
 looking far out over the Campagna. In the next field the 
 pack was moving away, followed at a little distance by a 
 score of riders in pink ; one or two men who had stayed 
 behind in conversation, mounted hastily and rode after the 
 hunt ; some of the carriages turned out of the field and 
 began to follow slowly along the road, in hopes of seeing 
 the hounds throw off ; the party who were going with Val- 
 darno gathered about the drag, waiting for Donna Tullia ; 
 the grooms who were left behind congregated around the 
 men who sold boiled beans and salad; and in a few 
 minutes the meet had practically dispersed. 
 
 " Why will you not join us, Duchessa ? " asked Madame 
 Mayer. " There is lunch enough for everybody, and the 
 more people we are the pleasanter it will be." Donna 
 Tullia made her suggestion with her usual frank manner, 
 
SAKACINESCA. 49 
 
 fixing her blue eyes upon Corona as she spoke. There was 
 every appearance of cordiality in the invitation; but Donna 
 Tullia knew well enough that there was a sting in her 
 words, or at all events that she meant there should be. 
 Corona, however, glanced quietly at her husband, and then 
 courteously refused. 
 
 " You are most kind," she said, " but I fear we cannot 
 join you to-day. We are very regular people," she ex 
 plained, with a slight smile, "and we are not prepared to 
 go to-day. Many thanks j I wish we could accept your 
 kind invitation." 
 
 "Well, I am sorry you will not come," said Donna 
 Tullia, with a rather hard laugh. " We mean to enjoy 
 ourselves immensely." 
 
 Giovanni said nothing. There was only one thing which 
 could have rendered the prospect of Madame Mayer's pic 
 nic more disagreeable to him than it already was, and that 
 would have been the presence of the Duchessa. He knew 
 himself to be in a thoroughly false position in consequence 
 of having yielded to Donna Tullia's half -tearful request 
 that he would join the party. He remembered how he 
 had spoken to Corona on the previous evening, assuring 
 her that he would not marry Madame Mayer. Corona 
 knew nothing of the change his plans had undergone dur 
 ing the stormy interview he had had with his father ; he 
 longed, indeed, to be able to make the Duchessa under 
 stand, but any attempt at explanation would be wholly 
 impossible. Corona would think he was inconsistent, or 
 at least that he was willing to flirt with the gay widow, 
 while determined not to marry her. He reflected that it 
 was part of his self-condemnation that he should appear 
 unfavourably to the woman he loved, and whom he was 
 determined to renounce ; but he realised for the first time 
 how bitter it would be to stand thus always in the ap 
 pearance of weakness and self-contradiction in the eyes 
 of the only human being whose good opinion he coveted, 
 and for whose dear sake he was willing to do all things. 
 As he stood by her, his hand rested upon the side of the 
 
50 SARACINESCA. 
 
 carriage, and he stared blankly at the distant hounds and 
 the retreating riders. 
 
 " Come, Don Giovanni, we must be going," said Donna 
 Tullia. "What in the world are you thinking of? You 
 look as though you had been turned into a statue ! " 
 
 "I beg your pardon," returned Saracinesca, suddenly 
 called back from the absorbing train of his unpleasant 
 thoughts. " Good-bye, Duchessa ; good-bye, Astrardente 
 a pleasant drive to you." 
 
 " You will always regret not having come, you know," 
 cried Madame Mayer, shaking hands with both the oc 
 cupants of the carriage. "We shall probably end by 
 driving to Albano, and staying all night just fancy! 
 Immense fun not even a comb in the whole party! 
 Good-bye. I suppose we shall all meet to-night that 
 is, if we ever come back to Rome at all. Come along, 
 Giovanni," she said, familiarly dropping the prefix from 
 his name. After all, he was a sort of cousin, and people 
 in Rome are very apt to call each other by their Chris 
 tian names. But Donna Tullia knew what she was 
 about ; she knew that Corona d' Astrardente could never, 
 under any circumstances whatever, call Saracinesca plain 
 " Giovanni." But she had not the satisfaction of seeing 
 that anything she said produced any change in Corona's 
 proud dark face ; she seemed of no more importance in 
 the Duchessa's eyes than if she had been a fly buzzing 
 in the sunshine. 
 
 So Giovanni and Madame Mayer joined their noisy 
 party, and began to climb into their places upon the 
 drag ; but before they were prepared to start, the Astrar 
 dente carriage turned and drove rapidly out of the field. 
 The laughter and loud talking came to Corona's ears, 
 growing fainter and more distant every second, and the 
 sound was very cruel to her ; but she set her strong brave 
 lips together, and leaned back, adjusting the blanket over 
 her old husband's knees with one hand, and shading the 
 sun from her eyes with the parasol she held in the other. 
 
 "Thank you, my dear; you are an angel of thought- 
 
SAKACINESCA. 51 
 
 fulness," said the old dandy, stroking his wife's hand. 
 "What a singularly vulgar woman Madame Mayer is! 
 And yet she has a certain little chic of her own." 
 
 Corona did not withdraw her fingers from her husband's 
 caress. She was used to it. After all, he was kind to her 
 in his way. It would have been absurd to have been jeal 
 ous of the grossly nattering speeches he made to other 
 women ; and indeed he was as fond of turning compliments 
 to his wife as to any one. It was a singular relation that 
 had grown up between the old man and the young girl he 
 had married. Had he been less thoroughly a man of the 
 world, or had Corona been less entirely honest and loyal 
 and self-sacrificing, there would have been small peace in 
 their wedlock. But Astrardente, decayed roue and worn- 
 out dandy as he was, was in love with his wife ; and she, 
 in all the young magnificence of her beauty, submitted to 
 be loved by him, because she had promised that she would 
 do so, and because, having sworn, she regarded the break 
 ing of her faith by the smallest act of unkindness as a 
 tning beyond the bounds of possibility. It had been a 
 terrible blow to her to discover that she cared for Don 
 Giovanni even in the way she believed she did, as a man 
 whose society she preferred to that of other men, and whose 
 face it gave her pleasure to see. She, too, had spent a 
 sleepless night ; and when she had risen in the morning, 
 she had determined to forget Giovanni, and if she could 
 not forget him, she had sworn that more than ever she 
 would be all things 'to her husband. 
 
 She wondered now, as Giovanni had known she would, 
 why he had suddenly thrown over his day's hunting in 
 order to spend his time with Donna Tullia ; but she would 
 not acknowledge, even to herself, that the dull pain she 
 felt near her heart, and that seemed to oppress her breath 
 ing, bore any relation to the scene she had just witnessed. 
 She shut her lips tightly, and arranged the blanket for 
 her husband. 
 
 " Madame Mayer is vulgar," she answered. " I suppose 
 she cannot help it." 
 
52 SAEACINESCA. 
 
 " Women can always help being vulgar/' returned 
 Astrardente. " I believe she learned it from her husband. 
 Women are not naturally like that. Nevertheless she is 
 an excellent match for Giovanni Saracinesca. Rich, by 
 millions. Undeniably handsome, gay well, rather too 
 gay ; but Giovanni is so serious that the contrast will be 
 to their mutual advantage." 
 
 Corona was silent. There was nothing the old man 
 disliked so much as silence. 
 
 " Why do you not answer me ? " he asked, rather petu 
 lantly. 
 
 " I do not know I was thinking," said Corona, simply. 
 " I do not see that it is a great match after all, for the 
 last of the Saracinesca." 
 
 " You think she will lead him a terrible dance, I dare 
 say," returned the old man. " She is gay very gay ; and 
 Giovanni is very, very solemn." 
 
 " I did not mean that she was too gay. I only think 
 that Saracinesca might marry, for instance, the Eocca 
 girl. Why should he take a widow ? " 
 
 " Such a young widow. Old Mayer was as decrepit as 
 any old statue in a museum. He was paralysed in one 
 arm, and gouty gouty, my dear ; you do not know how 
 gouty he was." The old fellow grinned scornfully ; he 
 had never had the gout. " Donna Tullia is a very young 
 widow. Besides, think of the fortune. It would break 
 old Saracinesca's heart to let so much money go out of 
 the family. He is a miserly old wretch, Saracinesca ! " 
 
 " I never heard that," said Corona. 
 
 " Oh, there are many things in Rome that one never 
 hears, and that is one of them. I hate avarice it is so 
 extremely vulgar." 
 
 Indeed Astrardente was not himself avaricious, though 
 he had all his life known how to protect his interests. 
 He loved money, but he loved also to spend it, especially 
 in such a way as to make a great show with it. It was 
 not true, however, that Saracinesca was miserly. He 
 spent a large income without the smallest ostentation. 
 
SARACINESCA. 53 
 
 "Keally, I should hardly call Prince Saracinesca a 
 miser," said Corona. " I cannot imagine, from what I 
 know of him, why he should be so anxious to get Madame 
 Mayer's fortune ; but I do not think it is out of mere 
 greediness." 
 
 " Then I do not know what you can call it," returned 
 her husband, sharply. " They have always had that dis 
 mal black melancholy in that family that detestable love 
 of secretly piling up money, while their faces are as grave 
 and sour as any Jew's in the Ghetto." 
 
 Corona glanced at her husband, and smiled faintly as 
 she looked at his thin old features, where the lights and 
 shadows were touched in with delicate colour more art 
 fully than any actress's, superficially concealing the lines 
 traced by years of affectation and refined egotism ; and 
 she thought of Giovanni's strong manly face, passionate 
 indeed, but noble and bold. A moment later she reso 
 lutely put the comparison out of her mind, and finding 
 that her husband was inclined to abuse the Saracinesca, 
 she tried to turn the conversation. 
 
 " I suppose it will be a great ball at the Frangipani's," 
 she said. " We will go, of course ? " she added, inter 
 rogatively. 
 
 "Of course. I would not miss it for all the world. 
 There has not been such a ball for years as that will be. 
 Do I ever miss an opportunity of enjoying myself I 
 mean, of letting you enjoy yourself ? " 
 
 " No, you are very good," said Corona, gently. " Indeed 
 I sometimes think you give yourself trouble about going 
 out on my account. Really, I am not so greedy of society. 
 I would often gladly stay at home if you wished it." 
 
 " Do you think I am past enjoying the world, then ? " 
 asked the old man, sourly. 
 
 " No indeed," replied Corona, patiently. " Why should 
 I think that ? I see how much you like going out." 
 
 " Of course I like it. A rational man in the prime of 
 life always likes to see his fellow-creatures. Why should 
 not I ? " 
 
54 SARACINESCA. 
 
 The Duchessa did not smile. She was used to hearing 
 her aged husband speak of himself as young. It was a 
 harmless fancy. 
 
 "I think it is quite natural/' she said. 
 
 "What I cannot understand," said Astrardente, muf 
 fling his thin throat more closely against the keen bright 
 tramontanes wind, " is that such old fellows as Saracinesca 
 should still want to play a part in the world." 
 
 Saracinesca was younger than Astrardente, and his iron 
 constitution bade fair to outlast another generation, in 
 spite of his white hair. * 
 
 "You do not seem to be in a good humour with Sara 
 cinesca to-day," remarked Corona, by way of answer. 
 
 " Why do you defend him ? " asked her husband, in a 
 new fit of irritation. " He jars on my nerves, the sour 
 old creature ! " 
 
 " I fancy all Borne will go to the Frangipani ball," 
 began Corona again, without heeding the old man's petu 
 lance. 
 
 " You seem to be interested in it," returned Astrardente. 
 
 Corona was silent ; it was her only weapon when he 
 "became petulant. He hated silence, and generally re 
 turned to the conversation with more suavity. Perhaps, 
 in his great experience, he really appreciated his wife's 
 wonderful patience with his moods, and it is certain that 
 he was exceedingly fond of her. 
 
 "You must have a new gown, my dear," he said pres 
 ently, in a conciliatory tone. 
 
 His wife passed for the best-dressed woman in Koine, as 
 she was undeniably the most remarkable in many other 
 ways. She was not above taking an interest in dress, and 
 her old husband had an admirable taste; moreover, he 
 took a vast pride in her appearance, and if she had looked 
 a whit less superior to other women, his smiling boast 
 that she was above suspicion would have lost some of 
 its force. 
 
 " I hardly think it is necessary," said Corona ; " I have 
 so many things, and it will be a great crowd." 
 
SARACINESCA. 55 
 
 " My dear, be economical of your beauty, but not in your 
 adornment of it," said the old man, with one of his engag 
 ing grins. " I desire that you have a new gown for this 
 ball which will be remembered by every one who goes to 
 it. You must set about it at once." 
 
 "Well, that is an easy request for any woman to 
 grant," answered Corona, with a little laugh ; " though I 
 do not believe my gown will be remembered so long as 
 you think." 
 
 " Who knows who knows ? " said Astrardente, 
 thoughtfully. " I remember gowns I saw " he checked 
 himself " why, as many as ten years ago ! " he added, 
 laughing in his turn, perhaps at nearly having said forty 
 for ten. " Gowns, my dear," he continued, " make a pro 
 found impression upon men's minds." 
 
 " For the matter of that," said the Duchessa, " I do not 
 care to impress men at all, nor women either." She spoke 
 lightly, pleased that the conversation should have taken 
 a more pleasant turn. 
 
 " Not even to impress me, my dear ? " asked old Astrar 
 dente, with a leer. 
 
 " That is different," answered Corona, quietly. 
 
 So they talked upon the subject of the gown and the 
 ball until the carriage rolled under the archway of the 
 Astrardente palace. But when it was three o'clock, and 
 Corona was at liberty to go out upon her usual round of 
 visits, she was glad that she could go alone ; and as she 
 sat among her cushions, driving from house to house and 
 distributing cards, she had time to think seriously of her 
 situation. It would seem a light thing to most wives of 
 aged husbands to have taken a fancy to a man such as 
 Giovanni Saracinesca. But the more Corona thought of 
 it, the more certain it appeared to her that she was com 
 mitting a great sin. It weighed heavily upon her mind, 
 and took from her the innocent pleasure she was wont to 
 feel in driving in the bright evening air in the Villa Bor- 
 ghese. It took the colour from the sky, and the softness 
 from the cushions ; it haunted her and made her miserably 
 
56 SAEACINESCA. 
 
 unhappy. At every turn she expected to see Giovanni's 
 figure and face, and the constant recurrence of the thought 
 seemed to add magnitude to the crime of which she accused 
 herself, the crime of even thinking of any man save her 
 old husband of wishing that Giovanni might not marry 
 Donna Tullia after all. 
 
 " I will go to Padre Filippo," she said to herself as she 
 reached home. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Valdarno took Donna Tullia by his side upon the front 
 seat of the drag ; and as luck would have it, Giovanni and 
 Del Ferice sat together behind them. Half-a-dozen other 
 men found seats somewhere, and among them were the 
 melancholy Spicca, who was a famous duellist, and a cer 
 tain Casalverde, a man of rather doubtful reputation. The 
 others were members of what Donna Tullia called her 
 " corps de ballet." In those days Donna Tullia' s conduct 
 was criticised, and she was thought to be emancipated, as 
 the phrase went. Old people opened their eyes at the 
 spectacle of the gay young widow going off into the Cani- 
 pagna to picnic with a party of men ; but if any intimate 
 enerny had ventured to observe to her that she was giving 
 occasion for gossip, she would have raised her eyebrows, 
 explaining that they were all just like her brothers, and 
 that Giovanni was indeed a sort of cousin. She would per 
 haps have condescended to say that she would not have 
 done such a thing in Paris, but that in dear old Rome one 
 was in the bosom of one's family, and might do anything. 
 At present she sat chatting with Yaldarno, a tall and fair 
 young man, with a weak mouth and a good-natured dis 
 position: she had secured Giovanni, and though he sat 
 sullenly smoking behind her, his presence gave her satis 
 faction. Del Ferice's smooth face wore an expression of 
 ineffable calm, and his watery blue eyes gazed languidly 
 
SARACINESCA. 57 
 
 on the broad stretch of brown grass which bordered the 
 highroad. 
 
 For some time the drag bowled along, and Giovanni 
 was left to his own reflections, which were not of a very 
 pleasing kind. The other men talked of the chances of 
 luck with the hounds ; and Spicca, who had been a great 
 deal in England, occasionally put in a remark not very 
 complimentary to the Roman hunt. Del Ferice listened 
 in silence, and Giovanni did not listen at all, but buttoned 
 his overcoat to the throat, half closed his eyes, and 
 smoked one cigarette after another, leaning back in his 
 seat. Suddenly Donna Tullia's laugh was heard as she 
 turned half round to look at Valdarno. 
 
 " Do you really think so ? " she cried. " How soon ? 
 What a dance we will lead them then ! " 
 
 Del Ferice pricked his ears in the direction of her 
 voice, like a terrier that suspects the presence of a rat. 
 Valdarno's answer was inaudible, but Donna Tullia 
 ceased laughing immediately. 
 
 " They are talking politics," said Del Ferice in a low 
 voice, leaning towards Giovanni as he spoke. The latter 
 shrugged his shoulders and went on smoking. He did 
 not care to be drawn into a conversation with Del Ferice. 
 
 Del Ferice was a man who was suspected of revolu 
 tionary sympathies by the authorities in Rome, but who 
 was not feared. He was therefore allowed to live his 
 life much as he pleased, though he was conscious from 
 time to time that he was watched. Being a man, how 
 ever, who under all circumstances pursued his own inter 
 ests with more attention than he bestowed on those of 
 any party, he did not pretend to attach any importance 
 to the distinction of being occasionally followed by a 
 spy, as a more foolish man might have done. If he was 
 watched, he did not care to exhibit himself to his friends 
 as a martyr, to tell stories of the sbirro who sometimes 
 dogged his footsteps, nor to cry aloud that he was un 
 justly persecuted. He affected a character above suspi 
 cion, and rarely allowed himself to express an opinion. 
 
58 SABACINESCA. 
 
 He was no propagator of new doctrines; that was too 
 dangerous a trade for one of his temper. But he foresaw 
 changes to come, and he determined that he would profit 
 by them. He had little to lose, but he had everything to 
 gain ; and being a patient man, he resolved to gain all 
 he could by circumspection in other words, by acting 
 according to his nature, rather than by risking himself 
 in a bold course of action for which he was wholly un- 
 suited. He was too wise to attempt wholly to deceive 
 the authorities, knowing well that they were not easily 
 deceived; and he accordingly steered a middle course, 
 constantly speaking in favour of progress, of popular 
 education, and of freedom of the press, but at the same 
 time loudly proclaiming that all these things that every 
 benefit of civilisation, in fact could be obtained without 
 the slightest change in the form of government. He 
 thus asserted his loyalty to the temporal power while 
 affecting a belief in the possibility of useful reforms, and 
 the position he thus acquired exactly suited his own 
 ends; for he attracted to himself a certain amount of 
 suspicion on account of his progressist professions, and 
 then disarmed that suspicion by exhibiting a serene in 
 difference to the espionage of which he was the object. 
 The consequence was, that at the very time when he was 
 most deeply implicated in much more serious matters 
 of which the object was invariably his own ultimate profit 
 at the time when he was receiving money for informa 
 tion he was able to obtain through his social position, he 
 was regarded by the authorities, and by most of his 
 acquaintances, as a harmless man, who might indeed 
 injure himself by his foolish doctrines of progress, but 
 who certainly could not injure any one else. Few guessed 
 that his zealous attention to social duties, his occasional 
 bursts of enthusiasm for liberal education and a free 
 press, were but parts of his machinery for making money 
 out of politics. He was so modest, so unostentatious, 
 that no one suspected that the mainspring of his exist- 
 ence was the desire for money. 
 
SAKACINESCA. 59 
 
 But, like many intelligent and bad men, Del Ferice had 
 a weakness which was gradually gaining upon him and 
 growing in force, and which was destined to hasten the 
 course of the events which he had planned for himself. 
 It is an extraordinary peculiarity in unbelievers that 
 they are often more subject to petty superstitions than 
 other men ; and similarly, it often happens that the most 
 cynical and coldly calculating of conspirators, who be 
 lieve themselves proof against all outward influences, 
 yield to some feeling of nervous dislike for an individual 
 who has never harmed them, and are led on from dislike 
 to hatred, until their soberest actions take colour from 
 what in its earliest beginnings was nothing more than a 
 senseless prejudice. Del Ferice's weakness was his 
 unaccountable detestation of Giovanni Saracinesca ; and 
 he had so far suffered this abhorrence of the man to dom 
 inate his existence, that it had come to be one of his 
 chiefest delights in life to thwart Giovanni wherever 
 he could. How it had begun, or when, he no longer 
 knew nor cared. He had perhaps thought Giovanni 
 treated him superciliously, or even despised him; and 
 his antagonism being roused by some fancied slight, he 
 had shown a petty resentment, which, again, Saracinesca 
 had treated with cold indifference. Little by little his 
 fancied grievance had acquired great proportions in his 
 own estimation, and he had learned to hate Giovanni 
 more than any man living. At first it might have 
 seemed an easy matter to ruin his adversary, or, at all 
 event, to cause him great and serious injury; and but 
 for that very indifference which Del Ferice so resented, 
 his attempts might have been successful. 
 
 Giovanni belonged to a family who from the earliest 
 times had been at swords-drawn with the Government. 
 Their property had been more than once confiscated by the 
 popes, had been seized again by force of arms, and had 
 been ultimately left to them for the mere sake of peace. 
 They seem to have quarrelled with everybody on every 
 conceivable pretext, and to have generally got the best of 
 
60 SARACINESCA. 
 
 the struggle. No pope had ever reckoned upon the 
 friendship of Casa Saracinesca. For generations they had 
 headed the opposition whenever there was one, and had 
 plotted to form one when there was none ready to their 
 hands. It seemed to Del Ferice that in the stirring 
 times that followed the annexation of Naples to the 
 Italian crown, when all Europe was watching the growth 
 of the new Power, it should be an easy matter to draw a 
 Saracinesca into any scheme for the subversion of a 
 Government against which so many generations of Saraci 
 nesca had plotted and fought. To involve Giovanni in 
 some Liberal conspiracy, and then by betraying him to 
 cause him to be imprisoned or exiled from Rome, was a 
 plan which pleased Del Ferice, and which he desired 
 earnestly to put into execution. He had often tried to 
 lead his enemy into conversation, repressing and hiding 
 his dislike for the sake of his end ; . but at the first men 
 tion of political subjects Giovanni became impenetrable, 
 shrugged his shoulders, and assumed an air of the utmost 
 indifference. No paradox could draw him into argument, 
 no flattery could loose his tongue. Indeed those were 
 times when men hesitated to express an opinion, not only 
 because any opinion they might express was liable to be 
 exaggerated and distorted by willing enemies a consid 
 eration which would not have greatly intimidated Gio 
 vanni Saracinesca but also because it was impossible 
 for the wisest man to form any satisfactory judgment 
 upon the course of events. It was clear to every one 
 that ever since 1848 the temporal power had been sus 
 tained by France ; and though no one in 1865 foresaw the 
 downfall of the Second Empire, no one saw any reason 
 for supposing that the military protectorate of Louis 
 Napoleon in Eome could last for ever : what would be 
 likely to occur if that protection were withdrawn was 
 indeed a matter of doubt, but was not looked upon by the 
 Government as a legitimate matter for speculation. 
 
 Del Ferice, however, did not desist from his attempts 
 to make Giovanni speak out his mind, and whenever an 
 
SABACINESCA. 61 
 
 opportunity offered, tried to draw him into conversation. 
 He was destined on the present occasion to meet with 
 greater success than had hitherto attended his efforts. 
 The picnic was noisy, and Giovanni was in a bad humour ; 
 he did not care for Donna Tullia's glances, nor for the re 
 marks she constantly levelled at him ; still less was he 
 amused by the shallow gaiety of her party of admirers, 
 tempered as their talk was by the occasional tonic of 
 some outrageous cynicism from the melancholy Spicca. 
 Del Ferice smiled, and talked, and smiled again, seeking 
 to natter and please Donna Tullia, as was his wont. By- 
 and-by the clear north wind and the bright sun dried 
 the ground, and Madame Mayer proposed that the party 
 should walk a little on the road towards Rome a proposal 
 of such startling originality that it was carried by accla 
 mation. Donna Tullia wanted to walk with Giovanni ; but 
 on pretence of having left something upon the drag, he 
 gave Valdarno time to take his place. When Giovanni 
 began to follow the rest, he found that Del Ferice had 
 lagged behind, and seemed to be waiting for him. 
 
 Giovanni was in a bad humour that day. He had suf 
 fered himself to be persuaded into joining in a species of 
 amusement for which he cared nothing, by a mere word 
 from a woman for whom he cared less, but whom he had 
 half determined to marry, and who had wholly deter 
 mined to marry him. He, who hated vacillation, had 
 been dangling for four-and-twenty hours like a pendu 
 lum, or, as he said to himself, like an ass between two 
 bundles of hay. At one moment he meant to marry 
 Donna Tullia, and at another he loathed the thought ; 
 now he felt that he would make any sacrifice to rid the 
 Duchessa d'Astrardente of himself, and now again he 
 felt how futile such a sacrifice would be. He was 
 ashamed in his heart, for he was no boy of twenty to be 
 swayed by a woman's look or a fit of Quixotism ; he was 
 a strong grown man who had seen the world. He had 
 been in the habit of supposing his impulses to be good, 
 and of following them naturally without much thought; 
 
62 SARACINESCA. 
 
 it seemed desperately perplexing to be forced into an 
 analysis of those impulses in order to decide what he 
 should do. He was in a thoroughly bad humour, and 
 Del Ferice guessed that if Giovanni could ever be in 
 duced to speak out, it must be when his temper was not 
 under control. In Rome, in the club there was only 
 one club in those days in society, Ugo never got a 
 chance to talk to his enemy ; but here upon the Appian 
 Way, with the broad Cainpagna stretching away to right 
 and left and rear, while the remainder of the party 
 walked three hundred yards in front, and Giovanni 
 showed an evident reluctance to join them, it would go 
 hard indeed if he could not be led into conversation. 
 
 " I should think," Del Ferice began, " that if you had 
 your choice, you would walk anywhere rather than here." 
 
 " Why ? " asked Giovanni, carelessly. " It is a very 
 good road." 
 
 " I should think that our Roman Campagna would be 
 anything but a source of satisfaction to its possessors 
 like yourself," answered Del Ferice. 
 
 " It is a very good grazing ground." 
 
 " It might be something better. When one thinks that 
 in ancient times it was a vast series of villas " 
 
 " The conditions were very different. We do not live 
 in ancient times," returned Giovanni, drily. 
 
 "Ah, the conditions!" ejaculated Del Ferice, with a 
 suave sigh. " Surely the conditions depend on man not 
 on nature. What our proud forefathers accomplished by 
 law and energy, we could, we can accomplish, if we 
 restore law and energy in our midst." 
 
 "You are entirely mistaken," answered Saracinesca. 
 "It would take five times the energy of the ancient 
 Romans to turn the Campagna into a garden, or even 
 into a fertile productive region. No one is five times as 
 energetic as the ancients. As for the laws, they do well 
 enough." 
 
 Del Ferice was delighted. For the first time, Giovanni 
 seemed inclined to enter upon an argument with him. 
 
SARACINESCA. 63 
 
 " Why are the conditions so different ? I do not 
 see. Here is the same undulating country, the same cli 
 mate " 
 
 "And twice as much water," interrupted Giovanni. 
 " You forget that the Campagna is very low, and that the 
 rivers in it have risen very much. There are parts of 
 ancient Eome now laid bare which lie below the present 
 water-mark of the Tiber. If the city were built upon its 
 old level, much of it would be constantly flooded. The 
 rivers have risen and have swamped the country. Do 
 you think any amount of law or energy could drain this 
 fever-stricken plain into the sea ? I do not. Do you think 
 that if I could be persuaded that the land could be im 
 proved into fertility I would hesitate, at any expenditure 
 in my power, to reclaim the miles of desert my father 
 and I own here ? The plain is a series of swamps and 
 stone quarries. In one place you find the rock a foot 
 below the surface, and the soil burns up in summer ; 
 a hundred yards farther you find a bog hundreds of feet 
 deep, which even in summer is never dry." 
 
 "But," suggested Del Ferice, who listened patiently 
 enough, "supposing the Government passed a law forc 
 ing all of you proprietors to plant trees and dig ditches, 
 it would have some effect." 
 
 " The law cannot force us to sacrifice men's lives. The 
 Trappist monks at the Tre Fontane are trying it, and 
 dying by scores. Do you think I, or any other Roman, 
 would send peasants to such a place, or could induce 
 them to go?" 
 
 " Well, it is one of a great many questions which will 
 be settled some day," said Del Ferice. " You will not 
 deny that there is room for much improvement in our 
 country, and that an infusion of some progressist ideas 
 would be wholesome." 
 
 " Perhaps so ; but you understand one thing by progress, 
 and I understand quite another," replied Giovanni, eyeing 
 in the bright distance the figures of Donna Tullia and her 
 friends, and regulating his pace so as not to lessen the dis- 
 
64 SAKACIKESCA. 
 
 tance which separated them from him. He preferred talk 
 ing political economy with a man he disliked, to being 
 obliged to make conversation for Madame Mayer. 
 
 "I mean by progress, positive improvement without 
 revolutionary change," explained Del Ferice, using the 
 phrase he had long since constructed as his profession of 
 faith to the world. Giovanni eyed him keenly for a 
 moment. He cared nothing for Ugo or his ideas, but he 
 suspected him of very different principles. 
 
 " You will pardon me," he said, civilly, " if I venture to 
 doubt whether you have frankly expressed your views. I 
 am under the impression that you really connect the idea of 
 improvement with a very positive revolutionary change." 
 
 Del Ferice did not wince, but he involuntarily cast a 
 glance behind him. Those were times when people were 
 cautious of being overheard. But Del Ferice knew his 
 man, and he knew that the only way in which he could 
 continue the interview was to accept the imputation as 
 though trusting implicitly to the discretion of his com 
 panion. 
 
 "Will you give me a fair answer to a fair question?" 
 he asked, very gravely. 
 
 " Let me hear the question," returned Giovanni, indif 
 ferently. He also knew his man, and attached no more 
 belief to anything he said than to the chattering of a 
 parrot. And yet Del Ferice had not the reputation of a 
 liar in the world at large. 
 
 " Certainly," answered Ugo. " You are the heir of a 
 family which from immemorial time has opposed the 
 popes. You cannot be supposed to feel any kind of loyal 
 attachment to the temporal power. I do not know whether 
 you individually would support it or not. But frankly, 
 how would you regard such a revolutionary change as 
 you suspect me of desiring ? " 
 
 "I have no objection to telling you that. I would 
 simply make the best of it." 
 
 Del Ferice laughed at the ambiguous answer, affecting 
 to consider it as a mere evasion. 
 
SARACINESCA. 65 
 
 "We should all try to do that," he answered ; "but what 
 I mean to ask is, whether you would personally take up 
 arms to fight for the temporal power, or whether you 
 would allow events to take their course ? I fancy that 
 would be the ultimate test of loyalty." 
 
 "My instinct would certainly be to fight, whether fight 
 ing were of any use or not. But the propriety of fighting 
 in such a case is a very nice question of judgment. So 
 long as there is anything to fight for, no matter how hope 
 less the odds, a gentleman should go to the front but no 
 longer. The question must be to decide the precise point 
 at which the position becomes untenable. So long as 
 France makes our quarrels hers, every man should give 
 his personal assistance to the cause ; but it is absurd to 
 suppose that if we were left alone, a handful of Komans 
 against a great Power, we could do more, or should do 
 more, than make a formal show of resistance. It has been 
 a rule in all ages that a general, however brave, who sacri 
 fices the lives of his soldiers in a perfectly hopeless resist 
 ance, rather than accept the terms of an honourable 
 capitulation, is guilty of a military crime." 
 
 "In other words," answered Del Ferice, quietly, "if the 
 French troops were withdrawn, and the Italians were be 
 sieging Rome, you would at once capitulate ? " 
 
 " Certainly after making a formal protest. It would 
 be criminal to sacrifice our fellow-citizens' lives in such a 
 case." 
 
 "And then?" 
 
 " Then, as I said before, I would make the best of it 
 not omitting to congratulate Del Ferice upon obtaining a 
 post in the new Government," added Giovanni, with a 
 laugh. 
 
 But Del Ferice took no notice of the jest. 
 
 " Do you not think that, aside from any question of 
 sympathy or loyalty to the holy Father, the change of 
 government would be an immense advantage to Koine ? " 
 
 " No, I do not. To Italy the advantage would be in 
 estimable ; to Eome it would be an injury. Italy would 
 
66 SABACINESCA. 
 
 consolidate the prestige she began to acquire when Cavour 
 succeeded in sending a handful of troops to the Crimea 
 eleven years ago ; she would at once take aliigh position 
 as a European Power provided always that the smould 
 ering republican element should not break out in opposi 
 tion to the constitutional monarchy. But Rome would be 
 ruined. She is no longer the geographical capital of 
 Italy she is not even the largest city ; but in the course 
 of a few years, violent efforts would be made to give her 
 a fictitious modern grandeur, in the place of the moral 
 importance she now enjoys as the headquarters of the 
 Catholic world. Those efforts at a spurious growth 
 would ruin her financially, and the hatred of Romans for 
 Italians of the north would cause endless internal dis 
 sension. We should be subjected to a system of taxation 
 which would fall more heavily on us than on other Ital 
 ians, in proportion as our land is less productive. On 
 the whole, we should grow rapidly poorer; for prices 
 would rise, and we should have a paper currency instead 
 of a metallic one. Especially we landed proprietors 
 would suffer terribly by the Italian land system being 
 suddenly thrust upon us. To be obliged to sell one's 
 acres to any peasant wha can scrape together enough to 
 capitalise the pittance he now pays as rent, at five per 
 cent, would scarcely be agreeable. Such a fellow, from 
 whom I have the greatest difficulty in extracting his 
 yearly bushel of grain, could borrow twenty bushels from 
 a neighbour, or* the value of them, and buy me out with 
 out my consent acquiring land worth ten times the rent 
 he and his father have paid for it, and his father before 
 him. It would produce an extraordinary state of things, 
 I can assure you. No even putting aside what you call 
 my sympathies and my loyalty to the Pope I do not 
 desire any change. Nobody who owns much property 
 does; the revolutionary spirits are people who own 
 nothing." 
 
 " On the other hand, those who own nothing, or next 
 to nothing, are the great majority." 
 
SARACINESCA. 67 
 
 " Even if that is true, which I doubt, I do not see why 
 the intelligent few should be ruled by that same ignorant 
 majority." 
 
 "But you forget that the majority is to be educated," 
 objected Del Ferice. 
 
 " Education is a term few people can define," returned 
 Giovanni. " Any good schoolmaster knows vastly more 
 than you or I. Would you like to be governed by a 
 majority of schoolmasters ? " 
 
 " That is a plausible argument," laughed Del Ferice, 
 " but it is not sound." 
 
 " It is not sound ! " repeated Giovanni, impatiently. 
 " People are so fond of exclaiming that what they do not 
 like is not sound ! Do you think that it would not be 
 a fair case to put five hundred schoolmasters against five 
 hundred gentlemen of average education? I think it 
 would be very fair. The schoolmasters would certainly 
 have the advantage in education : do you mean to say they 
 would make better or wiser electors than the same num 
 ber of gentlemen who cannot name all the cities and rivers 
 in Italy, nor translate a page of Latin without a mistake, 
 but who understand the conditions of property by practi 
 cal experience as no schoolmaster can possibly understand 
 them ? I tell you it is nonsense. Education, of the kind 
 which is of any practical value in the government of a 
 nation, means the teaching of human motives, of human 
 ising ideas, of some system whereby the majority of 
 electors can distinguish the qualities of honesty and 
 common-sense in the candidate they wish to elect. I do 
 not pretend to say what that system may be, but I assert 
 that no education which does not lead to that kind of 
 knowledge is of any practical use to the voting majority 
 of a constitutionally governed country." 
 
 Del Ferice sighed rather sadly. 
 
 "I am afraid you will not discover that system in 
 Europe," he said. He was disappointed in Giovanni, 
 and in his hopes of detecting in him some signs of a 
 revolutionary spirit. Saracinesca was a gentleman of 
 
Sa SABACINESCA. 
 
 the old school, who evidently despised majorities and 
 modern political science as a whole, who for the sake of 
 his own interests desired no change from the Govern 
 ment under which he lived, and who would surely be the 
 first to draw the sword for the temporal power, and 
 the last to sheathe it. His calm judgment concerning 
 the fallacy of holding a hopeless position would vanish 
 like smoke if his fiery blood were once roused. He was 
 so honest a man that even Del Ferice could not suspect 
 him of parading views he did not hold ; and Ugo then 
 and there abandoned all idea of bringing him into politi 
 cal trouble and disgrace, though he by no means gave up 
 all hope of being able to ruin him in some other way. 
 
 "I agree with you there at least," said Saracinesca. 
 " The only improvements worth having are certainly not 
 to be found in Europe. Donna Tullia is calling us. We 
 had better join that harmless flock of lambs, and give 
 over speculating on the advantages of allying ourselves 
 with a pack of wolves who will eat us up, house and 
 home, bag and baggage." 
 
 So the whole party climbed again to their seats upon the 
 drag, and Valdarno drove them back into Borne by the 
 Porta San Giovanni. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Corona d'Astrardente had been educated in a convent 
 that is to say, she had been brought up in the strict prac 
 tice of her religion ; and during the five years which had 
 elapsed since she had come out into the world, she had 
 found no cause for forsaking the habits she had acquired 
 in her girlhood. Some people find religion a burden; 
 others regard it as an indifferently useless institution, in 
 which they desire no share, and concerning which they 
 never trouble themselves ; others, again, look upon it as 
 the mainstay of their lives. 
 
SARACINESCA. 69 
 
 It is natural to suppose that the mode of thought and 
 the habits acquired by young girls in a religious institution 
 will not disappear without a trace when they first go into 
 the world, and it may even be expected that some memory 
 of the early disposition thus cultivated will cling to them 
 throughout their lives. But the multifarious interests of 
 social existence do much to shake that young edifice of 
 faith. The driving strength of stormy passions of all 
 kinds undermines the walls of the fabric, and when at 
 last the bolt of adversity strikes full upon the keystone 
 of the arch, upon the self of man or woman, weakened 
 and loosened by the tempests of years, the whole palace 
 of the soul falls in, a hopeless wreck, wherein not even the 
 memory of outline can be traced, nor the faint shadow of 
 a beauty which is destroyed for ever. 
 
 But there are some whose interests in this world are not 
 strong enough to shake their faith in the next ; whose pas 
 sions do not get the mastery, and whose self is sheltered 
 from danger by something more than the feeble defence of 
 an accomplished egotism. Corona was one of these, for her 
 lot had not been happy, nor her path strewn with roses. 
 
 She was a friendless woman, destined to suffer much, 
 and her suffering was the more intense that she seemed 
 always upon the point of finding friends in the world where 
 she played so conspicuous a part. There can be little hap 
 piness when a whole life has been placed upon a false 
 foundation, even though so dire a mistake may have been 
 committed willingly and from a sense of duty and obliga 
 tion, such as drove Corona to marry old Astrardente. Con 
 solation is not satisfaction ; and though, when she reflected 
 on what she had done, she knew that from her point of 
 view she had done her best, she knew also that she had 
 closed upon herself the gates of the earthly paradise, and 
 that for her the prospect of happiness had been removed 
 from the now to the hereafter the dim and shadowy glass 
 in which we love to see any reflection save that of our pres 
 ent lives. And to her, thus living in submission to the con 
 sequences of her choice, that faith in things better which 
 
 Vol. 104 
 
70 SAKACINESCA. 
 
 had inspired her to sacrifice was the chief remaining source 
 of consolation. There was a good man to whom she went 
 for advice, as she had gone to him ever since she could 
 remember. When she found herself in trouble she never 
 hesitated. Padre Filippo was to her the living proof of 
 the possibility of human goodness, as faith is to us all 
 the evidence of things not seen. 
 
 Corona was in trouble now in a trouble so new that 
 she hardly understood it, so terrible and yet so vague that 
 she felt her peril imminent. She did not hesitate, there 
 fore, nor change her mind upon the morning following the 
 day of the meet, but drove to the church of the Capuchins 
 in the Piazza Barber ini, and went up the broad steps with 
 a beating heart, not knowing how she should tell what 
 she meant to tell, yet knowing that there was for her no 
 hope of peace unless she told it quickly, and got that 
 advice and direction she so earnestly craved. 
 
 Padre Filippo had been a man of the world in his time 
 a man of great cultivation, full of refined tastes and 
 understanding of tastes in others, gentle and courteous 
 in his manners, and very kind of heart. No one knew 
 whence he came. He spoke Italian correctly and with 
 a keen scholarly use of words, but his slight accent be 
 trayed his foreign birth. He had been a Capuchin monk 
 for many years, perhaps for more than half his lifetime, 
 and Corona could remember him from her childhood, for 
 he had been a friend of her father's ; but he had not been 
 consulted about her marriage, she even remembered that, 
 though she had earnestly desired to see him before the 
 wedding-day, her father had told her that he had left 
 Rome for a time. For the old gentleman was in terrible 
 earnest about the match, so that in his heart he feared 
 lest Corona might waver and ask Padre Filippo's advice ; 
 and he knew the good monk too well to think that he 
 would give his countenance to such a sacrifice as was con 
 templated in marrying the young girl to old Astrardente. 
 Corona had known this later, but had hardly realised the 
 selfishness of her father, nor indeed had desired to realise 
 
SABACINESCA. 71 
 
 it. It was sufficient that lie had died satisfied in seeing 
 her married to a great noble, and that she had been able, 
 in his last days, to relieve him from the distress of debt 
 and embarrassment which had doubtless contributed to 
 shorten his life. 
 
 The proud woman who had thus once humbled herself 
 for an object she thought good, had never referred to her 
 action again. She had never spoken of her position to 
 Padre Filippo, so that the monk wondered and admired 
 her steadfastness. If she suffered, it was in silence, with 
 out comment and without complaint, and so she would 
 have suffered to the end. But it had been ordered other 
 wise. For months she had known that the interest she 
 felt in Giovanni Saracinesca was increasing: she had 
 choked it down, had done all in her power to prove her 
 self indifferent to him ; but at last the crisis had come. 
 When he spoke to her of his marriage, she had felt she 
 knew now that it was so that she loved him. The very 
 word, as she repeated it to herself, rang like an awful, 
 almost incomprehensible, accusation of evil in her ears. 
 One moment she stood at the top of the steps outside the 
 church, looking down at the bare straggling trees below, 
 and upward to the grey sky, against which the lofty eaves 
 of the Palazzo Barberini stood out sharply defined. The 
 weather had changed again, and a soft southerly wind 
 was blowing the spray of the fountain half across the 
 piazza. Corona paused, her graceful figure half lean 
 ing against the stone doorpost of the church, her hand 
 upon the heavy leathern curtain in the act to lift it ; and 
 as she stood there, a desperate temptation assailed her. 
 It seemed desperate to her to many another woman it 
 would have appeared only the natural course to pursue 
 to turn her back upon the church, to put off the hard 
 moment of confession, to go down again into the city, and 
 to say to herself that there was no harm in seeing Don 
 Giovanni, provided she never let him speak of love. Why 
 should he speak of it ? Had she any reason to suppose 
 there was danger to her in anything he meant to say ? 
 
72 SARACINESCA. 
 
 Had lie ever, by word or deed, betrayed that interest in 
 her which she knew in herself was love for him ? Had 
 he ever ? ah yes ! It was only the night before last that 
 he had asked her advice, had besought her to advise him 
 not to marry another, had suffered his arm to tremble 
 when she laid her hand upon it. In the quick remem 
 brance that he too had shown some feeling, there was a 
 sudden burst of joy such as Corona had never felt, and a 
 moment later she knew it and was afraid. It was true, 
 then. At the very time when she was most oppressed 
 with the sense of her fault in loving him, there was an 
 inward rejoicing in her heart at the bare thought that she 
 loved him. Could a woman fall lower, she asked herself 
 lower than to delight in what she knew to be most bad ? 
 And yet it was such a poor little thrill of pleasure after 
 all ; but it was the first she had ever known. To turn 
 away and reflect for a few days would be so easy ! It 
 would be so sweet to think of it, even though the excuse 
 for thinking of Giovanni should be a good determination 
 to root him from her life. It would be so sweet to drive 
 again alone among the trees that very afternoon, and to 
 weigh the salvation of her soul in the balance of her heart : 
 her heart would know how to turn the scales, surely 
 enough. Corona stood still, holding the curtain in her 
 hand. She was a brave woman, but she turned pale not 
 hesitating, she said to herself, but pausing. Then, sud 
 denly, a great scorn of herself arose in her. Was it worthy 
 of her even to pause in doing right ? The nobility of her 
 courage cried loudly to her to go in and do the thing most 
 worthy : her hand lifted the heavy leathern apron, and 
 she entered the church. 
 
 The air within was heavy and moist, and the grey light 
 fell coldly through the tall windows. Corona shuddered, 
 and drew her furs more closely about her as she passed 
 up the aisle to the door of the sacristy. She found the 
 monk she sought, and she made her confession. 
 
 "Padre mio," she said at last, when the good man 
 thought she had finished " Padre mio, I am a very mis- 
 
SABACmESCA. 73 
 
 erable woman." She hid her dark face in her ungloved 
 hands, and one by one the crystal tears welled from her 
 eyes and trickled down upon her small fingers and upon 
 the worn black wood of the confessional. 
 
 " My daughter," said the good monk, " I will pray for 
 you, others will pray for you but before all things, you 
 must pray for yourself. And let me advise you, my 
 child, that as we are all led into temptation, we must 
 not think that because we have been in temptation we 
 have sinned hopelessly ; nor, if we have fought against 
 the thing that tempts us, should we at once imagine that 
 we have overcome it, and have done altogether right. If 
 there were no evil in ourselves, there could be no temp 
 tation from without, for nothing evil could seem pleasant. 
 But with you I cannot find that you have done any great 
 wrong as yet. You must take courage. We are all in 
 the world, and do what we may, we cannot disregard it. 
 The sin you see is real, but it is yet not very near you 
 since you so abhor it ; and if you pray that you may hate 
 it, it will go further from you till you may hope not even 
 to understand how it could once have been so near. Take 
 courage take comfort. Do not be morbid. Eesist temp 
 tation, but do not analyse it nor yourself too closely ; for 
 it is one of the chief signs of evil in us that when we 
 dwell too much upon ourselves and upon our temptations, 
 we ourselves seem good in our own eyes, and our tempta 
 tions not unpleasant, because the very resisting of them 
 seems to make us appear better than we are." 
 
 But the tears still flowed from Corona's eyes in the dark 
 corner of the church, and she could not be comforted. 
 
 " Padre mio," she repeated, " I am very unhappy. I 
 have not a friend in the world to whom I can speak. 
 I have never seen my life before as I see it now. God 
 forgive me, I have never loved my husband. I never 
 knew what it meant to love. I was a mere child, a very 
 innocent child, when I was married to him. I would have 
 sought your advice, but they told me you were away, 
 and I thought I was doing right in obeying my father." 
 
74 SABACINESCA. 
 
 Padre Filippo sighed. He had long known and under 
 stood why Corona had not been allowed to come to him 
 at the most important moment of her life. 
 
 "My husband is very kind to me," she continued in 
 broken tones. " He loves me in his way, but I do not 
 love him. That of itself is a great sin. It seems to me 
 as though I saw but one half of life, and saw it from the 
 window of a prison ; and yet I am not imprisoned. I 
 would that I were, for I should never have seen another 
 man. I should never have heard his voice, nor seen his 
 face, nor nor loved him, as I do love him," she sobbed. 
 
 " Hush, my daughter," said the old monk, very gently. 
 " You told me you had never spoken of love ; that you 
 were interested in him, indeed, but that you did not 
 know " 
 
 "I know I know now," cried Corona, losing all control 
 as the passionate tears flowed down. " I could not say it 
 it seemed so dreadful I love him with my whole self ! 
 I can never get it out it burns me. O God, I am so 
 wretched!" 
 
 Padre Filippo was silent for a while. It was a terrible 
 case. He could not remember in all his experience to 
 have known one more sad to contemplate, though his busi 
 ness was with the sins and the sorrows of the world. The 
 beautiful woman kneeling outside his confessional was 
 innocent as innocent as a child, brave and faithful. 
 She had sacrificed her whole life for her father, who 
 had been little worthy of such devotion ; she had borne 
 for years the suffering of being tied to an old man whom 
 she could not help despising, however honestly she tried 
 to conceal the fact from herself, however effectually she 
 hid it from others. It was a wonder the disaster had 
 not occurred before : it showed how loyal and true a 
 woman she was, that, living in the very centre and 
 midst of the world, admired and assailed by many, she 
 should never in five years have so much as thought of 
 any man beside her husband. A woman made for love 
 and happiness, in the glory of beauty and youth, capable 
 
SARACINESCA. 75 
 
 of such unfaltering determination in her loyalty, so good, 
 so noble, so generous, it seemed unspeakably pathetic 
 to hear her weeping her heart out, and confessing that, 
 after so many struggles and efforts and sacrifices, she 
 had at last met the common fate of all humanity, and 
 was become subject to love. What might have been her 
 happiness was turned to dishonour; what should have 
 been the pride of her young life was made a reproach. 
 
 She would not fall. The grey-haired monk believed 
 that, in his great knowledge of mankind. But she would 
 suffer terribly, and it might be that others would suffer 
 also. It was the consequence of an irretrievable error in 
 the beginning, when it had seemed to the young girl just 
 leaving the convent that the best protection against the 
 world of evil into which she was to go would be the un 
 conditional sacrifice of herself. 
 
 Padre Filippo was silent. He hoped that the passionate 
 outburst of grief and self-reproach would pass, though he 
 himself could find little enough to say. It was all too 
 natural. What was he, he thought, that he should ex 
 plain away nature, and bid a friendless woman defy a 
 power that has more than once overset the reckoning of 
 the world ? He could bid her pray for help and strength, 
 but he found it hard to argue the case with her; for he 
 had to allow that his beautiful penitent was, after all, 
 only experiencing what it might have been foretold that 
 she must feel, and that, as far as he could see, she was 
 struggling bravely against the dangers of her situation. 
 
 Corona cried bitterly as she knelt there. It was a great 
 relief to give way for a time to the whole violence of what 
 she felt. It may be that in her tears there was a subtle 
 instinctive knowledge that she was weeping for her love 
 as well as for her sin in loving, but her grief was none 
 the less real. She did not understand herself. She did 
 not know, as Padre Filippo knew, that her woman's 
 heart was breaking for sympathy rather than for re 
 ligious counsel. She knew many women, but her noble 
 pride would not have let her even contemplate the pos- 
 
76 SAEACINESCA. 
 
 sibility of confiding in any one of them, even if she 
 could have done so in the certainty of not being herself 
 betrayed and of not betraying the man she loved. She had 
 been accustomed to come to her confessor for counsel, and 
 she now came to him with her troubles and craved sympathy 
 for them, in the knowledge that Padre Filippo could never 
 know the name of the man who had disturbed her peace. 
 
 But the monk understood well enough, and his kind 
 heart comprehended hers and felt for her. 
 
 "My daughter," he said at last, when she seemed to 
 have grown more calm, " it would be an inestimable ad 
 vantage if this man could go away for a time, but that is 
 probably not to be expected. Meanwhile, you must not 
 listen to him if he speaks " 
 
 " It is not that," interrupted Corona " it is not that. 
 He never speaks of love. Oh, I really believe he does 
 not love me at all ! " But in her heart she felt that he 
 must love her; and her hand, as it lay upon the hard 
 wood of the confessional, seemed still to feel his trem 
 bling arm. 
 
 " That is so much the better, my child," said the monk, 
 quietly. " For if he does not love you, your temptations 
 will not grow stronger." 
 
 "And yet, perhaps he may " murmured Corona, 
 
 feeling that it would be wrong even to conceal her faintest 
 suspicions at such a time. 
 
 "Let there be no perhaps," answered Padre Filippo, 
 almost sternly. " Let it never enter your mind that he 
 might love you. Think that even from the worldly point 
 there is small dignity in a woman who exhibits love for a 
 man who has never mentioned love to her. You have no 
 reason to suppose you are loved save that you desire to 
 be. Let there be no perhaps." 
 
 The monk's keen insight into character had given him 
 an unexpected weapon in Corona's defence. He knew how 
 of all things a proud woman hates to know that where she 
 has placed her heart there is no response, and that if she 
 fails to awaken an affection akin to her own, what has been 
 
SARACINESCA. 77 
 
 love may be turned to loathing, or at least to indifference. 
 The strong character of the Duchessa d'Astrardente re 
 sponded to his touch as he expected. Her tears ceased 
 to flow, and her scorn rose haughtily against herself. 
 
 " It is true. I am despicable," she said, suddenly. "You 
 have shown me myself. There shall be no perhaps. I 
 loathe myself for thinking of it. Pray for me, lest I fall 
 so low again." 
 
 A few minutes later Corona left the confessional and 
 went and kneeled in the body of the church to collect her 
 thoughts. She was in a very different frame of mind from 
 that in which she had left home an hour ago. She hardly 
 knew whether she felt herself a better woman, but she was 
 sure that she was stronger. There was no desire left in 
 her to meditate sadly upon her sorrow to go over and 
 over in her thoughts the feelings she experienced, the 
 fears she felt, the half-formulated hope that Giovanni 
 might love her after all. There was left only a haughty 
 determination to have done with her folly quickly and 
 surely, and to try and forget it for ever. The confessor's 
 words had produced their effect. Henceforth she would 
 never stoop so low again. She was ready to go out into 
 the world now, and she felt no fear. It was more from 
 habit than for the sake of saying a prayer that she knelt 
 in the church after her confession, for she felt very 
 strong. She rose to her feet presently, and moved 
 towards the door: she had not gone half the length of 
 the church when she came face to face with Donna Tullia 
 Mayer. 
 
 It was a strange coincidence. The ladies of Rome 
 frequently go to the church of the Capuchins, as Corona 
 had done, to seek the aid and counsel of Padre Filippo, 
 but Corona had never met Donna Tullia there. Madame 
 Mayer did not profess to be very devout. As a matter of 
 fact, she had not found it convenient to go to confession 
 during the Christmas season, and she had been intending 
 to make up for the deficiency for some time past ; but it is 
 improbable that she would have decided upon fulfilling her 
 
78 SARACINESCA. 
 
 religious obligations before Lent if she had not chanced 
 to see the Duchessa d'Astrardente's carriage standing at 
 the foot of the church steps. 
 
 Donna Tullia had risen early because she was going to 
 sit for her portrait to a young artist who lived in the 
 neighbourhood of the Piazza Barberini, and as she passed 
 in her brougham she caught sight of the Duchessa's liv 
 eries. The artist could wait half an hour: the oppor 
 tunity was admirable. She was alone, and would not 
 only do her duty in going to confession, but would have 
 a chance of seeing how Corona looked when she had been 
 at her devotions. It might also be possible to judge from 
 Padre Filippo's manner whether the interview had been 
 an interesting one. The Astrardente was so very devout 
 that she probably had difficulty in inventing sins to con 
 fess. One might perhaps tell from her face whether she 
 had felt any emotion. At all events the opportunity 
 should not be lost. Besides, if Donna Tullia found that 
 she herself was really not in a proper frame of mind for 
 religious exercises, she could easily spend a few moments 
 in the church and then proceed upon her way. She 
 stopped her carriage and went in. She had just entered 
 when she was aware of the tall figure of Corona d ? Astrar 
 dente coming towards her, magnificent in the simplicity 
 of her furs, a short veil just covering half her face, and 
 an unwonted colour in her dark cheeks. 
 
 Corona was surprised at meeting Madame Mayer, but 
 she did not show it. She nodded with a sufficiently 
 pleasant smile, and would have passed on. This would 
 not have suited Donna Tullia's intentions, however, for 
 she meant to have a good look at her friend. It was not 
 for nothing that she had made up her mind to go to con 
 fession at a moment's notice. She therefore stopped 
 the Duchessa, and insisted upon shaking hands. 
 
 " What an extraordinary coincidence ! " she exclaimed. 
 " You must have been to see Padre Filippo too ? " 
 
 " Yes," answered Corona. " You will find him in the 
 sacristy." She noticed that Madame Mayer regarded her 
 
SARACINESCA. 79 
 
 with great interest. Indeed she could hardly be aware 
 how unlike her usual self she appeared. There were 
 dark rings beneath her eyes, and her eyes themselves 
 seemed to emit a strange light; while an unwonted 
 colour illuminated her olive cheeks, and her voice had 
 a curiously excited tone. Madame Mayer stared at her 
 so hard that she noticed it. 
 
 "Why do you look at me like that?" asked the 
 Duchessa, with a smile. 
 
 " I was wondering what in the world you could find to 
 confess," replied Donna Tullia, sweetly. "You are so 
 immensely good, you see ; everybody wonders at you." 
 
 Corona's eyes flashed darkly. She suspected that 
 Madame Mayer noticed something unusual in her ap 
 pearance, and had made the awkward speech to conceal 
 her curiosity. She was annoyed at the meeting, still more 
 at being detained in conversation within the church. 
 
 " It is very kind of you to invest me with such vir 
 tues," she answered. " I assure you I am not half so good 
 as you suppose. Good-bye I must be going home." 
 
 " Stay ! " exclaimed Donna Tullia ; " I can go to con 
 fession another time. Will not you come with me to 
 Gouache's studio ? I am going to sit. It is such a bore 
 to go alone." 
 
 " Thank you very much," said Corona, civilly. " I am 
 afraid I cannot go. My husband expects me at home. 
 I wish you a good sitting." 
 
 "Well, good-bye. Oh, I forgot to tell you, we had 
 such a charming picnic yesterday. It was so fortunate 
 the only fine day this week. Giovanni was very amus 
 ing : he was completely en train, and kept us laughing 
 the whole day. Good-bye ; I do so wish you had come." 
 
 " I was very sorry," answered Corona, quietly, " but it 
 was impossible. I am glad you all enjoyed it so much. 
 Good-bye." 
 
 So they parted. 
 
 "How she wishes that same husband of hers would 
 follow the example of my excellent old Mayer, of blessed 
 
80 SAKACINESCA. 
 
 memory, and take himself out of the world to-day or to 
 morrow ! " thought Donna Tullia, as she walked up the 
 church. 
 
 She was sure something unusual had occurred, and she 
 longed to fathom the mystery. But she was not alto 
 gether a bad woman, and when she had collected her 
 thoughts she made up her mind that even by the utmost 
 stretch of moral indulgence, she could not consider her 
 self in a proper state to undertake so serious a matter as 
 confession. She therefore waited a few minutes, to give 
 time for Corona to drive away, and then turned back. 
 She cautiously pushed aside the curtain and looked out. 
 The Astrardente carriage was just disappearing in the 
 distance. Donna Tullia descended the steps, got into 
 her brougham, and proceeded to the studio of Monsieur 
 Anastase Gouache, the portrait-painter. She had not 
 accomplished much, save to rouse her curiosity, and that 
 parting thrust concerning Don Giovanni had been rather 
 ill-timed. 
 
 She drove to the door of the studio and found Del 
 Ferice waiting for her as usual. If Corona had accom 
 panied her, she would have expressed astonishment at 
 finding him ; but, as a matter of fact, Ugo always met 
 her there, and helped to pass the time while she was sit 
 ting. He was very amusing, and not altogether unsym 
 pathetic to her ; and moreover, he professed for her the 
 most profound devotion genuine, perhaps, and certainly 
 skilfully expressed. If any one had paid much attention 
 to Del Ferice's doings, it would have been said that he 
 was paying court to the rich young widow. But he was 
 never looked upon by society from the point of view of 
 matrimonial possibility, and no one thought of attaching 
 any importance to his doings. Nevertheless Ugo, who 
 had been gradually rising in the social scale for many 
 years, saw no reason why he should not win the hand of 
 Donna Tullia as well as any one else, if only Giovanni 
 Saracinesca could be kept out of the way ; and he devoted 
 himself with becoming assiduity to the service of the 
 
SAEAC12TESCA. 81 
 
 widow, while doing his utmost to promote Giovanni's 
 attachment for the Astrardente, which he had been the 
 first to discover. Donna Tullia would probably have 
 laughed to scorn the idea that Del Ferice could think of 
 himself seriously as a suitor, but of all her admirers she 
 found him the most constant and the most convenient. 
 
 " What are the news this morning ? " she asked, as he 
 opened her carriage-door for her before the studio. 
 
 " None, save that I am your faithful slave as ever," he 
 answered. 
 
 " I have just seen the Astrardente," said Donna Tullia, 
 still sitting in her seat. " I will let you guess where it 
 was that we met." 
 
 " You met in the church of the Capuchins/' replied 
 Del Ferice promptly, with a smile of satisfaction. 
 
 " You are a sorcerer : how did you know ? Did you 
 guess it ? " 
 
 " If you will look down this street from where I stand, 
 you will perceive that I could distinctly see any carriage 
 which turned out of the Piazza Barberini towards the 
 Capuchins," replied Ugo. " She was there nearly an 
 hour, and you only stayed five minutes." 
 
 " How dreadful it is to be watched like this ! " ex 
 claimed Donna Tullia, with a little laugh, half expressive 
 of satisfaction and half of amusement at Del Ferice's 
 devotion. 
 
 " How can I help watching you, as the earth watches 
 the sun in its daily course ? " said Ugo, with a senti 
 mental intonation of his soft persuasive voice. Donna 
 Tullia looked at his smooth face, and laughed again, half 
 kindly. 
 
 " The Astrardente had been confessing her sins," she 
 remarked. 
 
 "Again? She is always confessing." 
 
 " What do you suppose she finds to say ? " asked 
 Donna Tullia. 
 
 " That her husband is hideous, and that you are beau 
 tiful," answered Del Ferice, readily enough. 
 
82 SARACINESCA. 
 
 " Why ? " 
 
 " Because she hates her husband and hates you." 
 
 "Why, again?" 
 
 "Because you took Giovanni Saracinesca to your picnic 
 yesterday ; because you are always taking him away from 
 her. For the matter of that, I hate him as much as the 
 Astrardente hates you," added Del Ferice, with an agree 
 able smile. Donna Tullia did not despise flattery, but 
 Ugo made her thoughtful. 
 
 " Do you think she really cares ? " she asked. 
 
 " As surely as that he does not," replied Del Ferice. 
 
 " It would be strange," said Donna Tullia, meditatively. 
 " I would like to know if it is true." 
 
 " You have only to watch them." 
 
 "Surely Giovanni cares more than she does," objected 
 Madame Mayer. " Everybody says he loves her ; nobody 
 says she loves him." 
 
 " All the more reason. Popular report is always mis 
 taken except in regard to you." 
 
 "Tome?" 
 
 " Since it ascribes to you so much that is good, it can 
 not be wrong," replied Del Ferice. 
 
 Donna Tullia laughed, and took his hand to descend 
 from her carriage. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Monsieur Gouache's studio was on the second floor. 
 The narrow flight of steps ended abruptly against a green 
 door, perforated by a slit for the insertion of letters, by a 
 shabby green cord which, being pulled, rang a feeble bell, 
 and adorned by a visiting-card, whereon with many super 
 fluous flourishes and ornaments of caligraphy was inscribed 
 the name of the artist ANASTASE GOUACHE. 
 
 The door being opened by a string, Donna Tullia and 
 Del Ferice entered, and mounting half-a-dozen more 
 
SAKACINESCA. 83 
 
 steps, found themselves in the studio, a spacious room 
 with a window high above the floor, half shaded by a 
 curtain of grey cotton. In one corner an iron stove gave 
 out loud cracking sounds, pleasant to hear on the damp 
 winter's morning, and the flame shone red through 
 chinks of the rusty door. A dark-green carpet in pass 
 ably good condition covered the floor; three or four 
 broad divans, spread with oriental rugs, and two very 
 much dilapidated carved chairs with leathern seats, con 
 stituted the furniture ; the walls were hung with sketches 
 of heads and figures ; half-finished portraits stood upon 
 two easels, and others were leaning together in a corner ; 
 a couple of small tables were covered with colour-tubes, 
 brushes, and palette-knives ; mingled odours of paint, 
 varnish, and cigarette-smoke pervaded the air; and, lastly, 
 upon a high stool before one of the easels, his sleeves 
 turned up to the elbow, and his feet tucked in upon a 
 rail beneath him, sat Anastase Gouache himself. 
 
 He was a man of not more than seven-and-twenty 
 years, with delicate pale features, and an abundance of 
 glossy black hair. A small and very much pointed 
 moustache shaded his upper lip, and the extremities 
 thereof rose short and perpendicular from the corners of 
 his well-shaped mouth. His eyes were dark and singu 
 larly expressive, his forehead low and very broad ; his 
 hands were sufficiently nervous and well knit, but white 
 as a woman's, and the fingers tapered delicately to the 
 tips. He wore a brown velvet coat more or less daubed 
 with paint, and his collar was low at the throat. 
 
 He sprang from his high stool as Donna Tullia and Del 
 Ferice entered, his palette and rnahl-stick in his hand, and 
 made a most ceremonious bow; whereat Donna Tullia 
 laughed gaily. 
 
 " Well, Gouache," she said familiarly, " what have you 
 been doing ? " 
 
 Anastase motioned to her to come before his canvas 
 and contemplate the portrait of herself upon which he 
 was working. It was undeniably good a striking figure 
 
84 SARACINESCA. 
 
 in full-length, life-size, and breathing with Donna Tullia's 
 vitality, if also with something of her coarseness. 
 
 " Ah, my friend," remarked Del Ferice, " you will never 
 be successful until you take my advice." 
 
 " I think it is very like," said Donna Tullia, thought 
 fully. 
 
 " You are too modest," answered Del Ferice. " There 
 is the foundation of likeness, but it lacks yet the soul." 
 
 " Oh, but that will come," returned Madame Mayer. 
 Then turning to the artist, she added in a more doubtful 
 voice, " Perhaps, as Del Ferice says, you might give it a 
 little more expression what shall I say ? more poetry." 
 
 Anastase Gouache smiled a fine smile. He was a man 
 of immense talent ; since he had won the Prix de Rome 
 he had made great progress, and was already half famous 
 with that young celebrity which young men easily mis 
 take for fame itself. A new comet visible only through 
 a good glass causes a deal of talk and speculation in the 
 world ; but unless it comes near enough to brush the 
 earth with its tail, it is very soon forgotten. But 
 Gouache seemed to understand this, and worked steadily 
 on. When Madame Mayer expressed a wish for a little 
 more poetry in her portrait, he smiled, well knowing 
 that poetry was as far removed from her nature as dry 
 champagne is different in quality from small beer. 
 
 " Yes," he said ; " I know I am only too conscious of 
 that defect." As indeed he was conscious of the defect 
 of it in herself. But he had many reasons for not wish 
 ing to quarrel with Donna Tullia, and he swallowed his 
 artistic convictions in a rash resolve to make her look 
 like an inspired prophetess rather than displease her. 
 
 " If you will sit down, I will work upon the head," he 
 said ; and moving one of the old carved chairs into posi 
 tion for her, he adjusted the light and began to work 
 without any further words. Del Ferice installed himself 
 upon a divan whence he could see Donna Tullia and her 
 portrait, and the sitting began. It might have continued 
 for some time in a profound silence as far as the two men 
 
SABACINESCA. 85 
 
 were concerned, but silence was not bearable for long to 
 Donna Tullia. 
 
 " What were you and Saracinesca talking about yester 
 day ? " she asked suddenly, looking towards Del Ferice. 
 
 " Politics," he answered, and was silent. 
 
 " Well ? " inquired Madame Mayer, rather anxiously. 
 
 " I am sure you know his views as well as I," returned 
 Del Ferice, rather gloomily. " He is stupid and preju 
 diced." 
 
 "Really?" ejaculated Gouache, with innocent surprise. 
 "A little more towards me, Madame. Thank you so." 
 And he continued painting. 
 
 "You are absurd, Del Ferice ! " exclaimed Donna Tullia, 
 colouring a little. " You think every one prejudiced and 
 stupid who does not agree with you." 
 
 " With me ? With you, with us, you should say. 
 Giovanni is a specimen of the furious Conservative, who 
 hates change and has a cold chill at the word i republic.' 
 Do you call that intelligent ? " 
 
 " Giovanni is intelligent for all that," answered Mad 
 ame Mayer. " I am not sure that he is not more intelli 
 gent than you in some ways," she added, after allowing 
 her rebuke to take effect. 
 
 Del Ferice smiled blandly. It was not his business to 
 show that he was hurt. 
 
 "In one thing he is stupid compared with me," he 
 replied. "He is very far from doing justice to your 
 charms. It must be a singular lack of intelligence which 
 prevents him from seeing that you are as beautiful as you 
 are charming. Is it not so, Gouache ? " 
 
 " Does any one deny it ? " asked the Frenchman, with 
 an air of devotion. 
 
 Madame Mayer blushed with annnoyance ; both because 
 she coveted Giovanni's admiration more than that of other 
 men, and knew that she had not won it, and because she 
 hated to feel that Del Ferice was able to wound her so 
 easily. To cover her discomfiture she returned to the 
 subject of politics. 
 
86 SABACINESCA. 
 
 " We talk a great deal of our convictions," she said ; 
 "but in the meanwhile we must acknowledge that we 
 have accomplished nothing at all. What is the good of 
 our meeting here two or three times a- week, meeting in 
 society, whispering together, corresponding in cipher, and 
 doing all manner of things, when everything goes on just 
 the same as before ? " 
 
 "Better give it up and join Don Giovanni and his 
 party," returned Del Ferice, with a sneer. "He says if a 
 change comes he will make the best of it. Of course, we 
 could not do better." 
 
 "With us it is so easy," said Gouache, thoughtfully. 
 "A handful of students, a few paving-stones, 'Vive la 
 Re"publique ! ' and we have a tumult in no time." 
 
 That was not the kind of revolution in which Del 
 Ferice proposed to have a hand. He meditated playing 
 a very small part in some great movement; and when the 
 righting should be over, he meant to exaggerate the part 
 he had played, and claim a substantial reward. For a 
 good title and twenty thousand francs a-year he would 
 have become as stanch for the temporal power as any 
 canon of St. Peter's. When he had begun talking of 
 revolutions to Madame Mayer and to half-a-dozen hare 
 brained youths, of whom Gouache the painter was one, he 
 had not really the slightest idea of accomplishing any 
 thing. He took advantage of the prevailing excitement 
 in order to draw Donna Tullia into a closer confidence 
 than he could otherwise have aspired to obtain. He 
 wanted to marry her, and every new power he could ob 
 tain over her was a step towards his goal. Neither she 
 nor her friends were of the stuff required for revolution 
 ary work ; but Del Ferice had hopes that, by means of 
 the knot of malcontents he was gradually drawing to 
 gether, he might ruin Giovanni Saracinesca, and get the 
 hand of Donna Tullia in marriage. He himself was in 
 deed deeply implicated in the plots of the Italian party ; 
 but he was only employed as a spy, and in reality knew 
 no more of the real intentions of those he served than did 
 
SARACINESCA. 87 
 
 Donna Tullia herself. But the position was sufficiently 
 lucrative ; so much so that he had been obliged to ac 
 count for his accession of fortune by saying that an 
 uncle of his had died and left him money. 
 
 "If you expected Don Giovanni to join a mob of stu 
 dents in tearing up paving-stones and screaming 'Vive la 
 Re*publique ! ' I am not surprised that you are disappointed 
 in your expectations," said Donna Tullia, rather scornfully. 
 
 " That is only Gouache's idea of a popular movement," 
 answered Del Ferice. 
 
 "And yours," returned Anastase, lowering his mahl- 
 stick and brushes, and turning sharply upon the Italian 
 "yours would be to begin by stabbing Cardinal An- 
 tonelli in the back." 
 
 " You mistake me, my friend," returned Del Ferice, 
 blandly. " If you volunteered to perform that service to 
 Italy, I would certainly not dissuade you. But I would 
 certainly not offer you my assistance." 
 
 " Fie ! How can you talk like that of murder ! " 
 exclaimed Donna Tullia. " Go on with your painting, 
 Gouache, and do not be ridiculous." 
 
 "The question of tyrannicide is marvellously inter 
 esting," answered Anastase in a meditative tone, as he 
 resumed his work, and glanced critically from Madame 
 Mayer to his canvas and back again. 
 
 " It belongs to a class of actions at which Del Ferice 
 rejoices, but in which he desires no part," said Donna 
 Tullia. 
 
 "It seems to me wiser to contemplate accomplishing 
 the good result without any unnecessary and treacherous 
 bloodshed," answered Del Ferice, sententiously. Again 
 Gouache smiled in his delicate satirical fashion, and 
 glanced at Madame Mayer, who burst into a laugh. 
 
 "Moral reflections never sound so especially and ridicu 
 lously moral as in your mouth, Ugo," she said. 
 
 "Why ? " he asked, in an injured tone. 
 
 " I am sure I do not know. Of course, we all would 
 like to see Victor Emmanuel in the Quirinal, and Rome 
 
88 SARACINESCA. 
 
 the capital of a free Italy. Of course we would all like 
 to see it accomplished without murder or bloodshed ; but 
 somehow, when you put it into words, it sounds very 
 absurd." 
 
 In her brutal fashion Madame Mayer had hit upon a 
 great truth, and Del Ferice was very much annoyed. He 
 knew himself to be a scoundrel ; he knew Madame Mayer 
 to be a woman of very commonplace intellect ; he won 
 dered why he was not able to deceive her more effectually. 
 He was often able to direct her, he sometimes elicited from 
 her some expression of admiration at his astuteness; but 
 in spite of his best efforts, she saw through him and 
 understood him better than he liked. 
 
 "I am sorry," he said, "that what is honourable should 
 sound ridiculous when it comes from me. I like to think 
 sometimes that you believe in me." 
 
 "Oh, I do," protested Donna Tullia, with a sudden 
 change of manner. " I was only laughing. I think you 
 are really in earnest. Only, you know, nowadays, it is 
 not the fashion to utter moralities in a severe tone, with an 
 air of conviction. A little dash of cynicism you know, 
 a sort of half sneer is so much more chic; it gives a much 
 higher idea of the morality, because it conveys the impres 
 sion that it is utterly beyond you. Ask Gouache " 
 
 " By all means," said the artist, squeezing a little more 
 red from the tube upon his palette, " one should always 
 sneer at what one cannot reach. The fox, you remember, 
 called the grapes sour. He was probably right, for he is 
 the most intelligent of animals." 
 
 " I would like to hear what Giovanni had to say about 
 those grapes," remarked Donna Tullia. 
 
 " Oh, he sneered in the most fashionable way," answered 
 Del Ferice. " He would have pleased you immensely. He 
 said that he would be ruined by a change of government, 
 and that he thought it his duty to fight against it. He 
 talked a great deal about the level of the Tiber, and 
 landed property, and the duties of gentlemen. And he 
 ended by saying he would make the best of any change 
 
SARACINESCA. 89 
 
 that happened to come about, like a thoroughgoing ego 
 tist, as he is ! " 
 
 " I would like to hear what you think of Don Giovanni 
 Saracinesca," said Gouache j " and then I would like to 
 hear what he thinks of you." 
 
 " I can tell you both," answered Del Ferice. " I think 
 of him that he is a thorough aristocrat, full of prejudices 
 and money, unwilling to sacrifice his convictions to his 
 wealth or his wealth to his convictions, intelligent in re 
 gard to his own interests and blind to those of others, 
 imbued with a thousand and one curious feudal notions, 
 and overcome with a sense of his own importance." 
 
 " And what does he think of you ? " asked Anastase, 
 working busily. 
 
 "Oh, it is very simple," returned Del Ferice, with a 
 laugh. " He thinks I am a great scoundrel." 
 
 " Really ! How strange ! I should not have said that." 
 
 "What? That Del Ferice is a scoundrel?" asked 
 Donna Tullia, laughing. 
 
 " No ; I should not have said it," repeated Anastase, 
 thoughtfully. " I should say that our friend Del Ferice 
 is a man of the most profound philanthropic convictions, 
 nobly devoting his life to the pursuit of liberty, fraternity, 
 and equality." 
 
 " Do you really think so ? " asked Donna Tullia, with 
 a half-comic glance at Ugo, who looked uncommonly 
 grave. 
 
 " Madame," returned Gouache, " I never permit myself 
 to think otherwise of any of my friends." 
 
 " Upon my word," remarked Del Ferice, " I am de 
 lighted at the compliment, my dear fellow ; but I must 
 infer that your judgment of your friends is singularly 
 limited." 
 
 " Perhaps," answered Gouache. " But the number of 
 my friends is not large, and I myself am very enthusi 
 astic. I look forward to the day when ' liberty, equality, 
 and fraternity ' shall be inscribed in letters of flame, in 
 the most expensive Bengal lights if you please, over the 
 
90 SARACINESCA. 
 
 porte coch&re of every palace in Borne, not to mention the 
 churches. I look forward to that day, but I have not the 
 slightest expectation of ever seeing it. Moreover, if it 
 ever comes, I will pack up my palette and brushes and 
 go somewhere else by the nearest route." 
 
 " Good heavens, Gouache ! " exclaimed Donna Tullia ; 
 " how can you talk like that ? It is really dreadfully 
 irreverent to jest about our most sacred convictions, or to 
 say that we desire to see those words written over the 
 doors of our churches ! " 
 
 " I am not jesting. I worship Victor Hugo. I love to 
 dream of the universal republic it has immense artistic 
 attractions the fierce yelling crowd, the savage faces, the 
 red caps, the terrible maenad women urging the brawny 
 ruffians on to shed more blood, the lurid light of burning 
 churches, the pale and trembling victims dragged beneath 
 the poised knife, ah, it is superb, it has stupendous 
 artistic capabilities ! But for myself bah ! I am a good 
 Catholic I wish nobody any harm, for life is very gay 
 after all." 
 
 At this remarkable exposition of Anastase Gouache's 
 views in regard to the utility of revolutions, Del Ferice 
 laughed loudly ; but Anastase remained perfectly grave, 
 for he was perfectly sincere. Del Ferice, to whom the 
 daily whispered talk of revolution in Donna Tullia's 
 circle was mere child's play, was utterly indifferent, and 
 suffered himself to be amused by the young artist's vaga 
 ries. But Donna Tullia, who longed to see herself the 
 centre of a real plot, thought that she was being laughed 
 at, and pouted her red lips and frowned her displeasure. 
 
 " I believe you have no convictions ! " she said angrily. 
 "While we are risking our lives and fortunes for the 
 good cause, you sit here in your studio dreaming of bar 
 ricades and guillotines, merely as subjects for pictures 
 you even acknowledge that in case we produce a revo 
 lution you would go away." 
 
 " Not without finishing this portrait," returned Ana 
 stase, quite unmoved. " It is an exceedingly good like- 
 
SARACINESCA. 91 
 
 ness ; and in case you should ever disappear you know 
 people sometimes do in revolutions or if by any unlucky 
 accident your beautiful neck should chance beneath that 
 guillotine you just mentioned, why, then, this canvas 
 would be the most delightful souvenir of many pleasant 
 mornings, would it not ? " 
 
 " You are incorrigible," said Donna Tullia, with a slight 
 laugh. " You cannot be serious for a moment." 
 
 "It is very hard to paint you when your expression 
 changes so often," replied Anastase, calmly. 
 
 " I am not in a good humour for sitting to you this 
 morning. I wish you would amuse me, Del Ferice. You 
 generally can." 
 
 " I thought politics amused you " 
 
 "They interest me. But Gouache's ideas are detestable." 
 
 " Will you not give us some of your own, Madame ? " 
 inquired the painter, stepping back from his canvas to get 
 a better view of his work. 
 
 " Oh, mine are very simple," answered Donna Tullia. 
 " Victor Emmanuel, Garibaldi, and a free press." 
 
 " A combination of monarchy, republicanism, and popu 
 lar education not very interesting," remarked Gouache, 
 still eyeing his picture. 
 
 " No ; there would be nothing for you to paint, except 
 portraits of the liberators " 
 
 "There is a great deal of that done. I have seen 
 them in every cafe in the north of Italy," interrupted 
 the artist. " I would like to paint Garibaldi. He has a 
 fine head." 
 
 " I will ask him to sit to you when he comes here." 
 
 " When he comes I shall be here no longer," answered 
 Gouache. "They will whitewash the Corso, they will 
 make a restaurant of the Colosseum, and they will hoist 
 the Italian flag on the cross of St. Peter's. Then I will 
 go to Constantinople ; there will still be some years be 
 fore Turkey is modernised." 
 
 " Artists are hopeless people," said Del Ferice. " They 
 are utterly illogical, and it is impossible to deal with them. 
 
92 SAKACINESCA. 
 
 If you like old cities, why do you not like old women ? 
 Why would you not rather paint Donna Tullia's old 
 Countess than Donna Tullia herself ? " 
 
 " That is precisely the opposite ca.se/ 7 replied Anastase, 
 quietly. " The works of man are never so beautiful as 
 when they are falling to decay ; the works of God are most 
 beautiful when they are young. You might as well say 
 that because wine improves with age, therefore horses do 
 likewise. The faculty of comparison is lacking in your 
 mind, my dear Del Ferice, as it is generally lacking in the 
 minds of true patriots. Great reforms and great revolu 
 tions are generally brought about by people of fierce and 
 desperate convictions, like yours, who go to extreme 
 lengths, and never know when to stop. The quintessence 
 of an artist's talent is precisely that faculty of comparison, 
 that gift of knowing when the thing he is doing corre 
 sponds as nearly as he can make it with the thing he has 
 imagined." 
 
 There was no tinge of sarcasm in Gouache's voice as he 
 imputed to Del Ferice the savage enthusiasm of a revolu 
 tionist. But when Gouache, who was by no means calm 
 by nature, said anything in a particularly gentle tone, there 
 was generally a sting in it, and Del Ferice reflected upon 
 the mean traffic in stolen information by which he got his 
 livelihood, and was ashamed. Somehow, too, Donna Tullia 
 felt that the part she fancied herself playing was contempt 
 ible enough when compared with the hard work, the earn 
 est purpose, and the remarkable talent of the young artist. 
 But though she felt her inferiority, she would have died 
 rather than own it, even to Del Ferice. She knew that 
 for months she had talked with Del Ferice, with Valdarno, 
 with Casalverde, even with the melancholy and ironical 
 Spicca, concerning conspiracies and deeds of darkness of 
 all kinds, and she knew that she and they might go on 
 talking for ever in the same strain without producing the 
 smallest effect on events ; but she never to the very end 
 relinquished the illusion she cherished so dearly, that she 
 was really and truly a conspirator, and that if any one of 
 
SABACINESCA. 93 
 
 her light-headed acquaintance betrayed the rest, they 
 might all be ordered out of Rome in four-and-twenty 
 hours, or might even disappear into that long range of 
 dark buildings to the left of the colonnade of St. Peter's, 
 martyrs to the cause of their own self-importance and 
 semi-theatrical vanity. There were many knots of such 
 self-fancied conspirators in those days, whose wildest deed 
 of daring was to whisper across a glass of champagne in 
 a ball-room, or over a tumbler of Velletri wine in a Tras- 
 teverine cellar, the magic and awe-inspiring words, "Viva 
 Garibaldi ! Viva Vittorio ! " They accomplished nothing. 
 The same men and women are now grumbling and regret 
 ting the flesh-pots of the old Government, or whispering 
 in impotent discontent " Viva la Eepubblica ! " and they 
 and their descendants will go on whispering something 
 to each other to the end of time, while mightier hands 
 than theirs are tearing down empires and building up 
 irresistible coalitions, and drawing red pencil-marks 
 through the geography of Europe. 
 
 The conspirators of those days accomplished nothing 
 after Pius IX. returned from Gaeta ; the only men who 
 were of any use at all were those who, like Del Ferice, 
 had sources of secret information, and basely sold their 
 scraps of news. But even they were of small impor 
 tance. The moment had not come, and all the talking 
 and whispering and tale-bearing in the world could not 
 hasten events, nor change their course. But Donna 
 Tullia was puffed up with a sense of her importance, and 
 Del Ferice managed to attract just as much attention to 
 his harmless chatter about progress as would permit him 
 undisturbed to carry on his lucrative traffic in secret 
 information. 
 
 Donna Tullia, who was not in the least artistic, and 
 who by no means appreciated the merits of the portrait 
 Gouache was painting, was very far from comprehending 
 his definition of artistic comparison ; but Del Ferice un 
 derstood it very well. Donna Tullia had much foreign 
 blood in her veins, like most of her class; but Del 
 
 Vol. 105 
 
94 SAKACINESCA. 
 
 Ferice's obscure descent was in all probability purely 
 Italian, and lie had inherited the common instinct in 
 matters of art which is a part of the Italian birthright. 
 He had recognised Gouache's wonderful talent, and had 
 first brought Donna Tullia to his studio a matter of 
 little difficulty when she had learned that the young 
 artist had already a reputation. It pleased her to fancy 
 that by telling him to paint her portrait she might pose 
 as his patroness, and hereafter reap the reputation of 
 having influenced his career. For fashion, and the de 
 sire to be the representative of fashion, led Donna Tullia 
 hither and thither as a lapdog is led by a string ; and 
 there is nothing more in the fashion than to patronise a 
 fashionable portrait-painter. 
 
 But after Anastase G-ouache had thus delivered him 
 self of his views upon Del Ferice and the faculty of 
 artistic comparison, the conversation languished, and 
 Donna Tullia grew restless. " She had sat enough," she 
 said; and as her expression was not favourable to the 
 portrait, Anastase did not contradict her, but presently 
 suffered her to depart in peace with her devoted adorer 
 at her heels. And when they were gone, Anastase lighted 
 a cigarette, and took a piece of charcoal and sketched a 
 caricature of Donna Tullia in a liberty cap, in a fine 
 theatrical attitude, invoking the aid of Del Ferice, who 
 appeared as the Angel of Death, with the guillotine in the 
 background. Having put the finishing touches to this 
 work of art, Anastase locked his studio and went to 
 breakfast, humming an air from the " Belle Helene." 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 When Corona reached home she went to her own small 
 boudoir, with the intention of remaining there for an hour 
 if she could do so without being disturbed. There was a 
 prospect of this ; for on inquiry she ascertained that her 
 
SABACINESCA. 95 
 
 husband was not yet dressed, and his dressing took a very 
 long time. He had a cosmopolitan valet, who alone of 
 living men understood the art of fitting the artificial and 
 the natural Astrardente together. Corona believed this 
 man to be an accomplished scoundrel ; but she never had 
 any proof that he was anything worse than a very clever 
 servant, thoroughly unscrupulous where his master's in 
 terests or his own were concerned. The old Duca believed 
 in him sincerely and trusted him alone, feeling that since 
 he could never be a hero in his valet's eyes, he might as 
 well take advantage of that misfortune in order to gain a 
 confident. 
 
 Corona found three or four letters upon her table, and 
 sat down to read them, letting her fur mantle drop to the 
 floor, and putting her small feet out towards the fire, for 
 the pavement of the church had been cold. 
 
 She was destined to pass an eventful day, it seemed. 
 One of the letters was from Giovanni Saracinesca. It 
 was the first time he had ever written to her, and she was 
 greatly surprised on finding his name at the foot of the 
 page. He wrote a strong clear handwriting, entirely 
 without adornment of penmanship, close and regular and 
 straight : there was an air of determination about it which 
 was sympathetic, and a conciseness of expression which 
 startled Corona, as though she had heard the man him 
 self speaking to her. 
 
 "I write, dear Duchessa, because I covet your good 
 opinion, and my motive is therefore before all things an 
 interested one. I would not have you think that I had 
 idly asked your advice about a thing so important to me 
 as my marriage, in order to discard your counsel at the 
 first opportunity. There was too much reason in the view 
 you took of the matter to admit of my not giving your 
 opinion all the weight I could, even if I had not already 
 determined upon the very course you advised. Circum 
 stances have occurred, however, which have almost 
 induced me to change my mind. I have had an inter- 
 
96 SARACINESCA. 
 
 view with, my father, who has put the matter very plainly 
 before me. I hardly know how to tell you this, but I feel 
 that I owe it to you to explain myself, however much 
 you may despise me for what I am going to say. It is 
 very simple, nevertheless. My father has informed me 
 that by my conduct I have caused my name to be coupled 
 in the mouth of the gossips with that of a person very 
 dear to me, but whom I am unfortunately prevented from 
 marrying. He has convinced me that I owe to this lady, 
 who, I confess, takes no interest whatever in me, the 
 only reparation possible to be made that of taking a 
 wife, and thus publicly demonstrating that there was 
 never any truth in what has been said. As a marriage 
 will probably be forced upon me some day, it is as well to 
 let things take their course at once, in order that a step 
 so disagreeable to myself may at least distantly profit 
 one whom I love in removing me from the appearance of 
 being a factor in her life. The gossip about me has never 
 reached your ears, but if it should, you will be the better 
 able to understand my position. 
 
 " Do not think, therefore, that if I do not follow your 
 advice I am altogether inconsistent, or that I wantonly 
 presumed to consult you without any intention of being 
 guided by you. Forgive me also this letter, which I am 
 impelled to write from somewhat mean motives of vanity, 
 in the hope of not altogether forfeiting your opinion; 
 and especially I beg you to believe that I am at all times 
 the most obedient of your servants, 
 
 " GIOVANNI SARACINESCA." 
 
 Of what use was it that she had that morning deter 
 mined to forget Giovanni, since he had the power of thus 
 bringing himself before her by means of a scrap of paper ? 
 Corona's hand closed upon the letter convulsively, and 
 for a moment the room seemed to swim around her. 
 
 So there was some one whom he loved, some one for 
 whose fair name he was willing to sacrifice himself even 
 to the extent of marrying against his will. Some one, 
 
SARACINESCA. 97 
 
 too, who not only did not love Mm, but took no interest 
 whatever in him. Those were his own words, and they 
 must be true, for he never lied. That accounted for his 
 accompanying Donna Tullia to the picnic. He was going 
 to marry her after all. To save the woman he loved so 
 hopelessly from the mere suspicion of being loved by him, 
 he was going to tie himself for life to the first who would 
 marry him. That would never prevent the gossips from 
 saying that he loved this other woman as much as ever. 
 It could do her no great harm, since she took no interest 
 whatever in him. Who could she be, this cold creature, 
 whom even Giovanni could not move to interest ? It was 
 absurd the letter was absurd the whole thing was 
 absurd ! None but a madman would think of pursuing 
 such a course ; and why should he think it necessary to 
 confide his plans his very foolish plans to her, Corona 
 d'Astrardente, why ? Ah, Giovanni, how different 
 things might have been ! 
 
 Corona rose angrily from her seat and leaned against 
 the broad chimney-piece, and looked at the clock it was 
 nearly mid-day. He might marry whom he pleased, and 
 be welcome what was it to her ? He might marry and 
 sacrifice himself if he pleased what was it to her ? 
 
 She thought of her own life. She, too, had sacrificed 
 herself ; she, too, had tied herself for life to a man she 
 despised in her heart, and she had done it for an object 
 she had thought good. She looked steadily at the clock, 
 for she would not give way, nor bend her head and cry 
 bitter tears again ; but the tears were in her eyes, never 
 theless. 
 
 "Giovanni, you must not do it you must not do it!" 
 Her lips formed the words without speaking them, and 
 repeated the thought again and again. Her heart beat 
 fast and her cheeks flushed darkly. She spread out the 
 crumpled letter and read it once more. As she read, the 
 most intense curiosity seized her to know who this 
 woman might be whom Giovanni so loved j and with her 
 curiosity there was a new feeling an utterly hateful and 
 
98 SARACINESCA. 
 
 hating passion something so strong, that it suddenly 
 dried her tears and sent the blood from her cheeks back 
 to her heart. Her white hand was clenched, and her 
 eyes were on fire. Ah, if she could only find that woman 
 he loved ! if she could only see her dead dead with 
 Giovanni Saracinesca there upon the floor before her ! 
 As she thought of it, she stamped her foot upon the thick 
 carpet, and her face grew paler. She did not know what 
 it was that she felt, but it completely overmastered her. 
 Padre Filippo would be pleased, she thought, for she 
 knew how in that moment she hated Giovanni Sara 
 cinesca. 
 
 With a sudden impulse she again sat down and opened 
 the letter next to her hand. It was a gossiping epistle 
 from a friend in Paris, full of stories of the day, excla 
 mations upon fashion and all kinds of emptiness ; she 
 was about to throw it down impatiently and take up the 
 next when her eyes caught Giovanni's name. 
 
 " Of course it is nofr true that Saracinesca is to marry 
 Madame Mayer, . . . " were the words she read. But 
 that was all. There chanced to have been just room for 
 the sentence at the foot of the page, and by the time her 
 friend had turned over the leaf, she had already for 
 gotten what she had written, and was running on with a 
 different idea. It seemed as though Corona were haunted 
 by Giovanni at every turn ; but she had not reached the 
 end yet, for one letter still remained. She tore open the 
 envelope, and found that the contents consisted of a few 
 lines penned in a small and irregular hand, without sig 
 nature. There was an air of disguise about the whole, 
 which was unpleasant; it was written upon a common 
 sort of paper, and had come through the city post. It 
 ran as follows : 
 
 " The Duchessa d'Astrardente reminds us of the fable 
 of the dog in the horse's manger, for she can neither eat 
 herself nor let others eat. She will not accept Don 
 Giovanni Saracinesca's devotion, but she effectually pre 
 vents him from fulfilling his engagements to others." 
 
SABACINESCA. 99 
 
 If Corona had been in her ordinary mood, she would 
 very likely have laughed at the anonymous communica 
 tion. She had formerly received more than one passion 
 ate declaration, not signed indeed, but accompanied 
 always by some clue to the identity of the writer, ancl 
 she had carelessly thrown them into the fire. But there 
 was no such indication here whereby she might discover 
 who it was who had undertaken to criticise her, to cast 
 upon her so unjust an accusation. Moreover, she was 
 very angry and altogether thrown out of her usually calm 
 humour. Her first impulse was to go to her husband, 
 and in the strength of her innocence to show him the 
 letter. Then she laughed bitterly as she thought how 
 the selfish old dandy would scoff at her sensitiveness, and 
 how utterly incapable he would be of discovering the 
 offender or of punishing the offence. Then again her 
 face was grave, and she asked herself whether it was 
 true that she was innocent; whether she were not really 
 to be blamed, if perhaps she had really prevented Gio 
 vanni from marrying Donna Tullia. 
 
 But if that were true, she must herself be the woman 
 he spoke of in his letter. Any other woman would have 
 suspected as much. Corona went to the window, and 
 for an instant there was a strange light of pleasure in 
 her face. Then she grew very thoughtful, and her whole 
 mood changed. She could not conceive it possible that 
 Giovanni so loved her as to marry for her sake. Besides, 
 no one could ever have breathed a word of him in con 
 nection with herself until this abominable anonymous 
 letter was written. 
 
 The thought that she might, after all, be the " person 
 very dear to him," the one who " took no interest what 
 ever in him," had nevertheless crossed her mind, and 
 had given her for one moment a sense of wild and in 
 describable pleasure. Then she remembered what she 
 had felt before ; how angry, how utterly beside herself, 
 she had been at the thought of another woman being 
 loved by him, and she suddenly understood that she was 
 
100 SAEACINESCA. 
 
 jealous of her. The very thought revived in her the 
 belief that it was not she herself who was thus influenc 
 ing the life of Giovanni Saracinesca, but another, and she 
 sat silent and pale. 
 
 Of course it was another ! What had she done, what 
 word had she spoken, whereby the world might pretend 
 to believe that she controlled this man's actions ? " Ful 
 filling his engagements," the letter said, too. It must 
 have been written by an ignorant person by some one 
 who had no idea of what was passing, and who wrote at 
 random, hoping to touch a sensitive chord, to do some 
 harm, to inflict some pain, in petty vengeance for a 
 fancied slight. But in her heart, though she crushed 
 down the instinct, she would have believed the anony 
 mous jest well founded, for the sake of believing, too, 
 that Giovanni Saracinesca was ready to lay his life at 
 her feet although in that belief she would have felt 
 that she was committing a mortal sin. 
 
 She went back to her interview that morning with 
 Padre Filippo, and thought over all she had said and all 
 he had answered ; how she had been willing to admit 
 the possibility of Giovanni's love, and how sternly the 
 confessor had ruled down the clause, and told her there 
 should never arise such a doubt in her mind ; how she 
 had scorned herself for being capable of seeking love 
 where there was none, and how she had sworn that there 
 should be no perhaps in the matter. It seemed very 
 hard to do right, but she would try to see where the 
 right lay. In the first place, she should burn the anony 
 mous letter, and never condescend to think of it ; and 
 she should also burn Giovanni's, because it would be an 
 injustice to him to keep it. She looked once more at 
 the unsigned, ill-written page, and, with a little scornful 
 laugh, threw it from where she sat into the fire with its 
 envelope; then she took Giovanni's note, and would 
 have done the same, but her hand trembled, and the 
 crumpled bit of paper fell upon the hearth. She rose 
 from her chair quickly, and took it up again, kneeling 
 
SARACINESCA. 101 
 
 before the fire, like some beautiful dark priestess of old 
 feeding the flames of a sacred altar. She smoothed the 
 paper out once more, and once more read the even 
 characters, and looked long at the signature, and back 
 again to the writing. 
 
 " This lady, who, I confess, takes no interest whatever 
 in me. . . ." 
 
 "How could he say it!" she exclaimed aloud. "Oh, 
 if I knew who she was ! " With an impatient movement 
 she thrust the letter among the coals, and watched the 
 fire curl it and burn it, from white to brown and from 
 brown to black, till it was all gone. Then she rose to 
 her feet and left the room. 
 
 Her husband certainly did not guess that the Duchessa 
 d'Astrardente had spent so eventful a morning ; and if 
 any one had told him that his wife had been through a 
 dozen stages of emotion, he would have laughed, and 
 would have told his informant that Corona was not of 
 the sort who experience violent passions. That evening 
 they went to the opera together, and the old man was in 
 an unusually cheerful humour. A new coat had just 
 arrived from Paris, and the padding had attained a higher 
 degree of scientific perfection than heretofore. Corona 
 also looked more beautiful than even her husband ever 
 remembered to have seen her ; she wore a perfectly simple 
 gown of black satin without the smallest relief of colour, 
 and upon her neck the famous Astrardente necklace of 
 pearls, three strings of even thickness, each jewel exquis 
 itely white and just lighted in its shadow by a delicate 
 pink tinge such a necklace as an empress might have 
 worn. In the raven masses of her hair there was not the 
 least ornament, nor did any flower enhance the rich 
 blackness of its silken coils. It would be impossible to 
 imagine greater simplicity than Corona showed in her 
 dress, but it would be hard to conceive of any woman 
 who possessed by virtue of severe beauty a more indubit 
 able right to dispense with ornament. 
 
 The theatre was crowded. There was a performance 
 
1 02 SARACINESCA. 
 
 of "Norma," for which, several celebrated artists had 
 been engaged an occurrence so rare in Rome, that the 
 theatre was absolutely full. The Astrardente box was 
 upon the second tier, just where the amphitheatre began 
 to curve. There was room in it for four or five persons 
 to see the stage. 
 
 The Duchessa and her husband arrived in the middle 
 of the first act, and remained alone until it was over. 
 Corona was extremely fond of " Norma," and after she 
 was seated never took her eyes from the stage. Astrar 
 dente, on the other hand, maintained his character as a 
 man of no illusions, and swept the house with his small 
 opera-glass. The instrument itself was like him, and 
 would have been appropriate for a fine lady of the First 
 Empire ; it was of mother-of-pearl, made very small and 
 light, the metal-work upon it heavily gilt and ornamented 
 with turquoises. The old man glanced from time to time 
 at the stage, and then again settled himself to the study 
 of the audience, which interested him far more than the 
 opera. 
 
 " Every human being you ever heard of is here," he 
 remarked at the end of the first act. " Really I should 
 think you would find it worth while to look at your 
 magnificent fellow-creatures, my dear." 
 
 Corona looked slowly round the house. She had ex 
 cellent eyes, and never used a glass. She saw the same 
 faces she had seen for five years, the same occasional 
 flash of beauty, the same average number of over-dressed 
 women, the same paint, the same feathers, the same jewels. 
 She saw opposite to her Madame Mayer, with the elderly 
 countess whom she patronised for the sake of deafness, 
 and found convenient as a sort of flying chaperon. The 
 countess could not hear much of the music, but she was 
 fond of the world and liked to be seen, and she could 
 not hear at all what Del Ferice said in an undertone to 
 Madame Mayer. Sufficient to her were the good things 
 of the day ; the rest was in no way her business. There 
 was Yaldafno in the club-box, with a knot of other men 
 
SARACINESCA. 103 
 
 of his own stamp. There were the Rocca, mother and 
 daughter and son a boy of eighteen and a couple of 
 men in the back of the box. Everybody was there, as her 
 husband had said ; and as she dropped her glance toward 
 the stalls, she was aware of Giovanni Saracinesca's black 
 eyes looking anxiously up to her. A faint smile crossed 
 her serene face, and almost involuntarily she nodded to 
 him and then looked away. Many men were watching 
 her, and bowed as she glanced at them, and she bent her 
 head to each ; but there was no smile for any save Gio 
 vanni, and when she looked again to where he had been 
 standing with his back to the stage, he was gone from 
 his place. 
 
 " They are the same old things," said Astrardente, " but 
 they are still very amusing. Madame Mayer always 
 seems to get the wrong man into her box. She would 
 give all those diamonds to have Giovanni Saracinesca 
 instead of that newsmonger fellow. If he comes here 
 I will send him across." 
 
 " Perhaps she likes Del Ferice," suggested Corona. 
 
 "He is a good lapdog a very good dog," answered her 
 husband. " He cannot bite at all, and his bark is so soft 
 that you would take it for the mewing of a kitten. He 
 fetches and carries admirably." 
 
 " Those are good points, but not interesting ones. He 
 is very tiresome with his eternal puns and insipid com 
 pliments, and his gossip." 
 
 " But he is so very harmless," answered Astrardente, 
 with compassionate scorn. " He is incapable of doing an 
 injury. Donna Tullia is wise in adopting him as her 
 slave. She would not be so safe with Saracinesca, for 
 instance. If you feel the need of an admirer, my dear, 
 take Del Ferice. I have no objection to him." 
 
 "Why should I need admirers ? " asked Corona, quietly. 
 
 " I was merely jesting, my love. Is not your own hus 
 band the greatest of your admirers, and your devoted 
 slave into the bargain ? " Old Astrardente's face twisted 
 itself into the semblance of a smile, as he leaned towards 
 
104 SARACINESCA. 
 
 his young wife, lowering his cracked voice to a thin whis- 
 per. He was genuinely in love with her, and lost no oppor 
 tunity of telling her so. She smiled a little wearily. 
 
 " You are very good to me," she said. She had often 
 wondered how it was that this aged creature, who had 
 never been faithful to any attachment in his life for five 
 months, did really seem to love her just as he had done 
 for five years. It was perhaps the greatest triumph she 
 could have attained, though she never thought of it in 
 that light ; but though she could not respect her husband 
 very much, she could not think unkindly of him for, as 
 she said, he was very good to her. She often reproached 
 herself because he wearied her; she believed that she 
 should have taken more pleasure in his admiration. 
 
 " I cannot help being good to you, my angel," he said. 
 " How could I be otherwise ? Do I not love you most 
 passionately ? " 
 
 " Indeed, I think so," Corona answered. As she spoke 
 there was a knock at the door. Her heart leaped wildly, 
 and she turned a little pale. 
 
 " The devil seize these visitors ! " muttered old Astrar- 
 dente, annoyed beyond measure at being interrupted 
 when making love to his wife. " I suppose we must let 
 them in ? " 
 
 "I suppose so," assented the Duchessa, with forced 
 calm. Her husband opened the door, and Giovanni Sara- 
 cinesca entered, hat in hand. 
 
 " Sit down," said Astrardente, rather harshly. 
 
 "I trust I am not disturbing you," replied Giovanni, 
 still standing. He was somewhat surprised at the old 
 man's inhospitable tone. 
 
 " Oh no ; not in the least," said the latter, quickly re 
 gaining his composure. "Pray sit down; the act will 
 begin in a moment." 
 
 Giovanni established himself upon the chair immedi 
 ately behind the Duchessa. He had come to talk, and he 
 anticipated that during the second act he would have an 
 excellent opportunity. 
 
SAKACINESCA. 105 
 
 "I hear you enjoyed yourselves yesterday," said Corona, 
 turning her head so as to speak more easily. 
 
 " Indeed ! " Giovanni answered, and a shade of annoy 
 ance crossed his face. " And who was your informant, 
 Duchessa ? " 
 
 " Donna Tullia. I met her this morning. She said you 
 amused them all kept them laughing the whole day." 
 
 " What an extraordinary statement ! " exclaimed Gio 
 vanni. "It shows how one may unconsciously furnish 
 matter for mirth. I do not recollect having talked much 
 to any one. It was a noisy party enough, however." 
 
 "Perhaps Donna Tullia spoke ironically," suggested 
 Corona. " Do you like ' Norma ' ? " 
 
 " Oh yes ; one opera is as good as another. There goes 
 the curtain." 
 
 The act began, and for some minutes no one in the box 
 spoke. Presently there was a burst of orchestral music. 
 Giovanni leaned forward so that his face was close be 
 hind Corona. He could speak without being heard by 
 Astrardente. 
 
 " Did you receive my letter ? " he asked. Corona made 
 an almost imperceptible inclination of her head, but did 
 not speak. 
 
 " Do you understand my position ? " he asked again. 
 He could not see her face, and for some seconds she made 
 no sign ; at last she moved her head again, but this time 
 to express a negative. 
 
 " It is simple enough, it seems to me," said Giovanni, 
 bending his brows. 
 
 Corona found that by turning a little she could still 
 look at the stage, and at the same time speak to the man 
 behind her. 
 
 " How can I judge ? " she said. " You have not told 
 me all. Why do you ask me to judge whether you are 
 right ? " 
 
 " I could not do it if you thought me wrong," he an 
 swered shortly. 
 
 The Duchessa suddenly thought of that other woman 
 
106 SAKACINESCA. 
 
 for whom the man who asked her advice was willing to 
 sacrifice his life. 
 
 " You attach an astonishing degree of importance to my 
 opinion," she said very coldly, and turned her head from 
 him. 
 
 " There is no one so well able to give an opinion," said 
 Giovanni, insisting. 
 
 Corona was offended. She interpreted the speech to 
 mean that since she had sacrificed her life to the old man 
 on the opposite side of the box, she was able to judge 
 whether Giovanni would do wisely in making a marriage 
 of convenience, for the sake of an end which even to her 
 mind seemed visionary. She turned quickly upon him, 
 and there was an angry gleam in her eyes. 
 
 "Pray do not introduce the subject of my life," she said 
 haughtily. 
 
 Giovanni was too much astonished to answer her at 
 once. He had indeed not intended the least reference to 
 her marriage. 
 
 " You have entirely misunderstood me," he said pres 
 ently. 
 
 " Then you must express yourself more clearly," she 
 replied. She would have felt very guilty to be thus talk 
 ing to Giovanni, as she would not have talked before her 
 husband, had she not felt that it was upon Giovanni's 
 business, and that the matter discussed in no way con 
 cerned herself. As for Saracinesca, he was in a dangerous 
 position, and was rapidly losing his self-control. He was 
 too near to her, his heart was beating too fast, the blood 
 was throbbing in his temples, and he was stung by being 
 misunderstood. 
 
 * "It is not possible for me to express myself more 
 clearly," he answered. " I am suffering for having told 
 you too little when I dare not tell you all. I make no 
 reference to your marriage when I speak to you of my 
 own. Forgive me ; I will not refer to the matter again." 
 
 Corona felt again that strange thrill, half of pain, half 
 of pleasure, and the lights of the theatre seemed moving 
 
SABACINESCA. 107 
 
 before her uncertainly, as things look when one falls from 
 a height. Almost unconsciously she spoke, hardly know 
 ing that she turned her head, and that her dark eyes 
 rested upon Giovanni's pale face. 
 
 " And yet there must be some reason why you tell me 
 that little, and why you do not tell me more." When she 
 had spoken, she would have given all the world to have 
 taken back her words. It was too late. Giovanni answered 
 in a low thick voice that sounded as though he were chok 
 ing, his face grew white, and his teeth seemed almost to 
 chatter as though he were cold, but his eyes shone like 
 black stars in the shadow of the box. 
 
 "There is every reason. You are the woman I love." 
 
 Corona did not move for several seconds, as though not 
 comprehending what he had said. Then she suddenly 
 shivered, and her eyelids drooped as she leaned back in 
 her chair. Her fingers relaxed their tight hold upon her 
 fan, and the thing fell rattling upon the floor of the box. 
 
 Old Astrardente, who had taken no notice of the pair, 
 being annoyed at Giovanni's visit, and much interested in 
 the proceedings of Madame Mayer in the box opposite, 
 heard the noise, and stooped with considerable alacrity 
 to pick up the fan which lay at his feet. 
 
 " You are not well, my love," he said quickly, as he 
 observed his wife's unusual pallor. 
 
 " It is nothing ; it will pass," she murmured, with a 
 terrible effort. Then, as though she had not said enough, 
 she added, " There must be a draught here ; I have a chill." 
 
 Giovanni had sat like a statue, utterly overcome by 
 the sense of his own folly and rashness, as well as by 
 the shock of having so miserably failed to keep the 
 secret he dreaded to reveal. On hearing Corona's voice, 
 he rose suddenly, as from a dream. 
 
 " Forgive me," he said hurriedly, " I have just remem 
 bered a most important engagement " 
 
 "Do not mention it," said Astrardente, sourly. Gio 
 vanni bowed to the Duchessa and left the box. She did 
 not look at him as he went away. 
 
108 SARACINESCA. 
 
 "We had better go home, my angel," said the old man. 
 "You have got a bad chill." 
 
 " Oh no, I would rather stay. It is nothing, and the 
 best part of the opera is to come." Corona spoke quietly 
 enough. Her strong nerves had already recovered from 
 the shock she had experienced, and she could command 
 her voice. She did not want to go home ; on the contrary, 
 the brilliant lights and the music served for a time to 
 soothe her. If there had been a ball that night she 
 would have gone to it; she would have done anything 
 that would take her thoughts from herself. Her husband 
 looked at her curiously. The suspicion crossed his mind 
 that Don Giovanni had said something which had either 
 frightened or offended her, but on second thoughts the 
 theory seemed absurd. He regarded Saracinesca as little 
 more than a mere acquaintance of his wife's. 
 
 "As you please, my love," he answered, drawing his 
 chair a little nearer to hers. " I am glad that fellow is 
 gone. We can talk at our ease now." 
 
 "Yes; I am glad he is gone. We can talk now," re 
 peated Corona, mechanically. 
 
 " I thought his excuse slightly conventional, to say the 
 least of it," remarked Astrardente. "An important 
 engagement ! just a little banal. However, any excuse 
 was good enough which' took him away." 
 
 "Did he say that?" asked Corona. "I did not hear. 
 Of course, any excuse would do, as you say." 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Giovanni left the theatre at once, alone, and on foot. 
 He was very much agitated. He had done suddenly and 
 unawares the thing of all others he had determined 
 never to do ; his resolutions had been broken down and 
 carried away as an ineffectual barrier is swept to the sea 
 
SARACINESCA. 109 
 
 by the floods of spring. His heart had spoken in spite 
 of him, and in speaking had silenced every prompting of 
 reason. He blamed himself bitterly, as he strode out 
 across the deserted bridge of Sant' Angelo and into the 
 broad gloom beyond, where the street widens from the 
 fortress to the entrance of the three Borghi : he walked 
 on and on, finding at every step fresh reason for self- 
 reproach, and trying to understand what he had done. 
 He paused at the end of the open piazza and looked down 
 towards the black rushing river which he could hear, 
 but hardly see; he turned into the silent Borgo Santo 
 Spirito, and passed along the endless wall of the great 
 hospital up to the colonnades, and still wandering on, he 
 came to the broad steps of St. Peter's and sat down, alone 
 in the darkness, at the foot of the stupendous pile. 
 
 He was perhaps not so much to blame as he was will 
 ing to allow in his just anger against himself. Corona 
 had tempted him sorely in that last question she had put 
 to him. She had not known, she had not even faintly 
 guessed what she was doing, for her own brain was intox 
 icated with a new and indescribable sensation which had 
 left no room for reflection nor for weighing the force of 
 words. But Giovanni, who had been willing to give up 
 everything, even to his personal liberty, for the sake of 
 concealing his love, would not allow himself any argu 
 ment in extenuation of what he had done. He had had 
 but very few affairs of the heart in his life, and they had 
 been for the most part very insignificant, and his experi 
 ence was limited. Even now it never entered his mind 
 to imagine that Corona would condone his offence ; he 
 felt sure that she was deeply wounded, and that his next 
 meeting with her would be a terrible ordeal so terrible, 
 indeed, that he doubted whether he had the courage to 
 meet her at all. His love was so great, and its object so 
 sacred to him, that he hesitated to conceive himself loved 
 in return; perhaps if he had been able to understand 
 that Corona loved him he would have left Kome for ever, 
 rather than trouble her peace by his presence. 
 
110 SARACINESCA. 
 
 It would have been absolutely different if he had been 
 paying court to Donna Tullia, for instance. The feeling 
 that he should be justified would have lent him courage, 
 and the coldness in his own heart would have left his 
 judgment free play. He could have watched her calmly, 
 and would have tried to take advantage of every mood in 
 the prosecution of his suit. He was a very honourable 
 man, but he did not consider marriages of propriety and 
 convenience as being at all contrary to the ordinary stand 
 ard of social honour, and would have thought himself jus 
 tified in using every means of persuasion in order to win 
 a woman whom, upon mature reflection, he had judged 
 suitable to become his wife, even though he felt no real 
 love for her. That is an idea inherent in most old 
 countries, an idea for which Giovanni Saracinesca was 
 certainly in no way responsible, seeing that it had been 
 instilled into him from his boyhood. Personally he would 
 have preferred to live and die unmarried, rather than to 
 take a wife as a matter of obligation towards his family ; 
 but seeing that he had never seriously loved any woman, 
 he had acquired the habit of contemplating such a mar 
 riage as a probability, perhaps as an ultimate necessity, to 
 be put off as long as possible, but to which he would at 
 last yield with a good grace. 
 
 But the current of his life had been turned. He was 
 certainly not a romantic character, not a man who desired 
 to experience the external sensations to be obtained by 
 voluntarily creating dramatic events. He loved action, 
 and he had a taste for danger, but he had sought both in 
 a legitimate way ; he never desired to implicate himself in 
 adventures where the feelings were concerned, and hith 
 erto such experiences had not fallen in his path. As is 
 usual with such men, when love came at last, it came with 
 a strength such as boys of twenty do not dream of. The 
 mature man of thirty years, with his strong and dominant 
 temper, his carelessness of danger, his high and untried 
 ideals of what a true affection should be, resisting the first 
 impressions of the master-passion with the indifference of 
 
SARACINESCA. Ill 
 
 one accustomed to believe that love could not come near 
 his life, and was in general a thing to be avoided a man, 
 moreover, who by his individual gifts and by his brilliant 
 position was able to command much that smaller men 
 would not dream of aspiring to, such a man, in short, as 
 Giovanni Saracinesca, was not likely to experience love- 
 sickness in a mild degree. Proud, despotic, and fiercely 
 unyielding by his inheritance of temper, he was out 
 wardly gentle and courteous by acquired habit, a man 
 of those whom women easily love and men very generally 
 fear. 
 
 He did not realise his own nature,, he did not suspect 
 the extremes of feeling of which he was eminently capable. 
 He had at first felt Corona's influence, and her face and 
 voice seemed to awaken in him a memory, which was as 
 yet but an anticipation, and not a real remembrance. It 
 was as the faint perfume of the spring wafted up to a 
 prisoner in some stern fortress, as the first gentle sweetness 
 that rose from the enchanted lakes of the cisalpine country 
 to the nostrils of the war-hardened Goths as they de 
 scended the last snow-slopes in their southern wandering 
 an anticipation that seemed already a memory, a looking 
 forward again to something that had been already loved in 
 a former state. Giovanni had laughed at himself for it 
 at first, then he had dreaded its growing charm, and at the 
 last he had fallen hopelessly under the spell, retaining only 
 enough of his former self to make him determined that the 
 harm which had come upon himself should not come near 
 this woman whom he so adored. 
 
 And behold, at the first provocation, the very first time 
 that by a careless word she had fired his blood and set his 
 brain throbbing, he had not only been unable to hide what 
 he felt, but had spoken such words as he would not have 
 believed he could speak so bluntly, so roughly, that she 
 had almost fainted before his very eyes. 
 
 She must have been very angry, he thought. Perhaps, 
 too, she was frightened. It was so rude, so utterly con 
 trary to all that was chivalrous to say thus at the first 
 
112 SARACIKESCA. 
 
 opportunity, " I love you " just that and nothing more. 
 Giovanni had never thought much about it, but he sup 
 posed that men in love, very seriously in love, must take 
 a long time to express themselves, as is the manner in 
 books ; whereas he was horrified at his own bluntness in 
 having blurted out rashly such words as could never be 
 taken back, as could never even be explained now, he 
 feared, because he had put himself beyond the pale of all 
 explanation, perhaps beyond the reach of forgiveness. 
 
 Nobody ever yet explained away the distinct statement 
 " I love you," upon any pretence of a mistake. Giovanni 
 almost laughed at the idea, and yet he conceived that 
 some kind of apology would be necessary, though he 
 could not imagine how he was to frame one. He re 
 flected that few women would consider a declaration, 
 even as sudden as his had been, in the light of an insult ; 
 but he knew how little cause Corona had given him for 
 speaking to her of love, and he judged from her manner 
 that she had been either offended or frightened, or both, 
 and that he was to blame for it. He was greatly dis 
 turbed, and the sweat stood in great drops upon his fore 
 head as he sat there upon the steps of St. Peter's in the 
 cold night wind. He remained nearly an hour without 
 changing his position, and then at last he rose and slowly 
 retraced his steps, and went home by narrow streets, 
 avoiding the theatre and the crowd of carriages that 
 stood before it. 
 
 He had almost determined to go away for a time, and 
 to let his absence speak for his contrition. But he had 
 reckoned upon his former self, and he doubted now 
 whether he had the strength to leave Home. The most 
 that seemed possible was that he should keep out of 
 Corona's way for a few days, until she should have 
 recovered from the shock of the scene in the theatre. 
 After that he would go to her and tell her quite simply 
 that he was very sorry, but that he had been unable to 
 control himself. It would soon be over. She would not 
 refuse to speak to him, he argued, for fear of attracting 
 
SARACINESCA. 113 
 
 the attention of the gossips and making an open scandal. 
 She would perhaps tell him to avoid her, and her words 
 would be few and haughty, but she would speak to him, 
 nevertheless. 
 
 Giovanni went to bed. The next day he gave out that 
 he had a touch of fever, and remained in his own apart 
 ments. His father, who was passionately attached to 
 him, in spite of his rough temper and hasty speeches, 
 came and spent most of the day with him, and in the 
 intervals of his kindly talk, marched up and down the 
 room, swearing that Giovanni was no more ill than he 
 was himself, and that he had acquired his accursed habit 
 of staying in bed upon his travels. As Giovanni had 
 never before been known to spend twenty-four hours in 
 bed for any reason whatsoever, the accusation was un 
 just; but he only smiled and pretended to argue the 
 case for the sake of pleasing the old prince. He really 
 felt exceedingly uncomfortable, and would have been 
 glad to be left alone at any price ; but there was nothing 
 for it but to pretend to be ill in body, when he was really 
 sick at heart, and he remained obstinately in bed the 
 whole day. On the following morning he declared his 
 intention of going out of town, and by an early train he 
 left the city. No one saw Giovanni again until the 
 evening of the Frangipani ball. 
 
 Meanwhile it would have surprised him greatly to know 
 that Corona looked for him in vain wherever she went, 
 and that, not seeing him, she grew silent and pale, and 
 gave short answers to the pleasant speeches men made 
 her. Every one missed Giovanni. He wrote to Valdarno 
 to say that he had been suddenly obliged to visit Sara- 
 cinesca in order to see to some details connected with the 
 timber question ; but everybody wondered why he should 
 have taken himself away in the height of the season for 
 so trivial a matter. He had last been seen in the Astrar- 
 dente box at the opera, where he had only stayed a few 
 minutes, as Del Ferice was able to testify, having sat 
 immediately opposite in the box of Madame Mayer. Del 
 
114 SABACINESCA. 
 
 Ferice swore secretly that he would find out what was 
 the matter ; and Donna Tullia abused Giovanni in un 
 measured terms to a circle of intimate friends and admir 
 ers, because he had been engaged to dance with her at the 
 Valdarno cotillon, and had not even sent word that he 
 could not come. Thereupon all the men present imme 
 diately offered themselves for the vacant dance, and 
 Donna Tullia made them draw lots by tossing a copper 
 sou in the corner of the ball-room. The man who won 
 the toss recklessly threw over the partner he had al 
 ready engaged, and almost had to fight a duel in conse 
 quence ; all of which was intensely amusing to Donna 
 Tullia. Nevertheless, in her heart, she was very angry 
 at Giovanni's departure. 
 
 But Corona sought him everywhere, and at last heard 
 that he had left town, two days after everybody else in 
 Rome had known it. She would probably have been very 
 much disturbed, if she had actually met him within a day 
 or two of that fatal evening, but the desire to see him was 
 so great, that she entirely overlooked the consequences. 
 For the time being, her whole life seemed to have under 
 gone a revolution she trembled at the echo of the words 
 she had heard she spent long hours in solitude, praying 
 with all her strength that she might be forgiven for having 
 heard him speak ; but the moment she left her room, and 
 went out into the world, the dominant desire to see him 
 again returned. The secret longing of her soul was to 
 hear him speak again as he had spoken once. She would 
 have gone again to Padre Filippo and told him all ; but 
 when she was alone in the solitude of her passionate pray 
 ers and self-accusation, she felt that sue must fight this 
 fight alone, without help of any one ; and when she was 
 in the world, she lacked courage to put altogether from her 
 what was so very sweet, and her eyes searched unceasingly 
 for the dark face she loved. But the stirring strength of 
 the mighty passion played upon her soul and body in spite 
 of her, as upon an instrument of strings ; and sometimes 
 the music was gentle and full of sweet harmony, but often 
 
SARACINESCA. 115 
 
 there were crashes of discord, so that she trembled and felt 
 her heart wrung as by torture ; then she set her strong 
 lips, and her white fingers wound themselves together, and 
 she could have cried aloud, but that her pride forbade her. 
 
 The days came and went, but Giovanni did not return, 
 and Corona's face grew every morning more pale and her 
 eyes every night more wistful. Her husband did not un 
 derstand, but he saw that something was the matter, as 
 others saw it, and in his quick suspicious humour he con 
 nected the trouble in his wife's face with the absence of 
 Giovanni and with the strange chill she had felt in the 
 theatre. But Corona d'Astrardente was a very brave and 
 strong woman, and she bore what seemed to her like the 
 agony of death renewed each day, so calmly that those 
 who knew her thought it was but a passing indisposition 
 or annoyance, unusual with her, who was never ill nor 
 troubled, but yet insignificant. She gave particular atten 
 tion to the gown which her husband had desired she 
 should wear at the great ball, and the need she felt for 
 distracting her mind from her chief care made society 
 necessary to her. 
 
 The evening of the Frangipani ball came, and all Eome 
 was in a state of excitement and expectation. The great 
 old family had been in mourning for years, owing to three 
 successive deaths, and during all that time the ancient 
 stronghold which was called their palace had been closed 
 to the world. For some time, indeed, no one of the name 
 had been in Eome the prince and princess preferring to 
 pass the time of mourning in the country and in travel 
 ling ; while the eldest son, now just of age, was finishing 
 his academic career at an English University. But this 
 year the family had returned : there had been both dinners 
 and receptions at the palace, and the ball, which was to be 
 a sort of festival in honour of the coming of age of the 
 heir, was expected as the principal event of the year. It 
 was rumoured that there would be nearly thirty rooms 
 opened besides the great hall, which was set aside for danc 
 ing, and that the arrangements were on a scale worthy of 
 
lib" SAEACINESCA. 
 
 a household which, had endured in its high position for up 
 wards of a thousand years. It was understood that no 
 distinction had been made, in issuing the invitations, be 
 tween parties in politics or in society, and that there 
 would be more people seen there than had been collected 
 under one roof for many years. 
 
 The Frangipani did things magnificently, and no one 
 was disappointed. The gardens and courts of the palace 
 were brilliantly illuminated ; vast suites of apartments 
 were thrown open, and lavishly decorated with rare 
 flowers ; the grand staircase was lined with footmen in 
 the liveries of the house, standing motionless as the guests 
 passed up ; the supper was a banquet such as is read of in 
 the chronicles of medieval splendour ; the enormous con 
 servatory in the distant south wing was softly lit by 
 shaded candles concealed among the tropical plants ; and 
 the ceilings and walls of the great hall itself had been 
 newly decorated by famous painters ; while the polished 
 wooden floor presented an innovation upon the old- 
 fashioned canvas-covered brick pavement, not hitherto 
 seen in any Roman palace. A thousand candles, disposed 
 in every variety of chandelier and candelabra, shed a soft 
 rich light from far above, and high in the gallery at one end 
 an orchestra of Viennese musicians played unceasingly. 
 
 As generally happens at very large balls, the dancing 
 began late, but numbers of persons had come early in 
 order to survey the wonders of the palace at their leisure. 
 Among those who arrived soon after ten o'clock was 
 Giovanni Saracinesca, who was greeted loudly by all who 
 knew him. He looked pale and tired, if his tough nature 
 could ever be said to seem weary ; but he was in an un 
 usually affable mood, and exchanged words with every 
 one he met. Indeed he had been sad for so many days 
 that he hardly understood why he felt gay, unless it was 
 in the anticipation of once more seeing the woman he 
 loved. He wandered through the rooms carelessly enough, 
 but he was in reality devoured by impatience, and his 
 quick eyes sought Corona's tall figure in every direction. 
 
SABACINESCA. 117 
 
 But she was not yet there, and Giovanni at last came 
 and took his station in one of the outer halls, waiting 
 patiently for her arrival. 
 
 While he waited, leaning against one of the marble 
 pillars of the door, the throng increased rapidly ; but he 
 hardly noticed the swelling crowd, until suddenly there 
 was a lull in the unceasing talk, and the men and women 
 parted to allow a cardinal to pass out from the inner rooms. 
 With many gracious nods and winning looks, the great 
 man moved on, his keen eyes embracing every one and 
 everything within the range of his vision, his courteous 
 smile seeming intended for each separate individual, and 
 yet overlooking none, nor resting long on any, his high 
 brow serene and unbent, his flowing robes falling back 
 from his courtly figure, as with his red hat in his hand 
 he bowed his way through the bowing crowd. His de 
 parture, which was quickly followed by that of several 
 other cardinals and prelates, was the signal that the 
 dancing would soon begin ; and when he had passed out, 
 the throng of men and women pressed more quickly in 
 through the door on their way to the ball-room. 
 
 But as the great cardinal's eye rested on Giovanni 
 Saracinesca, accompanied by that invariable smile that so 
 many can remember well to this day, his delicate hand 
 made a gesture as though beckoning to the young man 
 to follow him. Giovanni obeyed the summons, and be 
 came for the moment the most notable man in the room. 
 The two passed out together, and a moment later were 
 standing in the outer hall. Already the torch-bearers were 
 standing without upon the grand staircase, and the lackeys 
 were mustering in long files to salute the Prime Minister. 
 Just then the master of the house came running breathless 
 from within. He had not seen that Cardinal Antonelli 
 was taking his leave, and hastened to overtake him, lest 
 any breach of etiquette on his part should attract the 
 displeasure of the statesman. 
 
 " Your Eminence's pardon ! " he exclaimed, hurriedly. 
 " I had not seen that your Eminence was leaving us so 
 early too the Princess feared " 
 
 Vol. 106 
 
118 SARACINESCA. 
 
 "Do not speak of it,' r answered the Cardinal, in suave 
 tones. " I am not so strong as I used to be. We old 
 fellows must to bed betimes, and leave you young ones to 
 enjoy yourselves. No excuses good night a beautiful 
 ball I congratulate you on the reopening of your house 
 good night again. I will have a word with Giovanni 
 here before I go down-stairs." 
 
 He extended his hand to Frangipani, who lifted it re 
 spectfully to his lips and withdrew, seeing that he was not 
 wanted. He and many others speculated long upon the 
 business which engaged his Eminence in close conversation 
 with Giovanni Saracinesca, keeping him for more than a 
 quarter of an hour in the cold ante-chamber, where the 
 night wind blew in unhindered from the vast staircase of 
 the palace. As a matter of fact, Giovanni was as much 
 surprised as any one. 
 
 " Where have you been, my friend ? " inquired the Car 
 dinal, when they were alone. 
 
 "To Saracinesca, your Eminence." 
 
 " And what have you been doing in Saracinesca at this 
 time of year ? I hope you are attending to the woods 
 there you have not been cutting timber ? " 
 
 " No one can be more anxious than we to see the woods 
 grow thick upon our hills," replied Giovanni. "Your 
 Eminence need have no fear." 
 
 "Not for your estates," said the great Cardinal, his small 
 keen black eyes resting searchingly on Giovanni's face. 
 " But I confess I have some fears for yourself." 
 
 " For me, Eminence ? " repeated Giovanni, in some as 
 tonishment. 
 
 " For you. I have heard with considerable anxiety that 
 there is a question of marrying you to Madame Mayer. 
 Such a match would not meet with the Holy Father's ap 
 proval, nor if I may be permitted to mention my humble 
 self in the same breath with our august sovereign would 
 it be wise in my own estimation." 
 
 "Permit me to remark to your Eminence," answered 
 Giovanni, proudly, " that in my house we have never been 
 
SABACINESCA. 119 
 
 in the habit of asking advice upon such subjects. Donna 
 Tullia is a good Catholic. There can therefore be no valid 
 objection to my asking her hand, if my father and I agree 
 that it is best." 
 
 " You are terrible fellows, you Saracinesca," returned 
 the Cardinal, blandly. " I have read your family history 
 with immense interest, and what you say is quite true. I 
 cannot find an instance on record of your taking the ad 
 vice of any one certainly not of the Holy Church. It is 
 with the utmost circumspection that I venture to approach 
 the subject with you, and I am sure that you will believe 
 me when I say that my words are not dictated by any 
 officious or meddling spirit ; I am addressing you by the 
 direct desire of the Holy Father himself." 
 
 A soft answer turneth away wrath, and if the all-pow 
 erful statesman's answer to Giovanni seems to have been 
 more soft than might have been expected, it must be re 
 membered that he was speaking to the heir of one of the 
 most powerful houses in the Roman State, at a time when 
 the personal friendship of such men as the Saracinesca was 
 of vastly greater importance than it is now. At that time 
 some twenty noblemen owned a great part of the Pontifical 
 States, and the influence they could exert upon their ten 
 antry was very great, for the feudal system was not ex 
 tinct, nor the feudal spirit. Moreover, though Cardinal 
 Antonelli was far from popular with any party, Pius IX. 
 was respected and beloved by a vast majority of the gen 
 tlemen as well as of the people. Giovanni's first impulse 
 was to resist any interference whatsoever in his affairs ; 
 but on receiving the Cardinal's mild answer to his own 
 somewhat arrogant assertion of independence, he bowed 
 politely and professed himself willing to listen to 
 reason. 
 
 " But," he said, " since his Holiness has mentioned the 
 matter, I beg that your Eminence will inform him that, 
 though the question of my marriage seems to be in every 
 body's mouth, it is as yet merely a project in which no 
 active steps have been taken." 
 
120 SABACINESCA. 
 
 " I am glad of it, Giovanni," replied the Cardinal, f a* 
 miliarly taking his arm, and beginning to pace the hall*, 
 " I am glad of it. There are reasons why the match ap 
 pears to be unworthy of you. If you will permit me, 
 without any offence to Madame Mayer, I will tell you 
 what those reasons are." 
 
 "I am at your service," said Giovanni, gravely, "pro 
 vided only there is no offence to Donna Tullia." 
 
 "None whatever. The reasons are purely political. 
 Madame Mayer or Donna Tullia, since you prefer to call 
 her so is the centre of a sort of club of so-called Liberals, 
 of whom the most active and the most foolish member is 
 a certain Ugo del Ferice, a fellow who calls himself a 
 count, but whose grandfather was a coachman in the Vati 
 can under Leo XII. He will get himself into trouble 
 some day. He is always in attendance upon Donna 
 Tullia, and probably led her into this band of foolish 
 young people for objects of his own. It is a very silly 
 society ; I daresay you have heard some of their talk ? " 
 
 "Very little," replied Giovanni; "I do not trouble 
 myself about politics. I did not even know that there 
 was such a club as your Eminence speaks of." 
 
 Cardinal Antonelli glanced sharply at his companion as 
 he proceeded. 
 
 " They affect solidarity and secrecy, these young peo 
 ple," he said, with a sneer, " and their solidarity betrays 
 their secrecy, because it is unfortunately true in our dear 
 Borne that wherever two or three are gathered together 
 they are engaged in some mischief. But they may gather 
 in peace at the studio of Monsieur Gouache, or anywhere 
 else they please, for all I care. Gouache is a clever fel 
 low ; he is to paint my portrait. Do you know him ? 
 But, to return to my sheep in wolves' clothing my amus 
 ing little conspirators. They can do no harm, for they 
 know not even what they say, and their words are not 
 followed by any kind of action whatsoever. But the 
 principle of the thing is bad, Giovanni. Your brave old 
 ancestors used to fight us Churchmen outright, and unless 
 
SABACINESCA. 121 
 
 the Lord is especially merciful, their souls are in an evil 
 case, for the devil knoweth his own, and is a particularly 
 bad paymaster. But they fought outright, like gentle 
 men ; whereas these people foderunt foveam ut caperent 
 me they have digged a ditch, but they will certainly 
 not catch me, nor any one else. Their conciliabules, as 
 Eousseau would have called them, meet daily and talk 
 great nonsense and do nothing; which does not prove 
 their principles to be good, while it demonstrates their 
 intellect to be contemptible. No offence to the Signer 
 Coiite del Ferice, but I think ignorance has marked his 
 little party for its own, and inanity waits on all his coun 
 cils. If they believe in half the absurdities they utter, 
 why do they not pack up their goods and chattels and 
 cross the frontier ? If they meant anything, they would 
 do something." 
 
 "Evidently," replied Giovanni, half amused at his 
 Eminence's tirade. 
 
 " Evidently. Therefore they mean nothing. Therefore 
 our good friend Donna Tullia is dabbling in the emptiness 
 of political dilettanteism for the satisfaction of a hollow 
 vanity ; no offence to her it is the manner of her kind." 
 
 Giovanni was silent. 
 
 "Believe me, prince," said the Cardinal, suddenly 
 changing his tone and speaking very seriously, " there is 
 something better for strong men like you and me to do, 
 in these times, than to dabble in conspiracy and to toss 
 off glasses of champagne to Italian unity and Victor 
 Emmanuel. The condition of our lives is battle, and bat 
 tle against terrible odds. Neither you nor I should be 
 content to waste our strength in fighting shadows, in 
 waging war on petty troubles of our own raising, know 
 ing all the while that the powers of evil are marshalled 
 in a deadly array against the powers of good. Sed non 
 prcevalebunt ! " 
 
 The Cardinal's thin face assumed a strange look of 
 determination, and his delicate fingers grasped Giovanni's 
 arm with a force that startled him. 
 
122 SARACINESCA. 
 
 " You speak bravely," answered the young man. " You 
 are more sanguine than we men of the world. You 
 believe that disaster impossible which to me seems grow 
 ing daily more imminent." 
 
 Cardinal Antonelli turned his gleaming black eyes full 
 on his companion. 
 
 " O generatio incredula ! If you have not faith, you have 
 not courage, and if you have not courage you will waste 
 your life in the pursuit of emptiness ! It is for men like 
 you, for men of ancient race, of broad acres, of iron body 
 and healthy mind, to put your hand to the good work and 
 help us who have struggled for many years and whose 
 strength is already failing. Every action of your life, 
 every thought of your waking hours, should be for the 
 good end, lest we all perish together and expiate our luke 
 warm indifference. Timidi nunquam statuerunt tropceum 
 if we would divide the spoil we must gird on the sword 
 and use it boldly ; we must not allow the possibility of 
 failure ; we must be vigilant ; we must be united as one 
 man. You tell me that you men of the world already 
 regard a disaster as imminent to expect defeat is nine- 
 tenths of a defeat itself. Ah, if we could count upon 
 such men as you to the very death, our case would be far 
 from desperate." > 
 
 " For the matter of that, your Eminence can count upon 
 us well enough," replied Giovanni, quietly. 
 
 " Upon you, Giovanni yes, for you are a brave gentle 
 man. But upon your friends, even upon your class no. 
 Can I count upon the Valdarno, even ? You know as well 
 as I that they are in sympathy with the Liberals that 
 they have neither the courage to support us nor the au 
 dacity to renounce us ; and, what is worse, they represent 
 a large class, of whom, I regret to say, Donna Tullia 
 Mayer is one of the most prominent members. With her 
 wealth, her youth, her effervescent spirits, and her early 
 widowhood, she leads men after her; they talk, they 
 chatter, they set up an opinion and gloat over it, while 
 they lack the spirit to support it. They are all alike 
 
SARACINESCA. 123 
 
 non tantum ovum ovo simile one egg is not more like 
 another than they are. Non tali auxilio we want no 
 such help. We ask for bread, not for stones ; we want 
 men, not empty-headed dandies. We have both at 
 present ; but if the Emperor fails us, we shall have too 
 many dandies and too few men too few men like you, 
 Don Giovanni. Instead of armed battalions we shall 
 have polite societies for mutual assurance against political 
 risks, instead of the support of the greatest military 
 power in Europe, we shall have to rely on a parcel of 
 young gentlemen whose opinions are guided by Donna 
 Tullia Mayer." 
 
 Giovanni laughed and glanced at his Eminence, who 
 chose to refer all the imminent disasters of the State to 
 the lady whom he did not wish to see married to his com 
 panion. 
 
 " Is her influence really so great ? " asked Saracinesca, 
 incredulously. 
 
 " She is agreeable, she is pretty, she is rich her influ 
 ence is a type of the whole influence which is abroad in 
 Rome a reflection of the life of Paris. There, at least, 
 the women play a real part very often a great one : here, 
 when they have got command of a drawing-room full of 
 fops, they do not know where to lead them ; they change 
 their minds twenty times a-day ; they have an access of 
 religious enthusiasm in Advent, followed by an attack of 
 Liberal fever in Carnival, and their season is brought to 
 a fitting termination by the prostration which overtakes 
 them in Lent. By that time all their principles are upset, 
 and they go to Paris for the month of May -pour se re- 
 tremper dans les id&es idalistes, as they express it. Do 
 you think one could construct a party out of such elements, 
 especially when you reflect that this mass of uncertainty 
 is certain always to yield to the ultimate consideration of 
 self-interest ? Half of them keep an Italian flag with the 
 Papal one, ready to thrust either of them out of the win 
 dow as occasion may require. Good night, Giovanni. I 
 have talked enough, and all Kome will set upon you to 
 
124 SABACINESCA. 
 
 find out what secrets of State I have been confiding. You 
 had better prepare an answer, for you can hardly inform 
 Donna Tullia and her set that I have been calling them 
 a parcel of weak and ill-advised people. They might 
 take offence they might even call me by bad names, 
 fancy how very terribly that would afflict me ! Good 
 night, Giovanni my greetings to your father." 
 
 The Cardinal nodded, but did not offer his hand. He 
 knew that Giovanni hated to kiss his ring, and he had too 
 much tact to press the ceremonial etiquette upon any one 
 whom he desired to influence. But he nodded graciously, 
 and receiving his cloak from the gentleman who accom 
 panied him and who had waited at a respectful distance, 
 the statesman passed out of the great doorway, where the 
 double line of torch-bearers stood ready to accompany 
 him down the grand staircase to his carriage, in accord 
 ance with the custom of those days. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 When he was alone, Giovanni retraced his steps, and 
 again took up his position near the entrance to the recep 
 tion-rooms. He had matter for reflection in the inter 
 view which had just ended ; and, having nothing better 
 to do while he waited for Corona, he thought about what 
 had happened. He was not altogether pleased at the 
 interest his marriage excited in high quarters ; he hated 
 interference, and he regarded Cardinal Antonelli's advice 
 in such a matter as an interference of the most unwar 
 rantable kind. Neither he himself nor his father were 
 men who sought counsel from without, for independence 
 in action was with them a family tradition, as independ 
 ence of thought was in their race a hereditary quality. 
 To think that if he, Giovanni Saracinesca, chose to marry 
 any woman whatsoever, any one, no matter how exalted 
 
SARACINESCA. 125 
 
 in station, should dare to express approval or disapproval 
 was a shock to every inborn and cultivated prejudice in 
 his nature. He had nearly quarrelled with his own 
 father for seeking to influence his matrimonial projects ; 
 it was not likely that he would suffer Cardinal Antonelli 
 to interfere with them. If Giovanni had really made up 
 his mind had firmly determined to ask the hand of 
 Donna Tullia it is more than probable that the states 
 man's advice would not only have failed signally in 
 preventing the match, but by the very opposition it 
 would have aroused in Giovanni's heart it would have 
 had the effect of throwing him into the arms of a party 
 which already desired his adhesion, and which, under his 
 guidance, might have become as formidable as it was 
 previously insignificant. But the great Cardinal was 
 probably well informed, and his words had not fallen 
 upon a barren soil. Giovanni had vacillated sadly in 
 trying to come to a decision. His first Quixotic impulse 
 to marry Madame Mayer, in order to show the world that 
 he cared nothing for Corona d'Astrardente, had proved 
 itself absurd, even to his impetuous intelligence. The 
 growing antipathy he felt for Donna Tullia had made his 
 marriage with her appear in the light of a disagreeable 
 duty, and his rashness in confessing his love for Corona 
 had so disturbed his previous conceptions that marriage 
 no longer seemed a duty at all. What had been but a 
 few days before almost a fixed resolution, had dwindled 
 till it seemed an impracticable and even a useless scheme. 
 When he had arrived at the Palazzo Frangipani that 
 evening, he had very nearly forgotten Donna Tullia, and 
 had quite determined that whatever his father might say 
 he would not give the promised answer before Easter. 
 By the time the Cardinal had left him, he had decided 
 that no power on earth should induce him to marry 
 Madame Mayer. He did not take the trouble of saying 
 to himself that he would marry no one else. 
 
 The Cardinal's words had struck deep, in a deep nature. 
 Giovanni had given Del Ferice a very fair exposition of 
 
126 SABACINESCA. 
 
 the views lie believed himself to hold, on the day when 
 they had walked together after Donna Tullia's picnic. 
 He believed himself a practical man, loyal to the tem 
 poral power by principle rather than by any sort of 
 enthusiastic devotion ; not desirous of any great change, 
 because any change that might reasonably be expected 
 would be bad for his own vested interests; not preju 
 diced for any policy save that of peace preferring, 
 indeed, with Cicero, the most unjust peace to the most 
 just war ; tenacious of old customs, and not particularly 
 inquisitive concerning ideas of progress, on the whole, 
 Giovanni thought himself what his father had been in 
 his youth, and more or less what he hoped his sons, if he 
 ever had any, would be after him. 
 
 But there was more in him than all this, and at the 
 first distant sound of battle he felt the spirit stir within 
 him, for his real nature was brave and loyal, unselfish and 
 devoted, instinctively sympathizing with the weak and 
 hating the lukewarm. He had told Del Ferice that he 
 believed he would fight as a matter of principle : as he 
 leaned against the marble pillar of the door in the Palazzo 
 Frangipani, he wished the fight had already begun. 
 
 Waiting there, and staring into the moving crowd, he 
 was aware of a young man with pale and delicate features 
 and black hair, who stood quietly by his side, and seemed 
 like himself an idle though not uninterested spectator of 
 the scene. Giovanni glanced once at the young fellow, 
 and thought he recognised him, and glancing again, he met 
 his earnest look, and saw that it was Anastase Gouache, 
 the painter. Giovanni knew him slightly, for Gouache 
 was regarded as a rising celebrity, and, thanks to Donna 
 Tullia, was invited to most of the great receptions and 
 balls of that season, though he was not yet anywhere on 
 a footing of intimacy. Gouache was proud, and would 
 perhaps have stood aloof altogether rather than be treated 
 as one of the herd who are asked " with everybody," as 
 the phrase goes ; but he was of an observing turn of mind, 
 and it amused him immensely to stand unnoticed, follow- 
 
SARACINESCA. 127 
 
 ing the movements of society's planets, comets, and satel 
 lites, and studying the many types of the cosmopolitan 
 Eoman world. 
 
 " Good evening, Monsieur Gouache," said Giovanni. 
 
 "Good evening, prince," replied the artist, with a 
 somewhat formal bow after which both men relapsed 
 into silence, and continued to watch the crowd. 
 
 " And what do you think of our Kornan world ? " 
 asked Giovanni, presently. 
 
 " I cannot compare it to any other world," answered 
 Gouache, simply. "I never went into society till I came 
 to Kome. I think it is at once brilliant and sedate it 
 has a magnificent air of historical antiquity, and it is a 
 little paradoxical." 
 
 " Where is the paradox ? " inquired Giovanni. 
 
 " ' Es-tu libre ? Les lois sont-elles respectfies ? 
 Crains-tu de voir ton champ pi!16 par le voisin ? 
 Le maitre a-t-il son toit, et Pouvrier son pain ? ' " 
 
 A smile flickered over the young artist's face as he 
 quoted Musset's lines in answer to Giovanni's question. 
 Giovanni himself laughed, and looked at Anastase with 
 somewhat increased interest. 
 
 " Do you mean that we are revelling under the sword 
 of Damocles dancing on the eve of our execution ? " 
 
 " Not precisely. A delicate flavour of uncertainty about 
 to-morrow gives zest to the appetite of to-day. It is im 
 possible that such a large society should be wholly uncon 
 scious of its own imminent danger and yet these men 
 and women go about to-night as if they were Romans of 
 old, rulers of the world, only less sure of themselves than 
 of the stability of their empire." 
 
 "Why not?" asked Giovanni, glancing curiously at the 
 pale young man beside him. " In answer to your quota 
 tion, I can say that I am as free as I care to be ; that the 
 laws are sufficiently respected ; that no one has hitherto 
 thought it worth while to plunder my acres ; that I have 
 a modest roof of my ownj and that, as far as I am aware, 
 
128 SARACINESCA. 
 
 there are no workmen starving in the streets at present. 
 You are answered, it seems to me, Monsieur Gouache." 
 
 " Is that really your belief ? " asked the artist, quietly. 
 
 " Yes. As for my freedom, I am as free as air ; no one 
 thinks of hindering my movements. As for the laws, they 
 are made for good citizens, and good citizens will respect 
 them; if bad citizens do not, that is their loss. My acres 
 are safe, possibly because they are not worth taking, 
 though they yield me a modest competence sufficient for 
 my needs and for the needs of those who cultivate them 
 for me." 
 
 " And yet there is a great deal of talk in Rome about 
 misery and injustice and oppression " 
 
 "There will be a great deal more talk about those evils, 
 with much better cause, if people who think like you suc 
 ceed in bringing about a revolution, Monsieur Gouache," 
 answered Giovanni, coldly. 
 
 " If many people think like you, prince, a revolution 
 is not to be thought of. As for me I am a foreigner and 
 I see what I can, and listen to what I hear." 
 
 " A revolution is not to be thought of. It was tried 
 here and failed. If we are overcome by a great power 
 from without, we shall have no choice but to yield, if 
 any of us survive for we would fight. But we have 
 nothing to fear from within." 
 
 " Perhaps not," returned Gouache, thoughtfully. " I 
 hear such opposite opinions that I hardly know what to 
 think." 
 
 " I hear that you are to paint Cardinal Antonelli's por 
 trait," said Giovanni. "Perhaps his Eminence will help 
 you to decide." 
 
 " Yes ; they say he is the cleverest man in Europe." 
 
 "In that opinion they whoever they may be are 
 mistaken," replied Giovanni. " But he is a man of im 
 mense intellect, nevertheless." 
 
 " I am not sure whether I will paint his portrait after 
 all," said Gouache. 
 
 " You do not wish to be persuaded ? " 
 
SAEACINESCA. 129 
 
 " No. My own ideas please me very well for the pres 
 ent. I would not exchange them for those of any one else." 
 
 " May I ask what those ideas are ? " inquired Giovanni, 
 with a show of interest. 
 
 "I am a republican," answered Gouache, quietly. " I 
 am also a good Catholic." 
 
 " Then you are yourself much more paradoxical than 
 the whole of our Roman society put together/' answered 
 Giovanni, with a dry laugh. 
 
 "Perhaps. There comes the most beautiful woman in 
 the world." 
 
 It was nearly twelve o'clock when Corona arrived, old 
 Astrardente sauntering jauntily by her side, his face ar 
 ranged with more than usual care, and his glossy wig 
 curled cunningly to represent nature. He was said to 
 possess a number of wigs of different lengths, which he 
 wore in rotation, thus sustaining the impression that his 
 hair was cut from time to time. In his eye a single eye 
 glass was adjusted, and as he walked he swung his hat 
 delicately in his tightly gloved fingers. He wore the 
 plainest of collars and the simplest of gold studs j no chain 
 dangled showily from his waistcoat-pocket, and his small 
 feet were encased in little patent-leather shoes. But for 
 his painted face, he might have passed for the very incar 
 nation of fashionable simplicity. But his face betrayed 
 him. 
 
 As for Corona, she was dazzlingly beautiful. Not that 
 any colour or material she wore could greatly enhance her 
 beauty, for all who saw her on that memorable night re 
 membered the wonderful light in her face, and the strange 
 look in her splendid eyes ; but the thick soft fall of the 
 white velvet made as it were a pedestal for her loveliness, 
 and the Astrardente jewels that clasped her waist and 
 throat and crowned her black hair, collected the radiance 
 of the many candles, and made the light cling to her and 
 follow her as she walked. Giovanni saw her enter, and 
 his whole adoration came upon him as a madness upon a 
 sick man in a fever, so that he would have sprung forward 
 
130 SAKACINESCA. 
 
 to meet her, and fallen at her feet and worshipped her, 
 had he not suddenly felt that he was watched by more 
 than one of the many who paused to see her go by. He 
 moved from his place and waited near the door where she 
 would have to pass, and for a moment his heart stood still. 
 
 He hardly knew how it was. He found himself speak 
 ing to her. He asked her for a dance, he asked boldly for 
 the cotillon he never knew how he had dared ; she as 
 sented, let her eyes rest upon him for one moment with an 
 indescribable expression, then grew very calm and cold, 
 and passed on. 
 
 It was all over in an instant. Giovanni moved back 
 to his place as she went by, and stood still like a man 
 stunned. It was well that there were yet nearly two 
 hours before the preliminary dancing would be over ; he 
 needed some time to collect himself. The air seemed full 
 of strange voices, and he watched the moving faces as in 
 a dream, unable to concentrate his attention upon any 
 thing he saw. 
 
 " He looks as though he had a stroke of paralysis," said 
 a woman's voice near him. It did not strike him, in his 
 strange bewilderment, that it was Donna Tullia who had 
 spoken, still less that she was speaking of him almost to 
 him. 
 
 " Something very like it, I should say," answered Del 
 Ferice's oily voice. " He has probably been ill since you 
 saw him. Saracinesca is an unhealthy place." 
 
 Giovanni turned, sharply round. 
 
 " Yes ; we were speaking of you, Don Giovanni," said 
 Donna Tullia, with some scorn. " Does it strike you that 
 you were exceedingly rude in not letting me know that 
 you were going out of town when you had promised to 
 dance with me at the Valdarno ball ? " She curled her 
 small lip and showed her sharp white teeth. Giovanni 
 was a man of the world, however, and was equal to the 
 occasion. 
 
 " I apologise most humbly," he said. " It was indeed 
 very rude ; but in the urgency of the case, I forgot all 
 
SARACINESCA. 131 
 
 other engagements. I really beg your pardon. Will you 
 honour me with a dance this evening ? " 
 
 "I have every dance engaged," answered Madame 
 Mayer, coldly staring at him. 
 
 " I am very sorry/ 7 said Giovanni, inwardly thanking 
 heaven for his good fortune, and wishing she would go 
 away. 
 
 " Wait a moment," said Donna Tullia, judging that she 
 had produced the desired effect upon him. " Let me look. 
 I believe I have one waltz left. Let me see. Yes, the 
 one before the last you can have it if you like." 
 
 " Thank you," murmured Giovanni, greatly annoyed. 
 " I will remember." 
 
 Madame Mayer laid her hand upon Del Ferice's arm, 
 and moved away. She was a vain woman, and being in 
 love with Saracinesca after her own fashion, could not 
 understand that he should be wholly indifferent to her. 
 She thought that in telling him she had no dances she had 
 given him a little wholesome punishment, and that in giv 
 ing one after all she had conferred a favour upon him. 
 She also believed that she had annoyed Del Ferice, which 
 always amused her. But Del Ferice was more than a 
 match for her, with his quiet ways and smooth tongue. 
 
 They went into the ball-room together and danced a few 
 minutes. When the music ceased, Ugo excused himself 
 on the plea that he was engaged for the quadrille that 
 followed. He at once set out in search of the Duchessa 
 d'Astrardente, and did not lose sight of her again. She 
 did not dance before the cotillon, she said ; and she sat 
 down in a high chair in the picture-gallery, while three or 
 four men, among whom was Valdarno, sat and stood near 
 her, doing their best to amuse her. Others came, and some 
 went away, but Corona did not move, and sat amongst 
 her little court, glad to have the time pass in any way 
 until the cotillon. When Del Ferice had ascertained her 
 position, he went about his business, which was mani 
 fold dancing frequently, and making a point of speaking 
 to every one in the room. At the end of an hour, he 
 
132 SAKACINESCA. 
 
 joined the group of men around the Duchessa and took 
 part in the conversation. 
 
 It was an easy matter to make the talk turn upon 
 Giovanni Saracinesca. Every one was more or less curious 
 about the journey he had made, and especially about the 
 cause of his absence. Each of the men had something to 
 say, and each, knowing the popular report that Giovanni 
 was in love with Corona, said his say with as much wit as 
 he could command. Corona herself was interested, for she 
 alone understood his sudden absence, and was anxious to 
 hear the common opinion concerning it. 
 
 The theories advanced were various. Some said he had 
 been quarrelling with the local authorities of Saracinesca, 
 who interfered with his developments and improvements 
 upon the estate, and they gave laughable portraits of the 
 village sages with whom he had been engaged. Others 
 said he had only stopped there a day, and had been in 
 Naples. One said he had been boar-hunting ; another, 
 that the Saracinesca woods had been infested by a band 
 of robbers, who were terrorising the country. 
 
 " And what do you say, Del Ferice ? " asked Corona, 
 seeing a cunning smile upon the man's pale fat face. 
 
 "It is very simple," said Ugo; "it is a very simple 
 matter indeed. If the Duchessa will permit me, I will 
 call him, and we will ask him directly what he has been 
 doing. There he stands with old Cantalorgano at the 
 other end of the room. Public curiosity demands to be 
 satisfied. May I call him, Duchessa ? " 
 
 " By no means," said Corona, quickly. But before she 
 had spoken, Valdarno, who was always sanguine and im 
 pulsive, had rapidly crossed the gallery and was already 
 speaking to Giovanni. The latter bowed his head as 
 though obeying an order, and came quietly back with the 
 young man who had called him. The crowd of men 
 parted before him as he advanced to the Duchessa's chair, 
 and stood waiting in some surprise. 
 
 " What are your commands, Duchessa ? " he asked, in 
 somewhat formal tones. 
 
SAEACINESCA. 133 
 
 "Valdarno is too quick," answered Corona, who was 
 greatly annoyed. "Some one suggested calling you to 
 settle a dispute, and he went before I could stop him. I 
 fear it is very impertinent of us." 
 
 " I am entirely at your service," said Giovanni, who was 
 delighted at having been called, and had found time to 
 recover from his first excitement on seeing her. " What 
 is the question ? " 
 
 " We were all talking about you," said Valdarno. 
 
 " We were wondering where you had been," said an 
 other. 
 
 " They said you had gone boar-hunting." 
 
 " Or to Naples." 
 
 " Or even to Paris." Three or four spoke in one breath. 
 
 " I am exceedingly flattered at the interest you all show 
 in me," said Giovanni, quietly. " There is very little to 
 tell. I have been in Saracinesca upon a matter of busi 
 ness, spending my days in the woods with my steward, 
 and my nights in keeping away the cold and the ghosts. 
 I would have invited you all to join the festivity, had I 
 known how much you were interested. The beef up there 
 is monstrously tough, and the rats are abominably noisy, 
 but the mountain air is said to be very healthy." 
 
 Most of the men present felt that they had not only 
 behaved foolishly, but had spoiled the little circle around 
 the Duchessa by introducing a man who had the power to 
 interest her, whereas they could only afford her a little 
 amusement. Valdarno was still standing, and his chair 
 beside Corona was vacant. Giovanni calmly installed him 
 self upon it, and began to talk as though nothing had 
 happened. 
 
 " You are not dancing, Duchessa," he remarked. " I 
 suppose you have been in the ball-room ? " 
 
 "Yes but I am rather tired this evening. I will 
 wait." 
 
 " You were here at the last great ball, before the old 
 prince died, were you not ? " asked Giovanni, remembering 
 that he had first seen her on that occasion. 
 
134 SABACINESCA. 
 
 " Yes," she answered ; " and I remember that we danced 
 together ; and the accident to the window, and the story 
 of the ghost." 
 
 So they fell into conversation, and though one or two of 
 the men ventured an ineffectual remark, the little circle 
 dropped away, and Giovanni was left alone by the side of 
 the Duchessa. The distant opening strains of a waltz 
 came floating down the gallery, but neither of the two 
 heard, nor cared. 
 
 " It is strange," Giovanni said. " They say it has al 
 ways happened, since the memory of man. No one has 
 ever seen anything, but whenever there is a great ball, 
 there is a crash of broken glass some time in the course of 
 the evening. Nobody could ever explain why that window 
 fell in, five years ago five years ago this month, this 
 very day, I believe," he continued suddenly, in the act of 
 recollection. "Yes the nineteenth of January, I remem 
 ber very well it was my mother's birthday." 
 
 "It is not so extraordinary," said Corona, "for it chances 
 to be the name-day of the present prince. That was prob 
 ably the reason why it was chosen this year." She spoke 
 a little nervously, as though still ill at ease. 
 
 " But it is very strange," said Giovanni, in a low voice. 
 "It is strange that we should have met here the first 
 time, and that we should not have met here since, until 
 to-day." 
 
 He looked towards her as he spoke, and their eyes met 
 and lingered in each other's gaze. Suddenly the blood 
 mounted to Corona's cheeks, her eyelids drooped, she 
 leaned back in her seat and was silent. 
 
 Far off, at the entrance to the ball-room, Del Ferice 
 found Donna Tullia alone. She was very angry. The 
 dance for which she was engaged to Giovanni Saracinesca 
 had begun, and was already half over, and still he did not 
 come. Her pink face was unusually flushed, and there 
 was a disagreeable look in her blue eyes. 
 
 " Ah ! I see Don Giovanni has again forgotten his 
 engagement," said Ugo, in smooth tones. He well knew 
 
SARACINESCA. 135 
 
 that he himself had brought about the omission, but 
 none could have guessed it from his manner. " May I 
 have the honour of a turn before your cavalier arrives ? " 
 he asked. 
 
 " No," said Donna Tullia, angrily. " Give me your 
 arm. We will go and find him." She almost hissed the 
 words through her closed teeth. 
 
 She hardly knew that Del Ferice was leading her as 
 they moved towards the picture-gallery, passing through 
 the crowded rooms that lay between. She never spoke ; but 
 her movement was impetuous, and she resented being 
 delayed by the hosts of men and women who filled the 
 way. As they entered the long apartment, where the 
 portraits of the Frangipani lined the walls from end to 
 end, Del Ferice uttered a well-feigned exclamation. 
 
 " Oh, there he is ! " he cried. " Do you see him ? his 
 back is turned he is alone with the Astrardente." 
 
 "Come," said Donna Tullia, shortly. Del Ferice would 
 have preferred to have let her go alone, and to have wit 
 nessed from a distance the scene he had brought about. 
 But he could not refuse to accompany Madame Mayer. 
 
 Neither Corona, who was facing the pair, but was talk 
 ing with Giovanni, nor Giovanni himself, who was turned 
 away from them, noticed their approach until they came 
 and stood still beside them. Saracinesca looked up and 
 started. The Duchessa d' Astrardente raised her black 
 eyebrows in surprise. 
 
 " Our dance ! " exclaimed Giovanni, in considerable 
 agitation. " It is the one after this " 
 
 " On the contrary," said Donna Tullia, in tones trem 
 bling with rage, "it is already over. It is the most 
 unparalleled insolence ! " 
 
 Giovanni was profoundly disgusted at himself and 
 Donna Tullia. He cared not so much for the humilia 
 tion itself, which was bad enough, as for the annoyance 
 the scene caused Corona, who looked from one to the 
 other in angry astonishment, but of course could have 
 nothing to say. 
 
136 SAKACINESCA. 
 
 " I can only assure you that I thought " 
 
 "You need not assure me ! " cried Donna Tullia, losing 
 all self-control. " There is no excuse, nor pardon it is 
 the second time. Do not insult me further, by inventing 
 untruths for your apology." 
 
 " Nevertheless " began Giovanni, who was sincerely 
 
 sorry for his great rudeness, and would gladly have at 
 tempted to explain his conduct, seeing that Donna Tullia 
 was so justly angry. 
 
 " There is no nevertheless ! " she interrupted. " You 
 may stay where you are/' she added, with a scornful glance 
 at the Duchessa d'Astrardente. Then she laid her hand 
 upon Del Feriee's arm, and swept angrily past, so that 
 the train of her red silk gown brushed sharply against 
 Corona's soft white velvet. 
 
 Giovanni remained standing a moment, with a puzzled 
 expression upon his face. 
 
 " How could you do anything so rude ? " asked Corona, 
 very gravely. " She will never forgive you, and she will 
 be quite right." 
 
 "I do not know how I forgot," he answered, seating 
 himself again. "It is dreadful unpardonable but per 
 haps the consequences will be good." 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 Corona was ill at ease. In the first few moments of 
 being alone with Giovanni the pleasure she felt out 
 weighed all other thoughts. But as the minutes length 
 ened to a quarter of an hour, then to half an hour, she 
 grew nervous, and her answers came more and more 
 shortly. She said to herself that she should never have 
 given him the cotillon, and she wondered how the re 
 mainder of the time would pass. The realisation of what 
 had occurred came upon her, and the hot blood rose to 
 
SARACINESCA. 137 
 
 her face and ebbed away again, and rose once more. Yet 
 she could not speak out what her pride prompted her to 
 say, because she pitied Giovanni a little, and was willing 
 to think for a moment that it was only compassion she 
 felt, lest she should feel that she must send him away. 
 
 But Giovanni sat beside her, and knew that the spell 
 was working upon him, and that there was no salvation. 
 He had taken her unawares, though he hardly knew it, 
 when she first entered, and he asked her suddenly for a 
 dance. He had wondered vaguely why she had so freely 
 consented ; but, in the wild delight of being by her side, 
 he completely lost all hold upon himself, and yielded to 
 the exquisite charm of her presence, as a man who has 
 struggled for a moment against a powerful opiate sinks 
 under its influence, and involuntarily acknowledges his 
 weakness. Strong as he was, his strength was all gone, 
 and he knew not where he should find it. 
 
 " You will have to make her some further apology," 
 said Corona, as Madame Mayer's red train disappeared 
 through the doorway at the other end of the room. 
 
 "Of course I must do something about it," said 
 Giovanni, absently. " After all, I do not wonder it is 
 amazing that I should have recognised her at all. I 
 should forget anything to-night, except that I am to 
 dance with you." 
 
 The Duchessa looked away, and fanned herself slowly ; 
 but she sighed, and checked the deep-drawn breath as 
 by a great effort. The waltz was over, and the dancers 
 streamed through the intervening rooms towards the gal 
 lery in quest of fresher air and freer space. Two and 
 two they came, quickly following each other and passing 
 on, some filling the high seats along the walls, others 
 hastening towards the supper-rooms beyond. A few min 
 utes earlier Saracinesca and Corona had been almost alone 
 in the great apartment ; now they were surrounded on all 
 sides by a chattering crowd of men and women, with 
 flushed faces or unnaturally pale, according as the effort 
 of dancing affected each, and the indistinguishable din of 
 
138 SARACINESCA. 
 
 hundreds of voices so filled the air that Giovanni and the 
 Duchessa could hardly hear each other speak. 
 
 " This is intolerable," said Giovanni, suddenly. " You 
 are not engaged for the last quadrille ? Shall we not go 
 away until the cotillon begins ? " 
 
 Corona hesitated a moment, and was silent. She 
 glanced once at Giovanni, and again surveyed the moving 
 crowd. 
 
 "Yes," she said at last ; "let us go away." 
 
 "You are very good," answered Giovanni in a low 
 voice, as he offered her his arm. She looked at him in 
 quiringly, and her face grew grave, as they slowly made 
 their way out of the room. 
 
 At last they came to the conservatory, and went in 
 among the great plants and the soft lights. There was 
 no one there, and they slowly paced the broad walk that 
 was left clear all round the glass-covered chamber, arid 
 up and down the middle. The plants were disposed so 
 thickly as to form almost impenetrable walls of green on 
 either side; and at one end there was an open space 
 where a little marble fountain played, around which were 
 disposed seats of carved wood. But Giovanni and Corona 
 continued to walk slowly along the tiled path. 
 
 " Why did you say I was good just now ? " asked 
 Corona at last. Her voice sounded cold. 
 
 "I should not have said it, perhaps," answered Gio 
 vanni. " I say many things which I cannot help saying. 
 I am. very sorry." 
 
 "I am very sorry too," answered the Duchessa, quietly. 
 
 " Ah ! if you knew, you would forgive me. If you 
 could guess half the truth, you would forgive me." 
 
 " I would rather not guess it." 
 
 " Of course ; but you have already you know it all. 
 Have I not told you ? " Giovanni spoke in despairing 
 tones. He was utterly weak and spellbound; he could 
 hardly find any words at all. 
 
 " Don Giovanni," said Corona, speaking very proudly 
 and calmly, but not unkindly, "I have known you so 
 
SARACINESCA. 139 
 
 long, I believe you to be so honourable a man, that I am 
 willing to suppose that you said what you said in a 
 moment of madness." 
 
 " Madness ! It was madness ; but it is more sweet 
 to remember than all the other doings of my life," said 
 Saracinesca, his tongue unloosed at last. " If it is mad 
 ness to love you, I am mad past all cure. There is no 
 healing for me now ; I shall never find my senses again, 
 for they are lost in you, and lost for ever. Drive me 
 away, crush me, trample on me if you will ; you cannot 
 kill me nor kill my madness, for I live in you and for 
 you, and I cannot die. That is all. I am not eloquent 
 as other men are, to use smooth words and twist phrases. 
 I love you " 
 
 " You have said too much already too much, far too 
 much," murmured Corona, in broken tones. She had 
 withdrawn her hand from his during his passionate 
 speech, and stood back from him against the dark wall 
 of green plants, her head drooping upon her breast, her 
 fingers clasped fast together. His short rude words were 
 terribly sweet to hear; it was fearful to think that she 
 was alone with him, that one step would bring her to 
 his side, that with one passionate impulse she might 
 throw her white arms about his neck, that one faltering 
 sigh of overwhelming love might bring her queenly head 
 down upon his shoulder. Ah, God! how gladly she 
 would let her tears flow and speak for her ! how un 
 utterably sweet it would be to rest for one instant in his 
 arms, to love and be loved as she longed to be ! 
 
 " You are so cold," he cried, passionately. " You can 
 not understand. All spoken words are not too much, are 
 not enough \ )move you, to make you see that I do really 
 worship and adore you ; you, the whole of you your glo 
 rious face, your sweet small hands, your queenly ways, 
 the light of your eyes, and the words of your lips all 
 of you, body and soul, I love. I would I might die now, 
 for you know it, even if you will not understand " 
 
 He moved a step nearer to her, stretching out his hands 
 
140 SARACINESCA. 
 
 as he spoke. Corona trembled convulsively, and her lips 
 turned white in the torture of temptation ; she leaned far 
 back against the green leaves, staring wildly at Giovanni, 
 held as in a vice by the mighty passions of love and fear. 
 Having yielded her ears to his words, they fascinated her 
 horribly. He, poor man, had long lost all control of him 
 self. His resolutions, long pondered in the solitude of 
 Saracinesca, had vanished like unsubstantial vapours be 
 fore a strong fire, and his heart and soul were ablaze. 
 
 "Do not look at me so," he said almost tenderly. "Do 
 not look at me as though you feared me, as though you 
 hated me. Can you not see that it is I who fear you as 
 well as love you, who tremble at your coldness, who watch 
 for your slightest kind look ? Ah, Corona, you have made 
 me so happy ! there is no angel in all heaven but would 
 give up his Paradise to change for mine ! " 
 
 He had taken her hand and pressed it wildly to his lips. 
 Her eyelids drooped, and her head fell back for one mo 
 ment. They stood so very near that his arm had almost 
 stolen about her slender waist, he almost thought he was 
 supporting her. 
 
 Suddenly, without the least warning, she drew herself 
 up to her full height, and thrust Giovanni back to her 
 arm's length, strongly, almost roughly. 
 
 " Never ! " she said. " I am a weak woman, but not so 
 weak as that. I am miserable, but not so miserable as to 
 listen to you. Giovanni Saracinesca, you say you love me 
 God grant it is not true ! but you say it. Then, have 
 you no honour, no courage, no strength ? Is there noth 
 ing of the man left in you ? Is there no truth in your love, 
 no generosity in your heart ? If you so love me as you 
 say you do, do you care so little what becomes of me as 
 to tempt me to love you ? " 
 
 She spoke very earnestly, not scornfully nor angrily, but 
 in the certainty of strength and right, and in the strong 
 persuasion that the headstrong man would hear and be 
 convinced. She was weak no longer, for one desperate 
 moment her fate had trembled in the balance, but she had 
 
SARACINESCA. 141 
 
 not hesitated even then ; she had struggled bravely, and 
 her brave soul had won the great battle. She had been 
 weak the other day at the theatre, in letting herself ask 
 the question to which she knew the answer ; she had been 
 miserably weak that very night in so abandoning herself 
 to the influence she loved and dreaded ; but at the great 
 moment, when heaven and earth swam before her as in a 
 wild and unreal mirage, with the voice of the man she 
 loved ringing in her ears, speaking such words as it was 
 an ecstasy to hear, she had been no longer weak the 
 reality of danger had brought forth the sincerity of her 
 goodness, and her heart had found courage to do a great 
 deed. She had overcome, and she knew it. 
 
 Giovanni stood back from her, and hung his head. In 
 a moment the force of his passion was checked, and from 
 the supreme verge of unspeakable and rapturous delight, 
 he was cast suddenly into the depths of his own remorse. 
 He stood silent before her, trembling and awestruck. 
 
 " You cannot understand me," she said, " I do not un 
 derstand myself. But this I know, that you are not what 
 you have seemed to-night that there is enough manliness 
 and nobility in you to respect a woman, and that you will 
 hereafter prove that I am right. I pray that I may not 
 see you any more ; but if I must see you, I will trust you 
 thus much say that I may trust you," she added, her 
 strong smooth voice sinking in a trembling cadence, half 
 beseeching, and yet wholly commanding. 
 
 Saracinesca bent his heavy brows, and was silent for a 
 moment. Then he looked up, and his eyes met hers, and 
 seemed to gather strength from her. 
 
 " If you will let me see you sometimes, you may trust 
 me. I would I were as noble and good as you I am not. 
 I will try to be. Ah, Corona ! " he cried suddenly, " for 
 give me, forgive me ! I hardly knew what I said." 
 
 " Hush ! " said the Duchessa, gently ; " you must not 
 speak like that, nor call me Corona. Perhaps I am wrong 
 to forgive you wholly, but I believe in you. I believe you 
 will understand, and that you will be worthy of the trust 
 I place in you." 
 Vol. 107 
 
142 SARACINESCA. 
 
 "Indeed, Duchessa, none shall say that they have 
 trusted me in vain," answered Giovanni very proudly 
 "neither man nor woman and, least of all women, you." 
 
 "That is well," said she, with a faint shadow of a 
 smile. " I would rather see you proud than reckless. 
 See that you remain so that neither by word nor deed 
 you ever remind me that I have had anything to forgive. 
 It is the only way in which any intercourse between us 
 can be possible after this this dreadful night." 
 
 Giovanni bowed his head. He was still pale, but he 
 had regained control of himself. 
 
 " I solemnly promise that I will not recall it to your 
 memory, and I implore your forgiveness, even though 
 you cannot forget." 
 
 "I cannot forget," said Corona, almost under her breath. 
 Giovanni's eyes flashed for a moment. " Shall we go back 
 to the ball-room ? I will go home soon." 
 
 As they turned to go, a loud crash, as of broken glass, 
 with the fall of some heavy body, startled them, and made 
 them stand still in the middle of the walk. The noisy 
 concussion was followed by a complete silence. Corona, 
 whose nerves had been severely tried, trembled slightly. 
 
 " It is strange," she said; "they say it always happens." 
 
 There was nothing to be seen. The thick web of plants 
 hid the cause of the noise from view, whatever it might 
 be. Giovanni hesitated a moment, looking about to see 
 how he could get behind the banks of flower-pots. Then 
 he left Corona without a word, and striding to the end 
 of the walk, disappeared into the depths of the conserva 
 tory. He had noticed that there was a narrow entrance 
 at the end nearest the fountain, intended probably to ad 
 mit the gardener for the purpose of watering the plants. 
 Corona could hear his quick steps ; she thought she heard 
 a low groan and a voice whispering, but she might have 
 been mistaken, for the place was large, and her heart was 
 beating fast. 
 
 Giovanni had not gone far in the narrow way, which 
 was sufficiently lighted by the soft light of the many 
 
SARACINESCA. 143 
 
 candles concealed in various parts of the conservatory, 
 when he came upon the figure of a man sitting, as he had 
 apparently fallen, across the small passage. The frag 
 ments of a heavy earthenware vase lay beyond him, with 
 a heap of earth and roots ; and the tall india-rubber plant 
 which grew in it had fallen against the sloping glass roof 
 and shattered several panes. As Giovanni came suddenly 
 upon him, the man struggled to rise, and in the dim light 
 Saracinesca recognised Del Ferice. The truth flashed 
 upon him at once. The fellow had been listening, and 
 had probably heard all. Giovanni instantly resolved to 
 conceal the fact from the Duchessa, to whom the knowl 
 edge that the painful scene had been overheard would be 
 a bitter mortification. Giovanni could undertake to 
 silence the eavesdropper. 
 
 Quick as thought his strong brown hands gripped the 
 throat of Ugo del Ferice, stifling his breath like a collar 
 of iron. 
 
 " Dog ! " he whispered fiercely in the wretch's ear, " if 
 you breathe, I will kill you now ! You will find me in 
 my own house in an hour. Be silent now ! " Giovanni 
 whispered, with such a terrible grip on the fellow's 
 throat that his eyeballs seemed starting from his head. 
 Then he turned and went out by the way he had entered, 
 leaving Del Ferice writhing with pain and gasping for 
 breath. As he joined Corona, his face betrayed no emo 
 tion he had been so pale before that he could not turn 
 whiter in his anger but his eyes gleamed fiercely at the 
 thought of fight. The Duchessa stood where he had left 
 her, still much agitated. 
 
 " It is nothing," said Giovanni, with a forced laugh, as 
 he offered her his arm and led her quickly away. " Im 
 agine. A great vase with one of Frangipani's favourite 
 plants in it had been badly propped, and had fallen right 
 through the glass, outward." 
 
 "It is strange," said Corona. "I was almost sure I 
 heard a groan." 
 
 " It was the wind. The glass was broken, and it is a 
 stormy night." 
 
144 SAEACINESCA. 
 
 " That was just the way that window fell in five years 
 ago," said Corona. "Something always happens here. 
 I think I will go home let us find my husband." 
 
 No one would have guessed, from Corona's face, that 
 anything extraordinary had occurred in the half-hour she 
 had spent in the conservatory. She walked calmly by 
 Giovanni's side, not a trace of excitement on her pale 
 proud face, not a sign of uneasiness in the quiet glance 
 of her splendid eyes. She had conquered, and she knew 
 it, never to be tempted again; she had conquered herself 
 and she had overcome the man beside her. Giovanni 
 glanced at her in wondering admiration. 
 
 "You are the bravest woman in the world, as I am 
 the most contemptible of men," he said suddenly, as 
 they entered the picture-gallery. 
 
 " I am not brave," she answered calmly, " neither are 
 you contemptible, my friend. We have both been very 
 near to our destruction, but it has pleased God to save us." 
 
 " By you," said Saracinesca, very solemnly. He knew 
 that within six hours he might be lying dead upon some 
 plot of wet grass without the city, and he grew very 
 grave, after the manner of brave men when death is 
 abroad. 
 
 " You have saved my soul to-night," he said earnestly. 
 "Will you give me your blessing and whole forgiveness ? 
 Do not laugh at me, nor think me foolish. The blessing 
 of such women as you should make men braver and 
 better." 
 
 The gallery was again deserted. The cotillon had be 
 gun, and those who were not dancing 'were at supper. 
 Corona stood still for one moment by the very chair 
 where they had sat so long. 
 
 " I forgive you wholly. I pray that all blessings may 
 be upon you always, in life and in death, for ever." 
 
 Giovanni bowed his head reverently. It seemed as 
 though the woman he so loved was speaking a benedic 
 tion upon his death, a last in pace which should follow 
 him for all eternity. 
 
SAKACINESCA. 145 
 
 "In life and in death, I will honour you truly and 
 serve you faithfully for ever," he answered. As he 
 raised his head, Corona saw that there were tears in his 
 eyes, and she felt that there were tears in her own. 
 
 " Come," she said, and they passed on in silence. 
 
 She found her husband at last in the supper-room. He 
 was leisurely discussing the wing of a chicken and a small 
 glass of claret-and-water, with a gouty ambassador whose 
 wife had insisted upon dancing the cotillon, and who was 
 revenging himself upon a Strasbourg pdte and a bottle of 
 dry champagne. 
 
 " Ah, my dear," said Astrardente, looking up from his 
 modest fare, "you have been dancing ? You have come 
 to supper ? You are very wise. I have danced a great 
 deal myself, but I have not seen you the room was so 
 crowded. Here this small table will hold us all, just a 
 quartet." 
 
 " Thanks I am not hungry. Will you take me home 
 when you have finished supper ? Or are you going to 
 stay ? Do not wait, Don Giovanni ; I know you are busy 
 in the cotillon. My husband will take care of me. Good 
 night." 
 
 Giovanni bowed, and went away, glad to be alone at 
 last. He had to be at home in half an hour according to 
 his engagement, and he had to look about him for a friend. 
 All Rome was at the ball ; but the men upon whom he 
 could call for such service as he required, were all dancing. 
 Moreover, he reflected that in such a matter it was neces 
 sary to have some one especially trustworthy. It would 
 not do to have the real cause of the duel known, and the 
 choice of a second was a very important matter. He never 
 doubted that Del Ferice would send some one with a 
 challenge at the appointed time. Del Ferice was a 
 scoundrel, doubtless ; but he was quick with the foils, 
 and had often appeared as second in affairs of honour. 
 
 Giovanni stood by the door of the ball-room, looking 
 at the many familiar faces, and wondering how he could 
 induce any one to leave his partner at that hour, and go 
 
146 SABACINESCA. 
 
 home with him. Suddenly he was aware that his father 
 was standing beside him and eyeing him curiously. 
 
 " What is the matter, Giovannino ? " inquired the old 
 Prince. " Why are you not dancing ? " 
 
 "The fact is " began Giovanni, and then stopped 
 
 suddenly. An idea struck him. He went close to his 
 father, and spoke in a low voice. 
 
 " The fact is, that I have just taken a man by the throat 
 and otherwise insulted him, by calling him a dog. The 
 fellow seemed annoyed, and so I told him he might send 
 to our house in an hour for an explanation. I cannot find 
 a friend, because everybody is dancing this abominable 
 cotillon. Perhaps you can help me," he added, looking at 
 his father rather doubtfully. To his surprise and consider 
 able relief the old Prince burst into a hearty laugh. 
 
 " Of course," he cried. " What do you take me for ? 
 Do you think I would desert my boy in a fight ? Go and 
 call my carriage, and wait for me while I pick up some 
 body for a witness ; we can talk on the way home." 
 
 The old Prince had been a duellist in his day, and he 
 would no more have thought of advising his son not to 
 fight than of refusing a challenge himself. He was, more 
 over, exceedingly bored at the ball, and not in the least 
 sleepy. The prospect of an exciting night was novel and 
 delightful. He knew Giovanni's extraordinary skill, and 
 feared nothing for him. He knew everybody in the ball 
 room was engaged, and he went straight to the supper- 
 table, expecting to find some one there. Astrardente, the 
 Duchessa, and the gouty ambassador were still together, 
 as Giovanni had left them a moment before. The Prince 
 did not like Astrardente, but he knew the ambassador 
 very well. He called him aside, with an apology to the 
 Duchessa. 
 
 "I want a young man immediately," said old Sara- 
 cinesca, stroking his white beard with his broad brown 
 hand. " Can you tell of any one who is not dancing ? " 
 
 " There is Astrardente," answered his Excellency, with 
 an ironical smile. " A duel ? " he asked. 
 
SARACINESCA. 147 
 
 Saracinesca nodded. 
 
 "I am too old," said the diplomatist, thoughtfully; 
 " but it would be infinitely amusing. I cannot give you 
 one of my secretaries either. It always makes such a 
 scandal. Oh, there goes the very man! Catch him 
 before it is too late ! " 
 
 Old Saracinesca glanced in the direction the ambas 
 sador indicated, and darted away. He was as active as 
 a boy, in spite of his sixty years. 
 
 " Eh ! " he cried. " Hi ! you ! Come here ! Spicca ! 
 Stop ! Excuse me I am in a great hurry ! " 
 
 Count Spicca, whom he thus addressed, paused and 
 looked round through his single eyeglass in some sur 
 prise. He was an immensely tall and cadaverous-look 
 ing man, with a black beard and searching grey eyes. 
 
 " I really beg your pardon," said the Prince hurriedly, 
 in a low voice, as he came up, "but I am in a great 
 hurry an affair of honour will you be witness ? My 
 carriage is at the door." 
 
 " With pleasure," said Count Spicca, quietly ; and with 
 out further comment he accompanied the Prince to the 
 outer hall. Giovanni was waiting, and the Prince's foot 
 man stood at the head of the stairs. In three minutes 
 the father and son and the melancholy Spicca were seated 
 in the carriage, on their way to the Palazzo Saracinesca. 
 
 " Now then, Giovannino," said the Prince, as he lit a 
 cigarette in the darkness, " tell us all about it." 
 
 "There is not much to tell," said Giovanni. "If the 
 challenge arrives, there is nothing to be done but to fight. 
 I took him by the throat and nearly strangled him." 
 
 " Whom ? " asked Spicca, mournfully. 
 
 " Oh ! it is Del Ferice," answered Giovanni, who had 
 forgotten that he had not mentioned the name of his 
 probable antagonist. The Prince laughed. 
 
 " Del Ferice ! Who would have thought it ? He is a 
 dead man. What was it all about ? " 
 
 "That is unnecessary to say here," said Giovanni, 
 quietly. "He insulted me grossly. I half-strangled 
 
148 SARACINESCA. 
 
 him, and told Mm he was a dog. I suppose he will 
 fight." 
 
 "Ah yes; he will probably fight," repeated Spicca, 
 thoughtfully. " What are your weapons, Don Giovanni ? " 
 
 " Anything he likes." 
 
 "But the choice is yours if he challenges," returned 
 the Count. 
 
 "As you please. Arrange all that foils, swords, or 
 pistols." 
 
 " You do not seem to take much interest in this affair," 
 remarked Spicca, sadly. 
 
 " He is best with foils," said the old Prince. 
 
 "Foils or pistols, of course," said the Count. "Swords 
 are child's play." 
 
 Satisfied that his seconds meant business, Giovanni 
 sank back in his corner of the carriage, and was silent. 
 
 " We had better have the meeting in my villa," said 
 his father. " If it rains, they can fight indoors. I will 
 send for the surgeon at once." 
 
 In a few moments they reached the Palazzo Saracin- 
 esca. The Prince left word at the porter's lodge that 
 any gentlemen who> arrived were to be admitted, and all 
 three went up-stairs. It was half -past two o'clock. 
 
 As they entered the apartments, they heard a carriage 
 drive under the great archway below. 
 
 " Go to your rooms, Giovannino," said the old Prince. 
 " These fellows are punctual. I will call you when they 
 are gone. I suppose you mean business seriously ? " 
 
 "I care nothing about him. I will give him any satis 
 faction he pleases," answered Giovanni. "It is very 
 kind of you to undertake the matter I am very grate 
 ful." 
 
 " I would not leave it to anybody else," muttered the 
 old Prince, as he hurried away to meet Del Ferice's 
 seconds. 
 
 Giovanni entered his own rooms, and went straight to 
 his writing-table. He took a pen and a sheet of paper 
 and began writing. His face was very grave, but his 
 
SARACINESCA. 149 
 
 hand was steady. For more than an hour he wrote with 
 out pausing. Then his father entered the room. 
 
 " Well ? " said Giovanni, looking up. 
 
 " It is all settled," said the old gentleman, seriously. 
 "I was afraid they might make some objection to me as a 
 second. You know there is an old clause about near rela 
 tions acting in such cases. But they declared that they 
 considered my co-operation an honour so that is all right. 
 You must do your best, my boy. This rascal means to 
 hurt you if he can. Seven o'clock is the time. We must 
 leave here at half-past six. You can sleep two hours and 
 a half. I will sit up and call you. Spicca has gone home 
 to change his clothes, and is coming back immediately. 
 Now lie down. I will see to your foils " 
 
 " Is it foils, then ? " asked Giovanni, quietly. 
 
 "Yes. They made no objection. You had better lie 
 down." 
 
 " I will. Father, if anything should happen to me it 
 may, you know you will find my keys in this drawer, 
 and this letter, which I beg you will read. It is to 
 yourself." 
 
 " Nonsense, my dear boy ! Nothing will happen to 
 you you will just run him through the arm and come 
 home to breakfast." 
 
 The old Prince spoke in his rough cheerful way ; but 
 his voice trembled, and he turned aside to hide two great 
 tears that had fallen upon his dark cheeks and were los 
 ing themselves in his white beard. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Giovanni slept soundly for two hours. He was very 
 tired with the many emotions of the night, and the 
 arrangements for the meeting being completed, it seemed 
 as though work were over and the pressure removed. It 
 
150 SAKACINESCA. 
 
 is said that men will sleep for hours when the trial is 
 over and the sentence of death has been passed ; and 
 though it was more likely that Del Ferice would be killed 
 than that Giovanni would be hurt, the latter felt not 
 unlike a man who has been tried for his life. He had 
 suffered in a couple of hours almost every emotion of 
 which he was capable his love for Corona, long con 
 trolled and choked down, had broken bounds at last, and 
 found expression for itself ; he had in a moment suf 
 fered the severest humiliation and the most sincere sor 
 row at her reproaches ; he had known the fear of seeing 
 her no more, and the sweetness of pardon from her own 
 lips ; he had found himself on a sudden in a frenzy of 
 righteous wrath against Del Ferice, and a moment later 
 he had been forced to hide his anger under a calm face ; 
 and at last, when the night was far spent, he had received 
 the assurance that in less than four hours he would have 
 ample opportunity for taking vengeance upon the cow 
 ardly eavesdropper who had so foully got possession of 
 the one secret he held dear. Worn out with all he had 
 suffered, and calm in the expectation of the morning's 
 struggle, Giovanni lay down upon his bed and slept. 
 
 Del Ferice, on the contrary, was very wakeful. He had 
 an unpleasant sensation about his throat as though he had 
 been hanged, and cut down before he was dead; and he 
 suffered the unutterable mortification of knowing that, 
 after a long and successful social career, he had been de 
 tected by his worst enemy in a piece of disgraceful vil- 
 lany. In the first place, Giovanni might kill him. Del 
 Ferice was a very good fencer, but Saracinesca was 
 stronger and more active ; there was certainly considera 
 ble danger in the duel. On the other hand, if he survived, 
 Giovanni had him in his power for the rest of his life, 
 and there was no escape possible. He had been caught 
 listening caught in a flagrantly dishonest trick and he 
 well knew that if the matter had been brought before a 
 jury of honour, he would have been declared incompetent 
 to claim any satisfaction. 
 
SAKACINESCA. 151 
 
 It was not the first time Del Ferice had done such 
 things, but it was the first time he had been caught. He 
 cursed his awkwardness in oversetting the vase just at the 
 moment when his game was successfully played to the end 
 just when he thought that he began to see land, in hav 
 ing discovered beyond all doubt that Giovanni was devoted 
 body and soul to Corona d'Astrardente. The information 
 had been necessary to him, for he was beginning seriously 
 to press his suit with Donna Tullia, and he needed to be 
 sure that Giovanni was not a rival to be feared. He had 
 long suspected Saracinesca's devotion to the dark Du- 
 chessa, and by constantly putting himself in his way, he 
 had done his best to excite his jealousy and to stimulate 
 his passion. Giovanni never could have considered Del 
 Ferice as a rival ; the idea would hav v e been ridiculous. 
 But the constant annoyance of finding the man by 
 Corona's side, when he desired to be alone with her, had 
 in some measure heightened the effect Del Ferice desired, 
 though it had not actually produced it. Being a good 
 judge of character, he had sensibly reckoned his chances 
 against Giovanni, and he had formed so just an opinion 
 of the man's bold and devoted character as to be abso 
 lutely sure that if Saracinesa loved Corona he would not 
 seriously think of marrying Donna Tullia. He had done 
 all he could to strengthen the passion when he guessed 
 it was already growing, and at the very moment when he 
 had received circumstantial evidence of it which placed 
 it beyond all doubt, he had allowed himself to be 
 discovered, through his own unpardonable carelessness. 
 
 Evidently the only satisfactory way out of the difficulty 
 was to kill Giovanni outright, if he could do it. In that 
 way he would rid himself of an enemy, and at the same 
 time of the evidence against himself. The question was, 
 how this could be accomplished ; for Giovanni was a man 
 of courage, strength, and experience, and he himself Ugo 
 del Ferice possessed none of those qualities in any great 
 degree. The result was, that he slept not at all, but passed 
 the night in a state of nervous anxiety by no means con- 
 
152 SABACINESCA. 
 
 ducive to steadiness of hand or calmness of the nerves. He 
 was less pleased than ever when he heard that Giovanni's 
 seconds were his own father and the melancholy Spicca, 
 who was the most celebrated duellist in Italy, in spite of 
 his cadaverous long body, his sad voice, and his expression 
 of mournful resignation to the course of events. 
 
 In the event of his neither killing Don Giovanni nor 
 being himself killed, what he most dreaded was the cer 
 tainty that for the rest of his life he must be in his enemy's 
 power. He knew that, for Corona's sake, Griovanni would 
 not mention the cause of the duel, and no one could have 
 induced him to speak of it himself ; but it would be a 
 terrible hindrance in his life to feel at every turn that the 
 man he hated had the power to expose him to the world as 
 a scoundrel of the first water. What he had heard gave 
 him but small influence over Saracinesca, though it was of 
 great value in determining his own action. To say aloud 
 to the world that Giovanni loved the Duchessa d'Astrar- 
 dente would be of little use. Del Ferice could not, for 
 very shame, tell how he had found it out ; and there was 
 no other proof but his evidence, for he guessed that from 
 that time forward the open relation between the two would 
 be even more formal than before and the most credulous 
 people do not believe in a great fire unless they can see a 
 little smoke. He had not even the advantage of turning 
 the duel to account in his interest with Donna Tullia, since 
 Giovanni could force him to deny that she was implicated 
 in the question, on pain of exposing his treachery. There 
 was palpably no satisfactory way out of the matter unless 
 he could kill his adversary. He would have to leave the 
 country for a while ; but Giovanni once dead, it would be 
 easy to make Donna Tullia believe they had fought on her 
 account, and to derive all the advantage there was to be 
 gained from posing before the world as her defender. 
 
 But though Del Ferice's rest was disturbed by the con 
 templation of his difficulties, he did not neglect any pre 
 caution which might save his strength for the morrow. 
 He lay down upon his bed, stretching himself at full 
 
SABACINESCA. 153 
 
 length, and carefully keeping his right arm free, lest, by 
 letting his weight fall upon it as he lay, he should benumb 
 the muscles or stiffen the joints ; from time to time he 
 rubbed a little strengthening ointment upon his wrist, and 
 he was careful that the light should not shine in his eyes 
 and weary them. At six o'clock his seconds appeared with 
 the surgeon they had engaged, and the four men were soon 
 driving rapidly down the Corso towards the gate. 
 
 So punctual were the two parties that they arrived 
 simultaneously at the gate of the villa which had been 
 selected for the encounter. The old Prince took a key 
 from his pocket and himself opened the great iron gate. 
 The carriages drove in, and the gates were closed by the 
 astonished porter, who came running out as they creaked 
 upon their hinges. The light was already sufficient for 
 the purpose of fencing, as the eight men descended 
 simultaneously before the house. The morning was 
 cloudy, but the ground was dry. The principals and 
 seconds saluted each other formally. Giovanni withdrew 
 to a little distance on one side with his surgeon, and Del 
 Ferice stood aside with his. 
 
 The melancholy Spicca, who looked like the shadow of 
 death in the dim morning light, was the first to speak. 
 
 " Of course you know the best spot in the villa ? " he 
 said to the old Prince. 
 
 "As there is no sun, I suggest that they fight upon 
 the ground behind the house. It is hard and dry." 
 
 The whole party followed old Saracinesca. Spicca had 
 the foils in a green bag. The place suggested by the 
 Prince seemed in every way adapted, and Del Ferice's 
 seconds made no objection. There was absolutely no 
 choice of position upon the ground, which was an open 
 space about twenty yards square, hard and well rolled, 
 preferable in every way to a grass lawn. 
 
 Without further comment, Giovanni took off his coat 
 and waistcoat, and Del Ferice, who looked paler and 
 more unhealthy than usual, followed his example. The 
 seconds crossed sides to examine the principals' shirts, 
 
154 SAKACINESCA. 
 
 and to assure themselves that they wore no flannel 
 underneath the unstarched linen. This formality being 
 accomplished, the foils were carefully compared, and 
 Giovanni was offered the first choice. He took the one 
 nearest his hand, and the other was carried to Del Ferice. 
 They were simple fencing foils, the buttons being re 
 moved and the points sharpened there was nothing to 
 choose between them. The seconds then each took a 
 sword, and stationed the combatants some seven or eight 
 paces apart, while they themselves stood a little aside, 
 each upon the right hand of his principal, and the wit 
 nesses placed themselves at opposite corners of the 
 ground, the surgeons remaining at the ends behind the 
 antagonists. There was a moment's pause. When all was 
 ready, old Saracinesca came close to Giovanni, while Del 
 Ferice's second approached his principal in like manner. 
 
 " Giovanni," said the old Prince, gravely, " as your 
 second I am bound to recommend you to make any ad 
 vance in your power towards a friendly understanding. 
 Can you do so ? " 
 
 "No, father, I cannot," answered Giovanni, with a 
 slight smile. His face was perfectly calm, and of a 
 natural colour. Old Saracinesca crossed the ground, and 
 met Casalverde, the opposite second, half-way. Each 
 formally expressed to the other his great regret that no 
 arrangement would be possible, and then retired again to 
 the right hand of his principal. 
 
 " Gentlemen," said the Prince, in a loud voice, " are 
 you ready ? " As both men bowed their assent, he added 
 immediately, in a sharp tone of command, " In guard ! " 
 
 Giovanni and Del Ferice each made a step forward, 
 saluted each other with their foils, repeated the salute to 
 the seconds and witnesses, and then came face to face 
 and fell into position. Each made one thrust in tierce 
 at the other, in the usual fashion of compliment, each 
 parrying in the same way. 
 
 " Halt ! " cried Saracinesca and Casalverde, in the 
 same breath. 
 
SABACINESCA. 155 
 
 " In guard ! " shouted the Prince again, and the duel 
 commenced. 
 
 In a moment the difference between the two men was 
 apparent. Del Ferice fenced in the Neapolitan style 
 his arm straight before him, never bending from the 
 elbow, making all his play with his wrist, his back 
 straight, and his knees so much bent that he seemed not 
 more than half his height. He made his movements 
 short and quick, and relatively few, in evident fear of 
 tiring himself at the start. To a casual observer his 
 fence was less graceful than his antagonist's, his lunges 
 less daring, his parries less brilliant. But as the old 
 Prince watched him he saw that the point of his foil 
 advanced and retreated in a perfectly straight line, and 
 in parrying described the smallest circle possible, while 
 his cold watery blue eye was fixed steadily upon his 
 antagonist ; old Saracinesca ground his teeth, for he saw 
 that the man was a most accomplished swordsman. 
 
 Giovanni fought with the air of one who defended him 
 self, without much thought of attack. He did not bend so 
 low as Del Ferice, his arm doubled a little before his 
 , lunge, and his foil occasionally made a wide circle in the 
 air. He seemed careless, but in strength and elasticity 
 he was far superior to his enemy, and could perhaps af 
 ford to trust to these advantages, when a man like Del 
 Ferice was obliged to employ his whole skill and science. 
 
 They had been fencing for more than two minutes, 
 without any apparent result, when Giovanni seemed sud 
 denly to change his tactics. He lowered the point of his 
 weapon a little, and, keeping it straight before him, began 
 to press more closely upon his antagonist. Del Ferice 
 kept his arm at full length, and broke ground for a yard 
 or two, making clever feints in carte at Giovanni's body, 
 with the object of stopping his advance. But Giovanni 
 pressed him, and suddenly made a peculiar movement 
 with his foil, bringing it in contact with his enemy's 
 along its length. 
 
 "Halt!" cried Casalverde. Both men lowered their 
 
156 SARACINESCA. 
 
 weapons instantly, and the seconds sprang forward and 
 touched their swords between them. Giovanni bit his 
 lip angrily. 
 
 " Why < halt ' ? " asked the Prince, sharply. " Neither 
 is touched." 
 
 " My principal's shoe-string is untied," answered Casal- 
 verde, calmly. It was true. " He might easily trip and 
 fall," explained Del Ferice's friend, bending down and 
 proceeding to tie the silk ribbon. The Prince shrugged 
 his shoulders, and retired with Giovanni a few steps back. 
 
 " Giovanni," he said, in a voice trembling with emotion, 
 " if you are not more careful, he will do you a mischief. 
 For heaven's sake run him through the arm and let us 
 be done with it." 
 
 " I should have disarmed him that time if his second 
 had not stopped us," said Giovanni, calmly. "He is 
 ready again," he added, " come on." 
 
 "In guard!" 
 
 Again the two men advanced, and again the foils 
 crossed and recrossed and rang loudly in the cold morning 
 air. Once more Giovanni pressed upon Del Ferice, and Del 
 Ferice broke ground. In answer to a quick feint, Giovanni 
 made a round parry and a sharp short lunge in tierce. 
 
 " Halt ! " yelled Casalverde. Old Saracinesca sprang in, 
 and Giovanni lowered his weapon. But Casalverde did 
 not interpose his sword. A full two seconds after the 
 cry to halt, Del Ferice lunged right forward. Giovanni 
 thrust out his arm to save his body from the foul attempt 
 he had not time to raise his weapon. Del Ferice's 
 sharp rapier entered his wrist and tore a long wound 
 nearly to the elbow. 
 
 Giovanni said nothing, but his sword dropped from his 
 hand and he turned upon his father, white with rage. 
 The blood streamed down his sleeve, and his surgeon 
 came running towards him. 
 
 The old man had understood at a glance the foul play 
 that had been practised, and going forward laid his hand 
 upon the arm of Del Ferice's second. 
 
SARACISHESCA. 157 
 
 " Why did you stop them, sir ? And where was your 
 sword ? " he said in great anger. Del Ferice was leaning 
 upon his friend ; a greenish pallor had overspread his 
 face, but there was a smile under his colourless moustache. 
 
 " My principal was touched," said Casalverde, pointing 
 to a tiny scratch upon Del Ferice's neck, from which a 
 single drop of blood was slowly oozing. 
 
 " Then why did you not prevent your principal from 
 thrusting after you cried the halt ? " asked Saracinesca, 
 severely. "You have singularly misunderstood your 
 duties, sir, and when these gentlemen are satisfied, you 
 will be answerable to me." 
 
 Casalverde was silent. 
 
 " I protest myself wholly satisfied," said Ugo, with a 
 disagreeable smile, as he glanced to where the surgeon 
 was binding up Giovanni's arm. 
 
 " Sir, " said old Saracinesca, fiercely addressing the sec 
 ond, " I am not here to bandy words with your principal. 
 He may express himself satisfied through you, if he 
 pleases. My principal, through me, expresses his entire 
 dissatisfaction." 
 
 " Your principal, Prince," answered Casalverde, coldly, 
 " is unable to proceed, seeing that his right arm is injured." 
 
 " My son, sir, fences as readily with his left hand as 
 with his right," returned old Saracinesca. 
 
 Del Ferice's face fell, and his smile vanished instantly. 
 
 " In that case we are ready," returned Casalverde, un 
 able, however, to conceal his annoyance. He was a friend 
 of Del Ferice's and would gladly have seen Giovanni run 
 through the body by the foul thrust. 
 
 There was a moment's consultation on the other side. 
 
 " I will give myself the pleasure of killing that gentle 
 man to-morrow morning," remarked Spicca, as he mourn 
 fully watched the surgeon's operations. 
 
 " Unless I kill him myself to-day," returned the Prince 
 savagely, in his white beard. "Are you ready, Giovan- 
 nino ? " It never occurred to him to ask his son if he 
 was too badly hurt to proceed. 
 
158 SAEACINESCA. 
 
 Giovanni never spoke, but the hot blood had mounted 
 to his temples, and he was dangerously angry. He took 
 the foil they gave him, and felt the point quietly. It 
 was sharp as a needle. He nodded to his father's ques 
 tion, and they resumed their places, the old Prince this 
 time standing on the left, as his son had changed hands. 
 Del Ferice came forward rather timidly. His courage 
 had sustained him so far, but the consciousness of hav 
 ing done a foul deed, and the sight of the angry man be 
 fore him, were beginning to make him nervous. He felt 
 uncomfortable, too, at the idea of fencing against a left- 
 handed antagonist. 
 
 Giovanni made one or two lunges, and then, with a 
 strange movement unlike anything any one present was 
 acquainted with, seemed to wind his blade round Del 
 Ferice's, and, with a violent jerk of the wrist, sent the 
 weapon flying across the open space. It struck a window 
 of the house, and crashed through the panes. 
 
 " More broken glass ! " said Giovanni scornfully, as he 
 lowered his point and stepped back two paces. " Take 
 another sword, sir," he said; ' C I will not kill you de 
 fenceless." 
 
 " Good heavens, Giovannino ! " exclaimed his father in 
 the greatest excitement ; " where on earth did you learn 
 that trick ? " 
 
 "On my travels, father," returned Giovanni, with a 
 smile ; " where you tell me I learned so much that was 
 bad. He looks frightened," he added in a low voice, as 
 he glanced at Del Ferice's livid face. 
 
 " He has cause," returned the Prince, " if he ever had 
 in his life ! " 
 
 Casalverde and his witness advanced from the other 
 side with a fresh pair of foils ; for the one that had gone 
 through the window could not be recovered at once, and 
 was probably badly bent by the twist it had received. 
 The gentlemen offered Giovanni his choice. 
 
 "If there is no objection I will keep the one I have," 
 said he to his father. The foils were measured, and 
 
SABACINESCA. 159 
 
 were found to be alike. The two gentlemen retired, and 
 Del Ferice chose a weapon. 
 
 " That is right," said Spicca, as he slowly went back to 
 his place. " You should never part with an old friend." 
 
 " We are ready ! " was called from the opposite side. 
 
 " In guard, then ! " cried the Prince. The angry flush 
 had not subsided from Giovanni's forehead, as he again 
 went forward. Del Ferice came up like a man who has 
 suddenly made up his mind to meet death, with a look of 
 extraordinary determination on his pale face. 
 
 Before they had made half-a-dozen passes Ugo slipped, 
 or pretended to slip, and fell upon his right knee ; but as 
 he came to the ground, he made a sharp thrust upwards 
 under Giovanni's extended left arm. 
 
 The old Prince uttered a fearful oath, that rang and 
 echoed along the walls of the ancient villa. Del Ferice 
 had executed the celebrated feint known long ago as the 
 " Colpo del Tancredi," " Tancred's lunge," from the sup 
 posed name of its inventor. It is now no longer per 
 mitted in duelling. But the deadly thrust loses half its 
 danger against a left-handed man. The foil grazed the 
 flesh on Giovanni's left side, and the blood again stained 
 his white shirt. In the moment when Del Ferice slipped, 
 Giovanni had made a straight and deadly lunge at his 
 body, and the sword, instead of passing through Ugo's 
 lungs, ran swift and sure through his throat, with such 
 force that the iron guard struck the falling man's jaw 
 with tremendous impetus, before the oath the old Prince 
 had uttered was fairly out of his mouth. 
 
 Seconds and witnesses and surgeons sprang forward 
 hastily. Del Ferice lay upon his side ; he had fallen so 
 heavily and suddenly as to wrench the sword from Gio 
 vanni's grip. The old Prince gave one look, and dragged 
 his son away. 
 
 " He is as dead as a stone," he muttered, with a savage 
 gleam in his eyes. 
 
 Giovanni hastily began to dress, without paying any 
 attention to the fresh wound he had received in the last 
 
160 SARACINESCA. 
 
 encounter. In the general excitement, his surgeon had 
 joined the group about the 'fallen man. Before Giovanni 
 had got his overcoat on he came back with Spicca, who 
 looked crestfallen and disappointed. 
 
 "He is not dead at all," said the surgeon. "You did 
 the thing with a master's hand you ran his throat through 
 without touching the jugular artery or the spine." 
 
 " Does he want to go on ? " asked Giovanni, so savagely 
 that the three men stared at him. 
 
 "Do not be so bloodthirsty, Giovannino," said the old 
 Prince, reproachfully. 
 
 " I should be justified in going back and killing him as 
 he lies there," said the younger Saracinesca, fiercely. 
 " He nearly murdered me twice this morning." 
 
 " That is true," said the Prince, " the dastardly brute ! " 
 
 " By the bye," said Spicca, lighting a cigarette, " I am 
 afraid I have deprived you of the pleasure of dealing 
 with the man who called himself Del Ferice's second. 
 I just took the opportunity of having a moment's private 
 conversation with him we disagreed a little." 
 
 " Oh, very well," growled the Prince ; " as you please. 
 I daresay I shall have enough to do in taking care of Gio 
 vanni to-morrow. That is a villanous bad scratch on his 
 arm." 
 
 " Bah ! it is nothing to mention, save for the foul way 
 it was given," said Giovanni between his teeth. 
 
 Once more old Saracinesca and Spicca crossed the 
 ground. There was a word of formality exchanged, to 
 the effect that both combatants were* satisfied, and then 
 Giovanni and his party moved off, Spicca carrying his 
 green bag of foils under his arm, and puffing clouds of 
 smoke into the damp morning air. They had been nearly 
 an hour on the ground, and were chilled with cold, and 
 exhausted for want of sleep. They entered their car 
 riage and drove rapidly homewards. 
 
 " Come in and breakfast with us," said the old Prince 
 to Spicca, as they reached the Palazzo Saracinesca, 
 
 "Thank you, no," answered the melancholy man. "I 
 
SARACINESCA. 161 
 
 have much to do, as I shall go to Paris to-morrow morn 
 ing by the ten o'clock train. Can I do anything for you 
 there ? I shall be absent some months." 
 
 "I thought you were going to fight to-morrow," 
 objected the Prince. 
 
 " Exactly. It will be convenient for me to leave- the 
 country immediately afterwards." 
 
 The old man shuddered. With all his fierce blood and 
 headstrong passion, he could not comprehend the fearful 
 calm of this strange man, whose skill was such that he 
 regarded his adversary's death as a matter of course 
 whenever he so pleased. As for Giovanni, he was still so 
 angry that he cared little for the issue of the second duel. 
 
 " I am sincerely grateful for your kind offices," he said, 
 as Spicca took leave of him. 
 
 " You shall be amply revenged of the two attempts to 
 murder you," said Spicca, quietl^ ; and so, having shaken 
 hands with all, he again entered the carriage. It was the 
 last they saw of him for a long time. He faithfully ful 
 filled his programme. He met Casalverde on the follow 
 ing morning at seven o'clock, and at precisely a quarter 
 past, he left him dead on the field. He breakfasted with 
 his seconds at half-past eight, and left Rome with them 
 for Paris at ten o'clock. He had selected two French 
 officers who were about to return to their home, in order 
 not to inconvenience any of his friends by obliging them 
 to leave the country ; which showed that, even in mo 
 ments of great excitement, Count Spicca was thoughtful 
 of others. 
 
 When the surgeon had dressed Giovanni's wounds, he 
 left the father and son together. Giovanni lay upon a 
 couch in his own sitting-room, eating his breakfast as 
 best he could with one hand. The old Prince paced the 
 floor, commenting from time to time upon the events of 
 the morning. 
 
 " It is just as well that you did not kill him, Giovan- 
 nino," he remarked ; " it would have been a nuisance to 
 have been obliged to go away just now." 
 
162 SAKACESTESCA. 
 
 Giovanni did not answer. 
 
 " Of course, duelling is a great sin, and is strictly for 
 bidden by our religion," said the Prince suddenly. " But 
 then " 
 
 "Precisely," returned Giovanni. "We nevertheless 
 cannot always help ourselves." 
 
 " I was going to say," continued his father, " that it is, 
 of course, very wicked, and if one is killed in a duel, one 
 probably goes straight into hell. But then it was worth 
 something to see how you sent that fellow's foil flying 
 through the window ! " 
 
 " It is a very simple trick. If you will take a foil, I 
 will teach it to you." 
 
 "Presently, presently; when you have finished your 
 breakfast. Tell me, why did you say, 'more broken 
 glass > ? " 
 
 Giovanni bit his lip, remembering his imprudence. 
 
 " I hardly know. I believe it suggested something to 
 my mind. One says all sorts of foolish things in mo 
 ments of excitement." 
 
 "It struck me as a very odd remark," answered the 
 Prince, still walking about. "By the bye," he added, 
 pausing before the writing-table, " here is that letter you 
 wrote for me. Do you want me to read it ? " 
 
 " No," said Giovanni, with a laugh. " It is of no use 
 now. It would seem absurd, since I am alive and well. 
 It was only a word of farewell." 
 
 The Prince laughed too, and threw the sealed letter 
 into the fire. 
 
 " The last of the Saracinesca is not dead yet," he said. 
 " Giovanni, what are we to say to the gossips ? All Rome 
 will be ringing with this affair before night. Of course, you 
 must stay at home for a few days, or you will catch cold in 
 your arm. I will go out and carry the news of our victory." 
 
 " Better to say nothing about it better to refer people 
 to Del Eerice, and tell them he challenged me. Come 
 in ! " cried Giovanni, in answer to a knock at the door. 
 Pasquale, the old butler, entered the room. 
 
SARACINESCA. 163 
 
 " The Duca d' Astrardente has sent to inquire after the 
 health of his Excellency Don Giovanni," said the old 
 man, respectfully. 
 
 The elder Saracinesca paused in his walk, and broke 
 out into a loud laugh. 
 
 " Already ! You see, Giovannino," he said. " Tell him, 
 Pasquale, that Don Giovanni caught a severe cold at the 
 ball last night or no wait ! What shall we say, Gio- 
 vannino ? " 
 
 "Tell the servant," said Giovanni, sternly, "that I 
 am much obliged for the kind inquiry, that I am perfectly 
 well, and that you have just seen me eating my breakfast." 
 
 Pasquale bowed and left the room. 
 
 "I suppose you do not want her to know " said 
 
 the Prince, who had suddenly recovered his gravity. 
 
 Giovanni bowed his head silently. 
 
 " Quite right, my boy," said the old man, gravely. "I 
 do not want to know anything about it either. How the 
 devil could they have found out ? " 
 
 The question was addressed more to himself than to his 
 son, and the latter volunteered no answer. He was grate 
 ful to his father for his considerate silence. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 When Astrardente saw the elder Saracinesca's face 
 during his short interview with the diplomatist, his curi 
 osity was immediately aroused. He perceived that there 
 was something the matter, and he proceeded to try and 
 ascertain the circumstances from his acquaintance. The 
 ambassador returned to his pdte and his champagne with 
 an air of amused interest, but vouchsafed no information 
 whatever. 
 
 "What a singularly amusing fellow old Saracinesca is ! " 
 remarked Astrardente. 
 
164 SARACINESCA. 
 
 " When he likes to be,' 7 returned his Excellency, with 
 his mouth full. 
 
 " On the contrary when he least meditates it. I never 
 knew a man better suited for a successful caricature. 
 Indeed he is not a bad caricature of his own son, or his 
 own son of him I am not sure which." 
 
 The ambassador laughed a little and took a large 
 mouthful. 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! very good," he mumbled as he ate. " He 
 would appreciate that. He loves his own race. He 
 would rather feel that he is a comic misrepresentation of 
 the most hideous Saracinesca who ever lived, than possess 
 all the beauty of the Astrardente and be called by another 
 name." 
 
 The diplomatist paused for a secondr after this speech, 
 and then bowed a little to the Duchessa ; but the hit had 
 touched her husband in a sensitive spot. The old dandy 
 had been handsome once, in a certain way, and he did 
 his best, by artificial means, to preserve some trace of his 
 good looks. The Duchessa smiled faintly. 
 
 " I would wager," said Astrardente, sourly, " that his 
 excited manner just now was due to one of two things 
 either his vanity or his money is in danger. As for the 
 way he yelled after Spicca, it looked as though there were 
 a duel in the air fancy the old fellow fighting a duel! 
 Too ridiculous ! " 
 
 " A duel ! " repeated Corona in a low voice. 
 
 " I do not see anything so very ridiculous in it," said 
 the diplomatist, slowly twisting his glass of champagne 
 in his fingers, and then sipping it. "Besides," he added 
 deliberately, glancing at the Duchessa from the corner of 
 his eyes, " he has a son." 
 
 Corona started very slightly. 
 
 " Why should there be a duel ? " she asked. 
 
 "It was your husband who suggested the idea," returned 
 the diplomatist. 
 
 " But you said there was nothing ridiculous in it," ob 
 jected the Duchessa. 
 
SAKACINESCA. 165 
 
 " But I did not say there was any truth in it, either," 
 answered his Excellency with a reassuring smile. " What 
 made you think of duelling ? " he asked, turning to Astrar- 
 dente. 
 
 " Spicca," said the latter. " Wherever Spicca is con 
 cerned there is a duel. He is a terrible fellow, with his 
 death's-head and dangling bones one of those extraor 
 dinary phenomena bah ! it makes one shiver to think of 
 him ! " The old fellow made the sign of the horns with 
 his forefinger and little finger, hiding his thumb in the 
 palm of his hand, as though to protect himself against 
 the evil eye the sinister influence invoked by the men 
 tion of Spicca. Old Astrardente was very superstitious. 
 The ambassador laughed, and even Corona smiled a little. 
 
 " Yes," said the diplomatist, " Spicca is a living me 
 mento mori; he occasionally reminds men of death by 
 killing them." 
 
 " How horrible ! " exclaimed Corona. 
 
 " Ah, my dear lady, the world is full of horrible things." 
 
 " That is not a reason for making jests of them." 
 
 "It is better to make light of the inevitable," said 
 Astrardente. " Are you ready to go home, my dear ? " 
 
 "Quite I was only waiting for you," answered Corona, 
 who longed to be at home and alone. 
 
 " Let me know the result of old Saracinesca's warlike 
 undertakings," said Astrardente, with a cunning smile 
 on his painted face. " Of course, as he consulted you, he 
 will send you word in the morning." 
 
 " You seem so anxious that there should be a duel, that 
 I should almost be tempted to invent an account of one, 
 lest you should be too grievously disappointed," returned 
 the diplomatist. 
 
 " You know very well that no invention will be neces 
 sary," said the Duca, pressing him, for his curiosity was 
 roused. 
 
 "Well as you please to consider it. Good night," 
 replied the ambassador. It had amused him to annoy 
 
 Astrardente a little, and he left him with the pleasant 
 Vol. 108 
 
166 SARACINESCA. 
 
 consciousness of having excited the inquisitive faculty of 
 his friend to its highest pitch, without giving it anything 
 to feed upon. 
 
 Men who have to do with men, rather than with things, 
 frequently take a profound and seemingly cruel delight 
 in playing upon the feelings and petty vanities of their 
 fellow-creatures. The habit is as strong with them as 
 the constant practice of conjuring becomes with a jug 
 gler ; even when he is not performing, he will for hours 
 pass coins, perform little tricks of sleight-of-hand with 
 cards, or toss balls in the air in marvellously rapid suc 
 cession, unable to lay aside his profession even for a day, 
 because it has grown to be the only natural expression of 
 his faculties. With men whose business it is to under 
 stand other men, it is the same. They cannot be in a 
 man's company for a quarter of an hour without attempt 
 ing to discover the peculiar weaknesses of his character 
 his vanities, his tastes, his vices, his curiosity, his love 
 of money or of reputation ; so that the operation of such 
 men's minds may be compared to the process of auscul 
 tation for their ears are always upon their neighbours' 
 hearts and their conversation to the percutations of a 
 physician to ascertain the seat of disease in a pair of 
 consumptive lungs. 
 
 But, with all his failings, Astrardente was a man of 
 considerable acuteness of moral vision. He had made a 
 shrewd guess at Saracinesca's business, and had further 
 gathered from a remark dropped by his diplomatic friend, 
 that if there was to be a duel at all, it would be fought 
 by Giovanni. As a matter of fact, the ambassador him 
 self knew nothing certainly concerning the matter, or it 
 is possible that, for the sake of observing the effect of 
 the news upon the Duchessa, he would have told the whole 
 truth ; for he had of course heard the current gossip con 
 cerning Giovanni's passion for her, and the experiment 
 would have been too attractive and interesting to be 
 missed. As it was, she had started at the mention of 
 Saracinesca's son. The diplomatist only did what every 
 
SABACINESCA. 167 
 
 one else who came near Corona attempted to do at that 
 time, in endeavouring to ascertain whether she herself 
 entertained any feeling for the man whom the gossips 
 had set down as her most devoted admirer. 
 
 Poor Duchessa ! It was no wonder that she had 
 started at the idea that Giovanni was in trouble. He had 
 played a great part in her life that day, and she could 
 not forget him. She had hardly as yet had time to think 
 of what she felt, for it was only by a supreme effort that 
 she had been able to bear the great strain upon her 
 strength. If she had not loved him, it would have been 
 different ; and in the strange medley of emotions through 
 which she was passing, she wished that she might never 
 have loved that, loving, she might be allowed wholly 
 to' forget her love, and to return by some sudden miracle 
 to that cold dreamy state of indifference to all other men, 
 and of unfailing thoughtfulness for her husband, from 
 which she had been so cruelly awakened. She would 
 have given anything to have not loved, now that the 
 great struggle was over ; but until the supreme moment 
 had come, she had not been willing to put the dangerous 
 thought from her, saving in those hours of prayer and 
 solitary suffering, when the whole truth rose up clearly 
 before her in its undisguised nakedness. So soon as she 
 had gone into the world, she had recklessly longed for 
 Giovanni Saracinesca's presence. 
 
 But now it was all changed. She had not deceived 
 herself when she had told him that she would rather not 
 see him any more. It was true ; not only did she wish 
 not to see him, but she earnestly desired that the love of 
 him might pass from her heart. With a sudden longing, 
 her thoughts went back to the old convent-life of her 
 girlhood, with its regular occupations, its constant re 
 ligious exercises, its narrowness of view, and its unchang 
 ing simplicity. What mattered narrowness, when all 
 beyond that close limitation was filled with evil ? Was 
 it not better that the lips should be busy with singing 
 litanies than that the heart should be tormented by 
 
168 SAEACINESCA. 
 
 temptation? Were not those simple tasks, that had 
 seemed so all-important then, more sweet in the perform 
 ance than the manifold duties of this complicated social 
 existence, this vast web and woof of life's loom, this 
 great machinery that worked and groaned and rolled end 
 lessly upon its wheels without producing any more result 
 than the ceaseless turning of a prison treadmill ? But 
 there was no way out of life now ; there was no escape, 
 as there was also no prospect of relief, from care and 
 anxiety. There was no reason why Giovanni should go 
 away no reason either why Corona should ever love 
 him less. She belonged to a class of women, if there are 
 enough of them to be called a class, who, where love is 
 concerned, can feel but one impression, which becomes in 
 their hearts the distinctive seal and mark of their lives, 
 for good or for evil. Corona was indeed so loyal and 
 good a woman, that the strong pressure of her love could 
 not abase her nobility, nor put untruth where all was so 
 true ; but the sign of her love for Giovanni was upon 
 her for ever. The vacant place in her heart had been 
 filled, and filled wholly ; the bulwark she had reared 
 against the love of man was broken down and swept 
 away, and the waters flowed softly over its place and 
 remembered it not. She would never be the same woman 
 again, and it was bitter to her to feel it : for ever the 
 face of Giovanni would haunt her waking hours and 
 visit her dreams unbidden, a perpetual reproach to her, 
 a perpetual memory of the most desperate struggle of 
 her life, and more than a memory the undying present 
 of an unchanging love. 
 
 She was quite sure of herself in future, as she also 
 trusted sincerely in Giovanni's promise. There should be 
 no moment of weakness, no word should ever fall from her 
 lips to tempt him to a fresh outbreak of passionate words 
 and acts ; her life should be measured in the future by the 
 account of the dangers past, and there should be no instant 
 of unguarded conduct, no hour wherein even to herself 
 she would say it was sweet to love and to be loved. It 
 
SAKACINESCA. 169 
 
 was indeed not sweet, but bitter as death itself, to feel 
 that weight at her heart, that constant toiling effort in 
 her mind to keep down the passion in her breast. But 
 Corona had sacrificed much ; she would sacrifice this also ; 
 she would get strength by her prayers and courage from 
 her high pride, and she would smile to all the world as 
 she had never smiled before. She could trust herself, for 
 she was doing the right and trampling upon the wrong. 
 But the suffering would be none the less for all her pride ; 
 there was no concealing it it would be horrible. To 
 meet him daily in the world, to speak to him and to hear 
 his voice, perhaps to touch his hand, and all the while to 
 smile coldly, and to be still and for ever above suspicion, 
 while her own burning consciousness accused her of the 
 past, and seemed to make the dangers of mere living yawn 
 beside her path at every step, all this would be terrible 
 to bear, but by God's help she would bear it to the end. 
 
 But now a new horror seized her, and terrified her 
 beyond measure. This rumour of a duel a mere word 
 dropped carelessly in conversation by a thoughtless ac 
 quaintance called up to her sudden visions of evil to 
 come. Surely, howsoever she might struggle against love 
 and beat it roughly to silence in her breast, it was not 
 wrong to fear danger for Giovanni, it could not be a sin 
 to dread the issue of peril when it was all so very near to 
 her. It might perhaps not be true, for people in the world 
 are willing to amuse their empty minds with empty tales, 
 acknowledging the emptiness. It could not be true ; she 
 had seen Giovanni but a moment before he would have 
 given some hint, some sign. 
 
 Why after all ? Was it not the boast of such men 
 that they could face the world and wear an indifferent 
 look, at times of the greatest anxiety and danger ? But, 
 again, if Giovanni had been involved in a quarrel so 
 serious as to require the arbitrament of blood, some 
 rumour of it would have reached her. She had talked 
 with many men that night, and with some women 
 gossips all, whose tongues wagged merrily over the troubles 
 
170 SARACINESCA. 
 
 of friend or foe, and who would have battened upon any 
 thing so novel as a society duel, as a herd of jackals upon 
 the dead body of one of their fellows, to make their feast 
 off it with a light heart. Some one of all these would 
 have told her; the quarrel would have been common 
 property in half an hour, for somebody must have wit 
 nessed it. 
 
 It was a consolation to Corona to reflect upon the 
 extreme improbability of the story ; for when the diplo 
 matist was gone, her husband dwelt upon it whether 
 because he could not conceal his unsatisfied curiosity, or 
 from other motives, it was hard to tell. 
 
 Astrardente led his wife from the supper-table through 
 the great rooms, now almost deserted, and past the wide 
 doors of the hall where the cotillon was at its height. 
 They paused a moment and looked in, as Giovanni had 
 done a quarter of an hour earlier. It was a magnificent 
 scene; the lights flashed back from the jewels of fair 
 women, and surged in the dance as starlight upon rippling 
 waves. The air was heavy with the odour of the countless 
 flowers that filled the deep recesses of the windows, and 
 were distributed in hundreds of nosegays for the figures 
 of the cotillon ; enchanting strains of waltz music seemed 
 to float down from above and inspire the crowd of men and 
 women with harmonious motion, so that sound was made 
 visible by translation into graceful movement. As Corona 
 looked there was a pause, and the crowd parted, while a 
 huge tiger, the heraldic beast of the Frangipani family, 
 was drawn into the hall by the young prince and Bianca 
 Valdarno. The magnificent skin had been so artfully 
 stuffed as to convey a startling impression of life, and in 
 the creature's huge jaws hung a great basket filled with 
 tiny tigers, which were to be distributed as badges for the 
 dance by the leaders. A wild burst of applause greeted 
 this novel figure, and every one ran forward to obtain a 
 nearer view. 
 
 " Ah ! " exclaimed old Astrardente, " I envy them that 
 invention, my dear j it is perfectly magnificent. You must 
 
SABACINESCA. 171 
 
 have a tiger to take home. How fortunate we were to be 
 in time ! " He forced his way into the crowd, leaving his 
 wife alone for a moment by the door ; and he managed to 
 catch Valdarno, who was distributing the little emblems to 
 right and left. Madame Mayer's quick eyes had caught 
 sight of Corona and her husband, and from some instinct 
 of curiosity she made towards the Duchessa. She was 
 still angry, as she had never been in her short life, at 
 Giovanni's rudeness in forgetting her dance, and she longed 
 to inflict some wound upon the beautiful woman who had 
 led him into such forgetfulness. When Astrardente left 
 his wife's side, Donna Tullia pressed forward with her 
 partner in the general confusion that followed upon the 
 entrance of the tiger, and she managed to pass close to 
 Corona. She looked up suddenly with an air of surprise. 
 
 " What ! not dancing, Duchessa ? " she asked. " Has 
 your partner gone home ? " 
 
 With the look that accompanied the question, it was 
 an insulting speech enough. Had Donna Tullia seen old 
 Astrardente close behind her, she would not have made it. 
 The old dandy was returning in triumph in possession of 
 the little tiger-badge for Corona. He heard the words, 
 and observed with inward pleasure his wife's calm look of 
 indifference. 
 
 "Madam," he said, placing himself suddenly in Madame 
 Mayer's way, " my wife's partners do not go home while 
 she remains." 
 
 " Oh, I see," returned Donna Tullia, flushing quickly ; 
 " the Duchessa is dancing the cotillon with you. I beg 
 your pardon I had forgotten that you still danced." 
 
 " Indeed it is long since I did myself the honour of 
 asking you for a quadrille, madam," answered Astrardente 
 with a polite smile ; and so saying, he turned and pre 
 sented the little tiger to his wife with a courtly bow. 
 There was good blood in the old rou6. 
 
 Corona was touched by his thoughtfulness in wishing 
 to get her the little keepsake of the dance, and she was 
 still more affected by his ready defence of her. He was 
 
172 SARACINESCA. 
 
 indeed sometimes a little ridiculous, with his paint and 
 his artificial smile he was often petulant and unreason 
 able in little things ; but he was never unkind to her, nor 
 discourteous. In spite of her cold and indifferent stare 
 at Donna Tullia, she had keenly felt the insult, and she 
 was grateful to the old man for taking her part. Know 
 ing what she knew of herself that night, she was deeply 
 sensible to his kindness. She took the little gift, and 
 laid her hand upon his arm. 
 
 " Forgive me," she said, as they moved away, " if I am 
 ever ungrateful to you. You are so very good to me. I 
 know no one so courteous and kind as you are." 
 
 Her husband looked at her in delight. He loved her 
 sincerely with all that remained of him. There was some 
 thing sad in the thought of a man like him rinding the 
 only real passion of his life when worn out with age and 
 dissipation. Her little speech raised him to the seventh 
 heaven of joy. 
 
 " I am the happiest man in all Kome," he said, assum 
 ing his most jaunty walk, and swinging his hat gaily 
 between his thumb and finger. But a current of deep 
 thought was stirring in him as he went down the broad 
 staircase by his wife's side. He was thinking what life 
 might have been to him had he found Corona del Carmine 
 how could he ? she was not born then had he found 
 her, or her counterpart, thirty years ago. He was won 
 dering what conceivable sacrifice there could be which he 
 would not make to regain his youth even to have his 
 life lived out and behind him, if he could only have looked 
 back to thirty years of marriage with Corona. How dif 
 ferently he would have lived, how very differently he 
 would have thought ! how his whole memory would be 
 full of the sweet past, and would be common with her 
 own past life, which, to her too, would be sweet to ponder 
 on ! He would have been such a good man so true to her 
 in all those years ! But they were gone, and he had not 
 found her until his foot was on the edge of the grave 
 until he could hardly count on one year more of a pitiful 
 
S AK ACINESC A. 173 
 
 artificial life, painted, bewigged, stuffed to the semblance 
 of a man by a clever tailor and she in the bloom of her 
 glory beside him ! What he would have given to have 
 old Saracinesca's strength and fresh vitality old Sara- 
 cinesca whom he hated ! Yes, with all that hair it was 
 white, but a little dye would change it. What was a 
 little dye compared with the profound artificiality of 
 his own outer man ? How the old fellow's deep voice 
 rang, loud and clear, from his broad chest ! How strong 
 he was, with his firm step, and his broad brown hands, 
 and his fiery black eyes ! He hated him for the green- 
 ness of his age he hated him for his stalwart son, an 
 other of those long-lived fierce Saracinesca, who seemed 
 destined to outlive time. He himself had no children, no 
 relations, no one to bear his name he had only a beau 
 tiful young wife and much wealth, with just enough 
 strength left to affect a gay walk when he was with her, 
 and to totter unsteadily to his couch when he was alone, 
 worn out with the effort of trying to seem young. 
 
 As they sat in their carriage he thought bitterly of all 
 these things, and never spoke. Corona herself was weary, 
 and glad to be silent. They went up-stairs, and as she 
 took his arm, she gently tried to help him rather than be 
 helped. He noticed it, and made an effort, but he was 
 very tired. He paused upon the landing, and looked at 
 her, and a gentle and sad smile stole over his face, such 
 as Corona had never seen there. 
 
 " Shall we go into your boudoir for ten minutes, my 
 love ? " he said j " or will you come into my smoking- 
 room? I would like to smoke a little before going to 
 bed." 
 
 "You may smoke in my boudoir, of course," she an 
 swered kindly, though she was surprised at the request. 
 It was half-past three o'clock. They went into the softly 
 lighted little room, where the embers of the fire were still 
 glowing upon the hearth. Corona dropped her furs upon 
 a chair, and sat down upon one side of the chimneypiece. 
 Astrardente sank wearily into a deep easy-chair opposite 
 
174 SAKACINBSCA. 
 
 her, and having found a cigarette, lighted it, and began 
 to smoke. He seemed in a mood which Corona had never 
 seen. After a short silence he spoke. 
 
 " Corona," he said, " I love you." His wife looked up 
 with a gentle smile, and in her determination to be loyal 
 to him she almost forgot that other man who had said 
 those words but two hours before, so differently. 
 
 4t Yes," he said, with a sigh, "you have heard it before 
 it is not new to you. I think you believe it. You are 
 good, but you do not love me no, do not interrupt me, 
 my dear ; I know what you would say. How should you 
 love me ? I am an old man very old, older than my 
 years." Again he sighed, more bitterly, as he confessed 
 what he had never owned before. The Duchessa was too 
 much astonished to answer him. 
 
 " Corona," he said again, " I shall not live much longer." 
 
 " Ah, do not speak like that," she cried suddenly. " I 
 trust and pray that you have yet many years to live." 
 Her husband looked keenly at her. 
 
 " You are so good," he answered, " that you are really 
 capable of uttering such a prayer, absurd as it would 
 seem." 
 
 " Why absurd ? It is unkind of you to say it " 
 
 " No, my dear ; I know the world very well. That is 
 all. I suppose it is impossible for me to make you 
 understand how I love you. It must seem incredible to 
 you, in the magnificence of your strength and beautiful 
 youth, that a man like me an artificial man" he 
 laughed scornfully "a creature of paint and dye let 
 me be honest a creature with a wig, should be capable 
 of a mad passion. And yet, Corona," he added, his thin 
 cracked voice trembling with a real emotion, " I do love 
 you very dearly. There are two things that make my 
 life bitter : the regret that I did not meet you, that you 
 were not born, when I was young ; and worse than that, 
 the knowledge that I must leave you very soon I, the 
 exhausted dandy, the shadow of what I was, tottering to 
 my grave in a last vain effort to be young for your sake 
 
SABACINESCA. 175 
 
 for your sake, Corona dear. Ah, it is contemptible ! " 
 he almost moaned. 
 
 Corona hid her eyes in her hand. She was taken off 
 her guard by his strange speech. 
 
 " Oh, do not speak like that do not ! " she cried. 
 " You make me very unhappy. Do I reproach you ? Do 
 I ever make you feel that you are older- than I ? I 
 will lead a new life ; you shall never think of it again. 
 You are too kind too good for me." 
 
 " No one ever said I was too good before," replied the 
 old man with a shade of sadness. " I am glad the one 
 person who finds me good, should be the only one for 
 whose sake I ever cultivated goodness. I could have 
 been different, Corona, if I had had you for my wife for 
 thirty years, instead of five. But it is too late now. 
 Before long I shall be dead, and you will be free." 
 
 " What makes you say such things to me ? " asked 
 Corona. " Can you think I am so vile, so ungrateful, so 
 unloving, as to wish your death ? " 
 
 "Not unloving; no, my dear child. But not loving, 
 either. I do not ask impossibilities. You will mourn 
 for me a while my poor soul will rest in peace if you 
 feel one moment of real regret for me, for your old hus 
 band, before you take another. Do not cry, Corona, 
 dearest ; it is the way of the world. We waste our youth 
 in scoffing at reality, and in the unrealness of our old 
 age the present no longer avails us much. You know 
 me, perhaps you despise me. You would not have 
 scorned me when I was young oh, how young I was ! 
 how strong and vain of my youth, thirty years ago ! " 
 
 "Indeed, indeed, no such thought ever crossed my 
 mind. I give you all I have," cried Corona, in great 
 distress ; " I will give you more I will devote my whole 
 life to you " 
 
 " You do, my dear. I am sensible of it," said Astrar- 
 dente, quietly. " You cannot do more, if you will ; you 
 cannot make me young again, nor take away the bitter 
 ness of death of a death that leaves you behind." 
 
176 SABACINESCA. 
 
 Corona leaned forward, staring into the dying embers 
 of the fire, one hand supporting her chin. The tears 
 stood in her eyes and on her cheeks. The old dandy in 
 his genuine misery had excited her compassion. 
 
 " I would mourn you long," she said. " You may have 
 wasted your life ; you say so. I would love you more if 
 I could, God knows. You have always been to me a 
 courteous gentleman and a faithful husband." 
 
 The old man rose with difficulty from his deep chair, 
 and came and stood by her, and took the hand that lay idle 
 on her knees. She looked up at him. 
 
 " If I thought my blessing were worth anything, I would 
 bless you for what you say. But I would not have you 
 waste your youth. Youth is that which, being wasted, 
 is like water poured out upon the ground. You must 
 marry again, and marry soon do not start. You will 
 inherit all my fortune ; you will have my title. It must 
 descend to your children. It has come to an unworthy 
 end in me ; it must be revived in you." 
 
 " How can you think of it ? Are you ill ? " asked 
 Corona kindly, pressing gently his thin hand in hers. 
 " Why do you dwell on the idea of death to-night ? " 
 
 "I am ill; yes, past all cure, my dear," said the old 
 man, gently raising her hand to his lips, and kissing it. 
 
 " What do you mean ? " asked Corona, suddenly rising 
 to her feet and laying her hand affectionately upon his 
 shoulder. " Why have you never told me ? " 
 
 " Why should I tell you except that it is near, and 
 you must be prepared ? Why should I burden you with 
 anxiety ? But you were so gentle and kind to-night, upon 
 the stairs," he said, with some hesitation, " that I thought 
 perhaps it would be a relief to you to know to know that 
 it is not for long." 
 
 There was something so gentle in his tone, so infinitely 
 pathetic in his thought that possibly he might lighten the 
 burden his wife bore so bravely, there was something at 
 last so human in the loving regret with which he spoke, 
 that Corona forgot all his foolish ways, his wig and his 
 
SARACINESCA. 177 
 
 false teeth and his petty vanities, and letting her head fall 
 upon his shoulder, burst into passionate tears. 
 
 " Oh no, no ! " she sobbed. " It must be a long time 
 yet ; you must not die ! " 
 
 " It may be a year, not more," he said gently. " God 
 bless you for those tears, Corona the tears you have shed 
 for me. Good night, my dearest." 
 
 He let her sink upon her chair, and his hand rested 
 for one moment upon her raven hair. Then with a last 
 remnant of energy he quickly left the room. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Such affairs as the encounter between Giovanni and Del 
 Ferice were very rare in Rome. There were many duels 
 fought ; but, as a general rule, they were not very serious, 
 and the first slight wound decided the matter in hand to 
 the satisfaction of both parties. But here there had been 
 a fight for life and death. One of the combatants had 
 received two such wounds as would have been sufficient to 
 terminate an ordinary meeting, and the other was lying 
 at death's door stabbed through the throat. Society was 
 frantic with excitement. Giovanni was visited by scores 
 of acquaintances, whom he allowed to be admitted, and he 
 talked with them cheerfully, in order to have it thoroughly 
 known that he was not badly hurt. Del Ferice's lodging 
 was besieged by the same young gentlemen of leisure, who 
 went directly from one to the other, anxious to get all the 
 news in their power. But Del Ferice's door was guarded 
 jealously from intruders by his faithful Neapolitan ser 
 vant a fellow who knew more about his master than all 
 the rest of Rome together, but who had such a dazzlingly 
 brilliant talent for lying as to make him a safe repository 
 for any secret committed to his keeping. On the present 
 occasion, however, he had small use for duplicity. He 
 
178 SARACINESCA. 
 
 sat all day long by the open door, for he had removed the 
 bell-handle, lest the ringing should disturb his master. 
 He had a basket into which he dropped the cards of the 
 visitors who called, answering each inquiry with the 
 same unchanging words : 
 
 " He is very ill, the signorino. Do not make any noise." 
 
 " Where is he hurt ? " the visitor would ask. Where 
 upon Temistocle pointed to his throat. 
 
 " Will he live ? " was the next question ; to which the 
 man answered by raising his shoulders to his ears, elevat 
 ing his eyebrows, and at the same time shutting his eyes, 
 while he spread out the palms of his hands over his basket 
 of cards whereby he meant to signify that he did not 
 know, but doubted greatly. It being impossible to extract 
 any further information from him, the visitor had noth 
 ing left but to leave his card and turn away. Within, 
 the wounded man was watched by a Sister of Mercy. 
 The surgeon had pronounced his recovery probable if he 
 had proper care : the wound was a dangerous one, but not 
 likely to prove mortal unless the patient died of the fever 
 or of exhaustion. 
 
 The young gentlemen of leisure who thus obtained the 
 news of the two duellists, lost no time in carrying it from 
 house to house. Giovanni himself sent twice in the course 
 of the day to inquire after his antagonist, and received by 
 his servant the answer which was given to everybody. 
 By the time the early winter night was descending upon 
 Kome, there were two perfectly well-authenticated stories 
 circulated in regard to the cause of the quarrel neither 
 of which, of course, contained a grain of truth. In the 
 first place, it was confidently asserted by one party, repre 
 sented by Valdarno and his set, that Giovanni had taken 
 offence at Del Ferice for having proposed to call him to 
 be examined before the Duchessa d'Astrardente in regard 
 to his absence from town : that this was a palpable excuse 
 for picking a quarrel, because it was well known that Sar- 
 acinesca loved the Astrardente, and that Del Ferice was 
 always in his way. 
 
SAEACINESCA. 179 
 
 "Giovanni is a rough fellow/ 7 remarked Valdarno, "and 
 will not stand any opposition, so he took the first oppor 
 tunity of getting the man out of the way. Do you see ? 
 The old story jealous of the wrong man. Can one be 
 jealous of Del Ferice ? Bah ! " 
 
 " And who would have- been the right man to attack ? " 
 was asked. 
 
 "Her husband, of course," returned Valdarno with a 
 sneer. " That angel of beauty has the ineffably eccentric 
 idea that she loves that old transparency, that old magic- 
 lantern slide of a man ! " 
 
 On the other hand, there was a party of people who 
 affirmed, as beyond all doubt, that the duel had been 
 brought about by Giovanni's forgetting his dance with 
 Donna Tullia. Del Ferice was naturally willing to put 
 himself forward in her defence, reckoning on the favour 
 he would gain in her eyes. He had spoken sharply to 
 Giovanni about it, and told him he had behaved in an un- 
 gentlemanly manner whereupon Giovanni had answered 
 that it was none of his business ; an altercation had ensued 
 in a remote room in the Frangipani palace, and Giovanni 
 had lost his temper and taken Del Ferice by the throat, 
 and otherwise greatly insulted him. The result had been 
 the duel in which Del Ferice had been nearly killed. 
 There was a show of truth about this story, and it was 
 told in such a manner as to make Del Ferice appear as 
 the injured party. Indeed, whichever tale were true, 
 there was no doubt that the two men had disliked each 
 other for a long time, and that they were both looking 
 out for the opportunity of an open disagreement. 
 
 Old Saracinesca appeared in the afternoon, and was sur 
 rounded by eager questioners of all sorts. The fact of his 
 having served his own son in the capacity of second ex 
 cited general astonishment. Such a thing had not been 
 heard of in the annals of Koman society, and many an 
 cient wisdom-mongers severely censured the course he 
 had pursued. Could anything be more abominably un 
 natural ? Was it possible to conceive of the hard-heart- 
 
180 SARACINESCA. 
 
 edness of a man who could stand quietly and see his son 
 risk his life ? Disgraceful ! 
 
 The old Prince either would not tell what he knew, or 
 had no information to give. The latter theory was im 
 probable. Some one made a remark to that effect. 
 
 " But, Prince," the man said, " would you second your 
 own son in an affair without knowing the cause of the 
 quarrel ? " 
 
 " Sir," returned the old man, proudly, " my son asked 
 my assistance; I did not sell it to him for his confidence." 
 People knew the old man's obstinacy, and had to be sat 
 isfied with his short answers, for he was himself as quar 
 relsome as a Berserker or as one of his own irascible 
 ancestors. 
 
 He met Donna Tullia in the street. She stopped her 
 carriage, and beckoned him to come to her. She looked 
 paler than Saracinesca had ever seen her, and was much 
 excited. 
 
 "How could you let them fight?" were her first words. 
 
 "It could not be helped. The quarrel was too serious. 
 No one would more gladly have prevented it than I ; but 
 as my son had so desperately insulted Del Ferice, he was 
 bound to give him satisfaction." 
 
 " Satisfaction ! " cried Donna Tullia. " Do you call it 
 satisfaction to cut a man's throat ? What was the real 
 cause of the quarrel ? " 
 
 " I do not know." 
 
 "Do not tell me that I do not believe you," answered 
 Donna Tullia, angrily. 
 
 " I give you my word of honour that I do not know," 
 returned the Prince. 
 
 " That is different. Will you get in and drive with 
 me for a few minutes ? " 
 
 "At your commands." Saracinesca opened the carriage- 
 door and got in. 
 
 "We shall astonish the world; but I do not care," said 
 Donna Tullia. "Tell me, is Don Giovanni seriously 
 hurt ? " 
 
SAKACINESCA. 181 
 
 " No a couple of scratches that will heal in a week. 
 Del Ferice is very seriously wounded." 
 
 "I know," answered Donna Tullia, sadly. "It is 
 dreadful I am afraid it was my fault." 
 
 " How so ? " asked Saracinesca, quickly. He had not 
 heard the story of the forgotten waltz, and was really 
 ignorant of the original cause of disagreement. He 
 guessed, however, that Donna Tullia was not so much 
 concerned in it as the Duchessa d'Astrardente. 
 
 " Your son was very rude to me," said Madame Mayer. 
 "Perhaps I ought not to tell you, but it is best you should 
 know. He was engaged to dance with me the last waltz 
 but one before the cotillon. He forgot me, and I found 
 him with that with a lady talking quietly." 
 
 " With whom did you say ? " asked Saracinesca, very 
 gravely. 
 
 " With the Astrardente if you will know," returned 
 Donna Tullia, her anger at the memory of the insult 
 bringing the blood suddenly to her face. 
 
 " My dear lady," said the old Prince, " in the name of 
 my son I offer you the humble apologies which he will 
 make in person when he is well enough to ask your for 
 giveness." 
 
 " I do not want apologies," answered Madame Mayer, 
 turning her face away. 
 
 " Nevertheless they shall be offered. But, pardon my 
 curiosity, how did Del Feriee come to be concerned in 
 that incident ? " 
 
 " He was with me when I found Don Giovanni with 
 the Duchessa. It is very simple. I was very angry I 
 am very angry still ; but I would not have had Don 
 Giovanni risk his life on my account for anything, nor 
 poor Del Ferice either. I am horribly upset about it 
 all." 
 
 Old Saracinesca wondered whether Donna Tullia's 
 vanity would suffer if he told her that the duel had not 
 been fought for anything which concerned her. But he 
 reflected that her supposition was very plausible, and 
 
182 SABACINESCA. 
 
 that he himself had no evidence. Furthermore, and in 
 spite of his good-natured treatment of Giovanni, he was 
 very angry at the thought that his son had quarrelled 
 about the Duchessa. When Giovanni should be re 
 covered from his wounds he intended to speak his mind 
 to him. But he was sorry for Donna Tullia, for he liked 
 her in spite of her eccentricities, and would have been 
 satisfied to see her married to his son. He was a practi 
 cal man, and he took a prosaic view of the world. Donna 
 Tullia was rich, and good-looking enough to be called 
 handsome. She had the talent to make herself a sort of 
 centre in her world. She was a little noisy ; but noise 
 was fashionable, and there was no harm in her no one 
 had ever said anything against her. Besides, she was one 
 of the few relations still left to the Saracinesca. The 
 daughter of a cousin of the Prince, she would make a 
 good wife for Giovanni, and would bring sunshine into 
 the house. There was a tinge of vulgarity in her man 
 ner; but, like many elderly men of his type, Saracinesca 
 pardoned her this fault in consideration of her noisy 
 good spirits and general good-nature. He was very much 
 annoyed at hearing that his son had offended her so 
 grossly by his forgetfulness ; especially it was unfortu 
 nate that since she believed herself the cause of the duel, 
 she should have the impression that it had been provoked 
 by Del Ferice to obtain satisfaction for the insult Giovanni 
 had offered -her. There would be small chance of mak 
 ing the match contemplated after such an affair. 
 
 "I am sincerely sorry/ 7 said the Prince, stroking his 
 white beard and trying to get a sight of his companion's 
 face, which she obstinately turned away from him. " Per 
 haps it is better not to think too much of the matter until 
 the exact circumstances are known. Some one is sure to 
 tell the story one of these days." 
 
 " How coldly you speak of it ! One would think it had 
 happened in Peru, instead of here, this very morning." 
 
 Saracinesca was at his wits' end. He wanted to smooth 
 the matter over, or at least to soften the unfavourable im- 
 
SARACINESCA. 183 
 
 pression against G-iovanni. He had not the remotest idea 
 how to do it. He was not a very diplomatic man. 
 
 " No, no j you misunderstand me. I am not cold. I 
 quite appreciate your situation. You are very justly 
 annoyed." 
 
 "Of course I am," said Donna Tullia impatiently. 
 She was beginning to regret that she had made him get 
 into her carriage. 
 
 " Precisely ; of course you are. Now, so soon as Gio 
 vanni is quite recovered, I will send him to explain his 
 conduct to you if he can, or to " 
 
 " Explain it ? How can he explain it ? I do not want 
 you to send him, if he will not come of his own accord. 
 Why should I ? 
 
 " Well, well, as you please, my dear cousin," said old 
 Saracinesca, smiling to cover his perplexity. " I am not 
 a good ambassador ; but you know I am a good friend, 
 and I really want to do something to restore Giovanni to 
 your graces." 
 
 "That will be difficult," answered Donna Tullia, al 
 though she knew very well that she would receive Gio 
 vanni kindly enough when she had once had an opportu 
 nity of speaking her mind to him. 
 
 "Do not be hard-hearted," urged the Prince. "I am 
 sure he is very penitent." 
 
 " Then let him say so." 
 
 " That is exactly what I ask." 
 
 "Is it? Oh, very well. If he chooses to call I will 
 receive him, since you desire it. Where shall I put you 
 down ? " 
 
 "Anywhere, thank you. Here, if you wish at the 
 corner. Good-bye. Do not be too hard on the boy." 
 
 "We shall see," answered Donna Tullia, unwilling to 
 show too much indulgence. The old Prince bowed, and 
 walked away into the gloom of the dusky streets. 
 
 " That is over," he muttered to himself. " I wonder 
 how the Astrardente takes it." He would have liked to 
 see her; but he recognized that, as he so very rarely 
 
184 SARACINESCA. 
 
 called upon her, it would seem strange to choose such a 
 time for his visit. It would not do it would be hardly 
 decent, seeing that he believed her to be the cause of the 
 catastrophe. His steps, however, led him almost uncon 
 sciously in the direction of the Astrardente palace ; he 
 found himself in front of the arched entrance almost be 
 fore he knew where he was. The temptation to see Co 
 rona was more than he could resist. He asked the porter 
 if the Duchessa was at home, and on being answered in 
 the affirmative, he boldly entered and ascended the 
 marble staircase boldly, but with an odd sensation, like 
 that of a schoolboy who is getting himself into trouble. 
 
 Corona had just come home, and was sitting by the fire 
 in her great drawing-room, alone, with a book in her 
 hand, which she was not reading. She rarely remained 
 in the reception-rooms ; but to-day she had rather capri 
 ciously taken a fancy to the broad solitude of the place, 
 and had accordingly installed herself there. She was 
 very much surprised when the doors were suddenly 
 opened wide and the servant announced Prince Sara- 
 cinesca. For a moment she thought it must be Giovanni, 
 for his father rarely entered her house, and when the 
 old man's stalwart figure advanced towards her, she 
 dropped her book in astonishment, and rose from her 
 deep chair to meet him. She was very pale, and there 
 were dark rings under her eyes that spoke of pain and 
 want of sleep. She was so utterly different from Donna 
 Tullia, whom he had just left, that the Prince was almost 
 awed by her stateliness, and felt more than ever like a 
 boy in a bad scrape. Corona bowed rather coldly, but 
 extended her hand, which the old gentleman raised to 
 his lips respectfully, in the manner of the old school. 
 
 " I trust you are not exhausted after the ball ? " he 
 began, not knowing what to say. 
 
 "Not in the least. We did not stay late," replied 
 Corona, secretly wondering why he had come. 
 
 "It was really magnificent," he answered. "There 
 has been no such ball for years. Very unfortunate that 
 
SABACINESCA. 185 
 
 it should have terminated in such an unpleasant way," 
 he added, making a bold dash at the subject of which he 
 wished to speak. 
 
 "Very. You did a bad morning's work," said the 
 Duchessa, severely. "I wonder that you should speak 
 of it." 
 
 " No one speaks of anything else," returned the Prince, 
 apologetically. " Besides, I do not see what was to be 
 done." 
 
 "You should have stopped it," answered Corona, her 
 dark eyes gleaming with righteous indignation. "You 
 should have prevented it at any price, if not in the name 
 of religion, which forbids it as a crime, at least in the 
 name of decency as being Don Giovanni's father." 
 
 " You speak strong words, Duchessa," said the Prince, 
 evidently annoyed at her tone. 
 
 " If I speak strongly, it is because I think you acted 
 shamefully in permitting this disgraceful butchery." 
 
 Saracinesca suddenly lost his temper, as he frequently 
 did. 
 
 "Madam," he said, "it is certainly not for you to 
 accuse me of crime, lack of decency, and what you are 
 pleased to call disgraceful butchery, seeing who was the 
 probable cause of the honourable encounter which you 
 characterise in such tasteful language." 
 
 " Honourable indeed ! " said Corona, very scornfully. 
 " Let that pass. Who, pray, is more to blame than you ? 
 Who is the probable cause ? " 
 
 " Need I tell you ? " asked the old man, fixing his 
 flashing eyes upon her. 
 
 "What do you mean?" inquired Corona, turning 
 white, and her voice trembling between her anger and 
 her emotion. 
 
 "I may be wrong," said the Prince, "but I believe I 
 am right. I believe the duel was fought on your 
 account." 
 
 " On my account ! " repeated Corona, half rising from 
 her chair in her indignation. Then she sank back again, 
 
186 SARACINESCA. 
 
 and added, very coldly, " If you have come here to insult 
 me, Prince, I will send for my husband." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Duchessa," said old Saracinesca. 
 " It is very far from my intention to insult you." 
 
 " And who has told you this abominable lie ? " asked 
 Corona, still very angry. 
 
 " No one, upon my word." 
 
 " Then how dare you " 
 
 " Because I have reason to believe that you are the 
 only woman alive for whom my son would engage in a 
 quarrel." 
 
 " It is impossible," cried Corona. " I will never believe 
 that Don Giovanni could " She checked herself. 
 
 "Don Giovanni Saracinesca is a gentleman, madam," 
 said the old Prince, proudly. " He keeps his own coun 
 sel. I have come by the information without any evi 
 dence of it from his lips." 
 
 "Then I am at a loss to understand you," returned 
 the Duchessa. " I must beg you either to explain your 
 extraordinary language, or else to leave me." 
 
 Corona d'Astrardente was a match for any man when 
 she was angry. But old Saracinesca, though no diplo 
 matist, was a formidable adversary, from his boldness 
 and determination to discover the truth at any price. 
 
 " It is precisely because, at the risk of offending you, I 
 desired an explanation, that I have intruded myself upon 
 you to-day," he answered. " Will you permit me one 
 question before I leave you ? " 
 
 " Provided it is not an insulting one, I will answer it," 
 replied Corona. 
 
 " Do you know anything of the circumstances which led 
 to this morning's encounter ? " 
 
 " Certainly not," Corona answered, hotly. " I assure 
 you most solemnly," she continued in calmer tones, " that 
 I am wholly ignorant of it. I suppose you have a right to 
 be told that." 
 
 "I, on my part, assure you, upon my word, that I know 
 no more than you yourself, excepting this : on some provo- 
 
SAKACINESCA. 187 
 
 cation, concerning which he will not speak, my son seized 
 Del Ferice by the throat and used strong words to him. 
 ~No one witnessed the scene. Del Ferice sent the challenge. 
 My son could find no one to act for him and applied 
 to me, as was quite right that he should. There was no 
 apology possible Giovanni had to give the man satisfac 
 tion. You know as much as I know now." 
 
 " That does not help me to understand why you accuse 
 me of having caused the quarrel/' said Corona. " What 
 have I to do with Del Ferice, poor man ? " 
 
 " This any one can see that you are as indifferent to 
 my son as to any other man. Every one knows that the 
 Duchessa d'Astrardente is above suspicion." 
 
 Corona raised her head proudly and stared at Sara- 
 cinesca. 
 
 " But, on the other hand, every one knows that my son 
 loves you madly can you yourself deny it ? " 
 
 " Who dares to say it ? " asked Corona, her anger rising 
 afresh. 
 
 " Who sees, dares. Can you deny it ? " 
 
 " You have no right to repeat such hearsay tales to 
 me," answered Corona. But the blush rose to her pale 
 dark cheeks, and she suddenly dropped her eyes. 
 
 " Can you deny it, Duchessa? " asked the Prince a third 
 time, insisting roughly. 
 
 " Since you are so certain, why need you care for my 
 denial ? " inquired Corona. 
 
 "Duchessa, you must forgive me," answered Saracinesca, 
 his tone suddenly softening. " I am rough, probably rude ; 
 but I love my son dearly. I cannot bear to see him run 
 ning into a dangerous and hopeless passion, from which he 
 may issue only to find himself grown suddenly old and 
 bitter, disappointed and miserable for the rest of his life. 
 I believe you to be a very good woman ; I cannot look at 
 you and doubt the truth of anything you tell me. If he 
 loves you, you have influence over him. If you have in 
 fluence, use it for his good ; use it to break down this mad 
 love of his, to show him his own folly to save him, in 
 
188 SAEACINESCA. 
 
 short, from his fate. Do you understand me ? Do I ask 
 too much ? " 
 
 Corona understood well enough far too well. She 
 knew the whole extent of Giovanni's love for her, and, 
 what old Saracinesca never guessed, the strength of her 
 own love for him, for the sake of which she would do all 
 that a woman could do. There was a long pause after 
 the old Prince had spoken. He waited patiently for an 
 answer. 
 
 " I understand you yes," she said at last. " If you are 
 right in your surmises, I should have some influence over 
 your son. If I can advise him, and he will take my advice, 
 I will give him the best counsel I can. You have placed 
 me in a very embarrassing position, and you have shown 
 little courtesy in the way you have spoken to me ; but I 
 will try to do as you request me, if the opportunity offers, 
 for the sake of of turning what is very bad into some 
 thing which may at last be good." 
 
 " Thank you, thank you, Duchessa ! " cried the Prince. 
 " I will never forget " 
 
 " Do not thank me," said Corona, coldly. " I am not in 
 a mood to appreciate your gratitude. There is too much 
 blood of those honest gentlemen upon your hands." 
 
 " Pardon me, Duchessa, I wish there were on my hands 
 and head the blood of that gentleman you call honest 
 the gentleman who twice tried to murder my son this 
 morning, and twice nearly succeeded." 
 
 " What ! " cried Corona, in sudden terror. 
 
 " That fellow thrust at Giovanni once to kill him while 
 they were halting and his sword was hanging lowered in 
 his hand; and once again he threw himself upon his 
 knee and tried to stab him in the body which is a 
 dastardly trick not permitted in any country. Even in 
 duelling, such things are called murder ; and it is their 
 right name." 
 
 Corona was very pale. Giovanni's danger had been 
 suddenly brought before her in a very vivid light, and 
 she was horror-struck at the thought of it. 
 
SARACINESCA. 189 
 
 "Is is Don Giovanni very badly wounded ?" she asked. 
 
 " No, thank heaven ; he will be well in a week. But 
 either one of those attempts might have killed him ; and 
 he would have died, I think pardon me, no insult this 
 time I think, on your account. Do you see why for 
 him I dread this attachment to you, which leads him to 
 risk his life at every turn for a word about you ? Do 
 you see why I implore you to take the matter into your 
 serious consideration, and to use your influence to bring 
 him to his senses ? " 
 
 " I see ; but in this question of the duel you have no 
 proof that I was concerned." 
 
 " JSTo, no proof, perhaps. I will not weary you with 
 surmises ; but even if it was not for you this time, you 
 see that it might have been." 
 
 " Perhaps," said Corona, very sadly. 
 
 " I have to thank you, even if you will not listen to 
 me," said the Prince, rising. "You have understood 
 me. It was all I asked. Good night." 
 
 "Good night," answered Corona, who did not move 
 from her seat nor extend her hand this time. She was 
 too much agitated to think of formalities. Saracinesca 
 bowed low and left the room. 
 
 It was characteristic of him that he had come to see 
 the Duchessa not knowing what he should say, and that 
 he had blurted out the whole truth, and then lost his 
 temper in support of it. He was a hasty man, of noble 
 instincts, but always inclined rather to cut a knot than 
 to unloose it to do by force what another man would 
 do by skill angry at opposition, and yet craving it by 
 his combative nature. 
 
 His first impulse on leaving Corona was to go to 
 Giovanni and tell him what he had done ; but he reflected 
 as he went home that his son was ill with his wounds, 
 and that it would be bad for him to be angry, as of 
 course he would be if he were told of his father's doings. 
 Moreover, as old Saracinesca thought more seriously 
 
 of the ma,tter, he wisely concluded that it would be 
 Vol. 109 
 
190 SABACINESCA. 
 
 better not to speak of the visit ; and when he entered 
 the room where Giovanni was lying on his couch with a 
 novel and a cigarette, he had determined to conceal the 
 whole matter. 
 
 "Well, Giovanni," he said, "we are the talk of the 
 town, of course." 
 
 " It was to be expected. Whom have you seen ? " 
 
 " In the first place, I have seen Madame Mayer. She 
 is in a state of anger against you which borders on mad 
 ness not because you have wounded Del Ferice, but 
 because you forgot to dance with her. I cannot conceive 
 how you could be so foolish." 
 
 "Nor I. It was idiotic in the last degree," replied 
 Giovanni, annoyed that his father should have learned 
 the story. 
 
 " You must go and see her at once as soon as you can 
 go out. It is a disagreeable business." 
 
 " Of course. What else did she say ? " 
 
 " She thought that Del Ferice had challenged you on 
 her account, because you had not danced with her." 
 
 "How silly ! As if I should fight duels about her." 
 
 " Since there was probably a woman in the case, she 
 might have been the one," remarked his father. 
 
 " There was no woman in the case, practically speak 
 ing," said Giovanni, shortly. 
 
 " Oh, I supposed there was. However, I told Donna 
 Tullia that I advised her not to think anything more of 
 the matter until the whole story came out." 
 
 " When is that likely to occur ? " asked Giovanni, laugh 
 ing. " No one alive knows the cause of the quarrel but 
 Del Ferice and I myself. He will certainly not tell the 
 world, as the thing was even more disgraceful to him than 
 his behaviour this morning. There is no reason why I 
 should speak of it either." 
 
 " How reticent you are, Giovanni ! " exclaimed the old 
 gentleman. 
 
 " Believe me, if I could tell you the whole story with 
 out injuring any one but Del Ferice, I would." 
 
SARACINESCA. 191 
 
 " Then there was really a woman in the case ? " 
 " There was a woman outside the case, who caused us to 
 be in it," returned Giovanni. 
 
 " Always your detestable riddles," cried the old man, 
 petulantly ; and presently, seeing that his son was obsti 
 nately silent, he left the room to dress for dinner. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 It may be that when Astrardente spoke so tenderly to 
 his wife after the Frangipani ball, he felt some warning 
 that told him his strength was failing. His heart was in a 
 dangerous condition, the family doctor had said, and it was 
 necessary that he should take care of himself. He had been 
 very tired after that long evening, and perhaps some sudden 
 sinking had shaken his courage. He awoke from an un 
 usually heavy sleep with a strange sense of astonishment, 
 as though he had not expected to awake again in life. He 
 felt weaker than he had felt for a long time, and even his 
 accustomed beverage of chocolate mixed with coffee failed 
 to give him the support he needed in the morning. He rose 
 very late, and his servant found him more than usually 
 petulant, nor did the message brought back from Giovanni 
 seem to improve his temper. He met his wife at the mid 
 day breakfast, and was strangely silent, and in the after 
 noon he shut himself up in his own rooms and would see 
 nobody. But at dinner he appeared again, seemingly re 
 vived, and declared his intention of accompanying his 
 wife to a reception given at the Austrian embassy. He 
 seemed so unlike his usual self, that Corona did not ven 
 ture to speak of the duel which had taken place in the 
 morning; for she feared anything which might excite 
 him, well knowing that excitement might prove fatal. 
 She did what she could to dissuade him from going out ; 
 but he grew petulant, and she unwillingly yielded. 
 
192 SARACINESCA. 
 
 At the embassy he soon heard all the details, for no one 
 talked of anything else ; but Astrardente was ashamed of 
 not having heard it all before, and affected a cynical in 
 difference to the tale which the military attache of the 
 embassy repeated for his benefit. He vouchsafed some 
 remark to the effect that fighting duels was the natural 
 amusement of young gentlemen, and that if one of them 
 killed another there was at least one fool the less in 
 society ; after which he looked about him for some young 
 beauty to whom he might reel off a score of compliments. 
 He knew all the time that he was making a great effort, 
 that he felt unaccountably ill, and that he wished he had 
 taken his wife's advice and stayed quietly at home. But 
 at the end of the evening he chanced to overhear a re 
 mark that Valdarno was making to Casalverde, who 
 looked exceedingly pale and ill at ease. 
 
 " You had better make your will, my dear fellow," said 
 Yaldarno. " Spicca is a terrible man with the foils." 
 
 Astrardente turned quickly and looked at the speaker. 
 But both men were suddenly silent, and seemed absorbed 
 in gazing at the crowd. It was enough, however. Astrar 
 dente had gathered that Casalverde was to fight Spicca 
 the next day, and that the affair begun that morning had 
 not yet reached its termination. He determined that he 
 would not again be guilty of not knowing what was going 
 on in society ; and with the intention of rising early on 
 the following morning, he found Corona, and rather un 
 ceremoniously told her it was time to go home. 
 
 On the next day the Duca d' Astrardente walked into 
 the club soon after ten o'clock. On ordinary occasions 
 that resort of his fellows was entirely empty until a much 
 later hour ; but Astrardente was not disappointed to-day. 
 Twenty or thirty men were congregated in the large hall 
 which served as a smoking-room, and all of them were 
 talking together excitedly. As the door swung on its 
 hinges and the old dandy entered, a sudden silence fell 
 upon the assembly. Astrardente naturally judged that 
 the conversation had turned upon himself, and had been 
 
SARACINESCA. 198 
 
 checked by his appearance; but he affected to take no 
 notice of the occurrence, adjusting his single eyeglass in 
 his eye and serenely surveying the men in the room. 
 He could see that, although they had been talking loudly, 
 the matter in hand was serious enough, for there was no 
 trace of mirth on any of the faces before him. He at 
 once assumed an air of gravity, and going up to Valdarno, 
 who seemed to have occupied the most prominent place in 
 the recent discussion, he put his question in an undertone. 
 
 " I suppose Spicca killed him ? " 
 
 Valdarno nodded, and looked grave. He was a thought, 
 less young fellow enough, but the news of the tragedy 
 had sobered him. Astrardente had anticipated the death 
 of Casalverde, and was not surprised. But he was not 
 without human feeling, and showed a becoming regret at 
 the sad end of a man he had been accustomed to see so 
 frequently. 
 
 "How was it ? " he asked. 
 
 "A simple <un, deux/ tierce and carte at the first bout. 
 Spicca is as quick as lightning. Come away from this 
 crowd," added Valdarno, in a low voice, " and I will tell 
 you all about it." 
 
 In spite of his sorrow at his friend's death, Valdarno 
 felt a certain sense of importance at being able to tell the 
 story to Astrardente. Valdarno was vain in a small way, 
 though his vanity was to that of the old Duca as the 
 humble violet to the full-blown cabbage-rose. Astrardente 
 enjoyed a considerable importance in society as* the hus 
 band of Corona, and was an object of especial interest to 
 Valdarno, who supported the incredible theory of Corona's 
 devotion to the old man. Valdarno's stables were near 
 the club, and on pretence of showing a new horse to 
 Astrardente, he nodded to his friends, and left the room 
 with the aged dandy. It was a clear, bright winter's 
 morning, and the two men strolled slowly down the Corso 
 towards Valdarno's palace. 
 
 " You know, of course, how the affair began ? " asked 
 the young man. 
 
194 SARACINESCA. 
 
 " The first duel ? Nobody knows certainly not I." 
 
 " Well perhaps not," returned Valdarno, doubtfully. 
 " At all events, you know that Spicca flew into a passion 
 because poor Casalverde forgot to step in after he cried 
 halt ; and then Del Ferice ran Giovanni through the arm." 
 
 " That was highly improper most reprehensible," said 
 Astrardente, putting up his eyeglass to look at a pretty 
 little sempstress who hurried past on her way to her work. 
 
 "I suppose so. But Casalverde certainly meant no 
 harm ; and if Del Ferice had not been so unlucky as to 
 forget himself in the excitement of the moment, no one 
 would have thought anything of it." 
 
 " Ah yes, I suppose not," murmured Astrardente, still 
 looking after the girl. When he could see her face no 
 longer, he turned sharply back to Valdarno. 
 
 " This is exceedingly interesting," he said. " Tell me 
 more about it." 
 
 " Well, when it was over, old Saracinesca was for killing 
 Casalverde himself." 
 
 " The old fire-eater ! He ought to be ashamed of him 
 self." 
 
 "However, Spicca was before him, and challenged Casal 
 verde then and there. As both the principals in the first 
 duel were so badly wounded, it had to be put off until 
 this morning." 
 
 "They went out, and piff, paff! Spicca ran him 
 through," interrupted Astrardente. "What a horrible 
 tragedy ! " 
 
 " Ah yes ; and what is worse " 
 
 "What surprises me most," interrupted the Duca again, 
 " is that in this delightfully peaceful and paternally gov 
 erned little nest of ours, the authorities should not have 
 been able to prevent either of these duels. It is perfectly 
 amazing ! I cannot remember a parallel instance. Do 
 you mean to say that there was not a sbirro or a gendarme 
 in the neighbourhood to-day nor yesterday ? " 
 
 " That is not so surprising," answered Valdarno, with a 
 knowing look. "There would have been few tears in 
 
SABACINESCA. 195 
 
 high quarters if Del Fence had been killed yesterday ; 
 there will be few to-day over the death of poor Casal- 
 verde." 
 
 "Bah!" ejaculated Astrardente. " If Antonelli had 
 heard of these affairs he would have stopped them soon 
 enough." 
 
 Valdarno glanced behind him, and, bending a little, 
 whispered in Astrardente's ear 
 
 " They were both Liberals, you must know." 
 
 " Liberals ? " repeated the old dandy, with a cynical 
 sneer. " Nonsense, I say ! Liberals ? Yes, in the way 
 you are a Liberal, and Donna Tullia Mayer, and Spicca 
 himself, who has just killed that other Liberal, Casalverde. 
 Liberals indeed ! Do you natter yourself for a moment 
 that Antonelli is afraid of such Liberals as you are ? Do 
 you think the life of Del Ferice is of any more importance 
 to politics than the life of that dog there ? " 
 
 It was Astrardente's habit to scoff mercilessly at all the 
 petty manifestations of political feeling he saw about him 
 in the world. He represented a class distinct both from 
 the Valdarno set and from the men represented by the 
 Saracinesca a class who despised everything political as 
 unworthy of the attention of gentlemen, who took every 
 thing for granted, and believed that all was for the best, 
 provided that society moved upon rollers and so long as 
 no one meddled with old institutions. To question the 
 wisdom of the municipal regulations was to attack the 
 Government itself; to attack the Government was to cast 
 a slight upon his Holiness the Pope, which was rank 
 heresy, and very vulgar into the bargain. Astrardente 
 had seen a great deal of the world, but his ideas of politics 
 were almost childishly simple whereas many people said 
 that his principles in relation to his fellows were fiendishly 
 cynical. He was certainly not a very good man ; and if 
 he pretended to no reputation for devoutness, it was prob 
 able that he recognised the absurdity of his attempting 
 such a pose. But politically he believed in Cardinal 
 Antonelli's ability to defy Europe with or without the 
 
196 SARACINESCA. 
 
 aid of France, and laughed as loudly at Louis Napoleon's 
 old idea of putting the sovereign Pontiff at the head of 
 an Italian federation, as he jeered at Cavour's favourite 
 phrase concerning a free Church in a free State. He had 
 good blood in him, and the hereditary courage often found 
 with it. He had a certain skill in matters worldly ; but his 
 wit in things political seemed to belong to an earlier gener 
 ation, and to be incapable of receiving new impressions. 
 
 But Valdarno, who was vain and set great value on his 
 opinions, was deeply offended at the way Astrardente 
 spoke of him and his friends. In his eyes he was risking 
 much for what he considered a good object, and he re 
 sented any contemptuous mention of Liberal principles, 
 whenever he dared. No one cared much for Astrardente, 
 and certainly no one feared him ; nevertheless in those 
 times men hesitated to defend anything which came under 
 the general head of Liberalism, when they were likely to 
 be overheard, or when they could not trust the man to 
 whom they were speaking. If no one feared Astrardente, 
 no one trusted him either. Valdarno consequently judged 
 it best to smother his annoyance at the old man's words, 
 and to retaliate by striking him in a weak spot. 
 
 " If you despise Del Ferice as much as you say," he re 
 marked, " I wonder that you tolerate him as you do." 
 
 " I tolerate him. Toleration is the very word it de 
 lightfully expresses my feelings towards him. He is a 
 perfectly harmless creature, who affects immense depth 
 of insight into human affairs, and who cannot see an inch 
 before his face. Dear me ! yes, I shall always tolerate 
 Del Ferice, poor fellow ! " 
 
 " You may not be called upon to do so much longer," 
 replied Valdarno. " They say he is in a very dangerous 
 condition." 
 
 "Ah!" ejaculated Astrardente, putting up his eye 
 glass at his companion. " Ah, you don't say so ! " 
 
 There was something so insolent in the old man's 
 affected stare that even the foolish and good-natured Val 
 darno lost his temper, being already somewhat irritated. 
 
SARACINESCA. 197 
 
 " It is a pity that you should be so indifferent. It is 
 frardly becoming. If you had not tolerated him as you 
 have, he might not be lying there at the point of death." 
 
 Astrardente stared harder than ever. 
 
 " My dear young friend," he said, " your language is 
 the most extraordinary I ever heard. How in the world 
 can my treatment of that unfortunate man have had any 
 thing to do with his being wounded in a duel ? " 
 
 "My dear old friend," replied Valdarno, impudently 
 mimicking the old man's tone, " your simplicity surpasses 
 anything I ever knew. Is it possible that you do not 
 know that this duel was fought for your wife ? " 
 
 Astrardente looked fixedly at Valdarno ; his eyeglass 
 dropped from his eye, and he turned ashy pale beneath 
 his paint. He staggered a moment, and steadied himself 
 against the door of a shop. They were just passing the 
 corner of the Piazza di Sciarra, the most crowded crossing 
 of the Corso. 
 
 "Valdarno," said the old man, his cracked voice drop 
 ping to a hoarser and deeper tone, " you must explain 
 yourself or answer for this." 
 
 " What ! Another duel ! " cried Valdarno, in some 
 scorn. Then, seeing that his companion looked ill, he 
 took him by the arm and led him rapidly through the 
 crowd, across the Arco dei Carbognani. Entering the 
 Gaffe Aragno, a new institution in those days, both men 
 sat down at a small marble table. The old dandy was 
 white with emotion ; Valdarno felt that he was enjoying 
 his revenge. 
 
 " A glass of cognac, Duke ? " he said, as the waiter 
 came up. Astrardente nodded, and there was silence 
 while the man brought the cordial. The Duca lived by 
 an invariable rule, seeking to balance the follies of his 
 youth by excessive care in his old age ; it was long, in 
 deed, since he had taken a glass of brandy in the morning. 
 He swallowed it quickly, and the stimulant produced its 
 effect immediately ; he readjusted his eyeglass, and faced 
 Valdarno sternly. 
 
198 SAKACINESCA. 
 
 " And now," lie said, " that we are at our ease, may I 
 inquire what the devil you mean by your insinuations 
 about my wife ? " 
 
 "Oh," replied Valdarno, affecting great indifference, 
 " I only say what everybody says. There is no offence 
 to the Duehessa." 
 
 "I should suppose not, indeed. Go on." 
 
 " Do you really care to hear the story ? " asked the 
 young man. 
 
 " I intend to hear it, and at once," replied Astrardente. 
 
 " You will not have to employ force to extract it from 
 me, I can assure you," said Valdarno, settling himself in 
 his chair, but avoiding the angry glance of the old man. 
 " Everybody has been repeating it since the day before 
 yesterday, when it occurred. You were at the Frangipani 
 ball you might have seen it all. In the first place, you 
 must know that there exists another of those beings to 
 whom you extend your merciful toleration a certain 
 Giovanni Saracinesca you may have noticed him ? " 
 
 " What of him ? " asked Astrardente, fiercely. 
 
 " Among other things, he is the man who wounded Del 
 Ferice, as I daresay you have heard. Among other things 
 concerning him, he has done himself the honour of fall 
 ing desperately, madly in love with the Duehessa d' Astrar 
 dente, who " 
 
 " What ? " cried the old man in a cracked voice, as 
 Valdarno paused. 
 
 " Who does you the honour of ignoring his existence 
 on most occasions, but who was so unfortunate as to re 
 call him to her memory on the night of the Frangipani 
 ball. We were all sitting in a circle round the Duchessa's 
 chair that night, when the conversation chanced to turn 
 upon this same Giovanni Saracinesca, a fire-eating fellow 
 with a bad temper. He had been away for some days ; 
 indeed he was last seen at the Apollo in your box, when 
 they gave ' Norma ' " 
 
 " I remember," interrupted Astrardente. The mention 
 of that evening was but a random shot. Valdarno had 
 
SARACINTSSCA. 199 
 
 been in the club-box, and had seen Giovanni when he 
 made his visit to the Astrardente ; he had not seen him 
 again till the Frangipani ball. 
 
 "Well, as I was saying, we spoke of Giovanni, and 
 every one had something to say about his absence. The 
 Duchessa expressed her curiosity, and Del Ferice, who 
 was with us, proposed calling him he was at the other 
 end of the room, you see that he might answer for him 
 self. So I went and brought him up. He was in a very 
 bad humour " 
 
 "What has all this absurd story got to do with the 
 matter ? " asked the old man, impatiently. 
 
 "It is the matter itself. The irascible Giovanni is 
 angry at being questioned, treats us all like mud under 
 his feet, sits down by the Duchessa and forces us to go 
 away. The Duchessa tells him the story, with a laugh 
 no doubt, and Giovanni's wrath overflows. Ete goes in 
 search of Del Ferice, and nearly strangles him. The re 
 sult of these eccentricities is the first duel, leading to the 
 second." 
 
 Astrardente was very angry, and his thin gloved hands 
 twitched nervously at the handle of his stick. 
 
 " And this/ 7 he said " this string of trivial ball-room 
 incident, seems to you a sufficient pretext for stating 
 that the duel was about my wife ? " 
 
 " Certainly," replied Valdarno, coolly. " If Saracinesca 
 had not been for months openly devoting himself to the 
 Duchessa who, I assure you, takes no kind of notice of 
 him " 
 
 " You need not waste words " 
 
 " I do not, and if Giovanni had not thought it worth 
 while to be jealous of Del Ferice, there would have been 
 no fighting." 
 
 " Have you been telling your young friends that my 
 wife was the cause of all this ? " asked Astrardente, 
 trembling with a genuine rage which lent a certain mo 
 mentary dignity to his feeble frame and painted face. 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
200 SARACINESCA. 
 
 " Have you or have you not ? " 
 
 "Certainly if you please," returned Valdarno inso* 
 lently, enjoying the old man's fury. 
 
 "Then permit me to tell you that you have taken 
 upon yourself an outrageous liberty, that you have lied, 
 and that you do not deserve to be treated like a 
 gentleman." 
 
 Astrardente got upon his feet and left the cafe* with 
 out further words. Valdarno had indeed wounded him 
 in a weak spot, and the wound was mortal. His blood 
 was up, and at that moment he would have faced Val 
 darno sword in hand, and might have proved himself no 
 mean adversary, so great is the power of anger to revive 
 in the most decrepit the energies of youth. He believed 
 in his wife with a rare sincerity, and his blood boiled at 
 the idea of her being rudely spoken of as the cause of a 
 scandalous quarrel, however much Valdarno insisted upon 
 it that she was as indifferent to Giovanni as to Del 
 Ferice. The story was a shallow invention upon the 
 face of it. But though the old man told himself so 
 again and again as he almost ran through the narrow 
 streets towards his house, there was one thought sug 
 gested by Valdarno which rankled deep. It was true 
 that Giovanni had last been seen in the Astrardente 
 box at the opera ; but he had not remained five minutes 
 seated by the Duchessa before he had suddenly invented 
 a shallow excuse for leaving ; and finally, there was no 
 doubt that at that very moment Corona had seemed vio 
 lently agitated. Giovanni had not reappeared till the 
 night of the Frangipani ball, and the duel had taken 
 place on the very next morning. Astrardente could not 
 reason his mind was too much disturbed by his anger 
 against Valdarno ; but a vague impression that there was 
 something wrong in it all, drove him homewards in wild 
 excitement. He was ill, too, and had he been in a frame 
 of mind to reflect upon himself, he would have noticed 
 that his heart was beating with ominous irregularity. 
 He did not even think of taking a cab, but hurried along 
 
SAEACINESCA. 201 
 
 on foot, finding, perhaps, a momentary relief in violent 
 exertion. The old blood rushed to his face in good 
 earnest, and shamed the delicately painted lights and 
 shadows touched in by the master-hand of Monsieur 
 Isidore, the cosmopolitan valet. 
 
 Valdarno remained seated in the cafe, rather disturbed 
 at what he had done. He certainly had had no intention 
 of raising such a storm ; he was a weak and good-natured 
 fellow, whose vanity was easily wounded, but who was not 
 otherwise very sensitive, and was certainly not very intel 
 ligent. Astrardente had laughed at him and his friends 
 in a way which touched him to the quick, and with child 
 ish petulance he had retaliated in the easiest way which 
 presented itself. Indeed there was more foundation for 
 his tale than Astrardente would allow. At least it was 
 true that the story was in the mouths of all the gossips 
 that morning, and Yaldarno had only repeated what he 
 had heard. He had meant to annoy the old man ; he 
 had certainly not intended to make him so furiously an 
 gry. As for the deliberate insult he had received, it was 
 undoubtedly very shocking to be told that one lied in. 
 such very plain terms ; but on the other hand, to demand 
 satisfaction of such an old wreck as Astrardente would 
 be ridiculous in the extreme. Valdarno was incapable of 
 very violent passion, and was easily persuaded that he 
 was in the wrong when any one contradicted him flatly ; 
 not that he was altogether devoid of a certain physical 
 courage if hard pushed, but because he was not very 
 strong, not very confident of himself, not very combative, 
 and not very truthful. When Astrardente was gone, he 
 waited a few minutes, and then sauntered up the Corso 
 again towards the club, debating in his mind how he 
 should turn a good story out of his morning's adventure 
 without making himself appear either foolish or pusillan 
 imous. It was also necessary so to turn his narrative that 
 in case any one repeated it to Giovanni, the latter might 
 not propose to cut his throat, though it was not prob 
 able that any one would be bold enough to desire a con- 
 
202 SARACINESCA. 
 
 versation with the younger Saracinesca on such a sub 
 ject. 
 
 When he again entered the smoking-room of the club, 
 he was greeted by a chorus of inquiries concerning his 
 interview with Astrardente. 
 
 " What did he ask ? What did he say ? Where is he ? 
 What did you tell him ? Did he drop his eyeglass ? Did 
 he blush through his paint ? " 
 
 Everybody spoke together in the same breath. Val- 
 darno's vanity rose to the occasion. Weak and insignifi 
 cant by nature, he particularly delighted in being the 
 centre of general interest, if even for a moment only. 
 
 " He really dropped his eyeglass," he answered, with 
 a gay laugh, " and he really changed colour in spite of 
 his paint." 
 
 "It must have been a terrible interview, then," re 
 marked one or two of the loungers. 
 
 " I shall be happy to offer you my services in case you 
 wish to cut each other's throats," said a French officer of 
 the Papal Zouaves who stood by the fireplace rolling a 
 cigarette. Whereupon everybody laughed loudly. 
 
 "Thanks," answered Valdarno ; "I am expecting a chal 
 lenge every minute. If he proposes a powder-puff and a 
 box of rouge for the weapons, I accept without hesitation. 
 Well, it was very amusing. He wanted to know all about 
 it, and so I told him about the scene in Casa Frangipani. 
 He did not seem to understand at all. He is a very 
 obtuse old gentleman." 
 
 " I hope you explained the connection of events," said 
 some one. 
 
 " Indeed I did. It was delightful to witness his fury. 
 It was then that he dropped his eyeglass and turned as 
 red as a boiled lobster. He swore that his wife was 
 above suspicion, as usual." 
 
 " That is true," said a young man who had attempted 
 to make love to Corona during the previous year. 
 
 " Of course it is true," echoed all the rest, with una 
 nimity rare indeed where a woman's reputation is con 
 cerned. 
 
SARACINESCA. 203 
 
 " Yes," continued Valdarno, " of course. But he goes 
 so far as to say it is absurd that any one should admire 
 his wife, who is nevertheless a most admirable woman. 
 He stamped, he screamed, he turned red in the face, and 
 he went off without taking leave of me, flourishing his 
 stick, and swearing eternal hatred and vengeance against 
 the entire civilised society of the world. He was delight 
 fully amusing. Will anybody play baccarat ? I will 
 start a bank." 
 
 The majority were for the game, and in a few minutes 
 were seated at a large green table, drawing cards and bet 
 ting with a good will, and interspersing their play with 
 stray remarks on the events of the morning. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Corona was fast coming to a state of mind in which a 
 kind of passive expectation a sort of blind submission to 
 fate was the chief feature. She had shed tears when her 
 husband spoke of his approaching end, because her gentle 
 heart was grateful to him, and by its own sacrifices had 
 grown used to his presence, and because she suddenly felt 
 that she had comprehended the depth of his love for her, 
 as she had never understood it before. In the five years 
 of married life she had spent with him, she had not allowed 
 herself to think of his selfishness, of his small daily ego 
 tism ; for, though it was at no great expense to himself, he 
 had been uniformly generous and considerate to her. But 
 she had been conscious that if she should ever remove from 
 her conscience the pressure of a self-imposed censorship, so 
 that her judgment might speak boldly, the verdict of her 
 heart would not have been so indulgent to her husband as 
 was that formal opinion of him which she forced herself to 
 hold. Now, however, it seemed as though the best things 
 she had desired to believe of him were true ; and with the 
 
204 SAKACINESCA. 
 
 conviction that he was not only not selfish, but absolutely 
 devoted to herself, there had come upon her a fear of deso^ 
 lation, a dread of being left alone of finding herself aban 
 doned by this strange companion, the only person in the 
 world with whom she had the habit of familiarity and the 
 bond of a common past. Astrardente had thought, and had 
 told her too, that the knowledge of his impending death 
 might lighten her burden might make the days of self- 
 sacrifice that yet remained seem shorter ; he had spoken 
 kindly of her marrying again when he should be dead, 
 deeming perhaps, in his sudden burst of generosity that 
 she would be capable of looking beyond the unhappy pres 
 ent to the possibilities of a more brilliant future, or at least 
 that the certainty of his consent to such a second union 
 would momentarily please her. It was hard to say why he 
 had spoken. It had been an impulse such as the most self 
 ish people sometimes yield to when their failing strength 
 brings upon them suddenly the sense of their inability to 
 resist any longer the course of events. The vanity of man 
 is so amazing that when he is past arrogating to himself 
 the attention which is necessary to him as his daily bread, 
 he is capable of so demeaning his manhood as to excite in 
 terest in his weaknesses rather than that he should cease 
 to be the object of any interest whatever. The analysis 
 of the feelings of old and selfish persons is the most diffi 
 cult of all studies ; for in proportion as the strength of the 
 dominant passion or passions is quenched in the bitter still 
 waters of the harbour of superannuation, the small influ 
 ences of life grow in importance. As when, from the 
 breaking surge of an angry ocean, the water is dashed high 
 amcng the re-echoing rocks, leaving little pools of limpid 
 clearness in the hollows of the storm-beaten cliffs ; and as 
 when the anger of the tossing waves has subsided, the hot 
 sun shines upon the mimic seas, and the clear waters that 
 were so transparent grow thick and foul with the motion 
 of a tiny and insignificant insect-life undreamed of before 
 in such crystal purity : so also the clear strong sea of youth 
 is left to dry in the pools and puddles of old age, and in 
 
SARACINESCA. 205 
 
 the motionless calm of the still places where the ocean of 
 life has washed it, it is dried up and consumed by myriads 
 of tiny parasites lives within lives, passions within pas 
 sions tiny efforts at mimic greatness, a restless little 
 world, the very parody and infinitesimal reproduction of 
 the mighty flood whence it came, wherein great monsters 
 have their being, and things of unspeakable beauty grow 
 free in the large depths of an unf athomed ocean. 
 
 To Corona d'Astrardente in the freshness of her youth 
 the study of her husband's strange littleness had grown 
 to be a second nature from the habit of her devotion to 
 him. But she could not understand him ; she could not 
 explain to herself the sudden confession of old age, the 
 quiet anticipation of death, the inexplicable generosity 
 towards herself. She only knew that he must be at 
 heart a man more kindly and of better impulse than he 
 had generally been considered, and she resolved to do 
 her utmost to repay him, and to soothe the misery of his 
 last years. 
 
 Since he had told her so plainly, it must be true. It 
 was natural, perhaps for he was growing more feeble 
 every day but it was very sad. Five years ago, when 
 she had choked down her loathing for the old man to 
 whom she had sold herself for her father's sake, she 
 would not have believed that she should one day feel the 
 tears rise fast at the thought of his dying and leaving 
 her free. He had said it ; she would be free. They say 
 that men who have been long confined in a dungeon 
 become indifferent, and when turned out upon the world 
 would at first gladly return to their prison walls. Liberty 
 is in the first place an instinct, but it will easily grow to 
 be a habit. Corona had renounced all thought of freedom 
 five years ago, and in the patient bowing of her noble na 
 ture to the path she had chosen, she had attained to a state 
 of renunciation like that of a man who has buried himself 
 for ever in an order of Trappists, and neither dreams of 
 the freedom of the outer world, nor desires to dream of 
 it. And she had grown fond of the aged dandy and his 
 
206 SABACINBSCA. 
 
 foolish ways ways which, seemed foolish because they 
 were those of youth grafted upon senility. She had not 
 known that she was fond of him, it is true ; but now that 
 he spoke of dying, she felt that she would weep his loss. 
 He was her only companion, her only friend. In the 
 loyal determination to be faithful to him, she had so shut 
 herself from all intimacy with the world that she had 
 not a friend. She kept women at a distance from her, 
 instinctively dreading lest in their careless talk some 
 hint or comment should remind her that she had mar 
 ried a man ridiculous in their eyes ; and with men she 
 could have but little intercourse, for their society was 
 dangerous. No man save G-iovanni Saracinesca had for 
 years put himself in the light of a mere acquaintance, 
 always ready to talk to her upon general subjects, studi 
 ously avoiding himself in all discussions, and delicately 
 nattering her vanity by his deference to her judgment. 
 The other men had generally spoken of love at the sec 
 ond meeting, and declared themselves devoted to her for 
 life at the end of a week : she had quietly repulsed them, 
 and they had dropped back into the position of indifferent 
 acquaintances, going in search of other game, after the 
 manner of young gentlemen of leisure. Giovanni alone 
 had sternly maintained his air of calmness, had never 
 offended her simple pride of loyalty to Astrardente by 
 word or deed ; so that, although she felt and dreaded her 
 growing interest in him, she had actually believed that 
 he was nothing in her life, until at last she had been un 
 deceived and awakened to the knowledge of his fierce pas 
 sion, and being taken unawares, had nearly been carried 
 off her feet by the tempest his words had roused in her 
 own breast. But her strength had not utterly deserted 
 her. Years of supreme devotion to the right, of honest 
 and unwavering loyalty, neither deceiving her conscience 
 on the one hand with the morbid food of a fictitious re 
 ligious exaltation, nor, upon the other, sinking to a cynical 
 indifference to inevitable misery ; days of quiet and con 
 stant effort ; long hours of thoughtful meditation upon 
 
SARACINESCA. 207 
 
 the one resolution of her life, all this had strengthened 
 the natural force of her character, so that, when at last 
 the great trial had come, she had not yielded, but had 
 conquered once and for ever, in the very moment of 
 sorest temptation. And with her there would be no re 
 turn of the danger. Having found strength to resist, 
 she knew that there would be no more weakness ; her 
 love for Giovanni was deep and sincere, but it had be 
 come now the chief cause of suffering in her life ; it had 
 utterly ceased to be the chief element of joy, as it had 
 been for a few short days. It was one thing more to be 
 borne, and it outweighed all other cares. 
 
 The news of the duel had given her great distress. 
 She believed honestly that she was in no way concerned 
 in it, and she had bitterly resented old Saracinesca's im 
 putation. In the hot words that had passed between 
 them, she had felt her anger rise justly against the old 
 Prince ; but when he appealed to her on account of his 
 son, her love for Giovanni had vanquished her wrath 
 against the old man. Come what might, she would do 
 what was best for him. If possible, she would induce 
 him to leave Eome at once, and thus free herself from the 
 pain of constantly meeting him. Perhaps she could make 
 him marry anything would be better than to allow 
 things to go on in their present course, to have to 
 face him at every turn, and to know that at any moment 
 he might be quarrelling with somebody and fighting 
 duels on her account. 
 
 She went boldly into the world that night, not know 
 ing whether she should meet Giovanni or not, but re 
 solved upon her course if he appeared. Many people 
 looked curiously at her, and smiled cunningly as they 
 thought they detected traces of care upon her proud face ; 
 but though they studied her, and lost no opportunity of 
 talking to her upon the one topic which absorbed the 
 general conversation, no one had the satisfaction of mov 
 ing her even so much as to blush a little, or to lower the 
 gaze of her eyes that looked them all indifferently 
 through and through. 
 
.208 SAKACINESCA. 
 
 Giovanni, however, did not appear, and people told her 
 he would not leave his room for several days, so that she 
 returned to her home without having accomplished any 
 thing in the matter. Her husband was very silent, but 
 looked at her with an expression of uncertainty, as though 
 hesitating to speak to her upon some subject that absorbed 
 his interest. Neither of them referred to the strange 
 interview of the previous night. They went home early, 
 as has been already recorded, seeing it was only a great 
 and formal reception to which the world went that night; 
 and even the toughest old society jades were weary from 
 the ball of the day before, which had not broken up until 
 half-past six in the morning. 
 
 On the next day, at about twelve o'clock, Corona was 
 sitting in her boudoir writing a number of invitations 
 which were to be distributed in the afternoon, when the 
 door opened and her husband entered the room. 
 
 " My dear," he cried in great excitement, " it is per 
 fectly horrible ! Have you heard ? " 
 
 " What ? " asked Corona, laying down her pen. 
 
 " Spicca has killed Casalverde the man who seconded 
 Del Ferice yesterday, killed him on the spot " 
 
 Corona uttered an exclamation of horror. 
 
 "And they say Del Ferice is dead, or just dying" 
 his cracked voice rose at every word ; " and they say," he 
 almost screamed, laying his withered hand roughly upon 
 his wife's shoulder, " they say that the duel was about 
 you you, do you understand ? " 
 
 " That is not true," said Corona, firmly. " Calm your 
 self I beseech you to be calm. Tell me connectedly 
 what has happened who told you this story." 
 
 " What right has any man to drag your name into a 
 quarrel ? " cried the old man, hoarsely. " Everybody is 
 saying it it is outrageous, abominable " 
 
 Corona quietly pushed her husband into a chair, and 
 sat down beside him. 
 
 " You are excited you will harm yourself, remember 
 your health," she said, endeavouring to soothe him. 
 
SARACINESCA. 209 
 
 " Tell me, in the first place, who told you that it was 
 about me." 
 
 " Valdarno told me ; he told me that every one was 
 saying it that it was the talk of the town." 
 
 " But why ? " insisted Corona. " You allow yourself 
 to be furious for the sake of a piece of gossip which has 
 no foundation whatever. What is the story they tell ? " 
 
 " Some nonsense about Giovanni Saracinesca' s going 
 away last week. Del Ferice proposed to call him before 
 you, and Giovanni was angry." 
 
 " That is absurd," said Corona. " Don Giovanni was 
 not the least annoyed. He was with me afterwards " 
 
 " Always Giovanni ! Always Giovanni ! Wherever 
 you go, it is Giovanni ! " cried the old man, in unreason 
 able petulance unreasonable from his point of view, 
 reasonable enough had he known the truth. But he 
 struck unconsciously upon the key-note of all Corona's 
 troubles, and she turned pale to the lips. 
 
 " You say it is not true," he began again. " How do 
 you know? How can you tell what may have been 
 said ? How can you guess it ? Giovanni Saracinesca is 
 about you in society more than any one. He has quar 
 relled about you, and two men have lost their lives in 
 consequence. He is in love with you, I tell you. Can 
 you not see it ? You must be blind ! " 
 
 Corona leaned back in her chair, utterly overcome by 
 the suddenness of the situation, unable to answer, her 
 hands folded tightly together, her pale lips compressed. 
 Angry at her silence, old Astrardente continued, his rage 
 gradually getting the mastery of his sense, and his pas 
 sion working itself up to the pitch of madness. 
 
 " Blind yes positively blind ! " he cried. " Do you 
 think that I am blind too ? Do you think I will overlook 
 all this ? Do you not see that your reputation is injured 
 that people associate your name with his that no 
 woman can be mentioned in the same breath with Gio 
 vanni Saracinesca and hope to maintain a fair fame ? A 
 fellow whose adventures are in everybody's mouth, whose 
 
210 SARACINESCA. 
 
 doings are notorious ; who has but to look at a woman to 
 destroy her ; who is a duellist, a libertine " 
 
 " That is not true," interrupted Corona, unable to listen 
 calmly to the abuse thus heaped upon the man she so 
 dearly loved. " You are mad " 
 
 " You defend him ! " screamed Astrardente, leaning far 
 forward in his chair and clenching his hands. "You dare 
 to support him you acknowledge that you care for him ! 
 Does he not pursue you everywhere, so that the town rings 
 with it ? You ought to long to be rid of him, to wish he 
 were dead, rather than allow his name to be breathed with 
 yours ; and instead, you defend him to me you say he is 
 right, that you prefer his odious devotion to your good 
 name, to my good name ! Oh, it is not to be believed ! 
 If you loved him yourself you could not do worse ! " 
 
 " If half you say were true " said Corona, in terri 
 ble distress. 
 
 " True ? " cried Astrardente, who would not brook in 
 terruption. " It is all true and more also. It is true 
 that he loves you, true that all the world says it, true 
 by all that is holy, from your face I would almost believe 
 that you do love him ! Why do you not deny it ? Mis 
 erable woman ! " he screamed, springing towards her and 
 seizing her roughly by the arm, as she hid her face in her 
 hands. " Miserable woman ! you have betrayed me " 
 
 In the paroxysm of his rage the feeble old man became 
 almost strong ; his grip tightened upon his wife's wrist, 
 and he dragged her violently from her seat. 
 
 "Betrayed! And by you!" he cried again, shaking 
 with passion. " You whom I have loved ! This is your 
 gratitude, your sanctified devotion, your cunning pre 
 tence at patience ! All to hide your love for such a man 
 as that ! You hypocrite, you " 
 
 By a sudden effort Corona shook off his grasp, and 
 drew herself up to her full height in magnificent anger. 
 
 "You shall hear me," she said, in deep commanding 
 tones. " I have deserved much, but I have not deserved 
 this." 
 
SABACINESCA . 211 
 
 "Ha!" he hissed, standing back from her a step, "you 
 can speak now I have touched you ! You have found 
 words. It was time ! " 
 
 Corona was as white as death, and her black eyes shone 
 like coals of fire. Her words came slowly, every accent 
 clear and strong with concentrated passion. 
 
 "I have not betrayed you. I have spoken no word of 
 love to any man alive, and you know that I speak the 
 truth. If any one has said to me what should not be said, 
 I have rebuked him to silence. You know, while you 
 accuse me, that I have done my best to honour and love 
 you ; you know well that I would die by my own hand, 
 your loyal and true wife, rather than let my lips utter one 
 syllable of love for any other man." 
 
 Corona possessed a supreme power over her husband. 
 She was so true a woman that the truth blazed visibly 
 from her clear eyes ; and what she said was nothing but 
 the truth. She had doubted it herself for one dreadful 
 moment; she knew it now beyond all doubting. In a 
 moment the old man's wrath broke and vanished before 
 the strong assertion of her perfect innocence. He turned 
 pale under his paint, and his limbs trembled. He made 
 a step forward, and fell upon his knees before her, and 
 tried to take her hands. 
 
 "Oh, Corona, forgive me," he moaned "forgive me! I 
 so love you ! " 
 
 Suddenly his grasp relaxed from her hands, and with a 
 groan he fell forward against her knees. 
 
 " God knows I forgive you ! " cried Corona, the tears 
 starting to her eyes in sudden pity. She bent down to 
 support him ; but as she moved, he fell prostrate upon his 
 face before her. With a cry of terror she kneeled beside 
 him ; with her strong arms she turned his body and raised 
 his head upon her knees. His face was ghastly white, 
 save where the tinges of paint made a hideous mockery 
 of colour upon his livid skin. His parted lips were 
 faintly purple, and his hollow eyes stared wide open at 
 his wife's face, while the curled wig was thrust far back 
 upon his bald and wrinkled forehead. 
 
212 SABACINESCA. 
 
 Corona supported his weight upon one knee, and tool* 
 his nerveless hand in hers. An agony of terror seized 
 her. 
 
 " Onofrio ! " she cried she rarely called him by his 
 name " Onofrio ! speak to me I My husband ! " She 
 clasped him wildly in her arms. "0 God, have mercy !" 
 
 Onofrio d'Astrardente was dead. The poor old dandy, 
 in his paint and his wig and his padding, had died at his 
 wife's feet, protesting his love for her to the last. The 
 long averted blow had fallen. For years he had guarded 
 himself against sudden emotions, for he was warned of 
 the disease at his heart, and knew his danger ; but his 
 anger had killed him. He might have lived another 
 hour while his rage lasted ; but the revulsion of feeling, 
 the sudden repentance for the violence he had done 
 his wife, had sent the blood back to its source too 
 quickly, and with his last cry of love upon his lips he 
 was dead. 
 
 Corona had hardly ever seen death. She gently lowered 
 the dead man's weight till he lay at full length upon the 
 floor. Then she started to her feet, and drew back against 
 the fireplace, and gazed at the body of her husband. 
 
 For fully five minutes she stood motionless, scarcely 
 daring to draw breath, dazed and stupefied with horror, 
 trying to realise what had happened. There he lay, her 
 only friend, the companion of her life since she had 
 known life ; the man who in that very room, but two 
 nights since, had spoken such kind words to her that her 
 tears had flowed the tears that would not flow now; the 
 man who but a moment since was railing at her in a 
 paroxysm of rage whose anger had melted at her first 
 word of defence, who had fallen at her feet to ask for 
 giveness, and to declare once more, for the last time, that 
 he loved her ! Her friend, her companion, her husband 
 had he heard her answer, that she forgave him freely ? 
 He could not be dead it was impossible. A moment 
 ago he had been speaking to her. She went forward 
 again and kneeled beside him. 
 
SABACIKESCA. 218 
 
 " Onofrio," she said very gently, " yon are not dead 
 you heard me ? " 
 
 She gazed down for a moment at the motionless features. 
 Womanly thoughtful, she moved his head a little, and 
 straightened the wig upon his poor forehead. Then, in 
 an instant, she realised all, and with a wild cry of de 
 spair fell prostrate upon his body in an agony of passion 
 ate weeping. How long she lay, she knew not. A knock 
 at the door did not reach her ears, nor another and another, 
 at short intervals ; and then some one entered. It was 
 the butler, who had come to announce the mid-day break 
 fast. He uttered an exclamation and started back, hold 
 ing the handle of the door in his hand. 
 
 Corona raised herself slowly to her knees, gazing down 
 once more upon the dead man's face. Then she lifted 
 her streaming eyes and saw the servant. 
 
 " Your master is dead," she said, solemnly. 
 
 The man grew pale and trembled, hesitated, and then 
 turned and fled down the hall without, after the manner 
 of Italian servants, who fear death, and even the sight of 
 it, as they fear nothing else in the world. 
 
 Corona rose to her feet and brushed the tears from her 
 eyes. Then she turned and rang the bell. No one an 
 swered the summons for some time. The news had spread 
 all over the house in an instant, and everything was dis 
 organised. At last a woman came and stood timidly at 
 the door. She was a lower servant, a simple strong crea 
 ture from the mountains. Seeing the others terrified and 
 paralysed, it had struck her common-sense that her mis 
 tress was alone. Corona understood. 
 
 " Help me to carry him," she said, quietly ; and the 
 peasant and the noble lady stooped and lifted the dead 
 duke, and bore him to his chamber without a word, and 
 laid him tenderly upon his bed. 
 
 " Send for the doctor," said Corona ; " I will watch 
 beside him." 
 
 " But, Excellency, are you not afraid ? " asked the 
 
 woman. 
 Vol. 1010 
 
214 SARACINESCA. 
 
 Corona's lip curled a little. 
 
 " I am not afraid," she answered. " Send at once." 
 When the woman was gone, she sat down by the bedside 
 and waited. Her tears were dry now, but she could not 
 think. She waited motionless for an hour. Then the old 
 physician entered softly, while a crowd of servants stood 
 without, peering timidly through the open door. Corona 
 crossed the room and quietly shut it. The physician 
 stood by the bedside. 
 
 "It is simple enough, Signora Duchessa," he said, 
 gently. " He is quite dead. It was only the day before 
 yesterday that I warned him that the heart disease was 
 worse. Can you tell me how it happened ? " 
 
 "Yes, exactly,' 3 answered Corona, in a low voice. She 
 was calm enough now. " He came into my room two 
 hours ago, and suddenly, in conversation, he became very 
 angry. Then his anger subsided in a moment, and he 
 fell at my feet." 
 
 "It is just as I expected," answered the physician, 
 quietly. " They always die in this way. I entreat you 
 to be calm to consider that all men are mortal " 
 
 "I am calm now," interrupted Corona. "I am alone. 
 Will you see that what is necessary is done quickly ? I 
 will leave you for a moment. There are people outside." 
 
 As she opened the door the gaping crowd of servants 
 slunk out of her way. With bent head she passed be 
 tween them, and went out into the great reception-rooms, 
 and sat down alone in her grief. 
 
 It was genuine, of its kind. The poor man's soul might 
 rest in peace, for she felt the real sorrow at his death 
 which he had longed for, which he had perhaps scarcely 
 dared to hope she would feel. Had it not been real, in 
 those first moments some thought would have crossed her 
 mind some faint, repressed satisfaction at being free at 
 last free to marry Giovanni Saracinesca. But it was 
 not so. She did not feel free she felt alone, intensely 
 alone. She longed for the familiar sound of his queru 
 lous voice for the expression of his thousand little 
 
SARACINESCA. 215 
 
 wants and interests; she remembered tenderly his harm 
 less little vanities. She thought of his wig, and she 
 wept. So true it is that what is most ridiculous in life 
 is most sorrowfully pathetic in death. There was not 
 one of the small things about him she did not recall with 
 a pang of regret. It was all over now. His vanity was 
 dead with him ; his tender love for her was dead too. It 
 was the only love she had known, until that other love 
 that dark and stirring passion had been roused in her. 
 But that did not trouble her now. Perhaps the uncon 
 scious sense that henceforth she was free to love whom 
 she pleased had suddenly made insignificant a feeling 
 which had before borne in her mind the terrible name of 
 crime. The struggle for loyalty was no more, but the 
 memory of what she had borne for the dead man made 
 him dearer than before. The follies of his life had been 
 many, but many of them had been for her, and there was 
 the true ring in his last words. " To be young for your 
 sake, Corona for your sake ! " The phrase echoed again 
 and again in her remembrance, and her silent tears flowed 
 afresh. The follies of his life had been many, but to 
 her he had been true. The very violence of his last 
 moments, the tenderness of his passionate appeal for 
 forgiveness, spoke for the honesty of his heart, even 
 though his heart had never been honest before. 
 
 She needed never to think again of pleasing him, of 
 helping him, of foregoing for his sake any intimacy with 
 the world which she might desire. But the thought 
 brought no relief. He had become so much a part of her 
 life that she could not conceive of living without him, 
 and she would miss him at every turn. The new exist 
 ence before her seemed dismal and empty beyond all ex 
 pression. She wondered vaguely what she should do 
 with her time. For one moment a strange longing came 
 over her to return to the dear old convent, to lay aside 
 for ever her coronet and state, and in a simple garb to do 
 simple and good things to the honour of God. 
 
 She roused herself at last, and went to her own rooms, 
 
216 SAEACINESCA. 
 
 dragging her steps slowly as though weighed down by a 
 heavy burden. She entered the room where he had died, 
 and a cold shudder passed over her. The afternoon sun 
 was streaming through the window upon the writing, 
 table where yet lay the unfinished invitation she had 
 been writing, and upon the plants and the rich orna 
 ments, upon the heavy carpet the very spot where he 
 had breathed his last word of love and died at her feet. 
 
 Upon that spot Corona d'Astrardente knelt down rever 
 ently and prayed, prayed that she might be forgiven 
 for all her shortcomings to the dear dead man ; that she 
 might have strength to bear her sorrow and to honour 
 his memory ; above all, that his soul might rest in peace 
 and find forgiveness, and that he might know that she 
 had been truly innocent she prayed for that too, for 
 she had a dreadful doubt. But surely he knew all now : 
 how she had striven to be loyal, and how truly yes, 
 how truly she mourned his death. 
 
 At last she rose to her feet, and lingered still a moment, 
 her hands clasped as they had been in her prayer. 
 Glancing down, something glistened on the carpet. She 
 stooped and picked it up. It was her husband's seal- 
 ring, engraven with the ancient arms of the Astrardente. 
 She looked long at the jewel, and then put it upon her 
 finger. 
 
 " God give me grace to honour his memory as he would 
 have me honour it," she said, solemnly. 
 
 Truly, she had deserved the love the poor old dandy 
 had so deeply felt for her. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 That night Giovanni insisted on going out. His 
 wounds no longer pained him, he said; there was no 
 danger whatever, and he was tired of staying at home. 
 But he would dine with his father as usual. He loved 
 
SABACINESCA. 217 
 
 his father's company, and when the two omitted to quar 
 rel over trifles they were very congenial. To tell the 
 truth, the differences between them arose generally from 
 the petulant quickness of the Prince ; for in his son his 
 own irascible character was joined with the melancholy 
 gravity which Giovanni inherited from his mother, and 
 in virtue of which, being taciturn, he was sometimes 
 thought long-suffering. 
 
 As usual, they sat opposite each other, and the ancient 
 butler Pasquale served them. As the man deposited 
 Giovanni's soup before him, he spoke. A certain liberty 
 was always granted to Pasquale ; Italian servants are 
 members of the family, even in princely houses. Never 
 assuming that confidence implies familiarity, they enjoy 
 the one without ever approaching the latter. Neverthe 
 less it was very rarely that Pasquale spoke to his masters 
 when they were at table. 
 
 "I beg your Excellencies' pardon " he began, as 
 
 he put down the soup-plate. 
 
 " Well, Pasquale ? " asked old Saracinesca, looking 
 sharply at the old servant from under his heavy brows. 
 
 " Have your Excellencies heard the news ? " 
 
 " What news ? No," returned the Prince. 
 
 " The Duca d'Astrardente " 
 
 "Well, what of him ?" 
 
 "Is dead.'* 
 
 "Dead!" repeated Giovanni in a loud voice, that 
 echoed to the vaulted roof of the dining-room. 
 
 "It is not true," said old Saracinesca; "I saw him in 
 the street this morning." 
 
 "Nevertheless, your Excellency," replied Pasquale, 
 "it is quite true. The gates of the palace were already 
 draped with black before the Ave Maria this evening; 
 and the porter, who is a nephew of mine, had crpe upon 
 his hat and arm. He told me that the Duca fell down 
 dead of a stroke in the Signora Duchessa's room at half- 
 past twelve to-day." 
 
 " Is that all you could learn ? ' ; asked the Prince. 
 
218 % SARACINESCA. 
 
 " Except that the Signora Duchessa was overcome with 
 grief," returned the servant, gravely. 
 
 " I should think so her husband dead of an apoplexy ! 
 It is natural," said the Prince, looking at Giovanni. The 
 latter was silent, and tried to eat as though nothing had 
 happened inwardly endeavouring not to rejoice too 
 madly at the terrible catastrophe. In his effort to con 
 trol his features, the blood rushed to his forehead, and 
 his hand trembled violently. His father saw it, but 
 made no remark. 
 
 " Poor Astrardente ! " he said. " He was not so bad as 
 people thought him." 
 
 " No," replied Giovanni, with a great effort ; " he was 
 a very good man." 
 
 " I should hardly say that," returned his father, with 
 a grim smile of amusement. " I do not think that by 
 the greatest stretch of indulgence he could be called 
 good." 
 
 "And why not?" asked the younger man, sharply 
 snatching at any possible discussion in order to conceal 
 his embarrassment. 
 
 " Why not, indeed ! Why, because he had a goodly 
 share of original sin, to which he added others of his 
 own originating but having an equal claim to originality." 
 
 " I say I think he was a very good man," repeated Gio 
 vanni, maintaining his point with an air of conviction. 
 
 " If that is your conception of goodness, it is no wonder 
 that you have not attained to sanctity," said the old man, 
 with a sneer. 
 
 " It pleases you to be witty," answered his son. " As 
 trardente did not gamble j he had no vices of late. He 
 was kind to his wife." 
 
 "No vices no. He did not steal like a fraudulent 
 bank-clerk, nor try to do murder like Del Eerice. He 
 did not deceive his wife, nor starve her to death. He had 
 therefore no vices. He was a good man." 
 
 " Let us leave poor Del Ferice alone," said Giovanni. 
 
 " I suppose you will pity him now," replied the Prince, 
 
SABACINESCA. 219 
 
 sarcastically. " You will talk differently if he dies and 
 you have to leave the country at a moment's notice, like 
 Spicca this morning." 
 
 " I should be very sorry if Del Ferice died. I should 
 never recover from it. I am not a professional duellist 
 like Spicca. And yet Casalverde deserved his death. I 
 can quite understand that Del Ferice might in the excite 
 ment of the moment have lunged at me after the halt was 
 cried, but I cannot understand how Casalverde could be 
 so infamous as not to cross his sword when he himself 
 called. It looked very much like a preconcerted arrange 
 ment. Casalverde deserved to die, for the safety of soci 
 ety. I should think that Kome had had enough of duelling 
 for a while." 
 
 " Yes ; but after all, Casalverde did not count for much. 
 I am not sure I ever saw the fellow before in my life. 
 And I suppose Del Ferice will recover. There was a 
 story this morning that he was dead ; but I went and 
 inquired myself, and found that he was better. People 
 are much shocked at this second duel. Well, it could 
 not be helped. Poor old Astrardente ! So we shall never 
 see his wig again at every ball and theatre and supper- 
 party ! There was a man who enjoyed his life to the 
 very end ! " 
 
 " I should not call it enjoyment to be built up every 
 day by one's valet, like a card-house, merely to tumble to 
 pieces again when the pins are taken out," said Giovanni. 
 
 " You do not seem so enthusiastic in his defence as you 
 were a few minutes ago," said the Prince, with a smile. 
 
 Giovanni was so much disturbed at the surprising news 
 that he hardly knew what he said. He made a desperate 
 attempt to be sensible. 
 
 " It appears to me that moral goodness and personal 
 appearance are two things," he said, oracularly. The 
 Prince burst into a loud laugh. 
 
 " Most people would say that ! Eat your dinner, Gio 
 vanni, and do not talk such arrant nonsense." 
 
 " Why is it nonsense ? Because you do not agree with 
 me?" 
 
220 SAKACINESCA. 
 
 "Because you are too much excited to talk sensibly," 
 said his father. " Do you think I cannot see it ? " 
 
 Giovanni was silent for a time. He was angry at his 
 father for detecting the cause of his vagueness, but he 
 supposed there was no help for it. At last Pasquale left 
 the room. Old Saracinesca gave a sigh of relief. 
 
 "And now, Giovannino," he said familiarly, "what 
 have you got to say for yourself ? " 
 
 " I ? " asked his son, in some surprise. 
 
 " You ! What are you going to do ? " 
 
 11 1 will stay at home," said Giovanni, shortly. 
 
 " That is not the question. You are wise to stay at 
 home, because you ought to get yourself healed of that 
 scratch. Giovanni, the Astrardente is now a widow." 
 
 " Seeing that her husband is dead of course. There 
 is vast ingenuity in your deduction," returned the younger 
 man, eyeing his father suspiciously. 
 
 " Do not be an idiot, Giovannino. I mean, that as she 
 is a widow, I have no objection to your marrying her." 
 
 "Good God, sir!" cried Giovanni, "what do you 
 mean ? " 
 
 "What I say. She is the most beautiful woman in 
 Kome. She is one of the best women I know. She will 
 have a sufficient jointure. Marry her. You will never 
 be happy with a silly little girl just out of a convent. 
 You are not that sort of man. The Astrardente is not 
 three-and-twenty, but she has had five years of the 
 world, and she has stood the test well. I shall be proud 
 to call her my daughter." 
 
 In his excitement Giovanni sprang from his seat, and 
 rushing to his father's side, threw his arms round his 
 neck and embraced him. He had never done such a 
 thing in his life. Then he remained standing, and grew 
 suddenly thoughtful. 
 
 "It is heartless of us to talk in this way," he said. 
 " The poor man is not buried yet." 
 
 "My dear boy," said the old Prince, "Astrardente is 
 dead. He hated me, and was beginning to hate you, I 
 
SAKACINESCA. 221 
 
 fancy. We were neither of us his friends, at any rate. 
 We do not rejoice at his death ; we merely regard it in 
 the light of an event which modifies our immediate fu 
 ture. He is dead, and his wife is free. So long as he 
 was alive, the fact of your loving her was exceedingly 
 unfortunate : it was injuring you and doing a wrong to 
 her. Now, on the contrary, the greatest good fortune 
 that can happen to you both is that you should marry 
 each other." 
 
 " That is true," returned Giovanni. In the suddenness 
 of the news, it had not struck him that his father would 
 ever look favourably upon the match, although the imme 
 diate possibility of the marriage had burst upon him as a 
 great light suddenly rising in a thick darkness. But his 
 nature, as strong as his father's, was a little more deli 
 cate, a shade less rough ; and even in the midst of his 
 great joy, it struck him as heartless to be discussing the 
 chances of marrying a woman whose husband was not yet 
 buried. No such scruple disturbed the geniality of the 
 old Prince. He was an honest and straightforward man 
 a man easily possessed by a single idea and he was 
 capable of profound affections. He had loved his Span 
 ish wife strongly in his own fashion, and she had loved 
 him ; but there was no one left to him now but his son, 
 whom he delighted in, and he regarded the rest of the 
 world merely as pawns to be moved into position for the 
 honour and glory of the Saracinesca. He thought no more 
 of a man's life than of the end of a cigar, smoked out 
 and fit to be thrown away. Astrardente had been noth 
 ing to him but an obstacle. It had not struck him that 
 he could ever be removed ; but since it had pleased Provi 
 dence to take him out of the way, there was no earthly 
 reason for mourning his death. All men must die it 
 was better that death should come to those who stood in 
 the way of their fellow-creatures. 
 
 " I am not at all sure that she will consent," said Gio 
 vanni, beginning to walk up and down the room. 
 
 "Bah!" ejaculated his father. "You are the best 
 match in Italy. Why should any woman refuse you ? " 
 
222 SARACINESCA. 
 
 " I am not so sure. She is not like other women. Let 
 us not talk of it now. It will not be possible to do any 
 thing for a year, I suppose. A year is a long time. 
 Meanwhile I will go to that poor man's funeral." 
 
 " Of course. So will I." 
 
 And they both went, and found themselves in a vast 
 crowd of acquaintances. No one had believed that 
 Astrardente could ever die, that the day would ever 
 come when society should know his place no more ; and 
 with one consent everybody sent their carriages to the 
 funeral, and went themselves a day or two later to the 
 great requiem Mass in the parish church. There was 
 nothing to be seen but the great black catafalque, with 
 Corona's household of servants in deep mourning liveries 
 kneeling behind it. Relations she had none, and the 
 dead man was the last of his race she was utterly alone. 
 
 " She need not have made it so terribly impressive," 
 said Madame Mayer to Valdarno when the Mass was 
 over. Madame Mayer paused beside the holy-water basin, 
 and dipping one gloved finger, she presented it to Val 
 darno with an engaging smile. Both crossed themselves. 
 
 " She need not have got it up so terribly impressively, 
 after all," she repeated. 
 
 " I daresay she will miss him at first," returned Val 
 darno, who was a kind-hearted fellow enough, and was 
 very far from realising how much he had contributed to 
 the sudden death of the old dandy. " She is a strange 
 woman. I believe she had grown fond of him." 
 
 " Oh, I know all that," said Donna Tullia, as they left 
 the church. 
 
 "Yes," answered her companion, with a significant 
 smile, " I presume you do." Donna Tullia laughed harshly 
 as she got into her carriage. 
 
 " You are detestable, Valdarno you always misunder 
 stand me. Are you going to the ball to-night ? " 
 
 " Of course. May I have the pleasure of the cotillon ? " 
 
 "If you are very good if you will go and ask the 
 news of Del Ferice." 
 
SARACINESCA. 223 
 
 " I sent this morning. He is quite out of danger, they 
 believe." 
 
 " Is he ? Oh, I am very glad I felt so very badly, 
 you know. Ah, Don Giovanni, are you recovered ? " she 
 asked coldly, as Saracinesca approached the other side of 
 the carriage. Valdarno retired to a distance, and pre 
 tended to be buttoning his greatcoat ; he wanted to see 
 what would happen. 
 
 " Thank you, yes ; I was not much hurt. This is the 
 first time I have been out, and I am glad to find an 
 opportunity of speaking to you. Let me say again how 
 profoundly I regret my f orgetfulness at the ball the other 
 night 
 
 Donna Tullia was a clever woman, and though she had 
 been very angry at the time, she was in love with Gio 
 vanni. She therefore looked at him suddenly with a 
 gentle smile, and just for one moment her fingers touched 
 his hand as it rested upon the side of the carriage. 
 
 "Do you think it was kind?" she asked, in a low 
 voice. 
 
 " It was abominable. I shall never forgive myself," 
 answered Giovanni. 
 
 "I will forgive you," answered Donna Tullia, softly. 
 She really loved him. It was the best thing in her na 
 ture, but it was more than balanced by the jealousy she 
 had conceived for the Duchessa d'Astrardente. 
 
 " Was it on that account that you quarrelled with poor 
 Del Ferice ? " she asked, after a moment's pause. " I 
 have feared it " 
 
 " Certainly not," answered Giovanni, quickly. " Pray 
 set your mind at rest. Del Ferice or any other man 
 would have been quite justified in calling me out for it 
 but it was not for that. It was not on account of you." 
 
 It would have been hard to say whether Donna Tullia' s 
 face expressed more clearly her surprise or her disap 
 pointment at the intelligence. Perhaps she had both 
 really believed herself the cause of the duel, and had 
 been flattered at the thought that men would fight for her. 
 
224 SAEACINESCA. 
 
 "Oh, I am very glad it is a great relief/' she said, 
 rather coldly. "Are you going to the ball to-night?" 
 
 " No ; I cannot dance. My right arm is bound up in 
 a sling, as you see." 
 
 " I am sorry you are not coming. Good-bye, then." 
 
 " Good-bye ; I am very grateful for your forgiveness." 
 Giovanni bowed low, and Donna Tullia's brilliant equi 
 page dashed away. 
 
 Giovanni was well satisfied at having made his peace 
 so easily, but he nevertheless apprehended danger from 
 Donna Tullia. 
 
 The next thing which interested Roman society was 
 Astrardente's will, but no one was much surprised when 
 the terms of it were known. As there were no relations, 
 everything was left to his wife. The palace in Rome, the 
 town and castle in the Sabines, the broad lands in the 
 low hill-country towards Ceprano, and what surprised 
 even the family lawyer, a goodly sum in solid English 
 securities, a splendid fortune in all, according to Roman 
 ideas. Astrardente abhorred the name of money in his 
 conversation it had been one of his affectations ; but he 
 had an excellent understanding of business, and was ex 
 ceedingly methodical in the management of his affairs. 
 The inheritance, the lawer thought, might be estimated 
 at three millions of scudi. 
 
 " Is all this wealth mine, then ? " asked Corona, when 
 the solicitor had explained the situation. 
 
 " All, Signora Duchessa. You are enormously rich." 
 
 Enormously rich ! And alone in the world. Corona 
 asked herself if she was the same woman, the same Corona 
 del Carmine who five years before had suffered in the old 
 convent the humiliation of having no pocket-money, whose 
 wedding-gown had been provided from the proceeds of a 
 little sale of the last relics of her father's once splendid 
 collection of old china and pictures. She had never 
 thought of money since she had been married ; her hus 
 band was generous, but methodical ; she never bought any 
 thing without consulting him, and the bills all went 
 
SABACIKESCA. 225 
 
 through his hands. Now and then she had rather timidly 
 asked for a small sum for some charity ; she had lacked 
 nothing that money could buy, but she never remembered 
 to have had more than a hundred francs in her purse. 
 Astrardente had once offered to give her an allowance, 
 and had seemed pleased that she refused it. He liked to 
 manage things himself, being a man of detail. 
 
 And now she was enormously rich, and alone. It was 
 a strange sensation. She felt it to be so new that she 
 innocently said so to the lawyer. 
 
 What shall I do with it all ? " 
 
 " Signora Duchessa," returned the old man, " with re 
 gard to money the question is, not what to do with it, but 
 how to do without it. You are very young, Signora 
 Duchessa." 
 
 "I shall be twenty-three in August," said Corona, 
 simply. 
 
 " Precisely. I would beg to be allowed to observe that 
 by the terms of the will, and by the laws of this country, 
 you are not the dowager-duchess, but you are in your own 
 right and person the sole and only feudal mistress and 
 holder of the title." 
 
 Am I ? " 
 
 " Certainly, with all the privileges thereto attached. It 
 may be I beg pardon for being so bold as to suggest it 
 it may be that in years to come, when time has soothed 
 your sorrow, you may wish, you may consent, to renew 
 the marriage tie." 
 
 "I doubt it but the thing is possible," said Corona, 
 quietly. 
 
 " In that case, and should you prefer to contract a mar 
 riage of inclination, you will have no difficulty in confer 
 ring your title upon your husband, with any reservations 
 you please. Your children will then inherit from you, 
 and become in their turn Dukes of Astrardente. This I 
 conceive to have been the purpose and spirit of the late 
 Duke's will. The estate, magnificent as it is, will not be 
 too large for the foundation of a new race. If you desire 
 
226 SARACINESCA. 
 
 any distinctive title, you can call yourself Duchessa del 
 Carmine d'Astrardente it would sound very well/ 7 re 
 marked the lawyer, contemplating the beautiful woman 
 before him." 
 
 "It is of little importance what I call myself," said 
 Corona. " At present I shall certainly make no change. 
 It is very unlikely that I shall ever marry." 
 
 " I trust, Signora Duchessa, that in any case you will 
 always command my most humble services." 
 
 With this protestation of fidelity the lawyer left the 
 Palazzo Astrardente, and Corona remained in her boudoir 
 in meditation of what it would be like to be the feudal 
 mistress of a great title and estate. She was very sad, 
 but she was growing used to her solitude. Her liberty 
 was strange to her, but little by little she was beginning 
 to enjoy it. At first she had missed the constant care of 
 the poor man who for five years had been her companion ; 
 she had missed his presence and the burden of thinking 
 for him at every turn of the day. But it was not for 
 long. Her memory of him was kind and tender, and for 
 months after his death the occasional sight of some object 
 associated with him brought the tears to her eyes. She 
 often wished he could walk into the room in his old way, 
 and begin talking of the thousand and one bits of town 
 gossip that interested him. But the first feeling of desola 
 tion soon passed, for he had not been more than a com 
 panion ; she could analyse every memory she had of him to 
 its source and reason. There was not in her that passionate 
 unformulated yearning for him that comes upon a loving 
 heart when its fellow is taken away, and which alone is 
 a proof that love has been real and true. She soon grew 
 accustomed to his absence. 
 
 To marry again every one would say she would be 
 right to marry and to be the mother of children, of 
 brave sons and noble girls, ah yes! that was a new 
 thought, a wonderful thought, one of many that were 
 wonderful. 
 
 Then, again, her strong nature suddenly rose in a new 
 
SABACINESCA. 227 
 
 sense of strength, and she paced the room slowly with a 
 strange expression of sternness upon her beautiful features. 
 
 "I am a power in the world," she said to herself, 
 almost starting at the truth of the thought, and yet 
 taking delight in it. "I am what men call rich and 
 powerful ; I have money, estates, castles, and palaces ; 
 I am young, I am strong. What shall I do with it all ? " 
 
 As she walked, she dreamed of raising some great in 
 stitution of charity ; she knew not for what precise object, 
 but there was room enough for charity in E-ome. The 
 great Torlonia had built churches, and hospitals, and asy 
 lums. She would do likewise ; she would make for her 
 self an interest in doing good, a satisfaction in the exercise 
 of her power to combat evil. It would be magnificent to 
 feel that she had done it herself, alone and unaided ; that 
 she had built the walls from the foundation and the cor 
 ner-stone to the eaves ; that she had entered herself into 
 the study of each detail, and herself peopled the great 
 institution with such as needed most help in the world 
 with little children, perhaps. She would visit them every 
 day, and herself provide for their wants and care for their 
 sufferings. She would give the place her husband's name, 
 and the good she would accomplish with his earthly por 
 tion might perhaps profit his soul. She would go to Padre 
 Pilippo and ask his advice. He would know what was 
 best to be done, for he knew more of the misery in Rome 
 than any one, and had a greater mind to relieve it. She 
 had seen him since her husband's death, but she had not 
 yet conceived this scheme. 
 
 And Giovanni she thought of him too ; but the habit 
 of putting him out of her heart was strong. She dimly 
 fancied that in the far future a day might come when she 
 would be justified in thinking of him if she so pleased ; 
 but for the present, her loyalty to her dead husband seemed 
 more than ever a sacred duty. She would not permit 
 herself to think of Giovanni, even though, from a general 
 point of view, she might contemplate the possibility of a 
 second marriage. She would go to Padre Mlippo and 
 
228 SAEACINESCA. 
 
 talk over everything with, him ; he would advise her 
 well. 
 
 Then a wild longing seized her to leave Kome for a 
 while, to breathe the air of the country, to get away from 
 the scene of all her troubles, of all the terrible emotions 
 that had swept over her life in the last three weeks, to 
 be alone in the hills or by the sea. It seemed dreadful 
 to be tied to her great house in the city, in her mourning, 
 shut off suddenly from the world, and bound down by the 
 chain of conventionality to a fixed method of existence. 
 She would give anything to go away. Why not ? She 
 suddenly realised what was so hard to understand, that 
 she was free to go where she pleased if only, by accident, 
 she could chance to meet Giovanni Saracinesca before she 
 left. No the thought was unworthy. She would leave 
 town at once surely she could have nothing to say to 
 Giovanni she would leave to-morrow morning. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Corona found it impossible to leave town so soon as she 
 had wished. She had indeed sent out great cart-loads of 
 furniture, servants, horses, and all the paraphernalia of an 
 establishment in the country, and she believed herself 
 ready to move at once, when she received an exceedingly 
 courteous note from Cardinal Antonelli requesting the 
 honour of being received by her the next day at twelve 
 o'clock. It was impossible to refuse, and to her great 
 annoyance she was obliged to postpone her departure 
 another twenty -four hours. She guessed that the great 
 man was the bearer of some message from the Holy 
 Father himself ; and in her present frame of mind, such 
 words of comfort could not fail to be acceptable from one 
 whom she reverenced and loved, as all who knew Pius IX. 
 did sincerely revere and love him. She did not like the 
 
SARACINESCA. 229 
 
 
 
 Cardinal, it is true ; but she did not confound the ambas 
 sador with him who sent the embassy. The Cardinal was 
 a most courteous and accomplished man of the world, and 
 Corona could not easily have explained the aversion she 
 felt for him. It is very likely that if she could have 
 understood the part he was sustaining in the great Euro 
 pean struggle of those days, she would have accorded him 
 at least the admiration he deserved as a statesman. He 
 had his faults, and they were faults little becoming a 
 cardinal of the Holy Roman Church. But few are willing 
 to consider that, though a cardinal, he was not a priest 
 that he was practically a layman who, by his own unaided 
 genius, had attained to great power, and that those faults 
 which have been charged against him with such virulence 
 would have passed, nay, actually pass, unnoticed and un- 
 censured in many a great statesman of those days and of 
 these. He was a brave man, who fought a desperate and 
 hopeless fight to his last breath, and who fought almost 
 alone a man most bitterly hated by many, at whose death 
 many rejoiced loudly and few mourned ; and to the shame 
 of many be it said, that his most obstinate adversaries, 
 those who unsparingly heaped abuse upon him during his 
 lifetime, and most unseemingly exulted over his end, were 
 the very men among whom he should have found the most 
 willing supporters and the firmest friends. But in 1865 
 he was feared, and those who reckoned without him in 
 the game of politics reckoned badly. 
 
 Corona was a woman, and very young. She had not 
 the knowledge or the experience to understand his value, 
 and she had taken a personal dislike to him when she first 
 appeared in society. He was too smooth for her; she 
 thought him false. She preferred a rougher type. Her 
 husband, on the other hand, had a boundless admiration 
 for the cardinal-statesman ; and perhaps the way in which 
 Astrardente constantly tried to impress his wife with a 
 sense of the great man's virtues, indirectly contributed to 
 increase her aversion. Nevertheless, when he sent word 
 that he desired to be received by her, she did not hesitate 
 
230 SARACINESCA. 
 
 
 
 a moment, but expressed her willingness at once. Punctu 
 ally as the gun of Sant Angelo roared out the news that 
 the sun was on the meridian, Cardinal Antonelli entered 
 Corona's house. She received him in the great drawing- 
 room. There was an air of solemnity about the meeting. 
 The room itself, divested of a thousand trifles which had 
 already been sent into the country, looked desolate and 
 formal ; the heavy curtains admitted but little light ; there 
 was no fire on the hearth ; Corona stood all in black a 
 very incarnation of mourning as her visitor trod softly 
 across the dark carpet towards her. 
 
 The Cardinal's expressive face was softened by a look of 
 gentle sympathy, as he came forward and took her hand 
 in both of his, and gazed for a moment into her beautiful 
 eyes. 
 
 " I am an ambassador, Duchessa," he said softly. " I 
 come to tell you how deeply our Holy Father sympathises 
 in your great sorrow." 
 
 Corona bent her head respectfully, and motioned to the 
 Cardinal to be seated. 
 
 "I beg that your Eminence will convey to his Holiness 
 my most sincere gratitude for this expression of his pater 
 nal kindness to one so unhappy." 
 
 " Indeed I will not fail to deliver your message, Duch 
 essa," answered the Cardinal, seating himself by her side 
 in one of the great arm-chairs which had been placed to 
 gether in the middle of the room. "His Holiness has 
 promised to remember you in his august prayers ; and I 
 also, for my own part, entreat you to believe that my 
 poor sympathy is wholly with you in your distress." 
 
 "Your Eminence is most kind," replied Corona, gravely. 
 
 It seemed as though there were little more to be said 
 in such a case. There was no friendship between the 
 two, no bond of union or fellowship : it was simply a 
 formal visit of condolence, entailed as a necessity by 
 Corona's high position. The Pope had sent her a gift at 
 her wedding ; he sent her a message of sympathy at her 
 husband's death. Half-a-dozen phrases would be ex- 
 
SARACINESCA. 231 
 
 changed, and the Cardinal would take his leave, accom 
 panied by a file of the Duchessa's lackeys and so it 
 would all be over. But the Cardinal was a statesman, a 
 diplomatist, and one of the best talkers in Europe; 
 moreover, he never allowed an opportunity of pursuing 
 his ends to pass unimproved. 
 
 " Ah, Duchessa ! " he said, folding his hands upon his 
 knee and looking down, "there is but one Consoler in 
 sorrow such as yours. It is vain for us mortals to talk 
 of any such thing as alleviating real mental suffering. 
 There are consolations many of them for some people, 
 but they are not for you. To many the accidents of 
 wealth, of youth, of beauty, seem to open the perspective 
 of a brilliant future at the very moment when all the 
 present appears to be shrouded in darkness ; but if you 
 will permit me, who know you so little, to say it frankly, 
 I do not believe that any of these things which you pos 
 sess in such plentiful abundance will lessen the measure 
 of your grief. It is not right that they should, I suppose. 
 It is not fitting that noble minds should even possess the 
 faculty of forgetting real suffering in the unreal trifles 
 of a great worldly possession, which so easily restore the 
 weak to courage, and flatter the vulgar into the forgetful- 
 ness of honourable sorrow. I am no moraliser, no pedan 
 tic philosopher. The stoic may have shrugged his heavy 
 shoulders in sullen indifference to fate ; the epicurean 
 may have found such bodily ease in his excessive refine 
 ment of moderate enjoyment as to overlook the deepest 
 afflictions in anticipating the animal pleasure of the next 
 meal. I cannot conceive of such men as those philoso 
 phising diners; nor can I imagine by what arguments 
 the wisest of mankind could induce a fellow-creature in 
 distress to forget his sufferings. Sorrow is sorrow still 
 to all finely organised natures. The capacity for feeling 
 sorrow is one of the highest tests of nobility a nobility 
 of nature not found always in those of high blood and 
 birth, but existing in the people, wherever the people are 
 good." 
 
232 SARACINESCA. 
 
 The Cardinal's voice became even more gentle as he 
 spoke. He was himself of very humble origin, and spoke 
 feelingly. Corona listened, though she only heard half 
 of what he said ; but his soft tone soothed her almost 
 unconsciously. 
 
 " There is little consolation for me I am quite alone/' 
 she said. 
 
 " You are not of those who find relief in worldly great 
 ness/ 7 continued the Cardinal. " But I have seen women, 
 young, rich, and beautiful, wear their mourning with 
 wonderful composure. Youth is so much, wealth is so 
 much more, beauty is such a power in the world all 
 three together are resistless. Many a young widow is 
 not ashamed to think of marriage before her husband has 
 been dead a month. Indeed they do not always make 
 bad wives. A woman who has been married young and 
 is early deprived of her husband, has great experience, 
 great knowledge of the world. Many feel that they have 
 no right to waste the goods given them in a life of soli 
 tary mourning. Wealth is given to be used, and perhaps 
 many a rich young widow thinks she can use it more 
 wisely in the company of a husband young as herself. 
 It may be ; I cannot tell. These are days when power of 
 any sort should be used, and perhaps no one should even 
 for a moment think of withdrawing from the scene where 
 such great battles are being fought. But one may choose 
 wisely a way of using power, or one may choose unwisely. 
 There is much to be done." 
 
 " How ? " asked Corona, catching at his expression of 
 an idea which pursued her. "Here am I, rich, alone, 
 idle above all, very unhappy. What can I do ? I wish 
 I knew, for I would try and do it." 
 
 " Ah ! I was not speaking of you, Duchessa," answered 
 the statesman. " You are too noble a woman to be easily 
 consoled. And yet, though you may not find relief from 
 your great sorrow, there are many things within your reach 
 which you might do, and feel that in your mourning you 
 have done honour to your departed husband as well as to 
 
SARACINESCA. 233 
 
 yourself. You have great estates you can improve them, 
 and especially you can improve the condition of your peas 
 ants, and strengthen their loyalty to you and to the State. 
 You can find many a village on your lands where a school 
 might be established, an asylum built, a road opened 
 anything which shall give employment to the poor, and 
 which, when finished, shall benefit their condition. Espe 
 cially about Astrardente they are very poor j I know the 
 country well. In six months you might change many 
 things ; and then you might return to Rome next winter. 
 If it pleases you, you can do anything with society. You 
 can make your house a centre for a new party the old 
 est of all parties it is, but it would now be thought new 
 here. We have no centre. There is no salon in the good 
 old sense of the word no house where all that is intelli 
 gent, all that is powerful, all that is influential, is irresist 
 ibly drawn. To make a centre of that kind would be a 
 worthy object, it seems to me. You would surround your 
 self with men of genius ; you would bring those together 
 who cannot meet elsewhere ; you would give a vigorous 
 tone to a society which is fast falling to decay from in 
 anition ; you could become a power, a real power, not only 
 in Rome, but in Europe; you could make your house 
 famous as the point from which, in Rome, all that is good 
 and great should radiate to the very ends of the earth. 
 You could do all this in your young widowhood, and you 
 would not dishonour the memory of him you loved so 
 dearly." 
 
 Corona looked earnestly at the Cardinal as he enlarged 
 upon the possibilities of her life. What he said seemed 
 true and good. It opened to her a larger field than she 
 had dreamed of half an hour ago. Especially the plan 
 of working for the improvement of her estates and peo 
 ple attracted her. She wanted to do something at once 
 something good, and something worth doing. 
 
 " I believe you are right," she said. " I shall die if I 
 am idle." 
 
 "I know I am right," returned the Cardinal, in a tone of 
 
234 SABACIKESCA. 
 
 conviction. "Not that I propose all this as an unalterable 
 plan for you. I would not have you think I mean to lay 
 down any system, or even to advise you at all. I was 
 merely thinking aloud. I am too happy if my thoughts 
 please you if anything I say can even for a moment 
 relieve your mind from the pressure of this sudden grief. 
 It is not consolation I offer you. I am not a priest, but 
 a man of action ; and it is action I propose to you, not as 
 an anodyne for sorrow, but simply because it is right that 
 in these days we should all strive with a good will. Your 
 peasants are many of them in an evil case : you can save 
 them and make them happy, even though you find no 
 happiness for yourself. Our social world here is falling 
 to pieces, going astray after strange gods, and especially 
 after Madame Mayer and her lares and penates, young 
 Valdarno and Del Ferice : it is in your power to create a 
 new life here, or at least to contribute greatly towards re 
 establishing the social balance. I say, do this thing, if 
 you will, for it is a good thing to do. At all events, 
 while you are building roads and perhaps schools at 
 Astrardente, you can think over the course you will after 
 wards pursue. And now, my dear Duchessa, I have de 
 tained you far too long. Forgive me if I have wearied 
 you, for I have great things at heart, and must sometimes 
 speak of them though I speak feebly. Count on me 
 always for any assistance you may require. Bear with 
 me if I weary you, for I was a good friend of him we 
 both mourn." 
 
 ' ' Thank you you have given me good thoughts," said 
 Corona, simply. 
 
 So the courtly Cardinal rose and took his leave, and 
 once more Corona was left alone. It was a strange thing 
 that, while he disclaimed all power to comfort her, and 
 denied that consolation was possible in her case, she had 
 nevertheless listened to him with interest, and now found 
 herself thinking seriously of what he had said. He 
 seemed to have put her thoughts into shape, and to have 
 given direction to that sense of power she had already 
 
SARACINESCA. 235 
 
 begun to feel. For the first time in her life she felt 
 something like sympathy for the Cardinal, and she lin 
 gered for some minutes alone in the great reception-room, 
 wondering whether she could accomplish any of the 
 things he had proposed to her. At all events, there was 
 nothing now to hinder her departure ; and she thought 
 with something like pleasure of the rocky Sabines, the 
 solitude of the mountains, the simple faces of the people 
 about her place, and of the quiet life she intended to lead 
 there during the next six months. 
 
 But the Cardinal went on his way, rolling along through 
 the narrow streets in his great coach. Leaning far back 
 in *his cushioned seat, he could just catch a glimpse of 
 the people as he passed, and his quick eyes recognised 
 many, both high and low. But he did not care to show 
 himself, for he felt himself disliked, and deep in his 
 finely organised nature there lay a sensitiveness which 
 was wounded by the popular hatred. It hurt him to see 
 the lowering glances of the poor man, and to return the 
 forced bow of the rich man who feared him. He often 
 longed to be able to explain many things to them both, 
 to the rich and to the poor; and then, knowing how 
 impossible it was that he should be understood by either, 
 he sighed somewhat bitterly, and hid himself still deeper 
 in his carriage. Few men in the midst of the world have 
 stood so wholly alone as Cardinal Antonelli. 
 
 To-day, however, he had an appointment which he 
 anticipated with a sort of interest quite new to him. 
 Anastase Gouache was coming to begin his portrait, and 
 Anastase was an object of curiosity to him. It would 
 have surprised the young Frenchman had he guessed how 
 carefully he was watched, for he was a modest fellow, 
 and did not think himself of very much importance. He 
 allowed Donna Tullia and her friends to come to his 
 studio whenever they pleased, and he listened to their 
 shallow talk, and joined occasionally in the conversation, 
 letting them believe that he sympathised with them, 
 simply because his own ideas were unsettled. It was a 
 
236 SAKACINESCA. 
 
 good thing for him to paint a portrait of Donna Tullia, 
 for it made him the fashion, and he had small scruple in 
 agreeing with her views so long as he had no fixed con 
 victions of his own. She and her set regarded him as a 
 harmless boy, and looked upon his little studio as a con 
 venience, in payment whereof they pushed him into 
 society, and spread abroad the rumour that he was the 
 rising artist of the day. But the great Cardinal had 
 seen him more than once, and had conceived a liking for 
 his delicate intellectual face and unobtrusive manner. 
 He had watched him and caused him to be watched, and 
 his interest had increased, and finally he had taken a 
 fancy to have a portrait of himself painted by the young 
 fellow. This was the day appointed for the first sitting ; 
 and when the Cardinal reached his lodgings, high up in 
 the Vatican pile, he found Anastase Gouache waiting for 
 him in the small ante-chamber. 
 
 The prime minister was not luxuriously lodged. Four 
 rooms sufficed him to wit, the said ante-chamber, bare 
 and uncarpeted, and furnished with three painted wooden 
 box benches ; a comfortable study lined throughout with 
 shelves and lockers, furnished with half-a-dozen large 
 chairs and a single writing-table, whereon stood a crucifix 
 and an inkstand; beyond this a bedroom and a small 
 dining-room : that was all. The drawers of the lockers 
 and bookcases contained a correspondence which would 
 have astonished Europe, and a collection of gems and 
 precious stones unrivalled in the world ; but there was 
 nothing in the shape of ornament visible to the eye, 
 unless one were to class under that head a fairly good 
 bust of Pius IX., which stood upon a plain marble ped 
 estal in one corner. Gouache followed the great man 
 into this study. He was surprised by the simplicity of 
 the apartment ; but he felt in sympathy with it, and with 
 the Cardinal himself ; and with the intuitive knowledge 
 of a true artist, he foresaw that he was to paint a success 
 ful portrait. 
 
 The Cardinal busied himself with some papers while 
 the painter silently made his preparations. 
 
6ARACINESCA. 237 
 
 " If your Eminence is ready ? " suggested Gouache. 
 
 "At your service, my friend/' replied the Cardinal, 
 blandly. " How shall I sit ? The portrait must be taken 
 in full face, I think." 
 
 " By all means. Here, I think so ; the light is very 
 good at this hour, but a little later we shall have the sun. 
 If your Eminence will look at me a little more to the 
 left I think that will do. I will draw it in in charcoal, 
 and your Eminence can judge." 
 
 " Precisely/ 7 returned the Cardinal. " You will paint 
 the devil even blacker than he is." 
 
 " The devil ? " repeated Gouache, raising his eyebrows 
 with a slight smile. "I was not aware " 
 
 " And yet you have been in Kome four years ! " 
 
 " I am very careful," returned Gouache. " I never by 
 any chance hear any evil of those whom I am to paint. 7 ' 
 
 " You have very well-bred ears, Monsieur Gouache. I 
 fear that if I had attended some of the meetings in your 
 studio while Donna Tullia was having her portrait 
 painted, I should have heard strange things. Have 
 they all escaped you ? " 
 
 Gouache was silent for a moment. It did not surprise 
 him to learn that the omniscient Cardinal was fully 
 acquainted with the doings in his studio, but he looked 
 curiously at the great man before he answered. The 
 Cardinal's small gleaming eyes met his with the fearless 
 ness of superiority. 
 
 " I remember nothing but good of your Eminence/ 7 the 
 painter replied at last, with a laugh ; and applying him 
 self to his work, he began to draw in the outline of the 
 Cardinal's head. The words he had just heard, implying 
 as they did a thorough knowledge of the minutest details 
 of social life, would have terrified Madame Mayer, and 
 would perhaps have driven Del Ferice out of the Papal 
 States in fear of his life. Even the good-natured and 
 foolish Valdarno might reasonably have been startled ; 
 but Anastase was made of different stuff. His grand 
 father had helped to storm the Bastille, his father had 
 
 Vol. 1011 
 
238 SAKACINESCA. 
 
 been among the men of 1848 ; there was revolutionary 
 blood in his veins, and he distinguished between real and 
 imaginary conspiracy with the unerring certainty of in 
 stinct, as the bloodhound knows the track of man from 
 the slot of meaner game. He laughed at Donna Tullia, he 
 distrusted Del Ferice, and to some extent he understood 
 the Cardinal. And the statesman understood him, too, 
 and was interested by him. 
 
 " You may as well forget their chatter. It does me no 
 harm, and it amuses them. It does not seem to surprise 
 you that I should know all about it, however. You have 
 good nerves, Monsieur Gouache." 
 
 " Of course your Eminence can send me out of Rome to 
 morrow, if you please," answered Gouache, with perfect 
 unconcern. " But the portrait will not be finished so soon." 
 
 "No that wbuld be a pity. You shall stay. But 
 the others what would you advise me to do with 
 them ? " asked the Cardinal, his bright eyes twinkling 
 with amusement. 
 
 " If by the others your Eminence means my friends," 
 replied Gouache, quietly, " I can assure you that none of 
 them will ever cause you the slightest inconvenience." 
 
 " I believe you are right their ability to annoy me is 
 considerably inferior to their inclination. Is it not so ? " 
 
 "If your Eminence will allow me," said Gouache, ris 
 ing suddenly and laying down his charcoal pencil, " I will 
 pin this curtain across the window. The sun is begin 
 ning to come in." 
 
 He had no intention of answering any questions. If 
 the Cardinal knew of the meetings in the Via San Basilio, 
 that was not Gouache's fault j Gouache would certainly 
 not give any further information. The statesman had 
 expected as much, and was not at all surprised at the 
 young man's silence. 
 
 " One of those young gentlemen seems to have met his 
 match, at all events," he remarked, presently. "I am 
 sorry it should have come about in that way." 
 
 " Your Eminence might easily have prevented the duel." 
 
SARACINESCA. 
 
 "I knew nothing about it," answered the Cardinal, 
 glancing keenly at Anastase. 
 
 " Nor I," said the artist, simply. 
 
 "You see my information is not always so good as 
 people imagine, my friend." 
 
 " It is a pity," remarked G-ouache. " It would have 
 been better had poor Del Ferice been killed outright. 
 The matter would have terminated there." 
 
 " Whereas " 
 
 " Whereas Del Ferice will naturally seek an occasion 
 for revenge." 
 
 " You speak as though you were a friend of Don Gio 
 vanni's," said the Cardinal. 
 
 " No ; I have a very slight acquaintance with him. I 
 admire him, he has such a fine head. I should be sorry 
 if anything happened to him." 
 
 " Do you think Del Ferice is capable of murdering him ? " 
 
 " Oh no ! He might annoy him a great deal." 
 
 "I think not," answered the Cardinal, thoughtfully. 
 " Del Ferice was afraid that Don Giovanni would marry 
 Donna Tullia and spoil his own projects. But Giovanni 
 will not think of that again." 
 
 " No ; I suppose Don Giovanni will marry the Duchessa* 
 d'Astrardente." 
 
 "Of course," replied the Cardinal. For some minuter- 
 there was silence. Gouache, while busy with his pencil, 
 was wondering at the interest the great man took in such 
 details of the Eoman social life. The Cardinal was 
 thinking of Corona, whom he had seen but half an hour 
 ago, and was revolving in his mind the advantages that 
 might be got by allying her to Giovanni. He had in view 
 for her a certain Serene Highness whom he wished to 
 conciliate, and whose circumstances were not so splendid 
 as to make Corona's fortune seem insignificant to him. 
 But on the other hand, the Cardinal had no Serene High 
 ness ready for Giovanni, and feared lest he should 
 after all marry Donna Tullia, and get into the opposite 
 camp. 
 
240 SARACINESCA. 
 
 "You are from Paris, Monsieur Gouache, I believe," 
 said the Cardinal at last. 
 
 " Parisian of the Parisians, your Eminence." 
 
 "How can you bear to live in exile so long? You 
 have not been to your home these four years, I think." 
 
 " I would rather live in Rome for the present. I will 
 go to Paris some day. It will always be a pleasant recol 
 lection to have seen Kome in these days. My friends 
 write me that Paris is gay, but not pleasant." 
 
 " You think there will soon be nothing of this time left 
 but the recollection of it ? " suggested the Cardinal. 
 
 "I do not know what to think. The times seem un 
 settled, and so are my ideas. I was told that your Emi' 
 nence would help me to decide what to believe." Gouache 
 smiled pleasantly, and looked up. 
 
 "And who told you that ? " 
 
 " Don Giovanni Saracinesca." 
 
 "But I must have some clue to what your ideas are," 
 said the Cardinal. " When did Don Giovanni say that ? " 
 
 " At Prince Frangipani's. He had been talking with 
 your Eminence perhaps he had come to some conclusion 
 in consequence," suggested Gouache. 
 
 " Perhaps so," answered the great man, with a look of 
 considerable satisfaction. " At all events I am nattered 
 by the opinion he gave you of me. Perhaps I may help 
 you to decide. What are your opinions ? or rather, what 
 would you like your opinions to be ? " 
 
 " I am an ardent republican," said Gouache, boldly. It 
 needed no ordinary courage to make such a statement to 
 the incarnate chief of reactionary politics in those days 
 within the walls of the Vatican, not a hundred yards from 
 the private apartments of the Holy Father. But Cardinal 
 Antonelli smiled blandly, and seemed not in the least sur 
 prised nor offended. 
 
 " Eepublicanism is an exceedingly vague term, Mon 
 sieur Gouache," he said. "But with what other opin 
 ions do you wish to reconcile your republicanism ? " 
 
 " With those held by the Church. I am a good Catholic, 
 
SABACINESCA. 241 
 
 and I desire to remain one indeed I cannot help remain 
 ing one." 
 
 "Christianity is not vague, at all events/ 7 answered 
 the Cardinal, who, to tell the truth, was somewhat aston 
 ished at the artist's juxtaposition of two such principles. 
 " In the first place, allow me to observe, my friend, that 
 Christianity is the purest form of a republic which the 
 world has ever seen, and that it therefore only depends 
 upon your good sense to reconcile in your own mind two 
 ideas which from the first have been indissolubly bound 
 together." 
 
 It was G-ouache's turn to be startled at the Cardinal's 
 confidence. 
 
 " I am afraid I must ask your Eminence for some fur 
 ther explanation/' he said. "I had no idea that Chris 
 tianity and republicanism were the same thing." 
 
 " Republicanism," returned the statesman, " is a vague 
 term, invented in an abortive attempt to define by one 
 word the mass of inextricable disorder arising in our 
 times from the fusion of socialistic ideas with ideas purely 
 republican. If you mean to speak of this kind of thing, 
 you must define precisely your position in regard to 
 socialism, and in regard to the pure theory of a common 
 wealth. If you mean to speak of a real republic in any 
 known form, such as the ancient Roman, the Dutch, or the 
 American, I understand you without further explanation." 
 
 "I certainly mean to speak of the pure republic. I 
 believe that under a pure republic the partition of wealth 
 would take care of itself." 
 
 " Very good, my friend. Now, with regard to the early 
 Christians, should you say that their communities were 
 monarchic, or aristocratic, or oligarchic ? " 
 
 " None of those three, I should think," said Gouache, 
 
 "There are only two systems left, then democracy 
 and hierarchy. You will probably say that the govern 
 ment of the early Christians was of the latter kind that 
 they were governed by priests, in fact. But on the other 
 hand, there is no doubt that both those who governed, 
 
242 SAKACINESCA. 
 
 and those who were governed by them, had all things in 
 common, regarded no man as naturally superior to an 
 other, and preached a fraternity and equality at least as 
 sincere as those inculcated by the first French Republic. 
 I do not see how you can avoid calling such community 
 a republic, seeing that there was an equal partition of 
 wealth ; and defining it as a democratic one, seeing that 
 they all called each other brethren." 
 
 " But the hierarchy what became of it ? " inquired 
 Gouache. 
 
 " The hierarchy existed within the democracy, by com 
 mon consent and for the public good, and formed a sec 
 ond democracy of smaller extent but greater power. Any 
 man might become a priest, any priest might become a 
 bishop, any bishop might become pope, as surely as any 
 born citizen of Rome could become consul, or any native 
 of New York may be elected President of the United 
 States. Now in theory this was beautiful, and in prac 
 tice the democratic spirit of the hierarchy, the smaller re 
 public, has survived in undiminished vigour to the present 
 day. In the original Christian theory the whole world 
 should now be one vast republic, in which all Christians 
 should call each other brothers, and support each other 
 in worldly as well as spiritual matters. Within this 
 should exist the smaller republic of the hierarchy, by 
 common consent, an elective body, recruiting its num 
 bers from the larger, as it does now ; choosing its head, 
 the sovereign Pontiff, as it does now, to be the head of 
 both Church and State ; eminently fitted for that position, 
 for the very simple reason that in a community organised 
 and maintained upon such principles, in which, by virtue 
 of the real and universal love of religion, the best men 
 would find their way into the Church, and would ulti 
 mately find their way to the papal throne." 
 
 " Your Eminence states the case very convincingly," 
 answered Gouache. " But why has the larger republic, 
 which was to contain the smaller one, ceased to exist ? 
 or rather, why did it never come into existence ? " 
 
SAKACINESCA. 243 
 
 " Because man has not yet fulfilled Ms part in the great 
 contract. The matter lies in a nutshell. The men who 
 enter the Church are sufficiently intelligent and well 
 educated to appreciate the advantages of Christian democ 
 racy, fellowship, solidarity, and brotherly love. The 
 republic of the Church has therefore survived, and will 
 survive for ever. The men who form the majority, on 
 the other hand, have never had either the intelligence or 
 the education to understand that democracy is the ulti 
 mate form of government : instead of forming themselves 
 into a federation, they have divided themselves into 
 hostile factions, calling themselves nations, and seeking 
 every occasion for destroying and plundering each other, 
 frequently even turning against the Church herself. The 
 Church has committed faults in history, without doubt, 
 but on the whole she has nobly fulfilled her contract, and 
 reaps the fruits of fidelity in the vigour and unity she 
 displays after eighteen centuries. Man, on the other 
 hand, has failed to do his duty, and all races of men are 
 consequently suffering for their misdeeds j the nations are 
 divided against each other, and every nation is a house 
 divided against itself, which sooner or later shall fall." 
 
 "But," objected Gouache, " allowing, as one easily may, 
 that all this is true, your Eminence is always called reac 
 tionary in politics. Does that accord with these views ?" 
 
 Gouache believed the question unanswerable, but as he 
 put it he worked calmly on with his pencil, labouring 
 hard to catch something of the Cardinal's striking expres 
 sion in the rough drawing he was making. 
 
 " Nothing is easier, my friend," replied the statesman. 
 " The republic of the Church is driven to bay. We are 
 on a war footing. For the sake of strength we are 
 obliged to hold together so firmly that for the time we 
 can only think of maintaining old traditions without 
 dreaming of progress or spending time in experiments. 
 When we have weathered the storm we shall have leisure 
 for improving much that needs improvement. Do not 
 think that if I am alive twenty years hence I shall advise 
 
244 SARACINESCA. 
 
 what I advise now. We are fighting now, and we have 
 no time to think of the arts of peace. We shall have 
 peace some day. We shall lose an ornament or two from 
 our garments in the struggle, but our body will not be 
 injured, and in time of peace our ornaments will be re 
 stored to us fourfold. But now there is war and rumour 
 of war. There is a vast difference between the ideal 
 republic which I was speaking of, and the real anarchy 
 and confusion which would be brought about by what is 
 called republicanism." 
 
 "In other words, if the attack upon the Church were 
 suddenly abandoned, your Eminence would immediately 
 abandon your reactionary policy," said Gouache, " and 
 adopt progressive views ? " 
 
 " Immediately," replied the Cardinal. 
 
 " I see," said Gouache. " A little more towards me 
 just so that I can catch that eye. Thank you that will 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 When Del Fence was thought sufficiently recovered of 
 his wound to hear some of the news of the day, which 
 was about three weeks after the duel, he learned that 
 Astrardente was dead, that the Duchessa had inherited 
 all his fortune, and that she was on the point of leaving 
 Eome. It would be hard to say how the information of 
 her approaching departure had got abroad ; it might be 
 merely a clever guess of the gossips, or it might be the 
 report gleaned from her maid by all the other maids in 
 town. Be that as it may, when Del Ferice heard it he 
 ground his teeth as he lay upon his bed, and swore that 
 if it were possible to prevent the Duchessa d' Astrardente 
 from leaving town he would do it. In his judgment it 
 would be a dangerous thing to let Corona and Giovanni 
 part, and to allow Donna Tullia free play in her matri- 
 
SAKACINESCA. 245 
 
 monial designs. Of course Giovanni would never marry 
 Madame Mayer, especially as he was now at liberty to 
 marry the Astrardente; but Madame Mayer herself 
 might become fatally interested in him, as she already 
 seemed inclined to be, and this would be bad for Del 
 Ferice's own prospects. It would not do to squander 
 any of the advantages gained by the death of the old 
 Duca. Giovanni must be hastened into a marriage with 
 Corona; it would be time enough to think of revenge 
 upon him afterwards for the ghastly wound that took so 
 long to heal. 
 
 It was a pity that Del Ferice and Donna Tullia were 
 not allies, for if Madame Mayer hated Corona d ? Astrar 
 dente, Ugo del Ferice detested Giovanni with equal viru- 
 lency, not only because he had been so terribly worsted 
 by him in the duel his own vile conduct had made inevi 
 table, but because Donna Tullia loved him and was doing 
 her very best to marry him. Evidently the best thing 
 to be done was to produce a misunderstanding between 
 the two ; but it would be dangerous to play any tricks 
 with Giovanni, for he held Del Ferice in his power by his 
 knowledge of that disagreeable scene behind the plants 
 in the conservatory. Saracinesca was a great man in 
 society and celebrated for his honesty ; people would be 
 lieve him rather than Del Ferice, if the story got abroad. 
 This would not do. The next best thing was to endeavour 
 to draw Giovanni and Corona together as quickly as pos 
 sible, to precipitate their engagement, and thus to clear 
 the field of a dangerous rival. Del Ferice was a very 
 obstinate and a very intelligent man. He meant more 
 than ever to marry Donna Tullia himself, and he would 
 not be hindered in the accomplishment of his object by 
 an insignificant scruple. 
 
 He was not allowed to speak much, lest the effort 
 should retard the healing of his throat ; but in the long 
 days and nights, when he lay silent in his quiet lodging, 
 he had ample time to revolve many schemes in his brain. 
 At last he no longer needed the care of the Sister of 
 
246 SAKACINESCA. 
 
 Mercy ; his servant took charge of him, and the surgeon 
 came twice a-day to dress his wound. He lay in bed 
 one morning watching Temistocle, who moved noiselessly 
 about the room. 
 
 "Temistocle," he said, "you are a youth of intelli 
 gence : you must use the gifts nature has given you." 
 
 Temistocle was at that time not more than five-and- 
 twenty years of age. He had a muddy complexion, a 
 sharp hooked nose, and a cast in one eye that gave him 
 a singularly unpleasant expression. As his master ad 
 dressed him, he stood still and listened with a sort of 
 distorted smile in acknowledgment of the compliment 
 made him. 
 
 "Temistocle, you must find out when the Duchessa 
 d'Astrardente means to leave Kome, and where she is 
 going. You know somebody in the house ? " 
 
 "Yes, sir the under-cook; he stood godfather with 
 me for the baby of a cousin of mine the young man 
 who drives Prince Valdarno's private brougham : a clever 
 fellow, too." 
 
 " And this under-cook," said Del Ferice, who was not 
 above entering into details with his servant " is he a 
 discreet character ? " 
 
 "Oh, for that, you may trust him. Only sometimes 
 Temistocle grinned, and made a gesture which 
 signified drinking. 
 
 " And when he is drunk ? " asked Del Ferice. 
 
 " When he is drunk he tells everything ; but he never 
 remembers anything he has been told, or has said. When 
 he is drunk he is a dictionary ; but the first draught of 
 water washes out his memory like a slate." 
 
 "Well give me my purse; it is under my pillow. 
 Go. Here is a scudo, Temistocle. You can make him 
 very drunk for that." 
 
 Temistocle hesitated, and looked at the money. 
 
 "Another couple of pauls would make it safer," he 
 remarked. 
 
 " Well, there they are j but you must make him very 
 
SABACINESCA. 247 
 
 drunk indeed. You must find out all lie knows, and you 
 must keep sober yourself." 
 
 " Leave that to me. I will make of him a sponge ; he 
 shall be squeezed dry, and sopped again and squeezed 
 again. I will be his confessor." 
 
 " If you find out what I want, I will give you " Del 
 
 Ferice hesitated ; he did not mean to give too much. 
 
 " The grey trousers ? " asked Temistocle, with an avari 
 cious light in the eye which did not wander. 
 
 "Yes," answered his master, rather regretfully ; " I sup 
 pose you must have the grey trousers at last." 
 
 " For those grey trousers I will upset heaven and earth," 
 returned Temistocle in great glee. 
 
 Nothing more was said on that day, but early on the 
 following morning the man entered and opened the shut 
 ters, and removed the little oil-light that had burned all 
 night. He kept one eye upon his master, who presently 
 turned slowly and looked inquiringly at him. 
 
 " The Duchessa goes to Astrardente in the Sabines on 
 the day after to-morrow," said Temistocle. " It is quite 
 sure that she goes, because she has already sent out two 
 pairs of horses, and several boxes of effects, besides the 
 second housemaid and the butler and two grooms." 
 
 " Ah ! that is very good. Temistocle, I think I will 
 get up this morning and sit in the next room." 
 
 " And the grey trousers ? " 
 
 "Take them, and wear them in honour of the most 
 generous master living," said Del Ferice, impressively. 
 " It is not every master who gives his servant a pair of 
 grey trousers. Remember that." 
 
 " Heaven bless you, Signer Conte ! " exclaimed Temis 
 tocle, devoutly. 
 
 Del Ferice lost no time. He was terribly weak still, 
 and his wound was not entirely healed yet ; but he set 
 himself resolutely to his writing-table, and did not rise 
 until he had written two letters. The first was carefully 
 written in a large round hand, such as is used by copyists 
 in Italy, resembling the Gothic. It was impossible to con-. 
 
248 SAEACINESCA. 
 
 nect the laboriously formed and conventional letters with 
 any particular person. It was very short, as follows : 
 
 " It may interest you to know that the Duchessa d'As- 
 trardente is going to her castle in the Sabines on the day 
 after to-morrow." 
 
 This laconic epistle Del Perice carefully directed to Don 
 Giovanni Saracinesca at his palace, and fastened a stamp 
 upon it ; but he concealed the address from Temistocle. 
 The second letter was longer, and written in his own small 
 and ornate handwriting. It was to Donna Tullia Mayer. 
 It ran thus : 
 
 " You would forgive my importuning you with a letter, 
 most charming Donna Tullia, if you could conceive of my 
 desolation and loneliness. For more than three weeks I 
 have been entirely deprived of the pleasure, the exquisite 
 delight, of conversing with her for whom I have suffered. 
 I still suffer so much. Ah ! if my paper were a cloth of 
 gold, and my pen in moving traced characters of diamond 
 and pearl, yet any words which speak of you would be 
 ineffectually honoured by such transcription! In the 
 miserable days and nights I have passed between life and 
 death, it is your image which has consoled me, the echo 
 of your delicate voice which has soothed my pain, the 
 remembrance of the last hours I spent with you which has 
 gilded the feverish dreams of my sickness. You are the 
 guardian angel of a most unhappy man, Donna Tullia. 
 Do you know it ? But for you I would have wooed death 
 as a comforter. As it is, I have struggled desperately to 
 keep my grasp upon life, in the hope of once more seeing 
 your smile and hearing your happy laugh; perhaps I 
 dare not expect it I may receive from you some slight 
 word of sympathy, some little half-sighed hint that you do 
 not altogether regret having been in these long weeks the 
 unconscious comforter of my sorrowing spirit and tor 
 mented body. You would hardly know me, could you 
 see me; but saving for your sweet spiritual presence, 
 which has rescued me from the jaws of death, you would 
 
SARACINESCA. 249 
 
 never have seen me again. Is it presumption in me to 
 write thus ? Have you ever given me a right to speak 
 in these words ? I do not know. I do not care. Man 
 has a right to be grateful. It is the first and most divine 
 right I possess, to feel and to express my gratitude. For 
 out of the store of your kindness shown me when I was 
 in the world, strong and happy in the privilege of your 
 society, I have drawn healing medicine in my sickness, 
 as tormented souls in purgatory get refreshment from the 
 prayers of good and kind people who remember them on 
 earth. So, therefore, if I have said too much, forgive me, 
 forgive the heartfelt gratitude which prompts me ; and 
 believe still in the respectful and undying devotion of 
 the humblest of your servants, UGO DEL FEBICE." 
 
 Del Ferice read over what he had written with con 
 siderable satisfaction, and having addressed his letter to 
 Donna Tullia, he lost no time in despatching Temistocle 
 with it, instructing him to ask if there would be an answer. 
 As soon as the man'was out of the house, Ugo rang for 
 his landlady, and sent for the porter's little boy, to whom 
 he delivered the letter to Don Giovanni, to be dropped 
 into the nearest post-box. Then he lay down, exhausted 
 with liis morning's work. In the course of two hours 
 Temistocle returned from Donna Tullia's house with a 
 little scented note too much scented, and the paper just 
 a shade too small. She took no notice of what he had 
 said in his carefully penned epistle ; but merely told him 
 she was sincerely glad that he was better, and asked him 
 to call as soon as he could. Ugo was not disappointed ; 
 he had expected no compromising expression of interest 
 in response to his own effusions; and he was well pleased 
 with the invitation, for it showed that what he had writ 
 ten had produced the desired result. 
 
 Don Giovanni Saracinesca received the anonymous note 
 late in the evening. He had, of course, together with his 
 father, deposited cards of condolence at the Palazzo As- 
 trardente, and he had been alone to inquire if the Duchessa 
 
250 SAKACINESCA. 
 
 would receive him. The porter had answered that, for 
 the present, there were standing orders to admit no one ; 
 and as Giovanni could boast of no especial intimacy, and 
 had no valid excuse to give, he was obliged to be satis 
 fied. He had patiently waited in the Villa Borghese and 
 by the band-stand on the Pincio, taking it for granted 
 that sooner or later Corona's carriage would appear ; but 
 when at last he had seen her brougham, she had driven 
 rapidly past him, thickly veiled, and he did not think she 
 had even noticed him. He would have written to her, 
 but he was still unable to hold a pen ; and he reflected 
 that, after all, it would have been a hideous farce for 
 him to offer condolences and sympathy, however much 
 he might desire to hide from himself his secret satisfac 
 tion at her husband's death. Too proud to think of ob 
 taining information through such base channels as Del 
 Ferice was willing to use, he was wholly ignorant of 
 Corona's intentions ; and it was a brilliant proof of Ugo's 
 astuteness that he had rightly judged Giovanni's position 
 with regard to her, and justly estimated the value of the 
 news conveyed by his anonymous note. 
 
 Saracinesca read the scrap of writing, and tossed it 
 angrily into the fire. He hated underhand dealings, and 
 scorned himself for the interest the note excited in him, 
 wondering who could find advantage in informing him of 
 the Duchessa's movements. But the note took effect, 
 nevertheless, although he was ashamed of it, and all 
 night he pondered upon what it told him. The next day, 
 at three o'clock, he went out alone, and walked rapidly 
 towards the Palazzo Astrardente. He was unable to 
 bear the suspense any longer ; the thought that Corona 
 was going away, apparently to shut herself up in the soli 
 tude of the ancient fortress, for any unknown number of 
 months, and that he might not see her until the autumn, 
 was intolerable. He knew that by the mere use of his 
 name he could at least make sure that she should know 
 he was at her door, and he determined to make the at 
 tempt. He waited a long time, pacing slowly the broad 
 
SAKACINESCA. 251 
 
 flagstones beneath the arch of the palace, while the por 
 ter himself went up with his card and message. The 
 fellow had hesitated, but Don Giovanni Saracinesca was 
 not a man to be refused by a servant. At last the porter 
 returned, and, bowing to the ground, said that the Signora 
 Duchessa would receive him. 
 
 In five minutes he was waiting alone in the great draw 
 ing-room. It had cost Corona a struggle to allow him to 
 be admitted. She hesitated long, for it seemed like a 
 positive wrong to her husband's memory, but the woman 
 in her yielded at last ; she was going away on the follow 
 ing morning, and she could not refuse to see him for once. 
 She hesitated again as she laid her hand upon the latch 
 of the door, knowing that he was in the room beyond ; 
 then at last she entered. 
 
 Her face was very pale and very grave. Her simple 
 gown of close-fitting black set off her height and figure, 
 and flowed softly in harmony with her stately movements 
 as she advanced towards Giovanni, who stood almost awe 
 struck in the middle of the room. He could not realise 
 that this dark sad princess was the same woman to whom 
 less than a month ago he had spoken such passionate 
 words, whom he had madly tried to take into his arms. 
 Proud as he was, it seemed presumptuous in him to think 
 of love in connection with so royal a woman ; and yet he 
 knew that he loved her better and more truly than he 
 had done a month before. She held out her hand to him, 
 and he raised it to his lips. Then they both sat down in 
 silence. 
 
 " I had despaired of ever seeing you again/' said Gio 
 vanni at last, speaking in a subdued voice. " I had wished 
 for some opportunity of telling you how sincerely I sym 
 pathise with you in your great loss/' It was a very formal 
 speech, such as men make in such situations. It might 
 have been better, but he was not eloquent ; even his rough 
 old father had a better command of language on ordinary 
 occasions, though Giovanni could speak well enough when 
 he was roused. But he felt constrained in the presence 
 
252 SARACINESCA. 
 
 of the woman he adored. Corona herself hardly knew 
 how to answer. 
 
 " You are very kind/' she said, simply. 
 
 " I wish it were possible to be of any service to you," 
 he answered. " I need not tell you that both my father 
 and myself would hold it an honour to assist you in any 
 way." He mentioned his father from a feeling of deli 
 cacy ; he did not wish to put himself forward. 
 
 "You are very kind," repeated Corona, gravely. "I 
 have not had any annoyance. I have an excellent man 
 of business." 
 
 There was a moment's pause. Then she seemed to 
 understand that he was embarrassed, and spoke again. 
 
 " I am glad to see that you are recovered," she said. 
 
 " It was nothing," answered Giovanni, with a glance 
 at his right arm, which was still confined in a bandage 
 of black silk, but was no longer in a sling. 
 
 " It was very wrong of you," returned Corona, looking 
 seriously into his eyes. " I do not know why you fought, 
 but it was wrong ; it is a great sin." 
 
 Giovanni smiled a little. 
 
 " We all have to sin sometimes," he said. " Would you 
 have me stand quietly and see an abominable piece of 
 baseness, and not lift a hand to punish the offender ? " 
 
 " People who do base things always come to a bad end," 
 answered the Duchessa. 
 
 "Perhaps. But we poor sinners are impatient to see 
 justice done at once. I am sorry to have done anything 
 you consider wrong," he added, with a shade of bitter 
 ness. " Will you permit me to change the subject ? Are 
 you thinking of remaining in Rome, or do you mean to 
 go away ? " 
 
 " I am going up to Astrardente to-morrow," answered 
 Corona, readily. " I want to be alone and in the country." 
 
 Giovanni showed no surprise : his anonymous informa 
 tion had been accurate ; Del Ferice had not parted with 
 the grey trousers in vain. 
 
 " I suppose you are right," he said. " But at this time 
 
SAEACINESCA. 253 
 
 of year I should think the mountains would be very 
 cold." 
 
 " The castle is comfortable. It has been recently fitted 
 up, and there are many warm rooms in it. I am fond of 
 the old place, and I need to be alone for a long time." 
 
 Giovanni thought the conversation was becoming op 
 pressive. He thought of what had passed between them 
 at their last meeting in the conservatory of the Palazzo 
 Frangipani. 
 
 " I shall myself pass the summer in Saracinesca," he 
 said, suddenly. " You know it is not very far. May I 
 hope that I may sometimes be permitted to see you ? " 
 
 Corona had certainly had no thought of seeing Gio 
 vanni when she had determined to go to Astrardente ; 
 she had not been there often, and had not realised that 
 it was within reach of the Saracinesca estate. She 
 started slightly. 
 
 " Is it so near ? " she asked. 
 
 " Half a day's ride over the hills/' replied Giovanni. 
 
 " I did not know. Of course, if you come, you will not 
 be denied hospitality." 
 
 " But you would rather not see me ? " asked Saracin 
 esca, in a tone of disappointment. He had hoped for 
 something more encouraging. Corona answered courage 
 ously. 
 
 " I would rather not see you. Do not think me un 
 kind," she added, her voice softening a little. "Why 
 need there be any explanations ? Do not try to see me. 
 I wish you well ; I wish you more all happiness but 
 do not try to see me." 
 
 Giovanni's face grew grave and pale. He was dis 
 appointed, even humiliated ; but something told him that 
 it was not coldness which prompted her request. 
 
 " Your commands are my laws," he answered. 
 
 " I would rather that instead of regarding what I ask 
 you as a command, you should feel that it ought to be 
 the natural prompting of your own heart," replied Corona, 
 somewhat coldly. 
 
254 SARACINESCA. 
 
 f< Forgive me if my heart dictates what my obedience 
 to you must effectually forbid," said Giovanni. "I 
 beseech you to be satisfied that what you ask I will per 
 form blindly." 
 
 " Not blindly you know all my reasons." 
 
 " There is that between you and me which annihilates 
 reason," answered Giovanni, his voice trembling a little. 
 
 " There is that in my position which should command 
 your respect," said Corona. She feared he was going too 
 far, and yet this time she knew she had not said too 
 much, and that in bidding him avoid her, she was only 
 doing what was strictly necessary for her peace. " I am 
 a widow," she continued, very gravely ; "I am a woman, 
 and I am alone. My only protection lies in the courtesy 
 I have a right to expect from men like you. You have 
 expressed your sympathy; show it then by cheerfully 
 fulfilling my request. I do not speak in riddles, but very 
 plainly. You recall to me a moment of great pain, and 
 your presence, the mere fact of my receiving you, seems a 
 disloyalty to the memory of my husband. I have given 
 you no reason to believe that I ever took a greater 
 interest in you than such as I might take in a friend. I 
 hourly pray that this this too great interest you show 
 in me, may pass quickly, and leave you what you were 
 before. You see I do not speak darkly, and I do not 
 mean to speak unkindly. Do not answer me, I beseech 
 you, but take this as my last word. Forget me if you 
 can " 
 
 " I cannot," said Giovanni, deeply moved. 
 
 " Try. If you cannot, God help you ! but I am sure 
 that if you try faithfully, you will succeed. And now 
 you must go," she said, in gentler tones. " You should 
 not have come I should not have let you see me. But 
 it is best so. I am grateful for the sympathy you have 
 expressed. I do not doubt that you will do as I have 
 asked you, and as you have promised. Good-bye." 
 
 Corona rose to her feet, her hands folded before her. 
 Giovanni had no choice. She let her eyes rest upon him, 
 
SABACINESCA. 255 
 
 not unkindly, but she did not extend her hand. He 
 stood one moment in hesitation, then bowed and left the 
 room without a word. Corona stood still, and her eyes 
 followed his retreating figure until at the door he turned 
 once more and bent his head and then was gone. Then 
 she fell back into her chair and gazed listlessly at the 
 wall opposite. 
 
 " It is done," she said at last. " I hope it is well done 
 and wisely." Indeed it had been a hard thing to say ; 
 but it was better to say it at once than to regret an ill- 
 timed indulgence when it should be too late. And yet it 
 had cost her less to send him away definitely than it had 
 cost her to resist his passionate appeal a month ago. She 
 seemed to have gained strength from her sorrows. So he 
 was gone ! She gave a sigh of relief, which was instantly 
 followed by a sharp throb of pain, so sudden that she 
 hardly understood it. 
 
 Her preparations were all made. She had at the last 
 moment realised that it was not fitting for her, at her age, 
 to travel alone, nor to live wholly alone in her widowhood. 
 She had revolved the matter in her mind, and had decided 
 that there was no woman of her acquaintance whom she 
 could ask even for a short time to stay with her. She 
 had no friends, no relations, none to turn to in such a 
 need. It was not that she cared for company in her soli 
 tude ; it was merely a question of propriety. To over 
 come the difficulty, she obtained permission to take with 
 her one of the sisters of a charitable order of nuns, a lady 
 in middle life, but broken down and in ill health from 
 her untiring labours. The thing was easily managed; 
 and the next morning, on leaving the palace, she stopped 
 at the gate of the community and found Sister Gabrielle 
 waiting with her modest box. The nun entered the 
 huge travelling carriage, and the two ladies set out for 
 Astrardente. 
 
 It was the first day of Carnival, and a memorably sad 
 one for G-iovanni Saracinesca. He would have been cap 
 able of leaving Rome at once, but that he had promised 
 
 
256 SARACINESCA. 
 
 Corona not to attempt to see her. He would have gone 
 to Saracinesca for the mere sake of being nearer to her, 
 had he not reflected that he would be encouraging all man 
 ner of gossip by so doing. But he determined that so 
 soon as Lent began, he would declare his intention of 
 leaving the city for a year. No one ever went to Sara 
 cinesca, and by making a circuit he could reach the an 
 cestral castle without creating suspicion. He might even 
 go to Paris for a few days, and have it supposed that he 
 was wandering about Europe, for he could trust his own 
 servants implicitly ; they were not of the type who would 
 drink wine at a tavern with Temistocle or any of his 
 class. 
 
 The old Prince came into his son's room in the morning 
 and found him. disconsolately looking over his guns, for 
 the sake of an occupation. 
 
 " Well, Giovanni," he said, " you have time to reflect 
 upon your future conduct. What ! are you going upon 
 a shooting expedition ? " 
 
 " I wish I could. I wish I could find anything to do," 
 answered Giovanni, laying down the breech-loader and 
 looking out of the window. " The world is turned inside 
 out like a beggar's pocket, and there is nothing in it." 
 
 " So the Astrardente is gone," remarked the Prince. 
 
 " Yes ; gone to live within twenty miles of Saracinesca," 
 replied Giovanni, with an angry intonation. 
 
 "Bo not go there yet," said his father. "Leave her 
 alone a while. Women become frantic in solitude." 
 
 " Do you think I am an idiot ? " exclaimed Giovanni. 
 " Of course I shall stay where I am till Carnival is over." 
 He was not in a good humour. 
 
 " Why are you so petulant ? " retorted the old man. 
 " I merely gave you my advice." 
 
 "Well, I am going to follow it. It is good. When 
 Carnival is over I will go away, and perhaps get to Sara 
 cinesca by a roundabout way, so that no one will know 
 where I am. Will you not come too ? " 
 
 "I daresay," answered the Prince, who was always 
 
SAKACINESCA. 257 
 
 pleased when his son expressed a desire for his company. 
 " I wish we lived in the good old times." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " We would make small scruple of besieging Astrardente 
 and carrying off the Duchessa for you, my boy," said the 
 Prince, grimly. 
 
 Giovanni laughed. Perhaps the same idea had crossed 
 his mind. He was not quite sure whether it was respect 
 ful to Corona to think of carrying her off in the way his 
 father suggested ; but there was a curious flavour of possi 
 bility in the suggestion, coming as it did from a man whose 
 grandfather might have done such a thing, and whose 
 great-grandfather was said to have done it. So strong 
 are the instincts of barbaric domination in races where 
 the traditions of violence exist in an unbroken chain, that 
 both father and son smiled at the idea as if it were quite 
 natural, although Giovanni had only the previous day 
 promised that he would not even attempt to see Corona 
 d' Astrardente without her permission. He did not tell 
 his father of his promise, however, for his more delicate 
 instinct made him sure that though he had acted rightly, 
 his father would laugh at his scruples, and tell him that 
 women liked to be wooed roughly. 
 
 Meanwhile Giovanni felt that Rome had become for 
 him a vast solitude, and the smile soon faded from his 
 face at the thought that he must go out into the world, 
 and for Corona's sake act as though nothing had hap 
 pened. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 Poor Madame Mayer was in great anxiety of mind. 
 She had not a great amount of pride, but she made up for 
 it by a plentiful endowment of vanity, in which she suf 
 fered acutely. She was a good-natured woman enough, 
 and by nature she was not vindictive ; but she could not 
 
258 SARACINESCA. 
 
 help being jealous, for she was in love. She felt how 
 Giovanni every day evidently cared less and less for her 
 society, and how, on the other hand, Del Ferice was quietly 
 assuring his position, so that people already began to whis 
 per that he had a chance of becoming her husband. She 
 did not dislike Del Ferice ; he was a convenient man of 
 the world, whom she always found ready to help her when 
 she needed help. But by dint of making use of him, she 
 was beginning to feel in some way bound to consider him 
 as an element in her life, and she did not like the position. 
 The letter he had written her was of the kind a man might 
 write to the woman he loved ; it bordered upon the fa 
 miliar, even while the writer expressed himself in terms 
 of exaggerated respect. Perhaps if Del Ferice had been 
 well, she would have simply taken no notice of what he 
 had written, and would not even have sent an answer ; 
 but she had not the heart to repulse him altogether in his 
 present condition. There was a phrase cunningly intro 
 duced and ambiguously worded, which seemed to mean 
 that he had come by his wound in her cause. He spoke 
 of having suffered and of still suffering so much for her, 
 did he mean to refer to pain of body or of mind ? It was 
 not certain. Don Giovanni had assured her that she was 
 in no way concerned in the duel, and he was well known 
 for his honesty ; nevertheless, out of delicacy, he might 
 have desired to conceal the truth from her. It seemed 
 like him. She longed for an opportunity of talking with 
 him and eliciting some explanation of his conduct. There 
 had been a time when he used to visit her, and always 
 spent some time in her society when they met in the 
 world now, on the contrary, he seemed to avoid her 
 whenever he could ; and in proportion as she noticed that 
 his manner cooled, her own jealousy against Corona d'As- 
 trardente increased in force, until at last it seemed to 
 absorb her love for Giovanni into itself and turn it into 
 hate. 
 
 Love is a passion which, like certain powerful drugs, 
 acts differently upon each different constitution of temper j 
 
SAKACINBSCA. 259 
 
 love also acts more strongly when it is nnreturned or 
 thwarted than when it is mutual and uneventful. If two 
 persons love each other truly, and there is no obstacle to 
 their union, it is probable that, without any violent emo 
 tion, their love will grow and become stronger by imper 
 ceptible degrees, without changing in its natural quality j 
 but if thwarted by untoward circumstances, the passion, 
 if true, attains suddenly to the dimensions which it would 
 otherwise need years to reach. It sometimes happens that 
 the nature in which this unforeseen and abnormal develop 
 ment takes place is unable to bear the precocious growth ; 
 then, losing sight of its identity in the strange inward 
 confusion of heart and mind which ensues, it is driven to 
 madness, and, breaking every barrier, either attains its 
 object at a single bound, or is shivered and ruined in 
 dashing itself against the impenetrable wall of complete 
 impossibility. But again, in the last case, when love is 
 wholly unreturned, it dies a natural death of atrophy, 
 when it has existed in a person of common and average 
 nature ; or if the man or woman so afflicted be proud and 
 of noble instincts, the passion becomes a kind of religion 
 to the heart sacred, and worthy to be guarded from the 
 eyes of the world ; or, finally, again, where it finds vanity 
 the dominant characteristic of the being in whom it has 
 grown, it draws a poisonous life from the unhealthy soil 
 on which it is fed, and the tender seed of love shoots and 
 puts forth evil leaves and blossoms, and grows to be a 
 most venomous tree, which is the tree of hatred. 
 
 Donna Tullia was certainly a woman who belonged to 
 the latter class of individuals. She had qualities which 
 were perhaps good because not bad ; but the mainspring 
 of her being was an inordinate vanity ; and it was in this 
 characteristic that she was most deeply wounded, as she 
 found herself gradually abandoned by Giovanni Saracin- 
 esca. She had been in the habit of thinking of him as a 
 probable husband ; the popular talk had fostered the idea, 
 and occasional hints, and smiling questions concerning 
 him, had made her feel that he could not long hang back. 
 
260 SARACINESCA. 
 
 She had been in the habit of treating him familiarly ; and 
 he, tutored by his father to the belief that she was the 
 best match for him, and reluctantly yielding to the force 
 of circumstances, which seemed driving him into matri 
 mony, had suffered himself to be ordered about and made 
 use of with an indifference which, in Madame Mayer's 
 eyes, had passed for consent. She had watched with 
 growing fear and jealousy his devotion to the Astrar- 
 dente, which all the world had noticed ; and at last her 
 anger had broken out at the affront she had received at 
 the Frangipani ball. But even then she loved Giovanni 
 in her own vain way. It was not till Corona was sud 
 denly left a widow, that Donna Tullia began to realise the 
 hopelessness of her position ; and when she found how 
 determinately Saracinesca avoided her wherever they 
 met, the affection she had hitherto felt for him turned 
 into a bitter hatred, stronger even than her jealousy 
 against the Duchessa. There was no scene of explana 
 tion between them, no words passed, no dramatic situation, 
 such as Donna Tullia loved ; the change came in a few 
 days, and was complete. She had not even the satisfac 
 tion of receiving some share of the attention Giovanni 
 would have bestowed upon Corona if she had been in 
 town. Not only had he grown utterly indifferent to her ; 
 he openly avoided her, and thereby inflicted upon her 
 vanity the cruellest wound she was capable of feeling. 
 
 With Donna Tullia to hate was to injure, to long for 
 revenge not of the kind which is enjoyed in secret, and 
 known only to the person who suffers and the person who 
 causes the suffering. She did not care for that so much 
 as she desired some brilliant triumph over her enemies 
 before the world ; some startling instance of poetic jus 
 tice, which should at one blow do a mortal injury to 
 Corona d'Astrardente, and bring Giovanni Saracinesca to 
 her own feet by force, repentant and crushed, to be dealt 
 with as she saw fit, according to his misdeeds. But she 
 had chosen her adversaries ill, and her heart misgave her. 
 had no hold upon them, for they were very strong 
 
SARACmESCA. 261 
 
 people, very powerful, and very much respected by their 
 fellows. It was not easy to bring them into trouble ; it 
 seemed impossible to humiliate them as she wished to do, 
 and yet her hate was very strong. She waited and pon 
 dered, and in the meanwhile, when she met Giovanni, 
 she began to treat him with haughty coldness. But Gio 
 vanni smiled, and seemed well satisfied that she should 
 at last give over what was to him very like a persecution. 
 Her anger grew hotter from its very impotence. The 
 world saw it, and laughed. 
 
 The days of Carnival came and passed, much as they 
 usually pass, in a whirl of gaiety. Giovanni went every 
 where, and showed his grave face ; but he talked little, 
 and of course every one said he was melancholy at the 
 departure of the Duchessa. Nevertheless he kept up an 
 appearance of interest in what was done, and as nobody 
 cared to risk asking him questions, people left him in 
 peace. The hurrying crowd of social life filled up the 
 place occupied by old Astrardente and the beautiful 
 Duchessa, and they were soon forgotten, for they had 
 not had many intimate friends. 
 
 On the last night of Carnival, Del Ferice appeared 
 once more. He had not been able to resist the temptation 
 of getting one glimpse of the world he loved, before the 
 wet blanket of Lent extinguished the lights of the ball 
 rooms and the jollity of the dancers. Every one was sur 
 prised to see him, and most people were pleased ; he was 
 such a useful man, that he had often been missed during 
 the time of his illness. He was improved in appearance ; 
 for though he was very pale, he had grown also extremely 
 thin, and his features had gained delicacy. 
 
 When Giovanni saw him, he went up to him, and the 
 two men exchanged a formal salutation, while every one 
 stood still for a moment to see the meeting. It was over 
 in a moment, and society gave a little sigh of relief, as 
 though a weight were removed from its mind. Then Del 
 Ferice went to Donna Tullia's side. They were soon alone 
 upon a small sofa in a small room, whither a couple strayed 
 
 Vol. 1012 
 
262 SARACINESCA. 
 
 now and then to remain a few minutes before returning to 
 the ball. A few people passed through, but for more than 
 an hour they were not disturbed. 
 
 "I am very glad to see you," said Donna Tullia; "but 
 I had hoped that the first time you went out you would 
 have come to my house." 
 
 "This is the first time I have been out you see I 
 should not have found you at home, since I have found 
 you here." 
 
 "Are you entirely recovered ? You still look ill." 
 
 " I am a little weak but an hour with you will do me 
 more good than all the doctors in the world." 
 
 " Thanks," said Donna Tullia, with a little laugh. " It 
 was strange to see you shaking hands with Giovanni Sara- 
 cinesca just now. I suppose men have to do that sort of 
 thing." 
 
 " You may be sure I would not have done it unless it 
 had been necessary," returned Del Ferice, bitterly. 
 
 " I should think not. What an arrogant man he is ! " 
 
 "You no longer like him?" asked Del Ferice, inno 
 cently. 
 
 " Like him ! No ; I never liked him," replied Donna 
 Tullia, quickly. 
 
 " Oh, I thought you did ; I used to wonder at it." Ugo 
 grew thoughtful. 
 
 " I was always good to him," said Donna Tullia. " But 
 of course I can never forgive him for what he did at the 
 Frangipani ball." 
 
 " No ; nor I," answered Del Ferice, readily. " I shall 
 always hate him for that too." 
 
 " I do not say that I exactly hate him." 
 
 "You have every reason. It appears to me that since 
 my illness we have another idea in common, another bond 
 of sympathy." Del Ferice spoke almost tenderly ; but 
 he laughed immediately afterwards, as though not wish 
 ing his words to be interpreted too seriously. Donna 
 Tullia smiled too ; she was inclined to be very kind to 
 him. 
 
SA3ACINESCA. 263 
 
 " You are very quick to jump at conclusions," she said, 
 playing with her red fan and looking down. 
 
 " It is always easy to reach that pleasant conclusion 
 that you and I are in sympathy," he answered, with a 
 tender glance, "even in regard to hating the same person. 
 The bond would be close indeed, if it depended on the 
 opposite of hate. And yet I sometimes think it does. 
 Are you not the best friend I have in the world ? " 
 
 "I do not know, I am a good friend to you," she 
 answered. 
 
 " Indeed you are ; but do you not think it would be 
 possible to cement our friendship even more closely 
 yet?" 
 
 Donna Tullia looked up sharply; she had no idea of 
 allowing him to propose to marry her. His face, however, 
 was grave unlike his usual expression when he meant to 
 be tender, and which she knew very well. 
 
 "I do not know," she said, with a light laugh. "How 
 do you mean ? " 
 
 " If I could do you some great service if I could by 
 any means satisfy what is now your chief desire in life 
 would not that help to cement our friendship, as I said ? " 
 
 "Perhaps," she answered, thoughtfully. "But then 
 you do not know you cannot guess even what I most 
 wish at this moment." 
 
 " I think I could," said Del Ferice, fixing his eyes upon 
 her. " I am sure I could, but I will not. I should risk 
 offending you." 
 
 "No; I will not be angry. You may guess if you 
 please." Donna Tullia in her turn looked fixedly at her 
 companion. They seemed trying to read each other's 
 thoughts. 
 
 "Very well," said Ugo at last, "I will tell you. You 
 would like to see the Astrardente dead and Giovanni 
 Saracinesca profoundly humiliated." 
 
 Donna Tullia started. But indeed there was nothing 
 strange in her companion's knowledge of her feelings. 
 Many people, being asked what she felt, would very likely 
 
264 SARACINESCA. 
 
 have said the same, for the world had seen her discomfit 
 ure and had laughed at it. 
 
 " You are a very singular man," she said, uneasily. 
 
 "In other words," replied Del Ferice, calmly, "I am 
 perfectly right in my surmises. I see it in your face. 
 Of course," he added, with a laugh, " it is mere jest. But 
 the thing is quite possible. If I fulfilled your desire of 
 just and poetic vengeance, what would you give me ? " 
 
 Donna Tullia laughed in her turn, to conceal the ex 
 treme interest she felt in what he said. 
 
 " Whatever you like," she said. But even while the 
 laugh was on her lips her eyes sought his uneasily. 
 
 " Would you marry me, for instance, as the enchanted 
 princess in the fairy story marries the prince who frees 
 her from the spell ? " He seemed immensely amused at 
 the idea. 
 
 "Why not?" she laughed. 
 
 " It would be the only just recompense," he answered. 
 " See how impossible the thing appears. And yet a few 
 pounds of dynamite would blow up the Great Pyramid. 
 Giovanni Saracinesca is not so strong as he looks." 
 
 " Oh, I would not have him hurt ! " exclaimed Donna 
 Tullia in alarm. 
 
 " I do not mean physically, nor morally, but socially." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 " That is my secret," returned Del Ferice, quietly. 
 
 "It sounds as though you were pretending to know 
 more than you really do," she answered. 
 
 "No; it is the plain truth," said Del Ferice, quietly. 
 " If you were in earnest I might be willing to tell you 
 what the secret is, but for a mere jest I cannot. It is far 
 too serious a matter." 
 
 His tone convinced Donna Tullia that he really pos 
 sessed some weapon which he could use against Don Gio 
 vanni if he pleased. She wondered only why, if it were 
 true, he did not use it, seeing that he must hate Saracinesca 
 with all his heart. Del Ferice knew so much about 
 people, so many strange and forgotten stories, he had so 
 
SARACINESCA. 265 
 
 accurate a memory and so acute an intelligence, that it 
 was by no means impossible that he was in possession of 
 some secret connected with the Saracinesca. They were, 
 or were thought to be, wild, unruly men, both father and 
 son; there were endless stories about them both; and 
 there was nothing more likely than that, in his numerous 
 absences from home, Giovanni had at one time or another 
 figured in some romantic affair, which he would be sorry 
 to have had generally known. Del Ferice was wise enough 
 to keep his own counsel ; but now that his hatred was 
 thoroughly roused, he might very likely make use of the 
 knowledge he possessed. Donna Tullia's curiosity was 
 excited to its highest pitch, and at the same time she had 
 pleasant visions of the possible humiliation of the man by 
 whom she felt herself so ill-used. It would be worth 
 while making the sacrifice in order to learn Del Ferice's 
 secret. 
 
 " This need not be a mere jest," she said, after a mo 
 ment's silence. 
 
 " That is as you please," returned Del Ferice, seriously. 
 " If you are willing to do your part, you may be sure 
 that I will do mine." 
 
 "You cannot think I really meant what I said just 
 now," replied Donna Tullia. "It would be madness." 
 
 " Why ? Am I halt, am I lame, am I blind ? Am I 
 repulsively ugly ? Am I a pauper, that I should care for 
 your money ? Have I not loved you yes, loved you 
 long and faithfully ? Am I too old ? Is there anything 
 in the nature of things why I should not aspire to be 
 your husband ? " 
 
 It was strange. He spoke calmly, as though enumerat 
 ing the advantages of a friend. Donna Tullia looked at 
 him for a moment, and then laughed outright. 
 
 " No," she said ; " all that is very true. You may as 
 pire, as you call it. The question is, whether I shall 
 aspire too. Of course, if we happened to agree in aspir 
 ing, we could be married to-morrow." 
 
 " Precisely," answered Del Ferice, perfectly unmoved. 
 
266 SABACINESCA. 
 
 " I am not proposing to marry you. I am arguing the 
 case. There is this in the case which is perhaps outside 
 the argument this, that I am devotedly attached to you. 
 The case is the stronger for that. I was only trying to 
 demonstrate that the idea of our being married is not so 
 unutterably absurd. You laughingly said you would 
 marry me if I could accomplish something which would 
 please you very much. I laughed also ; but now I seri 
 ously repeat my proposition, because I am convinced that 
 although at first sight it may appear extremely humour 
 ous, on a closer inspection it will be found exceedingly 
 practical. In union is strength." 
 
 Donna Tullia was silent for a moment, and her face grew 
 grave. There was reason in what he said. She did not 
 care for him she had never thought of marrying him ; 
 but she recognised the justice of what he said. It was 
 clear that a man of his social position, received every 
 where and intimate with all her associates, might think 
 of marrying her. He looked positively handsome since 
 he was wounded ; he was accomplished and intelligent ; 
 he had sufficient means of support to prevent him from 
 being suspected of marrying solely for money, and he 
 had calmly stated that he loved her. Perhaps he did. 
 It was nattering to Donna Tullia' s vanity to believe him, 
 and his acts had certainly not belied his words. He was 
 by far the most thoughtful of all her admirers, and he 
 affected to treat her always with a certain respect which 
 she had never succeeded in obtaining from Valdarno and 
 the rest. A woman who likes to be noisy, but is con 
 scious of being a little vulgar, is always nattered when a 
 man behaves towards her with profound reverence. It 
 will even sometimes cure her of her vulgarity. Donna 
 Tullia reflected seriously upon what Del Ferice had said. 
 
 " I never had such a proposition made to me in my life," 
 she said. " Of course you cannot think I regard it as a 
 possible one, even now. You cannot think I am so base 
 as to sell myself for the sake of revenging an insult once 
 offered me. If I am to regard this as a proposal of mar- 
 
SARACINESOA. 267 
 
 riage, I must decline it with, thanks. If it is merely a 
 proposition for an alliance, I think the terms of the treaty 
 are unequal." 
 
 Del Fence smiled. 
 
 " I knew you well enough to know what your answer 
 would be," he said. "I never insulted you by dream 
 ing that you would accept such a proposition. But as 
 a subject for speculation it is very pleasant. It is de 
 lightful to me to think of being your husband ; it is 
 equally delightful to you to think of the humiliation 
 of an enemy. I took the liberty of uniting the two 
 thoughts in one dream a dream of unspeakable bliss for 
 myself." 
 
 Donna Tullia's gay humour returned. 
 
 " You have certainly amused me very well for a quarter 
 of an hour with your dreams," she answered. " I wish 
 you would tell me what you know of Don Giovanni. It 
 must be very interesting if it can really seriously influ 
 ence his life." 
 
 " I cannot tell you. The secret is too valuable." 
 
 " But if the thing you know has such, power, why do 
 you not use it yourself ? You must hate him far more 
 than I do." 
 
 " I doubt that," answered Del Ferice, with a cunning 
 smile. " I do not use it, I do not choose to strike the 
 blow, because I do not care enough for retribution merely 
 on my own account. I do not pretend to generosity, but 
 I am not interested enough in him to harm him, though 
 I dislike him exceedingly. We had a temporary settle 
 ment of our difficulties the other day, and we were both 
 wounded. Poor Casalverde lost his head and did a fool 
 ish thing, and that cold-blooded villain Spicca killed him 
 in consequence. It seems to me that there has been enough 
 blood spilled in our quarrel. I am prepared to leave him 
 alone so far as I am concerned. But for you it would be 
 different. I could do something worse than kill him if 
 I chose." 
 
 " For me ? " said Donna Tullia. " What would you do 
 
268 SARACINESCA. 
 
 for me ? " She smiled sweetly, willing to use all her per 
 suasion to extract his secret. 
 
 "I could prevent Don Giovanni from marrying the 
 Astrardente, as he intends to do," he answered, looking 
 straight at his companion. 
 
 " How in the world could you do that ? " she asked, in 
 great surprise. 
 
 " That, my dear friend, is my secret, as I said before. 
 I cannot reveal it to you at present." 
 
 "You are as dark as the Holy Office," said Donna 
 Tullia, a little impatiently. " What possible harm could 
 it do if you told me ? " 
 
 " What possible good either ? " asked Del Ferice, in 
 reply. " You could not use it as I could. You would 
 gain no advantage by knowing it. Of course," he added, 
 with a laugh, " if we entered into the alliance we were 
 jesting about, it would be different." 
 
 " You will not tell me unless I promise to marry you ? " 
 
 "Frankly, no," he answered, still laughing. 
 
 It exasperated Donna Tullia beyond measure to feel that 
 he was in possession of what she so coveted, and to feel 
 that he was bargaining, half in earnest, for her life in 
 exchange for his secret. She was almost tempted for one 
 moment to assent, to cay she would marry him, so great 
 was her curiosity ; i would be easy to break her promise, 
 and laugh at him afterwards. But she was not a bad 
 woman, as women of her class are considered. She had 
 suffered a great disappointment, and her resentment was 
 in proportion to her vanity. But she was not prepared to 
 give a false promise for the sake of vengeance ; she was 
 only bad enough to imagine such bad faith possible. 
 
 "But you said you never seriously thought I could 
 accept such an engagement," she objected, not knowing 
 what to say. 
 
 "I did," replied Del Ferice. "I might have added 
 that I never seriously contemplated parting with my 
 secret." 
 
 "There is nothing to be got from you," said Donna 
 
SABACINESCA. 269 
 
 Tullia, in a tone of disappointment. " I think that when 
 you have nearly driven me mad with curiosity, you might 
 really tell me something." 
 
 " Ah no, dear lady," answered her companion. " You 
 may ask anything of me but that anything. You may 
 ask that too, if you will sign the treaty I propose." 
 
 "You will drive me into marrying you out of sheer 
 curiosity," said Donna Tullia, with an impatient laugh. 
 
 "I wish that were possible. I wish I could see my 
 way to telling you as it is, for the thing is so curious that 
 it would have the most intense interest for you. But it 
 is quite out of the question." 
 
 " You should never have told me anything about it," 
 replied Madame Mayer. 
 
 "Well, I will think about it," said Del Ferice at last, as 
 though suddenly resolving to make a sacrifice. " I will 
 look over some papers I have, and I will think about it. 
 I promise you that if I feel that I can conscientiously 
 tell you something of the matter, you may be sure that 
 I will." 
 
 Donna Tullia's manner changed again, from impatience 
 to persuasion. The sudden hope he held out to her was 
 delicious to contemplate. She could not realise that Del 
 Ferice, having once thoroughly interested her, could play 
 upon her moods as on the keys of an instrument. If she 
 had been less anxious that the story he told should be 
 true, she might have suspected that he was practising 
 upon her credulity. But she seized the idea of obtaining 
 some secret influence over the life of Giovanni, and it 
 completely carried her away. 
 
 " You must tell me I am sure you will," she said, let 
 ting her kindest glance rest upon her companion. " Come 
 and dine with me, do you fast ? No nor I. Come on 
 Friday will you ? " 
 
 "I shall be delighted," answered Del Ferice, with a 
 quiet smile of triumph. 
 
 " I will have the old lady, of course, so you cannot tell 
 me at dinner ; but she will go to sleep soon afterwards 
 
270 SARACINESCA. 
 
 she always does. Come at seven. Besides, she is deaf, 
 you know." 
 
 The old lady in question was the aged Countess whom 
 Donna Tullia affected as a companion in her solitary 
 magnificence. 
 
 " And now, will you take me back to the ball-room ? 
 I have an idea that a partner is looking for me." 
 
 Del Ferice left her dancing, and went home in his little 
 coup6. He was desperately fatigued, for he was still very 
 weak, and he feared lest his imprudence in going out so 
 soon might bring on a relapse from his convalescence. 
 Nevertheless, before he went to bed he dismissed Temis- 
 tocle, and opened a shabby-looking black box which stood 
 upon his writing-table. It was bound with iron, and was 
 fastened by a patent lock which had frequently defied 
 Temistocle's ingenuity. From this repository he took a 
 great number of papers, which were all neatly filed away 
 and marked in the owner's small and ornamented hand 
 writing. Beneath many packages of letters he found 
 what he sought for, a long envelope containing several 
 folded documents. 
 
 He spread out the papers and read them carefully over. 
 
 " It is a very singular thing," he said to himself ; " but 
 there can be no doubt about it. There it is." 
 
 He folded the papers again, returned them to their 
 envelope, and replaced the latter deep among the letters 
 in his box. He then locked it, attached the key to a 
 chain he wore about his neck, and went to bed, worn out 
 with fatigue. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 Del Fence had purposely excited Donna Tullia's curi 
 osity, and he meant before long to tell more than he had 
 vouchsafed in his first confidence. But he himself trem 
 bled before the magnitude of what he had suddenly 
 
SARACINESCA. 271 
 
 thought of doing, for the fear of Giovanni was in his 
 heart. The temptation to boast to Donna Tullia that he 
 had the means of preventing Giovanni from marrying 
 was too strong; but when it had come to telling her 
 what those means were, prudence had restrained him. 
 He desired that if the scheme were put into execution it 
 might be by some one else ; for, extraordinary as it was, 
 he was not absolutely certain of its success. He was not 
 sure of Donna Tullia's discretion, either, until by a judi 
 cious withholding of the secret he had given her a suffi 
 cient idea of its importance. But on mature reflection he 
 came to the conclusion that, even if she possessed the 
 information he was able to give, she would not dare to 
 mention it, nor even to hint at it. *?'.' 
 
 The grey light of Ash- Wednesday morning broke over 
 Rome, and stole through the windows of Giovanni Sara- 
 cinesca's bedroom. Giovanni had not slept much, but his 
 restlessness was due rather to his gladness at having per 
 formed the last of his social duties than to any disturbance 
 of mind. All night he lay planning what he should do, 
 how he might reach his place in the mountains by a cir 
 cuitous route, leaving the general impression that he was 
 abroad and how, when at last he had got to Saracinesca 
 unobserved, he would revel in the solitude and in the 
 thought of being within half a day's journey of Corona 
 d'Astrardente. He was willing to take a great deal of 
 trouble, for he did not wish people to know his where 
 abouts ; he would not have it said that he had gone into 
 the country to be near Corona and to see her every day, as 
 would certainly be said if his real movements were dis 
 covered. Accordingly, he fulfilled his programme to the 
 letter. He left Kome on the afternoon of Ash-Wednesday 
 for Florence ; there he visited several acquaintances who, 
 he knew, would write to their friends in Rome of his ap 
 pearance ; from Florence he went to Paris, and gave out 
 that he was going upon a shooting expedition in the Arc 
 tic regions, as soon as the weather was warm enough. As 
 he was well known for a sportsman and a traveller, this 
 
272 SARACINESCA. 
 
 statement created no suspicion ; and when he finally left 
 .Paris, the newspapers and the gossips all said he had 
 gone to Copenhagen on his way to the far north. In due 
 time the statement reached Rome, and it was supposed 
 that society had lost sight of Giovanni Saracinesca for at 
 least eight months. It was thought that he had acted 
 with great delicacy in absenting himself ; he would thus 
 allow the first months of Corona's mourning to pass be 
 fore formally presenting himself to society as her suitor. 
 Considering the peculiar circumstances of the case, there 
 would be nothing improper, from a social point of view, 
 in his marrying Corona at the expiration of a year after 
 her husband's death. Of course he would marry her; 
 there was no doubt of that he had been in love with 
 her so long, and now she was both free and rich. No 
 one suspected that Giovanni, instead of being in Scandi 
 navia, was quietly established at Saracinesca, a day's 
 journey from Rome, busying himself with the manage 
 ment of the estate, and momentarily satisfied in feeling 
 himself so near the woman he loved. 
 
 Donna Tullia could hardly wait until the day when Del 
 Ferice was coming to dinner : she was several times on 
 the point of writing a note to ask him to come at once. 
 But she wisely refrained, guessing that the more she 
 pressed him the more difficulties he would make. At last 
 he came, looking pale and worn interesting, as Donna 
 Tullia would have expressed it. The old Countess talked 
 a great deal during dinner ; but as she was too deaf to 
 hear more than a quarter of what was said by the others, 
 the conversation was not interesting. When the meal was 
 over, she established herself in a comfortable chair in the 
 little sitting-room, and took a book. After a few minutes, 
 Donna Tullia suggested to Del Ferice that they should go 
 into the drawing-room. She had received some new waltz- 
 music from Vienna which she wanted to look over, and 
 TJgo might help her. She was not a musician, but was 
 fond of a cheerful noise, and played upon the piano with 
 the average skill of a well-educated young woman of the 
 
SARACINESCA. 273 
 
 world. Of course the doors were left open between the 
 drawing-room and the boudoir, where the Countess dozed 
 over her book and presently fell asleep. 
 
 Donna Tullia sat at the grand piano, and made Del 
 Fence sit beside her. She struck a few chords, and 
 played a fragment of dance-music. 
 
 "Of course you have heard that Don Giovanni is 
 gone ? " she asked, carelessly. "I suppose he is gone to 
 Saracinesca ; they say there is a very good road between 
 that and Astrardente." 
 
 " I should think he would have more decency than to 
 pursue the Duchessa in the first month of her mourning," 
 answered Del Ferice, resting one arm upon the piano, and 
 supporting his pale face with his hand as he watched 
 Donna Tullia's fingers move upon the keys. 
 
 "Why? He does not care what people say why 
 should he ? He will marry her when the year is Out. 
 Why should he care ? " 
 
 " He can never marry her unless I choose to allow it," 
 said Del Ferice, quietly. 
 
 "So you told me the other night," returned Donna 
 Tullia. "But you will allow him, of course. Besides, 
 you could not stop it, after all. I do not believe that 
 you could." She leaned far back in her chair, her hands 
 resting upon the keys without striking them, and she 
 looked at Del Ferice with a sweet smile. There was a 
 moment's pause. 
 
 " I have decided to tell you something," he said at last, 
 "upon one condition." 
 
 "Why make conditions ?" asked Donna Tullia, trying 
 to conceal her excitement. 
 
 " Only one, that of secrecy. Will you promise never 
 to mention what I am going to tell you without previously 
 consulting me ? I do not mean a common promise ; I 
 mean it to be an oath." He spoke very earnestly. " This 
 is a very serious matter. We are playing with fire and 
 with life and death. You must give me some guarantee 
 that you will be secret." 
 
274 SAEACINESCA. 
 
 His manner impressed Donna Tullia ; she had never 
 seen him so much in earnest in her life. 
 
 " I will promise in any way you please," she said. 
 
 "Then say this," he answered. "Say, 'I swear and 
 solemnly bind myself that I will faithfully keep the secret 
 about to be committed to me ; and that if I fail to keep it I 
 will atone by immediately marrying Ugo del Ferice ' " 
 
 " That is absurd ! " cried Donna Tullia, starting back 
 from him. He did not heed her. 
 
 " ' And I take to witness of this oath the blessed mem 
 ory of my mother, the hope of the salvation of my soul, 
 and this relic of the True Cross/ ?; He pointed to the 
 locket she wore at her neck, which she had often told 
 him contained the relic he mentioned. 
 
 " It is impossible ! " she cried again. " I cannot swear 
 so solemnly about such a matter. I cannot promise to 
 marry you." 
 
 " Then it is because you cannot promise to keep my 
 secret," he answered calmly. He knew her very well, 
 and he believed that she would not break such an oath 
 as he had dictated, under any circumstances. He did 
 not choose to risk anything by her indiscretion. Donna 
 Tullia hesitated, seeing that he was firm. She was tor 
 tured with curiosity beyond all endurance. 
 
 " I am only promising to marry you in case I reveal 
 the secret ? " she asked. He bowed assent. " So that I 
 am really only promising to be silent ? Well, I cannot 
 understand why it should be solemn ; but if you wish it 
 so, I will do it. What are the words ? " 
 
 He repeated them slowly, and she followed him. He 
 watched her at every word, to be sure she overlooked 
 nothing. 
 
 " I, Tullia Mayer, swear and solemnly bind myself that 
 I will faithfully keep the secret about to be committed 
 to me ; and that if I fail to keep it, I will atone by imme 
 diately marrying Ugo del Ferice " her voice trembled 
 nervously: "and I take to witness of this oath the 
 blessed memory of my mother, the hope of the salvation 
 
SABACINESCA. 275 
 
 of my soul, and this relic of the True Cross." At the 
 last words she took the locket in her fingers. 
 
 " You understand that you have promised to marry me 
 if you reveal my secret ? You fully understand that ? " 
 asked Del Ferice. 
 
 " I understand it," she answered hurriedly, as though 
 ashamed of what she had done. " And now, the secret," 
 she added eagerly, feeling that she had undergone a cer 
 tain humiliation for the sake of what she so much 
 coveted. 
 
 " Don Giovanni cannot marry the Duchessa d' Astrar- 
 dente, because " he paused a moment to give full weight 
 to his statement " because Don Giovanni Saracinesca is 
 married already." 
 
 " What ! " cried Donna Tullia, starting from her chair 
 in amazement at the astounding news. 
 
 " It is quite true," said Del Ferice, with a quiet smile. 
 " Calm yourself ; it is quite true. I know what you are 
 thinking of all Rome thought he was going to marry 
 you." 
 
 Donna Tullia was overcome by the strangeness of the 
 situation. She hid her face in her hands for a moment 
 as she leaned forward over the piano. Then she sud 
 denly looked up. 
 
 " What a hideous piece of villany ! " she exclaimed, in 
 a stifled voice. Then slowly recovering from the first 
 shock of the intelligence, she looked at Del Ferice ; she 
 was almost as pale as he. "What proof have you?" she 
 asked. 
 
 " I have the attested copy of the banns published by 
 the priest who married them. That is evidence. More 
 over, the real book of banns exists, and Giovanni's name 
 is upon the parish register. I have also a copy of the 
 certificate of the civil marriage, which is signed by Gio 
 vanni himself." 
 
 " Tell me more," said Donna Tullia, eagerly. " How 
 did you find it ? " 
 
 " It is very simple," answered Del Ferice. " You may 
 
2T6 SARACINESCA. 
 
 go and see for yourself, if you do not mind making a 
 short journey. Last summer I was wandering a little 
 for my health's sake, as I often do, and I chanced to be 
 in the town of Aquila you know, the capital of Abruzzi. 
 One day I happened to go into the sacristy of one of the 
 parish churches to see some pictures which are hung there. 
 There had been a marriage service performed, and as the 
 sacristan moved about explaining the pictures, he laid his 
 hand upon an open book which looked like a register of 
 some kind. I idly asked him what it was, and he showed it 
 to me ; it was amusing to look at the names of the people, 
 and I turned over the leaves curiously. Suddenly my atten 
 tion was arrested by a name I knew ' Giovanni Saracin- 
 esca,' written clearly across the page, and below it, 'Felice 
 Baldi,' the woman he had married. The date of the 
 marriage was the 19th of June 1863. You remember, 
 perhaps, that in that summer, in fact during the whole of 
 that year, Don Giovanni was supposed to be absent upon 
 his famous shooting expedition in Canada, about which 
 he talks so much. It appears, then, that two years ago, 
 instead of being in America, he was living in Aquila, 
 married to Felice Baldi probably some pretty peasant 
 girl. I started at the sight of the names. I got permis 
 sion to have an attested copy of it made by a notary. I 
 found the priest who had married them, but he could not 
 remember the couple. The man, he said, was dark, he 
 was sure; the woman, he thought, had been fair. He 
 married so many people in a year. These were not na 
 tives of Aquila; they had apparently come there from 
 the country perhaps had met. The banns yes, he had 
 the book of banns ; he had also the register of marriages 
 from which he sometimes issued certified extracts. He 
 was a good old man, and seemed ready to oblige me; 
 but his memory was very defective. He allowed me to 
 take notary's copies of the banns and the entry in the 
 list, as well as of the register. Then I went to the office 
 of the Stato Civile. You know that people do not sign 
 the register in the church themselves; the names are 
 
SAKACINESCA. 277 
 
 written down by the priest. I wanted to see the sig 
 natures, and the book of civil marriages was shown 
 to me. 
 
 The handwriting was Giovanni's, I am sure larger, 
 and a little less firm, but distinguishable at a glance. I 
 took the copies for curiosity, and never said anything 
 about it, but I have kept them. That is the history. 
 Do you see how serious a matter it is ? " 
 
 " Indeed, yes," answered Donna Tullia, who had listened 
 with intense interest to the story. "But what could have 
 induced him to marry that woman ? " 
 
 " One of those amiable eccentricities peculiar to his 
 family," replied Del Ferice, shrugging his shoulders. 
 " The interesting thing would be to discover what be 
 came of Felice Baldi Donna Felice Saracinesca, as I 
 suppose she has a right to be called." 
 
 " Let us find her Giovanni's wife," exclaimed Donna 
 Tullia, eagerly. " Where can she be ? " 
 
 "Who knows ? " ejaculated Del Ferice. "I would be 
 curious to see her. The name of her native village is 
 given, and the names of her parents. Giovanni described 
 himself in the paper as ' of Naples, a landholder, 7 and 
 omitted somehow the details of his parentage. Nothing 
 could be more vague ; everybody is a landholder, from the 
 wretched peasant who cultivates one acre to their high- 
 and-mightinesses the Princes of Saracinesca. Perhaps by 
 going to the village mentioned some information might 
 be obtained. He probably left her sufficiently provided 
 for, and, departing on pretence of a day's journey, never 
 returned. He is a perfectly unscrupulous man, and thinks 
 no more of this mad scrape than of shooting a chamois in 
 the Tyrol. He knows she can never find him never 
 guessed who he really was." 
 
 "Perhaps she is dead," suggested Donna Tullia, her 
 face suddenly growing grave. 
 
 " Why ? He would not have taken the trouble to kill 
 her a peasant girl in the Abruzzi ! He would have had 
 no diniculty in leaving her, and she is probably alive and 
 
278 SARACINESCA. 
 
 well at the present moment, perhaps the mother of the 
 future Prince Saracinesca who can tell ? " 
 
 " But do you not see," said Donna Tullia, " that unless 
 you have proof that she is alive, we have no hold upon 
 him ? He may acknowledge the whole thing, and calmly 
 inform us that she is dead." 
 
 "That is true; but even then he must show that she 
 came to a natural end and was buried. Believe me, Gio 
 vanni would relinquish all intentions of marrying the 
 Astrardente rather than have this scandalous story pub 
 lished." 
 
 " I would like to tax him with it in a point-blank ques 
 tion, and watch his face," said Donna Tullia, fiercely. 
 
 " Eemember your oath," said Del Ferice. " But he is 
 gone now. You will not meet him for some months." 
 
 " Tell me, how could you make use of this knowledge, 
 if you really wanted to prevent his marriage with the 
 Astrardente ? " 
 
 "I would advise you to go to her and state the case. 
 You need mention nobody. Any one who chooses may 
 go to Aquila and examine the registers. I think that you 
 could convey the information to her with as much com 
 mand of language as would be necessary." 
 
 " I daresay I could," she answered, between her teeth. 
 " What a strange chance it was that brought that regis 
 ter under your hand ! " 
 
 "Heaven sends opportunities," said Del Ferice, de 
 voutly; "it is for man to make good use of them. 
 Who knows but what you may make a brilliant use of 
 this ? " 
 
 "I cannot, since I am bound by my promise," said 
 Donna Tullia. 
 
 " No ; I am sure you will not think of doing it. But 
 then, we might perhaps agree that circumstances made it 
 advisable to act. Many months must pass before he can 
 think of offering himself to her. It will be time enough 
 to consider the matter then to consider whether we 
 should be justified in raising such a terrible scandal, in 
 
SABACINESCA. 279 
 
 causing so much unhappiness to an innocent woman like 
 the Duchessa, and to a worthless man like Don Giovanni. 
 Think what a disgrace it would be to the Saracinesca to 
 have it made public that Giovanni was openly engaged 
 to marry a great heiress while already secretly married 
 to a peasant woman ! " 
 
 " It would indeed be horrible," said Donna Tullia, with 
 a disagreeable look in her blue eyes. " Perhaps we should 
 not even think of it," she added, turning over the leaves 
 of the music upon the piano. Then suddenly she added, 
 " Do you know that you have put me in a dreadful posi 
 tion by exacting that promise from me ? " 
 
 " No," said Del Ferice, quietly. " You wanted to hear 
 the secret. You have heard it. You have nothing to do 
 but to keep it to yourself." 
 
 "That is precisely " She checked herself, and 
 
 struck a loud chord upon the instrument. She had turned 
 from Del Ferice, and could not see the smile upon his 
 face, which nickered across the pale features and van 
 ished instantly. 
 
 "Think no more about it," he said pleasantly. " It' is 
 so easy to forget such stories when one resolutely puts 
 them out of one's mind." 
 
 Donna Tullia smiled bitterly, and was silent. She 
 began playing from the sheet before her, with indifferent 
 accuracy, but with more than sufficient energy. Del 
 Ferice sat patiently by her side, turning over the leaves, 
 and glancing from time to time at her face, which he 
 really admired exceedingly. He belonged to the type 
 of pale and somewhat phlegmatic men who frequently 
 fall in love with women of sanguine complexion and 
 robust appearance. Donna Tullia was a fine type of this 
 class, and was called handsome, though she did not com- * 
 pare well with women of less pretension to beauty, but 
 more delicacy and refinement. Del Ferice admired her 
 greatly, however ; and, as has been said, he admired her 
 fortune even more. He saw himself gradually approach 
 ing the goal of his intentions, and as he neared the desired 
 
280 SAKACINESCA. 
 
 end he grew more and more cautious. He had played one 
 of his strongest cards that night, and he was content to 
 wait and let matters develop quietly, without any more 
 pushing from him. The seed would grow, there was no 
 fear of that, and his position was strong. He could wait 
 quietly for the result. 
 
 At the end of half an hour he excused himself upon the 
 plea that he was still only convalescent, and was unable 
 to bear the fatigue of late hours. Donna Tullia did not 
 press him to stay, for she wished to be alone ; and when 
 he was gone she sat long at the open piano, pondering 
 upon what she had done, and even more upon what she 
 had escaped doing. It was a hideous thought that if 
 Giovanni, in all that long winter, had asked her to be his 
 wife, she would readily have consented ; it was fearful 
 to think what her position would have been towards Del 
 Ferice, who would have been able by a mere word to 
 annul her marriage by proving the previous one at 
 Aquila. People do not trifle with such accusations, and 
 he certainly knew what he was doing ; she would have 
 been bound hand and foot. Or supposing that Del 
 Ferice had died of the wound he received in the duel, 
 and his papers had been ransacked by his heirs, whoever 
 they might be these attested documents would have 
 become public property. What a narrow escape Gio 
 vanni had had ! And she herself, too, how nearly had 
 she been involved in his ruin ! She liked to think that 
 he had almost offered himself to her; it flattered her, 
 although she now hated him so cordially. She could 
 not help admiring Del Ferice's wonderful discretion in 
 so long concealing a piece of scandal that would have 
 shaken Roman society to its foundations, and she trem 
 bled when she thought what would happen if she herself 
 were ever tempted to reveal what she had heard. Del 
 Ferice was certainly a man of genius so quiet, and yet 
 possessing such weapons ; there was some generosity 
 about him too, or he would have revenged himself for 
 his wound by destroying Giovanni's reputation. She 
 
SAKACINESCA. 281 
 
 considered whether she could have kept her counsel so 
 well in his place. After all, as he had said, the moment 
 for using the documents had not yet come, for hitherto 
 Giovanni had never proposed to marry any one. Perhaps 
 this secret wedding in Aquila explained his celibacy; 
 Del Ferice had perhaps misjudged him in saying that he 
 was unscrupulous ; he had perhaps left his peasant wife, 
 repenting of his folly, but it was perhaps on her account 
 that he had never proposed to marry Donna Tullia ; he 
 had, then, only been amusing himself with Corona. That 
 all seemed likely enough so likely, that it heightened 
 the certainty of Del Ferice's information. 
 
 A few days later, as Giovanni had intended, news began 
 to reach Eome that he had been in Florence, and was 
 actually in Paris; then it was said that he was going 
 upon a shooting expedition somewhere in the far north 
 during the summer. It was like him, and in accordance 
 with his tastes. He hated the quiet receptions at the 
 great houses during Lent, to which, if he remained in 
 Eome, he was obliged to go. He naturally escaped 
 when he could. But there was no escape for Donna 
 Tullia, and after all she managed to extract some amuse 
 ment from these gatherings. She was the acknowledged 
 centre of the more noisy set, and wherever she went, 
 people who wanted to be amused, and were willing to 
 amuse each other, congregated around her. On one of 
 these occasions she met old Saracinesca. He did not 
 go out much since his son had left ; but he seemed cheer 
 ful enough, and as he liked Madame Mayer, for some 
 inscrutable reason, she rather liked him. Moreover, 
 her interest in Giovanni, though now the very reverse of 
 affectionate, made her anxious to know something of his 
 movements. 
 
 "You must be lonely since Don Giovanni has gone 
 upon his travels again," she said. 
 
 " That is the reason I go out," said the Prince. " It is 
 not very gay, but it is better than nothing. It suggests 
 cold meat served up after the dessert j but when people 
 
282 SARACINESCA. 
 
 are hungry, the order of their food is not of much im 
 portance." 
 
 " Is there any news, Prince ? I want to be amused." 
 
 " News ? No. The world is at peace, and consequently 
 given over to sin, as it mostly is when it is resting from 
 a fit of violence." 
 
 " You seem to be inclined to moralities this evening," 
 said Donna Tullia, smiling, and gently swaying the red 
 fan she always carried. 
 
 " Am I ? Then I am growing old, I suppose. It is 
 the privilege of old age to censure in. others what it is 
 no longer young enough to praise in itself. It is a bad 
 thing to grow old, but it makes people good, or makes 
 them think they are, which in their own eyes is precisely 
 the same thing." 
 
 " How delightfully cynical ! " 
 
 " Doggish ? " inquired the Prince, with a laugh. " I 
 have heard it said by scholars, that cynical means dog 
 gish in Greek. The fable of the dog in the horse's man 
 ger was invented to define the real cynic the man who 
 neither enjoys life himself nor will allow other people to 
 enjoy it. I am not such a man. I hope you, for in 
 stance, will enjoy everything that comes in your way." 
 
 " Even the cold meat after the dessert which you spoke 
 of just now ? " asked Donna Tullia. " Thank you I 
 will try ; perhaps you can help me." 
 
 " My son despised it," said Saracinesca. " He is gone 
 in search of fresh pastures of sweets." 
 
 " Leaving you behind." 
 
 " Somebody once said that the wisest thing a son could 
 do was to get rid of his father as soon as possible " 
 
 " Then Don Giovanni is a wise man," returned Donna 
 Tullia. 
 
 " Perhaps. However, he asked me to accompany him." 
 
 "You refused?" 
 
 " Of course. Such expeditions are good enough for 
 boys. I dislike Florence, I am not especially fond of 
 Paris, and I detest the North Pole. I suppose you have 
 
SAEACINESCA. 283 
 
 seen from the papers that he is going in that direction ? 
 It is like him, he hankers after originality, I suppose. 
 Being born in the south, he naturally goes to the extreme 
 north." 
 
 "He will write you very interesting letters, I should 
 think," remarked Donna Tullia. "Is he a good corre 
 spondent ? " 
 
 "Bemarkably, for he never gives one any trouble. He 
 sends his address from time to time, and draws frequently 
 on his banker. His letters are not so full of interest as 
 might be thought, as they rarely extend over five lines ; 
 but on the other hand it does not take long to read them, 
 which is a blessing." 
 
 "You seem to be an affectionate parent," said Donna 
 Tullia, with a laugh. 
 
 "If you measure affection by the cost of postage-stamps, 
 you have a right to be sarcastic. If you measure it in 
 any other way, you are wrong. I could not help loving 
 any one so like myself as my son. It would show a 
 detestable lack of appreciation of my own gifts." 
 
 " I do not think Don Giovanni so very like you," said 
 Donna Tullia, thoughtfully. 
 
 " Perhaps you do not know him so well as I do," remarked 
 the Prince. " Where do you see the greatest difference ? " 
 
 " I think you talk better, and I think you are more 
 not exactly more honest, perhaps, but more straight 
 forward." 
 
 "I do not agree with you," said old Saracinesca, quickly. 
 " There is no one alive who can say they ever knew Gio 
 vanni approach in the most innocent way to a distortion 
 of truth. I daresay you have discovered, however, that 
 he is reticent ; he can hold his tongue ; he is no chatterer, 
 no parrot, my son." 
 
 " Indeed he is not," answered Donna Tullia, and the 
 reply pacified the old man ; but she herself was thinking 
 what supreme reticence Giovanni had shown in the matter 
 of his marriage, and she wondered whether the Prince 
 had ever heard of it. 
 
284 SABACINESCA. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIL 
 
 Anastase Gouache worked hard at the Cardinal's por 
 trait, and at the same time did his best to satisfy Donna 
 Tullia. The latter, indeed, was not easily pleased, and 
 Gouache found it hard to instil into his representation of 
 her the precise amount of poetry she required, without 
 doing violence to his own artistic sense of fitness. But the 
 other picture progressed rapidly. The Cardinal was a 
 restless man, and after the first two or three sittings, de 
 sired nothing so much as to be done with them altogether. 
 Anastase amused him, it is true, and the statesman soon 
 perceived that he had made a conquest of the young 
 man's mind, and that, as Giovanni Saracinesca had pre 
 dicted, he had helped Gouache to come to a decision. 
 He was not prepared, however, for the practical turn that 
 decision immediately took, and he was just beginning to 
 wish the sittings at an end when Anastase surprised him 
 by a very startling announcement. 
 
 As usual, they were in the Cardinal's study ; the states 
 man was silent and thoughtful, and Gouache was working 
 with all his might. 
 
 " I have made up my mind," said the latter, suddenly. 
 
 " Concerning what, my friend ? " inquired the great man, 
 rather absently. 
 
 "Concerning everything, Eminence," answered Gouache 
 " concerning politics, religion, life, death, and everything 
 else which belongs to my career. I am going to enlist 
 with the Zouaves." 
 
 The Cardinal looked at him for a moment, and then 
 broke into a low laugh. 
 
 "Extremis malis extrema remedial" he exclaimed. 
 
 " Precisely aux grands maux les grands remedes, as we 
 say. I am going to join the Church militant. I am con 
 vinced that it is the best thing an honest man can do. I 
 like fighting, and I like the Church therefore I will fight 
 for the Church." 
 
SARACINESCA. 285 
 
 " Very good logic, indeed," answered the Cardinal. But 
 lie looked at Anastase, and marking his delicate features 
 and light frame, he almost wondered how the lad would 
 look in the garb of a soldier. "Very good logic; but, 
 my dear Monsieur Gouache, what is to become of your 
 art?" 
 
 "I shall not be mounting guard all day, and the Zouaves 
 are allowed to live in their own lodgings. I will live in 
 my studio, and paint when I am not mounting guard." 
 
 " And my portrait ? " inquired Cardinal Antonelli, much 
 amused. 
 
 " Your Eminence will doubtless be kind enough to man 
 age that I may have liberty to finish it." 
 
 " You could not put off enlisting for a week, I suppose ? " 
 
 Gouache looked annoyed ; he hated the idea of waiting. 
 
 " I have taken too long to make up my mind already," 
 he replied. "I must make the plunge at once. I am 
 convinced your Eminence has convinced me that I 
 have been very foolish." 
 
 "I certainly never intended to convince you of that," 
 remarked the Cardinal, with a smile. 
 
 " Very foolish," repeated Gouache, not heeding the in 
 terruption. " I have talked great nonsense, I scarcely 
 know why perhaps to try and find where the sense really 
 lay. I have dreamed so many dreams, so long, that I 
 sometimes think I am morbid. All artists are morbid, I 
 suppose. It is better to do anything active than to lose 
 one's self in the slums of a sickly imagination." 
 
 " I agree with you," answered the Cardinal ; " but I do 
 not think you suffered from a sickly imagination, I 
 should rather call it abundant than sickly. Frankly, I 
 should be sorry to think that in following this new idea 
 you were in any way injuring the great career which, I 
 am sure, is before you ; but, on the other hand, I cannot 
 help wishing that a greater number of young men would 
 follow your example." 
 
 " Your Eminence approves, then ? " 
 
 " Do you think you will make a good soldier ? " 
 
 Vol. 1013 
 
286 SARACINESCA. 
 
 "Other artists have been good soldiers. There was 
 Cellini " 
 
 "Benvenuto Cellini said he made a good soldier; he 
 said it himself, but his reputation for veracity in other 
 matters was doubtful, to say the least. If he did not 
 shoot the Connetable de Bourbon, it is very certain that 
 some one else did. Besides, a soldier in our times should 
 be a very different kind of man from the self -armed citi 
 zen of the time of Clement the Ninth and the aforesaid 
 Connetable. You will have to wear a uniform and sleep 
 on boards in a guard-house ; you will have to be up early 
 to drill, and up late mounting guard, in wind and rain and 
 cold. It is hard work ; I do not believe you have the 
 constitution for it. Nevertheless, the intention is good. 
 You can try it, and if you fall ill I will see that you have 
 no difficulty in returning to your artist life." 
 
 "I do not mean to give it up," replied Gouache, in a 
 tone of conviction. " And as for my health, I am as strong 
 as any one." 
 
 "Perhaps," said the Cardinal, doubtfully. "And when 
 are you going to join the corps ? " 
 
 "In about an hour," said Gouache, quietly. 
 
 And he kept his word. But he had told no one, 
 save the Cardinal, of his intention ; and for a day or two, 
 though he passed many acquaintances in the street, no 
 one recognised Anastase Gouache in the handsome young 
 soldier with his grey Turco uniform, a red sash round 
 his slender waist, and a small Mpi set jauntily upon one 
 side. 
 
 It was one of the phenomena of those times. For 
 eigners swarmed in Rome, and many of them joined the 
 cosmopolitan corps gentlemen, noblemen, artists, men of 
 the learned professions, adventurers, duellists driven from 
 their country in a temporary exile, enthusiasts, strolling 
 Irishmen, men of all sorts and conditions. But, take 
 them all in all, they were a fine set of fellows, who set 
 no value whatever on their lives, and who, as a whole, 
 fought for an idea, in the old crusading spirit. There 
 
SARACINESCA. 287 
 
 were many who, like Gouache, joined solely from convic 
 tion ; and there were few instances indeed of any who, 
 having joined, deserted. It often happened that a stran 
 ger came to Eome for a mere visit, and at the end of a 
 month surprised his friends by appearing in the grey 
 uniform. You had met him the night before at a ball in 
 the ordinary garb of civilisation, covered with cotillon 
 favours, waltzing like a madman ; the next morning he 
 entered the Cafe* de Eome in a braided jacket open at 
 the throat, and told you he was a soldier a private sol 
 dier, who touched his cap to every corporal of the French 
 infantry, and was liable to be locked up for twenty-four 
 hours if he was late to quarters. 
 
 Donna Tullia's portrait was not quite finished, and 
 Gouache had asked for one or two more sittings. Three 
 days after the artist had taken his great resolution, 
 Madame Mayer and Del Ferice entered his studio. He 
 had had no difficulty in being at liberty at the hour of 
 the sitting, and had merely exchanged his jacket for an 
 old painting-coat, not taking the trouble to divest him 
 self of the remainder of his uniform. 
 
 " Where have you been all this time ? " asked Donna 
 Tullia, as she lifted the curtain and entered the studio. 
 He had kept out of her way during the past few days. 
 
 " Good heavens, Gouache ! " cried Del Ferice, starting 
 back, as he caught sight of the artist's grey trousers and 
 yellow gaiters. " What is the meaning of this comedy ? " 
 
 " What ? " asked Gouache, coolly. Then, glancing at 
 his legs, he answered, "Oh, nothing. I have turned 
 Zouave that is all. Will you sit down, Donna Tullia ? 
 I was waiting for you." 
 
 " Turned Zouave ! " exclaimed Madame Mayer and Del 
 Ferice in a breath. " Turned Zouave ! " 
 
 "Well?" said Gouache, raising his eyebrows and 
 enjoying their surprise. "Well why not?" 
 
 Del Ferice struck a fine attitude, and, laying one hand 
 upon Donna Tullia's arm, whispered hoarsely in her 
 ear 
 
288 SARACINESCA. 
 
 " Siamo traditi we are betrayed ! " lie said. Where 
 upon Donna Tullia turned a little pale. 
 
 " Betrayed ! " she repeated, " and by Gouache ! " 
 
 Gouache laughed, as he drew out the battered old 
 carved chair on which Madame Mayer was accustomed 
 to sit when he painted. 
 
 " Calm yourself, Madame," he said. " I have not the 
 least intention of betraying you. I have made a counter 
 revolution but I am perfectly frank. I will not tell of 
 the ferocious deeds I have heard discussed." 
 
 Del Ferice scowled and drew back, partly acting, 
 partly in earnest. It lay in his schemes to make Donna 
 Tullia believe herself involved in a genuine plot, and 
 from this point of view he felt that he must pretend the 
 greatest horror and surprise. On the other hand, he 
 knew that Gouache had been painting the Cardinal's 
 portrait, and guessed that the statesman had acquired a 
 strong influence over the artist's mind an influence 
 which was already showing itself in a way that looked 
 dangerous. It had never struck him until quite lately 
 that Anastase, a republican by descent and conviction, 
 could suddenly step into the reactionary camp. 
 
 " Pardon me, Donna Tullia," said Ugo, in serious tones, 
 " pardon me but I think we should do well to leave 
 Monsieur Gouache to the contemplation of his new career. 
 This is no place for us the company of traitors " 
 
 " Look here, Del Ferice," said Gouache, suddenly going 
 up to him and looking him in the face, " do you seri 
 ously believe that anything you have ever said in this 
 room is worth betraying ? or, if you do, do you really 
 think that I would betray it ? " 
 
 "Bah!" exclaimed Donna Tullia, interposing, "it is 
 nonsense ! Gouache is a gentleman, of course and 
 besides, I mean to have my portrait, politics or no poli 
 tics." 
 
 With this round statement Donna Tullia sat down, and 
 Del Ferice had no choice but to follow her example. He 
 was profoundly disgusted, but he saw at a glance that it 
 
SABACINESCA. 289 
 
 wonlckbe hopeless to attempt to dissuade Madame Mayer 
 when she had once made up her mind. 
 
 " And now you can tell us all about it," said Donna 
 Tullia. " What, in the name of all that is senseless, has 
 induced you to join the Zouaves ? It really makes me 
 very nervous to see you." 
 
 " That lends poetry to your expression," interrupted 
 Gouache. " I wish you were always nervous. You really 
 want to know why I am a Zouave ? It is very simple. 
 You must know that I always follow my impulses." 
 
 " Impulses ! " ejaculated Del Ferice, moodily. 
 
 " Yes ; because my impulses are always good, whereas 
 when I reflect much, my judgment is always bad. I felt 
 a strong impulse to wear the grey uniform, so I walked 
 into the recruiting office and wrote my name down." 
 
 " I feel a strong impulse to walk out of your studio, 
 Monsieur Gouache," said Donna Tullia, with a rather 
 nervous laugh. 
 
 " Then allow me to tell you that, whereas my impulses 
 are good, yours are not," replied Anastase, quietly paint 
 ing. " Because I have a new dress " 
 
 " And new convictions," interrupted Del Ferice ; " you 
 who were always arguing about convictions ! " 
 
 " I had none ; that is the reason I argued about them. 
 I have plenty now I argue no longer." 
 
 " You are wise," retorted Ugo. " Those you have got 
 will never bear discussion." 
 
 "Excuse me," answered Gouache; "if you will take the 
 trouble to be introduced to his Eminence Cardinal 
 Antonelli " 
 
 Donna Tullia held up her hands in horror. 
 
 " That horrible man ! That Mephistopheles ! " she cried. 
 
 " That Macchiavelli ! That arch-enemy of our holy 
 Liberty ! " exclaimed Del Ferice, in theatrical tones. 
 
 " Exactly," answered Gouache. " If he could be in 
 duced to devote a quarter of an hour of his valuable time 
 to talking with you, he would turn your convictions round 
 his finger." 
 
290 SARACINESCA. 
 
 " This is too much. ! " cried Del Ferice, angrily. 
 
 "I think it is very amusing," said Donna Tullia. 
 " What a pity that all Liberals are not artists, whom his 
 Eminence could engage to paint his portrait and be con 
 verted at so much an hour ! " 
 
 Gouache smiled quietly, and went on with his work. 
 
 " So he told you to go and turn Zouave," remarked 
 Donna Tullia, after a pause, " and you submitted like a 
 lamb." 
 
 " So far was the Cardinal from advising me to turn 
 soldier, that he expressed the greatest surprise when I 
 told him of my intention," returned Gouache, rather 
 coldly. 
 
 " Indeed it is enough to take away even a cardinal's 
 breath," answered Madame Mayer. "I was never, never 
 so surprised in my life ! " 
 
 Gouache stood up to get a view of his work, and Donna 
 Tullia looked at him critically. 
 
 " Tiens ! " she exclaimed, " it is rather becoming what 
 small ankles you have, Gouache ! " 
 
 Anastase laughed. It was impossible to be grave in. 
 the face of such utterly frivolous inconsistency. 
 
 " You will allow your expression to change so often, 
 Donna Tullia ! It is impossible to catch it." 
 
 " Like your convictions," murmured Del Ferice from 
 his corner. Indeed Ugo did not know what to make of 
 the scene. He had miscalculated the strength of Donna 
 Tullia's fears as compared with her longing to possess a 
 flattering portrait of herself. Bather than leave the pic 
 ture unfinished, she exhibited a cynical indifference to 
 danger which would have done honour to a better man 
 than Del Ferice. Perhaps, too, she understood Gouache 
 well enough to know that he might be trusted. Indeed 
 any one would have trusted Gouache. Even Del Ferice 
 was less disturbed at the possibility of the artist's repeat 
 ing any of the trivial liberal talk which he had listened 
 to, than at the indifference to discovery shown by Donna 
 Tullia. To Del Ferice, the whole thing had been but a 
 
SARACINESCA. 291 
 
 harmless play ; but lie wanted Madame Mayer to believe 
 that it had all been in solemn earnest, and that she was 
 really implicated in a dangerous plot ; for it gave him a 
 stronger hold upon her for his own ends. 
 
 " So you are going to fight for Pio Nono," remarked 
 Ugo, scornfully, after another pause. 
 
 " I am," replied Gouache. " And, no offence to you, my 
 friend, if I meet you in a red shirt among the Garibaldini, 
 I will kill you. It would be very unpleasant, so I hope 
 that you will not join them." 
 
 " Take care, Del Ferice," laughed Donna Tullia ; "your 
 life is in danger ! You had better join the Zouaves in 
 stead." 
 
 "I cannot paint his Eminence's portrait," returned 
 Ugo, with a sneer, " so there is no chance of that." 
 
 " You might assist him with wholesome advice, I should 
 think," answered Gouache. " I have no doubt you could 
 tell him much that would be very useful." 
 
 " And turn traitor to " 
 
 " Hush ! Do not be so silly, Del Ferice," interrupted 
 Donna Tullia, who began to fear that Del Ferice's taunts 
 would make trouble. She had a secret conviction that it 
 would not be good to push the gentle Anastase too far. 
 He was too quiet, too determined, and too serious not to 
 be a little dangerous if roused. 
 
 " Do not be absurd," she repeated. " Whatever Gou 
 ache may choose to do, he is a gentleman, and I will not 
 have you talk of traitors like that. He does not quarrel 
 with you why do you try to quarrel with him ? " 
 
 " I think he has done quite enough to justify a quarrel, 
 I am sure," replied Del Ferice, moodily. 
 
 " My dear sir," said Gouache, desisting from his work 
 and turning towards Ugo, " Madame is quite right. I not 
 only do not quarrel, but I refuse to be quarrelled with. 
 You have my most solemn assurance that whatever has 
 previously passed here, whatever I have heard said by 
 you, by Donna Tullia, by Valdarno, by any of your 
 friends, I regard as an inviolable secret. You formerly 
 
292 SABACINESCA. 
 
 said I had no convictions, and you were right. I had 
 none, and I listened to your exposition of your own with 
 considerable interest. My case is changed. I need not 
 tell you what I believe, for I wear the uniform of a Papal 
 Zouave. When I put it on, I certainly did not contem 
 plate offending you ; I do not wish to offend you now I 
 only beg that you will refrain from offending me. For my 
 part, I need only say that henceforth I do not desire to 
 take a part in your councils. If Donna Tullia is satisfied 
 with her portrait, there need be no further occasion for 
 our meeting. If, on the contrary, we are to meet again, 
 I beg that we may meet on a footing of courtesy and 
 mutual respect." 
 
 It was impossible to say more ; and Gouache's speech 
 terminated the situation so far as Del Ferice was con 
 cerned. Donna Tullia smilingly expressed her approval. 
 
 "Quite right, Gouache," she said. "You know it 
 would be impossible to leave the portrait as it is now. 
 The mouth, you know you promised to do something to 
 it just the expression, you know." 
 
 Gouache bowed his head a little, and set to work again 
 without a word. Del Ferice did not speak again during 
 the sitting, but sat moodily staring at the canvas, at 
 Donna Tullia, and at the floor. It was not often that he 
 was moved from his habitual suavity of manner, but 
 Gouache's conduct had made him feel particularly un 
 comfortable. 
 
 The next time Donna Tullia came to sit, she brought 
 her old Countess, and Del Ferice did not appear. The 
 portrait was ultimately finished to the satisfaction of all 
 parties, and was hung in Donna Tullia's drawing-room, 
 to be admired and criticised by all her friends. But 
 Gouache rejoiced when the thing was finally removed 
 from his studio, for he had grown to hate it, and had been 
 almost willing to flatter it out of all likeness to Madame 
 Mayer, for the sake of not being eternally confronted by 
 the cold stare of her blue eyes. He finished the Cardi 
 nal's portrait too \ and the statesman not only paid for it 
 
SAKACINESCA. 293 
 
 with unusual liberality, but gave the artist what he called 
 a little memento of the long hours they had spent to 
 gether. He opened one of the lockers in his study, and 
 from a small drawer selected an ancient ring, in which was 
 set a piece of crystal with a delicate intaglio of a figure 
 of Victory. He took Gouache's hand and slipped the 
 ring upon his finger. He had taken a singular liking to 
 Anastase. 
 
 "Wear it as a little souvenir of me," he said kindly. 
 " It is a Victory; you are a soldier now, so I pray that 
 victory may go with you ; and I give Victory herself into 
 your hands." 
 
 " And I," said Gouache, " will pray that it may be a 
 symbol in my hand of the real victories you are to win." 
 
 " Only a symbol," returned the Cardinal, thoughtfully. 
 " Nothing but a symbol. I was not born to conquer, but 
 to lead a forlorn-hope to deceive vanquished men with a 
 hope not real, and to deceive the victors with an unreal 
 fear. Nevertheless, my friend," he added, grasping Gou 
 ache's hand, and fixing upon him his small bright eyes, 
 " nevertheless, let us fight, fight fight to the very end ! " 
 
 "We will fight to the end, Eminence," said Gouache. 
 He was only a private of Zouaves, and the man whose 
 hand he held was great and powerful ; but the same spirit 
 was in the hearts of both, the same courage, the same de 
 votion to the failing cause and both kept their words, 
 each in his own way. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 Astrardente was in some respects a picturesque place. 
 The position of the little town gave it a view in both 
 directions from where it stood ; for it was built upon a 
 precipitous eminence rising suddenly out of the midst of 
 the narrow strip of fertile land, the long and rising valley 
 
294 SAEACINESCA. 
 
 which, from its lower extremity, conducted by many cir 
 cuits to the Roman Campagna, and which ended above in 
 the first rough passes of the lower Abruzzi. The base of 
 the town extended into the vineyards and olive -orchards 
 which surrounded the little hill on all sides ; and the sum 
 mit of it was crowned by the feudal palace-castle an 
 enormous building of solid stone, in the style of the fifteenth, 
 century. Upon the same spot had formally stood a rugged 
 fortress, but the magnificent ideas of the Astrardente pope 
 had not tolerated such remains of barbarism ; the ancient 
 stronghold had been torn down, and on its foundations rose 
 a gigantic mansion, consisting of a main palace, with great 
 balconies and columned front, overlooking the town, and 
 of two massive wings leading back like towers to the edge 
 of the precipitous rock to northwards. Between these 
 wings a great paved court formed a sort of terrace, open 
 upon one side, and ornamented within with a few antique 
 statues dug up upon the estates, and with numerous plants, 
 which the old duke had caused to be carefully cultivated 
 in vases, and which were only exposed upon the terrace 
 during the warm summer months. The view from the 
 court was to the north that is to say, down the valley, 
 comprehending ranges of hills that seemed to cross and 
 recross into the extreme distance, their outlines being 
 each time less clearly defined, as the masses in each suc 
 ceeding range took a softer purple hue. 
 
 Within, the palace presented a great variety of apart 
 ments. There were suites of vaulted rooms upon the lower 
 floor, frescoed in the good manner of the fifteenth cen 
 tury ; there were other suites above, hung with ancient 
 tapestry and furnished with old-fashioned marble tables, 
 and mirrors in heavily gilt frames, and one entire wing 
 had been lately fitted up in the modern style. In this 
 part of the house Corona established herself with Sister 
 Gabrielle, and began to lead a life of regular occupations 
 and profound retirement, which seemed to be rather a con 
 tinuation of her existence in the convent where she had 
 been educated as a girl, than to form any part in the life 
 
SAKACINESCA. 295 
 
 of the superb Duchessa d'Astrardente, who for five years 
 had been one of the most conspicuous persons in society. 
 Every morning at eight o'clock the two ladies, always 
 clad in deep black, attended the Mass which was celebrated 
 for them in the palace chapel. Then Corona walked for 
 an hour with her companion upon the terrace, or, if it 
 rained, beneath the covered balconies upon the south side. 
 The morning hours she passed in solitude, reading such 
 books of devotion and serious matter as most suited the 
 sad temper of her mind ; precisely at mid-day she and 
 Sister Gabrielle breakfasted together in a sort of solemn 
 state ; and at three o'clock the great landau, with its black 
 horses and mourning liveries, stood under the inner gate. 
 The two ladies appeared five minutes later, and by a ges 
 ture Corona indicated whether she would be driven up or 
 down the valley. The dashing equipage descended the 
 long smooth road that wound through the town, and re 
 turned invariably at the end of two hours, again ascended 
 the tortuous way, and disappeared beneath the dark en 
 trance. At six o'clock dinner was served, with the same 
 solemn state as attended the morning meal ; Corona and 
 Sister Gabrielle remained together until ten, and the day 
 was over. There was no more variation in the routine of 
 their lives than if they had been moved by a machinery 
 connected with the great castle clock overhead, which 
 chimed the hours and the quarters by day and night, and 
 regulated the doings of the town below. 
 
 But in spite of this unchanging sequence of similar 
 habit, the time passed pleasantly for Corona. She had 
 had too much of the brilliant lights and the buzzing din 
 of society for the last five years, too much noise, too much 
 idle talk, too much aimless movement ; she needed rest, 
 too, from the constant strain of her efforts to fulfil her 
 self-imposed duties towards her husband most of all, 
 perhaps, she required a respite from the sufferings she 
 had undergone through her stifled love for Giovanni Sara- 
 cinesca. All this she found in the magnificent calm of 
 the life at Astrardente. She meditated long upon the 
 
296 SARACINESCA. 
 
 memory of her husband, recalling lovingly those things 
 which had been most worthy in him, willingly forgetting 
 his many follies and vanities and moments of petulance. 
 She went over in her mind the many and varied scenes of 
 the past, and learned to love the sweet and silent solitude 
 of the present by comparison of it with all the useless 
 and noisy activity of the world she had for a time aban 
 doned. She had not expected to find anything more than 
 a passive companion in Sister G-abrielle ; but in the course 
 of their daily converse she discovered in her a character 
 of extreme refinement and quick perception, a depth of- 
 human sympathy and a breadth of experience which 
 amazed her, and made her own views of things seem 
 small. The Sister was devout and rigid in the observ 
 ance of the institutions of her order, in so far as she 
 was able to follow out the detail of religious regulation 
 without interfering with the convenience of her com 
 panion ; but in her conversation she showed an intimate 
 knowledge of character which was a constant source of 
 pleasure to Corona, who told the Sister long stories of 
 people she had known for the sake of hearing her admir 
 able comments upon social questions. 
 
 But besides her reading and her long hours of medita 
 tion and her talks with Sister Gabrielle, Corona found 
 occupation in the state of the town below her residence. 
 She attempted once or twice to visit the poor cottages, in 
 the hope of doing some good ; but she found that she was 
 such an object of holy awe to the inmates that they were 
 speechless in her presence, or became so nervous in their 
 desire to answer her questions, that the information she 
 was able to obtain concerning their troubles was too vague 
 to be of any use. 
 
 The Italian peasant is not the same in all parts of the 
 country, as is generally supposed ; and although the Tus 
 can, who is constantly brought into familiar contact with 
 his landlord, and acquires a certain pleasant faith in him, 
 grows eloquent upon the conditions of his being, the 
 same is not true of the rougher race that labours in the 
 
SABACINESCA. 297 
 
 valleys of the Sabine and the Samnite hills. The peasant 
 of the Agro Komano is indeed capable of civilisation, 
 and he is able to understand his superiors, provided that 
 he is gradually accustomed to seeing them : unfortunately 
 this occurs but rarely. Many of the great Roman land 
 holders spend a couple of months of every year upon 
 their estates : old Astrardente had in his later years gone 
 to considerable expense in refitting and repairing the 
 castle, but he had done little for the town. Men like 
 the Saracinesca, however, were great exceptions at that 
 time ; though they travelled much abroad, they often 
 remained for many months in their rugged old fortress. 
 They knew the inhabitants of their lands far and wide, 
 and were themselves not only known but loved; they 
 spent their money in improving the condition of their 
 peasants, in increasing the area of their forests, and in 
 fostering the fertility of the soil, but they cared nothing 
 for adorning the grey stone walls of their ancestors' 
 stronghold. It had done well enough for a thousand 
 years, it would do well enough still ; it had stood firm 
 against fierce sieges in the dark ages of the Eoman bar- 
 onry, it could afford to stand unchanged in its monu 
 mental strength against the advancing sea of nineteenth- 
 century civilisation. They themselves, father and son, 
 were content with such practical improvements as they 
 could introduce for the good of their people and the en 
 riching of their land; a manly race, despising luxury, 
 they cared little whether their home was thought com 
 fortable by the few guests they occasionally invited to 
 spend a week with them. They saw much of the peas 
 antry, and went daily among them, understanding their 
 wants, and wisely promoting in their minds the belief 
 that land cannot prosper unless both landlord and tenant 
 do their share. 
 
 But Astrardente was a holding of a very different kind, 
 and Corona, in her first attempts at understanding the 
 state of things, found herself stopped by a dead wall of 
 silence, beyond which she guessed that there lay an 
 
298 SAKACINESCA. 
 
 undiscovered land of trouble. She knew next to nothing 
 of the condition of her people ; she only imperfectly 
 understood the relations in which they actually stood to 
 herself, the extent of her power over them, and of their 
 power over her. The mysteries of emphyteusis, emphy- 
 teuma, and emphyteuta were still hidden to her, though 
 her steward spoke of them with surprising loquacity and 
 fluency. She laboured hard to understand the system 
 upon which her tenants held their lands from her, and it 
 was some time before she succeeded. It is easier to ex 
 plain the matter at once than to follow Corona in her 
 attempts to comprehend it. 
 
 To judge from the terms employed, the system of hold 
 ings common in the Pontifical States has descended with 
 out interruption from the time of the Eomans to the 
 present day. As in old Roman law, emphyteusis, now 
 spelt emfiteuse, means the possession of rights over 
 another person's land, capable of transmission by inher 
 itance ; and to-day, as under the Eomans, the holder of 
 such rights is called the emphyteuta, or emftteuta. How 
 the Eomans came to use Greek words in their tenant-law 
 does not belong to the matter in hand ; these words are 
 the only ones now in use in this part of Italy, and they 
 are used precisely as they were in remote times. 
 
 A tenant may acquire rights of emfiteuse directly from 
 the owner of the land, like an ordinary lease ; or he may 
 acquire them by settlement " squatting," as the popular 
 term is. Wherever land is lying waste, any one may 
 establish himself upon it and cultivate it, on condition of 
 paying to the owner a certain proportion of the yield of 
 the land generally one quarter either in kind or in 
 money. The landlord may, indeed, refuse the right of 
 settlement in the first instance, which would very rarely 
 occur, since most people who own barren tracts of rock 
 and heath are only too glad to promote any kind of culti 
 vation. But when the landlord has once allowed the 
 right, the right itself is constituted thereby into a pos 
 session of which the peasant may dispose as he pleases, 
 
SARACINESCA. 299 
 
 even by selling it to another. The law provides, how 
 ever, that in case of transfers by sale, the landlord shall 
 receive one year's rent in kind or in money in addition to 
 the rent due, and this bonus is paid jointly by the buyer 
 and the seller according to agreement. Such holdings 
 are inherited from father to son for many generations, 
 and are considered to be perpetual leases. The landlord 
 cannot expel a tenant except for non-payment of rent 
 during three Consecutive years. In actual fact, the right 
 of the emfiteuta in the soil is far more important than 
 that of the landlord ; for the tenant can cheat his land 
 lord as much as he pleases, whereas the injustice of the 
 law provides that under no circumstances whatsoever 
 shall the landlord cheat the tenant. In actual fact, also, 
 the rents are universally paid in kind, and the peasant 
 eats what remains of the produce, so that very little cash 
 is seen in the land. 
 
 Corona discovered that the income she enjoyed from 
 the lands of Astrardente was collected by the basketful 
 from the threshing-floors, and by the barrel from the vine 
 yards of some two hundred tenants. It was a serious mat 
 ter to gather from two hundred threshing-floors precisely 
 a quarter of the grain threshed, and from fifty or sixty 
 vineyards precisely a quarter of the wine made in each. 
 The peasants all made their wine at the same time, and 
 all threshed their grain in the same week. If the agent 
 was not on the spot during the threshing and the vintage, 
 the peasant had no difficulty whatever in hiding a large 
 quantity of his produce. As the rent was never fixed, 
 but depended solely on the yield of the year, it was pre 
 eminently to the advantage of the tenant to throw dust 
 in the eyes of the landlord whenever he got a chance. 
 The landlord found the business of watching his tenants 
 tedious and unprofitable, and naturally resorted to the 
 crowning evil of agricultural evils the employment of a 
 rent-farmer. The latter, at all events, was willing to pay 
 a fixed sum yearly ; and if the sum paid was generally 
 considerably below the real value of the rents, the arrange- 
 
300 SAEACINESCA. 
 
 ment at least assured a fixed income to the landlord, with 
 the certainty of getting it without trouble to himself. The 
 middleman then proceeded to grind the tenants at his 
 leisure and discretion in order to make the best of his 
 bargain. The result was, that while the tenant starved 
 and the landlord got less than his due in consideration of 
 being saved from annoyance, the middleman gradually 
 accumulated money. 
 
 Upon this system nine-tenths of the land in the Pon 
 tifical States was held, and much of the same land is so 
 held to-day, in spite of the modern tenant-law, for reasons 
 which will be clearly explained in another part of this 
 history. Corona saw and understood that the evil was 
 very great. She discussed the matter with her steward, 
 or ministro as he was called, who was none other than the 
 aforesaid middleman; and the more she discussed the 
 question, the more hopeless the question appeared. The 
 steward held a contract from her dead husband for a 
 number of years. He had regularly paid the yearly sums 
 agreed upon, and it would be impossible to remove him 
 for several years to come. He, of course, was strenuously 
 opposed to any change, and did his best to make himself 
 appear as an angel of mercy and justice, presiding over a 
 happy family of rejoicing peasants in the heart of a ter 
 restrial paradise. Unfortunately for himself, however, 
 he had not at first understood the motive which prompted 
 Corona's inquiries. He supposed in the beginning that 
 she was not satisfied with the amount of rent he paid, and 
 that at the expiration of his contract she intended to raise 
 the sum ; so that, on the first occasion when she sent for 
 him, he had drawn a piteous picture of the peasant's con 
 dition, and had expatiated with eloquence on his own 
 poverty, and on the extreme difficulty of collecting any 
 rents at all. It was not until he discovered that Corona's 
 chief preoccupation was for the welfare of her tenants that 
 he changed his tactics, and endeavoured to prove that all 
 was for the best upon the best of all possible estates. 
 
 Then, to his great astonishment, Corona informed him 
 
SAKACINESCA. 301 
 
 that his contract would not be renewed, and that at the 
 expiration of his term she would collect her rents herself. 
 It had taken her long to understand the situation, but 
 when she had comprehended it, she made up her mind 
 that something must be done. If her fortune had de 
 pended solely upon the income she received from the 
 Astrardente lands, she would have made up her mind to 
 reduce herself to penury rather than allow things to 
 go in the way they were going. Fortunately she was 
 rich, and if she had not all the experience necessary to 
 deal with such matters, she had plenty of goodwill, plenty 
 of generosity, and plenty of money. In her simple 
 theory of agrarian economy the best way to improve an 
 estate seemed to be to spend the income arising from it 
 directly upon its improvement, until she could take the 
 whole management of it into her own hands. The trou 
 ble, as she thought, was that there was too little money 
 among the peasants j the best way to help them was to put 
 money within their reach. The only question was how to 
 do this without demoralising them, and without increas 
 ing their liabilities towards the ministro or middleman. 
 
 Then she sent for the curate. From him she learned 
 that the people did well enough in the summer, but that 
 the winter was dreaded. She asked why. He answered 
 that they were not provident ; that the land system was 
 bad ; and that even if they saved anything the ministro 
 would take it from them. She inquired whether he 
 thought it possible to induce them to be more thrifty, 
 He thought it might be done in ten years, but not in one. 
 
 " In that case/ 7 said Corona, "the only way to improve 
 their condition is to give them work in the winter. 1 
 will make roads through the estate, and build large dwell 
 ing-houses in the town. There shall be work enough fol 
 everybody." 
 
 It was a simple plan, but it was destined to be carried 
 into execution, and to change the face of the Astrardente 
 domain in a few years. Corona sent to Home for an 
 engineer who was also a good architect, and she set her- 
 
302 SAHACINESCA. 
 
 self to study the possibilities of the place, giving the man 
 sufficient scope, and only insisting that there should be no 
 labour and no material imported from beyond the limits 
 of her lands. This provided her with an occupation 
 whereby the time passed quickly enough. 
 
 The Lenten season ended, and Eastertide ran swiftly 
 on to Pentecost. The early fruit-trees blossomed white, 
 and the flowers fell in a snow-shower to the ground, to 
 give place to the cherries and the almonds and the pears. 
 The brown bramble-hedges turned leafy, and were alive 
 with little birds ; and the great green lizards shot across 
 the woodland paths upon the hillside, and caught the flies 
 that buzzed noisily in the spring sunshine. The dried-up 
 vines put forth tiny leaves, and the maize shot suddenly 
 up to the sun out of the rich furrows, like myriads of bril 
 liant green poignards piercing the brown skin of the earth. 
 By the roadside the grass grew high, and the broad shallow 
 brooks shrank to narrow rivulets, and disappeared in the 
 overgrowing rushes before the increasing heat of the 
 climbing sun. 
 
 Corona's daily round of life never changed, but as the 
 months wore on, a stealing thought came often and often 
 again shy, as though fearing to be driven away ; silent 
 at first, as a shadow in a dream, but taking form and 
 reality from familiarity with its own self, and speaking 
 intelligible words, saying at last plainly, " Will he keep 
 his promise ? Will he never come ? " 
 
 But he came not as the fresh colours of spring deepened 
 with the rich maturity of summer ; and Corona, gazing 
 down the valley, saw the change that came over the fair 
 earth, and half guessed the change that was coming over 
 her own life. She had sought solitude instinctively, but 
 she had not known what it would bring her. She had 
 desired to honour her dead husband by withdrawing from 
 the world for a time and thinking of him and remembering 
 him. She had done so, but the youth in her rebelled at 
 last against the constant memory of old age of an old age, 
 too, which had passed away from her and was dead for ever. 
 
SARACINESCA. 303 
 
 It was right to dwell for a time upon tlie thought of her 
 widowhood, but the voice said it would not be always right. 
 The calm and noiseless tide of the old man's ceasing life 
 had ebbed slowly and reluctantly from her shore, and she 
 had followed the sad sea in her sorrow to the furthest verge 
 of its retreat ; but as she stood upon the edge of the stag 
 nant waters, gazing far out and trying to follow even 
 further the slow subsiding ooze, the tide had turned upon 
 her unawares, the fresh seaward breeze sprang up and 
 broke the dead calm with the fresh motion of crisp 
 ripples that once more flowed gladly over the dreary 
 sand, and the waters of life plashed again and laughed 
 gladly together around her feet. 
 
 The thought of Giovanni the one thought that again 
 and again kept recurring in her mind grew very sweet, 
 as sweet as it had once been bitter. There was nothing to 
 stop its growth now, and she let it have its way. What 
 did it matter, so long as he did not come near her for the 
 present ? Some day he would come ; she wondered when, 
 and how long he would keep his promise. But meanwhile 
 she was not unhappy, and she went about her occupations 
 as before ; only sometimes she would go alone at evening 
 to the balcony that faced the higher mountains, and there 
 she would stand for half an hour gazing southward to 
 wards the precipitous rocks that caught the red glare of 
 the sinking sun, and she asked herself if he were there, 
 or whether, as report had told her, he were in the far north. 
 It was but half a day's ride over the hills, he had said. 
 But strain her sight as she would, she could not pierce 
 the heavy crags nor see into the wooded dells beyond. 
 He had said he would pass the summer there ; had he 
 changed his mind ? 
 
 But she was not unhappy. There was that in her which 
 forbade unhappiness, which would have broken out into 
 great joy if she would have let it; but yet she would not. 
 It was too soon yet to say aloud what she said in her heart 
 daily, that she loved Giovanni with a great love, and that 
 she knew she was free to love him. In that thought there 
 
304 SARACINESCA. 
 
 was enough of joy. But he might come if he would ; her 
 anger would not be great if he broke his promise now, he 
 had kept it so long six whole months. But by-and-by, 
 as the days passed, the first note of happiness was marred 
 by the discordant ring of a distant fear. What if she 
 had too effectually forbidden him to see her ? What if 
 he had gone out disappointed of all hope, and was really 
 in distant Scandinavia, as the papers said, risking his life 
 in mad adventures ? 
 
 But after all, that was not what she feared. He was 
 strong, young, brave he had survived a thousand dangers, 
 he would survive these also. There arose between her 
 and the thought of him an evil shadow, the image of a 
 woman, and it took the shape of Donna Tullia so vividly 
 that she could see the red lips move and almost hear the 
 noisy laugh. She was angry with herself at the idea, but 
 it recurred continually and gave her pain, and the pain 
 grew to an intolerable fear. She began to feel that she 
 must know where he was, at any cost, or she cou]d have 
 no peace. She was restless and nervous, and began to be 
 absent-minded in her conversation with Sister Gabrielle. 
 The good woman saw it, and advised a little change 
 anything, an excursion of a day for instance. Corona, she 
 said, was too young to lead this life. 
 
 Her mind leaped at the idea. It was but half a day's 
 ride, he had said ; she would climb those hills and look 
 down upon Saracinesca only once. She might perhaps 
 meet some peasant, and by a careless inquiry she would 
 learn whether he was there or would be there in the 
 summer. IsTo one would know ; and besides, Sister Gabri 
 elle had said that an excursion would do Corona good. 
 Sister Gabrielle had probably never heard that Saracinesca 
 was so near, and she certainly would not guess that the 
 Duchessa had any interest in its lord. She announced 
 her intention, and the Sister approved she herself, she 
 said, was too weak to undergo the fatigue. 
 
 On the following morning, Corona alone entered her 
 carriage and was driven many miles up the southward 
 
SAKACINESCA. 305 
 
 hills, till the road was joined by a broad bridle-path that 
 led eastwards towards the Abruzzi. Here she was met by 
 a party of horsemen, her own guardiani, or forest-keepers, 
 as they are called, in rough dark-blue coats and leathern 
 gaiters. Each man wore upon his breast a round plate of 
 chiselled silver, bearing the arms of the Astrardente ; each 
 had a long rifle slung behind him, and carried a holster 
 at the bow of his huge saddle. A couple of sturdy black- 
 browed peasants held a mule by the bridle, heavily capari 
 soned in the old fashion, under a great red velvet Spanish 
 saddle, with long tarnished trappings that had once been 
 embroidered with silver. A little knot of peasants and 
 ragged boys stood all around watching the preparations 
 with interest, and commenting audibly upon the beauty of 
 the great lady. 
 
 Corona mounted from a stone by the wayside, and the 
 young men led her beast up the path. She smiled to 
 herself, for she had never done such a thing before, but 
 she was not uneasy in the company of her rough-looking 
 escort. She knew well enough that she was as safe with 
 them as in her own house. 
 
 As the bridle-path wound up from the road, the coun 
 try grew more rugged, the vegetation more scanty, and 
 the stones more plentiful. It was a wilderness of rocky 
 desolation ; as far as one could see there was no sign of 
 humanity, not a soul upon the solitary road, not a living 
 thing upon the desolate hills that rose on either side in 
 jagged points to the sky. Corona talked a little with the 
 head-keeper who rode beside her with a slack rein, letting 
 his small mountain horse pick its own way over the rough 
 path. He told her that few people ever passed that way. 
 It was the short road to Saracinesca. The princes some 
 times sent their carriage round by the longer way and 
 rode over the hills ; and in the vintage-time there was 
 some traffic, as many of the smaller peasants carried 
 grapes across the pass to the larger wine-presses, and 
 sold them outright. It was not a dangerous road, for 
 the very reason that it was so unfrequented. The 
 
806 SABACINESCA. 
 
 Duchessa explained that she only wanted to see the val 
 ley beyond from the summit of the pass, and would then 
 return. It was past mid-day when the party reached the 
 highest point, a depression between the crags just wide 
 enough to admit one loaded mule. The keeper said she 
 could see Saracinesca from the end of the narrow way, 
 before the descent began. She uttered an exclamation 
 of surprise as she reached the spot. 
 
 Scarcely a quarter of a mile to the right, at the ex 
 tremity of a broad hill-road, she saw the huge towers of 
 Saracinesca, grey and storm-beaten, rising out of a thick 
 wood. The whole intervening space and indeed the 
 whole deep valley as far as she could see was an un 
 broken forest of chestnut-trees. Here and there below 
 the castle the houses of the town showed their tiled 
 gables, but the mass of the buildings was hidden com 
 pletely from sight. Corona had had no idea that she 
 should find herself so near to the place, and she was 
 seized with a sudden fear lest Giovanni should appear 
 upon the long straight path that led into the trees. She 
 drew back a little among her followers. 
 
 " Are the princes there now ? " she asked of the head- 
 keeper. 
 
 He did not know ; but a moment later a peasant, riding 
 astride of a bag of corn upon his donkey's back, passed 
 along the straight road by the entrance to the bridle-path. 
 The keeper hailed him, and put the question. Seeing 
 Corona upon her mule, surrounded by armed men in liv 
 ery, the man halted, and pulled off his soft black-cloth 
 hat. 
 
 Both the princes were in Saracinesca, he said. The 
 young prince had been there ever since Easter. They 
 were busy building an aqueduct which was to supply the 
 whole town with water ; it was to pass above, up there 
 among the woods. The princes went almost every day 
 to visit the works. Her Excellency might, perhaps, find 
 them there now, or if not, they were at the castle. 
 
 But her Excellency had no intention of finding them. 
 
SAEACINESCA. 307 
 
 She gave the fellow a coin, and beat a somewhat hasty 
 retreat. Her followers were silent men, accustomed to 
 obey, and they followed her down the steep path without 
 even exchanging a word among themselves. Beneath the 
 shade of an overhanging rock she halted, and, dismount 
 ing from her mule, was served with the lunch that had 
 been brought. She ate little, and then sat thoughtfully 
 contemplating the bare stones, while the men at a little 
 distance hastily disposed of the remains of her meal. 
 She had experienced an extraordinary emotion on find 
 ing herself suddenly so near to Giovanni ; it was almost 
 as though she had seen him, and her heart beat fast, 
 while a dark flush rose from time to time to her cheek. 
 It would have been so natural that he should pass that 
 way, just as she was halting at the entrance to the bridle 
 path. How unspeakably dreadful it would have been to 
 be discovered thus spying out his dwelling-place when 
 she had so strictly forbidden him to attempt to see her ! 
 The blush burned upon her cheeks she had done a thing 
 so undignified, so ill befitting her magnificent superiority. 
 For a moment she was desperately ashamed. But for all 
 that, she could not repress the glad delight she felt at 
 knowing that he was there after all ; that, if he had kept 
 his word in avoiding her, he had, nevertheless, also ful 
 filled his intention of spending the summer in Sara- 
 cinesca. He had even been there since Easter, and the 
 story of his going to the North had been a mere inven 
 tion of the newspapers. She could not understand his 
 conduct, nor why he had gone to Paris a fact attested 
 by people who knew him. It had probably been for some 
 matter of business that excuse which, in a woman's 
 mind, explains almost any sudden journey a man may 
 undertake. But he was there in the castle now, and her 
 heart was satisfied. 
 
 The men packed the things in the basket, and Corona 
 was helped upon her mule. Slowly the party descended 
 the steep path that grew broader and more practicable as 
 they iieared the bottom j there the carriage awaited her, 
 
308 SAKACINESCA. 
 
 and soon she was bowling along the smooth road towards 
 home, leaving far behind her the mounted guards, the 
 peasants, and her slow-paced mule. The sun was low 
 when the carriage rolled under the archway of Astrar- 
 dente. Sister Gabrielle said Corona looked much the 
 better for her excursion, and she added that she must be 
 very strong to bear such fatigue so well. And the next 
 day and for many days the Sister noticed the change 
 in her hostess's manner, and promised herself that if the 
 Duchessa became uneasy again she would advise another 
 .day among the hill's, so wonderful was the effect of a 
 slight change from the ordinary routine of her life. 
 
 That night old Saracinesca and his son sat at dinner in 
 a wide hall of their castle. The faithful Pasquale served 
 them as solemnly as he was used to do in Rome. This 
 evening he spoke again. He had ventured no remark since 
 he had informed them of the Duca d'Astrardente's death. 
 
 " I beg your Excellencies' pardon," he began, adopting 
 his usual formula of apologetic address. 
 
 " Well, Pasquale, what is it ? " asked old Saracinesca. 
 
 " I did not know whether your Excellency was aware 
 that the Duchessa d'Astrardente had been here to-day." 
 
 " What ? " roared the Prince. 
 
 " You must be mad, Pasquale ? " exclaimed Giovanni in 
 a low voice. 
 
 " I beg your Excellencies' pardon if I am wrong, but 
 this is how I know. Gigi Secchi, the peasant from 
 Aquaviva in the lower forest, brought a bag of corn to the 
 mill to-day, and he told the miller, and the miller told 
 Ettore, and Ettore told Nino, and Nino told " 
 
 " What the devil did he tell him ? " interrupted old 
 Saracinesca. 
 
 "Nino told the cook's boy," continued Pasquale un 
 moved, " and the cook's boy told me, your Excellency, that 
 Gigi was passing along the road to Serveti coming here, 
 when he was stopped by a number of guardiani who ac 
 companied a beautiful dark lady in black, who rode upon 
 a mule, and the guardiani asked him if your Excellencies 
 
SABACINESCA. 309 
 
 were at Saracinesca ; and when he said you were, the lady 
 gave him a coin, and turned at once and rode down the 
 bridle-path towards Astrardente, and he said the guardiani 
 were those of the Astrardente, because he remembered to 
 have seen one of them, who has a scar over his left eye, 
 at the great fair at Genazzano last year. And that is how 
 I heard." 
 
 " That is a remarkable narrative, Pasquale," answered 
 the Prince, laughing loudly, " but it seems very credible. 
 Go and send for Gigi Secchi if he is still in the neigh 
 bourhood, and bring him here, and let us have the story 
 from his own lips." 
 
 When they were alone the two men looked at each 
 other for a moment, and then old Saracinesca laughed 
 again ; but Giovanni looked very grave, and his face was 
 pale. Presently his father became serious again. 
 
 " If this thing is true," he said, " I would advise you, 
 Giovanni, to pay a visit to the other side of the hills. It 
 is time." 
 
 Giovanni was silent for a moment. He was intensely 
 interested in the situation, but he could not tell his father 
 that he had promised Corona not to see her, and he had 
 not yet explained to himself her sudden appearance so 
 near Saracinesca. 
 
 " I think it would be better for you to go first," he 
 said to his father. "But I am not at all sure this story 
 is true." 
 
 " I ? Oh, I will go when you please," returned the old 
 man, with another laugh. He was always ready for any 
 thing active. 
 
 But Gigi Secchi could not be found. He had returned 
 to Aquaviva at once, and it was not easy to send a mes 
 sage. Two days later, however, Giovanni took the trouble 
 of going to the man's home. He was not altogether sur 
 prised when Gigi confirmed Pasquale's tale in every par 
 ticular. Corona had actually been at Saracinesca to find 
 out if Giovanni was there or not ; and on hearing that he 
 was at the castle, she had fled precipitately. Giovanni was 
 
 Vol. 1014 J 
 
310 SARACINESCA. 
 
 naturally grave and of a melancholy temper j but during 
 the last few months he had been more than usually taci 
 turn, occupying himself with dogged obstinacy in the con 
 struction of his aqueduct, visiting the works in the day 
 and spending hours in the evening over the plans. He 
 was waiting. He believed that Corona cared for him, 
 and he knew that he loved her, but for the present he 
 must wait patiently, both for the sake of his promise and 
 for the sake of a decent respect of her widowhood. In 
 order to wait he felt the necessity of constant occupation, 
 and to that end he had set himself resolutely to work 
 with his father, whose ideal dream was to make Sara- 
 cinesca the most complete and prosperous community in 
 that part of the mountains. 
 
 " I think if you would go over," he said, at the end of a 
 week, " it would be much better. I do not want to intrude 
 myself upon her at present, and you could easily find out 
 whether she would like to see me. After all, she may have 
 been merely making an excursion for her amusement, and 
 may have chanced upon us by accident. I have often 
 noticed how suddenly one comes in view of the castle 
 from that bridle-path." 
 
 " On the other hand," returned the Prince with a smile, 
 " any one would tell her that the path leads nowhere ex 
 cept to Saracinesca. But I will go to-morrow," he added. 
 " I will set your mind at rest in twenty-four hours." 
 
 "Thank you," said Giovanni. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 Old Saracinesca kept his word, and on the following 
 morning, eight days after Corona's excursion upon the 
 hills, he rode down to Astrardente, reaching the palace at 
 about mid-day. He sent in his card, and stood waiting 
 beneath the great gate, beating the dust from his boots 
 
SAKACINESCA. 311 
 
 with his heavy whip. His face looked darker than ever, 
 from constant exposure to the sun, and his close-cropped 
 hair and short square beard had turned even whiter than 
 before in the last six months, but his strong form was 
 erect, and his step firm and elastic. He was a remark 
 able old man j many a boy of twenty might have envied 
 his strength and energetic vitality. 
 
 Corona was at her mid-day breakfast with Sister Gabri- 
 elle, when the old Prince's card was brought. She started 
 at the sight of the name; and though upon the bit of 
 pasteboard she read plainly enough, " H Principe di /Sara- 
 cinesca," she hesitated, and asked the butler if it was 
 really the Prince. He said it was. 
 
 " Would you mind seeing him ? " she asked of Sister 
 Gabrielle. " He is an old gentleman," she added, in ex 
 planation " a near neighbour here in the mountains." 
 
 Sister Gabrielle had no objection. She even remarked 
 that it would do the Duchessa good to see some one. 
 
 " Ask the Prince to come in, and put another place at 
 the table," said Corona. 
 
 A moment later the old man entered, and Corona rose 
 to receive him. There was something refreshing in the 
 ring of his deep voice and the clank of his spurs as he 
 crossed the marble floor. 
 
 " Signora Duchessa, you are very good to receive me. 
 I did not know that this was your breakfast-hour. Ah ! " 
 he exclaimed, glancing at Sister Gabrielle, who had also 
 risen to her feet, " good day, my Sister." 
 
 "Sister Gabrielle," said Corona, as an introduction; 
 " she is good enough to be my companion in solitude." 
 
 To tell the truth, Corona felt uneasy ; but the sensa 
 tion was somehow rather pleasurable, although it crossed 
 her mind that the Prince might have heard of her excur 
 sion, and had possibly come to find out why she had been 
 so near to his place. She boldly faced the situation. 
 
 "I nearly came upon you the other day as unex 
 pectedly as you have visited me," she said with a smile. 
 " I had a fancy to look over into your valley, and when 
 
312 SAKACINESCA. 
 
 I reached the top of the hill I found I was almost in 
 your house." 
 
 '< I wish you had quite been there," returned the Prince. 
 "Of course I heard that you had been seen, and we 
 guessed you had stumbled upon us in some mountain 
 excursion. My son rode all the way to Aquaviva to see 
 the man who had spoken with you." 
 
 Saracinesca said this as though it were perfectly nat 
 ural, helping himself to the dish the servant offered him. 
 But when he looked up he saw that Corona blushed 
 beneath her dark skin. 
 
 " It is such a very sudden view at that point," she said, 
 nervously, " that I was startled." 
 
 " I wish you had preserved your equanimity to the ex 
 tent of going a little further. Saracinesca has rarely 
 been honoured with the visit of a Duchessa d'Astrardente. 
 But since you have explained your visit or the visit 
 which you did not make I ought to explain mine. You 
 must know, in the first place, that I am not here by 
 accident, but by intention, preconceived, well pondered, 
 and finally executed to my own complete satisfaction. I 
 came, not to get a glimpse of your valley nor a distant 
 view of your palace, but to see you, yourself. Your 
 hospitality in receiving me has therefore crowned and 
 complimented the desire I had of seeing you." 
 
 Corona laughed a little. 
 
 " That is a very pretty speech," she said. 
 
 " Which you would have lost if you had not received 
 me," he answered, gaily. " I have not done yet. I have 
 many pretty speeches for you. The sight of you induces 
 beauty in language as the sun in May makes the flowers 
 open." 
 
 " That is another," laughed Corona. " Do you spend 
 your days in studying the poets at Saracinesca ? Does 
 Don Giovanni study with you ? " 
 
 " Giovanni is a fact," returned the Prince ; " I am a 
 fable. Old men are always fables, for they represent, in 
 a harmless form, the follies of all mankind j their end is 
 
SAKACINESCA. 313 
 
 always in itself a moral, and young people can learn 
 much by studying them." 
 
 "Your comparison is witty," said Corona, who was 
 much amused at old Saracinesca's conversation; "but 
 I doubt whether you are so harmless as you repre 
 sent. You are certainly not foolish, and I am not sure 
 
 whether, as a study for the young " she hesitated, 
 
 and laughed. 
 
 " Whether extremely young persons would have the 
 wit to comprehend virtue by the concealment of it to 
 say, as that witty old Koman said, that the images of 
 Cassius and Brutus were more remarkable than those of 
 any one else, for the very reason that they were nowhere 
 to be seen-^-like my virtues ? Giovanni, for instance, is 
 the very reverse of me in that, though he has shown 
 such singularly bad taste in resembling my outward 
 man." 
 
 "One should never conceal virtues," said Sister Gabri- 
 elle, gently. " One should not hide one's light under a 
 basket, you know." 
 
 "My Sister," replied the old Prince, his black eyes 
 twinkling merrily, " if I had in my whole composition as 
 much light as would enable you to read half-a-dozen 
 words in your breviary, it should be at your disposal. I 
 would set it in the midst of Piazza Colonna, and call it 
 the most wonderful illumination on record. Unfortu 
 nately my light, like the lantern of a solitary miner, is 
 only perceptible to myself, and dimly at that." 
 
 " You must not depreciate yourself so very much," said 
 Corona. 
 
 " No ; that is true. You will either believe I am speak 
 ing the truth, or you will not. I do not know which would 
 be the worse fate. I will change the subject. My son 
 Giovanni, Duchessa, desires to be remembered in your 
 good graces." 
 
 " Thanks. How is he ? " 
 
 " He is well, but the temper of him is marvellously 
 melancholy. He is building an aqueduct, and so am I. 
 
314 SAKACINESCA. 
 
 The thing is accomplished by his working perpetually 
 while I smoke cigarettes and read novels." 
 
 " The division of labour is to your advantage, I should 
 say," remarked Corona. 
 
 " Immensely, I assure you. He promotes the natural 
 advantages of my lands, and I encourage the traffic in 
 tobacco and literature. He works from morning till 
 night, is his own engineer, contractor, overseer, and mas 
 ter-mason. He does everything, and does it well. If we 
 were less barbarous in our bachelor establishment I 
 would ask you to come and see us in earnest this time 
 and visit the work we are doing. It is well worth 
 while. Perhaps you would consent as it is. We will 
 vacate the castle for your benefit, and mount guard out 
 side the gates all night." 
 
 Again Corona blushed. She would have given any 
 thing to go, but she felt that it was impossible. 
 
 "I would like to go," she said. "If one could come 
 back the same day." 
 
 "You did before," remarked Saracinesca, bluntly. 
 
 " But it was late when I reached home, and I spent 
 no time at all there." 
 
 " I know you did not," laughed the old man. " You 
 gave Gigi Secchi some money, and then fled precipi 
 tately." 
 
 " Indeed I was afraid you would suddenly come upon 
 me, and I ran away," answered Corona, laughing in her 
 turn, as the dark blood rose to her olive cheeks. 
 
 " As my amiable ancestors did in the same place when 
 anybody passed with a full purse," suggested Saracinesca. 
 " But we have improved a little since then. We would 
 have asked you to breakfast. Will you come ? " 
 
 " I do not like to go alone ; I cannot, you see. Sister 
 Gabrielle could never ride up that hill on a mule." 
 
 " There is a road for carriages," said the Prince. " I 
 will propose something in the way of a compromise. I 
 will bring Giovanni down with me and our team of moun 
 tain horses. Those great beasts of yours cannot do this 
 
SARACINESCA. 315 
 
 kind of work. We will take you and Sister Gabrielle up 
 almost as fast as you could go by the bridle-path." 
 
 " And back on the same day ? " asked Corona. 
 
 " No ; on the next day." 
 
 " But I do not see where the compromise is," she replied. 
 
 "Sister Gabrielle is at once the compromise and the 
 cause that you will not be compromised. I beg her par 
 don " 
 
 Both ladies laughed. 
 
 "I will be very glad to go," said the Sister. "I do 
 not see that there is anything extraordinary in the 
 Prince's proposal." 
 
 "My Sister," returned Saracinesca, "you are on the 
 way to saintship ; you already enjoy the beatific vision ; 
 you see with a heavenly perspicuity." 
 
 " It is a charming proposition," said Corona ; " but in 
 that case you will have to come down the day before." 
 She was a little embarrassed. 
 
 "We will not invade the cloister," answered the Prince. 
 " Giovanni and I will spend the night in concocting pretty 
 speeches, and will appear armed with them at dawn 
 before your gates." 
 
 "There is room in Astrardente," replied Corona. 
 " You shall not lack hospitality for a night. When will 
 you come ? " 
 
 "To-morrow evening, if you please. A good thing 
 should be done quickly, in order not to delay doing it 
 again." 
 
 " Do you think I would go again ? " 
 
 Saracinesca fixed his black eyes on Corona's, and gazed 
 at her some seconds before he answered. 
 
 " Madam," he said at last, very gravely, " I trust you 
 will come again and stay longer." 
 
 " You are very good," returned Corona, quietly. " At 
 all events, I will go this first time." 
 
 " We will endeavour to show our gratitude by making 
 you comfortable," answered the Prince, resuming his 
 former tone. "You shall have a mass in the morning 
 
316 SARACINESCA. 
 
 and a litany in the evening. We are .godless fellows up 
 there, but we have a priest." 
 
 " You seem to associate our comfort entirely with re 
 ligious services/' laughed Corona. "But you are very 
 considerate." 
 
 " I see the most charming evidence of devotion at your 
 side," he replied ; " Sister Gabrielle is both the evidence 
 of your piety and is in herself an exposition of the bene 
 fits of religion. There shall be other attractions, however, 
 besides masses and litanies." 
 
 Breakfast being ended, Sister Gabrielle left the two to 
 gether. They went from the dining-room to the great 
 vaulted hall of the inner building. It was cool there, and 
 there were great old arm-chairs ranged along the walls. 
 The closed blinds admitted a soft green light from the 
 hot noonday without. Corona loved to walk upon the 
 cool marble floor ; she was a very strong and active 
 woman, delighting in mere motion not restless, but 
 almost incapable of weariness ; her movements not rapid, 
 but full of grace and ease. Saracinesca walked by her 
 side, smoking thoughtfully for some minutes. 
 
 " Duchessa," he said at last, glancing at her beautiful 
 face, "things are greatly changed since we met last. You 
 were angry with me then. I do not know whether you 
 were so justly, but you were very angry for a few moments. 
 I am going to return to the subject now j I trust you will 
 not be offended with me." 
 
 Corona trembled for a moment, and was silent. She 
 would have prevented him from going on, but before she 
 could find the words she sought he continued. 
 
 "Things are much changed, in some respects; in others, 
 not at all. It is but natural to suppose that in the course 
 of time you will think of the possibility of marrying again. 
 My son, Duchessa, loves you very truly. Pardon me, it is 
 no disrespect to you, now, that he should have told me so. 
 I am his father, and I have no one else to care for. He is 
 too honest a gentleman to have spoken of his affection for 
 you at an earlier period, but he has told me of it now." 
 
SARACINESCA. 317 
 
 Corona stood still in the midst of the great hall, and 
 faced the old Prince. She had grown pale while he was 
 speaking. Still she was silent. 
 
 "I have nothing more to say that is all," said Saracin- 
 esca, gazing earnestly into the depths of her eyes. "I 
 have nothing more to say." 
 
 " Do you then mean to repeat the warning you once 
 gave me?" asked Corona, growing whiter still. "Do 
 you mean to imply that there is danger to your son ? " 
 
 "There is danger great danger for him, unless you will 
 avert it." 
 
 " And how ? " asked Corona, in a low voice. 
 
 "Madam, by becoming his wife." 
 
 Corona started and turned away in great agitation. 
 Saracinesca stood still while she slowly walked a few steps 
 from him. She could not speak. 
 
 " I could say a great deal more, Duchessa," he said, as 
 she came back towards him. "I could say that the 
 marriage is not only fitting in every other way, but is also 
 advantageous from a worldly point of view. You are sole 
 mistress of Astrardente ; my son will before long be sole 
 master of Saracinesca. Our lands are near together that 
 is a great advantage, that question of fortune. Again, I 
 would observe that, with your magnificent position, you 
 could not condescend to accept a man of lower birth than 
 the highest in the country. There is none higher than the 
 Saracinesca pardon my arrogance, and among princes 
 there is no braver, truer gentleman than my son Giovanni. 
 I ask no pardon for saying that j I will maintain it against 
 all comers. I forego all questions of advantage, and base 
 my argument upon that. He is the best man I know, and 
 he loves you devotedly." 
 
 " Is he aware that you are here for this purpose ? " 
 asked Corona, suddenly. She spoke with a great ef 
 fort. 
 
 " No. He knows that I am here, and was glad that I 
 came. He desired me to ascertain if you would see him. 
 He would certainly not have thought of addressing you 
 
318 SAHACINESCA. 
 
 at present. I am an old man, and I feel that I must do 
 things quickly. That is my excuse." 
 
 Corona was again silent. She was too truthful to give 
 an evasive answer, and yet she hesitated to speak. The 
 position was an embarrassing one ; she was taken una 
 wares, and was terrified at the emotion she felt. It had 
 never entered her mind that the old Prince could appear 
 on his son's behalf, and she did not know how to meet 
 him. 
 
 "I have perhaps been too abrupt/' said Saracinesca. 
 " I love my son very dearly, and his happiness is more 
 to me than what remains of my own. If from the first 
 you regard my proposition as an impossible one, I would 
 spare him the pain of a humiliation, I fear I could not 
 save him from the rest, from a suffering that might drive 
 him mad. It is for this reason that I implore you, if 
 you are able, to give me some answer, not that I may 
 convey it to him, but in order that I may be guided in 
 future. He cannot forget you ; but he has not seen you 
 for six months. To see you again if he must leave you 
 for ever, would only inflict a fresh wound." He paused, 
 while Corona slowly walked by his side. 
 
 "I do not see why I should conceal the truth from 
 you," she said at last. " I cannot conceal it from myself. 
 I am not a child that I should be ashamed of it. There 
 is nothing wrong in it no reason why it should not be. 
 You are honest, too why should we try to deceive our 
 selves ? I trust to your honour to be silent, and I own 
 that I that I love your son." 
 
 Corona stood still and turned her face away, as the 
 burning blush rose to her cheeks. The answer she had 
 given was characteristic of her, straightforward and 
 honest. She was not ashamed of it, and yet the words 
 were so new, so strange in their sound, and so strong in 
 their meaning, that she blushed as she uttered them. 
 Saracinesca was greatly surprised, too, for he had ex 
 pected some evasive turn, some hint that he might bring 
 Giovanni. But his delight had no bounds. 
 
SARACINESCA. 319 
 
 " Duchessa," he said, " the happiest day I can remem 
 ber was when I brought home my wife to Saracinesca. 
 My proudest day will be that on which my son enters the 
 same gates with you by his side." 
 
 He took her hand and raised it to his lips, with a 
 courteous gesture. 
 
 " It will be long before that it must be very long," 
 answered Corona. 
 
 " It shall be when you please, Madam, provided it is at 
 last. Meanwhile we will come down to-morrow, and take 
 you to our tower. Do you understand now why I said 
 that I hoped you would come again and stay longer ? I 
 trust you have not changed your mind in regard to the 
 excursion." 
 
 " No. We will expect you to-morrow night. Kemem- 
 ber, I have been honest with you I trust to you to be 
 silent." 
 
 "You have my word. And now, with your permis 
 sion, I will return to Saracinesca. 'Believe me, the news 
 that you expect us will be good enough to tell Giovanni." 
 
 " You may greet him from me. But will you not rest 
 awhile before you ride back ? You must be tired." 
 
 " No fear of that ! " answered the Prince. " You have 
 put a new man into an old one. I shall never tire of 
 bearing the news of your greetings." 
 
 So the old man left her, and mounted his horse and 
 rode up the pass. But Corona remained for hours in the 
 vaulted hall, pacing up and down. It had come too soon 
 far too soon. And yet, how she had longed for it! 
 how she had wondered whether it would ever come at 
 all! 
 
 The situation was sufficiently strange, too. Giovanni 
 had once told her of his love, and she had silenced him. 
 He was to tell her again, and she was to accept what he 
 said. He was to ask her to marry him, and her answer 
 was a foregone conclusion. It seemed as though this 
 greatest event of her life were planned to the very smallest 
 details beforehand j as though she were to act a part which 
 
320 SARACINESCA. 
 
 she had studied, and which was yet no comedy because it 
 was the expression of her life's truth. The future had 
 been, as it were, prophesied and completely foretold to 
 her, and held no surprises ; and yet it was more sweet to 
 think of than all the past together. She wondered how 
 he would say it, what his words would be, how he would 
 look, whether he would again be as strangely violent as he 
 had been that night at the Palazzo Frangipani. She 
 wondered, most of all, how she would answer him. But 
 it would be long yet. There would be many meetings, 
 many happy days before that happiest day of all. 
 
 Sister Gabrielle saw a wonderful change in Corona's 
 face that afternoon when they drove up the valley together, 
 and she remarked what wonderful effect a little variety 
 had upon her companion's spirits she could not say upon 
 her health, for Corona seemed made of velvet and steel, so 
 smooth and dark, and yet so supple and strong. Corona 
 smiled brightly as she looked far up at the beetling crags 
 behind which Saracinesca was hidden. 
 
 " We shall be up there the day after to-morrow," she 
 said. " How strange it will seem ! " And leaning back, 
 her deep eyes flashed, and she laughed happily. 
 
 On the following evening, again, they drove along the 
 road that led up the valley. But they had not gone far 
 when they saw in the distance a cloud of dust, from which 
 in a few moments emerged a vehicle drawn by three strong 
 horses, and driven by Giovanni Saracinesca himself. His 
 father sat beside him in front, and a man in livery was 
 seated at the back, with a long rifle between his knees. 
 The vehicle was a kind of double cart, capable of holding 
 four persons, and two servants at the back. 
 
 In a moment the two carriages met and stopped side by 
 side. Giovanni sprang from his seat, throwing the reins 
 to his father, who stood up hat in hand, and bowed from 
 where he was. Corona held out her hand to Giovanni as 
 he stood bareheaded in the road beside her. One long 
 look told all the tale ; there could be no words there before 
 the Sister and the old Princej but their eyes told all the 
 
SARACINESCA. 321 
 
 pain of past separation, the joy of two loving hearts that 
 met at last without hindrance. 
 
 " Let your servant drive, and get in with us," said Co 
 rona, who could hardly speak in her excitement. Then she 
 started slightly, and smiled in her embarrassment. She 
 had continued to hold Giovanni's hand, unconsciously 
 leaving her fingers in his. 
 
 The Prince's groom climbed into the front seat, and old 
 Saracinesca got down and entered the landau. It was 
 a strangely silent meeting, long expected by the two who 
 so loved each other long looked for, but hardly realised 
 now that it had come. The Prince was the first to speak, 
 as usual. 
 
 " You expected to meet us, Duchessa ? " he said ; " we 
 expected to meet you. An expectation fulfilled is better 
 than a surprise. Everything at Saracinesca is prepared 
 for your reception. Don Angelo, our priest, has been 
 warned of your coming, and the boy who serves mass has 
 been washed. You may imagine that a great festivity is 
 expected. Giovanni has turned the castle inside out, and 
 had a room hung entirely with tapestries of my great- 
 grandmother's own working. He says that since the place 
 is so old, its antiquity should be carried into the smallest 
 details." 
 
 Corona laughed gaily she would have laughed at any 
 thing that day and the old Prince's tone was fresh and 
 sparkling and merry. He had relieved the first embar 
 rassment of the situation. 
 
 " There have been preparations at Astrardente for your 
 reception, too," answered the Duchessa. " There was a 
 diniculty of choice, as there are about a hundred vacant 
 rooms in the house. The butler proposed to give you a 
 suite of sixteen to pass the night in, but I selected an airy 
 little nook in one of the wings, where you need only go 
 through ten to get to your bedroom." 
 
 " There is nothing like space," said the Prince j " it en 
 larges the ideas." 
 
 "I cannot imagine what my father would do if his 
 
322 SARACINESCA. 
 
 ideas were extended," remarked Giovanni. " Everything 
 he imagines is colossal already. He talks about tun 
 nelling the mountains for my aqueduct, as though it were 
 no more trouble than to run a stick through a piece of 
 paper." 
 
 " Your aqueduct, indeed ! " exclaimed his father. " I 
 would like to know whose idea it was ? " 
 
 " I hear you are working like an engineer yourself, Don 
 Giovanni," said Corona. " I have a man at work at As- 
 trardente on some plans of roads. Perhaps some day you 
 could give us your advice." 
 
 Some day! How sweet the words sounded to Gio 
 vanni as he sat opposite the woman he loved, bowling 
 along through the rich vine lands in the cool of the sum 
 mer evening ! 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 The opportunity which Giovanni sought of being alone 
 with Corona was long in coming. Sister Gabrielle retired 
 immediately after dinner, and the Duchessa was left alone 
 with the two men. Old Saracinesca would gladly have 
 left his son with the hostess, but the thing was evidently 
 impossible. The manners of the time would not allow it, 
 and the result was that the Prince spent the evening in 
 making conversation for two rather indifferent listeners. 
 He tried to pick a friendly quarrel with Giovanni, but the 
 latter was too absent-minded even to be annoyed; he 
 tried to excite the Duchessa's interest, but she only 
 smiled gently, making a remark from time to time which 
 was conspicuous for its irrelevancy. But old Saracinesca 
 was in a good humour, and he bore up bravely until ten 
 o'clock, when Corona gave the signal for retiring. They 
 were to start very early in the morning, she said, and she 
 must have rest. 
 
 When the two men were alone, the Prince turned upon 
 
SAEACINESCA. 323 
 
 his son in semi-comic anger, and upbraided him with his 
 obstinate dulness during the evening. Giovanni only 
 smiled calmly, and shrugged his shoulders. There was 
 nothing more to be said. 
 
 But on the following morning, soon after six o'clock, 
 Giovanni had the supreme satisfaction of installing Corona 
 beside him upon the driving-seat of his cart, while his 
 father and Sister Gabrielle sat together behind him. The 
 sun was not yet above the hills, and the mountain air was 
 keen and fresh ; the stamping of the horses sounded crisp 
 and sharp, and their bells rang merrily as they shook their 
 sturdy necks and pricked their short ears to catch Gio 
 vanni's voice. 
 
 " Have you forgotten nothing, Duchessa ? " asked Gio 
 vanni, gathering the reins in his hand. 
 
 " Nothing, thanks. I have sent our things on mules 
 by the bridle-path." She smiled involuntarily as she re 
 called her adventure, and half turned her face away. 
 
 "Ah, yes the bridle-path," repeated Giovanni, as he 
 nodded to the groom to stand clear of the horses' heads. 
 In a moment they were briskly descending the winding 
 road through the town of Astrardente : the streets were 
 quiet and cool, for the peasants had all gone to their oc 
 cupations two hours before, and the children were not yet 
 turned loose. 
 
 " I never hoped to have the honour of myself driving 
 you to Saracinesca," said Giovanni. "It is a wild place 
 enough, in its way. You will be able to fancy yourself 
 in Switzerland." 
 
 " I would rather be in Italy," answered Corona. " I do 
 not care for the Alps. Our own mountains are as beau 
 tiful, and are not infested by tourists." 
 
 " You are a tourist to-day," said Giovanni. " And it 
 has pleased Heaven to make me your guide." 
 
 " I will listen to your explanations of the sights with 
 interest." 
 
 " It is a reversal of the situation, is it not ? When we 
 last met, it was you who guided me, and I humbly fol- 
 
324 SARACINESCA. 
 
 lowed your instructions. I did precisely as you told 
 me." 
 
 " Had I doubted that you would do as I asked, I would 
 not have spoken," answered Corona. 
 
 " There was one thing you advised me to do which I 
 have not even attempted." 
 
 "What was that?" 
 
 " You told me to forget you. I have spent six months 
 in constantly remembering you, and in looking forward 
 to this moment. Was I wrong ? " 
 
 " Of course," replied the Duchessa, with a little laugh. 
 " You should by this time have forgotten my existence. 
 They said you were gone to the North Pole why did 
 you change your mind ? " 
 
 "I followed my load-star. It led me from Home to 
 Saracinesca by the way of Paris. I should have remained 
 at Saracinesca but you also changed your mind. I began 
 to think you never would." 
 
 " How long do you think of staying up there ? " asked 
 Corona, to turn the conversation. 
 
 " Just so long as you stay at Astrardente," he answered. 
 " You will not forbid me to follow you to Eome ? " 
 
 " How can I prevent you if you choose to do it ? " 
 
 " By a word, as you did before." 
 
 " Do you think I would speak that word ? " she asked. 
 
 " I trust not. Why should you cause me needless pain 
 and suffering ? It it was right then, it is not right now. 
 Besides, you know me too well to think that I would annoy 
 you or thrust myself upon you. But I will do as you wish." 
 
 " Thank you," she said quietly. But she turned her 
 dark face toward him, and looked at him for a moment 
 very gently, almost lovingly. Where was the use of 
 trying to conceal what would not be hidden? Every 
 word he spoke told of his unchanged love, although the 
 phrases were short and simple. Why should she con 
 ceal what she felt ? She knew it was a foregone con 
 clusion. They loved each other, and she would certainly 
 marry him in the course of a year. The long pent up 
 
SAKACINESCA. 325 
 
 forces of her nature were beginning to assert themselves ; 
 she had conquered and fought down her natural being in 
 the effort to be all things to her old husband, to quench 
 her growing interest in Giovanni, to resist his declared 
 love, to drive him from her in her widowhood ; but now 
 it seemed as though all obstacles were suddenly removed. 
 She saw clearly how well she loved him, and it seemed 
 folly to try and conceal it. As she sat by his side she 
 was unboundedly happy, as she had never been in her 
 life before : the cool morning breeze fanned her cheeks, 
 and the music of his low voice soothed her, while the 
 delicious sense of rapid motion lent a thrill of pleasure 
 to every breath she drew. It was no matter what she 
 said; it was as though she spoke unconsciously. All 
 seemed predestined and foreplanned from all time, to 
 be acted out to the end. The past vanished slowly as a 
 retreating landscape. The weary traveller, exhausted 
 with the heat of the scorching Campagna, slowly climbs 
 the ascent towards Tivoli, the haven of cool waters, and 
 pausing now and then upon the path, looks back and 
 sees how the dreary waste of undulating hillocks be 
 neath him seems gradually to subside into a dim flat 
 plain, while, in the far distance, the mighty domes and 
 towers of Rome dwindle to an unreal mirage in the 
 warm haze of the western sky ; then advancing again, 
 he feels the breath of the mountains upon him, and hears 
 the fresh plunge of the cold cataract, till at last, when 
 his strength is almost failing, it is renewed within him, 
 and the dust and the heat of the day's journey are for 
 gotten in the fulness of refreshment. So Corona d'As- 
 trardente, wearied though not broken by the fatigues 
 and the troubles and the temptations of the past five 
 years, seemed suddenly to be taken up and borne swiftly 
 through the gardens of an earthly paradise, where there 
 was neither care nor temptation, and where, in the cool 
 air of a new life, the one voice she loved was ever mur 
 muring gentle things to her willing ear. 
 As the road began to ascend, sweeping round the base 
 
326 SAEAOINESCA. 
 
 of the mountain and upwards by even gradations upon its 
 southern flank, the sun rose higher in the heavens, and the 
 locusts broke into their summer song among the hedges 
 with that even, long-drawn, humming note, so sweet to 
 southern ears. But Corona did not feel the heat, nor 
 notice the dust upon the way ; she was in a new state, 
 wherein such things could not trouble her. The first 
 embarrassment of a renewed intimacy was fast disappear 
 ing, and she talked easily to Giovanni of many things, 
 reviewing past scenes and speaking of mutual acquaint 
 ances, turning the conversation when it concerned Gio 
 vanni or herself too directly, yet ever and again coming 
 back to that sweet ground which was no longer danger 
 ous now. At last, at a turn in the road, the grim towers 
 of ancient Saracinesca loomed in the distance, and the 
 carriage entered a vast forest of chestnut trees, shady 
 and cool after the sunny ascent. So they reached the 
 castle, and the sturdy horses sprang wildly forward up 
 the last incline till their hoofs struck noisily upon the 
 flagstones of the bridge, and with a rush and a plunge 
 they dashed under the black archway, and halted in the 
 broad court beyond. 
 
 Corona was surprised at the size of the old fortress. 
 It seemed an endless irregular mass of towers and build 
 ings, all of rough grey stone, surrounded by battlements 
 and ramparts, kept in perfect repair, but destitute of any 
 kind of ornament whatever. It might have been even 
 now a military stronghold, and it was evident that there 
 were traditions of precision and obedience within its 
 walls which would have done credit to any barracks. 
 The dominant temper of the master made itself felt at 
 every turn, and the servants moved quickly and silently 
 about their duties. There was something intensely at 
 tractive to Corona in the air of strength that pervaded 
 the place, and Giovanni had never seemed to her so 
 manly and so much in his element as under the grey 
 walls of his ancestral home. The place, too, was associ 
 ated in history with so many events, the two men, 
 
SARACINESCA. 327 
 
 Leone and Giovanni Saracinesca, stood there beside her, 
 where their ancestors of the same names had stood nearly 
 a thousand years before, their strong dark faces having 
 the same characteristics that for centuries had marked 
 their race, features familiar to Eomans by countless 
 statues and pictures, as the stones of Rome themselves 
 but for a detail of dress, it seemed to Corona as though 
 she had been suddenly transported back to the thirteenth 
 century. The idea fascinated her. The two men led her 
 up the broad stone staircase, and ushered her and Sister 
 Gabrielle into the apartments of state which had been 
 prepared for them. 
 
 " We have done our best," said the Prince, " but it is 
 long since we have entertained ladies at Saracinesca." 
 
 " It is magnificent ! " exclaimed Corona, as she entered 
 the ante-chamber. The walls were hung from end to end 
 with priceless tapestries, and the stone floor was covered 
 with long eastern carpets. Corona paused. 
 
 "You must show us all over the castle by-and-by," she 
 said. 
 
 " Giovanni will show you everything," answered the 
 Prince. " If it pleases you, we will breakfast in half-an- 
 hour." He turned away with his son, and left the two 
 ladies to refresh themselves before the mid-day meal. 
 
 Giovanni kept his word, and spared his guests no 
 detail of the vast stronghold, until at last poor Sister 
 Gabrielle could go no farther. Giovanni had anticipated 
 that she would be tired, and with the heartlessness of a 
 lover seeking his opportunity, he had secretly longed for 
 the moment when she should be obliged to stop. 
 
 "You have not yet seen the view from the great tower/' 
 he said. "It is superb, and this is the very best hour for 
 it. Are you tired, Duchessa ? " 
 
 " No I am never tired," answered Corona. 
 
 " Why not go with Giovanni ? " suggested the Prince. 
 " I will stay with Sister Gabrielle, who has nearly ex 
 hausted herself with seeing our sights." 
 
 Corona hesitated. The idea of being alone with Gio- 
 
328 SAHACINESCA. 
 
 vanni for a quarter of an hour was delightful, but some 
 how it did not seem altogether fitting for her to be 
 wandering over the castle with him. On the other hand, 
 to refuse would seem almost an affectation : she was not 
 in Borne, where her every movement was a subject for 
 remark; moreover, she was not only a married woman, 
 but a widow, and she had known Giovanni for years 
 it would be ridiculous to refuse. 
 
 "Very well," said she. " Let us see the view before it 
 is too late." 
 
 Sister G-abrielle and old Saracinesca sat down on a 
 stone seat upon the rampart to wait, and the Duchessa 
 disappeared with Giovanni through the low door that led 
 into the great tower. 
 
 "What a wonderful woman you are ! " exclaimed Gio 
 vanni, as they reached the top of the winding stair, which 
 was indeed broader than the staircase of many great 
 houses in Rome. "You seem to be never tired." 
 
 "No I am very strong," answered Corona, with a 
 smile. She was not even out of breath. "What a 
 wonderful view ! " she exclaimed, as they emerged upon 
 the stone platform at the top of the tower. Giovanni 
 was silent for a moment. The two stood together and 
 looked far out at the purple mountains to eastward that 
 caught the last rays of the sun high up above the shad 
 ows of the valley ; and then looking down, they saw the 
 Prince and the Sister a hundred feet below them upon 
 the rampart. 
 
 Both were thinking of the same thing : three days ago, 
 their meeting had seemed infinitely far off, a thing 
 dreamed of and hoped for and now they were standing 
 alone upon the topmost turret of Giovanni's house, famil 
 iar with each other by a long day's conversation, feeling 
 as though they had never been parted, feeling also that 
 most certainly they would not be parted again. 
 
 " It is very strange," said Giovanni, " how things hap 
 pen in this world, and how little we ever know of what 
 is before us. Last week I wondered whether I should 
 
SAKACINESCA. 329 
 
 ever see you now I cannot imagine not seeing you. Is 
 it not strange ? " 
 
 " Yes," answered Corona, in a low voice. 
 
 " That, yesterday, we should have seemed parted by an 
 
 insurmountable barrier, and that to-day " he stopped. 
 
 " Oh, if to-day could only last for ever ! " he exclaimed, 
 suddenly. 
 
 Corona gazed out upon the purple hills in silence, but 
 her face caught some of the radiance of the distant glow, 
 and her dark eyes had strange lights in them. She could 
 not have prevented him from speaking ; she had loosed 
 the bonds that had held her life so long ; the anchor was 
 up, and the breath of love fanned the sails, and gently 
 bore the craft in which she trusted out to seaward over 
 the fair water. In seeing him she had resigned herself 
 to him, and she could not again get the mastery if she 
 would. It had come too soon, but it was sweet. 
 
 "And why not ?" he said, very softly. "Why should 
 it not remain so for ever till our last breath? Why 
 will you not let it last ? " 
 
 Still she was silent ; but the tears gathered slowly in 
 her eyes, and welled over and lay upon her velvet cheek 
 like dewdrops on the leaves of a soft dark tulip. Gio 
 vanni saw them, and knew that they were the jewels 
 which crowned his life. 
 
 " You will," he said, his broad brown hand gently cov 
 ering her small fingers and taking them in his. "You 
 will I know that you will." 
 
 She said nothing, and though she at first made a slight 
 movement not of resistance, but of timid reluctance, 
 utterly unlike herself she suffered him to hold her 
 hand. He drew closer to her, himself more diffident in 
 the moment of success than he had ever been when he 
 anticipated failure ; she was so unlike any woman he had 
 ever known before. Very gently he put his arm about 
 her, and drew her to him. 
 
 " My beloved at last," he whispered, as her head sank 
 upon his shoulder. 
 
330 SAKACINESCA. 
 
 Then with a sudden movement she sprang to her 
 height, and for one instant gazed upon him. Her whole 
 being was transfigured in the might of her passion : her 
 dark face was luminously pale, her lips almost white, 
 and from her eyes there seemed to flash a blazing fire. 
 For one instant she gazed upon him, and then her arms 
 went round his neck, and she clasped him fiercely to her 
 breast. 
 
 " Ah, Giovanni," she cried, passionately, " you do not 
 know what love means ! " 
 
 A moment later her arms dropped from him ; she 
 turned and buried her face in her hands, leaning against 
 the high stone parapet of the tower. She was not weep 
 ing, but her face was white, and her bosom heaved with 
 quick and strong-drawn breath. 
 
 Giovanni went to her side and took her strongly in his 
 right arm, and again her head rested upon his shoulder. 
 
 " It is too soon too soon," she murmured. " But how 
 can I help it ? I love you so that there is no counting of 
 time. It seems years since we met last night, and I 
 thought it would be years before I told you. Oh, Gio 
 vanni, I am so happy ! Is it possible that you love me 
 as I love you ? " 
 
 It is a marvellous thing to see how soon two people who 
 love each other learn the gentle confidence that only love 
 can bring. A few moments later Giovanni and Corona 
 were slowly pacing the platform, and his arm was about 
 her waist and her hand in his. 
 
 "Do you know," she was saying, "I used to wonder 
 whether you would keep your word, and never try to see 
 me. The days were so long at Astrardente." 
 
 " Not half so long as at Saracinesca," he answered. " I 
 was going to call my aqueduct the Bridge of Sighs ; I will 
 christen it now the Spring of Love." 
 
 " I must go and see it to-morrow," said she. 
 
 " Or the next day " 
 
 " The next day ! " she exclaimed, with a happy laugh. 
 "Do you think I am going to stay " 
 
SAKACINESCA. 331 
 
 " For ever," interrupted Giovanni. "We have a priest 
 here, you know, he can marry us to-morrow, and then 
 you need never go away." 
 
 Corona's face grew grave. 
 
 " We must not talk of that yet," she said, gently, " even 
 in jest." 
 
 " No ; you are right. Forgive me," he answered ; " I 
 forget many things it seems to me I have forgotten 
 everything, except that I love you." 
 
 " Giovanni," she lingered on the name, " Giovanni, 
 we must tell your father at once." 
 
 " Are you willing I should ? " he asked, eagerly. 
 
 " Of course he ought to know ; and Sister Gabrielle 
 too. But no one else must be told. There must be no 
 talk of this in Rome until until next year." 
 
 "We will stay in the country until then, shall we 
 not?" asked Giovanni, anxiously. "It seems to me so 
 much better. We can meet here, and nobody will talk. 
 I will go and live in the town at Astrardente, and play 
 the engineer, and build your roads for you." 
 
 " I hardly know," said Corona, with a doubtful smile. 
 " You could not do that. But you may come and spend 
 the day once in a week, perhaps." 
 
 " We will arrange all that," answered Giovanni, laugh 
 ing. " If you think I can exist by only seeing you once 
 a week well, you do not know me." 
 
 "We shall see," returned Corona, laughing too. "By 
 the bye, how long have we been here ? " 
 
 "I do not know," said Giovanni; "but the view is 
 magnificent, is it not ? " 
 
 "Enchanting," she replied, looking into his eyes. 
 Then suddenly the blood mounted to her cheeks. " Oh, 
 Giovanni," she said, " how could I do it ? " 
 
 " I should have died if you had not," he answered, and 
 clasped her once more in his arms. 
 
 " Come," said she, " let us be going down. It is grow 
 ing late." 
 
 When they reached the foot of the tower, they found 
 
332 SARACESTESCA. 
 
 the Prince walking the rampart alone. Sister Gabrielle 
 was afraid of the evening air, and had retired into the 
 house. Old Saracinesca faced them suddenly. He looked 
 like an old lion, his thick white hair and beard bristling 
 about his dark features. 
 
 "My father," said Giovanni, coming forward, "the 
 Duchessa d'Astrardente has consented to be my wife. I 
 crave your blessing." 
 
 The old man started, and then stood stock-still. His 
 son had fairly taken his breath away, for he had not ex 
 pected the news for three or four months to come. Then 
 he advanced and took Corona's hand, and kissed it. 
 
 " Madam," he said, " you have done my son an honour 
 which extends to myself and to every Saracinesca, dead, 
 living, and to come." 
 
 Then he laid Corona's hand in Giovanni's, and held 
 his own upon them both. 
 
 "God bless you," he said, solemnly; and as Corona 
 bent her proud head, he touched her forehead with his 
 lips. Then he embraced Giovanni, and his joy broke out 
 in wild enthusiasm. 
 
 "Ha, my children," he cried, "there has not been such 
 a couple as you are for generations there has not been 
 such good news told in these old walls since they have 
 stood here. We will illuminate the castle, the whole 
 town, in your honour we will ring the bells and have a 
 Te Deum sung we will have such a festival as was never 
 seen before we will go to Kome to-morrow and celebrate 
 the espousal we will " 
 
 " Softly, padre mio" interrupted Giovanni. " No one 
 must know as yet. You must consider " 
 
 " Consider what ? consider the marriage ? Of course we 
 will consider it, as soon as you please. You shall have 
 such a wedding as was never heard of you shall be mar 
 ried by the Cardinal Archpriest of Saint Peter's, by the 
 Holy Father himself. The whole country shall ring with 
 it." 
 
 It was with difficulty Giovanni succeeded in calming his 
 
SABACINESCA. 
 
 father's excitement, and in recalling to his mind the cir 
 cumstances which made it necessary to conceal the engage 
 ment for the present. But at last the old man reluctantly 
 consented, and returned to a quieter humour. For some 
 time the three continued to pace the stone rampart. 
 
 " This is a case of arrant cruelty to a man of my tem 
 per," said the Prince. "To be expected to behave like an 
 ordinary creature, with grins and smiles and decent paces, 
 when I have just heard what I have longed to hear for 
 years. But I will revenge myself by making a noise about 
 it by-and-by. I will concoct schemes for your wedding, 
 and dream of nothing but illuminations and decorations. 
 You shall be Prince of Sant' Ilario, Giovanni, as I was 
 before my father died ; and I will give you that estate 
 outright, and the palace in the Corso to live in." 
 
 " Perhaps we might live in my palace," suggested Co 
 rona. It seemed strange to her to be discussing her own 
 marriage, but it was necessary to humour the old Prince. 
 
 "Of course," he said. "I forgot all about it. You 
 have places enough to live in. One forgets that you will 
 in the end be the richest couple in Italy. Ha ! " he cried, 
 in sudden enthusiasm, " the Saracinesca are not dead yet ! 
 They are greater than ever and our lands here so near 
 together, too. We will build a new road to Astrardente, 
 and when you are married you shall be the first to drive 
 over it from Astrardente here. We will do all kinds of 
 things we will tunnel the mountain ! " 
 
 " I am sure you will do that in the end," said Giovanni, 
 laughing. 
 
 " Well let us go to dinner," answered his father. " It 
 has grown quite dark since we have been talking, and we 
 shall be falling over the edge if we are not careful." 
 
 "I will go and tell Sister Gabrielle before dinner," said 
 Corona to Giovanni. 
 
 So they left her at the door of her apartment, and she 
 went in. She found the Sister in an inner room, with a 
 book of devotions in her hand. 
 
 " Pray for me. my Sister." she said, quietly. " I have 
 Yol. 1015 
 
334 SARACINBSCA. 
 
 resolved upon a great step. I am going to be married 
 again. 77 
 
 Sister G-abrielle looked up, and a quiet smile stole over 
 her thin face. 
 
 " It is soon, my friend," she said. " It is soon to think 
 of that. But perhaps you are right is it the young 
 Prince ? " 
 
 " Yes/ 7 answered Corona, and sank into a deep tapestried 
 chair. " It is soon I know well. But it has been long 
 I have struggled hard I love him very much so much, 
 you do not know ! 77 
 
 The Sister sighed faintly, and came and took her 
 hand. 
 
 " It is right that you should marry, 77 she said, gently. 
 " You are too young, too famously beautiful, too richly 
 endowed, to lead the life you have led at Astrardente 
 these many months. 77 
 
 " It is not that, 77 said Corona, an expression of strange 
 beauty illuminating her lovely face. "Not that I am 
 young, beautiful as you say, if it is so, or endowed with 
 riches those reasons are nothing. It is this that tells 
 me,' 7 she whispered, pressing her left hand to her heart. 
 " When one loves as I love, it is right. 77 
 
 "Indeed it is, 77 assented the good Sister. "And I 
 think you have chosen wisely. When will you be 
 married? 77 
 
 " Hardly before next summer I can hardly think con 
 nectedly yet it has been very sudden. I knew I should 
 marry him in the end, but I never thought I could con 
 sent so soon. Oh, Sister Gabrielle, you are so good 
 were you never in love ? 77 
 
 The Sister was silent, and looked away. 
 
 " Ko of course you cannot tell me, 77 continued Corona; 
 "but it is such a wonderful thing. It makes days seem 
 like hundreds of years, or makes them pass in a flash of 
 light, in a second. It oversets every idea of time, and 
 plays with one 7 s resolutions as the wind with a feather. 
 If once it gets the mastery of one, it crowds a lifetime of 
 
SARACINESCA. 335 
 
 pain and pleasure into one day ; it never leaves one for a 
 moment. I cannot explain love it is a wonderful thing." 
 
 "My dear friend," said the Sister, "the explanation 
 of love is life." 
 
 " But the end of it is not death. It cannot be," con 
 tinued Corona, earnestly. " It must last for ever and ever. 
 It must grow better and purer and stronger, until it is 
 perfect in heaven at last : but where is the use of trying 
 to express such things ? " 
 
 "I think it is enough to feel them," said Sister 
 Gabrielle. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 The summer season ripened into autumn, and autumn 
 again turned to winter, and Eome was once more full. The 
 talk of society turned frequently upon the probability of 
 the match between the Duchessa d'Astrardente and Gio 
 vanni Saracinesca ; and when at last, three weeks before 
 Lent, the engagement was made known, there was a gen 
 eral murmur of approbation. It seemed as though the 
 momentous question of Corona's life, which had for years 
 agitated the gossips, were at last to be settled : every one 
 had been accustomed to regard her marriage with old 
 Astrardente as a temporary affair, seeing that he certainly 
 could not live long, and speculation in regard to her 
 future had been nearly as common during his lifetime as 
 it was after his death. One of the duties most congenial 
 to society, and one which it never fails to perform con 
 scientiously, is that judicial astrology, whereby it fore 
 casts the issue of its neighbour's doings. Everybody's 
 social horoscope must be cast by the circle of five-o'clock- 
 tea-drinking astro-sociologists, and, generally speaking, 
 .their predictions are not far short of the truth, for 
 society knoweth its own bitterness, and is uncommonly 
 quick in the diagnosis of its own state of health. 
 
336 SARACINESCA. 
 
 When it was announced that Corona was to marry 
 Giovanni after Easter, society looked and saw that the 
 arrangement was good. There was not one dissenting 
 voice heard in the universal applause. Corona had be 
 haved with exemplary decency during the year of her 
 mourning had lived a life of religious retirement upon 
 her estates in the sole company of a Sister of Charity, had 
 given no cause for scandal in any way. Everybody aspired 
 to like her that is to say, to be noticed by her ; but with 
 one exception, she had caused no jealousy nor ill-feeling 
 by her indifference, for no one had ever heard her say an 
 unkind word concerning anybody she knew. Donna Tullia 
 had her own reasons for hating Corona, and perhaps the 
 world suspected them; but people did not connect the 
 noisy Donna Tullia, full of animal spirits and gay silly 
 talk, with the idea of serious hatred, much less with the 
 execution of any scheme of revenge. 
 
 Indeed Madame Mayer had not spent the summer and 
 autumn in nursing her wrath against Corona. She had 
 travelled with the old Countess, her companion, and several 
 times Ugo del Ferice had appeared suddenly at the water 
 ing-places which she had selected for her temporary resi 
 dence. From time to time he gave her news of mutual 
 friends, which she repaid conscientiously with interesting 
 accounts of the latest scandals. They were a congenial 
 pair, and Ugo felt that by his constant attention to her 
 wishes, and by her never- varying willingness to accept his 
 service, he had obtained a hold upon her intimacy which, 
 in the ensuing winter, would give him a decided advantage 
 over all competitors in the field. She believed that she 
 might have married half-a-dozen times, and that with her 
 fortune she could easily have made a very brilliant match ; 
 she even thought that she could have married Valdarno, 
 who was very good-natured : but her attachment to Gio 
 vanni, and the expectations she had so long entertained in 
 regard to him, had prevented her from showing any marked 
 preference for others ; and while she was hesitating, Del 
 Ferice, by his superior skill, had succeeded in making him- 
 
SAEACIKESCA. 337 
 
 self indispensable to her a success the more remarkable 
 that, in spite of his gifts and the curious popularity he 
 enjoyed, he was by far the least desirable man of her 
 acquaintance from the matrimonial point of view. 
 
 But when Donna Tullia again met Giovanni in the 
 world, the remembrance of her wrongs revived her anger 
 against him, and the news of his engagement to the As- 
 trardente brought matters to a climax. In the excite 
 ment of the moment, both her jealousy and her anger 
 were illuminated by the light of a righteous wrath. She 
 knew, or thought she knew, that Don Giovanni was al 
 ready married. She had no proof that the peasant wife 
 mentioned in the certificate was alive, but there was 
 nothing either to show that she was dead. Even in the 
 latter case it was a scandalous thing that he should marry 
 again without informing Corona of the circumstances of 
 his past life, and Donna Tullia felt an inner conviction 
 that he had told the Duchessa nothing of the matter. 
 The latter was such a proud woman, that she would be 
 horrified at the idea of uniting herself to a man who had 
 been the husband of a peasant. 
 
 Madame Mayer remembered her solemn promise to Del 
 Ferice, and feared to act without his consent. An hour 
 after she had heard the news of the engagement, she sent 
 for him to come to her immediately. To her astonish 
 ment and dismay, her servant brought back word that he 
 had suddenly gone to Naples upon urgent business. This 
 news made her pause ; but while the messenger had been 
 gone to Del Ferice's house, Donna Tullia had been antic 
 ipating and going over in her mind the scene which would 
 ensue when she told Corona the secret. Donna Tullia 
 was a very sanguine woman, and the idea of at last being 
 revenged for all the slights she had received worked sud 
 denly upon her brain, so that as she paced her drawing- 
 room in expectation of the arrival of Del Fence, she en 
 tirely acted out in her imagination the circumstances of 
 the approaching crisis, the blood beat hotly in her tem 
 ples, and she lost all sense of prudence in the delicious 
 
338 SARACINESCA. 
 
 anticipation of violent words. Del Ferice had cruelly 
 calculated upon her temperament, and he had hoped that 
 in the excitement of the moment she would lose her head, 
 and irrevocably commit herself to him by the betrayal of 
 the secret. This was precisely what occurred. On being 
 told that he was out of town, she could no longer contain 
 herself, and with a sudden determination to risk anything 
 blindly, rather than to forego the pleasure and the excite 
 ment she had been meditating, she ordered her carriage 
 and drove to the Palazzo Astrardente. 
 
 Corona was surprised at the unexpected visit. She 
 was herself on the point of going out, and was standing 
 in her boudoir, drawing on her black gloves before the 
 fire, while her furs lay upon a chair at her side. She 
 wondered why Donna Tullia called, and it was in part 
 her curiosity which induced her to receive her visit. 
 Donna Tullia, armed to the teeth with the terrible news 
 she was about to disclose, entered the room quickly, and 
 remained standing before the Duchessa with a semi-tragic 
 air that astonished Corona. 
 
 " How do you do, Donna Tullia ? " said the latter, put 
 ting out her hand. 
 
 " I have come to speak to you upon a very serious mat 
 ter," answered her visitor, without noticing the greeting. 
 
 Corona stared at her for a moment, but not being 
 easily disconcerted, she quietly motioned to Donna 
 Tullia to sit down, and installed herself in a chair oppo 
 site to her. 
 
 " I have just heard the news that you are to marry Don 
 Giovanni Saracinesca," said Madame Mayer. " You will 
 pardon me the interest I take in you ; but is it true ? " 
 
 " It is quite true," answered Corona. 
 
 " It is in connection with your marriage that I wish 
 to speak, Duchessa. I implore you to reconsider your 
 decision." 
 
 " And why, if you please ? " asked Corona, raising her 
 black eyebrows, and fixing her haughty gaze upon her 
 visitor. 
 
SARACINESCA. 339 
 
 "I could tell you I would rather not," answered 
 Donna Tullia, unabashed, for her blood was up. "I 
 could tell you but I beseech you not to ask me. Only 
 consider the matter again, I beg you. It is very serious. 
 Nothing but the great interest I feel in you, and my con 
 viction " 
 
 " Donna Tullia, your conduct is so extraordinary," in 
 terrupted Corona, looking at her curiously, " that I am 
 tempted to believe you are mad. I must beg you to ex 
 plain what you mean by your words." 
 
 "Ah, no," answered Madame Mayer. "You do me 
 injustice. I am not mad, but I would save you from the 
 most horrible danger." 
 
 " Again I say, what do you mean ? I will not be trifled 
 with in this way," said the Duchessa, who would have 
 been more angry if she had been less astonished, but 
 whose temper was rapidly rising. 
 
 " I am not trifling with you," returned Donna Tullia. 
 " I am imploring you to think before you act, before you 
 marry Don Giovanni. You cannot think that I would 
 venture to intrude upon you without the strongest rea 
 sons. I am in earnest." 
 
 " Then, in heaven's name, speak out ! " cried Corona, 
 losing all patience. " I presume that if this is a warn 
 ing, you have some grounds, you have some accusation 
 to make against Don Giovanni. Have the goodness to 
 state what you have to say, and be brief." 
 
 " I will," said Donna Tullia, and she paused a moment, 
 her face growing red with excitement, and her blue eyes 
 sparkling disagreeably. "You cannot marry Don Gio 
 vanni," she said at length, "because there is an insur 
 mountable impediment in the way." 
 
 " What is it ? " asked Corona, controlling her anger. 
 
 " He is already married ! " hissed Donna Tullia. 
 
 Corona turned a little pale, and started back. But in 
 an instant her colour returned, and she broke into a low 
 laugh. 
 
 " You are certainly insane," she said, eyeing Madame 
 
340 SAKACINESCA. 
 
 Mayer suspiciously. It was not an easy matter to shake 
 her faith in the man she loved. Donna Tullia was disap 
 pointed at the effect she had produced. She was a clever 
 woman in her way, but she did not understand how to 
 make the best of the situation. She saw that she was 
 simply an object of curiosity, and that Corona seriously 
 believed her mind deranged. She was frightened, and, 
 in order to help herself, she plunged deeper. 
 
 "You may call me mad, if you please," she replied, 
 angrily. " I tell you it is true. Don Giovanni was mar 
 ried on the 19th of June 1863, at Aquila, in the Abruzzi, 
 to a woman called Felice Baldi whoever she may have 
 been. The register is extant, and the duplicate of the 
 marriage certificate. I have seen the copies attested by 
 a notary. I tell you it is true," she continued, her voice 
 rising to a harsh treble ; "you are engaged to marry a man 
 who has a wife a peasant woman somewhere in the 
 mountains." 
 
 Corona rose from her seat and put out her hand to ring 
 the bell. She was pale, but not excited. She believed 
 Donna Tullia to be insane, perhaps dangerous, and she 
 calmly proceeded to protect herself by calling for assist 
 ance. 
 
 " Either you are mad, or you mean what you say," she 
 said, keeping her eyes upon the angry woman before her. 
 " You will not leave this house except in charge of my 
 physician, if you are mad ; and if you mean what you say, 
 you shall not go until you have repeated your words to 
 Don Giovanni Saracinesca himself, no, do not start or 
 try to escape it is of no use. I am very sudden and 
 violent beware ! " 
 
 Donna Tullia bit her red lip. She was beginning to 
 realise that she had got herself into trouble, and that it 
 might be hard to get out of it. But she felt herself 
 strong, and she wished she had with her those proofs 
 which would make her case good. She was so sanguine 
 by nature that she was willing to carry the fight to the 
 end, and to take her chance for the result. 
 
SARACINESCA. 341 
 
 " You may send for Don Giovanni if you please," she 
 said. " I have spoken the truth if he denies it I can 
 prove it. If I were you I would spare him the humilia 
 tion " 
 
 A servant entered the room in answer to the bell, and 
 Corona interrupted Donna Tullia's speech by giving the 
 man her orders. 
 
 " Go at once to the Palazzo Saracinesca, and beg Don 
 Giovanni to come here instantly with his father the Prince. 
 Take the carriage it is waiting below." 
 
 The man disappeared, and Corona quietly resumed her 
 seat. Donna Tullia was silent for a few moments, at 
 tempting to control her anger in an assumption of dignity ; 
 but soon she broke out afresh, being rendered very nervous 
 and uncomfortable by the Duchessa's calm manner and 
 apparent indifference to consequences. 
 
 " I cannot see why you should expose yourself to such 
 a scene," said Madame Mayer presently. "I honestly 
 wished to save you from a terrible danger. It seems to 
 me it would be quite sufficient if I proved the fact to you 
 beyond dispute. I should think that instead of being 
 angry, you would show some gratitude." 
 
 " I am not angry," answered Corona, quietly. " I am 
 merely giving you an immediate opportunity of proving 
 your assertion and your sanity." 
 
 " My sanity ! " exclaimed Donna Tullia, angrily. " Do 
 you seriously believe " 
 
 "Nothing that you say," said Corona, completing the 
 sentence. 
 
 Unable to bear the situation, Madame Mayer rose sud 
 denly from her seat, and began to pace the small room 
 with short, angry steps. 
 
 " You shall see," she said, fiercely " you shall see that 
 it is all true. You shall see this man's face when I accuse 
 him you shall see him humiliated, overthrown, exposed 
 in his villany the wretch ! You shall see how " 
 
 Corona's strong voice interrupted her enemy's invective 
 in ringing tones. 
 
342 SABACINESCA. 
 
 "Be silent !" she cried. "In twenty minutes he will 
 be here. But if you say one word against him before he 
 comes, I will lock you into this room and leave you. I 
 certainly will not hear you." 
 
 Donna Tullia reflected that the Duchessa was in her 
 own house, and moreover that she was not a woman to be 
 trifled with. She threw herself into a chair, and taking 
 up a book that lay upon the table, she pretended to read. 
 
 Corona remained seated by the fireplace, glancing at 
 her from time to time. She was strangely inclined to 
 laugh at the whole situation, which seemed to her absurd 
 in the extreme for it never crossed her mind to believe 
 that there was a word of truth in the accusation against 
 Giovanni. Nevertheless she was puzzled to account for 
 Donna Tullia's assurance, and especially for her readiness 
 to face the man she so calumniated. A quarter of an hour 
 elapsed in this armed silence the two women glancing 
 at each other from time to time, until the distant sound 
 of wheels rolling under the great gate announced that 
 the messenger had returned from the Palazzo Saracinesca, 
 probably conveying Don Giovanni and his father. 
 
 " Then you have made up your mind to the humiliation 
 of the man you love ? " asked Donna Tullia, looking up 
 from her book with a sneer on her face. 
 
 Corona vouchsafed no answer, but her eyes turned to 
 wards the door in expectation. Presently there were 
 steps heard without. The servant entered, and an 
 nounced Prince Saracinesca and Don Giovanni. Corona 
 rose. The old man came in first, followed by his son. 
 
 " An unexpected pleasure," he said, gaily. " Such good 
 luck ! We were both at home. Ah, Donna Tullia," he 
 cried, seeing Madame Mayer, " how are you ? " Then 
 seeing her face, he added, suddenly, "Is anything the 
 matter ? " 
 
 Meanwhile Giovanni had entered, and stood by Corona's 
 side near the fireplace. He saw at once that something 
 was wrong, and he looked anxiously from the Duchessa to 
 Donna Tullia. Corona spoke at once. 
 
SARACIKESCA. 343 
 
 " Donna Tullia," she said, quietly, " I have the honour 
 to offer you an opportunity of explaining yourself." 
 
 Madame Mayer remained seated by the table, her face 
 red with anger. She leaned back in her seat, and half 
 closing her eyes with a disagreeable look of contempt, she 
 addressed Giovanni. 
 
 " I am sorry to cause you such profound humiliation," 
 she began, " but in the interest of the Duchessa d' Astrar- 
 dente I feel bound to speak. Don Giovanni, do you re 
 member Aquila ? " 
 
 "Certainly," he replied, coolly "I have often been 
 there. What of it ? " 
 
 Old Saracinesca stared from one to the other. 
 
 " What is this comedy ? " he asked of Corona. But she 
 nodded to him to be silent. 
 
 "Then you doubtless remember Felice Baldi poor 
 Felice Baldi," continued Donna Tullia, still gazing scorn 
 fully up at Giovanni from where she sat. 
 
 "I never heard the name, that I can remember," 
 answered Giovanni, as though trying to recall some 
 memory of the past. He could not imagine what she 
 was leading to, but he was willing to answer her ques 
 tions. 
 
 " You do not remember that you were married to her 
 at Aquila on the 19th of June ? " 
 
 " I married ? " cried Giovanni, in blank astonishment. 
 
 " Signora Duchessa," said the Prince, bending his heavy 
 brows, " what is the meaning of all this ? " 
 
 " I will tell you the meaning of it," said Donna Tullia, 
 in low hissing tones, and rising suddenly to her feet she 
 assumed a somewhat theatrical attitude as she pointed to 
 Giovanni. " I will tell what it means. It means that 
 Don Giovanni Saracinesca was married in the church of 
 San Bernardino, at Aquila, on the 19th of June 1863, to 
 the woman Felice Baldi who is his lawful wife to-day, 
 and for aught we know the mother of his children, while 
 he is here in Kome attempting to marry the Duchessa 
 d'Astrardente can he deny it ? Can he deny that his 
 
344 SABACINESCA. 
 
 own signature is there, there in the office of the Stato 
 Civile at Aquila, to testify against him ? Can he ? " 
 
 "" Silence ! " roared the Prince. " Silence, woman, or by 
 God in heaven I will stop your talking for ever ! " He 
 made a step towards her, and there was a murderous red 
 light in his black eyes. But Giovanni sprang forward and 
 seized his father by the wrist. 
 
 "You cannot silence me," screamed Donna Tullia. "I 
 will be heard, and by all Koine. I will cry it upon the 
 housetops to all the world " 
 
 "Then you will precipitate your confinement in the 
 asylum of Santo Spirito," said Giovanni, in cold, calm 
 tones. "You are clearly mad." 
 
 " So I said," assented Corona, who was nevertheless 
 pale, and trembling with excitement. 
 
 " Allow me to speak with her," said Giovanni, who, like 
 most dangerous men, seemed to grow cold as others grew 
 hot. Donna Tullia leaned upon the table, breathing hard 
 between her closed teeth, her face scarlet. 
 
 "Madame," said Giovanni, advancing a step and con 
 fronting her, " you say that I am married, and that I am 
 contemplating a monstrous crime. Upon what do you base 
 your extraordinary assertions ? " 
 
 " Upon attested copies of your marriage certificate, of 
 the civil register where your handwriting has been seen 
 and recognised. What more would you have ? " 
 
 " It is monstrous ! " cried the Prince, advancing again. 
 "It is the most abominable lie ever concocted! My 
 son married without my knowledge, and to a peasant ! 
 Absurd ! " 
 
 But Giovanni waved his father back, and kept his place 
 before Donna Tullia. 
 
 "I give you the alternative of producing instantly those 
 proofs you refer to," he said, " and which you certainly 
 cannot produce, or of waiting in this house until a com 
 petent physician has decided whether you are sufficiently 
 sane to be allowed to go home alone." 
 
 Donna Tullia hesitated. She was in a terrible position, 
 
SAEACINESCA. 345 
 
 for Del Eerice had left Rome suddenly, and though the 
 papers were somewhere in his house, she knew not where, 
 nor how to get at them. It was impossible to imagine a 
 situation more desperate, and she felt it as she looked 
 round and saw the pale dark faces of the three resolute 
 persons whose anger she had thus roused. She believed 
 that Giovanni was capable of anything, but she was 
 astonished at his extraordinary calmness. She hesitated 
 for a moment. 
 
 "That is perfectly just," said Corona. "If you have 
 proofs, you can produce them. If you have none, you 
 are insane." 
 
 "I have them, and I will produce them before this hour 
 to-morrow," answered Donna Tullia, not knowing how she 
 should get the papers, but knowing that she was lost if 
 she failed to obtain them. 
 
 "Why not to-day at once?" asked Giovanni, with 
 some scorn. 
 
 "It will take twenty-four hours to forge them," 
 growled his father. 
 
 "You have no right to insult me so grossly," cried 
 Donna Tullia. "But beware I have you in my power. 
 By this time to-morrow you shall see with your own 
 eyes that I speak the truth. Let me go," she cried, as 
 the old Prince placed himself between her and the door. 
 
 "I will," said he. "But before you go, I beg you to 
 observe that if between now and the time you show us 
 these documents you breathe abroad one word of your 
 accusations, I will have you arrested as a dangerous 
 lunatic, and lodged in Santo Spirito ; and if these papers 
 are not authentic, you will be arrested to-morrow after 
 noon on a charge of forgery. You quite understand 
 me ? " He stood aside to let her pass. She laughed 
 scornfully in his face, and went out. 
 
 When she was gone the three looked at each other, as 
 though trying to comprehend what had happened. In 
 deed, it was beyond their comprehension. Corona 
 leaned against the chimneypiece, and her eyes rested 
 
346 SABACINESCA. 
 
 lovingly upon Giovanni. No doubt had ever crossed her 
 mind of his perfect honesty. Old Saracinesca looked 
 from one to the other for a moment, and then, striking 
 the palms of his hands together, turned and began to 
 walk up and down the room. 
 
 " In the first place," said G-iovanni, " at the time she 
 mentions I was in Canada, upon a shooting expedition, 
 with a party of Englishmen. It is easy to prove that, as 
 they are all alive and well now, so far as I have heard. 
 Donna Tullia is clearly out of her mind." 
 
 " The news of your engagement has driven her mad," 
 said the old Prince, with a grim laugh. " It is a very 
 interesting and romantic case." 
 
 Corona blushed a little, and her eyes sought Giovanni's, 
 but her face was very grave. It was a terrible thing to 
 see a person she had known so long becoming insane, and 
 for the sake of the man she herself so loved. And yet 
 she had not a doubt of Donna Tullia's madness. It was 
 very sad. 
 
 "I wonder who could have put this idea into her 
 head," said Giovanni, thoughtfully. " It does not look 
 like a creation of her own brain. I wonder, too, what 
 absurdities she will produce in the way of documents. 
 Of course they must be forged." 
 
 " She will not bring them," returned his father, in a 
 tone of certainty. " We shall hear to-morrow that she 
 is raving in the delirium of a brain-fever." 
 
 " Poor thing ! " exclaimed Corona. " It is dreadful to 
 think of it." 
 
 " It is dreadful to think that she should have caused 
 you all this trouble and annoyance," said Giovanni, 
 warmly. " You must have had a terrible scene with her 
 before we came. What did she say ? " 
 
 " Just what she said to you. Then she began to rail 
 against you j and I sent for you, and told her that unless 
 she could be silent I would lock her up alone until you 
 arrived. So she sat down in that chair, and pretended 
 to read. But it was an immense relief when you came ! " 
 
SAEACINESCA. 347 
 
 " You did not once believe what she said might possibly 
 be true ? " asked Giovanni, with a loving look. 
 
 " I ? How could you ever think it ! " exclaimed Corona. 
 Then she laughed, and added, " But of course you knew 
 that I would not. 77 
 
 "Indeed, yes," he answered. "It never entered my 
 head." 
 
 " By-the-bye," said old Saracinesca, glancing at the 
 Duchessa's black bonnet and gloved hands, "you must 
 have been just ready to go out when she came we must 
 not keep you. I suppose that when she said she would 
 bring her proofs to-morrow at this hour, she meant she 
 would bring them here. Shall we come to-morrow then ? " 
 
 Yes by all means," she answered. " Come to break 
 fast at one o'clock. I am alone, you know, for Sister 
 Gabrielle has insisted upon going back to her community. 
 But what does it matter now ? " 
 
 " What does it matter ? " echoed the Prince. " You are 
 to be married so soon. I really think we can do as we 
 please." He generally did as he pleased. 
 
 The two men left her, and a few minutes later she de 
 scended the steps of the palace and entered her carriage, 
 as though nothing had happened. 
 
 Six months had passed since she had given her troth to 
 Giovanni upon the tower of Saracinesca, and she knew 
 that she loved him better now than then. Little had hap 
 pened of interest in the interval of time, and the days had 
 seemed long. But until after Christmas she had remained 
 at Astrardente, busying herself constantly with the im 
 provements she had already begun, and aided by the coun 
 sels of Giovanni. He had taken a cottage of hers in the 
 lower part of her village, and had fitted it up with the 
 few comforts he judged necessary. In this lodging he had 
 generally spent half the week, going daily to the palace 
 upon the hill and remaining for long hours in Corona's 
 society, studying her plans and visiting with her the works 
 which grew beneath their joint direction. She had grown 
 to know him as she had not known him before, and to 
 
348 SARACINESCA. 
 
 understand more fully his manly character. He was a 
 very resolute man, and very much in earnest when he 
 chanced to be doing anything ; but the strain of melan 
 choly which he inherited from his mother made him often 
 inclined to a sort of contemplative idleness, during which 
 his mind seemed preoccupied with absorbing thoughts. 
 Many people called his fits of silence an affectation, or 
 part of his system for rendering himself interesting ; but 
 Corona soon saw how real was his abstraction, and she saw 
 also that she alone was able to attract his attention and 
 interest him when the fit was upon him. Slowly, by a 
 gradual study of him, she learned what few had ever 
 guessed, namely, that beneath the experienced man of the 
 world, under his modest manner and his gentle ways, there 
 lay a powerful mainspring of ambition, a mine of strength, 
 which would one day exert itself and make itself felt upon 
 his surroundings. He had developed slowly, feeding upon 
 many experiences of the world in many countries, his quick 
 Italian intelligence comprehending often more than it 
 seemed to do, while the quiet dignity he got from his 
 Spanish blood made him appear often very cold. But now 
 and again, when under the influence of some large idea, 
 his tongue was loosed in the charm of Corona's presence, 
 and he spoke to her, as he had never spoken to any one, 
 of projects and plans which should make the world move. 
 She did not always understand him wholly, but she knew 
 that the man she loved was something more than the 
 world at large believed him to be, and there was a thrill 
 of pride in the thought which delighted her inmost soul. 
 She, too, was ambitious, but her ambition was all for him. 
 She felt that there was little room for common aspirations 
 in his position or in her own. All that high birth, and 
 wealth, and personal consideration could give, they both 
 had abundantly, beyond their utmost wishes ; anything 
 they could desire beyond that must lie in a larger sphere 
 of action than mere society, in the world of political power. 
 She herself had had dreams, and entertained them still, 
 of founding some great institution of charity, of doing 
 
SARACINESCA. 349 
 
 something for her poorer fellows. But she learned by 
 degrees that Giovanni looked further than to such ordi 
 nary means of employing power, and that there was in him 
 a great ambition to bring great forces to bear upon great 
 questions for the accomplishment of great results. The 
 six months of her engagement to him had not only 
 strengthened her love for him, already deep and strong, 
 but had implanted in her an unchanging determination to 
 second him in all his life, to omit nothing in her power 
 which could assist him in the career he should choose for 
 himself, and which she regarded as the ultimate field for 
 his extraordinary powers. It was strange that, while 
 granting him everything else, people had never thought of 
 calling him a man of remarkable intelligence. But no one 
 knew him as Corona knew him ; no one suspected that 
 there was in him anything more than the traditional tem 
 per of the Saracinesca, with sufficient mind to make him 
 as fair a representative of his race as his father was. 
 
 There was more than mere love and devotion in the 
 complete security she felt when she saw him attacked by 
 Donna Tullia ; there was already the certainty that he 
 was born to be above small things, and to create a sphere 
 of his own in which he would move as other men could not. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 When Donna Tullia quitted the Palazzo Astrardente 
 her head swam. She had utterly failed to do what she 
 had expected ; and from being the accuser, she felt that 
 she was suddenly thrust into the position of the accused. 
 Instead of inspiring terror in Corona, and causing Gio 
 vanni the terrible humiliation she had supposed he would 
 feel at the exposure of his previous marriage, she had been 
 coldly told that she was mad, and that her pretended 
 
350 SARACINESCA. 
 
 proofs were forgeries. Though, she herself felt no doubt 
 whatever concerning the authenticity of the documents, 
 it was very disappointing to find that the first mention of 
 them produced no startling effect upon any one, least of 
 all upon Giovanni himself. The man, she thought, was 
 a most accomplished villain; since he was capable of 
 showing such hardened indifference to her accusation, he 
 was capable also of thwarting her in her demonstration 
 of their truth and she trembled at the thought of what 
 she saw. Old Saracinesca was not a man to be trifled with, 
 nor his son either: they were powerful, and would be 
 revenged for the insult. But in the meanwhile she had 
 promised to produce her proofs ; and when she regained 
 enough composure to consider the matter from all its 
 points, she came to the conclusion that after all her game 
 was not lost, seeing that attested documents are evidence 
 not easily refuted, even by powerful men like Leone and 
 Giovanni Saracinesca. She gradually convinced herself 
 that their indifference was a pretence, and that they were 
 accomplices in the matter, their object being to gain 
 Corona with all her fortune for Giovanni's wife. But, at 
 the same time, Donna Tullia felt in the depths of her 
 heart a misgiving : she was clever enough to recognise, 
 even in spite of herself, the difference between a liar and 
 an honest man. 
 
 She must get possession of these papers and immedi 
 ately too ; there must be no delay in showing them to 
 Corona, and in convincing her that this was no mere 
 fable, but an assertion founded upon very substantial 
 evidence. Del Ferice was suddenly gone to Naples : 
 obviously the only way to get at the papers was to bribe 
 his servant to deliver them up. Ugo had once or twice 
 mentioned Temistocle to her, and she judged from the 
 few words he had let fall that the fellow was a scoundrel, 
 who would sell his soul for money. Madame Mayer drove 
 home, and put on the only dark-coloured gown she pos 
 sessed, wound a thick veil about her head, provided her 
 self with a number of bank-notes, which she thrust 
 
SAKACINESCA. 351 
 
 between the palm of her hand and her glove, left the 
 house on foot, and took a cab. There was nothing to be 
 done but to go herself, for she could trust no one. Her 
 heart beat fast as she ascended the narrow stone steps of 
 Del Ferice's lodging, and stopped upon the landing before 
 the small green door, whereon she read his name. She 
 pulled the bell, and Temistocle appeared in his shirt 
 sleeves. 
 
 " Does Count Del Ferice live here ? " asked Donna 
 Tullia, peering over the man's shoulder into the dark 
 and narrow passage within. 
 
 "He lives here, but he is gone to Naples," answered 
 Temistocle, promptly. 
 
 " When will he be back ? " she inquired. The man 
 raised his shoulders to his ears, and spread out the palms 
 of his hands to signify that he did not know. Donna 
 Tullia hesitated. She had never attempted to bribe any 
 body in her life, and hardly knew how to go about it. 
 She thought that the sight of the money might produce 
 an impression, and she withdrew a bank-note from the hol 
 low of her hand, spreading it out between her fingers. 
 Temistocle eyed it greedily. 
 
 " There are twenty-five scudi," she said. " If you will 
 help me to find a piece of paper in your master's room, 
 you shall have them." 
 
 Temistocle drew himself up with an air of mock pride. 
 Madame Mayer looked at him. 
 
 "Impossible, signora," he said. Then she drew out 
 another. Temistocle eyed the glove curiously to see if 
 it contained more. 
 
 " Signora," he repeated, " it is impossible. My master 
 would kill me. I cannot think of it." But his tone 
 seemed to yield a little. Donna Tullia found another 
 bank-note ; there were now seventy-five scudi in her hand. 
 She thought she saw Temistocle tremble with excitement. 
 But still he hesitated. 
 
 " Signora, my conscience," he said, in a low voice of 
 protestation. 
 
352 SAKACINESCA. 
 
 "Come," said Madame Mayer, impatiently, "there Is 
 another there are a hundred scudi that is all I have 
 got," she added, turning down her empty glove. 
 
 Suddenly Temistocle put out his hand and grasped the 
 bank-notes eagerly. But instead of retiring to allow her 
 to enter, he pushed roughly past her. 
 
 "You may go in," he said in a hoarse whisper, and 
 turning quickly, fled precipitately down the narrow steps, 
 in his shirt-sleeves as he was. Madame Mayer stood for 
 a moment looking after him in surprise, even when he 
 had already disappeared. 
 
 Then she turned and entered the door rather timidly ; 
 but before she had gone two steps in the dark passage, 
 she uttered a cry of horror. Del Ferice stood in her way, 
 wrapped in a loose dressing-gown, a curious expression 
 upon his pale face, which from its whiteness was clearly 
 distinguishable in the gloom. Temistocle had cheated her, 
 had lied in telling her that his master was absent, had 
 taken her bribe and had fled. He would easily find an 
 excuse for having allowed her to enter ; and with his quick 
 valet's instinct, he guessed that she would not confess to 
 Del Ferice that she had bribed him. Ugo came forward 
 a step and instantly recognised Madame Mayer. 
 
 " Donna Tullia ! " he cried, " what are you doing ? You 
 must not be seen here." 
 
 A less clever man than Ugo would have pretended to be 
 overjoyed at her coming. Del Ferice 's fine instincts told 
 him that for whatever cause she had come and he guessed 
 the cause well enough he would get a firmer hold upon 
 her consideration by appearing to be shocked at her im 
 prudence. Donna Tullia was nearly fainting with fright, 
 and stood leaning against the wall of the passage. 
 
 " I thought I I must see you at once," she stammered. 
 
 " Not here," he answered, quickly. " Go home at once ; 
 I will join you in five minutes. It will ruin you to have 
 it known that you have been here." 
 
 Madame Mayer took courage at his tone. 
 
 " You must bring them those papers," she said, hur- 
 
SARACINESCA. 353 
 
 riedly. "Something dreadful has happened. Promise 
 me to come at once ! " 
 
 " I will come at once, my dear lady," he said, gently 
 pushing her towards the door. "I cannot even go down 
 stairs with you forgive me. You have your carriage of 
 course ? " 
 
 " I have a cab," replied Donna Tullia, faintly, submit 
 ting to be put out of the door. He seized her hand and 
 kissed it passionately, or with a magnificent semblance of 
 passion. With a startled look, Donna Tullia turned and 
 went rapidly down the steps. Del Ferice smiled softly to 
 himself when she was gone, and went in again to exchange 
 his dressing-gown for a coat. He had her in his power at 
 last. He had guessed that she would betray the secret 
 that after the engagement became known, she would not 
 be able to refrain from communicating it to Corona d' Astrar- 
 dente ; and so soon as he heard the news, he had shut 
 himself up in his lodging, pretending a sudden journey to 
 Naples, determined not to set foot out of the house until 
 he heard that Donna Tullia had committed herself. He 
 knew that when she had once spoken she would make a 
 desperate attempt to obtain the papers, for he knew that 
 such an assertion as hers would need to be immediately 
 proved, at the risk of her position in society. His plot 
 had succeeded so far. His only anxiety was to know 
 whether she had mentioned his name in connection with 
 the subject, but he guessed, from his knowledge of her 
 character, that she would not do so : she would respect 
 her oath enough to conceal his name, even while breaking 
 her promise ; she would enjoy taking the sole credit of 
 the discovery upon herself, and she would shun an avowal 
 which would prove her to have discussed with any one else 
 the means of preventing the marriage, because it would 
 be a confession of jealousy, and consequently of personal 
 interest in Don Giovanni. Del Ferice was a very clever 
 fellow. 
 
 He put on his coat, and in five minutes was seated in a 
 cab on his way to Donna Tullia's house, with a large en- 
 
354 SAKACINESCA. 
 
 velope full of papers in his pocket. He found her as she 
 had left him, her face still wrapped in a veil, walking up 
 and down her drawing-room in great excitement. He ad 
 vanced and saluted her courteously, maintaining a digni 
 fied gravity of bearing which he judged fitting for the 
 occasion. 
 
 " And now, my dear lady," he said, gently, " will you 
 tell me exactly what you have done ? " 
 
 " This morning," answered Madame Mayer, in a stifled 
 voice, " I heard of the Astrardente's engagement to Don 
 Giovanni. It seemed such a terrible thing ! " 
 
 " Terrible, indeed," said Del Ferice, solemnly. 
 
 " I sent for you at once, to know what to do : they said 
 you were gone to Naples. I thought, of course, that you 
 would approve if you were here, because we ought to pre 
 vent such a dreadful crime of course." She waited for 
 some sign of assent, but Del Ferice's pale face expressed 
 nothing but a sort of grave reproach. 
 
 " And then," she continued, " as I could not find you, I 
 thought it was best to act at once, and so I went to see the 
 Astrardente, feeling that you would entirely support me. 
 There was a terrific scene. She sent for the two Saracin- 
 esca, and I waited till they came, because I was deter 
 mined to see justice done. I am sure I was right, was 
 I not?" 
 
 " What did they say ? " asked Del Ferice, quietly watch 
 ing her face. 
 
 " If you will believe it, that monster of villany, Don 
 Giovanni, was as cold as stone, and denied the whole matter 
 from beginning to end ; but his father was very angry. Of 
 course they demanded the proofs. I never saw anything 
 like the brazen assurance of Don Giovanni." 
 
 " Did you mention me ? " inquired Del Ferice. 
 
 " No, I had not seen you : of course I did not want to 
 implicate you. I said I would show them the papers to 
 morrow at the same hour." 
 
 "And then you came to see me," said Del Ferice. 
 " That was very rash. You might have seriously com- 
 
SARACINESCA. 355 
 
 promised yourself. I would have come if you had sent 
 for me." 
 
 "But they said you had gone to Naples. Your ser 
 vant," continued Donna Tullia, blushing scarlet at the 
 remembrance of her interview with Temistocle, " your 
 servant assured me in person that you had gone to 
 Naples " 
 
 " I see," replied Del Ferice, quietly. He did not wish 
 to press her to a confession of having tried to get the 
 papers in his absence. His object was to put her at her 
 ease. 
 
 " My dear lady," he continued, gently, " you have done 
 an exceedingly rash thing ; but I will support you in every 
 way, by putting the documents in your possession at 
 once. It is unfortunate that you should have acted so 
 suddenly, for we do not know what has become of this 
 Felice Baldi, nor have we any immediate means of find 
 ing out. It might have taken weeks to find her. Why 
 were you so rash ? You could have waited till I returned, 
 and we could have discussed the matter carefully, and 
 decided whether it were really wise to make use of my 
 information." 
 
 " You do not doubt that I did right ? " asked Donna 
 Tullia, turning a little pale. 
 
 " I think you acted precipitately in speaking without 
 consulting me. All may yet be well. But in the first 
 place, as you did not ask my opinion, you will see the 
 propriety of not mentioning my name, since you have 
 not done so already. It can do no good, for the papers 
 speak for themselves, and whatever value they may have 
 is inherent in them. Do you see ? " 
 
 " Of course, there is no need of mentioning you, unless 
 you wish to have a share in the exposure of this abom 
 inable wickedness." 
 
 "I am satisfied with my share," replied Del Ferice, 
 with a quiet smile. 
 
 " It is not an important one," returned Donna Tullia, 
 nervously. 
 
356 SABACINESCA. 
 
 "It is the lion's share," he answered. "Most adorable 
 of women, you have not, I am sure, forgotten the terms of 
 our agreement terms so dear to me, that every word of 
 them is engraven for ever upon the tablet of my heart." 
 
 Madame Mayer started slightly. She had not realised 
 that her promise to marry Ugo was now due she did 
 not believe that he would press it ; he had exacted it to 
 frighten her, and besides, she had so persuaded herself 
 that he would approve of her conduct, that she had not 
 felt as though she were betraying his secret. 
 
 " You will not you cannot hold me to that ; you ap 
 prove of telling the Astrardente, on the whole, it is the 
 same as though I had consulted you " 
 
 " Pardon me, my dear lady ; you did not consult me," 
 answered Del Ferice, soothingly. He sat near her by 
 the fire, his hat upon his knee, no longer watching her, 
 but gazing contemplatively at the burning logs. There 
 was a delicacy about his pale face since the wound he 
 had received a year before which was rather attractive : 
 from having been a little inclined to stoutness, he had 
 grown slender and more graceful, partly because his 
 health had really been affected by his illness, and partly 
 because he had determined never again to risk being too 
 fat. 
 
 " I tried to consult you," objected Donna Tullia. "It 
 is the same thing." 
 
 "It is not the same thing to me," he answered, "al 
 though you have not involved me in the affair. I would 
 have most distinctly advised you to say nothing about it 
 at present. You have acted rashly, have put yourself in 
 a most painful situation; and you have broken your 
 promise to me a very solemn promise, Donna Tullia, 
 sworn upon the memory of your mother and upon a 
 holy relic. One cannot make light of such promises as 
 that." 
 
 " You made me give it in order to frighten me. The 
 Church does not bind us to oaths sworn under compul 
 sion," she argued. 
 
SAKACINESCA. 357 
 
 "Excuse me; there was no compulsion whatever. You 
 wanted to know my secret, and for the sake of knowing 
 it you bound yourself. That is not compulsion. I can 
 not compel you. I could not think of presuming to com 
 pel you to marry me now. But I can say to you that I 
 am devotedly attached to you, that to marry you is the 
 aim and object of my life, and if you refuse, I will tell 
 you that you are doing a great wrong, repudiating a sol 
 emn contract " 
 
 "If I refuse well but you would give me the 
 papers ? " asked Donna Tullia, who was beginning to 
 tremble for the result of the interview. She had a 
 vague suspicion that, for the sake of obtaining them, she 
 would even be willing to promise to marry Del Eerice. 
 It would be very wrong, perhaps ; but it would be for the 
 sake of accomplishing good, by preventing Corona from 
 falling into the trap Corona, whom she hated ! Still, 
 it would be a generous uct to save her. The minds of 
 women like Madame Mayer are apt to be a little tortu 
 ous when they find themselves hemmed in between their 
 own jealousies, hatreds, and personal interests. 
 
 "If you refused no; if you refused, I am afraid I could 
 not give you the papers/ 7 replied Del Ferice, musing as he 
 gazed at the fire. "I love you too much to lose that 
 chance of winning you, even for the sake of saving the 
 Duchessa d'Astrardente from her fate. Why do you re 
 fuse ? why do you bargain ? " he asked, suddenly turning 
 towards her. "Does all my devotion count for nothing 
 all my love, all my years of patient waiting ? Oh, you can 
 not be so cruel as to snatch the cup from my very lips ! 
 It is not for the sake of these miserable documents : what 
 is it to me whether Don Giovanni appears as the criminal 
 in a case of bigamy whether he is ruined now, as by his 
 evil deeds he will be hereafter, or whether he goes on un 
 harmed and unthwarted upon his career of wickedness ? 
 He is nothing to me, nor his pale-faced bride either. It is 
 for you that I care, for you that I will do anything, bad or 
 
 good, to win you that I would risk my life and my soul. 
 Vol. 1016 
 
358 SARACINESCA. 
 
 Can you not see it ? Have I not been faithful for very 
 long ? Take pity on me forget this whole business, for 
 get that you have promised anything, forget all except 
 that I am here at your feet, a miserable man, unless you 
 speak the word, and turn all my wretchedness into joy!" 
 
 He slipped from his seat and knelt upon one knee before 
 her, clasping one of her hands passionately between both 
 his own. The scene was well planned and well executed ; 
 his voice had a ring of emotion that sounded pleasantly in 
 Donna Tullia's ears, and his hands trembled with excite 
 ment. She did not repulse him, being a vain woman and 
 willing to believe in the reality of the passion so well simu 
 lated. Perhaps, too, it was not wholly put on, for she was 
 a handsome, dashing woman, in the prime of youth, and 
 Del Ferice was a man who had always been susceptible to 
 charms of that kind. Donna Tullia hesitated, wondering 
 what more he could say. But he, on his part, knew the 
 danger of trusting too much to eloquence when not backed 
 by a greater strength than his, and he pressed her for an 
 answer. 
 
 "Be generous trust me," he cried. "Believe that your 
 happiness is everything to me ; believe that I will take no 
 unfair advantage of a hasty promise. Tell me that, of your 
 own free will, you will be my wife, and command me any 
 thing, that I may prove my devotion. It is so true, so 
 honest, Tullia, I adore you, I live only for you ! Speak 
 the word, and make me the happiest of men ! " 
 
 He really looked handsome as he knelt before her, and 
 she felt the light, nervous pressure of his hand at every 
 word he spoke. After all, what did it matter ? She might 
 accept him, and then well, if she did not like the idea, 
 she could throw him over. It would only cost her a vio 
 lent scene, and a few moments of discomfort. Meanwhile 
 she would get the papers. 
 
 " But you would give me the papers, would you not, and 
 
 leave me to decide whether Really, Del Ferice," she 
 
 said, interrupting herself with a nervous laugh, " this is 
 very absurd." 
 
SARACINESCA. 359 
 
 " I implore you not to speak of the papers it is not 
 absurd. It may seem so to you, but it is life or death to 
 me : death if you refuse me life if you will speak the 
 word and be mine ! " 
 
 Donna Tullia made up her mind. He would evidently 
 not give her what she wanted, except in return for a 
 promise of marriage. She had grown used to him, almost 
 fond of him, in the last year. 
 
 " Well, I do not know whether I am right," she said, 
 " but I am really very fond of you ; and if you will do all 
 I S ay " 
 
 " Everything, my dear lady ; everything in the world 
 I will do, if you will make me so supremely happy," cried 
 Del Ferice, ardently. 
 
 " Then yes ; I will marry you. Only get up and sit 
 upon your chair like a reasonable being. No ; you really 
 must be reasonable, or you must go away." Ugo was 
 madly kissing her hands. He was really a good actor, if 
 it was all acting. She could not but be moved by his pale 
 delicate face and passionate words. With a quick move 
 ment he sprang to his feet and stood before her, clasping 
 his hands together and gazing into her face. 
 
 U 0h, I am the happiest man alive to-day!" he ex 
 claimed, and the sense of triumph that he felt lent en 
 ergy to his voice. 
 
 "Do sit down," said Donna Tullia, gaily, "and let us 
 talk it all over. In the first place, what am I to do 
 first ? " 
 
 Del Ferice found it convenient to let his excitement 
 subside, and as a preliminary he walked twice the length 
 of the room. 
 
 " It is so hard to be calm ! " he exclaimed ; but never 
 theless he presently sat down in his former seat, and 
 seemed to collect his faculties with wonderful ease. 
 
 " What is to be done first ? " asked Donna Tullia again. 
 
 "In the first place," answered Del Ferice, "here are 
 those precious papers. As they are notary's copies them 
 selves, and not the originals, it is of no importance 
 
360 SARACINESCA. 
 
 whether Don Giovanni tears them up or not. It is easy 
 to get others if he does. I have noted down all the 
 names and dates. I wish we had some information about 
 Felice Baldi. It is very unfortunate that we have not, 
 but it would perhaps take a month to find her." 
 
 " I must act at once," said Donna Tullia, firmly ; for 
 she remembered old Saracinesca's threats, and was in a 
 hurry. 
 
 " Of course. These documents speak for themselves. 
 They bear the address of the notary who made the copies 
 in Aquila. If the Saracinesca choose, they can them 
 selves go there and see the originals." 
 
 " Could they not destroy those too ? " asked Donna 
 Tullia, nervously. 
 
 " No ; they can only see one at a time, and the person, 
 who will show them will watch them. Besides, it is 
 easy to write to the curate of the church of San Bernar 
 dino to be on his guard. We will do that in any case. 
 The matter is perfectly plain. Your best course is to 
 meet the Astrardente to-morrow at the appointed time, 
 and simply present these papers for inspection. No one 
 can deny their authenticity, for they bear the Govern 
 ment stamp and the notary's seal, as you see, here and 
 here. If they ask you, as they certainly will, how you 
 came by them, you can afford to answer, that, since you 
 have them, it is not necessary to know whence they came ; 
 that they may go and verify the originals ; and that in 
 warning them of the fact, you have fulfilled a duty to so 
 ciety, and have done a service to the Astrardente, if not 
 to Giovanni Saracinesca. You have them in your power, 
 and you can afford to take the high hand in the matter. 
 They must believe the evidence of their senses j and they 
 must either allow that Giovanni's first wife is alive, or 
 they must account for her death, and prove it. There is 
 no denial possible in the face of these proofs." 
 
 Donna Tullia drew a long breath, for the case seemed 
 perfectly clear; and the anticipation of her triumph 
 already atoned for the sacrifice she had made. 
 
SARACINESCA. 361 
 
 "You are a wonderful man, Del Ferice ! " she ex 
 claimed. " I do not know whether I am wise in promis 
 ing to marry you, but I have the greatest admiration for 
 your intellect/' 
 
 Del Ferice glanced at her and smiled. Then he made 
 as though he would return the papers to his pocket. She 
 sprang towards him, and seized him by the wrist. 
 
 "Do not be afraid!" she cried, "I will keep my 
 promise." 
 
 " Solemnly ? " he asked, still smiling, and holding the 
 envelope firmly in his hand. 
 
 "Solemnly," she answered; and then added, with a 
 quick laugh, "but you are so abominably clever, that I 
 believe you could make me marry you against my will." 
 
 " Never ! " said Del Ferice, earnestly ; " I love you far 
 too much." He had wonderfully clear instincts. " And 
 now," he continued, "we have settled that matter j 
 when shall the happy day be ? " 
 
 " Oh, there is time enough to think of that," answered 
 Donna Tullia, with a blush that might have passed for 
 the result of a coy shyness, but which was in reality 
 caused by a certain annoyance at being pressed. 
 
 "No," objected Del Ferice, " we must announce our en 
 gagement at once. There is no reason for delay to-day 
 is better than to-morrow." 
 
 " To-day ? " repeated Donna Tullia, in some alarm. 
 
 " Why not ? Why not, my dear lady, since you and 
 I are both in earnest ? " 
 
 " I think it would be much better to let this affair pass 
 first." 
 
 " On the contrary," he argued, " from the moment we 
 are publicly engaged I become your natural protector. 
 If any one offers you any insult in this matter, I shall 
 then have an acknowledged right to avenge you a right 
 I dearly covet. Do you think I would dread to meet 
 Don Giovanni again ? He wounded me, it is true, but 
 he has the marks of my sword upon his body also. Give 
 me at once the privilege of appearing as your champion, 
 
362 SARACINESCA. 
 
 and you will not regret it. But if you delay doing so, 
 all sorts of circumstances may arise, all sorts of unpleas 
 antness who could protect you ? Of course, even in 
 that case I would ; but you know the tongues of the gos 
 sips in Rome it would do you harm instead of good." 
 
 " That is true, and you are very brave and very kind. 
 But it seems almost too soon," objected Donna Tullia, 
 who, however, was fast learning to yield to his judg 
 ment. 
 
 "Those things cannot be done too soon. It gives us 
 liberty, and it gives the world satisfaction ; it protects 
 you, and it will be an inestimable pleasure to me. Why 
 delay the inevitable ? Let us appear at once as engaged 
 to be married, and you put a sword in my hand to de 
 fend you and to enforce your position in this unfortu 
 nate affair with the Astrardente." 
 
 "Well, you may announce it if you please," she 
 answered, reluctantly. 
 
 " Thank you, my dear lady," said Del Ferice. " And 
 here are the papers. Make the best use of them you can 
 any use that you make of them will be good, I know. 
 How could it be otherwise ? " 
 
 Donna Tullia's fingers closed upon the large envelope 
 with a grasping grip, as though she would never relin 
 quish that for which she had paid so dear a price. She 
 had, indeed, at one time almost despaired of getting pos 
 session of them, and she had passed a terrible hour, be 
 sides having abased herself to the fruitless bribery she 
 had practised upon Temistocle. But she had gained 
 her end, even at the expense of permitting Del Ferice to 
 publish her engagement to marry him. She felt that 
 she could break it off if she decided at last that the union 
 was too distasteful to her; but she foresaw that, from 
 the point of worldly ambition, she would be no great 
 loser by marrying a man of such cunning wit, who pos 
 sessed such weapons against his enemies, and who, on the 
 whole, as she believed, entirely sympathised with her 
 view of life. She recognised that her chances of making 
 
SARACINESCA. 363 
 
 a great match were diminishing rapidly ; she could not 
 tell precisely why, but she felt, to her mortification, that 
 she had not made a good use of her rich widowhood : 
 people did not respect her much, and as this touched her 
 vanity, she was susceptible to their lack of deference. 
 She had done no harm, but she knew that every one 
 thought her an irresponsible woman, and the thrifty Ro 
 mans feared her extravagance, though some of them per 
 haps courted her fortune : many had admired her, and 
 had to some extent expressed their devotion, but no scion 
 of all the great families had asked her to be his wife. 
 The nearest approach to a proposal had been the doubt 
 ful attention she had received from Giovanni Saracinesca 
 during the time when his headstrong father had almost 
 persuaded him to marry her, and she thought of her dis 
 appointed hopes with much bitterness. To destroy Gio 
 vanni by the revelations she now proposed to make, to 
 marry Del Ferice, and then to develop her position by 
 means of the large fortune she had inherited from her 
 first husband, seemed on the whole a wise plan. Del 
 Ferice's title was not much, to be sure, but, on the other 
 hand, he was intimate with every one she knew, and for 
 a few thousand scudi she could buy some small estate 
 with a good title attached to it. She would then change 
 her mode of life, and assume the pose of a social power, 
 which as a young widow she could not do. It was not 
 so bad, after all, especially if she could celebrate the first 
 day of her engagement by destroying the reputation of 
 Giovanni Saracinesca, root and branch, and dealing a blow 
 at Corona's happiness from which it would not recover. 
 
 As for Del Ferice, he regarded his triumph as complete. 
 He cared little what became of Giovanni whether he 
 was able to refute the evidence brought against him or 
 not. There had been nothing in the matter which was 
 dishonest, and properly made out marriage-certificates 
 are not easy things to annul. Giovanni might swim or 
 sink it was nothing to Ugo del Ferice, now that he had 
 gained the great object of his life, and was at liberty to 
 
364 SARACINESCA. 
 
 publish his engagement to Donna Tullia Mayer. He 
 lost 110 time in telling his friends the good news, and 
 before the evening was over a hundred people had con 
 gratulated him. Donna Tullia, too, appeared in more 
 than usually gay attire, and smilingly received the expres 
 sions of good wishes which were showered upon her. 
 She was not inclined to question the sincerity of those 
 who spoke, for in her present mood the stimulus of a 
 little popular noise was soothing to her nerves, which 
 had been badly strained by the excitement of the day. 
 When she closed her eyes she had evil visions of Temis- 
 tocle retreating at full speed down the stairs with his 
 unearned bribe, or of Del Ferice's calm, pale face, as he 
 had sat in her house that afternoon grasping the precious 
 documents in his hand until she promised to pay the 
 price he asked, which was herself. But she smiled at 
 each new congratulation readily enough, and said in her 
 heart that she would yet become a great power in society, 
 and make her house the centre of all attractions. And 
 meanwhile she pondered on the title she should buy for 
 her husband: she came of high blood herself, and she 
 knew how such dignities as a " principe " or a " duca " 
 were regarded when bought. There was nothing for it 
 but to find some snug little marquisate " marchese " 
 sounded very well, though one could not be called " eccel- 
 lenza " by one's servants ; still, as the daughter of a 
 prince, she might manage even that. "Marchese " yes, 
 that would do. What a pity there were only four " can 
 opy " marquises " marchesi del baldacchino " in Rome 
 with the rank of princes ! That was exactly the combi 
 nation of dignities Donna Tullia required for her husband. 
 But once a " marchese," if she was very charitable, and 
 did something in the way of a public work, the Holy 
 Father might condescend to make Del Ferice a " duca " 
 in the ordinary course as a step in the nobility. Donna 
 Tullia dreamed many things that night, and she after 
 wards accomplished most of them, to the surprise of 
 everybody, and, if the truth were told, to her own consid 
 erable astonishment. 
 
SAEACINESCA. 365 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 "Giovanni, you are the victim of some outrageous 
 plot/' said old Saracinesca, entering his son's room on the 
 following morning. " I have thought it all out in the 
 night, and I am convinced of it." 
 
 Giovanni was extended upon a sofa, with a book in his 
 hand and a cigar between his lips. He looked up quietly 
 from his reading. 
 
 " I am not the victim yet, nor ever will be," he an 
 swered ; " but it is evident that there is something at the 
 bottom of this besides Madame Mayer's imagination. I 
 will find out." 
 
 "What pleases me especially," remarked the old Prince, 
 " is the wonderful originality of the idea. It would have 
 been commonplace to make out that you had poisoned 
 half-a-dozen wives, and buried their bodies in the vaults 
 of Saracinesca; it would have been banal to say that 
 you were not yourself, but some one else j or to assert 
 that you were a revolutionary agent in disguise, and that 
 the real Giovanni had been murdered by you, who had 
 taken his place without my discovering it, very common 
 place all that. But to say that you actually have a living 
 wife, and to try to prove it by documents, is an idea 
 worthy of a great mind. It takes one's breath away." 
 
 Giovanni laughed. 
 
 " It will end in our having to go to Aquila in search of 
 my supposed better half," he said. "Aquila, of all places ! 
 If she had said Paris or even Florence but why, in the 
 name of geography, Aquila ? " 
 
 "She probably looked for some out-of-the-way place 
 upon an alphabetical list," laughed the Prince. " Aquila 
 stood first. We shall know in two hours come along. 
 It is time to be going." 
 
 They found Corona in her boudoir. She had passed an 
 uneasy hour on the previous afternoon after they had left 
 
366 SARACINESCA. 
 
 her, but her equanimity was now entirely restored. She 
 had made up her mind that, however ingenious the con 
 cocted evidence might turn out to be, it was absolutely 
 impossible to harm Giovanni by means of it. His position 
 was beyond attack, as, in her mind, his character was above 
 slander. Far from experiencing any sensation of anxiety 
 as to the result of Donna Tullia's visit, what she most felt 
 was curiosity to see what these fancied proofs would be 
 like. She still believed that Madame Mayer was mad. 
 
 "I have been remarking to Giovanni upon Donna 
 Tullia's originality," said old Saracinesca. " It is charm 
 ing ; it shows a talent for fiction which the world has been 
 long in realising, which we have not even suspected an 
 amazing and transcendent genius for invention." 
 
 " It is pure insanity," answered Corona, in a tone of 
 conviction. " The woman is mad." 
 
 "Mad as an Englishman," asseverated the Prince, using 
 the most powerful simile in the Italian language. " We 
 will have her in Santo Spirito before night, and she will 
 puzzle the doctors." 
 
 " She is not mad," said Giovanni, quietly. " I do not 
 even believe we shall find that her documents are forg 
 eries." 
 
 " What ? " cried his father. Corona looked quickly at 
 Giovanni. 
 
 " You yourself," said the latter, turning to old Saraci 
 nesca, " were assuring me half an hour ago that I was the 
 victim of a plot. Now, if anything of the kind is seriously 
 attempted, you may be sure it will be well done. She has 
 a good ally in the man to whom she is engaged. Del Ferice 
 is no fool, and he hates me." 
 
 " Del Ferice ! " exclaimed Corona, in surprise. As she 
 went nowhere as yet, she had., of course, not heard the 
 news which had been published on the previous evening. 
 "You do not mean to say that she is going to marry Del 
 Ferice?" 
 
 "Yes, indeed," said Giovanni. "They both appeared 
 last night and announced the fact, and received every 
 body's congratulations. It is a most appropriate match." 
 
SABACINESCA. 367 
 
 "I agree with, you a beautiful triangular alliteration 
 of wit, wealth, and wickedness," observed the Prince. 
 " He has brains, she has money, and they are both as bad 
 as possible." 
 
 " I thought you used to like Donna Tullia," said Corona, 
 suppressing a smile. 
 
 " I did," said old Saracinesca, stoutly. " I wanted Gio 
 vanni to marry her. It has pleased Providence to avert 
 that awful catastrophe. I liked Madame Mayer because 
 she was rich and noisy and good-looking, and I thought 
 that, as Giovanni's wife, she would make the house gay. 
 We are such a pair of solemn bears together, that it seemed 
 appropriate that somebody should make us dance. It was 
 a foolish idea, I confess, though I thought it very beautiful 
 at the time. It merely shows how liable we are to make 
 mistakes. Imagine Giovanni married to a lunatic ! " 
 
 "I repeat that she is not mad," said Giovanni. "I 
 cannot tell how they have managed it, but I am sure it 
 has been managed well, and will give us trouble. You 
 will see." 
 
 "I do not understand at all how there can be any 
 trouble about it," said Corona, proudly. " It is perfectly 
 simple for us to tell the truth, and to show that what 
 they say is a lie. You can prove easily enough that you 
 were in Canada at the time. I wish it were time for her 
 to come. Let us go to breakfast in the meanwhile." 
 
 The views taken by the three were characteristic of 
 their various natures. The old Prince, who was violent 
 of temper, and inclined always to despise an enemy in 
 any shape, scoffed air the idea that there was anything tcr 
 show ; and though his natural wit suggested from time 
 to time that there was a plot against his son, his general 
 opinion was, that it was a singular case of madness. He 
 hardly believed Donna Tullia would appear at all ; and 
 if she did, he expected some extraordinary outburst, 
 some pitiable exhibition of insanity. Corona, on the 
 other hand, maintained a proud indifference, scorning to 
 suppose that anything could possibly injure Giovanni in 
 
368 SARACINESCA. 
 
 any way, loving him too entirely to admit that he was vul 
 nerable at all, still less that he could possibly have done 
 anything to give colour to the accusation brought against 
 him. Giovanni alone of all the three foresaw that there 
 would be trouble, and dimly guessed how the thing had 
 been done ; for he did not fall into his father's error of 
 despising an enemy, and he had seen too much of the 
 world not to understand that danger is often greatest 
 when the appearance of it is least. 
 
 Breakfast was hardly over when Donna Tullia was an 
 nounced. All rose to meet her, and all looked at her 
 with equal interest. She was calmer than on the previ 
 ous day, and she carried a package of papers in her hand. 
 Her red lips were compressed, and her eyes looked defi 
 antly round upon all present. Whatever might be her 
 faults, she was not a coward when brought face to face 
 with danger. She was determined to carry the matter 
 through, both because she knew that she had no other 
 alternative, and because she believed herself to be doing 
 a righteous act, which, at the same time, fully satisfied 
 her desire for vengeance. She came forward boldly and 
 stood beside the table in the midst of the room. Corona 
 was upon one side of the fireplace, and the two Saraci- 
 nesca upon the other. All three held their breath in 
 expectation of what Donna Tullia was about to say ; the 
 sense of her importance impressed her, and her love of 
 dramatic situations . being satisfied, she assumed some 
 thing of the air of a theatrical avenging angel, and her 
 utterance was rhetorical. 
 
 " I come here," she said, " at your invitation, to exhibit 
 to your eyes the evidence of what I yesterday asserted 
 the evidence of the monstrous crime of which I accuse 
 that man." Here she raised her finger with a gesture of 
 scorn, and extending her whole arm, pointed towards 
 Giovanni. 
 
 " Madam," interrupted the old Prince, " I will trouble 
 you to select your epithets and expressions with more 
 care. Pray be brief, and show what you have brought." 
 
SARACINESCA. 369 
 
 "I will show it, indeed," replied Donna Tullia, "and 
 you shall tremble at what you see. When you have evi 
 dence of the truth of what I say, you may choose any 
 language you please to define the action of your son. 
 These documents," she said, holding up the package, " are 
 attested copies made from the originals the first two in 
 the possession of the curate of the church of San Ber 
 nardino da Siena, at Aquila, the other in the office of the 
 Stato Civile in the same city. As they are only copies, 
 you need not think that you will gain anything by de 
 stroying them." 
 
 " Spare your comments upon our probable conduct/' 
 interrupted the Prince, roughly. Donna Tullia eyed him 
 with a scornful glance, and her face began to grow red. 
 
 " You may destroy them if you please," she repeated ; 
 " but I advise you to observe that they bear the Govern 
 ment stamp and the notarial seal of Gianbattista Caldani, 
 notary public in the city of Aquila, and that they are, 
 consequently, beyond all doubt genuine copies of genuine 
 documents." 
 
 Donna Tullia proceeded to open the envelope and with 
 draw the three papers it contained. Spreading them out, 
 she took up the first, which contained the extract from 
 the curate's book of banns. It set forth that upon the 
 three Sundays preceding the 19th of June 1863, the said 
 curate had published, in the parish church of San Ber 
 nardino da Siena, the banns of marriage between Gio 
 vanni Saracinesca and Felice Baldi. Donna Tullia read 
 it aloud. 
 
 Giovanni could hardly suppress a laugh, it sounded so 
 strangely. Corona herself turned pale, though she 
 firmly believed the whole thing to be an imposture of 
 some kind. 
 
 "Permit me, madam," said old Saracinesca, stepping 
 forward and taking the paper from her hand. He care 
 fully examined the seal and stamp. " It is very cleverly 
 done," he said with a sneer ; " but there should be only 
 one letter r in the name Saracinesca here it is spelt with 
 
370 SARACINESCA. 
 
 two ! Very clever, but a slight mistake ! Observe," he 
 said, showing the place to Donna Tullia. 
 
 "It is a mistake of the copyist," she said, scornfully. 
 " The name is properly spelt in the other papers. Here 
 is the copy of the marriage register. Shall I read it 
 also?" 
 
 "Spare me the humiliation," said Giovanni, in quiet 
 contempt. "Spare me the unutterable mortification of 
 discovering that there is another Giovanni Saracinesca 
 in the world!" 
 
 " I could not have believed that any one could be so 
 hardened," said Donna Tullia. "But whether you are 
 humiliated or not by the evidence of your misdeeds, I 
 will spare you nothing. Here it is in full, and you may 
 notice that your name is spelt properly too." 
 
 She held up the document and then read it out the 
 copy of the curate's register, stating that on the 19th of 
 June 1863 Giovanni Saracinesca and Felice Baldi were 
 united in holy matrimony in the church of San Bernar 
 dino da Siena. She handed the paper to the Prince, and 
 then read the extract from the register of the Civil mar 
 riage and the notary's attestation to the signatures. She 
 gave this also to old Saracinesca, and then folding her 
 arms in a fine attitude, confronted the three. 
 
 " Are you satisfied that I spoke the truth ? " she asked, 
 defiantly. 
 
 "The thing is certainly remarkably well done," an 
 swered the old Prince, who scrutinised the papers with 
 a puzzled air. Though he knew perfectly well that his 
 son had been in Canada at the time of this pretended 
 marriage, he confessed to himself that if such evidence 
 had been brought against any other man, he would have 
 believed it. 
 
 " It is a shameful fraud ! " exclaimed Corona, looking 
 at the papers over the old man's shoulder. 
 
 " That is a lie ! " cried Donna Tullia, growing scarlet 
 with anger. 
 
 "Do not forget your manners, or you will get into 
 
SARACINESCA. 371 
 
 trouble/' said Giovanni, sternly. "I see through the 
 whole thing. There has been no fraud, and yet the de 
 ductions are entirely untrue. In the first place, Donna 
 Tullia, how do you make the statements here given to 
 coincide with the fact that during the whole summer of 
 1863 and during the early part of 1864 I was in Canada 
 with a party of gentlemen, who are all alive to testify 
 to the fact?" 
 
 "I do not believe it," answered Madame Mayer, con 
 temptuously. " I would not believe your friends if they 
 were here and swore to it. You will very likely produce 
 witnesses to prove that you were in the arctic regions 
 last summer, as the newspapers said, whereas every one 
 knows now that you were at Saracinesca. You are ex 
 ceedingly clever at concealing your movements, as we all 
 know." 
 
 Giovanni did not lose his temper, but calmly proceeded 
 to demonstrate his theory. 
 
 " You will find that the courts of law will accept the 
 evidence of gentlemen upon oath," he replied, quietly. 
 " Moreover, as a further evidence, and a piece of very 
 singular proof, I can probably produce Giovanni Sara 
 cinesca and Felice Baldi themselves to witness against you. 
 And I apprehend that the said Giovanni Saracinesca will 
 vehemently protest that the said Felice Baldi is his wife, 
 and not mine." 
 
 " You speak in wonderful riddles, but you will not de 
 ceive me. Money will doubtless do much, but it will not 
 do what you expect." 
 
 " Certainly not," returned Giovanni, unmoved by her 
 reply. " Money will certainly not create out of nothing a 
 second Giovanni Saracinesca, nor his circle of acquaint 
 ances, nor the police registers concerning him which are 
 kept throughout the kingdom of Italy, very much as they 
 are kept here in the Pontifical States.- Money will do 
 none of these things." 
 
 While he was speaking, his father and the Duchessa 
 listened with intense interest. 
 
372 SARACINESCA. 
 
 " Donna Tullia," continued Giovanni, " I am willing to 
 believe from your manner that you are really sure that I 
 am the man mentioned in your papers ; but permit me to 
 inform you that you have been made the victim of a shal 
 low trick, probably by the person who gave those same 
 papers into your hands, and suggested to you the use you 
 have made of them." 
 
 " I ? I, the victim of a trick ? " repeated Donna Tullia, 
 frightened at last by his obstinately calm mannner. 
 
 "Yes," he replied. "I know Aquila and the Abruzzi 
 very well. It chances that although we, the Saracinesca 
 of K-ome, are not numerous, the name is not uncommon in 
 that part of the country. It is the same with all our 
 great names. There are Colonna, Orsini, Caetani all over 
 the country there are even many families bearing the 
 name of the Medici, who are extinct. You know it as 
 well as I, or you should know it, for I believe your mother 
 was my father's cousin. Has it not struck you that this 
 same Giovanni Saracinesca herein mentioned, is simply 
 some low-born namesake of mine ? " 
 
 Donna Tullia had grown very pale, and she leaned upon 
 the table as though she were faint. The others listened 
 breathlessly. 
 
 " I do not believe it," said Madame Mayer, in a low and 
 broken voice. 
 
 "Now I will tell you what I will do," continued Gio 
 vanni. " I will go to Aquila at once, and I daresay my 
 father will accompany me " 
 
 " Of course I will," broke in the old Prince. 
 
 " We will go, and in a fortnight's time we will produce 
 the whole history of this Giovanni Saracinesca, together 
 with his wife and himself in his own person, if they are 
 both alive ; we will bring them here, and they will assure 
 you that you have been egregiously deceived, played upon 
 and put in a false position by by the person who furnished 
 you with these documents. I wonder that any Roman of 
 common-sense should not have seen at once the cause of 
 this mistake." 
 
SARACINESCA. 873 
 
 "I cannot believe it," murmured Donna Tullia. Then 
 raising her voice, she added, " Whatever may be the re 
 sult of your inquiry, I cannot but feel that I have done my 
 duty in this affair. I do not believe in your theory, nor 
 in you, and I shall not, until you produce this other man. 
 I have done my duty " 
 
 " An exceedingly painful one, no doubt," remarked old 
 Saracinesca. Then he broke into a loud peal of laughter. 
 
 " And if you do not succeed in your search, it will be 
 my duty, in the interests of society, to put the matter in 
 the hands of the police. Since you have the effrontery 
 to say that those papers are of no use, I demand them 
 back. 77 
 
 " Not at all, madam," replied the Prince, whose laughter 
 subsided at the renewed boldness of her tone. " I will 
 not give them back to you. I intend to compare them 
 with the originals. 'If there are no originals, they will 
 serve very well to commit the notary whose seal is on 
 them, and yourself, upon a well-founded indictment for 
 forgery, wilful calumniation, and a whole list of crimes 
 sufficient to send you to the galleys for life. If, on the 
 other hand, the originals exist, they can be of no possible 
 value to you, as you can send to Aquila and have fresh 
 copies made whenever you please, as you yourself in 
 formed me." 
 
 Things were taking a bad turn for Donna Tullia. She 
 believed the papers to be genuine, but a fearful doubt 
 crossed her mind that Del Ferice might possibly have 
 deceived her by having them manufactured. Anybody 
 could buy Government paper, and it would be but a sim 
 ple matter to have a notary's seal engraved. She was 
 terrified at the idea, but there was no possibility of get 
 ting the documents back from the old Prince, who held 
 them firmly in his broad brown hand. There was nothing 
 to be done but to face the situation out to the end and go. 
 
 "As you please," she said. "It is natural that you 
 should insult me, a defenceless woman trying to do what 
 is right. It is worthy of your race and reputation. I will 
 
374 SARACINESCA. 
 
 leave you to the consideration of the course you intend to 
 follow, and I advise you to omit nothing which can help 
 to prove the innocence of your son." 
 
 Donna Tullia bestowed one more glance of contemp 
 tuous defiance upon the group, and brushed angrily out 
 of the room. 
 
 " So much for her madness ! " exclaimed Giovanni, when 
 she was gone. " I think I have got to the bottom of that 
 affair." 
 
 " It seems so simple, and yet I never thought of it," said 
 Corona. " How clever you are, Giovanni ! " 
 
 " There was not much cleverness needed to see through 
 so shallow a trick," replied Giovanni. " I suspected it this 
 morning ; and when I saw that the documents were genuine 
 and all in order, I was convinced of it. This thing has 
 been done by Del Ferice, I suppose in order to revenge 
 himself upon me for nearly killing him in fair fight. It 
 was a noble plan. With a little more intelligence and a 
 little more pains, he could have given me great trouble. 
 Certificates like those he produced, if they had come from 
 a remote French village in Canada, would have given us 
 occupation for some time." 
 
 "I wish Donna Tullia joy of her husband," remarked 
 the Prince. " He will spend her money in a year or two, 
 and then leave her to the contemplation of his past extrav 
 agance. I wonder how he induced her to consent." 
 
 " Many people like Del Ferice," said Giovanni. " He 
 is popular, and has attractions." 
 
 " How can you say that ! " exclaimed Corona, indig 
 nantly. " You should have a better opinion of women 
 than to think any woman could find attractions in such a 
 man." 
 
 " Nevertheless, Donna Tullia is going to marry him," 
 returned Giovanni. " She must find him to her taste. I 
 used to think she might have married Valdarno he is so 
 good-natured you know ! " 
 
 Giovanni spoke in a tone of reflection j the other two 
 laughed. 
 
SABACINESCA. 375 
 
 " And now, Giovannino," said his father, " we must set 
 out for Aquila, and find your namesake." 
 
 " You will not really go ? " asked Corona, with a look of 
 disappointment. She could not bear the thought of being 
 separated even for a day from the man she loved. 
 
 " I do not see that we can do anything else," returned 
 the Prince. " I must satisfy myself whether those papers 
 are forgeries or not. If they are, that woman must go to 
 prison for them." 
 
 "But she is our cousin you cannot do that," objected 
 Giovanni. 
 
 " Indeed I will. I am angry. Do not try to stop me. 
 Do you suppose I care anything for the relationship in 
 comparison with repaying her for all this trouble ? You 
 are not going to turn merciful, Giovanni ? I should not 
 recognise you." 
 
 There was a sort of mournful reproach about the old 
 Prince's tone, as though he were reproving his son for 
 having fallen from the paths of virtue. Corona laughed; 
 she was not hard-hearted, but she was not so angelic of 
 nature as to be beyond feeling deep and lasting resent 
 ment for injuries received. At that moment the idea of 
 bringing Donna Tullia to justice was pleasant. 
 
 " Well," said Giovanni, " no human being can boast of 
 having ever prevented you from doing whatever you were 
 determined to do. The best thing that can happen will be, 
 that you should find the papers genuine, and my namesake 
 alive. I wish Aquila were Florence or Naples," he added, 
 turning to Corona ; " you might manage to go at the same 
 time." 
 
 " That is impossible," she answered, sadly. " How long 
 will you be gone, do you think ? " 
 
 Giovanni did not believe that, if the papers were genu 
 ine, and if they had to search for the man mentioned in 
 them, they could return in less than a fortnight. 
 
 "Why not send a detective a sbirro t" suggested 
 Corona. 
 
 " He could not accomplish any thing," replied the Prince. 
 
376 SARACINESCA. 
 
 " He would be at a great disadvantage there ; we must go 
 ourselves." 
 
 "Both?" asked Corona, regretfully, gazing at Gio 
 vanni's face. 
 
 " It is my business," replied the latter. " I can hardly 
 ask my father to go alone." 
 
 " Absurd ! " exclaimed the old Prince, resenting the idea 
 that he needed any help to accomplish his mission. " Do 
 you think I need some one to take care of me, like a baby 
 in arms ? I will go alone ; you shall not come even if you 
 wish it. Absurd, to talk of my needing anybody with 
 me ! I will show you what your father can do when his 
 blood is up." 
 
 Protestations were useless after that. The old man 
 grew angry at the opposition, and, regardless of all pro 
 priety, seized his hat and left the room, growling that he 
 was as good as anybody, and a great deal better. 
 
 Corona and Giovanni looked at each other when he 
 was gone, and smiled. 
 
 " I believe my father is the best man alive," said Gio 
 vanni. " He would go in a moment if I would let him. 
 I will go after him and bring him back I suppose I 
 ought." 
 
 " I suppose so," answered Corona ; but as they stood 
 side by side, she passed her hand under his arm affec 
 tionately, and looked into his eyes. It was a very tender 
 look, very loving and gentle such a look as none but 
 Giovanni had ever seen upon her face. He put his arm 
 about her waist and drew her to him, and kissed her dark 
 cheek. 
 
 " I cannot bear to go away and leave you, even for a 
 day," he said, pressing her to his side. 
 
 " Why should you ? " she murmured, looking up to 
 him. "Why should he go, after all? This has been 
 such a silly affair. I wonder if that woman thought that 
 anything could ever come between you and me ? That 
 was what made me think she was really mad." 
 
 "And an excellent reason," he answered. "Anybody 
 
SAKACINESCA. 377 
 
 must be insane who dreams of parting us two. It seems 
 as though a year ago I had not loved you at all." 
 
 " I am so glad," said Corona. " Do you remember, last 
 summer, on the tower at Saracinesca, I told you that you 
 did not know what love was ? " 
 
 " It was true, Corona I did not know. But I thought 
 I did. I never imagined what the happiness of love was, 
 nor how great it was, nor how it could enter into every 
 thought." 
 
 "Into every thought ? Into your great thoughts too ? " 
 
 "If any thoughts of mine are great, they are so because 
 you are the mainspring of them," he answered. 
 
 "Will it always be so ?" she asked. "You will be a 
 very great man some day, Giovanni ; will you always feel 
 that I am something to you ? " 
 
 " Always more than anything to me, more than all of 
 me together." 
 
 "I sometimes wonder," said Corona. "I think I under 
 stand you better than I used to do. I like to think that 
 you feel how I understand you when you tell me any 
 thing. Of course I am not clever like you, but I love 
 you so much that just while you are talking I seem to 
 understand everything. It is like a flash of light in a 
 dark room." 
 
 Giovanni kissed her again. 
 
 " What makes you think that I shall be great, Corona ? 
 Nobody ever thinks I am even clever. My father would 
 laugh at you, and say it is quite enough greatness to be 
 born a Saracinesca. What makes you think it ? " 
 
 Corona stood up beside him and laid her delicate hand 
 upon his thick, close-cut black hair, and gazed into his 
 eyes. 
 
 " I know it," she said. " I know it, because I love you 
 so. A man like you must be great. There is something 
 in you that nobody guesses but I, that will amaze people 
 some day I know it." 
 
 " I wonder if you could tell me what it is ? I wonder 
 if it is really there at all ? " said Giovanni. 
 
378 SAKACINESCA. 
 
 " It is ambition/' said Corona, gravely. " You are the 
 most ambitious man I ever knew, and nobody has found 
 it out." 
 
 "I believe it is true, Corona," said Giovanni, turning 
 away and leaning upon the chimneypiece, his head sup 
 ported on one hand. " I believe you are right. I am 
 ambitious : if I only had the brains that some men have 
 I would do great things." 
 
 "You are wrong, Giovanni. It is neither brains nor 
 ambition nor strength that you lack it is opportunity." 
 
 " They say that a man who has anything in him creates 
 opportunities for himself," answered Giovanni, rather 
 sadly. " I fear it is because I really have nothing in me 
 that I can do nothing. It sometimes makes me very 
 unhappy to think so. I suppose that is because my 
 vanity is wounded." 
 
 "Do not talk like that," said Corona. "You have 
 vanity, of course, but it is of the large kind, and I call it 
 ambition. It is not only because I love you better than 
 any man was ever loved before that I say that. It is that 
 I know it instinctively. I have heard you say that these 
 are unsettled times. Wait ; your opportunity will come, 
 as it came often to your forefathers in other centuries." 
 
 " I hardly think that their example is a good one," 
 replied Giovanni, with a smile. 
 
 " They generally did something remarkable in remark 
 able times," said Corona. "You will do the same. Your 
 father, for instance, would not." 
 
 "He is far more clever than I," objected Giovanni. 
 
 "Clever! It passes for cleverness. He is quick, active, 
 a good talker, a man with a ready wit and a sharp answer 
 kind-hearted when the fancy takes him, cruel when he 
 is so disposed but not a man of great convictions or of 
 great actions. You are very different from him." 
 
 "Will you draw my portrait, Corona ? " asked Giovanni. 
 
 " As far as I know you. You are a man quick to think 
 and slow to make a decision. You are not brilliant in 
 conversation you see I do not flatter you; I am just. 
 
SARACINESCA. 379 
 
 You have the very remarkable quality of growing cold 
 when others grow hot, and of keeping the full use of 
 your faculties in any situation. When you have made a 
 decision, you cannot be moved from it ; but you are open 
 to conviction in argument. You have a great repose of 
 manner, which conceals a very restless brain. All your 
 passions are very strong. You never forgive, never forget, 
 and scarcely ever repent. Beneath all, you have an un 
 tamable ambition which has not yet found its proper field. 
 Those are your qualities and I love them all, and you 
 more than them all." 
 
 Corona finished her speech by throwing her arms round 
 his neck, and breaking into a happy laugh as she buried 
 her face upon his shoulder. No one who saw her in the 
 world would have believed her capable of those sudden and 
 violent demonstrations she was thought so very cold. 
 
 When Giovanni reached home, he was informed that his 
 father had left Koine an hour earlier by the train for 
 Terni, leaving word that he had gone to Aquila. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 In those days the railroad did not extend beyond Terni 
 in the direction of Aquila, and it was necessary to per 
 form the journey of forty miles between those towns by 
 diligence. It was late in the afternoon of the next day 
 before the cumbrous coach rolled up to the door of the 
 Locanda del Sole in Aquila, and Prince Saracinesca 
 found himself at his destination. The red evening sun 
 gilded the snow of the Gran Sasso d'ltalia, the huge 
 domed mountain that towers above the city of Frederick. 
 The city itself had long been in the shade, and the spring 
 air was sharp and biting. Saracinesca deposited his 
 slender luggage with the portly landlord, said he would 
 return for supper in half an hour, and inquired the way 
 
380 SARACINESCA. 
 
 to the church of San Bernardino da Siena. There was 
 no difficulty in finding it, at the end of the Corso the 
 inevitable "Corso" of every Italian town. The old 
 gentleman walked briskly along the broad, clean street, 
 and reached the door of the church just as the sacristan 
 was hoisting the heavy leathern curtain, preparatory to 
 locking up for the night. 
 
 " Where can I find the Padre Curato ? " inquired the 
 Prince. The man looked at him but made no answer, and 
 proceeded to close the doors with great care. He was an 
 old man in a shabby cassock, with four days' beard on 
 his face, and he appeared to have taken snuff recently. 
 
 " Where is the Curator ? " repeated the Prince, pluck 
 ing him by the sleeve. But the man shook his head, and 
 began turning the ponderous key in the lock. Two little 
 ragged boys were playing a game upon the church steps, 
 piling five chestnuts in a heap and then knocking them 
 down with a small stone. One of them having upset the 
 heap, desisted and came near the Prince. 
 
 " That one is deaf," he said, pointing to the sacristan. 
 Then running behind him he stood on tiptoe and screamed 
 in his ear " Brutta bestia ! " 
 
 The sacristan did not hear, but caught sight of the urchin 
 and made a lunge at him. He missed him, however, and 
 nearly fell over. 
 
 " What education ! che educazione !" cried the old man, 
 angrily. 
 
 Meanwhile the little boy took refuge behind Saracinesca, 
 and pulling his coat asked for a soldo. The sacristan calmly 
 withdrew the key from the lock, and went away without 
 vouchsafing a look to the Prince. 
 
 " He is deaf," screamed the little boy, who was now 
 joined by his companion, and both in great excitement 
 danced round the fine gentleman. 
 
 " Give me a soldo," they yelled together. 
 
 " Show me the house of the Padre Curato," answered 
 the Prince, " then I will give you each a soldo. Lesti ! 
 Quick ! " 
 
SAEACINESCA. 381 
 
 Whereupon both the boys began turning cart-wheels on 
 their feet and hands with marvellous dexterity. At last 
 they subsided into a natural position, and led the way to 
 the curate's house, not twenty yards from the church, in a 
 narrow alley. The Prince pulled the bell by the long chain 
 which hung beside the open street door, and gave the boys 
 the promised coppers. They did not leave him, however, 
 but stood by to see what would happen. An old woman 
 looked out of an upper window, and after surveying the 
 Prince with care, called down to him 
 
 " What do you want ? " 
 
 "Is the Padre Curato at home ? " 
 
 " Of course he is at home," screamed the old woman. 
 " At this hour ! " she added, contemptuously. 
 
 " Ebbene can I see him ? " 
 
 " What ! is the door shut ? " returned the hag. 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Then why don't you come up without asking ? " The 
 old woman's head disappeared, and the window was shut 
 with a clattering noise. 
 
 "She is a woman without education," remarked one 
 of the ragged boys, making a face towards the closed 
 window. 
 
 The Prince entered the door and stumbled up the dark 
 stairs, and after some further palaver obtained admittance 
 to the curate's lodging. The curate sat in a room which 
 appeared to serve as dining-room, living-room, and study. 
 A small table was spread with a clean cloth, upon which 
 were arranged a plate, a loaf of bread, a battered spoon, a 
 knife, and a small measure of thin-looking wine. A brass 
 lamp with three wicks, one of which only was burning, 
 shed a feeble light through the poor apartment. Against 
 the wall stood a rough table with an inkstand and three or 
 four mouldy books. Above this hung a little black cross 
 bearing a brass Christ, and above this again a coloured 
 print of San Bernardino of Siena. The walls were white 
 washed, and perfectly clean, as indeed was everything 
 else in the room, and there was a sweet smell of flowers 
 
 Vol. 1017 
 
382 SARACINESCA. 
 
 from a huge pot of pinks which had been taken in for 
 the night, and stood upon the stone sill within the closed 
 window. 
 
 The curate was a tall old man, with a singularly gentle 
 face and soft brown eyes. He wore a threadbare cassock, 
 carefully brushed ; and from beneath his three-cornered 
 black cap his thin hair hung in a straight grey fringe. 
 As the Prince entered the room, the old woman called 
 over his shoulder to the priest an uncertain formula of 
 introduction. 
 
 " Don Paolo, c' uno there is one." Then she retired, 
 grumbling audibly. 
 
 The priest removed his cap, and bowing politely, offered 
 one of the two chairs to his visitor. With an apology, he 
 replaced his cap upon his head, and seated himself opposite 
 the Prince. There was much courteous simplicity in his 
 manner. 
 
 " In what way can I serve you, Signore ? " he asked. 
 
 " These papers," answered the Prince, drawing the fam 
 ous envelope from his breast-pocket, " are copies of certain 
 documents in your keeping, relating to the supposed mar 
 riage of one Giovanni Saracinesca. With your very kind 
 permission, I desire to see the originals." 
 
 The old curate bowed, as though giving his assent, and 
 looked steadily at his visitor for a moment before he 
 answered. 
 
 "There is nothing simpler, my good sir. You will 
 pardon me, however, if I venture to inquire your name, 
 and to ask you for what purpose you desire to consult 
 the documents ? " 
 
 " I am Leone Saracinesca of Eome " 
 
 The priest started uneasily. 
 
 " A relation of Giovanni Saracinesca ? " he inquired. 
 Then he added immediately, "Will you kindly excuse 
 me for one moment ? " and left the room abruptly. The 
 Prince was considerably astonished, but he held his papers 
 firmly in his hand, and did not move from his seat. The 
 curate returned in a few seconds, bringing with him a 
 
SAEACINESCA. 383 
 
 little painted porcelain basket, much, chipped and the 
 worse for age, and which contained a collection of visit 
 ing-cards. There were not more than a score of them, 
 turning brown with accumulated dust. The priest found 
 one which was rather newer than the rest, and after care 
 fully adjusting a pair of huge spectacles upon his nose, 
 he went over to the lamp and examined it. 
 
 "'II Conte del Ferice,'" he read slowly. "Do you 
 happen to know that gentleman, my good sir?" he in 
 quired, turning to the Prince, and looking keenly at him 
 over his glasses. 
 
 " Certainly," answered Saracinesca, beginning to under 
 stand the situation. " I know him very well." 
 
 " Ah, that is good ! " said the priest. " He was here 
 two years ago, and had those same entries concerning 
 Giovanni Saracinesca copied. Probably certainly, in 
 deed the papers you have there are the very ones he 
 took away with him. When he came to see me about it, 
 he gave me this card." 
 
 " I wonder he did," answered Saracinesca. 
 
 " Indeed," replied the curate, after a moment's thought, 
 " I remember that he came the next day yes and asked 
 to have his card returned. But I could not find it for 
 him. There was a hole in one of my pockets it had 
 slipped down. Carmela, my old servant, found it a day 
 or two later in the lining of my cassock. I thought it 
 strange that he should have asked for it." 
 
 "It was very natural. He wished you to forget his 
 existence." 
 
 "He asked me many questions about Giovanni," said 
 the priest, " but I could not answer him at that time." 
 
 " You could answer now ? " inquired the Prince, eagerly. 
 
 "Excuse me, my good sir; what relation are you to 
 Giovanni ? You say you are from Rome ? " 
 
 "Let us understand each other, Signer Curato," said 
 Saracinesca. " I see I had better explain the position. I 
 am Leone Saracinesca, the prince of that name, and the 
 head of the family." The priest bowed respectfully at 
 
384 SARACINESCA. 
 
 this intelligence. " My only son lives with, me in Rome 
 he is now there and his name is Giovanni Saracinesca. 
 He is engaged to be married. When the engagement 
 became known, an enemy of the family attempted to 
 prove, by means of these papers, that he was married 
 already to a certain Felice Baldi. Now I wish to know 
 who this Giovanni Saracinesca is, where he is, and how 
 he comes to have my son's name. I wish a certificate or 
 some proof that he is not my son, that he is alive, or 
 that he is dead and buried." 
 
 The old priest burst into a genial laugh, and rubbed 
 his hands together in delight. 
 
 "My dear sir your Excellency, I mean I baptised 
 Felice Baldi's second baby a fortnight ago ! There is 
 nothing simpler " 
 
 "I knew it!" cried the Prince, springing from his 
 chair in great excitement ; " I knew it ! Where is that 
 baby ? Send and get the baby at once the mother the 
 father everybody ! " 
 
 "Subito! At once or come with me. I will show 
 you the whole family together," said the curate, in inno 
 cent delight. " Splendid children they are, too. Carmela, 
 my cloak sbrigati, be quick ! " 
 
 "One moment," objected Saracinesca, as though sud 
 denly recollecting something. " One moment, Signor 
 Curato ; who goes slowly goes safely. Where does this 
 man come from, and how does he come by his name ? I 
 would like to know something about him before I see him." 
 
 "True," answered the priest, resuming his seat. "I 
 had forgotten. Well, it is not a long story. Giovanni 
 Saracinesca is from Naples. You know there was once 
 a branch of your family in the Neapolitan kingdom at 
 least so Giovanni says, and he is an honest fellow. Their 
 title was Marchese di San Giacinto ; and if Giovanni 
 liked to claim it, he has a right to the title still." 
 
 " But those Saracinesca were extinct fifty years ago," 
 objected the Prince, who knew his family history very 
 well. 
 
SARACINESCA. 385 
 
 " Giovanni says they were not. They were believed 
 to be. The last Marchese di San Giacinto fought undes 
 Napoleon. He lost all he possessed lands, money, every 
 thing by confiscation, when Ferdinand was restored in 
 1815. He was a rough man ; he dropped his title, mar 
 ried a peasant's only daughter, became a peasant himself, 
 and died obscurely in a village near Salerno. He left a 
 son who worked on the farm and inherited it from his 
 mother, married a woman of the village of some educa 
 tion, and died of the cholera, leaving his son, the present 
 Giovanni Saracinesca. This Giovanni received a better 
 education than his father had before him, improved his 
 farm, began to sell wine and oil for exportation, travelled 
 as far as Aquila, and met Felice Baldi, the daughter of a 
 man of some wealth, who has since established an inn 
 here. Giovanni loved her. I married them. He went 
 back to Naples, sold his farm for a good price last year, 
 and returned to Aquila. He manages his father-in-law's 
 inn, which is the second largest here, and drives a good 
 business, having put his own capital into the enterprise. 
 They have two children, the second one of which was 
 born three weeks ago, and they are perfectly happy." 
 
 Saracinesca looked thoughtfully at Don Paolo, the old 
 curate. 
 
 " Has this man any papers to prove the truth of this 
 very singular story ? " he inquired at last. 
 
 "Altrot That was all his grandfather left a heap of 
 parchments. They seem to be in order he showed them 
 to me when I married him." 
 
 " Why does he make no claim to have the attainder of 
 his grandfather reversed ? " 
 
 The curate shrugged his shoulders and spread out the 
 palms of his hands, smiling incredulously. 
 
 "The lands, he says, have fallen into the hands of cer 
 tain patriots. There is no chance of getting them back. 
 It is of little use to be a Marchese without property. 
 What he possesses is a modest competence ; it is wealth, 
 even, in his present position. For a nobleman it would 
 
386 SARACINESCA. 
 
 be nothing. Besides, he is half a peasant by blood and 
 tradition." 
 
 " He is not the only nobleman in that position," laughed 
 Saracinesea. " But are you aware " 
 
 He stopped short. He was going to say that if he 
 himself and his son both died, the innkeeper of Aquila 
 would become Prince Saracinesea. The idea shocked 
 him, and he kept it to himself. 
 
 " After all," he continued, " the man is of my blood by 
 direct descent. I would like to see him." 
 
 "Nothing easier. If you will come with me, I will 
 present him to your Excellency," said the priest. " Do 
 you still wish to see the documents ? " 
 
 " It is useless. The mystery is solved. Let us go and 
 see this new-found relation of mine." 
 
 Don Paolo wrapped his cloak around him, and ushering 
 his guest from the room, led the way down-stairs. He 
 carried a bit of wax taper, which he held low to the steps, 
 frequently stopping and warning the Prince to be care 
 ful. It was night when they went out. The air was 
 sharp and cold, and Saracinesca buttoned his greatcoat to 
 his throat as he strode by the side of the old priest. The 
 two walked on in silence for ten minutes, keeping straight 
 down the Corso Vittorio Emmanuele. At last the curate 
 stopped before a clean, new house, from the windows of 
 which the bright light streamed into the street. Don 
 Paolo motioned to the Prince to enter, and followed him 
 in. A man in a white apron, with his arms full of plates, 
 who was probably servant, butler, boots, and factotum to 
 the establishment, came out of the dining-room, which 
 was to the left of the entrance, and which, to judge by 
 the noise, seemed to be full of people. He looked at the 
 curate, and then at the Prince. 
 
 "Sorry to disappoint you, Don Paolo mto," he said, 
 supposing the priest had brought a customer "very 
 sorry ; there is not a bed in the house." 
 
 "That is no matter, Griacchino," answered the curate. 
 " We want to see Sor Giovanni for a moment." The man 
 
SARACINESCA. 6 
 
 disappeared, and a moment later Sor Giovanni himself 
 came down the passage. 
 
 " Favorisca, dear Don Paolo, come in." And he bowed 
 to the Prince as he opened the door which led into a 
 small sitting-room reserved for the innkeeper's family. 
 
 When they had entered, Saracinesca looked at his son's 
 namesake. He saw before him a man whose face and 
 figure he long remembered with an instinctive dislike. Gio 
 vanni the innkeeper was of a powerful build. Two gener 
 ations of peasant blood had given renewed strength to the 
 old race. He was large, with large bones, vast breadth of 
 shoulder, and massive joints ; lean withal, and brown of 
 face, his high cheek-bones making his cheeks look hollow ; 
 clean shaved, his hair straight and black and neatly 
 combed j piercing black eyes near together, the heavy 
 eyebrows joining together in the midst of his forehead ; 
 thin and cruel lips, now parted in a smile and showing a 
 formidable set of short, white, even teeth ; a prominent 
 square jaw, and a broad, strong nose, rather unnaturally 
 pointed, altogether a striking face, one that would be 
 noticed in a crowd for its strength, but strangely cun 
 ning in expression, and not without ferocity. Years 
 afterwards Saracinesca remembered his first meeting 
 with Giovanni the innkeeper, and did not wonder that 
 his first impulse had been to dislike the man. At pres 
 ent, however, he looked at him with considerable curi 
 osity, and if he disliked him at first sight, he told himself 
 that it was beneath him to show antipathy for an inn 
 keeper. 
 
 "Sor Giovanni," said the curate, "this gentleman is 
 desirous of making your acquaintance." 
 
 Giovanni, whose manners were above his station, bowed 
 politely, and looked inquiringly at his visitor. 
 
 "Signer Saracinesca," said the Prince, "I am Leone 
 Saracinesca of Rome. I have just heard of your existence. 
 We have long believed your family to be extinct I am 
 delighted to find it still represented, and by one who seems 
 likely to perpetuate the name." 
 
388 SAKACINESCA. 
 
 The innkeeper fixed his piercing eyes on the speaker's 
 face, and looked long before he answered. 
 
 " So you are Prince Saracinesca," he said, gravely. 
 
 " And you are the Marchese di San Giacinto," said the 
 Prince, in the same tone, holding out his hand frankly. 
 
 " Pardon me, lam Giovanni Saracinesca, the innkeeper 
 of Aquila," returned the other. But he took the Prince's 
 hand. Then they all sat down. 
 
 " As you please," said the Prince. " The title is none 
 the less yours. If you had signed yourself with it when 
 you married, you would have saved me a vast deal of 
 trouble ; but on the other hand, I should not have been 
 so fortunate as to meet you." 
 
 " I do not understand," said Giovanni. 
 
 The Prince told his story in as few words as possible. 
 
 " Amazing ! extraordinary ! what a chance ! " ejaculated 
 the curate, nodding his old head from time to time while 
 the Prince spoke, as though he had not heard it all before. 
 The innkeeper said nothing until old Saracinesca had 
 finished. 
 
 " I see how it was managed," he said at last. " When 
 that gentleman was making inquiries, I was away. I had 
 taken my wife back to Salerno, and my wife's father had 
 not yet established himself in Aquila. Signor Del what 
 is his name ?" 
 
 " Del Ferice." 
 
 "Del Ferice, exactly. He thought we had disap 
 peared, and were not likely to come back. Or else he 
 is a fool." 
 
 " He is not a fool," said Saracinesca. " He thought he 
 was safe. It is all very clear now. Well, Signor Marchese, 
 or Signor Saracinesca, I am very glad to have made your 
 acquaintance. You have cleared up a very important ques 
 tion by returning to Aquila. It will always give me the 
 greatest pleasure to serve you in any way I can." 
 
 " A thousand thanks. Anything I can do for you dur 
 ing your stay " 
 
 ft You are very kind. I will hire horses and return to 
 
SARACINESCA. 38,, 
 
 Terni to-night. My business in Rome is urgent. There 
 is some suspense there in my absence." 
 
 " You will drink a glass before going ? " asked Gio 
 vanni ; and without waiting for an answer, he strode from 
 the room. 
 
 " And what does your Excellency think of your rela 
 tion ? " asked the curate, when he was alone with the 
 Prince. 
 
 "A terrible -look ing fellow! But " The Prince 
 
 made a face and a gesture indicating a question in regard 
 to the innkeeper's character. 
 
 " Oh, do not be afraid," answered the priest. " He is 
 the most honest man alive." 
 
 " Of course," returned the Prince, politely, " you have 
 had many occasions of ascertaining that." 
 
 Giovanni, the innkeeper, returned with a bottle of wine 
 and three glasses, which he placed upon the table, and 
 proceeded to fill. 
 
 "By the by," said the Prince, "in the excitement I 
 forgot to inquire for your Signora. She is well, I 
 hope ? " 
 
 "Thank you she is very well," replied Giovanni, 
 shortly. 
 
 "A boy, I have no doubt ? " 
 
 " A splendid boy," answered the curate. " Sor Gio 
 vanni has a little girl, too. He is a very happy man." 
 
 " Your health," said the innkeeper, holding up his glass 
 to the light. 
 
 " And yours," returned the Prince. 
 
 " And of all the Saracinesca family," said the curate, 
 sipping his wine slowly. He rarely got a glass of old 
 Lacrima, and he enjoyed it thoroughly. 
 
 " And now," said the Prince, " I must be off. Many 
 thanks for your hospitality. I shall always remember 
 with pleasure the day when I met an unknown relation." 
 
 " The Albergo di Napoli will not forget that Prince 
 Saracinesca has been its guest," replied Giovanni politely, 
 a smile upon his thin lips. He shook hands with both 
 
390 SARACINESCA. 
 
 his guests, and ushered them out to the door with a cour 
 teous bow. Before they had gone twenty yards in the 
 street, the Prince looked back and caught a last glimpse 
 of Giovanni's towering figure, standing upon the steps 
 with the bright light falling upon it from within. He 
 remembered that impression long. 
 
 At the door of his own inn he took leave of the good 
 curate with many expressions of thanks, and with many 
 invitations to the Palazzo Saracinesca, in case the old man 
 ever visited Borne. 
 
 " I have never seen Eome, your Excellency," answered 
 the priest, rather sadly. " I am an old man I shall ne^er 
 see it now." 
 
 So they parted, and the Prince had a solitary supper of 
 pigeons and salad in the great dusky hall of the Locanda 
 del Sole, while his horses were being got ready for the 
 long night-journey. 
 
 The meeting and the whole clearing up of the curious 
 difficulty had produced a profound impression upon the 
 old Prince. He had not the slightest doubt but that the 
 story of the curate was perfectly accurate. It was all so 
 very probable, too. In the wild times between 1806 and 
 1815 the last of the Neapolitan branch of the Saracinesca 
 had disappeared, and the rich and powerful Roman 
 princes of the name had been quite willing to believe the 
 Marchesi di San Giacinto extinct. They had not even 
 troubled themselves to claim the title, for they possessed 
 more than fifty of their own, and there was no chance of 
 recovering the San Giacinto estate, already mortgaged, 
 and more than half squandered at the time of the confis 
 cation. That the rough soldier of fortune should have 
 hidden himself in his native country after the return of 
 Ferdinand, his lawful king, against whom he had fought, 
 was natural enough ; as it was also natural that, with his 
 rough nature, he should accommodate himself to a peas 
 ant's life, and marry a peasant's only daughter, with her 
 broad acres of orange and olive and vine land ; for peas 
 ants in the far south were often rich, and their daughters 
 
SARACINESCA. 391 
 
 were generally beautiful a very different race from the 
 starved tenants of the Roman Campagna. 
 
 The Prince decided that the story was perfectly true, 
 and he reflected somewhat bitterly that unless his son had 
 heirs after him, this herculean innkeeper of Aquila was the 
 lawful successor to his own title, and to all the Saracinesca 
 lands. He determined that Giovanni's marriage should 
 not be delayed another day, and with his usual impetu 
 osity he hastened back to Rome, hardly remembering that 
 he had spent the previous night and all that day upon the 
 road, and that he had another twenty-four hours of travel 
 before him. 
 
 At dawn his carriage stopped at a little town not far 
 from the papal frontier. Just as the vehicle was starting, 
 a large man, muffled in a huge cloak, from the folds of 
 which protruded the long brown barrel of a rifle, put his 
 head into the window. The Prince started and grasped 
 his revolver, which lay beside him on the seat. 
 
 " Good morning, Prince," said the man. " I hope you 
 have slept well." 
 
 " Sor Giovanni ! " exclaimed the old gentleman. " Where 
 did you drop from ? " 
 
 " The roads are not very safe," returned the innkeeper. 
 " So I thought it best to accompany you. Good-bye 
 buon viaggio ! " 
 
 Before the Prince could answer, the carriage rolled off, 
 the horses springing forward at a gallop. Saracinesca 
 put his head out of the window, but his namesake had 
 disappeared, and he rolled on towards Terni, wondering 
 at the innkeeper's anxiety for his safety. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 Even old Saracinesca's iron strength was in need of rest 
 when, at the end of forty-eight hours, he again entered 
 his son's rooms, and threw himself upon the great divan. 
 
 " How is Corona ? " was his first question. 
 
392 SARACINESCA. 
 
 " She is very anxious about you," returned Giovanni, 
 who was himself considerably disturbed. 
 
 " We will go and set her mind at rest as soon as I have 
 had something to eat/' said his father. 
 
 "It is all right, then ? It was just as I said a name 
 sake ? " 
 
 " Precisely. Only the namesake happens to be a cousin 
 the last of the San Giacinto, who keeps an inn in Aquila. 
 I saw him, and shook hands with him." 
 
 " Impossible ! " exclaimed Giovanni. " They are all 
 extinct " 
 
 " There has been a resurrection," returned the Prince. 
 He told the whole story of his journey, graphically and 
 quickly. 
 
 " That is a very extraordinary tale," remarked Giovanni, 
 thoughtfully. "So, if I die without children the inn 
 keeper will be prince." 
 
 " Precisely. And now, Giovanni, you must be married 
 next week." 
 
 " As soon as you please to-morrow if you like." 
 
 " What shall we do with Del Ferice ? " asked the old 
 prince. 
 
 "Ask him to the wedding," answered Giovanni, mag 
 nanimously. 
 
 " The wedding will have to be a very quiet one, I sup 
 pose," remarked his father, thoughtfully. " The year is 
 hardly over " 
 
 " The more quiet the better, provided it is done quickly. 
 Of course we must consult Corona at once." 
 
 "Do you suppose I am going to fix the wedding-day 
 without consulting her?" asked the old man. "For 
 heaven's sake order dinner, and let us be quick about it." 
 
 The Prince was evidently in a hurry, and moreover, he 
 was tired and very hungry. An hour later, as both the 
 men sat over the coffee in the dining-room, his mood was 
 mellower. A dinner at home has a wonderful effect upon 
 the temper of a man who has travelled and fared badly 
 for eight-and-forty hours. , 
 
SARACINESCA. 393 
 
 " Giovannino," said old Saracinesca, "have you any 
 idea what the Cardinal thinks of your marriage ? " 
 
 "No; and I do not care," answered the younger man. 
 " He once advised me not to marry Donna Tullia. He 
 has not seen me often since then." 
 
 "I have an idea that it will please him immensely," 
 said the Prince. 
 
 " It would be very much the same if it displeased him." 
 
 "Very much the same. Have you seen Corona to 
 day ? " 
 
 "Yes of course," answered Giovanni. 
 
 "What is the use of my going with you this even 
 ing?" asked his father, suddenly. "I should think you 
 could manage your own affairs without my help." 
 
 " I thought that as you have taken so much trouble, 
 you would enjoy telling her the story yourself." 
 
 "Do you think I am a vain fool, sir, to be amused by 
 a woman's praise ? Nonsense ! Go yourself." 
 
 " By all means," answered Giovanni. He was used to 
 his father's habit of being quarrelsome over trifles, and 
 he was much too happy to take any notice of it now. 
 
 " You are tired," he continued. " I am sure you have 
 a right to be. You must want to go to bed." 
 
 "To bed indeed!" growled the old man. " Tired! 
 You think I am good for nothing; I know you do. 
 You look upon me as a doting old cripple. I tell you, 
 boy, I can " 
 
 " For heaven's sake, padre mio, do precisely as you are 
 inclined. I never said: " 
 
 " Never said what ? Why are you always quarrelling 
 with me ? " roared his father, who had not lost his tem 
 per for two days, and missed his favourite exercise. 
 
 " What day shall we fix upon ? " asked Giovanni, un 
 moved. 
 
 "Day! Any day. What do I care? Oh! well, 
 since you speak of it, you might say a week from Sunday. 
 To-day is Friday. But I do not care in the least." 
 
 " Very well if Corona can get ready." 
 
394 SAEACINESCA. 
 
 " She shall be ready she must be ready ! " answered 
 the old gentleman, in a tone of conviction. "Why 
 should she not be ready, I would like to know ? " 
 
 "No reason whatever," said Giovanni, with unusual 
 mildness. 
 
 "Of course not. There is never any reason in any 
 thing you say, you unreasonable boy." 
 
 "Never, of course." Giovanni rose to go, biting his 
 lips to keep down a laugh. 
 
 " What the devil do you mean by always agreeing with 
 me, you impertinent scapegrace ? And you are laughing, 
 too laughing at me, sir, as I live ! Upon my word ! " 
 
 Giovanni turned his back and lighted a cigar. Then, 
 without looking round, he walked towards the door. 
 
 " Giovannino," called the Prince. 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "I feel better now. I wanted to abuse somebody. 
 Look here wait a moment." He rose quickly, and left 
 the room. 
 
 Giovanni sat down and smoked rather impatiently, 
 looking at his watch from time to time. In five minutes 
 his father returned, bringing in his hand an old red 
 morocco case. 
 
 "Give it to her with my compliments, my boy," he 
 said. " They are some of your mother's diamonds just 
 a few of them. She shall have the rest on the wedding- 
 day." 
 
 "Thank you," said Giovanni, and pressed his father's 
 hand. 
 
 " And give her my love, and say I will call to-morrow 
 at two o'clock," added the Prince, now perfectly serene. 
 
 With the diamonds under his arm, Giovanni went out. 
 The sky was clear and frosty, and the stars shone 
 brightly, high up between the tall houses of the narrow 
 street. Giovanni had not ordered a carriage, and seeing 
 how fine the night was, he decided to walk to his desti 
 nation. It was not eight o'clock, and Corona would have 
 scarcely finished dinner at that hour. He walked 
 
SARACINESCA. 395 
 
 slowly. As he emerged into the Piazza di Venezia some 
 one overtook him. 
 
 " Good evening, Prince/' Giovanni turned, and recog 
 nised Anastase Gouache, the Zouave. 
 
 " Ah, Gouache how are you ? " 
 
 " I am going to pay you a visit," answered the French 
 man. 
 
 "I am very sorry I have just left home," returned 
 Giovanni, in some surprise. 
 
 "Not at your house," continued Anastase. " My com 
 pany is ordered to the mountains. We leave to-morrow 
 morning for Subiaco, and some of us are to be quartered 
 at Saracinesca." 
 
 "I hope you will be among the number," said Gio 
 vanni. "I shall probably be married next week, and the 
 Duchessa wishes to go at once to the mountains. We 
 shall be delighted to see you." 
 
 "Thank you very much. I will not fail to do myself 
 the honour. My homage to Madame la Duchesse. I 
 must turn here. Good night." 
 
 " Au revoir," said Giovanni, and went on his way. 
 
 He found Corona in an inner sitting-room, reading be 
 side a great wood-fire. There were soft shades of lilac 
 mingled with the black of her dress. The year of mourn 
 ing was past, and so soon as she could she modified her 
 widow's weeds into something less solemnly black. It 
 was impossible to wear funeral robes on the eve of her 
 second marriage ; and the world had declared that she had 
 shown an extraordinary degree of virtue in mourning so 
 long for a death which every one considered so highly ap 
 propriate. Corona, however, felt differently. To her, her 
 dead husband and the man she now so wholly loved be 
 longed to two totally distinct classes of men. Her love, 
 her marriage with Giovanni, seemed so natural a conse 
 quence of her being left alone so absolutely removed 
 from her former life that, on the eve of her wedding, 
 she could almost wish that poor old Astrardente were alive 
 to look as her friend upon her new-found happiness. 
 
396 SAKACINESCA. 
 
 She welcomed Giovanni with a bright smile. She had 
 not expected him that evening, for he had been with her 
 all the afternoon. She sprang to her feet and came quickly 
 to meet him. She almost unconsciously took the morocco 
 case from his hands, not looking at it, and hardly noticing 
 what she did. 
 
 " My father has come back. It is all settled ! " cried 
 Giovanni. 
 
 " So soon ! He must have flown ! " said she, making 
 him sit down. 
 
 " Yes, he has never rested, and he has found out all 
 about it. It is a most extraordinary story. By the by, 
 he sends you affectionate messages, and begs you to ac 
 cept these diamonds. They were my mother's," he added, 
 his voice softening and changing. Corona understood his 
 tone, and perhaps realised, too, how very short the time 
 now was. She opened the case carefully. 
 
 " They are very beautiful ; your mother wore them, 
 Giovanni ? " She looked lovingly at him, and then bend 
 ing down kissed the splendid coronet as though in rever 
 ence of the dead Spanish woman who had borne the man 
 she loved. Whereat Giovanni stole to her side, and kissed 
 her own dark hair very tenderly. 
 
 " I was to tell you that there are a great many more," 
 he said, " which my father will offer you on the wedding- 
 day." Then he kneeled down beside her, and raising the 
 crown from its case, set it with both his hands upon her 
 diadem of braids. 
 
 " My princess ! " he exclaimed. " How beautiful you 
 are ! " He took the great necklace, and clasped it about 
 her white throat. " Of course," he said, " you have such 
 splendid jewels of your own, perhaps you hardly care for 
 these and the rest. But I like to see you with them it 
 makes me feel that you are really mine." 
 
 Corona smiled happily, and gently took the coronet from 
 her head, returning it to its case. She let the necklace 
 remain about her throat. 
 
 " You have not told me about your father's discovery," 
 she said, suddenly. 
 
SARACINESCA. 397 
 
 "Yes I will tell you." 
 
 In a few minutes he communicated to her the details 
 of the journey. She listened with profound interest. 
 
 " It is very strange," she said. "And yet it is so very 
 natural." 
 
 " You see it is all Del Fence's doing," said Giovanni. 
 " I suppose it was really an accident in the first place ; but 
 he managed to make a great deal of it. It is certainly 
 very amusing to find that the last of the other branch is 
 an innkeeper in the Abruzzi. However, I daresay we 
 shall never hear of him again. He does not seem inclined 
 to claim his title. Corona mia, I have something much 
 more serious to say to you to-night." 
 
 "What is it ? " she asked, turning her great dark eyes 
 rather wonderingly to his face. 
 
 " There is no reason why we should not be married, 
 now " 
 
 " Do you think I ever believed there was ? " she asked, 
 reproachfully. 
 
 " No, dear. Only would you mind its being very 
 soon ? " 
 
 The dark blood rose slowly to her cheek, but she 
 answered without any hesitation. She was too proud to 
 hesitate. 
 
 " Whenever you please, Giovanni. Only it must be very 
 quiet, and we will go straight to Saracinesca. If you agree 
 to those two things, it shall be as soon as you please." 
 
 " Next week ? A week from Sunday ? " asked Giovanni, 
 eagerly. 
 
 "Yes a week from Sunday. I would rather not go 
 through the ordeal of a long engagement. I cannot bear 
 to have every one here, congratulating me from morning 
 till night, as they insist upon doing." 
 
 " I will send the people out to Saracinesca to-morrow," 
 said Giovanni, in great delight. "They have been at 
 work all winter, making the place respectable." 
 
 " Not changing, I hope ? " exclaimed Corona, who dearly 
 loved the old grey walls. 
 
398 SABACINESCA. 
 
 " Only repairing the state apartments. By the by, I 
 met Gouache this evening. He is going out with a com 
 pany of Zouaves to hunt the brigands, if there really are 
 any." 
 
 " I hope he will not come near us," answered Corona. 
 " I want to be all alone with you, Giovanni, for ever so 
 long. Would you not rather be alone for a little while ? " 
 she asked, looking up suddenly with a timid smile. 
 " Should I bore you very much ? " 
 
 It is unnecessary to record Giovanni's answer. If 
 Corona longed to be alone with him in the hills, Gio 
 vanni himself desired such a retreat still more. To be 
 out of the world, even for a month, seemed to him the 
 most delightful of prospects, for he was weary of the 
 city, of society, of eveything save the woman he was 
 about to marry. Of her he could never tire ; he could 
 not imagine that in her company the days would ever 
 seem long, even in old Saracinesca, among the grey rocks 
 of the Sabines. The average man is gregarious, perhaps ; 
 but in strong minds there is often a great desire for 
 solitude, or at least for retirement, in the society of one 
 sympathetic soul. The instinct which bids such people 
 leave the world for a time is never permanent, unless 
 they become morbid. It is a natural feeling ; and a 
 strong brain gathers strength from communing with itself 
 or with its natural mate. There are few great men who 
 have not at one time or another withdrawn into solitude, 
 and their retreat has generally been succeeded by a period 
 of extraordinary activity. Strong minds are often, at 
 some time or another, exposed to doubt and uncertainty 
 incomprehensible to a smaller intellect due, indeed, to 
 that very breadth of view which contemplates the same 
 idea from a vast number of sides. To a man so endowed, 
 the casting-vote of some one whom he loves, and with 
 whom he almost unconsciously sympathises, is some 
 times necessary to produce action, to direct the faculties, 
 to guide the overflowing flood of his thought into the 
 mill-race of life's work. Without a certain amount of 
 
SARACINESCA. 399 
 
 prejudice to determine the resultant of its forces, many a 
 fine intellect would expend its power in burrowing among 
 its own labyrinths, unrecognised, misunderstood, unheard 
 by the working-day world without. For the working-day 
 world never lacks prejudice to direct its working. 
 
 For some time Giovanni and Corona talked of their 
 plans for the spring and summer. They would read, 
 they would work together at the schemes for uniting 
 and improving their estates ; they would build that new 
 road from Astrardente to Saracinesca, concerning which 
 there had been so much discussion during the last year ; 
 they would visit every part of their lands together, and 
 inquire into the condition of every peasant ; they would 
 especially devote their attention to extending the forest 
 enclosures, in which Giovanni foresaw a source of wealth 
 for his children; above all, they would talk to their 
 hearts' content, and feel, as each day dawned upon their 
 happiness, that they were free to go where they would, 
 without being confronted at every turn by the trouble 
 some duties of an exigent society. 
 
 At last the conversation turned again upon recent 
 events, and especially upon the part Del Ferice and 
 Donna Tullia had played in attempting to prevent the 
 marriage. Corona asked what Giovanni intended to do 
 about the matter. 
 
 "I do not see that there is much to be done," he 
 answered. "I will go to Donna Tullia to-morrow, and 
 explain that there has been a curious mistake that I am 
 exceedingly obliged to her for calling my attention to the 
 existence of a distant relative, but that I trust she will 
 not in future interfere in my affairs." 
 
 " Do you think she will marry Del Ferice after all ? " 
 asked Corona. 
 
 " Why not ? Of course he gave her the papers. Very 
 possibly he thought they really proved my former mar 
 riage. She will perhaps blame him for her failure, but 
 he will defend himself, never fear j he will make her 
 marry him." 
 
400 SABACINESCA. 
 
 " I wish they would marry and go away," said Corona, 
 to whom the very name of Del Ferice was abhorrent, and 
 who detested Donna Tullia almost as heartily. Corona 
 was a, very good and noble woman, but she was very far 
 from that saintly superiority which forgets to resent 
 injuries. Her passions were eminently human, and very 
 strong. She had struggled bravely against her over 
 whelming love for Giovanni ; and she had so far got the 
 mastery of herself, that she would have endured to the 
 end if her husband's death had not set her at liberty. 
 Perhaps, too, while she felt the necessity of fighting 
 against that love, she attained for a time to an elevation 
 of character which would have made such personal inju 
 ries as Donna Tullia could inflict seem insignificant in 
 comparison with the great struggle she sustained against 
 an even greater evil. But in the realisation of her free 
 dom, in suddenly giving the rein to her nature, so long 
 controlled by her resolute will, all passion seemed to 
 break out at once with renewed force ; and the conviction 
 that her anger against her two enemies was perfectly 
 just and righteous, added fuel to the fire. Her eyes 
 gleamed fiercely as she spoke of Del Ferice and his bride, 
 and no punishment seemed too severe for those who had 
 so treacherously tried to dash the cup of her happiness 
 from her very lips. 
 
 " I wish they would marry," she repeated, " and I wish 
 the Cardinal would turn them out of Borne the next day." 
 
 " That might be done," said Giovanni, who had himself 
 revolved more than one scheme of vengeance against the 
 evil-doers. " The trouble is, that the Cardinal despises Del 
 Ferice and his political dilettanteism. He does not care 
 a fig whether the fellow remains in Eome or goes away. 
 I confess it would be a great satisfaction to wring the 
 villain's neck." 
 
 " You must not fight him again, Giovanni," said Corona, 
 in sudden alarm. " You must not risk your life now you 
 know it is mine now." She laid her hand tenderly on his, 
 and it trembled. 
 
SARACINESCA. 401 
 
 " No, dearest I certainly will not. But my father is 
 very angry. I think we may safely leave the treatment of 
 Del Fence in his hands. My father is a very sudden and 
 violent man." 
 
 " I know/' replied Corona. " He is magnificent when 
 he is angry. I have no doubt he will settle Del Ferice's 
 affairs satisfactorily." She laughed almost fiercely. Gio 
 vanni looked at her anxiously, yet not without pride, as 
 he recognised in her strong anger something akin to 
 himself. 
 
 " How fierce you are ! " he said, with a smile. 
 
 " Have I not cause to be ? Have I not cause to wish 
 these people an evil end ? Have they not nearly separated 
 us ? Nothing is bad enough for them what is the use of 
 pretending not to feel ? You are calm, Giovanni ? Per 
 haps you are much stronger than I am. I do not think 
 you realise what they meant to do to separate us us! 
 As if any torture were bad enough for them ! " 
 
 Giovanni had never seen her so thoroughly roused. He 
 was angry himself, and more than angry, for his cheek 
 paled, and his stern features grew more hard, while his 
 voice dropped to a hoarser tone. 
 
 " Do not mistake me, Corona," he said. " Do not think 
 I am indifferent because I am quiet. Del Ferice shall 
 expiate all some day, and bitterly too." 
 
 "Indeed I hope so," answered Corona between her 
 teeth. Had Giovanni foreseen the long and bitter struggle 
 he would one day have to endure before that expiation was 
 complete, he would very likely have renounced his ven 
 geance then and there, for his wife's sake. But we mortals 
 see but in a glass j and when the mirror is darkened by 
 the master-passion of hate, we see not at all. Corona and 
 Giovanni, united, rich and powerful, might indeed appear 
 formidable to a wretch like Del Ferice, dependent upon a 
 system of daily treachery for the very bread he ate. But 
 in those days the wheel of fortune was beginning to turn, 
 and far-sighted men prophesied that many an obscure in 
 dividual would one day be playing the part of a great 
 
402 SAEACINESCA. 
 
 personage. Years would still elapse before the change, 
 but the change would surely come at last. 
 
 Giovanni was very thoughtful as he walked home that 
 night. He was happy, and he had cause to be, for the 
 long-desired day was at hand. He had nearly attained 
 the object of his life, and there was now no longer any 
 obstacle to be overcome. The relief he felt at his father's 
 return was very great ; for although he had known that 
 the impediment raised would be soon removed, any im 
 pediment whatever was exasperating, and he could not 
 calculate the trouble that might be caused by the further 
 machinations of Donna Tullia and her affianced husband. 
 All difficulties had, however, been overcome by his father's 
 energetic action, and at once Giovanni felt as though a 
 load had fallen from his shoulders, and a veil from his 
 eyes. He saw himself wedded to Corona in less than a 
 fortnight, removed from the sphere of society and of all 
 his troubles, living for a space alone with her in his an 
 cestral home, calling her, at last, his wife. Nevertheless 
 he was thoughtful, and his expression was not one of un- 
 mingled gladness, as he threaded the streets on his way 
 home ; for his mind reverted to Del Ferice and to Donna 
 Tullia, and Corona's fierce look was still before him. He 
 reflected that she had been nearly as much injured as him 
 self, that her wrath was legitimate, and that it was his 
 duty to visit her sufferings as well as his own upon the 
 offenders. His melancholic nature easily fell to brooding 
 over any evil which was strong enough to break the barrier 
 of his indifference ; and the annoyances which had sprung 
 originally from so small a cause had grown to gigantic 
 proportions, and had struck at the very roots of his 
 happiness. 
 
 He had begun by disliking Del Ferice in an indifferent 
 way whenever he chanced to cross his path. Del Ferice 
 had resented this haughty indifference as a personal insult, 
 and had set about injuring Giovanni, attempting to thwart 
 him whenever he could. Giovanni had caught Del Ferice 
 in a dastardly trick, and had been so far roused as to take 
 
SARACINESCA. 403 
 
 summary vengeance upon him in the duel which took 
 place after the Frangipani ball. The wound had entered 
 into Ugo's soul, and his hatred had grown the faster that 
 he found no opportunity of revenge. Then, at last, when 
 Giovanni's happiness had seemed complete, his enemy had 
 put forward his pretended proof of a former marriage ; 
 knowing well enough that his weapons were not invincible 
 were indeed very weak but unable to resist any longer 
 the desire for vengeance. Once more Giovanni had tri 
 umphed easily, but with victory came the feeling that it 
 was his turn to punish his adversary. And now there 
 was a new and powerful motive added to Giovanni's just 
 resentment, in the anger his future wife felt, and had a 
 good right to feel, at the treachery which had been prac 
 tised upon both. It had taken two years to rouse Gio 
 vanni to energetic action against one whom he had in 
 turn regarded with indifference, then despised, then hon 
 estly disliked, and finally hated. But his hatred had 
 been doubled each time by a greater injury, and was not 
 likely to be easily satisfied. Nothing short of Del 
 Ferice's destruction would be enough, and his destruc 
 tion must be brought about by legal means. 
 
 Giovanni had not far to seek for his weapons. He 
 had long suspected Del Ferice of treasonable practices ; 
 he did not doubt that with small exertion he could find 
 evidence to convict him. He would, then, allow him to 
 marry Donna Tullia; and on the day after the wedding, 
 Del Ferice should be arrested and lodged in the prison 
 of the Holy Office as a political delinquent of the mean 
 est and most dangerous kind as a political spy. The 
 determination was soon reached. It did not seem cruel 
 to Giovanni, for he was in a relentless mood ; it would 
 not have seemed cruel to Corona, Del Ferice had de 
 served all that, and more also. 
 
 So Giovanni went home and slept the sleep of a man 
 who has made up his mind upon an important matter. 
 And in the morning he rose early and communicated his 
 ideas to his father. The result was that they determined 
 
404 SAKACINESCA. 
 
 for the present to avoid an interview with Donna Tullia, 
 and to communicate to her by letter the result of old 
 Saracinesca's rapid journey to Aquila. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 When Donna Tullia received Saracinesca's note, ex 
 plaining the existence of a second Giovanni, his pedigree 
 and present circumstances, she almost fainted with dis 
 appointment. It seemed to her that she had compromised 
 herself before the world, that all Koine knew the ridicu 
 lous part she had played in Del Ferice's comedy, and 
 that her shame would never be forgotten. Suddenly she 
 saw how she had been led away by her hatred of Gio 
 vanni into believing blindly in a foolish tale which 
 ought not to have deceived a child. So soon as she 
 learned the existence of a second Giovanni Saracinesca, 
 it seemed to her that she must have been mad not to 
 foresee such an explanation from the first. She had 
 been duped, she had been made a cat's-paw, she had been 
 abominably deceived by Del Ferice, who had made use 
 of this worthless bribe in order to extort from her a 
 promise of marriage. She felt very ill, as very vain peo 
 ple often do when they feel that they have been made 
 ridiculous. She lay upon the sofa in her little boudoir, 
 where everything was in the worst possible taste from the 
 gaudy velvet carpet and satin furniture to the gilt clock 
 on the chimney-piece and she turned red and pale and 
 red again, and wished she were dead, or in Paris, or any 
 where save in Rome. If she went out she might meet 
 one of the Saracinesca at any turn of the street, or even 
 Corona herself. How they would bow and smile sweetly 
 at her, enjoying her discomfiture with the polite supe 
 riority of people who cannot be hurt ! 
 
 And she herself she could not tell what she should 
 
SAKACINESCA. 405 
 
 do. She had announced her engagement to Del Ferice, 
 but she could not marry him. She had been entrapped 
 into making him a promise, into swearing a terrible oath ; 
 but the Church did not consider such oaths binding. She 
 would go to Padre Filippo and ask his advice. 
 
 But then, if she went to Padre Filippo, she would have 
 to confess all she had done, and she was not prepared to 
 do that. A few weeks would pass, and that time would 
 be sufficient to mellow and smooth the remembrance of 
 her revengeful projects into a less questionable shape. 
 !No she could not confess all that just yet. Surely 
 such an oath was not binding; at all events, she could 
 not marry Del Ferice, whether she broke her promise or 
 not. In the first place, she would send for him and vent 
 her anger upon him while it was hot. 
 
 Accordingly, in the space of three-quarters of an hour, 
 Ugo appeared, smiling, smooth and persuasive as usual. 
 Donna Tullia assumed a fine attitude of disdain as she 
 heard his step outside the door. She intended to impress 
 him with a full and sudden view of her just anger. He 
 did not seem much moved, and came forward as usual to 
 take her hand and kiss it. But she folded her arms and 
 stared at him with all the contempt she could concentrate 
 in the gaze of her blue eyes. It was a good comedy. 
 Del Ferice, who had noticed as soon as he entered the 
 room that something was wrong, and had already half 
 guessed the cause, affected to spring back in horror when 
 she refused to give her hand. His pale face expressed 
 sufficiently well a mixture of indignation and sorrow at 
 the harsh treatment he received. Still Donna Tullia's 
 cold eye rested upon him in a fixed stare. 
 
 '< What is this ? What have I done ? " asked Del 
 Ferice in low tones. 
 
 " Can you ask ? Wretch ! Eead that, and understand 
 what you have done," answered Donna Tullia, making 
 a step forward and thrusting Saracinesca's letter in his 
 face. 
 
 Del Ferice had already seen the handwriting, and kne'W 
 
 Vol. 1018 
 
406 SARACINESCA. 
 
 what the contents were likely to be. He took the letter 
 in one hand, and without looking at it, still faced the 
 angry woman. His brows contracted into a heavy frown, 
 and his half-closed eyes gazed menacingly at her. 
 
 " It will be an evil day for any man who comes be 
 tween you and me," he said, in tragic tones. 
 
 Donna Tullia laughed harshly, and again drew herself 
 up, watching his face, and expecting to witness his utter 
 confusion. But she was no match for the actor whom 
 she had promised to marry. Del Ferice began to read, 
 and as he read, his frown relaxed ; gradually an ugly 
 smile, intended to represent fiendish cunning, stole over 
 his features, and when he had finished, he uttered a cry 
 of triumph. 
 
 " Ha ! " he said, " I guessed it ! I hoped it and it is 
 true ! He is found at last ! The very man the real 
 Saracinesca ! It is only a matter of time " 
 
 Donna Tullia now stared in unfeigned surprise. In 
 stead of crushing him to the ground as she had expected, 
 the letter seemed to fill him with boundless delight. He 
 paced the room in wild excitement, chattering like a mad 
 man. In spite of herself, however, her own spirits rose, 
 and her anger against Del Ferice softened. All was per 
 haps not lost who could fathom the intricacy of his great 
 schemes ? Surely he was not the man to fall a victim to 
 his own machinations. 
 
 " Will you please explain your extraordinary satisfac 
 tion at this news ? " said Madame Mayer. Between her 
 late anger, her revived hopes, and her newly roused curi 
 osity, she was in a terrible state of suspense. 
 
 " Explain ? " he cried. " Explain what, most adorable 
 of women? Does it not explain itself ? Have we not 
 found the Marchese di San Giacinto, the real Saracinesca? 
 Is not that enough ? " 
 
 "I do not understand " 
 
 Del Ferice was now by her side. He seemed hardly 
 able to control himself for joy. As a matter of fact he 
 was acting, and acting a desperate part too, suggested on 
 
SARACINESCA. 407 
 
 the spur of the moment by the risk he ran of losing this 
 woman and her fortune on the very eve of marriage. Now 
 he seized her hand, and drawing her arm through his, led 
 her quickly backwards and forwards, talking fast and 
 earnestly. It would not do to hesitate, for by a moment's 
 appearance of uncertainty all would be lost. 
 
 " No ; of course you cannot understand the vast im 
 portance of this discovery. I must explain. I must enter 
 into historic details, and I am BO much overcome by this 
 extraordinary turn of fortune that I can hardly speak. 
 Remove all doubt from your mind, my dear lady, for we 
 have already triumphed. This innkeeper, this Giovanni 
 Saracinesca, this Marchese di San Giaeinto, is the lawful 
 and right Prince Saracinesca, the head of the house " 
 
 " What ! " screamed Donna Tullia, stopping short, and 
 gripping his arm as in a vice. 
 
 " Indeed he is. I suspected it when I first found the 
 signature at Aquila; but the man was gone, with his 
 newly married wife, no one knew whither ; and I could 
 not find him, search as I might. He is now returned, and 
 what is more, as this letter says, with all his papers prov 
 ing his identity. This is how the matter lies. Listen, 
 Tullia mia. The old Leone Saracinesca who last bore 
 the title of Marquis " 
 
 " The one mentioned here ? " asked Donna Tullia, 
 breathlessly. 
 
 " Yes the one who took service under Murat, under 
 Napoleon. Well, it is perfectly well known that he laid 
 claim to the Roman title, and with perfect justice. Two 
 generations before that, there had been an amicable ar 
 rangement amicable, but totally illegal whereby the 
 elder brother, who was an unmarried invalid, transferred 
 the Roman estates to his younger brother, who was mar 
 ried and had children, and, in exchange, took the Nea 
 politan estates and title, which had just fallen back to the 
 main branch by the death of a childless Marchese di San 
 Giacinto. Late in life this old recluse invalid married, 
 contrary to all expectation certainly contrary to his own 
 
408 SARACINESCA. 
 
 previous intentions. However, a child was born a boy. 
 The old man found himself deprived by his own act of his 
 principality, and the succession turned from his son to the 
 son of his younger brother. He began a negotiation for 
 again obtaining possession of the Roman title at least so 
 the family tradition goes but his brother, who was firmly 
 established in Eome, refused to listen to his demands. At 
 this juncture the old man died, being legally, observe, still 
 the head of the family of Saracinesca ; his son should have 
 succeeded him. But his wife, the young daughter of an 
 obscure Neapolitan nobleman, was not more than eighteen 
 years of age, and the child was only six months old. 
 People married young in those days. She entered some 
 kind of protest, which, however, was of no avail ; and the 
 boy grew up to be called the Marchese di San Giacinto. 
 He learned the story of his birth from his mother, and 
 protested in his turn. He ruined himself in trying to 
 push his suit in the Neapolitan courts ; and finally, in the 
 days of Napoleon's success, he took service under Murat, 
 receiving the solemn promise of the Emperor that he 
 should be reinstated in his title. But the Emperor forgot 
 his promise, or did not find it convenient to keep it, hav 
 ing perhaps reasons of his own for not quarrelling with 
 Pius the Seventh, who protected the Eoman Saracinesca 
 Then came 1815, the downfall of the Empire, the restora* 
 tion of Ferdinand IV. in Naples, the confiscation of prop 
 erty from all who had joined the Emperor, and the 
 consequent complete ruin of San G-iacinto's hopes. He 
 was supposed to have been killed, or to have made away 
 with himself. Saracinesca himself acknowledges that 
 his grandson is alive x and possesses all the family papers. 
 Saracinesca himself has discovered, seen, and conversed 
 with the lawful head of his race, who, by the blessing of 
 heaven and the assistance of the courts, will before long 
 turn him out of house and home, and reign in his stead 
 in all the glories of the Palazzo Saracinesca, Prince of 
 Eome, of the Holy Eoman Empire, grandee of Spain of 
 the first class, and all the rest of it. Do you wonder 
 
SARACINESCA. 409 
 
 I rejoice, now that I am sure of putting an innkeeper 
 over my enemy's head ? Fancy the humiliation of 
 old Saracinejsca, of Giovanni, who will have to take 
 his wife's title for the sake of respectability, of the As- 
 trardente herself, when she finds she has married the 
 penniless son of a penniless pretender ! " 
 
 Del Ferice knew enough of the Saracinesca's family 
 history to know that something like what he had so 
 fluently detailed to Donna Tullia had actually occurred, 
 and he knew well enough that she would not remember 
 every detail of his rapidly told tale. Hating the family 
 as he did, he had diligently sought out all information 
 about them which he could obtain without gaining access 
 to their private archives. His ready wit helped him to 
 string the whole into a singularly plausible story. So 
 plausible, indeed, that it entirely upset all Donna Tullia' s 
 (determination to be angry at Del Ferice, and filled her 
 with something of the enthusiasm he showed. For him 
 self he hoped that there was enough in his story to do 
 some palpable injury to the Saracinesca; but his more 
 immediate object was not to lose Donna Tullia by letting 
 her feel any disappointment at the discovery recently 
 made by the old Prince. Donna Tullia listened with 
 breathless interest until he had finished. 
 
 " What a man you are, Ugo ! How you turn defeat 
 into victory-! Is it all really true ? Do you think we 
 can do it ? " 
 
 u If I were to die this instant," Del Ferice asseverated,- 
 solemnly raising his hand, " it is all perfectly true, so help 
 me God ! " 
 
 He hoped, for many reasons, that he was not perjuring 
 himself. 
 
 " What shall we do, then ? " asked Madame Mayer. 
 
 " Let them marry first, and then we shall be sure of 
 humiliating them both," he answered. Unconsciously 
 he repeated the very determination which Giovanni 
 had formed against him the night before. " Meanwhile, 
 you and I can consult the lawyers and see how this 
 
410 SARACINESCA. 
 
 thing can best be accomplished quickly and surely," he 
 added. 
 
 " You will have to send for the innkeeper " 
 
 " I will go and see him. It will not be hard to persuade 
 him to claim his lawful rights." 
 
 Del Ferice remained some time in conversation with 
 Donna Tullia. The magnitude of the scheme fascinated 
 her, and instead of thinking of breaking her promise to 
 Ugo as she had intended doing, she so far fell under his 
 influence as to name the wedding-day, Easter Monday, 
 they agreed, would exactly suit them and their plans. 
 Indeed the idea of refusing to fulfil her engagement had 
 been but the result of a transitory fit of anger ; if she had 
 had any fear of making a misalliance in marrying Del 
 Ferice, the way in which the world received the news of 
 the engagement removed all such apprehension from her 
 mind. Del Ferice was already treated with increased re 
 spect the very servants began to call him " Eccellenza," 
 a distinction to which he neither had, nor could ever have, 
 any kind of claim, but which pleased Donna Tullia's vain 
 soul. The position which Ugo had obtained for himself 
 by an assiduous attention to the social claims and preju 
 dices of social lights and oracles, was suddenly assured to 
 him, and rendered tenfold more brilliant by the news of 
 his alliance with Donna Tullia. He excited no jealousies 
 either; for Donna Tullia' s peculiarities were of a kind 
 which seemed to have interfered from the first with her 
 matrimonial projects. As a young girl, a relation of the 
 Saracinesca, whom she now so bitterly hated, she should 
 have been regarded as marriageable by any of the young 
 Roman nobles, from Valdarno down. But she had only 
 a small dowry, and she was said to be extravagant two 
 objections then not so easily overcome as now. Moreover, 
 she was considered to be somewhat flighty ; and the social 
 jury decided that when she was married, she would be 
 excellent company, but would make a very poor wife. 
 Almost before they had finished discussing her, however, 
 she had found a husband, in the shape of the wealthy 
 
SARACINESCA. 411 
 
 foreign contractor, Mayer, who wanted a wife from a good 
 Eoman house, and cared not at all for money. She treated 
 him very well, but was speedily delivered from all her 
 cares by his untimely death. Then, of all her fellow- 
 citizens, none was found save the eccentric old Saracinesca, 
 who believed that she would do for his son ; wherein it 
 appeared that Giovanni's father was the man of all others 
 who least understood Giovanni's inclinations. But this 
 match fell to the ground, owing to Giovanni's attachment 
 to Corona, and Madame Mayer was left with the prospect 
 of remaining a widow for the rest of her life, or of marry 
 ing a poor man. She chose the latter alternative, and fate 
 threw into her way the cleverest poor man in Rome, as 
 though desiring to compensate her for not having married 
 one of the greatest nobles, in the person of Giovanni. 
 Though she was always a centre of attraction, no one of 
 those she most attracted wanted to marry her, and all 
 expressed their unqualified approval of her ultimate choice. 
 One said she was very generous to marry a penniless gen 
 tleman ; another remarked that she showed wisdom in 
 choosing a man who was in the way of making himself 
 a good position under the Italian Government ; a third 
 observed that he was delighted, because he could enjoy 
 her society without being suspected of wanting to marry 
 her ; and all agreed in praising her, and in treating Del 
 Fence with the respect due to a man highly favored by 
 fortune. 
 
 Donna Tullia named the wedding-day, and her affianced 
 husband departed in high spirits with himself, with her, 
 and with his scheme. He felt still a little excited, and 
 wanted to be alone. He hardly realised the magnitude of 
 the plot he had undertaken, and needed time to reflect 
 upon it ; but with the true instinct of an intriguing genius 
 he recognised at once that his new plan was the thing he 
 had sought for long and ardently, and that it was worth 
 all his other plans put together. Accordingly he went 
 home, and proceeded to devote himself to the study of the 
 question, sending a note to a friend of his a young lawyer 
 
412 SAKACINESCA. 
 
 of doubtful reputation, but of brilliant parts, whom he at 
 once selected as his chief counsellor in the important affair 
 he had undertaken. 
 
 Before long he heard that the marriage of Don Giovanni 
 Saracinesca to the Duchessa d' Astrardente was to take place 
 the next week, in the chapel of the Palazzo Saracinesca. 
 At least popular report said that the ceremony was to take 
 place there ; and that it was to be performed with great 
 privacy was sufficiently evident from the fact that no in 
 vitations appeared to have been issued. Society did not 
 fail to comment upon such exclusiveness, and it commented 
 unfavourably, for it felt that it was being deprived of a 
 long-anticipated spectacle. This state of things lasted for 
 two days, when, upon the Sunday morning precisely a week 
 before the wedding, all Eome was surprised by receiving 
 an imposing invitation, setting forth that the marriage 
 would be solemnised in the Basilica of the Santi Apostoli, 
 and that it would be followed by a state reception at the 
 Palazzo Saracinesca. It was soon known that the cere 
 mony would be performed by the Cardinal Archpriest of 
 St Peter's, that the united choirs of St Peter's and of the 
 Sixtine Chapel would sing the High Mass, and that the 
 whole occasion would be one of unprecedented solemnity 
 and magnificence. This was the programme published by 
 the ' Osservatore Eomano,' and that newspaper proceeded 
 to pronounce a eulogy of some length and considerable 
 eloquence upon the happy pair. Eome was fairly taken 
 off its feet ; and although some malcontents were found, 
 who said it was improper that Corona's marriage should 
 be celebrated with such pomp so soon after her husband's 
 death, the general verdict was that the whole proceeding 
 was eminently proper and becoming to so important an 
 event. So soon as every one had been invited, no one 
 seemed to think it remarkable that the invitations should 
 have been issued so late. It was not generally known that 
 in the short time which elapsed between the naming of the 
 day and the issuing of the cards, there had been several 
 interviews between old Saracinesca and Cardinal Antonelli ; 
 
SARACINESCA. 413 
 
 that the former had explained Corona's natural wish that 
 the marriage should be private, and that the latter had 
 urged many reasons why so great an event ought to be 
 public ; that Saracinesca had said he did not care at all, 
 and was only expressing the views of his son and of the 
 bride ; that the Cardinal had repeatedly asseverated that 
 he wished to please everybody ; that Corona had refused 
 to be pleased by a public ceremony ; and that, finally, the 
 Cardinal, seeing himself hard pressed, had persuaded his 
 Holiness himself to express a wish that the marriage 
 should take place in the most solemn and public manner; 
 wherefore Corona had reluctantly yielded the point, and 
 the matter was arranged. The fact was that the Cardinal 
 wished to make a sort of demonstration of the solidarity 
 of the Roman nobility : it suited his aims to enter into 
 every detail which could add to the importance of the 
 Koman Court, and which could help to impress upon the 
 foreign Ministers the belief that in all matters the Romans 
 as one man would stand by each other and by the Vatican. 
 No one knew better than he how the spectacle of a relig 
 ious solemnity, at which the whole nobility would attend 
 in a body, must strike the mind of a stranger in Rome ; 
 for in Roman ceremonies of that day there was a pomp 
 and magnificence surpassing that found in any other 
 Court of Europe. The whole marriage would become an 
 event of which he could make an impressive use, and he 
 was determined not to forego any advantages which might 
 arise from it ; for he was a man who of all men well un 
 derstood the value of details in maintaining prestige. 
 
 But to the two principal actors in the day's doings the 
 affair was an unmitigated annoyance, and even their own 
 great and true happiness could not lighten the excessive 
 fatigue of the pompous ceremony and of the still more 
 pompous reception which followed it. To describe that 
 day would be to make out a catalogue of gorgeous equi 
 pages, gorgeous costumes, gorgeous decorations. Many 
 pages would not suffice to enumerate the cardinals, the 
 dignitaries, the ambassadors, the great nobles, whose mag- 
 
414 SARACINESCA. 
 
 nificent coaches drove up in long file through the Piazza 
 dei Santi Apostoli to the door of the Basilica. The col 
 umns of the < Osservatore Eomano ' were full of it for a 
 week afterwards. There was no end to the descriptions 
 of the costumes, from the white satin and diamonds of 
 the bride to the festal uniforms of the Cardinal Arch- 
 priest's retinue. Not a personage of importance was 
 overlooked in the newspaper account, not a diplomatist, 
 not an officer of Zouaves. And society read the praise 
 of itself, and found it much more interesting than the 
 praise of the bride and bridegroom ; and only one or two 
 people were offended because the paper had made a mis 
 take in naming the colours of the hammer-cloths upon 
 their coaches : so that the affair was a great success. 
 
 But when at last the sun was low and the guests had de 
 parted from the Palazzo Saracinesca, Corona and Giovanni 
 got into their travelling carriage under the great dark arch 
 way, and sighed a sigh of infinite relief. The old Prince 
 put his arms tenderly around his new daughter and kissed 
 her ; and for the second time in the course of this history, 
 it is to be recorded that two tears stole silently down his 
 brown cheeks to his grey beard. Then he embraced Gio 
 vanni, whose face was pale and earnest. 
 
 " This is not the end of our living together, padre mio" 
 he said. " We shall expect you before long at Saracin 
 esca." 
 
 " Yes, my boy," returned the old man ; " I will come 
 and see you after Easter. But do not stay if it is too 
 cold ; I have a little business to attend to in Kome before 
 I join you," he added, with a grim smile. 
 
 " I know," replied Giovanni, a savage light in his black 
 eyes. " If you need help, send to me, or come yourself." 
 
 " No fear of that, Giovannino ; I have got a terrible 
 helper. Now, be off. The guards are growing im 
 patient." 
 
 " Good-bye. God bless you, padre mio ! " 
 
 " God bless you both ! " So they drove off, and left old 
 Saracinesca standing bareheaded and alone under the dim 
 
SAKACINESCA. 415 
 
 archway of his ancestral palace. The great carriage rolled 
 out, and the guard of mounted gendarmes, which the Car 
 dinal had insisted upon sending with the young couple, 
 half out of compliment, half for safety, fell in behind, and 
 trotted down the narrow street, with a deafening clatter 
 of hoofs and clang of scabbards. 
 
 But Giovanni held Corona's hand in his, and both were 
 silent for a time. Then they rolled under the low vault 
 of the Porta San Lorenzo and out into the evening sun 
 light of the Campagna beyond. 
 
 " God be praised that it has come at last ! " said Gio 
 vanni. 
 
 " Yes, it has come," answered Corona, her strong white 
 fingers closing upon his brown hand almost convulsively ; 
 " and, come what may, you are mine, Giovanni, until we 
 die!" 
 
 There was something fierce in the way those two loved 
 each other ; for they had fought many fights before they 
 were united, and had overcome themselves, each alone, 
 before they had overcome other obstacles together. 
 
 Kelays of horses awaited them on their way, and relays 
 of mounted guards. Late that night they reached Sara- 
 cinesca, all ablaze with torches and lanterns ; and the 
 young men took the horses from the coach and yoked 
 themselves to it with ropes, and dragged the cumbrous 
 carriage up the last hill with furious speed, shouting and 
 singing like madmen in the cool mountain air. Up the 
 steep they rushed, and under the grand old gateway, made 
 as bright as day with flaming torches ; and then there 
 went up a shout that struck the old vaults like a wild 
 chord of fierce music, and Corona knew that her journey 
 was ended. 
 
 So it was that Giovanni Saracinesca brought home his 
 bride. 
 
416 SAKACINESCA. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 The old Prince was left alone, as lie had often been 
 left before, when Giovanni was gone to the ends of the 
 earth in pursuit of his amusements. On such occasions 
 old Saracinesca frequently packed up his traps and fol 
 lowed his son's example ; but he rarely went further 
 than Paris, where he had many friends, and where he 
 generally succeeded in finding consolation for his soli 
 tude. 
 
 Now, however, he felt more than usually lonely. Gio 
 vanni had not gone far, it is true, for with good horses it 
 was scarcely more than eight hours to the castle ; but, for 
 the first time in his life, old Saracinesca felt that if he had 
 suddenly determined to follow his son, he would not be 
 welcome. The boy was married at last, and must be left 
 in peace for a few days with his bride. With the con 
 trariety natural to him, old Saracinesca no sooner felt 
 that his son was gone than he experienced the most 
 ardent desire to be with him. He had often seen Gio 
 vanni leave the house at twenty-four hours' notice on 
 his way to some distant capital, and had not cared to 
 accompany him, simply because he knew he might do so 
 if he pleased; but now he felt that some one else had 
 taken his place, and that, for a time at least, he was 
 forcibly excluded from Giovanni's society. It is very 
 likely that but for the business which detained him in 
 Home he would have astonished the happy pair by 
 riding into the gateway of the old castle on the day after 
 the wedding : that business, however, was urgent, secret, 
 and, moreover, very congenial to the old man's present 
 temper. 
 
 He had discussed the matter fully with Giovanni, and 
 they had agreed upon the course to be pursued. There 
 was, nevertheless, much to be done before the end they 
 both so earnestly desired could be attained. It seemed a 
 
SAKACINESCA. 417 
 
 simple plan to go to Cardinal Antonelli and to demand the 
 arrest of Del Ferice for his misdeeds ; but as yet those 
 misdeeds were undefined, and it was necessary to define 
 them. The Cardinal rarely resorted to such measures ex 
 cept when the case was urgent, and Saracinesca knew per 
 fectly well that it would be hard to prove anything more 
 serious against Del Ferice than the crime of joining in the 
 silly talk of Valdarno and his set. Giovanni had told his 
 father plainly that he was sure Del Ferice derived his liv 
 ing from some illicit source, but he was wholly unable to 
 show what that source was. Most people believed the 
 story that Del Ferice had inherited money from an ob 
 scure relative ; most people thought he was clever and 
 astute, but were so far deceived by his frank and un 
 affected manner as to feel sure that he always said every 
 thing that came into his head ; most people are so much 
 delighted when an unusually clever man deigns to talk to 
 them, that they cannot, for vanity's sake, suspect him of 
 deceiving them. Saracinesca did not doubt that the mere 
 statement of his own belief in regard to Del Ferice would 
 have considerable weight with the Cardinal, for he was 
 used to power of a certain kind, and was accustomed to 
 see his judgment treated with deference ; but he knew the 
 Cardinal to be a cautious man, hating despotic measures, 
 because by his use of them he had made himself so bit 
 terly hated loth always to do by force what might be 
 accomplished by skill, and in the end far more likely to 
 attempt the conversion of Del Ferice to the reactionary 
 view, than to order his expulsion because his views were 
 over liberal. Even if old Saracinesca had possessed a 
 vastly greater diplomatic instinct than he did, coupled 
 with an unscrupulous mendacity which he certainly had 
 not, he would have found it hard to persuade the Cardinal 
 against his will ; but Saracinesca was, of all men, a man 
 violent in action and averse to reflection before or after the 
 fact. That he should ultimately be revenged upon Del 
 Ferice and Donna Tullia for the part they had lately 
 played, was a matter which it never entered his head to 
 
418 SARACINESCA. 
 
 doubt; but when he endeavoured to find means which 
 should persuade the Cardinal to assist him, he seemed 
 fenced in on all sides by impossibilities. One thing only 
 helped him namely, the conviction that if the statesman 
 could be induced to examine Del Ferice's conduct seri 
 ously, the latter would prove to be not only an enemy to 
 the State, but a bitter enemy to the Cardinal himself. 
 
 The more Saracinesca thought of the matter, the more 
 convinced he was that he should go boldly to the Car 
 dinal and state his belief that Del Ferice was a danger 
 ous traitor, who ought to be summarily dealt with. If 
 the Cardinal argued the case, the Prince would asseverate, 
 after his manner, and some sort of result was sure to 
 follow. As he thus determined upon his course, his 
 doubts seemed to vanish, as they generally do in the 
 mind of a strong man, when action becomes imminent, 
 and the confidence the old man had exhibited to his son 
 very soon became genuine. It was almost intolerable to 
 have to wait so long, however, before doing anything. 
 Giovanni and he had decided to allow Del Ferice's mar 
 riage to take place before producing the explosion, in 
 order the more certainly to strike both the offenders ; 
 now it seemed best to strike at once. Supposing, he 
 argued with himself, that Donna Tullia and her husband 
 chose to leave Rome for Paris the day after their wed 
 ding, half the triumph would be lost; for half the tri 
 umph was to consist in Del Ferice's being imprisoned 
 for a spy in Koine, whereas if he once crossed the fron 
 tier, he could at most be forbidden to return, which 
 would be but a small satisfaction to Saracinesca, or to 
 Giovanni. 
 
 A week passed by, and the gaiety of Carnival was 
 again at its height ; and again a week elapsed, and Lent 
 was come. Saracinesca went everywhere and saw every 
 body as usual, and then after Ash- Wednesday he occa 
 sionally showed himself at some of those quiet evening 
 receptions which his son so much detested. But he 
 was restless and discontented. He longed to begin the 
 
SARACINESCA. 419 
 
 fight, and could not sleep for thinking of it. Like Gio 
 vanni, he was strong and revengeful ; but Giovanni had 
 from his mother a certain slowness of temperament, 
 which often deterred him from action just long enough 
 to give him time for reflection, whereas the father, when 
 roused, and he was roused easily, loved to strike at once. 
 It chanced one evening, in a great house, that Saracinesca 
 came upon the Cardinal standing alone in an outer room. 
 He was on his way into the reception; but he had stopped, 
 attracted by a beautiful crystal cup of old workman 
 ship, which stood, among other objects of the kind, 
 upon a marble table in one of the drawing-rooms through 
 which he had to pass. The cup itself, of deeply carved 
 rock crystal, was set in chiselled silver, and if not the 
 work of Cellini himself, must have been made by one 
 of his pupils. Saracinesca stopped by the great man's 
 side. 
 
 " Good evening, Eminence," he said. 
 
 " Good evening, Prince/ 7 returned the Cardinal, who 
 recognised Saracinesca's voice without looking up. "Have 
 you ever seen this marvellous piece of work ? I have been 
 admiring it for a quarter of an' hour." He loved all 
 objects of the kind, and understood them with rare 
 knowledge. 
 
 "It is indeed exceedingly beautiful," answered Saracin 
 esca, who longed to take advantage of the opportunity of 
 speaking to Cardinal Antonelli upon the subject nearest 
 to his heart. 
 
 " Yes yes," returned the Cardinal rather vaguely, and 
 made as though he would go on. He saw from Saracin 
 esca's commonplace praise, that he knew nothing of the 
 subject. The old Prince saw his opportunity slipping 
 from him, and lost his head. He did not recollect that 
 he could see the Cardinal alone whenever he pleased, by 
 merely asking for an interview. Fate had thrust the 
 Cardinal in his path, and fate was responsible. 
 
 " If your Eminence will allow me, I would like a 
 word with you," he said suddenly. 
 
420 SARACINESCA. 
 
 "As many as you please," answered the statesman, 
 blandly. " Let us sit down in that corner no one will 
 disturb us for a while." 
 
 He seemed unusually affable, as he sat himself down 
 by Saracinesca's side, gathering the skirt of his scarlet 
 mantle across his knee, and folding his delicate hands 
 together in an attitude of restful attention. 
 
 "You know, I daresay, a certain Del Ferice, Emi 
 nence ? " began the Prince. 
 
 " Very well the deus ex machind who has appeared to 
 carry off Donna Tullia Mayer. Yes, I know him." 
 
 " Precisely, and they will match very well together ; 
 the world cannot help applauding the union of the flesh 
 and the devil." 
 
 The Cardinal smiled. 
 
 "The metaphor is apt," he said; "but what about 
 them ? " 
 
 "I will tell you in two words," replied Saracinesca. 
 " Del Ferice is a scoundrel of the first water " 
 
 "A jewel among scoundrels," interrupted the Cardinal, 
 "for being a scoundrel he is yet harmless a stage vil 
 lain." 
 
 " I believe your Eminence is deceived in him." 
 
 " That may easily be," answered the statesman. " I 
 am much more often deceived than people imagine." 
 He spoke very mildly, but his small black eyes turned 
 keenly upon Saracinesca. " What has he been doing ? " 
 he asked, after a short pause. 
 
 " He has been trying to do a great deal of harm to my 
 son and to my son's wife. I suspect him strongly of 
 doing harm to you." 
 
 Whether Saracinesca was strictly honest in saying 
 " you " to the Cardinal, when he meant the whole State 
 as represented by the prime minister, is a matter not 
 easily decided. There is a Latin saying, to the effect 
 that a man who is feared by many should himself fear 
 many, and the saying is true. The Cardinal was per 
 sonally a brave man ; but he knew his danger, and the 
 
SAEACINESCA. 421 
 
 memory of the murdered Eossi was fresh in his mind. 
 Nevertheless, he smiled blandly as he answered 
 
 " That is rather vague, my friend. How is he doing 
 me harm, if I may ask ? " 
 
 "I argue in this way," returned Saracinesca, thus 
 pressed. " The fellow found a most ingenious way of at 
 tacking my son he searched the whole country till he 
 found that a man called Giovanni Saracinesca had been 
 married some time ago in Aquila. He copied the certifi 
 cates, and produced them as pretended proof that my son 
 was already married. If I had not found the man my 
 self, there would have been trouble. Now besides this, 
 Del Ferice is known to hold Liberal views " 
 
 "Of the feeblest kind," interrupted the statesman, 
 who nevertheless became very grave. 
 
 "Those he exhibits are of the feeblest kind, and he 
 takes no trouble to hide them. But a fellow so ingenious 
 as to imagine the scheme he practised against us is not a 
 fool." 
 
 "I understand, my good friend," said the Cardinal. 
 " You have been injured by this fellow, and you would 
 like me to revenge the injury by locking him up. Is 
 that it?" 
 
 "Precisely," answered Saracinesca, laughing at his 
 own simplicity. " I might as well have said so from the 
 first." 
 
 " Much better. You would make a poor diplomatist, 
 Prince. But what in the world shall I gain by revenging 
 your wrongs upon that creature ? " 
 
 " Nothing unless when you have taken the trouble to 
 examine his conduct, you find that he is really dangerous. 
 In that case your Eminence will be obliged to look to your 
 own safety. If you find him innocent, you will let him 
 go." 
 
 " And in that case, what will you do ? " asked the Car 
 dinal with a smile. 
 
 " I will cut his throat," answered Saracinesca, unmoved. 
 
 "Murder him?" 
 
422 SAKACINESCA. 
 
 him out and kill Mm like a gentleman, 
 which is a great deal better than he deserves." 
 
 "I have no doubt you would," said the Cardinal, 
 gravely. " I think your proposition reasonable, however. 
 If this man is really dangerous, I will look to him myself. 
 But I must really beg you not to do anything rash. I 
 have determined that this duelling shall stop, and I warn 
 you that neither you nor any one else will escape impris 
 onment if you are involved in any more of these per 
 sonal encounters." 
 
 Saracinesca suppressed a smile at the Cardinal's threat ; 
 but he perceived that he had gained his point, and was 
 pleased accordingly. He had, he felt sure, sown in the 
 statesman's mind a germ of suspicion which would before 
 long bring forth fruit. In those days danger was plentiful, 
 and people could not afford to overlook it, no matter in 
 what form it presented itself, least of all such people as the 
 Cardinal himself, who, while sustaining an unequal com 
 bat against superior forces outside the State, felt that his 
 every step was encompassed by perils from within. That 
 he had long despised Del Ferice as an idle chatterer did 
 not prevent him from understanding that he might have 
 been deceived, as Saracinesca suggested. He had caused 
 Ugo to be watched, it is true, but only from time to time, 
 and by men whose only duty was to follow him and to 
 see whether he frequented suspicious society. The little 
 nest of talkers at Gouache's studio in the Via San Basilic 
 was soon discovered, and proved to be harmless enough. 
 Del Ferice was then allowed to go on his way unobserved. 
 But the half-dozen words in which Saracinesca had de 
 scribed Ugo's scheme for hindering Giovanni's marriage 
 had set the Cardinal thinking, and the Cardinal seldom 
 wasted time in thinking in vain. His interview with 
 Saracinesca ended very soon, and the Prince and the 
 statesman entered the crowded drawing-room and mixed 
 in the throng. It was long before they met again in 
 private. 
 
 The Cardinal on the following day gave orders that Del 
 
SAKACINESCA. 423 
 
 Ferice's letters were to be stopped by no means an un 
 common proceeding in those times, nor so rare in our own 
 day as is supposed. The post-office was then in the hands 
 of a private individual so far as all management was con 
 cerned, and the Cardinal's word was law. Del Ferice's 
 letters were regularly opened and examined. 
 
 The first thing that was discovered was that they fre 
 quently contained money, generally in the shape of small 
 drafts on London signed by a Florentine banker, and that 
 the envelopes which contained money never contained any 
 thing else. They were all posted in Florence. With re 
 gard to his letters, they appeared to be very innocent 
 communications from all sorts of people, rarely referring to 
 politics, and then only in the most general terms. If Del 
 Ferice had expected to have his correspondence examined, 
 he could not have arranged matters better for his own 
 safety. To trace the drafts to the person who sent them 
 was not an easy business ; it was impossible to introduce 
 a spy into the banking-house in Florence, and among the 
 many drafts daily bought and sold, it was almost impos 
 sible to identify, without the aid of the banker's books, 
 the person who chanced to buy any particular one. The 
 addresses were, it is true, uniformly written by the same 
 hand ; but the writing was in no way peculiar, and was 
 certainly not that of any prominent person whose auto 
 graph the Cardinal possessed. 
 
 The next step was to get possession of some letter written 
 by Del Ferice himself, and, if possible, to intercept every 
 thing he wrote. But although the letters containing the 
 drafts were regularly opened, and, after having been 
 examined and sealed again, were regularly transmitted 
 through the post-office to Ugo's address, the expert persons 
 set to catch the letters he himself wrote were obliged to 
 own, after three weeks' careful watching, that he never 
 seemed to write any letters at all, and that he certainly 
 never posted any. They acknowledged their failure to 
 the Cardinal with timid anxiety, expecting to be repri 
 manded for their carelessness. But the Cardinal merely 
 
424 SAEACINESCA. 
 
 told them not to relax their attention, and dismissed them 
 with a bland smile. He knew, now, that he was on the 
 track of mischief ; for a man who never writes any letters 
 at all, while he receives many, might reasonably be sus 
 pected of having a secret post-office of his own. For some 
 days Del Felice's movements were narrowly watched, but 
 with no result whatever. Then the Cardinal sent for the 
 police register of the district where Del Ferice lived, and 
 in which the name, nationality, and residence of every 
 individual in the " Rione " or quarter were carefully in 
 scribed, as they still are. 
 
 Running his eye down the list, the Cardinal came 
 upon the name of "Temistocle Fattorusso, of Naples, 
 servant to Ugo dei Conti del Ferice : " an idea struck 
 him. 
 
 " His servant is a Neapolitan," he reflected. " He 
 probably sends his letters by way of Naples." 
 
 Accordingly Temistocle was watched instead of his 
 master. It was found that he frequented the society of 
 other Neapolitans, and especially that he was in the habit 
 of going from time to time to the Ripa Grande, the port 
 of the Tiber, where he seemed to have numerous acquaint 
 ances among the Neapolitan boatmen who constantly 
 came up the coast in their "martingane" heavy, sea 
 going, lateen-rigged vessels, bringing cargoes of oranges 
 and lemons to the Eoman market. The mystery was 
 now solved. One day Temistocle was actually seen giving 
 a letter into the hands of a huge fellow in a red woollen 
 cap. The sbirro who saw him do it marked the sailor and 
 his vessel, and never lost sight of him till he hoisted his 
 jib and floated away down stream. Then the spy took 
 horse and galloped down to Fiumicino, where he waited 
 for the little vessel, boarded her from a boat, escorted by 
 a couple of gendarmes, and had no difficulty in taking 
 the letter from the terrified seaman, who was glad enough 
 to escape without detention. During the next fortnight 
 several letters were stopped in this way, carried by dif 
 ferent sailors, and the whole correspondence went straight 
 
SARACINESCA. 425 
 
 to the Cardinal. It was not often that he troubled him 
 self to play the detective in person, but when he did so, 
 he was not easily baffled. And now he observed that 
 about a week after the interception of the first letter the 
 small drafts which used to come so frequently to Del 
 Ferice's address from Florence suddenly ceased, proving 
 beyond a doubt that each letter was paid for according 
 to its value so soon as it was received. 
 
 With regard to the contents of these epistles little 
 need be said. So sure was Del Ferice of his means of 
 transmission that he did not even use a cipher, though 
 he, of course, never signed any of his writings. The 
 matter was invariably a detailed chronicle of E-oman 
 sayings and doings, a record as minute as Del Ferice 
 could make it, of everything that took place, and even the 
 Cardinal himself was astonished at the accuracy of the 
 information thus conveyed. His own appearances in 
 public the names of those with whom he talked even 
 fragments of his conversation were given with annoying 
 exactness. The statesman learned with infinite disgust 
 that he had for some time past been subjected to a system 
 of espionage at least as complete as any of his own inven 
 tion ; and, what was still more annoying to his vanity, 
 the spy was the man of all others whom he had most 
 despised, calling him harmless and weak, because he cun 
 ningly affected weakness. Where or how Del Ferice 
 procured so much information the Cardinal cared little 
 enough, for he determined there and then that he should 
 procure no more. That there were other traitors in the 
 camp was more than likely, and that they had aided Del 
 Ferice with their counsels ; but though by prolonging the 
 situation it might be possible to track them down, such 
 delay would be valuable to enemies abroad. Moreover, 
 if Del Ferice began to find out, as he soon must, that his 
 private correspondence was being .overhauled at the 
 Vatican, he was not a man to hesitate about attempting 
 his escape ; and he would certainly not be an easy man 
 to catch, if he could once succeed in putting a few miles 
 
426 . SABACINESCA. 
 
 of Campagna between himself and Rome. There was no 
 knowing what disguise he might not find in which to slip 
 over the frontier ; and indeed, as he afterwards proved, 
 he was well prepared for such an emergency. 
 
 The Cardinal did not hesitate. He had just received 
 the fourth letter, and if he waited any longer Del Ferice 
 would take alarm, and slip through his fingers. He wrote 
 with his own hand a note to the chief of police, ordering 
 the immediate arrest of Ugo dei Conti del Fence, with 
 instructions that he should be taken in his own house, 
 without any publicity, and conveyed in a private car 
 riage to the Sant' Uffizio by men in plain clothes. It was 
 six o'clock in the evening when he wrote the order, and 
 delivered it to his private servant to be taken to its des 
 tination. The man lost no time, and within twenty 
 minutes the chief of police was in possession of his 
 orders, which he hastened to execute with all possible 
 speed. Before seven o'clock two respectable-looking 
 citizens were seated in the chief's own carriage, driving 
 rapidly in the direction of Del Ferice's house. In less 
 than half an hour the man who had caused so much 
 trouble would be safely lodged in the prisons of the Holy 
 Office, to be judged for his sins as a political spy. In a 
 fortnight he was to have been married to Donna Tullia 
 Mayer, and her trousseau had just arrived from Paris. 
 
 It can hardly be said that the Cardinal's conduct was 
 unjustifiable, though many will say that Del Ferice's secret 
 doings were easily defensible on the ground of his patriot 
 ism. Cardinal Antonelli had precisely defined the situa 
 tion in his talk with Anastase Gouache by saying that the 
 temporal power was driven to bay. To all appearances 
 Europe was at peace, but as a matter of fact the peace was 
 but an armed neutrality. An amount of interest was con 
 centrated upon the situation of the Papal States which has 
 rarely been excited by events of much greater apparent 
 importance than the occupation of a small principality by 
 foreign troops. All Europe was arming. In a few months 
 Austria was to sustain one of the most sudden and over- 
 
SAKACINESCA. 427 
 
 whelming defeats recorded in military history. In a few 
 years the greatest military power in the world was to be 
 overtaken by an even more appalling disaster. And these 
 events, then close at hand, were to deal the death-blow to 
 papal independence. The papacy was driven to bay, and 
 those to whom the last defence was confided were certainly 
 justified in employing every means in their power for 
 strengthening their position. That Rome herself was 
 riddled with rotten conspiracies, and turned into a hunt 
 ing-ground for political spies, while the support she re 
 ceived from Louis Napoleon had been already partially 
 withdrawn, proves only how hard was the task of that 
 man who, against s*uch odds, maintained so gallant a fight. 
 It is no wonder that he hunted down spies, and signed 
 orders forcing suspicious characters to leave the city at a 
 day's notice ; for the city was practically in a state of 
 siege, and any relaxation of the iron discipline by which 
 the great Cardinal governed would at any moment in those 
 twenty years have proved disastrous. He was hated and 
 feared ; more than once he was in imminent danger of his 
 life, but he did his duty in his post. Had his authority 
 fallen, it is impossible to say what evil might have ensued 
 to the city and its inhabitants evils vastly more to be 
 feared than the entrance of an orderly Italian army through 
 the Porta Pia. For the recollections of Count Kossi's 
 murder, and of the short and lawless Republic of 1848, 
 were fresh in the minds of the people, and before they had 
 faded there were dangerous rumours of a rising even less 
 truly Republican in theory, and far more fatal in the prac 
 tical social anarchy which must have resulted from its 
 success. Giuseppe Mazzini had survived his arch-enemy, 
 the great Cavour, and his influence was incalculable. 
 
 But my business is not to write the history of those 
 uncertain days, though no one who considers the social 
 life of Rome, either then or now, can afford to overlook 
 the influence of political events upon the everyday doings 
 of men and women. We must follow the private carriage 
 containing the two respectable citizens who were on their 
 way to Del Ferice's house. 
 
428 SAKACINESCA. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 Now it chanced that Del Ferice was not at home at the 
 hour when the carriage containing the detectives drew up 
 at his door. Indeed he was rarely to be found at that 
 time, for when he was not engaged elsewhere, he dined 
 with Donna Tullia and her old countess, accompanying 
 them afterwards to any of the quiet Lenten receptions to 
 which they desired to go. Temistocle was also out, for it 
 was his hour for supper, a meal which he generally ate in 
 a small osteria opposite his master's lodging. There he 
 sat now, finishing his dish of beans and oil, and debating 
 whether he should indulge himself in another mezza fogli- 
 etta of his favourite white wine. He was installed upon 
 the wooden bench against the wall, behind the narrow 
 table on which was spread a dirty napkin with the remains 
 of his unctuous meal. The light from the solitary oil- 
 lamp that hung from the black ceiling was not brilliant, 
 and he could see well enough through the panes of the 
 glass door that the carriage which had just stopped on 
 the opposite side of the street was not a cab. Suspecting 
 that some one had called at that unusual hour in search 
 of his master, he rose from his seat and went out. 
 
 He stood looking at the carriage. It did not please 
 him. It had that peculiar look which used to mark the 
 equipages of the Vatican, and which to this day distin 
 guishes them from all others in the eyes of a born 
 Roman. The vehicle was of rather antiquated shape, 
 the horses were black, the coachman wore a plain black 
 coat, with a somewhat old-fashioned hat; withal, the 
 turnout was respectable enough, and well kept. But it 
 did not please Temistocle. Drawing his hat over his 
 eyes, he passed behind it, and having ascertained that 
 the occupants, if there had been any, had already en 
 tered the house, he himself went in. The narrow stair 
 case was dimly lighted by small oil-lamps. Temistocle 
 
SARACINESCA. 429 
 
 ascended the steps on tiptoe, for he could already hear 
 the men ringing the bell, and talking together in a low 
 voice. The Neapolitan crept nearer. Again and again 
 the bell was rung, and the men began to grow impatient. 
 
 " He has escaped," said one angrily. 
 
 " Perhaps or he has gone out to dinner much more 
 likely." 
 
 " We had better go away and come later," suggested 
 the first. 
 
 " He is sure to come home. We had better wait. The 
 orders are to take him in his lodgings." 
 
 " We might go into the osteria opposite and drink a 
 foglietta." 
 
 "No," said the other, who seemed to be the one in 
 authority. " We must wait here, if we wait till midnight. 
 Those are the orders." 
 
 The second detective grumbled something not clearly 
 audible, and silence ensued. But Temistocle had heard 
 quite enough. He was a quick-witted fellow, as has been 
 seen, much more anxious for his own interests than for his 
 master's, though he had hitherto found it easy to consult 
 both. Indeed, in a certain way he was faithful to Del 
 Ferice, and admired him as a soldier admires his general. 
 The resolution he now formed did honour to his loyalty to 
 Ugo and to his thievish instincts. He determined to save 
 his master if he could, and to rob him at his leisure after 
 wards. If Del Ferice failed to escape, he would probably 
 reward Temistocle for having done his best to help him ; 
 if, on the other hand, he got away, Temistocle had the key 
 of his lodgings, and would help himself. But there was 
 one difficulty in the way. Del Ferice was in evening dress 
 at the house of Donna Tullia. In such a costume he 
 would have no chance of passing the gates, which in those 
 days were closed and guarded all night. Del Ferice was a 
 cautious man, and, like many another in those days, kept 
 in his rooms a couple of disguises which might serve if he 
 was hard pressed. His ready money he always carried 
 
 with him, because he frequently went into the club before 
 Vol. 1019 
 
4SO SARACINESCA. 
 
 coming home, and played a game of ecarte, in which he 
 was usually lucky. The question was how to enter the 
 lodgings, to get possession of the necessary clothes, and 
 to go out again, without exciting the suspicions of the 
 detectives. 
 
 Temistocle's mind was soon made up. He crept softly 
 down the stairs, so as not to appear to have been too near, 
 and then, making as much noise as he could, ascended 
 boldly, drawing the key of the lodgings from his pocket as 
 he reached the landing where the two men stood under the 
 little oil-lamp. 
 
 " Buona sera, signori" he said, politely, thrusting the 
 key into the lock without hesitation. " Did you wish to 
 see the Conte del Ferice ? " 
 
 "Yes," answered the elder man, affecting an urbane 
 manner. " Is the Count at home ? " 
 
 " I do not think so," returned the Neapolitan. " But 
 I will see. Come in, gentlemen. He will not be long 
 sempre verso quest'ora he always comes home about this 
 time." 
 
 " Thank you," said the detective. " If you will allow 
 us to wait " 
 
 " Altro what ? Should I leave the padrone's friends 
 on the stairs ? Come in, gentlemen sit down. It is 
 dark. I will light the lamp." And striking a match, 
 Temistocle lit a couple of candles and placed them upon 
 the table of the small sitting-room The two men -sat 
 down, holding their hats upon their knees. 
 
 "If you will excuse me," said Temistocle, "I will go and 
 make the signore's coffee. He dines at the restaurant, and 
 always comes home for his coffee. Perhaps the signori will 
 also take a cup ? It is the same to make three as one." 
 
 But the men thanked Temistocle, and said they wanted 
 none, which was just as well, since Temistocle had no idea 
 of giving them any. He retired, however, to the small 
 kitchen which belongs to every Roman lodging, and made 
 a great clattering with the coffee-pot. Presentty he slipped 
 into Del Fence's bedroom, and extracted from a dark corner 
 
SAKACINESCA. 431 
 
 a shabby black bag, which he took back with him into the 
 kitchen. From the kitchen window ran the usual iron wire 
 to the well in the small court, bearing an iron traveller with 
 a rope for drawing water. Temistocle, clattering loudly, 
 hooked the bag to the traveller and let it run down noisily ; 
 then he tied the rope and went out. He had carefully 
 closed the door of the sitting-room, but he had been careful 
 to leave the door which opened upon the stairs unlatched. 
 He crept noiselessly out, and leaving the door still open, 
 rushed down-stairs, turned into the little court, unhooked 
 his bag from the rope, and taking it in his hand, passed 
 quietly out into the street. The coachman was dozing upon 
 the box of the carriage which still waited before the door, 
 and would not have noticed Temistocle had he been awake. 
 In a moment more the Neapolitan was beyond pursuit. In 
 the Piazza di Spagna he hailed a cab and drove rapidly to 
 Donna Tullia's house, where he paid the man and sent him 
 away. The servants knew him well enough, for scarcely 
 a day passed without his bringing some note or message 
 from his master to Madame Mayer. He sent in to say that 
 he must speak to his master on business. Del Ferice came 
 out hastily in considerable agitation, which was by no 
 means diminished by the sight of the well-known shabby 
 black bag. 
 
 Temistocle glanced round the hall to see that they were 
 alone. 
 
 "The forza the police," he whispered, "are in the 
 house, Eccellenza. Here is the bag. Save yourself, for 
 the love of heaven ! " 
 
 Del Fence turned ghastly pale, and his face twitched 
 nervously. 
 
 " But " he began, and then staggering back leaned 
 
 against the wall. 
 
 " Quick fly ! " urged Temistocle, shaking him roughly 
 by the arm. " It is the Holy Office you have time. I 
 told them you would be back, and they are waiting quietly 
 they will wait all night. Here is your overcoat," he 
 added, almost forcing his master into the garment " and 
 
432 SARACINESCA. 
 
 your hat here ! Come along, there is no time to lose. 
 I will take you to a place where you can dress." 
 
 Del Ferice submitted almost blindly. By especial 
 good fortune the footman did not come out into the hall. 
 Donna Tullia and her guests had finished dinner, and the 
 servants had retired to theirs ; indeed the footman had 
 complained to Temistocle of being called away from his 
 meal to open the door. The Neapolitan pushed his master 
 out upon the stairs, urging him to use all speed. As the 
 two men hurried along the dark street they conversed in 
 low tones. Del Ferice was trembling in every joint. 
 
 " But Donna Tullia," he almost whined. " I cannot 
 leave her so she must know " 
 
 " Save your own skin from the Holy Office, master," 
 answered Temistocle, dragging him along as fast as he 
 could. " I will go back and tell your lady, never fear. 
 She will leave Rome to-morrow. Of course you will go 
 to Naples. She will follow you. She will be there before 
 you." 
 
 Del Ferice mumbled an unintelligible answer. His 
 teeth were chattering with cold and fear ; but as he began 
 to realise his extreme peril, terror lent wings to his heels, 
 and he almost outstripped the nimble Temistocle in the 
 race for safety. They reached at last the ruined part 
 of the city near the Porta Maggiore, and in the shadow 
 of the deep archway where the road branches to the 
 right towards Santa Croce in Gerusalemme, Temistocle 
 halted. 
 
 "Here," he said, shortly. Del Ferice said never a 
 word, but began to undress himself in the dark. It was 
 a gloomy and lowering night, the roads were muddy, and 
 from time to time a few drops of cold rain fell silently, 
 portending a coming storm. In a few moments the trans 
 formation was complete, and Del Ferice stood by his ser 
 vant's side in the shabby brown cowl and rope-girdle of 
 a Capuchin monk. 
 
 "Now comes the hard part," said Temistocle, produc 
 ing a razor and a pair of scissors from the bottom of the 
 
SABACINESCA. 433 
 
 bag. Del Ferice had too often contemplated the possi 
 bility of flight to have omitted so important a detail. 
 
 " You cannot see you will cut my throat/' he mur 
 mured plaintively. 
 
 But the fellow was equal to the emergency. Retiring 
 deeper into the recess of the arch, he lit a cigar, and hold 
 ing it between his teeth, puffed violently at it, producing a 
 feeble light by which he could just see his master's face. 
 He was in the habit of shaving him, and had no difficulty 
 in removing the fair moustache from his upper lip. Then, 
 making him hold his head down, and puffing harder than 
 ever, he cropped his thin hair, and managed to make a 
 tolerably respectable tonsure. But the whole operation 
 had consumed half an hour at the least, and Del Ferice 
 was trembling still. Temistocle thrust the clothes into 
 his bag. 
 
 "My watch!" objected the unfortunate man, "and 
 my pearl studs give them to me what ? You villain ! 
 you thief ! you " 
 
 " No chiacchiere, no talk, padrone," interrupted Temis 
 tocle, snapping the lock of the bag. "If you chance to 
 be searched, it would ill become a mendicant friar to be 
 carrying gold watches and pearl studs. I will give them 
 to Donna Tullia this very evening. You have money 
 you can say that you are taking that to your convent." 
 
 " Swear to give the watch to Donna Tullia," said Del 
 Ferice. Whereupon Temistocle swore a terrible oath, 
 which he did not fail to break, of course. But his mas 
 ter had to be satisfied, and when all was completed the 
 two parted company. 
 
 " I will ask Donna Tullia -to take me to Naples on her 
 passport," said the Neapolitan. 
 
 "Take care of my things, Temistocle. Burn all the 
 papers if you can though I suppose the sbirri have got 
 them by this time. Bring my clothes if you steal any 
 thing, remember there are knives in Borne, and I know 
 where to write to have them used." Whereat Temistocle 
 broke into a torrent of protestations. How could his 
 
434 SARACINESCA. 
 
 master think that, after saving him at such risk, his 
 faithful servant would plunder him ? 
 
 " Well," said Del Ferice, thoughtfully, " you are a great 
 scoundrel, you know. But you have saved me, as you say. 
 There is a scudo for you." 
 
 Temistocle never refused anything. He took the coin, 
 kissed his master's hand as a final exhibition of servility, 
 and turned back towards the city without another word. 
 Del Ferice shuddered, and drew his heavy cowl over his 
 head as he began -to walk quickly towards the Porta Mag- 
 giore. Then he took the inside road, skirting the walls 
 through the mud to the Porta San Lorenzo. He was per 
 fectly safe in his disguise. He had dined abundantly, he 
 had money in his pocket, and he had escaped the clutches 
 of the Holy Office. A barefooted friar might walk for 
 days unchallenged through the Koman Campagna and the 
 neighbouring hills, and it was not far to the south-eastern, 
 frontier. He did not know the way beyond Tivoli, but he 
 could inquire without exciting the least suspicion. There 
 are few disguises more complete than the garb of a Capu 
 chin monk, and Del Ferice had long contemplated playing 
 the part, for it was one which eminently suited him. His 
 face, much thinner now than formerly, was yet naturally 
 round, and without his moustache would certainly pass for 
 a harmless clerical visage. He had received an excellent 
 education, and knew vastly more Latin than the majority 
 of mendicant monks. As a good Koman he was well ac 
 quainted with every convent in the city, and knew the 
 names of all the chief dignitaries of the Capuchin order. 
 When a lad he had frequently served at Mass, and was 
 acquainted with most of the .ordinary details of monastic 
 life. The worst that could happen to him might be to be 
 called upon in the course of his travels to hear the dying 
 confession of some poor wretch who had been stabbed 
 after a game of mora. His case was altogether not so bad 
 as might seem, considering the far greater evils he had 
 escaped. 
 
 At the Porta San Lorenzo the gates were closed as 
 
SARACINESCA. 435 
 
 usual, but the dozing watchman let Del Ferice out of the 
 small door without remark. Any one might leave the 
 city, though it required a pass to gain admittance during 
 the night. The heavily-ironed oak clanged behind the 
 fugitive, and he breathed more freely as he stepped upon 
 the road to Tivoli. In an hour he had crossed the Ponte 
 Mammolo, shuddering as he looked down through the deep 
 gloom at the white foam of the Teverone, swollen with 
 the winter rains. But the fear of the Holy Office was 
 behind him, and he hurried on his lonely way, walking 
 painfully in the sandals he had been obliged to put on 
 to complete his disguise, sinking occasionally ankle-deep 
 in mud, and then trudging over a long stretch of broken 
 stones where the road had been mended ; but not notic 
 ing nor caring for pain and fatigue, while he felt that 
 every minute took him nearer to the frontier hills where 
 he would be safe from pursuit. And so he toiled on, till 
 he smelled the fetid air of the sulphur springs full four 
 teen miles from Rome ; and at last, as the road began to 
 rise towards Hadrian's Villa, he sat down upon a stone 
 by the wayside to rest a little. He had walked five hours 
 through the darkness, seeing but a few yards of the broad 
 road before him as he went. He was weary and footsore, 
 and the night was growing wilder with gathering wind 
 and rain as the storm swept down the mountains and 
 through the deep gorge of Tivoli on its way to the deso 
 late black Campagna. He felt that if he did not die of 
 exposure he was safe, and to a man in his condition bad 
 weather is the least of evils. 
 
 His reflections were not sweet. Five hours earlier he 
 had been dressed as a fine gentleman should be, seated at 
 a luxurious table in the company of a handsome and 
 amusing woman who was to be his wife. He could still 
 almost taste the delicate chaudfroid, the tender woodcock, 
 the dry champagne; he could still almost hear Donna 
 Tullia's last noisy sally ringing in his ears and behold, 
 he was now sitting by the roadside in the rain, in the 
 wretched garb of a begging monk, five hours' journey from 
 
436 SABACINESCA. 
 
 Rome. He had left his affianced bride without a word of 
 warning, had abandoned all his possessions to Temistocle 
 that scoundrelly thief Temistocle ! and he was utterly 
 alone. 
 
 But as he rested himself, drawing his monk's hood 
 closely over his head and trying to warm his freezing 
 feet with the skirts of his rough brown frock, he reflected 
 that if he ever got safely across the frontier he would be 
 treated as a patriot, as a man who had suffered for the 
 cause, and certainly as a man who deserved to be rewarded. 
 He reflected that Donna Tullia was a woman who had a 
 theatrical taste for romance, and that his present position 
 was in theory highly romantic, however uncomfortable it 
 might be in the practice. When he was safe his story 
 would be told in the newspapers, and he would himself 
 take care that it was made interesting. Donna Tullia 
 would read it, would be fascinated by the tale of his 
 sufferings, and would follow him. His marriage with her 
 would then add immense importance to his own position. 
 He would play his cards well, and with her wealth at his 
 disposal he might aspire to any distinction he coveted. 
 He only wished the situation could have been prolonged 
 for three weeks, till he was actually married. Meanwhile 
 he must take courage and push on, beyond the reach of 
 pursuit. If once he could gain Subiaco, he could be over 
 the frontier in twelve hours. From Tivoli there were 
 vetture up the valley, cheap conveyances for the country 
 people, in which a barefooted friar could travel unnoticed. 
 He knew that he must cross the boundary by Trevi and 
 the Serra di Sant' Antonio. He would inquire the way 
 from Subiaco. 
 
 While Del Ferice was thus making his way across the 
 Campagna, Temistocle was taking measures for his own 
 advantage and safety. He had the bag with his master's 
 clothes, the valuable watch and chain, and the pearl studs. 
 He had also the key to Del Ferice's lodgings, of which 
 he promised himself to make some use, as soon as he 
 should be sure that the detectives had left the house, 
 
SARACINESCA. 437 
 
 In the first place he made up his mind to leave Donna 
 Tullia in ignorance of his master's sudden departure. 
 There was nothing to be gained by telling her the news, 
 for she would probably in her rash way go to Del Ferice's 
 house herself, as she had done once before, and on finding 
 he was actually gone she would take charge of his effects, 
 whereby Temistocle would be the loser. As he walked 
 briskly away from the ruinous district near the Porta 
 Maggiore, and began to see the lights of the city gleam 
 ing before him, his courage rose in his breast. He remem 
 bered how easily he had eluded the detectives an hour 
 and a half before, and he determined to cheat them 
 again. 
 
 But he had reckoned unwisely. Before he had been 
 gone ten minutes the two men suspected, from the pro 
 longed silence, that something was wrong, and after search 
 ing the lodging perceived that the polite servant who had 
 offered them coffee had left the house without taking 
 leave. One of the two immediately drove to the house 
 of his chief and asked for instructions. The order to 
 arrest the servant if he appeared again came back at once. 
 The consequence was that when Temistocle boldly opened 
 the door with a ready framed excuse for his absence, he 
 was suddenly pinioned by four strong arms, dragged into 
 the sitting-room, and told to hold his tongue in the name 
 of the law. And that is the last that was heard of Temis 
 tocle for some time. But when the day dawned the men 
 knew that Del Ferice had escaped them. 
 
 The affair had not been well managed. The Cardinal 
 was a good detective, but a bad policeman. In his haste 
 he had made the mistake of ordering Del Ferice to be 
 arrested instantly and in his lodgings. Had the statesman 
 simply told the chief of police to secure Ugo as soon as 
 possible without any scandal, he could not have escaped. 
 But the officer interpreted the Cardinal's note to mean that 
 Del Ferice was actually at his lodgings when the order was 
 given. The Cardinal was supposed to be omniscient by 
 his subordinates, and no one ever thought of giving any 
 
438 SARACINESCA. 
 
 interpretation not perfectly literal to his commands. Of 
 course the Cardinal was at once informed, and telegrams 
 and mounted detectives were dispatched in all directions. 
 But Del Ferice's disguise was good, and when just after 
 sunrise a gendarme galloped into Tivoli, he did not suspect 
 that the travel-stained and pale-faced friar, who stood tell 
 ing his beads before the shrine just outside the Eoman 
 gate, was the political delinquent whom he was sent to 
 overtake. 
 
 Donna Tullia spent an anxious night. She sent down to 
 Del Ferice's lodgings, as Temistocle had anticipated, and the 
 servant brought back word that he had not seen the Neapol 
 itan, and that the house was held in possession by strangers, 
 who refused him admittance. Madame Mayer understood 
 well enough what had happened, and began to tremble for 
 herself. Indeed she began to think of packing together her 
 own valuables, in case she should be ordered to leave Rome, 
 for she did not doubt that the Holy Office was in pursuit 
 of Del Ferice, in consequence of some discovery relating to 
 her little club of malcontents. She trembled for Ugo with 
 an anxiety more genuine than any feeling of hers had been 
 for many a day, not knowing whether he had escaped or 
 not. But on the following evening she was partially reas 
 sured by hearing from Valdarno that the police had offered 
 a large reward for Del Ferice's apprehension. Yaldarno 
 declared his intention of leaving Rome at once. His life, 
 he said, was not safe for a moment. That villain Gouache, 
 who had turned Zouave, had betrayed them all, and they 
 might be lodged in the Sant' Uffizio any day. As a mat 
 ter of fact, after he discovered how egregiously he had 
 been deceived by Del Ferice, the Cardinal grew more sus 
 picious, and his emissaries were more busy than they had 
 been before. But Valdarno had never manifested enough 
 wisdom, nor enough folly, to make him a cause of anxiety 
 to the Prime Minister. Nevertheless he actually left 
 Rome and spent a long time in Paris before he was in 
 duced to believe that he might safely return to his home. 
 
 Roman society was shaken to its foundations by the 
 
SARACINESCA. 439 
 
 news of the attempted arrest, and Donna Tullia found 
 some slight compensation in becoming for a time the 
 centre of interest. She felt, indeed, great anxiety for 
 the man she was engaged to marry ; but for the first time 
 in her life she felt also that she was living in an element 
 of real romance, of which she had long dreamed, but of 
 which she had never found the smallest realisation. So 
 ciety saw, and speculated, and gossiped, after its fashion ; 
 but its gossip was more subdued than of yore, for men 
 began to ask who was safe, since the harmless Del Ferice 
 had been proscribed. Old Saracinesca said little. He 
 would have gone to see the Cardinal and to offer him his 
 congratulations, since it would not be decent to offer 
 his thanks ; but the Cardinal was not in a position to be 
 congratulated. If he had caught Del Ferice he would 
 have thanked the Prince instead of waiting for any ex 
 pressions of gratitude ; but he did not catch Del Ferice, 
 for certain very good reasons which will appear in the 
 last scene of this comedy. 
 
 Three days after Ugo's disappearance, the old Prince 
 got into his carriage and drove out to Saracinesca. More 
 than a month had elapsed since the marriage, and he felt 
 that he must see his son, even at the risk of interrupt 
 ing the honeymoon. On the whole, he felt that his re 
 venge had been inadequate. Del Ferice had escaped the 
 Holy Office, no one knew how ; and Donna Tullia, instead 
 of being profoundly humiliated, as she would have been 
 had Del Ferice been tried as a common spy, was become 
 a centre of attraction and interest, because her affianced 
 husband had for some unknown cause incurred the dis 
 pleasure of the great Cardinal, almost on the eve of her 
 marriage a state of things significant as regards the tone 
 of Eoman society. Indeed the whole circumstance, which 
 was soon bruited about among all classes with the most 
 lively adornment and exaggeration, tended greatly to in 
 crease the fear and hatred which high and low alike 
 felt for Cardinal Antonelli the man who was always ac 
 cused and never heard in his own defence. 
 
440 SAEACINESCA. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 People wondered that Giovanni and Corona should have 
 chosen to retire into the country for their honeymoon, in 
 stead of travelling to France and England, and ending 
 their wedding-trip in Switzerland. The hills were so very 
 cold at that early season, and besides, they would be ut 
 terly alone. People could not understand why Corona 
 did not take advantage of the termination of her widow 
 hood to mix at once with the world, and indemnify herself 
 for the year of mourning by a year of unusual gaiety. But 
 there were many, on the other hand, who loudly applauded 
 the action, which, it was maintained, showed a wise spirit 
 of economy, and contrasted very favourably with the ex 
 travagance recently exhibited by young couples who in 
 reality had far more cause to be careful of their money. 
 Those who held this view belonged to the old, patriarchal 
 class, the still flourishing remnant of the last generation, 
 who prided themselves upon good management, good 
 morals, and ascetic living ; the class of people in whose 
 marriage-contracts it was stipulated that the wife was to 
 have meat twice a-day, excepting on fast days, a drive 
 the trottata, as it used to be called daily, and two new 
 gowns every year. Even in our times, when most of that 
 generation are dead, these clauses are often introduced ; 
 in the first half of the century they were universal. A 
 little earlier it used to be stipulated that the " meat " was 
 not to be copra, goafs-flesh, which was considered to be 
 food fit only for servants. But the patriarchal generation 
 were a fine old class in spite of their economy, and they 
 loudly aplauded Giovanni's conduct. 
 
 No one, however, understood that the solitude of Sara- 
 cinesca was really the greatest luxury the newly-married 
 couple could desire. They wanted to be left alone, and they 
 got their wish. No one had known of the preparations 
 Giovanni had made for his wife's reception, and had any 
 
SAEACINESCA. 441 
 
 idea of the changes in the castle reached the ears of the 
 aforesaid patriarchs, they would probably have changed 
 their minds in regard to Giovanni's economy. The Sara- 
 cinesca were not ostentatious, but they spent their money 
 royally in their own quiet way, and the interior of the old 
 stronghold had undergone a complete transformation, while 
 the ancient grey stones of the outer walls and towers 
 frowned as gloomily as ever upon the valley. Vast halls 
 had been decorated and furnished in a style suited to the 
 antiquity of the fortress, small sunny rooms had been fitted 
 up with the more refined luxury which was beginning to 
 be appreciated in Italy twenty years ago. A great con 
 servatory had been built out upon the southern battlement. 
 The aqueduct had been completed successfully, and foun 
 tains now played in the courts. The old-fashioned fire 
 places had been again put into use, and huge logs burned 
 upon huge fire-dogs in the halls, shedding a ruddy glow 
 upon the trophies of old armour, the polished floors, and 
 the heavy curtains. Quantities of magnificent tapestry, 
 some of which had been produced when Corona first 
 visited the castle, were now hung upon the stairs and in 
 the corridors. The great baldacchino, the canopy which 
 Roman princes are privileged to display in their ante 
 chambers, was draped above the quartered arms of Sara- 
 cinesca and Astrardente, and the same armorial bearings 
 appeared in rich stained glass in the window of the grand 
 staircase. The solidity and rare strength of the ancient 
 stronghold seemed to grow even more imposing under the 
 decorations and improvements of a later age, and for the 
 first time Giovanni felt that justice had been done to 
 the splendour of his ancestral home. 
 
 Here he and his dark bride dwelt in perfect unity and 
 happiness, in the midst of their own lands, surrounded by 
 their own people, and wholly devoted to each other. But 
 though much of the day was passed in that unceasing con 
 versation and exchange of ideas which seem to belong ex 
 clusively to happily-wedded man and wife, the hours were 
 not wholly idle. Daily the two mounted their horses and 
 
442 SARACINESCA. 
 
 rode along the level stretch towards Aquaviva till they 
 came to the turning from which Corona had first caught 
 sight of Saracinesca. Here a broad road was already 
 broken out ; the construction was so far advanced that two 
 miles at least were already serviceable, the gentle grade 
 winding backwards and forwards, crossing and recrossing 
 the old bridle-path as it descended to the valley below ; 
 and now from the furthest point completed Corona could 
 distinguish in the dim distance the great square palace of 
 Astrardente crowning the hills above the town. Thither 
 the two rode daily, pushing on the work, consulting with 
 the engineer they employed, and often looking forward 
 to the day when for the first time their carriage should roll 
 smoothly down from Saracinesca to Astrardente without 
 making the vast detour which the old road followed as it 
 skirted the mountain. There was an inexpressible pleasure 
 in watching the growth of the work they had so long con 
 templated, in speculating on the advantages they would 
 obtain by so uniting their respective villages, and in feeling 
 that, being at last one, they were working together for the 
 good of their people. For the men who did the work were 
 without exception their own peasants, who were unem 
 ployed during the winter time, and who, but for the timely 
 occupation provided for them, would have spent the cold 
 months in that state of half-starved torpor peculiar to the 
 indigent agricultural labourer when he has nothing to do 
 at that bittter season when father and mother and 
 shivering little ones watch wistfully the ever-dwindling 
 sack of maize, as day by day two or three handfuls are 
 ground between the stones of the hand-mill and kneaded 
 into a thick unwholesome dough, the only food of the 
 poorer peasants in the winter. But now every man who 
 could handle pickaxe and bore, and sledge-hammer and 
 spade, was out upon the road from dawn to dark, and 
 every Saturday night each man took home a silver scudo 
 in his pocket; and where people are sober and do not 
 drink their wages, a silver scudo goes a long way fur 
 ther than nothing. Yet many a lean and swarthy fel- 
 
SARACINESCA. 443 
 
 low there would have felt that he was cheated if besides 
 his money he had not carried home daily the remembrance 
 of that tall dark lady's face and kindly eyes and encour 
 aging voice, and they used to watch for the coming of 
 the " gran principessa " as anxiously as they expected the 
 coming of the steward with the money-bags on a Saturday 
 evening. Often, too, the wives and daughters of the 
 rough workers would bring the men their dinners at noon 
 day, rather than let them carry away their food with them 
 in the morning, just for the sake of catching a sight of Cor 
 ona, and of her broad-shouldered manly husband. And the 
 men worked with a right good will, for the story had 
 gone abroad that for years to come there would be no 
 lack of work for willing hands. 
 
 So the days sped, and were not interrupted by any in 
 cident for several weeks. One day Gouache, the artist 
 Zouave, called at the castle. He had been quartered at 
 Subiaco with a part of his company, but had not been sent 
 on at once to Saracinesca as he had expected. Now, how 
 ever, he had arrived with a small detachment of half-a- 
 dozen men, with instructions to watch the pass. There 
 was nothing extraordinary in his being sent in that direc 
 tion, for Saracinesca was very near the frontier, and lay 
 on one of the direct routes to the Serra di Sant' Antonio, 
 which was the shortest hill-route into the kingdom of 
 Naples ; the country around was thought to be particu 
 larly liable to disturbance, and though no one had seen a 
 brigand there for some years, the mountain-paths were 
 supposed to be infested with robbers. As a matter of 
 fact there was a great deal of smuggling carried on 
 through the pass, and from time to time some political 
 refugee found his way across the frontier at that point. 
 
 Gouache was received very well by Giovanni, and rather 
 coldly by Corona, who knew him but slightly. 
 
 " I congratulate you," said Giovanni, noticing the stripes 
 on the young man's sleeves ; " I see that you have risen in 
 grade. 7 ' 
 
 "Yes. I hold an important command of six men. I 
 
444 SARACINESCA. 
 
 spend much time in studying the strategy of Conde and 
 Napoleon. By the bye, I am here on a very important 
 mission." 
 
 "Indeed!" 
 
 "I suppose you give yourselves the luxury of never read 
 ing the papers in this delightful retreat. The day before 
 yesterday the Cardinal attempted to arrest our friend Del 
 Ferice have you heard that ? " 
 
 "No what has he escaped?" asked Giovanni and 
 Corona in a breath. But their tones were different. 
 Giovanni had anticipated the news, and was disgusted at 
 the idea that the fellow had got off. Corona was merely 
 surprised. 
 
 "Yes. Heaven knows how he has escaped. I am 
 here to cut him off if he tries to get to the Serra di Sant' 
 Antonio." 
 
 Giovanni laughed. 
 
 " He will scarcely try to come this way under the very 
 walls of my house," he said. 
 
 " He may do anything. He is a slippery fellow." Gou 
 ache proceeded to tell all he knew of the circumstances. 
 
 " That is very strange," said Corona, thoughtfully. Then 
 after a pause, she added, " We are going to visit our road, 
 Monsieur Gouache. Will you not come with us ? My 
 husband will give you a horse." 
 
 Gouache was charmed. He preferred talking to Gio 
 vanni and looking at Corona's face to returning to his six 
 Zouaves, or patrolling the hills in search of Del Ferice. In 
 a few minutes the three were mounted, and riding slowly 
 along the level stretch towards the works. As they entered 
 the new road Giovanni and Corona unconsciously fell into 
 conversation, as usual, about what they were doing, and for 
 got their visitor. Gouache dropped behind, watching the 
 pair and admiring them with true artistic appreciation. He 
 had a Parisian's love of luxury and perfect appointments as 
 well as an artist's love of beauty, and his eyes rested with 
 unmitigated pleasure on the riders and their horses, losing 
 no detail of their dress, their simple English accoutrements, 
 
SAKACINESCA. 445 
 
 their firm seats and graceful carriage. But at a turn of the 
 grade the two riders suddenly slipped from his field of 
 vision, and his attention was attracted to the marvellous 
 beauty of the landscape, as looking down the valley towards 
 Astrardente he saw range on range of purple hills rising in 
 a deep perspective, crowned with jagged rocks or sharply 
 defined brown villages, ruddy in the lowering sun. He 
 stopped his horse and sat motionless, drinking in the love 
 liness before him. So it is that accidents in nature make 
 accidents in the lives of men. 
 
 But Giovanni and Corona rode slowly down the gentle 
 incline, hardly noticing that Gouache had stopped be 
 hind, and talking of the work. As they again turned a 
 curve of the grade Corona, who was on the inside, looked 
 up and caught sight of Gouache's motionless figure at 
 the opposite extremity of the gradient they had just de 
 scended. Giovanni looked straight before him, and was 
 aware of a pale-faced Capuchin friar who with downcast 
 eyes was toiling up the road, seemingly exhausted ; a 
 particularly weather-stained and dilapidated friar even 
 for those wild mountains. 
 
 " Gouache is studying geography," remarked Corona. 
 
 " Another of those Capuccini ! " exclaimed Giovanni, 
 instinctively feeling in his pocket for coppers. Then 
 with a sudden movement he seized his wife's arm. She 
 was close to him as they rode slowly along side by side. 
 
 "Good God! Corona," he cried, "it is Del Ferice!" 
 Corona looked quickly at the monk. His cowl was raised 
 enough to show his features; but she would, perhaps, 
 not have recognised his smooth shaven face had Gio 
 vanni not called her attention to it. 
 
 Del Ferice had recognised them too, and, horror-struck, 
 he paused, trembling and uncertain what to do. He had 
 taken the wrong turn from the main road below ; unac 
 customed to the dialect of the hills, he had misunder 
 stood the peasant who had told him especially not to 
 take the bridle-path if he wished to avoid Saracinesca. 
 He stopped, hesitated, and then, pulling his cowl over 
 
446 SARACINESCA. 
 
 his face, walked steadily on. Giovanni glanced up and 
 saw that Gouache was slowly descending the road, still 
 absorbed in contemplating the landscape. 
 
 "Let him take his chance," muttered Saracinesca. 
 "What should I care?" 
 
 " No no ! Save him, Giovanni, he looks so miser 
 able," cried Corona, with ready sympathy. She was pale 
 with excitement. 
 
 Giovanni looked at her one moment and hesitated, but 
 her pleading eyes were not to be refused. 
 
 " Then gallop back, darling. Tell Gouache it is cold 
 in the valley anything. Make him go back with you 
 I will save him since you wish it." 
 
 Corona wheeled her horse without a word and cantered 
 up the hill again. The monk had continued his slow 
 walk, and was now almost at Giovanni's saddle-bow. 
 The latter drew rein, staring hard at the pale features 
 under the cowl. 
 
 " If you go on you are lost," he said, in low distinct 
 tones. " The Zouaves are waiting for you. Stop, I say ! " 
 he exclaimed, as the monk attempted to pass on. Leap 
 ing to the ground Giovanni seized his arm and held him 
 tightly. Then Del Ferice broke down. 
 
 " You will not give me up for the love of Christ ! " 
 he whined. " Oh, if you have any pity let me go I 
 never meant to harm you " 
 
 "Look here," said Giovanni. "I would just as soon 
 give you up to the Holy Office as not ; but my wife asked 
 me to save you " 
 
 " God bless her ! Oh, the saints bless her ! God 
 render her kindness ! " blubbered Del Ferice, who, between 
 fear and exhaustion, was by this time half idiotic. 
 
 " Silence ! " said Giovanni, sternly. " You may thank 
 her if you ever have a chance. Come with me quietly. 
 I will send one of the workmen round the hill with you. 
 You must sleep at Trevi, and then get over the Serra as 
 best you can." He ran his arm through the bridle of his 
 horse and walked by his enemy's side. 
 
SARACINESCA. 447 
 
 " You will not give me up," moaned the wretched man. 
 " For the love of heaven do not betray me I have come 
 so far I am so tired." 
 
 " The wolves may make a meal of you, for all I care," 
 returned Giovanni. " I will not. I give you my word 
 that I will send you safely on, if you will stop this whin 
 ing and behave like a man." 
 
 At that moment Del Ferice was past taking offence, 
 but for many a year afterwards the rough words rankled 
 in his heart. Giovanni was brutal for once ; he longed 
 to wring the fellow's neck, or to give him up to Gouache 
 and the Zouaves. The tones of Ugo's voice reminded 
 him of injuries not so old as to be yet forgotten. But 
 he smothered his wrath and strode on, having promised 
 his wife to save the wretch, much against his will. It 
 was a quarter of an hour before they reached the works, 
 the longest quarter of an hour Del Ferice remembered in 
 his whole life. Neither spoke a word. Giovanni hailed 
 a sturdy-looking fellow who was breaking stones by the 
 roadside. 
 
 " Get up, Carluccio," he said. " This good monk has 
 lost his way. You must take him round the mountain, 
 above Ponza to Arcinazzo, and show him the road to 
 Trevi. It is a long way, but the road is good enough 
 after Ponza it is shorter than to go round by Saracin- 
 esca, and the good friar is in a hurry." 
 
 Carluccio started up with alacrity. He greatly pre 
 ferred roaming about the hills to breaking stones, pro 
 vided he was paid for it. He picked up his torn jacket 
 and threw it over one shoulder, setting his battered hat 
 jauntily on his thick black curls. 
 
 " Give us a benediction, padre mio, and let us be off 
 non & mica un passo it is a good walk to Trevi." 
 
 Del Ferice hesitated. He hardly knew what to do or 
 say, and even if he had wished to speak he was scarcely 
 able to control his voice. Giovanni cut the situation 
 short by turning on his heel and mounting his horse. A 
 moment later he was cantering up the road again, to the 
 
448 SABACINESCA. 
 
 considerable astonishment of the labourers, who were ac 
 customed to see him spend at least half an hour in exam 
 ining the work done. But G-iovamii was in no humour 
 to talk about roads. He had spent a horrible quarter of 
 an hour, between his desire to see Del Ferice punished 
 and the promise he had given his wife to save him. He 
 felt so little sure of himself that he never once looked 
 back, lest he should be tempted to send a second man to 
 stop the fugitive and deliver him up to justice. He 
 ground his teeth together, and his heart was full of bit 
 ter curses as he rode up the hill, hardly daring to reflect 
 upon what he had done. That, in the eyes of the law, 
 he had wittingly helped a traitor to escape, troubled his 
 conscience little. His instinct bade him destroy Del 
 Ferice by giving him up, and he would have saved him 
 self a vast deal of trouble if he had followed his impulse. 
 But the impulse really arose from a deep-rooted desire 
 for revenge, which, having resisted, he regretted bitterly 
 very much as Shakespeare's murderer complained to 
 his companion that the devil was at his elbow bidding 
 him not murder the duke. Giovanni spared his enemy 
 solely to please his wife, and half-a-dozen words from 
 her had produced a result which no consideration of 
 mercy or pity could have brought about. 
 
 Corona and Gouache had halted at the top of the road 
 to wait for him. By an inperceptible nod, Giovanni in 
 formed his wife that Del Ferice was safe. 
 
 " I am sorry to have cut short our ride," he said, coldly. 
 " My wife found it chilly in the valley." 
 
 Anastase looked curiously at Giovanni's pale face, and 
 wondered whether anything was wrong. Corona herself 
 seemed strangely agitated. 
 
 " Yes," answered Gouache, with his gentle smile ; " the 
 mountain air is still cold." 
 
 So the three rode silently back to the castle, and at the 
 gate Gouache dismounted and left them, politely declinx 
 ing a rather cold invitation to come in. Giovanni and 
 Corona went silently up the staircase together, and on 
 
SARACINESCA. 449 
 
 into a small apartment which in that cold season they 
 had set apart as a sitting-room. When they were alone, 
 Corona laid her hands upon Giovanni's shoulders and 
 gazed long into his angry eyes. Then she threw her 
 arms round his neck and drew him to her. 
 
 "My beloved," she cried, proudly, "you are all I 
 thought and more too." 
 
 " Do not say that," answered Giovanni. " I would not 
 have lifted a finger to save that hound, but for you." 
 
 " Ah, but you did it, dear, all the same," she said, and 
 kissed him. 
 
 On the following evening, without any warning, old 
 Saracinesca arrived, and was warmly greeted. After 
 dinner Giovanni told him the story of Del Ferice's escape. 
 Thereupon the old gentleman flew into a towering rage, 
 swearing and cursing in a most characteristic manner, but 
 finally declaring that to arrest spies was the work of spies, 
 and that Giovanni had behaved like a gentleman, as of 
 course he could not help doing, seeing that he was his 
 own son. 
 
 And so the curtain falls upon the first act. Giovanni 
 and Corona are happily married. Del Ferice is safe across 
 the frontier among his friends in Naples, and Donna 
 Tullia is waiting still for news of him, in the last days of 
 Lent, in the year 1866. To carry on the tale from this 
 point would be to enter upon a new series of events more 
 interesting, perhaps, than those herein detailed, and of 
 like importance in the history of the Saracinesca family, 
 but forming by their very nature a distinct narrative a 
 second act to the drama, if it may be so called. I am 
 content if in the foregoing pages I have so far acquainted 
 the reader with those characters which hereafter will play 
 more important parts, as to enable him to comprehend the 
 story of their subsequent lives, and in some measure to 
 judge of their future by their past, regarding them as 
 acquaintances, if not sympathetic, yet worthy of some 
 attention. 
 
450 SAKACINESCA. 
 
 Especially I ask for indulgence in matters political. I 
 am not writing the history of political events, but the 
 history of a Roman family during times of great uncer 
 tainty and agitation. If any one says that I have set 
 up Del Ferice as a type of the Italian Liberal party, care 
 fully constructing a villain in order to batter him to pieces 
 with the artillery of poetic justice, I answer that I have 
 done nothing of the kind. Del Ferice is indeed a type, 
 but a type of a depraved class which very unjustly repre 
 sented the Liberal party in Borne before 1870, and which, 
 among those who witnessed its proceedings, drew upon 
 the great political body which demanded the unity of 
 Italy an opprobrium that body was very far from deserv 
 ing. The honest and upright Liberals were waiting in 
 1866. What they did, they did from their own country, 
 and they did it boldly. To no man of intelligence need 
 I say that Del Ferice had no more affinity with Massimo 
 D'Azeglio, with the great Cavour, with Cavour's great 
 enemy Giuseppe Mazzini, or with Garibaldi, than the 
 jackal has with the lion. Del Ferice represented the 
 scum which remained after the revolution of 1848 had 
 subsided. He was one of those men who were used and 
 despised by their betters, and in using whom Cavour him 
 self was provoked into writing " Se noi f acessimo per noi 
 quel che faciamo per 1' It alia, saremmo gran bricconi " 
 if we did for ourselves what we do for Italy, we should 
 be great blackguards. And that there were honourable 
 and just men outside of Rome will sufficiently appear in 
 the sequel to this veracious tale. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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 Crawford, F.M. 
 Complete works. 
 
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