full of animation, who lived next door to the Lavoratori family in the
suburb. "Be a good comrade like your father, whom everybody loves, and
you will be loved as he is. We have been told that, because you had
studied painting at Rome, you were inclined to be a little conceited,
and you certainly do go about the city in a coat that is hardly fitted
for an artisan. You have a very pleasing face, to be sure, but people
blame you for being ambitious."
"Where would be the harm?" rejoined Michel, working industriously beside
Magnani. "Who is not entitled to be ambitious?"
"I like the frankness of your reply, but every man who wishes to be
admired should begin by winning affection."
"Am I hated, pray, in this country, where I have just arrived, and where
I know no one as yet?"
"It is your own country; you were born here, your family is well known
here, and your father highly esteemed; and the very reason that
everybody has their eyes fixed on you is that you have just arrived.
People think you a comely fellow, well dressed and well built. So far as
I am able to judge, you have talent, the figures you have sketched and
colored up yonder are not mere vulgar daubs. Your father is proud of
you, but that is no reason why you should be proud of yourself. You are
still a child, you are several years younger than I; you have almost no
beard on your chin; you have never had an opportunity to furnish proofs
of courage and virtue. When you have suffered a little because of the
hardships of your condition in life, without complaining, then we will
forgive you for carrying your head high and swaying from your hips up as
you cross the street, with your cap over one ear. Otherwise we shall
tell you that you are trying to impose on us, and that if you are not an
artisan, but an artist, you had better ride in a carriage and not look
the young men of your own rank in the face; for, you see, your father is
a workman like us; he has talent in his line, and it may be more
difficult to paint flowers, fruit, and birds on a cornice than to hang
draperies at a window and arrange colors to harmonize in furnishing a
room. But the difference isn't so great that we are not cousins-german
in trade. I do not think that I am any better than the carpenter or
mason; why do you think yourself above me?"
"I have no such thought," Michel replied; "God preserve me from it!"
"In that case, why didn't you come to our artisans' ball last night? I
know that your cousin Vincenzo wanted to bring you, and you refused."
"Do not form a bad opinion of me for that, my friend; it may be that I
am of a melancholy and unsociable temperament."
"I don't believe it. Your face says the contrary. Forgive me for
speaking to you without ceremony; it is because I like you that I
reproach you in this way. But our carpet is all nailed here; we must go
somewhere else."
"Two or three of you to each chandelier!" cried the head lamplighter to
his men; "you will never finish if you scatter so!"
"I say! I am all alone!" cried Visconti, one of the lighters, a stout
fellow and fond of the bottle, who, having a little wine in his brain
already, did not hold the lighted match within two inches of the candle.
Michel, impressed by the lesson Magnani had given him, placed a stool
under the chandelier and attempted to assist Visconti.
"Ah! that is right!" said the latter; "Master Michel's a good fellow,
and he will have his reward. The princess pays well, and moreover she
wants everybody to enjoy themselves in her house on fête days. There
will be a supper for us after the dessert of the nobility's supper, and
there'll be no lack of good wine. I have already had a little on account
as I passed through the pantry."
"And so you are burning your fingers!" said Michel, with a smile.
"Perhaps your hand won't be as steady as it is now, two or three hours
later," retorted Visconti; "for you will come to supper with us, won't
you, young man? Your father will sing us his old ballads, which are
always good for a laugh. There'll be more than a hundred of us at table
at once! Ah! what a lark we will have!"
"Make room, make room!" cried a tall footman, with gold lace on all the
seams of his livery; "the princess is coming to see if everything is
ready. Make haste, stand aside! Don't shake the carpets so hard, you
raise a dust. I say! you lighters up there, don't drop the wax so! take
away your tools, make a passage!"
"Well," said the majordomo, "now you will hold your peace, I trust, you
workmen! Come, make haste; if you are late, at least act as if you were
hurrying. I won't be responsible for the rebuke you are going to
receive. I am very sorry for you. But it's your own fault; I can't
justify you. Ah! Master Pier-Angelo, this time you have no excuse for
coming to beg for compliments."
These words reached young Michel's ears, and all his pride reawoke in
his heart. The idea that his father could _beg for_ compliments and
receive reproaches was intolerable to him. If he had not as yet been
able to see the princess, he could fairly say that he had made no
attempt to see her. He was not one of those who run eagerly at the heels
of a wealthy and powerful person, to feast that person's eyes with the
spectacle of puerile and servile admiration. But this time he stooped as
he stood on the stool, seeking with his eyes that haughty personage who,
according to Master Barbagallo, would in a moment humiliate an
assemblage of intelligent and willing mechanics with a gesture or a
word. He remained in that position, considerably above the level of the
crowd, in order to see better, but all ready to jump down, rush to his
old father's side, and answer for him if, in a spasm of too great
affability, the heedless old man should allow himself to be insulted.
The vast apartment which they were hastening to complete was nothing
more than an immense garden terrace, covered on the outside with such a
wilderness of foliage, garlands and streamers, that one might have taken
it for an enormous bower after the style of Watteau. Within, movable
floors had been laid on the gravel. Three great marble fountains,
decorated with mythological characters, were not at all in the way in
that extemporized ball-room, but formed its most beautiful decoration.
There was sufficient room to promenade and to dance between those
graceful piles. They discharged their jets of limpid water into
veritable thickets of flowers, beneath the resplendent glare of the
great chandeliers, which spangled them with sparks of light. Benches,
arranged as in an ancient amphitheatre, dotted with rose-bushes here and
there, provided numerous seats for the guests and did not impede the
circulation.
The ceiling was so high that the main stairway of the palace, an
admirable piece of architecture, adorned with antique statues and jasper
urns of the most beautiful patterns, was wholly within the ball-room.
The white marble stairs were newly covered with a purple carpet, and the
lackeys who preceded the princess having swept back the crowd of
workmen, there was a solemn void about the foot of the staircase.
Everybody instinctively held his peace in anticipation of a majestic
spectacle.
The workmen, impelled by a feeling of curiosity, ingenuous and
respectful in some, mocking and indifferent in others, all fixed their
eyes on the great carved doors at the top of the staircase. Michel felt
that his heart was beating fast, but it was with anger no less than with
impatience. "Who in God's name are these nobles and wealthy mortals," he
said to himself, "that they walk so proudly over the altars and
platforms that our degraded hands construct for them? A goddess of
Olympus would hardly be worthy to appear in such state, at the summit of
such a temple, to the base mortals prostrate at her feet! Oh! insolence,
falsehood and mockery! It may be that the woman who is about to come
forth before my eyes is a woman of narrow mind, of ordinary parts; and
yet all these bold, strong men, uncover at her approach!"
Michel had asked his father very few questions concerning Princess
Agatha's tastes and character; and even those few questions Pier-Angelo
had answered, especially of late, in an absent-minded way, as his custom
was when anyone introduced a subject foreign to the train of thought
induced by his work. But Michel was proud, and the thought that he was
about to be brought face to face with some one prouder than himself
aroused a feeling of anger and something like hatred in his heart.
VII
A GLANCE
When the Princess of Palmarosa appeared at the top of the stairs, Michel
thought that he saw before him a girl of fifteen, she was so lithe and
slender in figure and in attitude; but, at each stair that she
descended, he discovered an additional year upon her brow; and when he
saw her near at hand, he concluded that she was about thirty. That did
not prevent her from being beautiful; not resplendent and superb, but
pure and sweet, like the bunch of white cyclamen she carried in her
hand. She had a reputation for grace and charm rather than for beauty;
for she had never been a coquette, and did not seek to create a
sensation. Many much less beautiful women had kindled passions because
they had chosen so to do. Princess Agatha had never furnished food for
gossip, and if there had ever been any profound emotion in her life,
society had never had any positive knowledge of it.
She was very charitable, indeed, it might be said that her only
occupation was the distribution of alms; but it was done without parade
or ostentation, and she was not called the mother of the poor. In a
majority of cases the people whom she assisted did not know the source
of the assistance they received. She was not a very regular attendant at
church, although she did not avoid religious services. She had artistic
tastes, and surrounded herself most discerningly with the most beautiful
objects and the noblest minds. But she did not shine in the centre of
her social system, nor did she make a pedestal of her connections or her
wealth. In everything it seemed that she preferred to do as all the
world did, and that, whether from apathy, from good taste, or from
inward timidity, she had made it an object in life never to attract
notice. There never was a more inoffensive woman. People esteemed her,
loved her without enthusiasm, appreciated her worth without jealousy.
But was she appreciated at her true worth? That is something that it
would have been difficult to say. She was not supposed to have a great
intellect. The highest praise that her oldest friends bestowed upon her
was to say that she was an absolutely reliable person and of a very even
disposition.
All this could be readily seen in the first glance that one cast upon
her, and young Michel, as he watched her descend the staircase with
careless grace, felt his aversion vanish with his dread. It was
impossible to retain a feeling of irritation in presence of so pure, and
calm, and sweet a face. But, as he had prepared, in his anger, to defy
the awe-inspiring glance of a domineering and splendid beauty, he felt
as if his mind were relieved of a great weight when he saw an ordinary
woman. He had an instinctive feeling that, even if she came to scold,
she would have neither the energy, nor, perhaps, the spirit to be
insulting. His heart became calmer, and he gazed at her with increasing
tranquillity, as if the refreshing fluid emanating from a serene mind
had found its way from her to him.
She was richly but simply dressed in a heavy silk gown of a dull milky
white, without ornament. A small circle of diamonds embellished her
glossy black hair, parted in bands over a smooth, pure forehead.
Doubtless she could have worn richer jewels, but her coronet was a work
of art of most excellent workmanship, and did not weary her small,
admirably poised head with a dragging weight. Her shoulders, half bare,
had lost the interesting thinness of early youth, and had not yet
attained the luxuriant rotundity of the third or fourth youth. There
were still some delicate lines in her figure, and in her every movement
a careless suppleness, which seemed to be unaware of its own existence
and to pose for no one.
With the end of her fan she slowly waved aside the footman and the
majordomo, who were exerting themselves to make room for her, and passed
before them, stepping easily and without awkward haste over the boards
and rolls of carpet which still lay in her path; and with a sort of
heedlessness, humble or lordly, as you please, allowing the long folds
of her beautiful white silk dress to drag in the dust left by the feet
of the mechanics. With no sign of repugnance, perhaps without observing
them, she brushed against the perspiring workmen, who could not step
aside quickly enough. She passed through a group of gardeners, who were
moving huge boxes, and did not seem to notice or to be disturbed by the
danger of being crushed or wounded. She returned the salutations of
those who saluted her, without the slightest assumption of superiority
or patronage, and when she was in the midst of the swarm of men, boards,
ladders, and canvas, she halted very calmly, looked about to see what
was finished and what was not, and said in a mild and encouraging voice:
"Well, _gentlemen_, do you hope to have everything finished in time? We
have barely half an hour."
"I will answer for everything, my dear princess," replied Pier-Angelo,
approaching her with a cheerful air; "don't you see that I am putting my
hand to everything?"
"In that case, I have no fear," said she, "and I rely also upon
everybody here. It would be a pity to leave such a beautiful piece of
work unfinished. I am exceedingly pleased. It is all conceived with
taste and executed with great care. I thank you very much for the pains
you have taken to do the work well, _gentlemen_, and this fête will
redound to your glory."
"My son Michel will have his share in it, I trust," rejoined the old
decorator; "will your ladyship deign to permit me to present him to you?
Come, Michel, come and kiss the princess's hand, my son; she is a kind
princess, you see!"
Michel did not move a muscle to approach them. Although the way in which
the princess had _scolded_ his father had touched him and won his heart,
he was by no means inclined to humble himself before her. He was well
aware that the Italian custom of kissing a lady's hand denotes either
the respectful homage of a friend or the prostration of an inferior,
and, having no right to claim the former title, he did not choose to
descend to the other. He removed his velvet cap and stood erect,
affecting to look the princess in the face with perfect self-possession.
Thereupon she fixed her eyes upon him, and, whether because her features
wore an expression of kindness and cordiality in contrast to the
careless good-nature of her manners, or because Michel was assailed by a
strange hallucination, he was stirred to the lowest depths of his being
by that unexpected glance. It seemed to him that a searching flame,
intense and penetrating, entered his very soul from the great lady's
soft eyes; that an ineffable affection, coming forth from that unknown
heart, had taken possession of his whole being; in short, that the
Princess Agatha said to him in language more eloquent than any human
words: "Come to my arms, come to my heart!"
Michel, bewildered, fascinated, beside himself, shuddered, turned pale,
approached with an involuntary, convulsive movement, tremblingly took
the princess's hand, and, as he was about to put it to his lips, raised
his eyes once more to hers, thinking that he had been mistaken, and that
he could in that way put an end to a dream that was at once painful and
delicious. But those pure and limpid eyes expressed a love so absolute
and so trustful that he lost his head, felt that his senses were leaving
him, and fell as if crushed at the signora's feet.
When he recovered his presence of mind, the princess was already several
steps away. She walked on, followed by Pier-Angelo, and when they were
alone at the farther end of the room, they seemed to be discussing some
detail of the fête. Michel was ashamed; his emotion rapidly vanished in
face of the thought that he had presented to all his companions a
spectacle of incredible weakness and presumption; but, as the princess's
kind words had electrified them all, and as they had all resumed their
labor with a sort of joyful frenzy, they sang and hammered, and bustled
about him, and his adventure was a mere incident, lost, or at least not
understood, in the crowd. Some had noticed, with a smile, that he bowed
lower than he needed to do, and that it was apparently an aristocratic
and gallant habit which he had brought from abroad with his haughty air
and his fine clothes. Others thought that he had stumbled over a board
when he was about to bow, and that his awkwardness had caused his
confusion.
Magnani alone had watched him closely and half guessed the truth.
"Michel," he said, after a few moments, when their work had brought them
together once more, "you seem very timid, but I believe that you are
insanely bold. It is certain that the princess thought you a handsome
fellow, and that she looked at you in a certain way which might have
meant something very different on the part of any other woman; but do
not be too presumptuous, my boy; this excellent princess is a virtuous
lady; she has never been known to have a lover, and if she chose to take
one, it isn't at all likely that she would begin with a little painter
in distemper, when so many illustrious noblemen ----"
"Hush, Magnani," said Michel, vehemently; "your jests wound me, and I
have never given you the right to laugh at me in this way; I won't
endure it."
"Come, no temper," rejoined the young journeyman; "I have no intention
of offending you, and when a man has arms like mine, he would be a
coward to insult a boy like you. Besides, I am not naturally unkind, and
as I told you before, if I speak frankly to you, it is because I am
inclined to like you. I feel that you have a mind superior to mine,
which attracts and charms me. But I also feel that you have a weak
character and a wild imagination. If you have more intelligence and more
refinement, I have more common sense and experience. Do not take my
reflections in bad part. You have no friends among us as yet, and you
could already reckon more than one enmity prepared to break out, if you
should incline to see what is going on around you. I may be able to be
of service to you in some way, and if you listen to my warning, you will
avoid many vexations which you do not foresee. Come, Michel, do you
scorn me, and reject my friendship?"
"On the contrary, I request it," replied Michel, moved and completely
conquered by Magnani's frankness; "and I propose to show myself worthy
of it by justifying myself. I know nothing, I believe nothing, I think
nothing of the princess. For the first time in my life I see so great a
lady at close quarters, and ----. But why do you smile?"
"You stop to ask about my smile to avoid finishing your sentence. I will
finish it for you. You find that a great lady is something divine, and
you fall madly in love with her. You love grandeur! I understood that
perfectly the first time I saw you."
"No, no!" cried Michel, "I have not fallen in love; I do not know this
woman, and, as for her grandeur, I do not know in what it consists. You
might as well say that I am in love with her palace, her dress, or her
diamonds, for thus far I have seen no other signs of superiority, except
excellent taste, in which we assist her materially, it seems to me, as
well as her jeweller and her dressmaker."
"As you know nothing more of her, that is well said," rejoined Magnani;
"but in that case will you explain to me why you nearly fainted when you
kissed her hand?"
"Do you explain it to me, if you can; for my part, I have no idea. I
knew that ladies had a way of using their eyes which was bolder than
that of a courtesan, and at the same time more contemptuous than that of
a nun. Yes, I had noticed that; and that blending of seduction and pride
drove me wild when I happened, against my will, to touch elbows with any
of them in a crowd. And that is why I hated great ladies. But this one
has a glance which resembles no other woman's. I could not undertake to
say whether it is voluptuous languor or good-humored torpor; but no
woman ever looked at me so, and ---- what can you expect, Magnani? I am
young and impressionable, and it gave me the vertigo; that is all. I am
not intoxicated with vanity, I swear, for I am perfectly certain that
she would have looked at you in the same way if chance had placed your
face before her instead of mine."
"I don't believe it," replied Magnani, pensively.
He had dropped his hammer and seated himself on a bench. He seemed to be
struggling painfully to solve a problem.
"Ah! young men!" exclaimed old Pier-Angelo, as he passed them; "you are
chattering and not working; only the old men know how to work fast."
Touched by the rebuke, Michel hastened to assist his father, after
whispering to his new friend that they would resume their conversation
later.
"Your best course," said Magnani, in an undertone, with a strange
expression, "will be to think as little as possible about it."
Michel loved his father fervently, and with good reason. Pier-Angelo was
a man of spirit, of courage, and of sound sense. An artist in his way,
he followed the good old traditions in his work, and was not irritated
by the innovations that he saw all about him. On the contrary, he very
quickly assimilated such progressive ideas as he was made to understand.
He was an easy-going, jovial mortal, optimistic in general, tolerant in
particular cases, almost never ascribing evil intentions, but never
paltering with them when it was no longer possible for him to entertain
his generous illusions. A straightforward, simple, unselfish soul,
content with little, entertained by everything, loving work for himself,
and money for others, that is to say, living from day to day, and unable
to deny his neighbor anything.
Providence had given the impulsive Michel the only guide he could ever
have accepted; for that young man was entirely different from his father
in several respects. He was restless, suspicious, slightly egotistical,
with a decided tendency toward ambition, instability and anger. And yet
his also was a noble nature, because it was sincerely in love with the
noble and the great, and surrendered enthusiastically when its
confidence was justified. But it is beyond question that his temperament
was less happy than it might have been, that his active and inquisitive
intellect often fed upon itself; and that his sensitive and excitable
mind sometimes made a desperate onslaught on the tranquillity of his
heart.
If a rough hand, the heavy hand of a mechanic desperately bent upon
money-making, or subject to all the jealous indignation peculiar to the
republican spirit, had undertaken to mould young Michel's mobile nature
and discontented mind, it would have driven them to exasperation and
would speedily have shattered or destroyed them. The improvident and
cheerful temper of Pier-Angelo had acted as a counterpoise and sedative
upon his passionate instincts. He rarely talked the language of cold
reason to him, and never thwarted his fickle inclinations. But the
fearless heedlessness of certain natures has a sympathetic effect which
makes us blush for our weaknesses, and acts upon us more powerfully by
example, by precepts nobly and simply put in execution, than all the
speeches and sermons in the world could do. It was by this means that
Pier-Angelo, while seeming to accede to Michel's desires and caprices,
still exerted the only ascendancy to which he could have been induced to
submit.
VIII
THE INTRUDER
Once more, when he saw his father doing the work of two, Michel was
ashamed of his absent-mindedness, and hastened to assist him. There was
still a temporary staircase to be erected at one side of the ball-room,
to communicate with a gallery on the floor above, and afford the
anticipated crowd an additional artery of circulation.