PLEASANT RECEPTIONS AT THE C---- PALACE.
As soon as they were seated in the carriage, Mrs. Chandos expressed
almost hysterically her delight in having got away safely, and was
rather surprised when Norah remarked that she was very glad that they
went to the ball, and explained to her mother that it would be always
easy to avoid the kind of annoyance she had been subjected to by the
Duke’s forwardness; and she pointed out the pleasure which her father
might derive from meeting some celebrated people in such an easy way as
they were likely to do at Prince C----’s.
She was right, for during the next month of their sojourn in Rome, they
saw a great deal of the best Roman society; for at Prince C----’s they
met some relations of my mother’s, of the Spinola and Donati families,
who, from scarcely mingling at all with the English, preserve the old
Italian manner and customs more in their original state.
Norah was much surprised at the great contrast between the men and the
ladies of these families, most of the gentlemen being well educated, and
many, particularly the princes and monsignori, celebrated for their
learning or genius; while the ladies, though very kind-hearted and
good-natured, seemed extraordinarily ignorant. In fact, two of the
lovely princesses could scarcely read or write, yet they did not seem to
be annoyed by this comparatively unintellectual state, and fully enjoyed
their _dolce far niente_.
Norah was particularly interested by a young cousin of my mother’s,
Bianca Countess Donati. She was a lovely Neapolitan, and had married at
sixteen a widower with a grown-up family. The marriage had been made up
before she left the convent, or had even seen her intended.
Bianca had been well trained, and in some degree well educated; and it
never occurred to her to make any objection, although she was somewhat
disappointed in the appearance of her betrothed.
The Count Donati was a clever man, but bad-tempered, and inclined to be
jealous; and his sons and daughters did not approve of his second
marriage. So the young wife had not led a very happy life, and her chief
comfort was derived from her own little child, a girl of five years old.
She fancied that her own ignorance prevented her husband from enjoying
her society as much as he seemed to do that of many of the English
ladies, at parties to which she with her step-daughters was not invited.
Count Donati was not rich enough to entertain at home, but as he liked
to go into general society, he compounded the matter by not taking his
wife out with him. Norah found that Bianca was most desirous to acquire
some knowledge, and very anxious to know how I, Constance Vivian,
contrived to get on amongst English ladies with the different education
she knew I had received in my youth at Sorrento.
Norah endeavoured to put her in the way of learning languages, and
assisted her in the choice of books, as she was much touched at her wish
to become more companionable to a husband who seemed so indifferent to
her charms.
For in a degree she had the same charm which Norah herself possessed,
and resembled her in her longing to attain a high standard of
perfection, and in the charitable feeling with which she regarded the
faults of others. Her husband was very intemperate in his language, and
poor Bianca was often pained to see the impression his bad words made on
her little girl.
Norah was amused and pleased one day when they were all walking on the
Pincio with Bianca and her child, and her own little sister, to discover
the original and touching expedient the Countess had thought of to
counteract the effect, and yet to excuse the bad language of her husband
in the mind of his little child.
Cattarina was walking with the children that day, and one of them did
something which excited her bad temper, whereupon she began abusing the
little fellow in bad language. Bianca’s little girl, overhearing the
words, called out,
“Ah, quelle son parole cattive, non si devono dirli.”
Cattarina turned upon her with flashing eyes, and reminded the child
that her own father often made use of such words.
“Ah, sì,” said the little thing, looking up at her with her large,
melancholy eyes. “Ah sì, ma queste son parole che lui solo[A] puo dire;
è padre mio, ed Iddio lo perdonera in lui, perche preghiamo sempre per
lui.”
Cattarina had the bad taste to burst into a loud laugh, and led two of
the children off to a distant part of the garden. Norah explained to the
wondering Countess that she was only their travelling maid, who had been
highly recommended, but she was evidently unfit to be their instructor
in Italian, although she had a very good accent.
They afterwards found that Cattarina was quite one of the modern
_liberali_, and had lost all faith in her own religion, and, acquiring
no other, had fallen into total disbelief, or rather into the
devil-worship expressed in some lines which have been praised in one of
the leading English reviews, composed by a modern Italian poet!