They did not alter their mode of life. Duco, however, after a
scene with his mother, no longer slept at Belloni's but in a
little room adjoining his studio and at first filled with trunks
and lumber. Cornélie was sorry about the scene: she had always had
a liking for Mrs. van der Staal and the girls. But a certain pride
arose in her; and Cornélie despised Mrs. van der Staal because she
was unable to understand either her or Duco. Still, she would have
been pleased to prevent this coolness. At her advice Duco went to see
his mother again, but she remained cool and sent him away. Thereupon
Cornélie and Duco went to Naples. They did not do this by way of
an elopement, they did it quite simply: Cornélie told Urania and
the prince that she was going to Naples for a little while and that
Van der Staal would probably follow her. She did not know Naples and
would appreciate it greatly if Van der Staal showed her over the town
and the surrounding country. Cornélie kept on her rooms in Rome. And
they spent a fortnight of sheer, careless and immense happiness. Their
love grew spacious and blossoming in the golden sunlight of Naples,
on the blue gulfs of Amalfi, Sorrento, Capri and Castellamare, simply,
irresistibly and restfully. They glided gradually along the purple
thread of their lives, they walked hand in hand down their lines now
fused into one path, heedless of the laws and ideas of men; and their
attitude was so lofty, their action so serene and so certain of their
happiness, that their relations did not degenerate into insolence,
although within themselves they despised the world. But this happiness
softened all that pride in their soaring souls, as if their happiness
were strewing blossoms all around it. They lived in a dream, first
among the marbles in the museum, then on the flower-strewn cliffs
of Amalfi, on the beach of Capri or on the terrace of the hotel at
Sorrento, with the sea roaring at their feet and, in a pearly haze,
yonder, vaguely white, as though drawn in white chalk, Castellamare
and Naples and the ghost of Vesuvius, with its hazy plume of smoke.
They held aloof from everybody, from all the people and excursionists;
they had their meals at a small table; and it was generally thought
that they were newly married. If others looked up their names in the
visitors' book, they read two names and made whispered comments. But
the lovers did not hear, did not see; they lived their dream, looking
into each other's eyes or at the opal sky, the pearly sea and the hazy,
white mountain-vistas, studded with towns like little specks of chalk.
When their money was almost exhausted, they smiled and went back to
Rome and resumed their former lives: she in her rooms and he, now,
in his studio; and they took their meals together. But they pursued
their dream among the ruins in the Via Appia, around and near Frascati,
beyond the Ponte Molle, on the slopes of the Monte Mario and in the
gardens of the villas, among the statues and paintings, mingling their
happiness with the Roman atmosphere: he interweaving his new-found
love with his love for Rome; she growing to love Rome because of
him. And because of that charm they were surrounded by a sort of aura,
through which they did not see ordinary life or meet ordinary people.
At last, one afternoon, Urania found them both at home, in Cornélie's
room, the fire lighted, she smiling and gazing into the fire, he
sitting at her feet and she with her arm round his neck. And they
were evidently thinking of so little besides their own love that
neither of them heard her knock and both suddenly saw her standing
before them, like an unexpected reality. Their dream was over for that
day. Urania laughed, Cornélie laughed and Duco pushed an easy-chair
closer. And Urania, blithe, beautiful and brilliant, told them that
she was engaged. Where on earth had they been hiding, she asked,
inquisitively. She was engaged. She had been to San Stefano, she had
seen the old prince. And everything was lovely and good and dear:
the old castle a dear old house, the old man a dear old man. She saw
everything through the glitter of her future princess' title. Princess
and duchess! The wedding-day was fixed: immediately after Easter, in
a little more than three months therefore. It was to be celebrated at
San Carlo, with all the splendour of a great wedding. Her father was
coming over for it with her youngest brother. She was obviously not
looking forward to their arrival. And she never finished talking:
she gave a thousand details about her bridal outfit, with which
the marchesa was helping her. They were going to live at Nice, in
a large flat. She raved about Nice: that was a first-rate idea of
Gilio's. And incidentally she remembered and told them that she had
become a Catholic. That was a great nuisance! But the monsignori saw
to everything and she allowed herself to be guided by them. And the
Pope was to receive her in private audience, together with Gilio. The
difficulty was what to wear at the audience: black, of course, but
... velvet, satin? What did Cornélie advise her? She had such excellent
taste. And a black-lace veil on her head, with brilliants. She was
going to Nice next day, with the marchesa and Gilio, to see their flat.
When she was gone, after begging Cornélie to come and admire her
trousseau, Cornélie said, with a smile:
"She is happy. After all, happiness is something different for
everybody. A trousseau and a title would not make me happy."
"These are the small people," he said, "who cross our lives now and
again. I prefer to get out of their way."
And they did not say so, but they both thought--with their fingers
interlaced, her eyes gazing into his--that they also were happy, but
with a loftier, better and nobler happiness; and pride arose within
them; and they beheld as in a vision the line of their life winding up
a steep hill. But happiness snowed blossoms down upon it; and amid the
snowing blossoms, holding high their proud heads, with smiles and eyes
of love, they walked on in their dream remote from mankind and reality.