LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

silent. No one remembered to light the lamps.

      Regina felt a weight of sadness upon her soul. What was it? The gloom, the oppression of twilight in this remote and unknown place to which destiny had carried her, or was it the mere reflection of Antonio's unwonted seriousness? She walked to the window, and again looked for the little old woman with the black raiment; lamps white and yellow pierced the cloudy twilight; the pavement glistened; an infinite sadness, a mystery of fearful shadow fell blacker and blacker from the heavens.

      The bell rang. In rushed the servant and lighted the gas, barely in time for the great lady's entrance.

      With eyes dazzled by this suddenly kindled light, Regina first saw the Princess, and was at once disillusioned. The tall, stout, flat-chested form, the felt hat, fastened by an elastic under the black chignon stuck at the nape of the neck—suggested something masculine. Thick, colourless lips, a small nose slightly awry, small metallic eyes of yellowish-green, marked the pale heavy face. The whole made up a figure which, once seen, was not likely to be forgotten.

      "Bon soir," she said, in a soft, harmonious voice, oddly in contrast with her stout and malformed person. She talked on in French while Arduina hurried to relieve her of her hat and handbag. "I am pleased to see you back, Monsieur Venutelli. I received your letter. This is your bride? She is charming!"

      Antonio bowed, and Regina looked at her with wondering eyes, saying shyly—

      "You are very kind, Signora."

      "Beg pardon?" said Madame, turning her left ear to Regina, who nearly laughed, remembering Antonio's mimicry of the deaf Princess.

      But Signora Makuline had taken her hand, and was slipping a sapphire ring on one of its fingers, saying—

      "You will allow me? With a thousand good wishes!"

      "Oh, thank you! You are really too good!" cried Regina, delighted, and Antonio also looked at the ring and expressed thanks. Then they all sat down; the Princess removed her dirty white gloves, and, to Regina's surprise, displayed hands small as a child's, and covered with flashing rings.

      "What shocking weather," said Madame, her small feline eyes not looking at any one. "I've been many years in Rome, but never remember an autumn like this. It's not manners to talk of the weather; but when it becomes a matter of health, the weather has certainly more influence over us than even the most important events of our lives!"

      "Monsieur Antonio, this abominable storm will spoil your honeymoon," said Arduina, trying to joke; but Regina, rather offended, muttered some words of protest.

      "Beg pardon?" said the Princess.

      "Arduina is right," said Antonio; "my wife is, in point of fact, in the very worst of humours."

      "N'est ce pas? In the worst possible humour!"

      "It's not true!" protested Regina, "quite the contrary; I am extremely cheerful."

      However, Madame was tiresome enough to observe that during dinner Regina spoke very little.

      "I like to be silent! I like listening," explained the bride, rather shortly.

      "Well," said the Princess, "there's a certain cachet about a young woman who doesn't talk. A woman's silence suggests something mysterious, something occult; even something charming. Georges Sand spoke little. One of my uncles was her intimate friend, and he told me Georges was designedly silent."

      "Perhaps you yourself knew Georges Sand?" said Massimo ungallantly.

      "No," replied Madame, unmoved.

      "Her mother, perhaps?" murmured Antonio.

      "Beg pardon?"

      "I've been reading an article on Georges Sand's mother," said Antonio louder. "Most interesting! She was a woman of fiery genius, and of fiery heart, too, whose adventures no doubt influenced her daughter's imagination."

      "Where did you see that article?" cried Arduina; "we'll reproduce it!"

      Sor Mario, bending low over his plate, shook his head, and emitted a perhaps unintentional grunt.

      Tedious talk followed of the adventures and romances of Georges Sand. Arduina declared that the novels were uninteresting. She liked modern books, and Quo Vadis? above all others.

      "Dio Mio!" said Antonio, "do stop about Quo Vadis? And really, you know, it's not precisely modern!"

      Regina listened and held her peace. The talk was entirely of books, theatres, authors. The Princess told some story of Tolstoy, whom she knew personally. Towards the close of the repast, violent discussion arose between Massimo and Arduina about a great contemporary Italian poet and novelist—not only about his works, but about his private life. Arduina spoke against the master, hatred darting from her eyes, venom from her lips. She reproached him even for having grown old, bald, and ugly before his time. Massimo, red with fury, withered his sister-in-law with looks of supreme contempt.

      "Worms!" he cried, forgetting he sat at her table. "See what you writers are! Merely to blacken the greatest and purest glory of Italy you stoop to absolute nonsense, and don't even know what it is you are saying!"

      "Peace! peace!" laughed Antonio.

      But now a most extraordinary thing happened. Sor Mario spoke. He had not read one line of the poet's, nor had any scandal to tell of him, but he related:—

      "I saw him once at Anzio; he was riding along the shore got up entirely in white; white coat, white hat, white gloves, on a white horse——"

      "White gloves on a horse?" queried Massimo, laughing foolishly.

      Regina asked the Princess her opinion of the author in question, and the lady replied—

      "To tell the truth, I'm not one of his blind admirers; but his prose is certainly lovely—bewitching, like music——"

      "True," said Antonio; "but one very quickly forgets what he says."

      "That's just my impression," said Regina; "it's music without any echo."

      Massimo shook his head; his long hair stood on end like that of an infuriated baby.

      "People were coming down to bathe," continued Sor Mario, "and they stared at him and laughed. Some were in hopes the poet would tumble off his white horse——"

      About nine, while Arduina was pouring out coffee, the Princess's lady companion arrived; a queer-looking little creature with dark, malignant countenance, a long, pointed chin, and minute, glittering eyes. Small, shrivelled, dressed in grey, this curious person seemed half-animal to Regina, a kind of human rodent. And, really, no sooner had she entered than the room was pervaded and animated by what seemed the scratching and running about of a rat; little cries and exclamations; hand-claspings and kisses which suggested bites, questions, remarks, and, above all, looks which seemed to Regina inquisitive, anxious, mocking, and impudent.

      "Take a cup of coffee if you care for it, Marianna," said Arduina, while the companion felt the Princess's forehead with both her hands.

      "Why, your head's burning!" she said; "have you been eating a great deal? What have you eaten? Whatever have you made her eat?" she went on, turning to Arduina. "Oh, yes, I'll have some coffee, though I know very well it won't be good! What wretched cups! They're as small as I am!"

      Antonio had hinted to his wife that Marianna was commonly supposed to be the Princess's daughter; and Regina, watching her, thought—

      "It's clearly the case of the mountain and the mouse."

      Apparently, Marianna read her thought, for she turned her little head with the alertness of a mouse, surprised by some slight sound; then came and sat beside the bride, balancing her cup on the palm of her hand, and saying maliciously—

      "That husband of yours is a villain; keep your eye on him if you don't want him in every sort of mischief."

      "I think you're the villain this time," said Antonio; "what are you insinuating suspicions into my wife for?"

Скачать книгу