Two days later he was standing on the high ground near the wall, that
surrounds the old Cathedral precincts in Ancona; his attention was
riveted neither on the battered red marble lions which support the
columns of the porch, nor yet upon the beauties of the bay which lay
beneath him. His eyes wandered indiscriminately over the sailing
vessels and the laden boats and barges, and over the busy, bustling
life of the arsenal and the quays, but his thoughts were in the great
church he had just quitted; for there he had seen _her_. A solemn
ceremonial had brought Theresa to the Cathedral. He had caught sight of
her as she knelt in prayer; she, too, had noticed him, and, what was
more, had shown herself evidently pleased to see him, and had greeted
him with that look of indescribable meaning which had charmed him that
other evening on the Corso. He could not continue gazing at her without
making himself obtrusive or attracting attention; and, feeling the
incense-laden gloom of the cathedral atmosphere intolerable, he had
come outside into the free, fresh air, where his thoughts could wander
in undisturbed harmony with the beauty of his surroundings. He heard
the sound of the people pouring out of church behind him, and watched
them, in their carriages or on foot, winding down the steep road at his
feet. He would not look round, but waited persistently till he should
see her also, immediately below him. Suddenly he heard footsteps,
double footsteps, close behind him; his heart beat fast, a mist grew
before his eyes; he dared not, for all the world, have turned round at
that moment. The footsteps stopped; some one was standing quite near to
him, fronting the old wall. He knew, as by an instinct, who it was,
and, unless he would show himself discourteous, could now no longer
refrain from turning round. She, in the meanwhile, had stood looking
out over the bay, the ships, the sea, quick, however, to notice when he
turned towards her. Her cheeks flushed, and their colour deepened as
she said, smiling, "Pardon me for taking this opportunity, but I
chanced to see you, and was anxious to offer you my thanks."
She stopped short; he saw that she had something more to say, but the
words would not come, and he waited during what seemed to him an
eternity, before she continued:
"Silence is sometimes the highest form of magnanimity--I thank you."
She bowed, and he took this opportunity of stealing another glance at
her. How charming was her courteous movement! How bewitching her smile
as she turned to leave him, followed by her companion! What grace in
the inimitable walk, and in the exquisite figure, robed in its crimson
velvet gown, across which her long veil fluttered playfully.
She walked in the direction of her carriage, which had been waiting for
her some distance down the winding road, and now came to meet her,
turning as it neared the upper wall. But before it reached her she
heard rapid footsteps, almost quickening to a run, following her. She
looked round and waited, well knowing whose steps they were. She was
amused at his impulsive eagerness, and smiled, partly perhaps with an
idea of putting him at his ease.
"I did not grasp your meaning at once," he said as he saluted her, the
colour deepening on his sunburnt cheeks. "I should like you to know
that it was not consideration for you which kept me silent, but regard
for my own self-respect. I do not wish to be credited with an honour
which is not my due. I beg you to forgive my gross rudeness."
His deep voice trembled; he bowed his head. Mansana was no orator, but
the genuine earnestness of his words and manner, and the emotion
evident in the hand which quivered as he raised it to his cap in
farewell salutation, produced on the princess all the effect of real
eloquence. Thus it came to pass that Princess Leaney, charmed by
Mansana's candour, conceived a strong inclination to reward him--an
inclination strengthened by thoughts of a great discovery she had just
made concerning herself. And so it also happened that Princess Theresa
left her carriage waiting, and walked past it, with Captain Mansana on
one side of her, and the companion, as usual, on the other. Nor was
this all, for the princess--still with Mansana at her side--walked back
once more; and together, for more than a full hour, they strolled to
and fro, with the old wall just above them and the glorious scenery at
their feet. At last, however, she was in her carriage; she had driven
away, and, at the turn where the steep and winding road led into the
level highway, she had once again looked up to bow and smile in answer
to his prolonged farewell salute. Yet, though more than another hour
had passed since then, Mansana was still walking up and down alone. The
bold curves and outlines of the bay, the green slopes of the mountain
sides, the limitless expanse of deep blue sea, the distant sails, the
curling wreaths of smoke in the horizon.... Ah! the untold beauties of
this bay of Ancona.
In their unforeseen meeting on that memorable evening, she discovered
in him traits of character and qualities not dissimilar to her own. She
showed him that her earlier history and his had many points in common,
while she confessed, too, the foolish obstinacy and restless ambition
of her nature. He heard all this from her own lips with a joy he
scarcely could conceal. His being seemed dominated by a hovering image
of ideal beauty, shadowed, it is true, by faults and failings similar
to his own, but enriched by a halo of grace and beauty which had power
to draw even him within its rays. Ah! the bay of Ancona. How beautiful
it was, with its curving shores, its waves tinged to a deep blue-black
by every passing breeze, and, over all, a mellow tint which melted
seawards into a misty, luminous haze!