As the quick southern dusk was falling Rinaldo stole to the foot of
the "Scala III.," concealed himself behind an open stable door, and
waited for Mariuccia. Like all his countrymen, he loved mystery. This
innocent conspiracy set his pulses throbbing pleasantly and cleared his
brain to crystal acuteness. Besides, he had made an ally of Mariuccia,
he had opened his heart to her, and, after her first explosion of
suspicion, had been received as a prospective son. The victory over
the Professor and his mighty endorser, the Princess, would be mere
child's play now, if only Giannella held firm. Although he had the
happiness of knowing that she loved him, the young man did not deceive
himself into believing that she would hold out forever under such
pressure as was being brought to bear on her. The little that he knew
of young girls had taught him otherwise; the better the girl, the more
attention she would pay to the commands of those whom she considered
in authority over her. He could not imagine that his own sisters
would not meekly accept the spouses selected for them. Giannella was
singularly docile and humble-minded. She had always been accustomed to
set her own wishes aside where those of others were in opposition to
them, and in his few talks with her he had seen that the Professor's
awesome learning and the Princess's power, rank, and goodness, caused
the girl to regard those two as more or less anointed arbiters of her
destiny. Rinaldo himself had plenty of proper respect for his betters,
and was a most loyal son of Church and State (one in those palmy
days), but he came of a good old provincial stock, quite as proud in
its way as any Cestaldini or Santafede; and moreover his university
training and his artistic education had brought him in contact with
highly educated and broadminded men, so that his outlook on life was a
good deal more modern than Giannella's. She had not realized that she
was being cruelly imposed upon, that no past benefits could confer on
their donors the right to dispose of her entire future against her own
inclinations. If she could be brought to understand that, Rinaldo felt
that he would be the master of the situation; but there was no time to
lose if Bianchi had really made up his mind to marry her at once.
The young man was revolving these thoughts in his dark corner when
the grotesquely stealthy tread of creaking shoes drew him from his
hiding-place to find Mariuccia peering round the side of the archway
leading to the stairs. With a dramatic gesture she beckoned to him,
laid a finger on her lips, and pushed a bit of pasteboard into his
hands.
"Giannella found it between two of his books," she whispered. "Heaven
send he does not look for it to-morrow."
"How is she this evening?" he inquired in the same tone.
"Only so-so," was the reply; "the Signora Principessa has actually
written her a letter--such an honor. But I almost wish she had not."
"Written to Giannella!" he exclaimed. "What had she got to say?"
"Oh, all that she said the other day and more still. She is very sure
that Giannella ought to accept. And the poor child, who had been so
happy because I told her what we were talking about this morning, has
been crying all day. She says that if it is her duty to marry the
padrone she will try to fulfill it, but that she will want to throw
herself into the Tiber afterwards. It is dreadful. If you can only find
this avvocato and get him to make the padrone change his mind, well and
good. But otherwise I see no way--"
"I do," said Rinaldo sharply. "Giannella should have more sense. There
are wise men, good priests, who will tell her in four words where her
duty leads her. But we will try and reconcile everybody first, since
you and she wish it. Wait a minute, I will take this man's name and
address and then you can put this card back where Giannella found it.
Please hold this match for me."
"Oh, make haste. Take care!" she exclaimed as Rinaldo struck a vesta
and put it into her fingers. "He may come down. If he sees us talking
together there will be more trouble."
Rinaldo had copied the card while she was speaking. Now he returned it
to her, saying, as the match spluttered out, "If he does come, I will
speak to him, I promise you. I will tell the old meddler to go and get
himself fried--and all his best little dead too."
Mariuccia shuddered at the suggestion of this deadliest insult in the
Roman's armory. "For the love of charity," she implored, "do nothing so
rash. He might hand you over to the police--or even cast the evil eye
upon you. I cannot say that anything has ever happened to me--but he
does squint dreadfully sometimes, poverino. Run, I hear someone coming."
"As you will, I shall bring you good news to-morrow, I hope." And he
moved away and was lost in the darkness. Mariuccia drew back into the
shadow of the stable and from thence watched Bianchi emerge from the
archway. He was enveloped in the double-caped cloak which all the men
carried with them after sundown, and held a sheaf of papers in one
hand. He stumbled over a stone and the papers flew in every direction.
Patiently he stooped and began to gather them up. The instinct of
service was too strong for his old domestic. Instantly she was at his
side, assisting him deftly.
"Is that you, Mariuccia?" he asked, peering round at her. "Where did
you come from? I thought I had left you in the house."
"You think and you think, and you never see anything, Sor Professore,"
she grumbled. "I came down the stairs behind you. I must get some
camomile for Giannella. She has a fever--of those!"
He seemed in a kindlier mood than usual, for he shook his head quite
sympathetically and said, "That is bad. I am sorry. But it is the
weather, and all that heating food. I warned you before. The young
blood is not like ours, my good Mariuccia. It makes itself to fire when
the sun is in Leo. Give her less to eat and keep her quiet and she will
be well in a few days." And he moved away, looking very like a brigand
in his big cloak with one end thrown over his shoulder.
Mariuccia watched him disappear, with an expression of almost
omniscient pity. "Sor Carlo mio," she murmured, "you have all the
instructions of the holy Aristotle, and you can pull down Latin as I
used to pull down the chestnuts at Castel Gandolfo--but you are just a
baby in arms when it comes to serious things like food and drink. If I
were not with you, you would be dead in a month. Rinaldo thinks he and
Giannella will get me to live with them. Not a bit of it. They can take
care of each other, the Madonna assisting them, and I will continue to
protect this unfortunate man of learning till one of us is taken to San
Lorenzo."
The evening was still young and Rinaldo thought he would go and
listen to the music in Piazza Colonna for a little, so he made his
way thither, guided by the strains of "Semiramide" which were ringing
out over the otherwise silent city. Piazza Colonna was the favorite
gathering place at this hour for citizens of the better class who were
not able to get away to the country; as he turned into the square he
saw it was already crowded with groups sitting before the cafés as
well as with an ever-moving stream of pedestrians taking leisurely
exercise in the open space round the bandstand. He found a seat by
one of the little marble-topped tables, ordered the popular "orzata,"
a milky-looking beverage of almond syrup and iced barley water, and,
drawing out his notebook, read over the indications he had copied
into it. The name Guglielmo De Sanctis, was a common though quite
respectable one; there must be at least a hundred De Sanctises in
and around Rome; but the address, a second floor in a fashionable
street, denoted that the gentleman in question was doing finely in
his business, a fact which, Rinaldo thought, argued well for his
character. He decided to call upon him the next morning, and then fell
to considering how best to put his rather difficult case.
While the active part of his consciousness was thus employed, the
other, the artistic one, was enjoying the charming scene before him.
The great square, fronting on the Corso and sloping gently up to the
majestic façade of the General Post Office at the farther end, lay
under the dark night sky, fringed by a many-ringed circle of lights
twinkling and intermingling in a soft golden glow. From the center the
sculptured shaft of Marcus Aurelius' triumphal column shot up till its
crown was lost in darkness; the fountains near it poured their cool
sheets of water, gemmed with borrowed stars, into the marble basins,
with a rhythmical splash that made a pleasant under-theme to the full
music of the band; and every pause in the music was filled with talk
and laughter from the audience, delighted with the unexpected coolness
after a stifling day. The women looked charmingly pretty in their
embroidered muslins and pale summer silks, and these were diversified
by the rather theatrical uniforms of the French officers who, conscious
of their exalted mission of protecting the Holy Father, swaggered
happily about the city in those days, loving and beloved and blissfully
unwitting of history to be.
The humming stream of humanity passed and re-passed before Rinaldo's
eyes, momentarily eclipsing the pearl and silver of the fountains and
then parting to let it shine forth again. Overhead the sky was a dome
of shadows; neither moon nor star shot a ray through the darkness
which, with the sudden cooling of the air, presaged some portentous
change of weather. Rinaldo was taking in all the attractions of the
scene, but such spectacles meant to him very much what they do to
the rest of his countrymen--pleasant accessories of existence, but
too familiar to merit any special attention, except from luckless
foreigners who, of course, coming from sad lands where the sun never
shone, where the grapes did not grow, where there were no pretty women
to admire, no saints to invoke and no feastdays to enjoy, naturally
went mad with delight on finding themselves in a country provided with
these necessaries of life, and talked a lot of nonsense about Italy
and the Italians, unconscious that the latter epithet is one which
every Roman indignantly rejects. "Italy" ceases with the frontiers
of Tuscany, which have the honor of bordering on the papal states
themselves, the setting of the city which is the jewel of the world. To
the south, below her feet, as it were, comes the "Regno," the kingdom
of the two Sicilies, in due subordination. All is--or rather was in
Rinaldo's day--as it should be, and as it undoubtedly would be for ever
and ever. All this the benighted foreigner could not be expected to
understand, and he was forgiven his ignorance in consideration of the
welcome addition to public and private revenues furnished by his lavish
expenditure. Rinaldo Goffi in particular had much reason to bless him
as an easily satisfied patron of the arts, for most of his pretty
genre pictures, not very original but pleasantly delicate in color and
correct in drawing, found their way to other lands. He had just put the
last touches to the venerable prelate who was going to supply him and
Giannella with furniture, and was calculating how soon it would be safe
to have him packed for shipment.
"Day after to-morrow, perhaps, if it does not rain," he was thinking,
when a young man detached himself from the crowd and bore down upon
him with the alertness of a dog recognizing its master. It was little
Peppino Sacchetti, who, with his bright eyes, dark complexion and quick
movements, always suggested the appearance of a black-and-tan terrier
in gay tail-wagging mood.
"How goes it, Nalduccio?" he inquired as he dragged a chair close to
that of his friend. "I was looking for you, my son. I have not seen you
for days. Have you been finishing his Eminence--or preparing a cup of
coffee[2] for the old gentleman who gave you such a turn that Friday?"
"Both, Peppino," Rinaldo replied, "but the coffee is only a mora dose,
and the most saintly of cardinals would endorse the prescription."
"You will have to put it by to cool, then," Peppino declared; "we are
all going to be wanted very shortly. The river is out on the Prati,[3]
and if I am not mistaken, Ripetta will be a canal before the end of the
week."
"But it has hardly rained yet," Rinaldo objected, looking up at the
sky; "and I was hoping it would hold off for a day or two longer to let
my picture dry."
"You should have spoken to Santa Ribiana[4] about it," said Peppino.
"It seems to be all arranged now. The Senate sent us word to hold
ourselves and our boats in readiness for a call at any moment. It has
been raining in the hills, and Tiber and Anio are both over their banks
for miles. They may flood the campagna to Ostia if they like--one is so
thankful for this coolness."
"There won't be much coolness for us if the boats are called out,"
Rinaldo remarked with a wry face. "Do you remember the last flood? We
worked for twenty-four hours on end. I began to have some sympathy for
the poor devils of convicts at the galleys."
Peppino laughed at his friend's dismay. "It all amuses me," he said;
"one saw such funny sights. I shall never forget that poor priest
floating down the Corso to his church with his feet in buckets. Do
you remember how well he balanced himself with his umbrella? And the
old woman who called to us from a window to take her daughter-in-law
away and drown her? They had been quarrelling like two furies, and the
daughter-in-law came behind her and tried to pitch her out! How we
laughed!"
Rinaldo smiled at the recollection; then he rose to go. "There is one
thing I must do to-morrow morning," he said, "whatever happens; so I
shall not be available for any boat work before midday. I think you are
mistaken, Peppino. It is not going to rain here to-night, and I do not
believe there will be much of a flood unless it does. In any case, of
course I shall be ready to do my share, but please manage not to have
me sent for before noon."
"What is this tremendously important business?" Peppino asked. "Perhaps
I could help you with it." But Rinaldo slipped off into the crowd. The
only way to keep a secret from Peppino was to run away from him. He
had no reticences about his own affairs and possessed a marvelously
successful curiosity concerning those of others.
The next morning fulfilled his prophecy and broke in sheets of rain.
Rinaldo, however, set out manfully and arrived at Signor De Sanctis's
door precisely at ten o'clock. He sent in his card--a thing of beauty
penned with many flourishes by his own hand--requesting the favor of
an interview on a matter of urgent importance. The lawyer received
him coolly enough, for Rinaldo in his second best clothes and soaked
boots did not look like a money-bringing client. The coolness froze to
hostility when the young man, in all good faith, disclosed the object
of his visit. Would Signor De Sanctis tell him anything of the business
which had brought him to call on Professor Bianchi, and in what way was
the Signorina Brockmann connected with it?
De Sanctis leaned back in his chair and eyed Rinaldo with scorn. Did
Signor--he glanced contemptuously at the card on the table--ah, Goffi,
Signor Goffi, imagine that the affairs of clients were to be revealed
to unknown inquirers? Who did the visitor take him for that he should
venture to insult him with such a request?
Rinaldo saw that he had begun at the wrong end of the skein. He
hastened to assure the incensed gentleman that nothing was further from
his thoughts than such transgression; that the delicacy and honor of
the distinguished avvocato De Sanctis were so well known that only to
him, of all the legal lights in Rome, would it be possible to confide
what he was about to relate; and he added that he was equally sure that
no one else could explain the extraordinary and mysterious change which
had come over Bianchi and which was afflicting his family and friends
so deeply.
De Sanctis began to look interested; his suspicion that Rinaldo was
illicitly trying to ascertain the figure of the young lady's dowry was
allayed by the importance given to the Professor.
"But what is this afflicting change?" he asked. "Signor Bianchi has
the reputation of being a man of fixed habits and entire absorption in
his studies. Do you mean that his mind is affected? If so, you must
consult a physician. I am not an alienist."
Then Rinaldo set himself to relate the facts, and very absurd they
sounded. Here was an elderly devotee of archæological science who had,
with many protests, permitted an orphan girl to live under his roof.
More he had never done; some little earnings from her embroidery, and
the charity of Signor Bianchi's kind-hearted cook had supplied all the
rest. Beyond giving her an order as he would to any servant, Signor
Bianchi had hardly ever spoken to Giannella, who was the best and most
beautiful girl in Rome.
Too much excited to notice De Sanctis's amused smile at this
outburst of admiration, Rinaldo went on: "Behold, when she is nearly
twenty-one, a certain distinguished lawyer calls upon the Professor
and discourses with him at length. Before Ave Maria the next day
Signor Bianchi has found out that Giannella is good, that Giannella
is pretty, that Giannella cooks polpetti divinely, that Mariuccia
really ought to buy her a new dress. There is another visit or two from
the distinguished lawyer--and the Professor, who loves money so much
that it is like drawing blood to get a few pauls from him for his own
food, offers Mariuccia five baiocchi a day for Giannella's board. And
when Mariuccia, who is already "stranissima," worried to death with
all these new caprices, tells him to go to the devil with his five
baiocchi, why then, then, my dear sir, he says he is going to _marry_,
marry Giannella, who has lived on his own servant's charity and has not
a scudo in the world! Explain to me, Signor Avvocato, the conduct of
this maniac! As the only friend of those two poor distracted women, I
have a right to ask you."
De Sanctis stared at Rinaldo incredulously for several seconds after
he had ceased speaking. Then, to the young man's amazement, he burst
into peals of laughter. Tears of merriment were running down his cheeks
before he regained sufficient self-control to speak. Then he looked
at Rinaldo (who was red with anger) and managed to say, "And is that
really all you know? You are not playing a joke on me?"
"A joke?" cried the artist hotly; "if there is one you are alone in the
enjoyment of it. I see no subject for laughter in these distressing
facts. Yes, that is all I know, except--"
"Except?" asked De Sanctis, with a fine return to his professional
manner.
"Except this," the other continued, "that when Giannella refused his
proposal with horror--Domine Dio, had she not reason?--Bianchi went
to the Signora Principessa Santafede and persuaded her to take his
side. And she sent for Giannella and Mariuccia and preached them each
such a sermon that neither found a word to say, and Giannella has
cried herself into a fever and says she was born to misfortune, and
that if it is her destiny to marry Bianchi she will do her duty like a
Christian and die of despair afterwards. Oh, Signor Avvocato, excuse
me, but I cannot even think of it. If you have a heart, save us from
all this misery."
Rinaldo's head went down on the table and he sobbed like a Latin and a
child--which mean the same thing, very often.
De Sanctis reached over and patted his shoulder consolingly. He was
quite convinced now of the young man's good faith, and also of the
Professor's perfidy. "Do not afflict yourself, Signor Goffi," he said;
"the affair is quite simple. Bianchi is not mad. On the contrary, he
is very clever indeed. And the young lady shall marry"--he smiled
quizzingly as Rinaldo suddenly raised his head--"shall marry a fine
honest young man who is desperately in love with her. I am right, am I
not? Are you sure, quite sure, that you want a wife who has not a scudo
in the world, who will come to her wedding in the clothes that a poor
old servant has given her? It is a serious thing, a wife--there is the
future to think of--and, excuse my indiscreetness--you are perhaps not
a rich man."
"No," cried Rinaldo, "I am not, thank God. I have had no money to
hoard, to worship, to cause my heart to dry up while I am still alive.
But I have all the money I need to give that beautiful angel a home
and happiness, and also to reward the best Christian I ever knew for
her goodness to her. I have my art, my health, a little vigna outside
the gates, and I will work for those two women as long as I live, I
swear it to you, Signor De Sanctis! And may God abandon me and Our Lady
refuse to intercede for me if I break my word!"
"Bravo," said De Sanctis; "and now I fear I must ask you to excuse me,
for I have much to do to-day. If you will condescend to return--let me
see--the day after to-morrow, I may perhaps have some consoling news
for you."
"You are very good," replied Rinaldo; "you will see Bianchi, you will
bring him to reason? If he withdraws his proposal the Princess can
have no more to say, and it is the scruple about opposing her which is
causing the chief trouble. But I fear the Professor will not be easy to
argue with."
"I shall have no difficulty with him," De Sanctis declared; "leave him
to me. And meanwhile if you have the opportunity, try, on your part, to
make the young lady understand that in this matter her destiny need not
involve either martyrdom or suicide. These girls! Oh, you are taking
the whole thing too seriously, Signor Goffi. They really enjoy a bit of
tragedy if only they can play the saint to an admiring audience while
they are acting it."
"Giannella has no silly fancies of that kind," Rinaldo replied hotly.
"Mariuccia tells me she never considered the thing for a moment until
that meddlesome old Princess undertook to poke her nose into matters
she knew nothing about. Could you not see her first, Signor Avvocato,
and make her change her mind? It would be easier to convince her than
Bianchi."
De Sanctis had bounded in his chair at Rinaldo's audacious words. Now
he turned on him angrily, saying, "I must insist that you speak of
the most excellent Princess with proper respect. You will please to
remember that she is a very noble and pious lady, whom I often have
the honor to serve. Only Christian benevolence has led her to interest
herself in the Signorina Brockmann's establishment in life. From
her point of view--and being, as I perceive she was, in ignorance
of certain facts--a marriage with Bianchi must have appeared most
advantageous for the girl. I take it that nothing was told her of your
intentions in regard to the latter? No, of course not! That would have
been too much to expect of 'two poor distracted women.' Well then, you
see that they themselves left the Princess uninformed of an important
aspect of the affair. If she condescends to remember the incident the
next time she sends for me, all shall be explained to her; but she will
probably have forgotten all about it before she returns from Santafede.
Persons in her rank of life have many weighty matters to occupy their
minds." De Sanctis swelled with importance as he spoke, and Rinaldo
accepted the snubbing and henceforth believed that the lawyer was the
chief repository of the great lady's confidence. "And so have I!" De
Sanctis exclaimed, glancing at his watch. "Santa Pazienza! An hour and
a half have I been giving to your love affairs, my young friend. Now
I must turn to serious things. Accidenti! The rain has it in mind to
drown us all."
FOOTNOTES:
[2] Synonym for poison.
[3] Low-lying meadows near the Vatican.
[4] Patron saint of rain.