PIETRO GHISLERI
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PIETRO GHISLERI
BY
F. MARION CRAWFORD
AUTHOR OF "SARACINESCA," "THE THREE FATES," ETC.
New York
MACMILLAN & CO.
AND LONDON
1893
_All rights reserved_
COPYRIGHT, 1892,
BY MACMILLAN & CO.
Norwood Press:
J.S. Cushing & Co.--Berwick & Smith.
Boston, Mass., U.S.A.
PIETRO GHISLERI.
CHAPTER I.
The relation of two step-sisters is unusual. When the Honourable Mrs.
Carlyon came to Rome twenty years ago, a young widow and the mother of a
little girl named Laura, she did not foresee the complications which her
second marriage was to produce. She was a good woman in her way, and if
she had guessed what it would mean to be the step-mother of Adele
Braccio she might have hesitated before marrying Camillo of that name,
commonly known as the Prince of Gerano. For the Prince had also been
married before, and his first wife had left him this one child, Adele,
who was only a year and a half older than little Laura Carlyon. No
children were born to the Gerano couple, and the two girls were brought
up together as though they were sisters. The Prince and Princess were
deeply attached to each other and to them both, so that for many years
Casa Gerano was justly looked upon as a model household.
Mrs. Carlyon was very poor when she came to Rome. Her husband had been a
careless, good-humoured, and rather reckless younger son, and when he
broke his neck in coming down the Gross Glockner he left his widow about
as much as men of his stamp generally leave to their families; to wit, a
fearful and wonderful confusion of unpaid debts and a considerable
number of promises to pay money, signed by persons whose promises were
not of much consequence, even when clearly set down on paper. It seems
to be a peculiarity of poor and good-natured men that they will lend
whatever money they have to impecunious friends in distress rather than
use it for the paying of the just debts they owe their tailors.
Gerano was rich. It does not by any means follow that Mrs. Carlyon
married him for his money, though she could not have married him without
it. She fell in love with him. He, on his part, having made a marriage
of interest when he took his first wife, and having led by no means a
very peaceful existence with the deceased Princess, considered that he
had earned the right to please himself, and accordingly did so.
Moreover, Mrs. Carlyon was a Catholic, which singularly facilitated
matters in the eyes of Gerano's numerous relations. Jack Carlyon had
been of the Church of England; and though anything but a practising
believer, if he believed in anything at all, he had nevertheless
absolutely insisted that his daughter should be brought up in his own
creed. On this one point he had displayed all the tenacity he possessed,
and the supply then seemed to be exhausted so far as other matters were
concerned. His wife was a very conscientious woman, altogether superior
to him in character, and she continued to respect his wishes, even after
his death. Laura, she said, should choose for herself when she was old
enough. In the meantime she should go to the English Church. The
consequence was that the little girl had an English nurse and afterwards
an English governess, while Adele was taken care of and taught by
Catholics. Under these circumstances, and as the step-sisters were not
related by blood or even by race, it is not strange that they should
have grown up to be as different as possible, while living under the
same roof and calling the same persons father and mother.
The question of religion alone could certainly not have brought about
the events here to be chronicled, and it may be as well to say at once
that this history is not in the least concerned with matters of faith,
creed, or dogma, which are better left to those good men whose business
it is to understand them. The main and striking points of contrast were
these. Adele was barely more than pretty. Laura was all but beautiful.
Adele was a great heiress, and Laura had nothing or next to nothing to
expect at her mother's death. Adele was quick-witted, lively, given to
exaggeration in her talk, and not very scrupulous as to questions of
fact. Laura was slow to decide, but tenacious of her decisions, and, on
the whole, very truthful.
In appearance, so far as generalities were concerned, the contrast
between the two girls was less marked. Both were of the dark type, but
Laura's complexion was paler than Adele's and her hair was blacker, as
well as thicker and more glossy. Laura's eyes were large, very deep set,
and dark. There was something strange in their look, something quite
unusual, and which might almost be called holy, if that were not too
strong a word to use in connexion with a woman of the world. Spicca, the
melancholy duellist, who was still alive at that time, used to say that
no one could possibly be as good as Laura Carlyon looked; a remark which
showed that he was acquainted with the sayings of a great English wit,
and was not above making use of them. Probably some part of the effect
produced by Laura's eyes was due to the evenly perfect whiteness of her
skin and the straight black brows which divided them from the broad low
forehead. For her hair grew low, and she wore it in a simple fashion
without that abundance of little curls which even then were considered
almost essential to woman's beauty. Her pallor, too, was quite natural,
for she had a good constitution and had rarely even had a headache. In
figure she was well proportioned, of average height and rather strongly
made, with large, firm, well-shaped hands. On the whole, a graceful
girl, but not in that way remarkable among others of her own age. In her
face, and altogether in her presence, the chief attraction lay in the
look of her eyes, which made one forget to notice the well-chiselled
nose,--a little short perhaps,--the really beautiful mouth, and the
perfect teeth. The chin, too, was broad and firm--too firm, some might
have said, for one so young. Considering all these facts together, most
people agreed that Laura was not far from being a great beauty.
Adele was somewhat shorter than her step-sister, and more inclined to be
stout. Her black eyes were set nearer together, and her eyebrows almost
met, while her lustreless hair curled naturally in a profusion of tiny
ringlets upon her forehead. The small fine nose reminded one of a
ferret, and the white teeth looked sharp and pointed when the somewhat
thin lips parted and showed them; but she was undoubtedly pretty, and
something more than pretty. Her face had colour and animation, she
carried her small head well, and her gestures were graceful and easy.
She was fluent, too, in conversation and ready at all times with a quick
answer. Any one could see, in spite of her plump figure, that she was of
a very nervous constitution, restless, unsettled, and easily moved,
capable of considerable determination when really affected. She never
understood Laura, nor did Laura really understand her.
In the natural course of events, social and domestic, it became
necessary to choose a husband for Adele so soon as she made her first
appearance in society. At that time Laura was not yet seventeen. Gerano
had already looked about him and had made up his mind. He was a little
dark-eyed man, grey, thin and nervous, but gifted with an unusually
agreeable manner, a pleasant tone of voice, a frank glance, and an
extremely upright character--a man much liked in the world and a good
deal respected.
He had determined that if possible his daughter should marry Don
Francesco Savelli, a worthy young person, his father's eldest son, heir
to a good estate and a still better name, and altogether a most
desirable husband from all points of view. Gerano met with no serious
difficulty in bringing about what he wished, and in due time Don
Francesco was affianced to Donna Adele, and was privileged to visit at
the Palazzo Braccio almost as often as he pleased. He thus saw Laura
Carlyon often, and he very naturally fell in love with her. He had no
particular inclination to marry Donna Adele, but obeyed his father
blindly, as a matter of course, just as Adele obeyed Gerano. That was a
part of the old Roman system. Laura, however, did not fall in love with
Francesco. She was perhaps too young yet, or it is quite possible that
Francesco was too dull and uninteresting a personage in her eyes. But
Adele saw these things, and was very angry when she was quite sure that
her future husband would have greatly preferred to marry her
step-sister. She may be pardoned for having been jealous, for the
situation was hardly bearable.
Francesco did not, indeed, make love to Laura. Even had he been rash
enough for that, he was in reality too much a gentleman at heart to have
done such a thing. He knew very well that he was to marry Adele, whether
he cared for her or not, and he behaved with great propriety and with
not a little philosophy. The virtue of resignation had been carefully
developed in him from his childhood, and Francesco's parents now reaped
their reward: he would not have thought of opposing them by word or
deed.
But he could not hide what he felt. Like many good young men, he was
sensitive, and if he alternately blushed and turned pale when Laura
spoke to him, it was not his fault. His father and mother could
assuredly not expect him to control the circulation of his blood when it
chose to rise above the line of his collar, or seemed to sink to the
level of his boots. Adele was, however, at first very angry, and then
very jealous, and at last hated her step-sister with all her heart, as
young women can hate under circumstances of great provocation.
Meanwhile, Laura remained calmly unconscious of all that was happening.
Francesco Savelli's outward and worldly advantages did not appeal to her
in the least. The fact that he was fair had no interest for her any
more than the fact that the old Prince of Gerano was dark. She talked to
the young man a little, when the conversation was general, just as she
talked to every one else, when she had anything to say, because she was
not naturally shy. But she never attempted to manufacture remarks when
nothing came to her lips, because she was not yet called upon to do so.
Nor was her silence by any means golden, so far as Savelli was
concerned. When she was not speaking to him, she took no notice of him.
His hair might be as yellow as mustard and his eyes as blue as
periwinkles, as his admirers said; she did not care. If possible, Adele
hated her even more for caring so little.
In due time Francesco Savelli married Adele Braccio and took her to live
under his father's roof. After the great event peace descended once more
upon the household for a time, and Laura Carlyon saw much less of her
adorer. Not, indeed, that there had been any open conflict between the
step-sisters, nor even a declaration of war. Laura had attributed
Adele's coldness to her excitement about the marriage, natural enough
under the circumstances, and had not been hurt by it, while Adele had
carefully kept her jealousy to herself; but when the two met afterwards,
Laura felt that she was immeasurably far removed from anything like
intimacy or real friendship with the bride, and she was surprised that
Francesco should pay so much attention to herself.
The young couple came to the Palazzo Braccio at regular intervals, and
at all these family gatherings Savelli spent his time in making
conversation for Laura. He was a very worthy young man, as has been
said, and his talents were not of the highest order, but he did his
best, and succeeded at least in making Laura think him passably
agreeable. She was willing to hear him talk, and Adele noted the fact.
When she drove home from her father's house with her husband, he was
generally abstracted and gave random answers to her questions or
observations. At the end of a year it was clear that he still loved
Laura in a hopeless, helpless, sentimental fashion of his own, and Adele
hated her more than ever. A second year and a third went by, and Laura
had been some time in society; still the situation remained unchanged.
The world said that the young Savelli were a very happy couple, but it
always looked at Laura Carlyon with an odd expression, as though it knew
something strange about her; something not quite right, which it was
willing to tolerate for the sake of the amusement to be got by watching
her. The world is the generic appellation of all those who go down to
the sea of society in long gowns or white ties, and live and move and
have their being therein. Other people do not count, even when they are
quite bad, although they may have very big names and a great deal of
money. The world, therefore, wagged its head and said that Laura Carlyon
was in love with her brother-in-law, or, to be quite accurate, with her
step-brother-in-law, because she was dark and his hair was so
exceedingly yellow. The world also went on to say that Donna Adele
behaved very kindly about it, and that it was so good of Francesco
Savelli to talk to Laura just as if there were nothing wrong; for, it
added, if he were to avoid her, there would certainly be gossip before
long. No one who does not live in society need attempt to follow this
sequence of ideas. As usual, too, nobody took the least trouble to find
out the origin of the story, but everybody was quite sure of having
heard it at first hand from the one person who knew.
The Princess of Gerano took her daughter everywhere. She had
conscientiously done her duty towards Adele, and was sincerely fond of
her besides; but she loved Laura almost as much as the good mother in
the story-book loves her only child when the latter has done something
particularly disgraceful. She was at first annoyed and then made
seriously anxious by the young girl's total failure in society, from the
social point of view. Laura was beautiful, good, and accomplished. Ugly,
spiteful, and stupid girls succeeded better than she, though some of
them had no better prospect of a dowry. The good lady sought in vain the
cause of the trouble, but failed to find it out. Had she been born in
Rome, she would doubtless have had many kind friends to help her in the
solution of the difficulty. But though she bore a Roman name, and had
adopted Roman customs and had led a Roman life for nearly twenty years,
she was tacitly looked upon as a foreigner, and her daughter was treated
in the same way, though she, at least, spoke the language as her own.
Moreover, the girl was not a Catholic, and that was an additional
disadvantage where matrimony was concerned. It became evident to the
Princess that she was not likely to find a husband for her
daughter--certainly not such a husband as she had dreamed that Laura
might love, and who was to love her and make her happy.
It must not be supposed that Gerano himself would have been indifferent
if he had known the real facts of the case. But he did not. Like many
elderly Romans, he hardly ever went into society and took very little
interest in its doings. He was very much concerned with the
administration of his fortune, and for his own daughter's welfare in her
new surroundings. He spent a good deal of time at his club, and was
often in the country, even in the height of the season. He supposed that
no one asked for Laura's hand because she was dowerless, and he was
sincerely sorry for it; but it did not enter his mind to provide her
with a suitable portion out of his abundance. He was too conscientious
for that. What he had inherited from his father must go down intact to
his child and to her children,--a son had already been born to the young
Savelli,--and to divide the property, or to take from it anything like a
fortune for Laura, would be little short of actual robbery in the eyes
of a Braccio.
Laura herself was perhaps less disturbed by the coldness she encountered
than her mother was for her sake. She had a certain contempt for young
girls of her age and younger, whose sole idea was to be married as soon
as possible and with the greatest advantage to themselves. She was not
very vain and did not expect great admiration on the one hand, nor any
particular dislike on the other. Her character, too, was one that must
develop slowly, if it were ever to attain its mature growth. She
doubtless had moments of annoyance and even of depression; for few young
girls, and certainly no women, are wholly unconscious of neglect in
society. But although she was naturally inclined to melancholy, as her
eyes clearly showed, she was not by nature morbid, and assuredly not
more than usually imaginative.
The result of all this was, that she bore herself with considerable
dignity in the world, was generally believed to be older than she was,
and was to be seen more often dancing or talking with the foreigners at
parties than with the Romans.
"Who is that, Ghisleri?" asked Lord Herbert Arden of his old friend, one
evening early in the season, as he caught sight of Laura for the first
time.
"An English Roman girl," answered the Italian. "The daughter of the
Princess of Gerano by her first marriage--Miss Carlyon."
Lord Herbert had not been in Rome for three or four years, and was,
moreover, by no means acquainted with all Roman society.
"Will you introduce me?" he asked, looking up at Ghisleri.
Ghisleri led him across the room, introduced him and left the two
together, he being at that time very particularly engaged in another
quarter.
The contrast between the two men was very strong. Lord Herbert Arden was
almost, if not quite, a cripple, the victim in his infancy of a
serving-woman's carelessness. The nurse had let him fall, had concealed
the accident as long as she could, and the boy had grown up misshapen
and feeble. In despite of this, however, he was eminently a man at whom
every one looked twice. No one who had seen him could ever forget the
extreme nobility and delicacy of his pale face. Each feature completed
and gave dignity to the next--the broad, highly modelled forehead, the
prominent brow, the hollows at the temples, the clear, steady brown
eyes, the aquiline nose and sensitive nostrils, the calm, straight
mouth, and the firm, clearly cut chin--all were in harmony. And yet in
all the crowd that thronged the great drawing-rooms there was hardly a
man with whom the young Englishman would not have exchanged face and
figure, if only he might stand at the height of other men, straight and
square, and be free forever from the halting gait which made life in the
world so hard for him. He was very human, and made no great pretence of
resignation, nor indeed of any other virtue.
Pietro Ghisleri was a very different personage except, perhaps, in point
of humanity. He had seen and enjoyed much, if he had suffered much also,
and his face bore the traces of past pleasure and of past pain, though
he was not more than two-and-thirty years of age. It was a strong face,
too, and not without signs of superior intelligence and resolution. The
keen blue eyes had that trick of fixing themselves in conversation,
which belongs to combative temperaments. At other times they were sad in
expression, and often wore a weary look. Ghisleri's complexion might
almost have been called weather-beaten; for frequent and long exposure
to sun and weather had permanently changed its original colouring, which
had been decidedly fair. To adopt the simple style of his passport, he
might be described as six feet high, eyes blue, hair and moustache
brown, nose large, mouth normal, chin prominent, face somewhat
bony,--particular sign, a scar on the left temple. Like his old friend
Lord Herbert, he was one of the dozen men who always attract attention
in a crowded room. But of all those who looked at him, having known him
long, very few understood his character in the least, and all would have
been very much surprised if they could have guessed his thoughts,
especially on that particular evening when he introduced Arden to Miss
Carlyon. As for the rest, he was alone in the world, his own master, the
last of a Tuscan family that had refused to bear a title when titles
meant something and had not seen any reason for changing its mind in the
course of three or four centuries. He had a small fortune, sufficient
for his wants, and a castle somewhere, considerably the worse for war
and wear.
"I cannot dance, you see," said Arden, seating himself beside Laura,
"and I am afraid that I am not very brilliant in conversation. Are you a
very good-natured person?"
Laura turned her sad eyes upon her new acquaintance, and immediately
felt a thrill of sympathy for him, and of interest in his remarkable
face.
"No one ever told me," she answered. "Do you think you could find out? I
should like to know."
"What form of sin do you most affect?" asked Arden, with a smile. "Do
you more often do the things you ought not to do, or do you leave undone
the things which you ought to do?"
"Oh, I leave the good things undone, of course!" answered Laura. "I
suppose everybody does, as a rule."
"You are decidedly good-natured, particularly so in making that last
remark. I am less afraid of you than I was when I sat down."
The young girl looked at him again. His conversation was so far not like
that of the Englishmen she had known hitherto.
"Were you afraid of me?" she asked, beginning to smile.
"A little, I confess."
"Why? And if you were, why did you make Signor Ghisleri introduce you to
me?"
"Because nobody likes to own to being afraid. Besides, Ghisleri is a
very old friend of mine, and I can trust him not to lead me into
danger."
"Have you known him long?" asked Laura. "I have often wondered what he
is really like. I mean his character, you know, and what he thinks
about."
"He thinks a great deal. He is one of the most complicated characters I
ever knew, and I am not at all sure that I understand him yet, though we
have known each other ten years. He is a good friend and a rather
indifferent enemy, I should say. His chief apparent peculiarity is that
he hates gossip. You will not find it easy to get from him a
disagreeable remark about any one. Yet he is not good-natured."
"Perhaps he is afraid to say what he thinks," suggested the young girl.
"I doubt that," answered Arden, with a smile. "He has not a particularly
angelic reputation, I believe, but I never heard any one say that he was
timid."
"As you pretend to be," added Laura. "Do you know? You have not answered
my question. Why were you afraid of me, if you really were?"
Lord Herbert answered one question by another, and the conversation
continued pleasantly enough. It was a relief to him to find a young and
beautiful girl of his own nationality in surroundings with which neither
he nor she were really in sympathy. In the course of half an hour they
both felt as though they had known one another a long time. The
admiration Arden had felt for Laura at first sight had considerably
increased, and she on her side had half forgotten that he was a cripple.
Indeed, when he was seated, his deformities were far less noticeable
than when he stood or painfully moved about from place to place.
The two talked of a variety of subjects, but, with the exception of the
few words spoken about Ghisleri, there was no more reference to
personalities for a long time.
"I am keeping you away from the dancing," Arden said at last, as he
realised that the room was almost empty and that he had been absorbing
the beautiful Miss Carlyon's attention longer than might be pleasant to
her.
"Not at all," answered Laura. "I do not dance much."
"Why not? Do you not like dancing?" He asked the question in a tone of
surprise.
"On the contrary. But I am not taken out very often--perhaps because
they think me a foreigner. It is natural enough."
"Very unnatural, it seems to me. Besides, I believe you are
exaggerating, so as not to make me feel uncomfortable. It is of no use,
you know; I am not at all sensitive. Shall we go into the ball-room?"
"No; I would rather not, just yet."
"Shall I go and get Ghisleri to take you back?" inquired Arden, with a
little smile.
"Why?"
"Because I might make you look ridiculous," answered the cripple,
quietly.
He watched her, and saw a quick, pained look pass over her face. It was
at that particular moment that he began to love her, as he afterwards
remembered. She turned her eyes upon him as she answered after a
moment's hesitation.
"Lord Herbert, will you please never say anything like that to me
again?"
"Certainly not, if it offends you."
"It does not offend me. I do not mean that."
"What, then? Please tell me. I am not at all sensitive."
"It pains me. I do not like to fancy that any one can think such things
of me, much less...." she stopped short and looked down, slowly opening
and shutting her fan.
"Much less?"
Laura hesitated for some seconds, as though choosing her words with more
than ordinary care.
"Much less one whom it might pain to think them," she said at last.
The smile that had been on Arden's face faded away in the silence that
followed, and his lips moved a little as though he felt some kind of
emotion, while his large thin hands closed tightly upon his withered
knee.
"Have I said too much?" she asked, suddenly breaking the long pause.
"Or not quite enough, perhaps," he answered in a low voice.
Again they were both silent, and they both wondered inwardly that in
less than an hour's acquaintance they should have reached something like
a crisis. At last Laura rose slowly and deliberately, intending to give
her companion time to get to his feet.
"Will you give me your arm?" she said when he stood beside her. "I want
to introduce you to my mother."
Arden bent his head and held up his right arm for her hand. He was
considerably shorter than she. Then they walked away together, she erect
and easy in her girlish gait, he weak-kneed and awkward, seeming to
unjoint half his body at every painful step, helping himself along at
her side with the stick he held in his free hand--a strangely assorted
couple, the world said, as they went by.
"My mother's name is Gerano, Princess of Gerano," said Laura, by way of
explanation, as they came within sight of her.
"And is your father--I mean, is Prince Gerano--living?" asked Arden. He
had almost forgotten her name and her nationality in the interest he
felt in herself.
"Yes; but he rarely goes into society. I am very fond of him," she
added, scarcely knowing why. "Mother," she said, as they came up to the
Princess, "Lord Herbert Arden."
The Princess smiled and held out her hand. At that moment Pietro
Ghisleri came up. He had not been seen since he had left Laura and Arden
together. By a coincidence, doubtless, the Contessa dell' Armi had
disappeared at about the same time: she had probably gone home, as she
was not seen again in the ball-room that evening. But the world in its
omniscience knew that there was a certain boudoir beyond the
supper-room, where couples who did not care to dance were left in
comparative peace for a long time. The world could have told with
precision the position of the small sofa on which Ghisleri and the
lovely Contessa invariably spent an hour when they met in that
particular house.
"Will you give me a turn, Miss Carlyon?" asked Ghisleri, as Arden began
to talk with the Princess.
"Yes." Laura was really fond of a certain amount of dancing when a good
partner presented himself.
"What do you think of my friend?" inquired Pietro, as they moved away
together.
"I like him very much. He interests me."
"Then you ought to be grateful to me for bringing him to you."
"Do you expect gratitude in a ball-room?" Laura laughed a little, more
in pleasant anticipation of the waltz than at what she said.
"A little more than in the average asylum for the aged and infirm, which
most people call home," returned Ghisleri, carelessly.
"You have no home. How can you talk about it in that way?"
"For the sake of talking; shall we dance instead?"
A moment later they were in the thick of the crowd.
"There are too many people; please take me back," said Laura, after one
turn.
"Will you come and talk in the conservatory?" asked Ghisleri as they
reached the door.
"No; I would rather not."
"You were talking a long time with Arden. I saw you come out of the
drawing-room together. Why will you not sit five minutes with me?"
"Lord Herbert is different," said Laura, quietly. "He is an Englishman,
and I am English."
"Oh! is that the reason?"
He led her back and left her with her mother. Arden was still there.