Two letters were awaiting David Rossi in his rooms at home.
One was a circular from the President of the Chamber of Deputies
summoning Parliament for the day after to-morrow to elect officials and
reply to the speech of the King.
The other was from Roma, and the address was in a large, hurried hand.
David Rossi broke the seal with nervous fingers.
"MY DEAR FRIEND,--I know! I know! I know now what the obstacle is.
B. gave me the hint of it on one of the days of last week, when I
was so anxious to see you and you did not come. It is your
unflinching devotion to your mission and to your public duties.
You are one of those who think that when a man has dedicated his
life to work for the world, he should give up everything
else--father, mother, wife, child--and live like a priest, who puts
away home, and love, and kindred, that others may have them more
abundantly. I can understand that, and see a sort of nobility in
it too, especially in days when the career of a statesman is only
a path to vainglory of every kind. It is great, it is glorious, it
thrills me to think of it.
"But I am losing faith in my unknown sister that is to be, in
spite of all my pleading. You say she is beautiful--that's well
enough, but it comes by nature. You say she is sweet, and true,
and charming--and I am willing to take it all on trust. But when
you say she is noble-hearted I respectfully refuse to believe it.
If she were that, you would be sure that she would know that
friendship is the surest part of love, and to be the friend of a
great man is to be a help to him, and not an impediment.
"My gracious! What does she think you are? A _cavaliere servente_
to dance attendance on her ladyship day and night? Give me the
woman who wants her husband to be a man, with a man's work to do,
a man's burdens to bear, and a man's triumphs to win.
"Yet perhaps I am too hard on my unknown sister that is to be, or
ought to be, and it is only your own distrust that wrongs her. If
she is the daughter of one brave man and really loves another, she
knows her place and her duty. It is to be ready to follow her
husband wherever he must go, to share his fate whatever it may be,
and to live his life, because it is now her own.
"And since I am in the way of pleading for her again, let me tell
you how simple you are to suppose that because you have never
disclosed your secret she may never have guessed it. Goodness me!
To think that men who can make women love them to madness itself
can be so ignorant as not to know that a woman can always tell if
a man loves her, and even fix the very day, and hour, and minute
when he looked into her eyes and loved her first.
"And if my unknown sister that ought to be knows that you love
her, be sure that she loves you in return. Then trust her. Take
the counsel of a woman and go to her. Remember, that if you are
suffering by this separation, perhaps she is suffering too, and if
she is worthy of the love and friendship of a better man than you
are, or ever hope to be (which, without disparaging her ladyship,
I respectfully refuse to believe), let her at least have the
refusal of one or both of them.
"Good-night! I go to the Chamber of Deputies again the day after
to-morrow, being so immersed in public matters (and public men)
that I can think of nothing else at present. Happily my bust is
out of hand, and the caster (not B. this time) is hard at work on
it.
"You won't hear anything about the M---- doings, yet I assure you
they are a most serious matter. Unless I am much mistaken there is
an effort on foot to connect you with my father, which is surely
sufficiently alarming. M---- is returning to Rome, and I hear
rumours of an intention to bring pressure on some one _here_ in
the hope of leading to identification. Think of it, I beg, I
pray!--Your friend,
"R."