Riven Bonds Volume I Part 13

The Captain looked steadily and with a peculiar smile at the excited Italian.

"It is a pity that such talent should have so dark a side! But after all, it is not so much talent as fashion, whim of the public, unmerited success; do not you think so?"

Gianelli would probably have agreed with all his heart, but the other gentlemen's presence put some restraint upon him.

"The public generally decides in such cases," he replied, prudently, "and here it is extravagant in its favours. For my part, I maintain, without wishing in the least to detract from Rinaldo's fame, that he might compose the most meritless work and they would extol it to the skies, because it came from him."

"Very probably," agreed the stranger. "And possibly this new opera is meritless. I am certainly of your opinion, and shall a.s.suredly--"

"I advise you, Signor to withhold your opinion until you have become acquainted with Rinaldo's works," interrupted the Marchese, sharply.

"He has certainly made the unpardonable mistake of attaining the summit of fame in one unbroken course of triumph, and of acquiring greatness to which no other can reach so easily. This cannot be forgiven him in certain circles, and he must do penance for it on every occasion.

Follow my advice."

The Captain bowed slightly. "With pleasure, and all the more as it is my brother whom you have defended so eloquently, Marchese."

This explanation, made with a most pleasant smile, naturally created a great sensation in the group. Marchese Tortoni took a step backwards in astonishment, and examined the speaker from head to foot. The maestro became pale and bit his lips, while the officer with difficulty refrained from laughing. The Englishman this time understood enough of the conversation to comprehend the trick which had been played, and which seemed to arouse his entire satisfaction. He smiled with an expression of extreme contentment, and with long strides crossed over immediately to the Captain, at whose side he placed himself silently, thus giving him an unmistakable sign of approval.

"The musical name of my brother appears only to be known to these gentlemen," continued Hugo unabashed, "mine doubtless sounded too foreign to you in the general introduction. We have, indeed, no reason to deny our relationship."

"Ah, Signor Capitano, I had heard already of your intended arrival,"

cried the Marchese, offering his hand with evident heartiness, "but it was not fair to cheat us with an _incognito_. To one, at least, it has caused bitter confusion, although he richly deserved the lesson."

Hugo looked round at once for the maestro, who had preferred to retire unnoticed. "I wished to reconnoitre the ground a little," retorted he, laughing, "and that was only possible so long as my _incognito_ lasted.

But it would soon have reached its termination, as I expect Reinhold every moment; he was detained in the town, while I drove on in advance.

Ah, he is there already."

He really appeared at that moment on the terrace, and the maestro would have had fresh opportunity to give vent to his anger at the "adoration, which became ridiculous," as the sudden cessation of all conversation, the interest with which all eyes were directed to one point, the movement which spread through all the company, was only due to Reinhold's entrance.

Reinhold himself had become quite different in these years--quite different. The young genius who had once fought so impatiently against the confining limits and prejudices of his surroundings, had raised himself to be a renowned composer, whose name extended beyond the boundaries of Italy and his home, whose works were familiar on the stages of all capitals; to whom fame and honour, money and triumph, flowed in richest abundance. The same mighty change had also been carried out in his exterior, and this alteration was not at all disadvantageous, as instead of the pale, serious youth, there now stood a man in whom it was evident that he was at home with life and the world, and only in the man did the always peculiarly attractive style of his beauty manifest itself entirely. The proud self-consciousness which now rested upon his _spirituel_ brow, and showed itself in all his features and his whole bearing, became them well, but there lay also a heavy shadow on this brow and on those features which happiness had surely never placed there. His mouth curved with harsh mockery, with contemptuous bitterness, and the former spark slumbered no more in the depths of his eyes; now a flame shone there, burning, destroying, flashing almost demonlike at every emotion. Whatever this face might have gained outwardly, _peace_ spoke no more from within.

He conducted Signora Biancona on his arm, no longer the youthful _prima donna_ of a second-rate Italian opera company, which gave wandering performances in the north, but a star of European renown, who, after having gathered laurels and triumphs in all important places, now occupied the first position at the theatre of her native town. Marchese Tortoni was right; she was dazzlingly beautiful, this woman; there was the old burning glance, which once understood how to set on fire the honourable patrician blood of the n.o.ble Hanseatic town, only now it appeared to have become more glowing, more scorching; there was still the countenance, with its witch-like entrancing magic, the figure with its n.o.ble plastic limbs, only everything seemed fuller, more voluptuous. The flower had developed to the ripest, almost over-ripe splendour; she still bloomed, her beauty was still at its zenith, if even one could not but acknowledge that perhaps in the course of the next few years the limits would be already pa.s.sed beyond which she would be tending irrecoverably to her descent.

Both, especially Reinhold, were seized upon the moment they arrived.

All crowded around him; all sought his vicinity, his conversation. In a few moments he had become the centre of the a.s.semblage, and some time elapsed before he could withdraw from all the attentions and flatteries in order to look round for his brother, who had stood somewhat aloof.

"There you are at last, Hugo," said he, approaching, "I missed you already. You make one seek you?"

"It was not possible to break through that triple circle of admirers, which surrounds you like a Chinese wall; I have not attempted such a piece of daring, but indulged in contemplating what happiness it is to possess a celebrated brother."

"Yes, this everlasting crush is really oppressive," said Reinhold, with an expression which showed not contented triumph, but, on the contrary, unmistakable weariness; "however come now, I will introduce you to Beatrice."

"Beatrice?--Ah, Signora Vampire! _must_ I, Reinhold?"

His brother's look became overcast. "Certainly you must. You cannot avoid seeing her in my company, much and often. She is beautiful, and with reason wonders it has not already been done. What is it, Hugo? You appear wishful to evade this introduction altogether, and yet you do not know Beatrice even."

"I do, though," replied the Captain shortly. "I have seen her already at a concert on the stage at H----."

"But never spoken to her. It is odd one must almost compel you to do what any other would look upon as a privilege! Usually you are the first, when acquaintance with a beautiful woman is in question."

Hugo replied nothing, but followed without farther protest. Signora Biancona, as was her custom, was surrounded by a circle of gentlemen, and engaged in most lively conversation, which she, however, broke off immediately the two appeared. Reinhold presented his brother to her.

Beatrice turned to the latter with all her fascinations.

"Do you know, Captain, I have been angry with you already, without knowing you?" she began. "Reinhold was beside himself when he received the news of your arrival. He left me in M---- in the most ungallant manner, in order to hasten towards you. I had to undertake my return journey alone."

Hugo bowed politely, but more distantly than was his wont to a lady, nor did he appear to notice that Beatrice's beautiful hand was extended confidently to Rinaldo's brother, at least he utterly resisted the temptation of kissing it, which was certainly expected.

"I am very unhappy, Signora, at having roused your ill-will. But one who disposes so exclusively of Reinhold's presence and company, should possess liberality enough to forego it a short time in favour of his brother."

He looked round for Reinhold, but the latter was already engaged.

"I resign myself," said Beatrice, still with charming friendliness, "or rather I must still resign myself, as, since you came, I have seen little enough of Rinaldo. There will remain no other remedy than to beg you to accompany him when he comes to see me."

Hugo made a somewhat measured gesture of thanks--

"You are very kind, Signora. I shall seize with pleasure the opportunity of becoming better acquainted with my brother's admired--Muse."

Signora Biancona, smiled--

"Has he called me so to you? To be sure the name is not strange in our circle of friends. Rinaldo gave it me once, when I led his first steps to the path of art. A somewhat romantic designation, especially according to German views, is it not, Signor? You hardly have such in your north?"

"Sometimes," said the Captain quietly, "only with a slight difference.

With us, muses are ideal, floating in unattainable heights. Here they are--beautiful women. An undeniable advantage for the artist!"

The words sounded like a compliment, and adhered steadily to the playful tone which Beatrice herself had commenced; nevertheless she cast a quick searching glance at the speaker's face--perhaps she saw the sparkling scorn in it--as she answered sharply--

"For my part, I confess to have no sympathy with the north. Simply because compelled, did I pa.s.s some short time there, and could only breathe again when Italy's sky rose above me. We southerners cannot succeed in submitting to the icy, pedantic rules which confine society there, to the fetters which they would wish even to impose upon artists."

Hugo leant with perfect indifference against the marble bal.u.s.trade.

"Good G.o.d, that is of no importance. They are easily broken, and then one is free as the birds in the air. Reinhold proved that sufficiently, and now he has foresworn home and pedantic rules for ever, which is entirely due to you, Signora."

Beatrice used her fan violently, although at this moment the evening breeze blew refreshingly cool.

"How do you mean, Signor?" asked she, quickly.

"I? Oh, I mean nothing, excepting, perhaps, that it must be an elevating sensation to have thus the entire fate of a man--or even a family--in one's hands; in tearing him away from his 'fetters,' one must feel in such a case something like an earthly providence. Is it not so, Signora?"

Beatrice had started slightly at these words, whether from astonishment or anger was not easy to decide. Her eyes met his; but this time they measured one another, as two antagonists do. The Italian's glance flashed; but the Captain bore it so firmly and quietly, that she felt it was not such an easy game opposite those clear brown eyes, which dared fearlessly to break a lance with her.

"I believe Rinaldo has every cause to be grateful to this providence,"

replied she, proudly. "Perhaps he would have sunk amid circ.u.mstances and surroundings which were unworthy of him, if it had not aroused his genius and shown him the path to greatness."

"Perhaps," said Hugo, coolly. "But people maintain that real genius never does sink, and the more difficulties it has to penetrate the more do they strengthen its power; however, that, of course, is also one of the northern pedantic views. The result has decided in favour of your view, Signora, and success is a G.o.d to which all bow."

He inclined his head and retired. He had said all this in the lightest conversational tone, apparently quite unmeaningly, but Signora Biancona must surely have felt the bitterness which lay in the Captain's words, for she pressed her lips together in most intense internal irritation, and her fan was moved almost furiously.