FACE TO FACE.
The time had now come when Count Nobili must finally make up his mind.
He had told Fra Pacifico that his determination was unaltered. He had
told him that his dignity as a man, his honor as a gentleman, demanded
that he should free himself from the net-work of intrigues in which
the marchesa had entangled him. Of all earthly things, compliancy with
her desires most revolted him. Rather than live any longer the victim
either of her malice or her ambition, he had brought himself to
believe that it was his duty to renounce Enrica. Until Fra Pacifico
had entered that room within which he was again pacing up and down
with hasty strides, no doubt whatever had arisen in his mind as to
what it was incumbent upon him to do: to give Enrica the protection
of his name by marriage, then to separate. Whether to separate in
the manner pointed out by Guglielmi he had not decided. An innate
repulsion, now increased by suspicion, made him distrust any act
pressed upon him by that man, especially when urged in concert with
the marchesa.
Every hour passed at Corellia was torture to him. Should he go at
once, or should he remain until the morning?--sign the deed?--complete
the sacrifice? Already what he had so loudly insisted on presented
itself now to him in the light of a sacrifice. Enrica loved him
still--he believed Fra Pacifico. The throbbing of his heart as he
thought of her told him that he returned that love. She was there near
him under the same roof. Could he leave her? Yes, he must leave her!
He would trust himself no longer in the hands of the marchesa or of
her agent. Instinct told him some subtle scheme lay under the urgings
of Guglielmi--the dangerous civilities of the marchesa. He would
go. The legal separation might be completed elsewhere. Why only at
Corellia? Why must those formalities insisted on by Guglielmi be
respected? What did they mean? Of the real drift of the delay Nobili
was utterly ignorant. Had he asked Fra Pacifico, he would have told
him the truth, but he had not done so.
To meet Enrica in the morning; to meet her again in the presence of
her detested aunt; to meet her only to sign a deed separating them
forever under the mockery of mutual consent, was agony. Why should he
endure it?
Nobili, wrought up to a pitch of excitement that almost robbed him of
reason, dares not trust himself to think. He seizes his hat, which lay
upon the table, and rushes out into the night. The murmur of voices
comes dimly to him in the freshness of the air out of a window next
his own. A circle of light shines on the glistening gravel before him.
There must be people within--people watching him, doubtless. As the
thought crosses his mind he is suddenly pinned to the earth. Argo is
watching for him--stealthy Argo--Argo springs upon him silently from
behind; he holds him tightly in his grip. The dog made no sound, nor
does he now, but he has laid Nobili flat on the ground. He stands over
him, his heavy paws planted upon his chest, his open jaws and dripping
tongue close upon his face, so close, that Nobili feels the dog's hot
breath upon his skin. Nobili cannot move; he looks up fixedly into
Argo's glaring, bloodshot eyes. His steady gaze daunts the dog. In the
very act of digging his big fangs into Nobili's throat Argo pauses;
he shrinks before those human eyes before which the brutish nature
quails. In an instant Nobili's strong hands close round his throat;
he presses it until the powerful paws slacken in their grip--until the
fiery eyes are starting from their sockets.
Silent as is the struggle the other dogs are alarmed--they give tongue
from different sides. Footsteps are rapidly approaching--the barrel of
a gun gleams out of the darkness--a shot is fired--the report wanders
off in endless reverberation among the rocks--another shot, and
another, in instant succession, answer each other from behind the
villa.
With a grasp of iron Nobili holds back gallant Argo--Argo foaming at
the mouth; his white-coated chest heaving, as if in his last agony!
Yet Argo is still immovable--his heavy paws upon Nobili's chest
pressing with all his weight upon him!
Now the footsteps have turned the corner! Dim forms already shape
themselves in the night mist. The other dogs, barking savagely, are
behind--they are coming--they are at hand! Ah! Nobili, what can you do
now?--Nobili understands his danger. Quick as thought Nobili has
dealt Argo a tremendous blow under the left ear. He seizes him by his
milk-white hair so long and beautiful, he flings him against the low
wall almost insensible. Argo falls a shapeless mass. He is stunned and
motionless. Before the shadow of Adamo is upon him--before the dogs
noses touch him--Nobili is on his feet. With one bound he has leaped
through the window--the same from which the voices had come (it has
been opened in the scuffle)--in an instant he closes the sash! He is
safe!
Coming suddenly out of the darkness, after the great force he had put
forth, Nobili feels giddy and bewildered. At first he sees nothing
but that there is a light in the centre of the room. As his eyes fix
themselves upon it the light almost blinds him. He puts his hand to
his forehead, where the veins had swollen out like cords upon his
fair skin. He puts up his hands to shade his dazzled eyes before
which clouds of stars dance desperately. He steadies himself and looks
round.
Before him stands Enrica!
By Pipa's care the bridegroom's chamber had been chosen next
the bride's when she prepared Count Nobili's room. Pipa was
straightforward and simple in her notions of matrimony, but, like a
wise woman, she had held her tongue.
Nobili and Enrica are alone. A furtive glance passes between them.
Neither of them moves. Neither of them speaks. The first movement
comes from Enrica. She sinks backward upon a chair. The tangle of her
yellow hair closes round her face upon which a deep blush had risen
at sight of Nobili. When that blush had died out she looked resigned,
almost passionless. She knew that the moment had come which must
decide her fate. Before they two parted she would hear from the lips
of the man she loved if they were ever to meet again! Her eyes fell
to the ground. She dared not raise them. If she looked at Nobili, she
must fling herself into his arms.
Nobili, standing on the same spot beyond the circle of the light,
gazes at Enrica in silence. He is overwhelmed by the most conflicting
emotions. But the spell of her beauty is upon him. His pulses beat
madly. For an instant he forgets where he is. He forgets all but
that Enrica is before him. For a moment! Then his brain clears. He
remembers every thing--remembers--oh, how bitterly!--that, after all
that has passed, his very presence in that room is an insult to her!
He feels he ought to go--yet an irresistible longing chains him to
the spot. He moves toward the door. To reach it he must pass close to
Enrica. When he is near the door he stops. The light shows that his
clothes are torn--that there is blood upon his face and hands. In
scarcely articulate words Nobili addresses her.
"Enrica--countess, I mean"--Nobili hesitates--"pardon this
intrusion.--You saw the accident.--I did not know that this was _your_
room."
Again Nobili pauses, waiting for an answer. None comes. Would she not
speak to him? Alas! had he deserved that she should? Nobili takes a
step or two toward the door. With one hand upon the lock he pauses
once more, gazing at Enrica with lingering eyes. Then he turns to
leave the room. It is all over!--he had only to depart! A low cry from
Enrica stops him.
"Nobili," Enrica says, "tell me--oh! tell me, are you hurt?"
Enrica has risen from the chair. One hand rests on the table for
support. Her voice falters as she asks the question. Nobili, every
drop of whose blood runs fevered in his veins, turns toward her.
"I am not hurt--a scratch or two--nothing."
"Thank God!" Enrica utters, in a low voice.
Nobili endeavors to approach her. She draws back.
"As I am here"--he speaks with the utmost embarrassment--"here, as you
see, by accident"--his voice rests on the words--"I cannot go--"
As Nobili speaks he perceives that Enrica gradually retreats farther
from him. The tender delight that had come into her eyes when he first
addressed her fades out into a scared look--a look like a defenseless
animal expecting to receive a death-wound. Nobili sees and understands
the expression.
His heart smites him sorely. Great God!--has he become an object of
terror to her?
"Enrica!"--she starts back as Nobili pronounces her name, yet he
speaks so softly the sound comes to her almost like a sigh--"Enrica,
do not fear me. I will say no word to offend you. I cannot go without
asking your pardon. As one who loved you once--as one who loves--"
He stops. What is he saying?--"I humbly beseech you to forgive me.
Enrica, let me hear you say that you forgive me."
Still Enrica retreats from him, that suffering, saint-like look upon
her face he knows so well. Nobili follows her. He kneels at her feet.
He kneels at the feet of the woman from whom, not an hour before, he
had demanded a separation!
"Say--can you forgive me before I go?"
As Nobili speaks, his strong heart goes out to her in speechless
longings. If Enrica had looked into his eyes they would have told her
that he never had loved her as now! And they were parted!
Enrica puts out her hand timidly. Her lips move as if to speak, but no
sound comes. Nobili rises; he takes her hand within both his own. He
kisses it reverently.
"Dear hand--" he murmurs, "and it was mine!"
Released from his, the dainty little hand falls to her side. She
sighs deeply. There is the old charm in Nobili's voice--so sweet, so
subtile. The tones fall upon her ear like strains of passionate music.
A storm of emotion sweeps across her face. She has forgotten all in
the rapture of his presence. Yes!--that voice! Had it not been raised
but a few hours before at the altar to repudiate her? How can she
believe in him? How surrender herself to the glamour of his words?
Remembering all this, despair comes over her. Again Enrica shrinks
from him. She bursts into tears and hides her face with her hands.
Enrica's distrust of him, her silence, her tears, cut Nobili to the
soul. He knows he deserves it. Ah!--with her there before him, how
he curses himself for ever having doubted her! Every justification
suddenly leaves him. He is utterly confounded. The gossip of the
club--Count Marescotti and his miserable verses--the marchesa
herself--what are they all beside the purity of those saint-like eyes?
Nera, too--false, fickle, sensual Nera--a mere thing of flesh and
blood--he had left her for Nera! Was he mad?
At that moment, of all living men, Count Nobili seemed to himself the
most unworthy! He must go--he did not deserve to stay!
"Enrica--before I leave you, speak to me one word of forgiveness--I
implore you!"
As he speaks their eyes meet. Yes, she is his own Enrica--unchanged,
unsullied!--the idol is intact within its shrine--the sanctuary is as
he had left it! No rude touch had soiled that atmosphere of purity and
freshness that floated like an aureole around her!
How could he leave her?--if they must part, he would hear his fate
from her own lips. Enrica is leaning against the wall speechless, her
face shaded by her hand. Big tears are trickling through her fingers.
Unable to support herself she clings to a chair, then seats herself.
And Nobili, pale with passion stands by, and dares not so much as to
touch her--dares not touch her, although she is his wife!
In the fury of his self-reproach, he digs his hands into the masses of
thick chestnut curls that lie disordered about his head.
Fool, idiot!--had he lost her? A terrible misgiving overcomes him? It
fills him with horror. Was it too late? Would she never forgive him?
Nobili's troubled eyes, that wander all over her, ask the question.
"Speak to me--speak to me!" he cries. "Curse me--but speak to me!"
At this appeal Enrica turns her tear-bedewed face toward him.
"Nobili," she says at last, very low, "would you have gone without
seeing me?"
Nobili dares not lie to her. He makes no reply.
"Oh, do not deceive me, Nobili!" and Enrica wrings her hands and looks
piteously into his face. "Tell me--would you have come to me?"
It is only by a strong effort that Nobili can restrain himself
from folding Enrica in his arms and in one burning kiss burying the
remembrance of the miserable past. But he trembles lest by offending
her the tender flower before him may never again expand to the ardor
of his love. If Fra Pacifico has not by his arguments already shaken
Nobili's conviction of the righteousness of his own conduct, the sight
of Enrica utterly overcomes him.
"Deceive you!" he exclaims, approaching her and seizing her hands
which she did not withdraw--"deceive you! How little you read my
heart!"
He holds her soft hands firmly in his--he covers them with kisses.
Enrica feels the tender pressure of his lips pass through her whole
frame. But, can she trust him?
"Did I not love you enough?" she asks, looking into his face. She
gently disengages her hands from his grasp. There is no reproach in
her look, but infinite sorrow. "Can I believe you?" And the soft blue
eyes rest upon him full of pathetic pleading.
An expression of despair comes into Nobili's bright face. How can
he answer her? How can he satisfy her when he himself has shaken her
trust? Alas! would the golden past never come again? The past, tinted
with the passion of ardent summer?
"Believe me?" he cries, in a tone of wildest passion. "Can you ask
me?"
As he speaks he leans over her. Love is in his voice--his eyes--his
whole attitude. Would she not understand him? Would she reject him?
Enrica draws back--she raises her hand in protest.
"Let me again"--Nobili is following her closely--"let me implore your
forgiveness of my unmanly conduct."
She presses her hands to her bosom as if in pain, but not a sound
comes to her lips.
"Believe me," he urges, "I have been driven mad by the marchesa! It is
my only excuse."
"Am I?" Enrica answers. "Have I not suffered enough from my aunt?
What had she to do between you and me? Did I love you less because
she hated you? Listen, Nobili"--Enrica with difficulty commands her
voice--"from the first time we met in the cathedral I gave myself to
you--you--you only."
"But, Enrica--love--you consented to leave me. You sent Fra Pacifico
to say so."
The thought that Enrica had so easily resigned him still rankled in
Nobili's heart. Spite of himself, there is bitterness in his tone.
Enrica is standing aloof from him. The light of the lamp strikes upon
her golden hair, her downcast eyes, her cheeks mantling with blushes.
"I leave you!"--a soft dew came into Enrica's eyes as she fixed them
upon Nobili--a dew that rapidly formed itself into two tears that
rolled silently down her cheek--"never--never!"
Spite of the horrors of the past, these words, that look, tell him
she is his! Nobili's heart leaps within him. For a moment he is
breathless--speechless in the tumult of his great joy.
"Oh! my beloved!" he cries, in a voice that penetrates her very soul.
"Come to me--here--to a heart all your own!" He springs forward and
clasps her in his arms. "Thus--thus let the past perish!" Nobili
whispers as his lips touch hers. Enrica's head nestles upon his
breast. She has once more found her home.
A subdued knock is heard at the door.
"Sangue di Dio!" mutters Nobili, disengaging himself from
Enrica--"what new torment is this? Is there no peace in this house?
Who is there?"
"It is I, Count Nobili." Maestro Guglielmi puts in his hatchet face
and glaring teeth. In an instant his piercing eyes have traveled round
the room. He has taken in the whole situation--Count Nobili in the
middle of the floor--flushed--agitated--furious at this interruption;
Enrica--revived--conscious--blushing at his side. The investigation
is so perfectly satisfactory that Maestro Guglielmi cannot suppress a
grin of delight.
"Believe me, Signore Conte," he says, advancing cautiously a step or
two forward into the room, a deprecating look on his face--"believe
me--this intrusion"--Guglielmi turns to Enrica, grins again palpably,
then bows--"is not of my seeking."
"Tell me instantly what brings you here?" demands Nobili, advancing.
(Nobili would have liked beyond measure to relieve his feelings by
kicking him.)
"It is just that"--Guglielmi cannot refrain from another glance round
before he proceeds--(yes, they are reconciled, no doubt of it.
The judgeship is his own! Evviva! The illustrious personage--so
notoriously careful of his subject's morals--who had deigned to
interest himself in the marriage, might possibly, at the birth of
a son and heir to the Guinigi, add a pension--who knows? At this
reflection the lawyer's eyes become altogether unmanageable)--"it is
just that," repeats Guglielmi, making a desperate effort to collect
himself. "Personally I should have declined it, personally; but the
marchesa's commands were absolute: 'You must go yourself, I will
permit no deputy.'"
"Damn the marchesa! Shall I never be rid of the marchesa?"
Nobili's aspect is becoming menacing. Maestro Guglielmi is not a man
easily daunted; yet once within the room, and the desired evidence
obtained, he cannot but feel all the awkwardness of his position.
Greatly as Guglielmi had been tickled at the notion of becoming
himself a witness in his own case, to do him justice he would not have
volunteered it.
"The marchesa sent me," he stammers, conscious of Count Nobili's
indignation (with his arms crossed, Count Nobili is eying Guglielmi
from head to foot). "The marchesa sent me to know--"
Nobili unfolds his arms, walks straight up to where Guglielmi is
standing, and shakes his fist in his face.
"Do you know, Signore Avvocato, that you are committing an intolerable
impertinence? If you do not instantly quit this room, or give me
some excellent reason for remaining, you shall very speedily have my
opinion of your conduct in a very decided manner."
Count Nobili is decidedly dangerous. He glares at Guglielmi like a
very devil. Guglielmi falls back. The false smile is upon his lips,
but his treacherous eyes express his terror. Guglielmi's combats are
only with words, his weapon the pen; otherwise he is powerless.
"Excuse me, Count Nobili, excuse me," he stammers. He rubs his hands
nervously together and watches Nobili, who is following him step by
step. "It is not my fault--I give you my word--not my fault. Don't
look so, count; you really alarm me. I am here as a man of peace--I
entreated the marchesa to retire to rest. I represented to her the
peculiar delicacy of the position, but I grieve to say she insisted."
Nobili is now close to him; his eyes are gathered upon him more
threateningly than ever.
"Remember, sir, you are addressing me in the presence of my wife--be
careful."
What a withering look Nobili gives Guglielmi as he says this! He can
with difficulty keep his hands off him!
"Yes--yes--just so--just so--I applaud your sentiments, Count
Nobili--most appropriate. Now I will go."
Alarmed as he is, Guglielmi cannot resist one parting glance at
Enrica. She is crimson. Then with an expression of infinite relief
he retreats to the door walking backward. Guglielmi has a strong
conviction that if he turns round Count Nobili may kick him, so,
keeping his eyes well balanced upon him, he fumbles with his hands
behind his back to find the handle of the door. In his confusion he
misses it.
"Not for worlds, Signore Conte," says Guglielmi, nervously passing
his hand up and down the panel in search of the door-handle--"not for
worlds would I offend you! Believe me--(maledictions on the door--it
is bewitched!)"
Now Guglielmi has it! Safely clutching the handle with both his hands,
Guglielmi's courage returns. His mocking eyes look up without blinking
into Nobili's, fierce and flashing as they are.
"Before I go"--he bows with affected humility--"will you favor me,
count, and you, madame" (Guglielmi is clutching the door-handle
tightly, so as to be able to escape at any moment), "by informing me
whether you still desire the deed of separation to be prepared for
your signature in the morning?"
"Leave the room!" roars Count Nobili, stamping furiously on the
floor--"leave the room, or, Domine Dio!--"
Maestro Guglielmi had jumped out backward, before Count Nobili could
finish the sentence.
"Enrica!" cries Nobili, turning toward her--he had banged-to the door
and locked it--"Enrica, if you love me, let us leave this accursed
villa to-night! This is more than I can bear!"
What Enrica replied, or if Enrica ever replied at all, is, and ever
will remain, a mystery!