It was a couple of months after Easter, in the spring days of May.
The-flood of tourists had ebbed away immediately after the great church
festivities; and Rome was already very hot and growing very quiet. One
morning, when Cornélie was crossing the Piazza di Spagna, where the
sunshine streamed along the cream-coloured front of the Trinita de'
Monti and down the monumental staircase, where only a few beggars and
the very last flower-boy sat dreaming with blinking eye-lids in a shady
corner, she saw the prince coming towards her. He bowed to her with a
smile of gladness and hastened up to speak to her:
"How glad I am to meet you! I am in Rome for a day or two, on my way to
San Stefano, to see my father on business. Business is always a bore;
and this is more so than usual. Urania is at Nice. But it is too hot
there and we are going away. We have just returned from a trip on the
Mediterranean. Four weeks on board a friend's yacht. It was delightful!
Why did you never come to see us at Nice, as Urania asked you to?"
"I really wasn't able to come."
"I went to call on you yesterday in the Via dei Serpenti. They told me
you had moved."
He looked at her with a touch of mocking laughter in his small,
glittering eyes. She did not speak.
"After that I did not like to commit a further indiscretion," he said,
meaningly. "Where are you going?"
"To the post-office."
"May I come with you? Isn't it too hot for walking?"
"Oh, no, I love the heat! Come by all means, if you like. How is
Urania?"
"Very well, capital. She's capital. She's splendid, simply splendid.
I should never have thought it. I should never have dared to think
it. She plays her part to perfection. So far as she is concerned,
I don't regret my marriage. But, for the rest, _Gesu mio_, what a
disappointment, what a disillusion!"
"Why?"
"You knew, did you not--I even now don't know how--you knew for how
many millions I sold myself? Not five millions but ten millions. Ah,
_signora mia_, what a take-in You saw my father-in-law at the time
of our wedding. What a Yankee, what a stocking-merchant and what a
tradesman! We're no match for him: I, papa, or the marchesa. First
promises, contracts: oh, rather! But then haggling here, haggling
here. We're no good at that: neither papa nor I. Aunt alone was able
to haggle. But she was no match for the stocking-merchant. She had not
learnt that, in all the years for which she kept a boarding-house. Ten
millions? Five millions? Not three millions! Or yes, perhaps we did
get something like that, _pus_ a heap of promises, for our children's
children, when everybody's dead. Ah, signora, signora, I was better
off before I was married! True, I had debts then and not now. But
Urania is so economical, so practical! I should never have thought
it of her. It has been a disappointment to everybody: papa, my aunt,
the _monsignori_. You should have seen them together. They could have
scratched one another's eyes out. Papa almost had a stroke, my aunt
nearly came to blows with the _monsignori_.... Ah, signora, signora, I
don't like it! I am a victim. Winter after winter, they angled with me.
But I didn't want to be the bait, I struggled, I wouldn't let the fish
bite. And then this came of it. Not three millions. Lire, not dollars.
I was so stupid, I thought at first it would be dollars. And Urania's
economy! She doles out my pocket-money. She controls everything, does
everything. She knows exactly how much I lose at the club. Yes, you
may laugh, but it's sad. Don't you see that I sometimes feel as if
I could cry? And she has such queer notions. For instance, we have
a flat at Nice and we keep on my rooms in the Palazzo Ruspoli, as a
_pied-à-terre_ in Rome. That's enough: we don't come often to Rome,
because we are 'black' and Urania thinks it dull. In the summer, we
were to go here or there, to some watering-place. That was all right,
that was settled. But now Urania suddenly conceives the notion, of
selecting San. Stefano as a summer residence. San Stefano! I ask you!
I shall never be able to stand it. True, it's high up, it's cool: it's
a pleasant climate, good, fresh mountain air. But I need more in my
life than mountain air. I can't live on mountain air. Oh, you wouldn't
know Urania! She can be so awfully obstinate. It's settled now, beyond
recall: in. the summer, San Stefano. And the worst of it is that she
has won papa's heart by it. I have to suffer. They're two to one
against me. And the worst of it is that Urania says we shall have to
be very economical, in order to do San Stefano up a bit. It's a famous
historical place, but fallen into grisly disrepair. It's not our fault:
we never had any luck. There was once a Forte-Braccio pope; after that
our star declined and we never had another stroke of luck again. San
Stefano is the type of ruined greatness. You ought to see the place. To
economize, to renovate San Stefano That's Urania's ideal. She has taken
it into her head to do that honour to our ancestral abode. However,
she has won papa's heart by it and he has recovered from his stroke.
But can you understand now that _il povero_ _Gilio_ is poorer than he
was before he acquired shares in a Chicago stocking-factory?"
There was no checking his flow of words. He felt profoundly unhappy,
small, beaten, tamed, conquered, destroyed and he had a need to ease
his heart. They had passed the post-office and now retraced their
steps. He looked for sympathy from Cornélie and found it in the smiling
attention with which she listened to his grievances. She replied that,
after all, it showed that Urania had a real feeling for San Stefano.
"Oh, yes!" he admitted, humbly. "She is very good. I should never
have thought it. She is every inch a princess and duchess. It's
splendid. But the ten millions: gone, an illusion!... But tell me: how
well you're looking! Each time I see you, you've grown lovelier and
lovelier. Do you know that you're a very lovely woman? You must be very
happy, I'm certain! You're an exceptional woman, I always said so. I
don't understand you.... May I speak frankly? Are we good friends, you
and I? I don't understand. I think what you have done such a terrible
thing. I have never heard of anything like it in our world."
"I don't live in your world, prince."
"Very well, but all the same your world must have much the same ideas
about it. And the calmness, the pride, the happiness with which you
do, just quietly, as you please! I think it perfectly awful. I stand
aghast at it.... And yet ... it's a pity. People in my world are very
easy-going. But that sort of thing is not allowed!"
"Prince, once more, I have no world. My world is my own sphere."
"I don't understand that. Tell me, how am I to tell Urania? For I
should think it delightful if you would come and stay at San Stefano.
Oh, do come, do: come to keep us company! I entreat you. Be charitable,
do a good work.... But first tell me, how shall I tell Urania?"
She laughed:
"What?"
"What they told me in the Via dei Serpenti, that your address was now
Signor Van der Staal's studio, Via del Babuino."
Laughing, she looked at him almost pityingly:
"It is too difficult for you to tell her," she replied, a little
condescendingly. "I will myself write to Urania and explain my conduct."
He was evidently relieved:
"That's delightful, capital! And ... will you come to San Stefano?"
"No, I can't really."
"Why not?"
"I can no longer move in the circle in which you live, after my change
of address," she said, half laughing, half seriously.
He shrugged his shoulders:
"Listen," he said. "You know our Roman society. So long as certain
conventions are observed. everything's permitted."
"Exactly; but it's just those conventions which I don't observe."
"And that's where you are wrong. Believe me, I am saying it as your
friend."
"I live according to my own laws and I don't want to move in your
world."
He folded his hands in entreaty:
"Yes, yes, I know. You are a 'new woman.' You have your own laws. But
I beseech you, take pity on me. Be an angel of mercy and come to San
Stefano."
She seemed to hear a note of seduction in his voice and therefore said:
"Prince, even if it agreed with the conventions of your world ... even
then I shouldn't wish to. For I will not leave Van der Staal."
"You come first and let him come a little later. Urania will be glad
to have his advice on some artistic questions, concerning the 'doing
up' of San Stefano. We have a lot of pictures there. And old things
generally. Do let's arrange that. I am going to San Stefano to-morrow.
Urania will follow me in a week. I will suggest to her to ask you down
soon."
"Really, prince ... it can't happen just yet."
"Why not?"
She looked at him for some time before answering:
"Shall I be candid with you?"
"But of course!"
They had already passed the post-office twice. The street was quite
silent and deserted. He looked at her enquiringly.
"Well, then," she said, "we are in great financial difficulties. We
have no money at present. I have lost my little capital; and the small
sum which I earned by writing an article is spent. Duco is working
hard, but he is engaged on a big work and making nothing in the
meantime. He expects to receive a bit of money in a month or so. But
at the moment we have nothing, nothing at all. That is why I went to
a shop by the Tiber this morning to ask how much a dealer would give
for a couple of old pictures which Duco wants to sell. He doesn't like
parting with them, but there's no help for it. So you see that I can't
come. I should not care to leave him; besides, I should not have the
money for the journey or a decent wardrobe."
He looked at her. The first thing that he had noticed was her new and
blooming loveliness; now he noticed that her skirt was a little worn
and her blouse none too fresh, though she wore a couple of roses in the
waist-band.
"Gesu mio!" he exclaimed. "And you tell me that so calmly, so quietly!"
She smiled and shrugged her shoulders:
"What would you have me do? Moan and groan about it?"
"But you are a woman ... a woman to revere and respect!" he cried. "How
does Van der Staal take it?"
"He is a bit depressed, of course. He has never known money trouble.
And it hinders him from employing his full talent. But I hope to help
him bear up during this difficult time. So you see, prince, that I
can't come to San Stefano."
"But why didn't you write to us? Why not ask us for money?"
"It is very nice of you to say that, but the idea never even occurred
to us."
"Too proud?"
"Yes, too proud."
"But what a position to be in! What can I do for you? May I give you
two hundred lire? I have two hundred lire on me. And I will tell Urania
that I gave it to you."
"No, thank you, prince. I am very grateful to you, but I can't accept
it."
"Not from _me_?"
"No."
"Not from Urania?"
"Not from her either."
"Why not?"
"I want to earn my money and I can't accept alms."
"A fine principle. But for the moment...."
"I remain true to it."
"Will you allow me to tell you something?"
"What?"
"I admire you. More than that: I love you." She made a gesture with her
hand and wrinkled her brows.
"Why mayn't I tell you so? An Italian does not keep his love concealed.
I love you. You are more beautiful and nobler and superior to anything
that I could ever imagine any woman to be.... Don't be angry with me:
I am not asking anything of you. I am a bad lot, but at this moment I
really feel the sort of thing that you see in our old family-portraits,
an atom of chivalry which has survived by accident. I ask for nothing
from you. I merely tell you--and I say it in Urania's name as well as
my own--that you can always rely on us. Urania will be angry that you
haven't written to us."
They now entered the post-office and she bought a few stamps:
"There go my last soldi," she said, laughing and showing her empty
purse. "We wanted the stamps to write to the secretary of an exhibition
in London. Are you seeing me home?"
She saw suddenly that he had tears in his eyes.
"Do accept two hundred lire from me!" he entreated.
She smilingly shook her head.
"Are you dining at home?" he asked.
She gave him a quizzing look:
"Yes," she said.
He was unwilling to ask any further questions, was afraid lest he
should wound her:
"Be kind," he said, "and dine with me this evening. I'm bored. I
have no friends in Rome at the moment. Everybody is away. Not at the
Grand-Hôtel, but in a snug little restaurant, where they know me. I'll
come and fetch you at seven o'clock. Do be nice and come! For my sake!"
He could not restrain his tears.
"I shall be delighted," she said, softly, with her smile.
They were standing in the porch of the house in the Via del Babuino
where the studio was. He raised her hand to his lips and pressed a
fervent kiss upon it. Then he took off his hat and hurried away. She
went slowly up the stairs, mastering her emotion before she entered the
studio.