Loitering amidst the artistic haunts of _Firenze la bella_, we seem to
have forgotten some of our Roman acquaintances, who, when leaving the
Eternal City, took the southern instead of the northern direction.
We know already that Naples, or its neighbourhood, was the Eltons'
destination; it was also that of the three gentlemen who played so
prominent a part at their ball. How strange it is that such a _trio_
should have fixed on going to the same place, each moved by motives so
unlike those of the others!
Mr. Earnscliffe went there because he wanted change of scene, and
thought Naples the most interesting;--Mr. Lyne, because it was a part
of his plan to visit the south of Italy before returning to France;
had Flora Adair accepted him, he would have done so with her, as his
bride; now he would do so alone, for he was far too methodical to allow
a disappointment to interfere with any of his arrangements;--Mr.
Caulfield's motive was to meet the Eltons, and he wished to get there
before them, in order that the "dragoness" might not be able to say he
had followed them.
Mr. Earnscliffe chose Capri. He liked boating excessively, and would
sometimes spend hours alone in his little craft, accompanied by a poor
fisherman called Paolo, whom he had engaged as his boatman, and who
interested him greatly by his free and amusing tattle. Mr. Earnscliffe
was fond of mixing in this way with the people in foreign countries.
Thereby he learned their habits and thoughts; and although among his
equals he was considered as haughty and proud, such thoughts were never
entertained of him by his inferiors. With them his generosity and
readiness to help any one in real distress, combined with an evident
determination not to let himself be imposed upon, caused him to be
truly liked and respected. He thought about difference of position and
inequality of fortune just in the same way as he did of the creation
around him--namely, that all was full of inexplicable mystery. Reason
told him that when he and Paolo came into the world there was no real
distinction between them; it appeared unaccountable why the one was
born in a wretched hovel and was only to have rags to cover him,
whilst the other first saw light in a luxurious chamber, and servants
waiting ready to serve him. He would often sit looking at Paolo,
as he lolled with careless grace in some part of the boat, singing
or reciting something with all the characteristic animation of his
country, and wondered what each would have been had their conditions
been reversed,--had Paolo been the highly-born rich man, and he the
poor lowly fisherman. This train of thought would often lead him to
ask, "Why do these inexplicable contrasts exist?" Then, with a gesture
of impatience, he would begin sometimes to row vigorously, much to
the wonder of the indolent Italian, who saw no cause for this sudden
display of energy.
Mr. Earnscliffe's equals in the social scale were not unjust when
they called him haughty and overbearing; so he was, to them: an open
scoffer, indeed, at many of their opinions, and even at their faith;
but to the poor he was all gentleness, he respected their religion,
and even their superstitions he refrained from ridiculing. Intolerance
towards persons of his own rank, or above it, was a marked feature
in his character; if one of these had not cultivated his mind--if
he were not all that _he_ thought a man ought to be, he looked upon
him with contempt, and considered himself merely obliged to treat
him with cold politeness. To the poor, on the contrary, he was most
indulgent, because he felt that fortune had denied to them all the
advantages which she had given to the rich. The poor are forced to toil
incessantly to gain their daily bread, they have scarcely any means
of acquiring knowledge, of seeing and knowing what is good and true,
and therefore it was that he, who in his own sphere would turn into
ridicule the most solemn observances of Christianity, never even smiled
at any practices, or cast a shadow of ridicule towards the feelings, of
these poor Capri fisherpeople.
One day an acquaintance of his came to Capri, and he proposed that they
should go out in his boat. As they got to the shore they found Paolo
there playing with a beautiful little girl of about nine years old,
who, as soon as she saw them coming, ran towards Mr. Earnscliffe. He
caught her up in his arms, seated her on his shoulder, and carried her
back to Paolo, who, with a gratified look, said, "_Come è buono sua
eccellenza!_" and then turned to get the boat ready.
"You will come with us, Paolo," said Mr. Earnscliffe.
"_Bene, signore_; but would their excellencies wait a moment while I
take _la ragazzina_ to her mother; she is so precious!"
"Certainly," answered Mr. Earnscliffe, "I would not for worlds expose
my little Anina to any danger." He bent down and kissed her, saying,
"_Addio, carina!_"
As Paolo and Anina turned away, Mr. Earnscliffe's companion,
Mr. Elliot, said, "Well, you do appear in a new character here,
Earnscliffe!"
"I was not aware that you did me the honour of studying my character
so well as to know what is old or new in it," was the reply, with a
haughty look; "but is not Anina a beautiful little creature?"
"Yes, very much so indeed; but what did the man mean by saying, 'She is
so precious,' and at the same time looking up to heaven in that strange
manner."
"Ask Paolo to tell you; the story will sound far better from his lips
than from mine."
Paolo returned, and they all got into the boat. Soon after they were
fairly afloat, Mr. Earnscliffe said, "Paolo, my friend wants to know
why you said that Anina was so precious--will you tell him?"
"With pleasure, _illustrissimo_," and his eyes looked the pleasure
which his words expressed, for he was always happy and proud to talk of
Anina; "but," he added, "perhaps it will weary his excellency, as he
knows it all so well."
"Not at all--I never tire of hearing about her."
The father's face lit up with pleasure as he said, "The _signor_
must know, then, that last year there was great distress in our poor
island--so much so that the poorer fishermen, like myself, were hardly
able to live. In the month of April our great trial fell upon us:
our eldest child, a boy about a year older than Anina, sickened and
died. Our little Anina herself began to fade too; she grew weaker and
weaker, and lay in the sun all day hardly moving or speaking. One day
the doctor happened to pass, and my wife asked him for charity's sake
to examine _la poverina_. He did so, and said, 'She is sinking from
weakness, and I fear in this time of distress there is but little hope
for her.'
"That evening, as we sat outside looking at the child's little pale
face and closed eyes, lying as she was in her mother's arms, we
shuddered to think how soon those eyes might be closed, like our other
darling's, never, alas! to open again. All at once Maria, my wife,
exclaimed, 'Take me to Sorrento to-morrow, Paolo, that we may go to the
shrine there and pray to the Madonna to save our child.'
"'_Via!_ Maria, _via!_ Have I not already prayed to the Madonna and the
saints, as only a despairing father could pray, and all in vain,' was
my answer.
"'Hush! _marito mio_,' she cried, 'if thou speakest so we are
lost--only take me to Sorrento, and thou shalt see what the Madonna
will do for us. She _must_ hear me. Take me, Paolo! Oh take me!'
"I could not refuse poor Maria, although I thought it all
fruitless--_Santissima Madre di Dio mi perdoni_."
Paolo took off his cap and crossed himself; but he did not see Mr.
Elliot's smile, and he continued--
"Accordingly we started for Sorrento the next morning. A neighbour had
promised to look after the child, so we were not uneasy at leaving her
for the time.
"As we went up to the church my wife was full of hope, but I was gloomy
and dejected. We heard Mass, and then I said to Maria, 'I am going into
the town, but I will come back for thee.'
"I had determined to try to get a small loan from some of those to whom
I was in the habit of selling fish, but they all talked of the bad
times, and bestowed only their pity upon me.
"I went back for my wife, and we returned to the boat; then I
exclaimed, 'Fine things thy Madonna has done for us! I have been to
every one whom I know in the town, and I have not got a carlino.'
"Maria answered me gently that she was sure the Madonna would not fail
us if I would only have trust and patience. I heard it all in silence.
When we reached the shore I did not follow her out of the boat. She
turned and asked, 'Paolo, art thou not coming? The little one will miss
her father--_il babbo_.'
"'Why should I go?' I retorted. 'To see the child die? I'd rather trust
to the waves than to thy Madonna. I'll put out to sea.'
"'If she is to die, then must I see her die all alone? Art thou going
to desert me, Paolo?'
"Poor Maria! These words made me feel how cruel I had been to her; and
jumping out of the boat, I joined her, saying, 'Come then, we will
watch her together.'
"When we got near to the house, we saw our good neighbour leaning over
_la bambina_, and clasping her hands. I grasped my wife's arm, and
exclaimed, '_è morta!_'
"With a cry, Maria darted forward, calling, '_Maddalena, Maddalena,
dica di grazia non è morta mia bambina!_'
"'_Morta!_ No. See what the Madonna has given her!' And Maddalena held
up two gold pieces.
"Maria gave me one look of joy and triumph; then she knelt down by her
child and covered her with kisses. As for me, no words could express
my remorse. I fell upon my knees and asked forgiveness of _Iddio e Sua
Santissima Madre_.
"After a little time, and when we had all become a little calm again,
Anina told us that a beautiful lady with golden hair came to her and
asked her what was the matter with her? She answered that she had long
been ill, and was dying like her little brother, because her parents
were too poor to get what was necessary for her; and they had gone to
Sorrento to pray to the Madonna that she might get well again. The lady
kissed her, and, putting the two gold pieces into her hand, said, 'Tell
_il babbo e la madre_ that the Madonna sent these to them.' And then
she went away. 'I felt so happy,' added the little one, 'because I knew
then that it was the Madonna herself who had been with me!'
"You will not be surprised to hear, _eccellenza_, that we all wept for
joy over the precious child whom the Madonna had visited and saved to
us!"
Mr. Elliot laughed, and said, "That is an exceedingly well made up
story, my good man; but you don't expect me to believe----"
"Stop," interrupted Mr. Earnscliffe, in a tone of indignation; "it is
the action of a coward to laugh at a man who neither in words nor
action has the power to answer you!"
"Earnscliffe, you insult me!"
"If I do, I am ready to answer for it. All that, however, is not for
the present time; now, the least you can do is to allow me to explain
away, as well as I can, your ill-timed merriment. Shall I do so?"
Mr. Elliot quailed before his haughty gaze, and muttered, "As you like;
the fellow is not worth so many words between gentlemen."
"The 'fellow,' as you call him, is, perhaps, the superior of the two
gentlemen;" his lips did not say "of one of them, certainly," but
his eyes looked it; and without giving Mr. Elliot time to make any
rejoinder, he turned to Paolo, and said--
"This gentleman wished to test the truth of what you have related by
appearing to ridicule it. But I have explained to him how undoubtedly
true it is, and he begs that you will finish the story."
The conversation between the two gentlemen had been carried on in
English; but Paolo had watched their faces, and had rightly interpreted
their different expressions. So he answered, "_Come piace a sua
eccellenza_," looking pointedly at Mr. Earnscliffe, and laying a strong
emphasis on the singular pronoun. He then went on to relate Anina's
story.
"The child quickly recovered with the good things we were able to
obtain for her. The first time that she followed me down to the
boat, as she used to do when her poor brother and I were going out
to fish, I felt beside myself with happiness; and you may be sure,
_illustrissimo_, that a morning or evening never passes without my
returning thanks to the _Santissima Madonna_, who has been so good to
us, and that after the wicked things which I had said of her.
"A year went by, and the eve of the day in which our _bambina_ had that
blessed vision, Maria said to me, 'Paolo, thou must take us to Sorrento
to-morrow.'
"'With all my heart,' I answered; for had I not learned to have as much
trust in our blessed Patroness as my wife? The winter had been hard
again, and we were very poor; but the child was well, and how could we
complain? God knows what is best for us! So the next morning we set out
for Sorrento with our little favoured one; and who shall be able to say
how happy we were, as we thought of our trouble there on the same day a
year before!
"After our return, on the evening of that same day, about the Ave
Maria, my wife and I were sitting outside our door, and the child had
wandered away among the rocks, when suddenly we heard her voice, and,
looking up, we saw her in the arms of _sua eccellenza_. He gave her to
my wife, and said that as he walked along, he heard a sound of crying,
and saw at a little distance a child seated on a rock, and holding one
foot in her hand. He asked her what ailed her, and she answered by
taking away her hand from her foot; and he saw that it was cut, and
bleeding fast. She had slipped, and fallen on a sharp piece of rock!
God reward _sua eccellenza_! He bound up her wounded foot, and carried
her, while she pointed out the way, to my cottage. _Sua eccellenza_
then turned to me, and asked if I knew any one from whom he could hire
a boat, and said that he also wanted a boatman to manage and take care
of it for him. I replied that he could not do a greater act of charity
than to take me, and that he could have my boat, too, only it was
rather old and weather-beaten for _un gran signore_ like him. He said
that the boat being old did not signify, as he would probably buy one
if he remained at Capri; and that he would take me on trial. And he
has been graciously pleased to keep me in his service ever since. _O
santissima Madre di Dio!_ how much do we owe thee! When our precious
_bambina_ was dying from want, you came from heaven and gave her the
gold which saved her life, and on the anniversary of that happy day you
sent us a good angel, _sua eccellenza_!"
Paolo ceased speaking; but, with all the impetuosity of an Italian, he
seized one of Mr. Earnscliffe's hands and pressed it to his lips. Mr.
Earnscliffe flushed. He _felt_ that Mr. Elliot was laughing at this
scene; and one of his weak points was a horror of ridicule even from
those whom he despised. Yet he would not hurt Paolo by showing that
his demonstrative gratitude annoyed him; so he said gently, "_Grazie,
amico, ritorneremo adesso!_"
Mr. Elliot exclaimed in a bantering tone, "Why, you are the eighth
wonder of the world, Earnscliffe; and what a fool I was to be angry
with you just now, when you were so ready to strangle me for laughing
at that wretched fisherman's absurd story about the _Madonna_. You must
confess, however, that you are about the last person whom one could
have expected to act so. I myself have heard you hold up to scorn the
worship of idols before dignitaries of the Romish Church,--before men
whose position, one might have thought, would have prevented you from
attempting to ridicule their creed in their presence. Yet you were
ready to fight with me for venturing to laugh at the same thing in
this fisherman!"
An expression of unutterable contempt was visible in Mr. Earnscliffe's
face as he replied--
"Can you not understand that one should laugh at anything so false and
absurd as this species of idolatry in those who ought to know better,
and yet respect it, yes, religiously, in a man to whom has been denied
the means of knowing what is and what is not true? If you cannot, I
pity you; but it is vain to answer you. All I can say is that I would
rather have died than have acted as you have done to-day."
"Upon my word, Earnscliffe, if ever any man had a right to quarrel with
another, I have that right now."
"Then use it by all means, if you like, although I cannot see what you
would gain by it."
"I believe you are right there, and you are so strange a mortal that
one may as well let you alone. I declare it would not astonish me
to hear you say that you considered that fellow there to be a more
respectable personage than Monseigneur N----, brother to an English
Earl, and covered with honours and distinctions!"
"Of course I do,--_one_ of them is respectable, because he is true; the
_other_ is not, because he is a hypocrite."
Here appeared Mr. Earnscliffe's ill-formed intolerance. He could
not understand that men of education and great intelligence could
sincerely believe what appeared to him to be folly, and therefore it
was hypocrisy. In the world around him he saw so much falseness and
self-interestedness, that he became a harsh judge of his fellows. Had
he exercised towards them only a small portion of the indulgence which
he extended to the untaught and to the poor, he would have seen many
virtues which in his sweeping severity he overlooked.
When they reached the shore they saw a party from Sorrento
disembarking, and Mr. Elliot recognised some intimate friends of his.
They begged him to join them, but he pleaded his engagement to dine
with his friend Earnscliffe.
"Even so," they answered; "could you not stroll with us a little before
you dine?"
"Excuse me for a moment then;" and turning to Mr. Earnscliffe he said,
"I believe my absence would be more agreeable to you than my company
until dinner time, and, perhaps, even then you would rather dispense
with it!"
"Nay," he rejoined, laughing, "I am not quite so bad as that. I do not
ask people to dine with me and then wish to get rid of them. My invited
guest shall always find a welcome at my table if he chooses to accept
it. Do we say _adieu_ then, or _au revoir_?"
"_Au revoir,--se piace a sua eccellenza_," and with a gay glance at
Paolo he turned and followed his friends.
The dinner had been ordered for two, but Mr. Earnscliffe now determined
to add another guest in the person of the resident doctor, with whom he
had a slight acquaintance.
A little before the time appointed Mr. Elliot returned from his walk in
high spirits, and was introduced to Doctor Molini, who spoke English;
so they conversed generally in that language.
As they sipped their coffee and had lighted their cigars after dinner,
Mr. Earnscliffe alluded to the story which they had heard in the
morning, and said that Dr. Molini was the gentleman of whom Paolo had
spoken as having seen the child in her illness; upon which Mr. Elliot
exclaimed, "Then, Dr. Molini, perhaps, you can tell us the truth as to
how they got that money, instead of the story that Paolo related about
a beautiful golden-haired lady, dressed in white, appearing to the
child and giving it to her?"
"Signore, I can only confirm what he said; it is all perfectly true."
"You surely cannot mean to tell me that the Madonna brought down the
gold pieces from heaven!"
"De facts are, as I said before, all true, but not de inference which
dese poor people draw, dat it was de Madonna who appeared to Anina.
I happened to walk dat way; I saw a beautiful lady in white and wid
golden hair speak to de child, kiss her, den go away. I was curious,--I
did follow her until I saw her run to a _signore_ and lean upon his
shoulder, as he sat on a rock drawing. I knew dey were English, and
raising de hat, I said dat I hoped _il signore et la signora_ were
pleased wid our poor island. _Il signore_ said, 'Yes, very much.' Den
_la signora_ asked if I could tell her anything about a lovely little
child she had just seen. I said I was de doctor of Capri and knew
de child, but dat I feared she would die from weakness, her parents
being very poor, and de bad time had made it hard for dem to live. _La
signora_ said she was glad to learn it, and as I was a doctor, perhaps,
I would look at de child sometimes and see her cared for, and she put
money into my hand. It was not wonderful for de child to call her de
Madonna, she was so beautiful; her hat and cloak were on a rock by de
_signore_, and her hair sparkled like bright gold in de sun. I suppose
she was his bride,--I tink so. He told me dey must return to Naples,
and wished me _buon giorno_, and _la signora_ said, 'Please not to
forget de pretty child, and I shall be grateful to you.' I answered,
putting my hand on my heart, dat it was a happiness to me to serve so
gracious a lady. _Il signore_ looked impatient, and as if he did not
want me to stay, so I left dem, but I have never forgotten her or de
charge she left to my care."
Mr. Elliot laughed at this specimen of foreign forwardness and English
reserve as he answered, "Well, we shall not quarrel with you for having
been a little curious, as it has procured us the pleasure of learning
the truth about the story, which is really a most interesting and
remarkable one. But"--turning to Mr. Earnscliffe--"I must leave you
now, for, as you know, my time is running close."
"Stay a moment, I will get my hat and walk down to the shore with you;
perhaps Dr. Molini will accompany us?"
"I should like it very much but I have a call to make, so I must wish
you _felice notte_ now."
The good little doctor took his departure after much bowing, and Mr.
Earnscliffe and his friend set out on their walk. After some desultory
chat the former asked, "Are there many English at Sorrento now?"
"Yes," replied the other, "the hotels are said to be very full;--by
the way, there were two acquaintances of yours staying at my hotel in
Naples, which I only left the day before yesterday,--Mr. Caulfield and
Mr. Lyne."
"Mr. Lyne! Is it possible that he is in Naples? Are you quite sure of
it?"
"Very possible indeed, my dear friend. I saw him there two days ago."
"You amaze me: but is he not going back to Rome? Is he not going to be
married?"
"Married! I should say not; and he certainly is not returning to Rome,
since he starts in a few days for Sicily."
They had reached the shore, and Mr. Elliot added--
"Do you wish to know if there is any probability of his being married;
he seems to interest you so much?"
"Thank you, no; he does not interest me in the least. I was merely
astonished to hear of his being in Naples, for in Rome he was said to
be on the eve of marriage with an English lady there."
"_Addio_ then. Come and see me at Sorrento some day,--it will be a
change for you."
"You are very kind, but I do not want change; I like my island
solitude. Good-bye." And Mr. Earnscliffe turned immediately away as the
boatman pushed off.