Riven Bonds Volume Ii Part 6

"Impossible!" repeated Beatrice, still quite without her self-possession. "_This_ apparition his wife! I saw her formerly, of course, although only for a few minutes. Was I then blind?"

"Or was he so?" completed Gianelli to himself; but he said aloud, "I am inconsolable to have excited you so, Signora; you will give me credit for not wishing to speak, but you regularly forced this information from me. I regret this exceedingly."

His words restored Beatrice somewhat to consciousness. She felt what she had to expect from the pity of the man who had played the spy on her behalf.

"Certainly not!" replied she in a hasty but vain attempt to recover her self-control. "I--I thank you, Signor. I am merely surprised, nothing more."

The maestro saw that he could not do better than retire, but as he prepared to leave, he laid his hand a.s.suringly upon his heart--

"You know, Signora, that I am quite at your commands, and if you deem it necessary to insist upon my unconditional silence in this affair, no a.s.surance is needed that this also is at your service. Quite at your commands."

He left the room with a low bow; he was in earnest with the last words.

Gianelli was too good a reckoner not to consider as a valuable secret, something which sooner or later might be employed against the hated Rinaldo. If he were to make the piquant story public in society, nothing more could be done with it; in his sole possession, on the contrary, it might be very useful. At present it ensured him influence over Beatrice, and, indirectly, even over Rinaldo, to whom it could, at the very least, not be agreeable that his family affairs should become generally known.

In the best of humours the maestro pa.s.sed through the saloon, and entered the antechamber, where at that moment the sailor Jonas was alone. Captain Almbach had sent him to his brother with some message; he supposed the latter to be with Signora Biancona. Reinhold, however, was at the manager's, but was expected every moment. Jonas learned this from some servant who had gone into Beatrice's service from that of the same manager who had taken the Italian Opera Company to Germany, and as a trophy of his northern journey was able to maltreat a few words of German. As the sailor had received orders to give his master's note to the latter's brother himself, nothing else remained for him than to wait; he therefore took up his position in the ante-room, through which Reinhold was sure to pa.s.s. He had certainly remarked that the door of one of the back rooms stood open, and that some one was in there, apparently one of the Signora's lady's maids, who was occupied with a dress of her mistress. However, as this somebody was a woman, she naturally did not exist for Jonas, who, dissatisfied and silent as usual, withdrew into one of the window recesses, and remained there above a quarter of an hour without taking the slightest notice of his neighbour.

Signor Gianelli, as regards women, seemed to entertain the most opposite views; he had barely discovered the open door and the young girl, before he immediately altered his course, and steered in that direction. Jonas naturally did not understand any of the conversation, conducted in Italian, which now took place between the two, but so much was clear to him, that the maestro endeavoured to play the agreeable, apparently without particular success, as he only received short, and rather defiant-sounding replies, and at the same time the heavy silken folds were so adroitly draped that he could not come nearer without crumpling the light satin. This lasted a few minutes, then Signor Gianelli appeared to try and make some serious attempt, as a cry of annoyance was heard, followed by the angry stamping of a little foot.

The dress flew aside, and the young girl fled into the ante-room, where she stood still with arms folded defiantly and eyes sparkling with rage. But the maestro had followed her, and without being intimidated in the least by the opposition, gave signs of trying to enforce the kiss which evidently had been refused him before, when he stumbled upon a most unexpected obstacle. A powerful hand caught him suddenly by the collar, and a strange voice said impressively--

"That is to be left alone."

At the first moment the Italian appeared staggered at this interruption from a stranger whom he had not perceived at all; but on looking more closely at the latter, and discovering that he had only a common sailor to deal with, he drew himself up with great self-importance and evinced great annoyance. He immediately reversed the order of affairs, and pretended to be the one insulted. How could any one dare to attack a man in his position, especially in Signora Biancona's apartments; he should lay a complaint to the Signora; what sort of a person was it who took such a liberty? and thereupon a flood of not exactly flattering names swept over poor Jonas.

The latter endured the insults heaped upon him with immovable placidity, as he did not understand even one word of them; but when the Italian, deceived by this quiescence, took it into his head to make a threatening gesticulation with his stick, there was an end of the sailor's calm, as he understood this pantomime very well. With a sudden movement he had caught the stick from the maestro, the next moment had seized him and regularly thrust him out of the room, thrown his stick after him, and locked the door, all without speaking a single word, and returned quietly to his window recess as if nothing had happened. But here the young girl came at once towards him, stretching out both hands to him, with southern vivacity and overflowing with grat.i.tude.

"It is not necessary! Was done willingly," said Jonas, dryly, but as he put out his arm as if to refuse her thanks, a little hand was placed upon it, and a clear voice said something in the softest tones, which was undoubtedly intended to express her acknowledgments.

Jonas looked most indignantly, first at his arm, then at the hand, which still lay upon it, and after having gazed at both for some time, he condescended at last to cast a glance also at the person to whom the hand belonged.

Before him stood a young girl of at most sixteen years, so lythe, so intensely slight and graceful a figure, that she presented the greatest contrast imaginable to the broad form of the sailor. A wreath of splendid blue-black plaits surrounded the little face, which, with its dark brown complexion and burning black eyes, certainly sprang from the South of Italy. The little one was pretty, without doubt very pretty, that could not be denied, and the liveliness with which she endeavoured to show her protector how very grateful she was rendered her still more charming.

"Yes, if I only understood the cursed language!" muttered Jonas, in whom, for the first time, something like regret arose that he had thrown away, with such obstinate determination, the rare opportunity offered him during the summer of learning Italian. He shook his head, shrugged his shoulders, and in this way made pantomimic signs that he did not understand Italian, which the young girl seemed to think quite unheard of and also very disagreeable.

"I was to find Mr. Reinhold," growled Jonas, who, strange to say, seemed to long to impart some information, which was not usually his case with women. He made the discovery, however, that even this name was not understood, as now it became his companion's turn to shake her head and shrug her shoulders.

"Yes, indeed," said the sailor angrily, "he could not even retain his honest German name! Rinaldo he lets himself be called here--G.o.d have pity on him! Robbers and rogues are called by such names with us at home. Signor Rinaldo," exclaimed he, as he drew out his master's note, which bore the same name. This address was of course well enough known in Signora Biancona's house; any farther understanding was now, however, unnecessary, as just at the moment when the two were bending their heads eagerly over the letter, the door of the ante-room was opened and Reinhold himself entered.

The young girl remarked him first. In one moment she was away from the sailor's side and in the middle of the room, where she made a graceful curtsy and then disappeared in the direction of the saloon, probably to announce the long-expected one to her mistress; while Jonas, who could not conceive how any person could fly away thus lightly and rapidly, and disappear tracelessly in a few seconds, stared after her so steadily that Reinhold was obliged to go up to him and ask what brought him there. Ashamed, and somewhat confused, he delivered his errand and gave up the note, which Almbach opened and read rapidly. The contents seemed to be very indifferent to him--

"Tell my brother I am engaged already for to-day, and therefore beg him to accept the Marchese's invitation merely for himself. If possible at all, I shall appear towards evening."

He put the note in his pocket, dismissed the messenger by a gesture, and pa.s.sed into the saloon. Jonas now had his orders and ought to have returned home; instead, however, he sought the servant who had given him the required information before, and the latter made the discovery that the inaccessible sailor, so chary of words, had all at once become very inquisitive, as he enquired very particularly about Signora Biancona's household and its _personnel_, and tolerated the Italian's horrible German--who was so proud of his knowledge of the language--with exemplary patience.

Reinhold, meanwhile, had entered the boudoir. He no longer required any announcement to its mistress, and she came towards him at once; but had he not been so entirely absorbed in other thoughts he must have seen at the first glance that something had happened to her. The Italian's dark warm colouring could appear pale at times; this was evident now, when the glowing blood which usually throbbed in her cheeks had disappeared to the very last drop; but it was an unnatural pallor, and her eyes burned all the more scorchingly. Beatrice was actress enough to be able, for a few moments at least, to control her temper when it was required to gain some object, and she wished to obtain one to-day. A trait of dark determination lay in her face; she wished to see clearly at any price.

"I met Gianelli below in the street," began Reinhold, after the first greeting. "He appeared to come from your house; was he with you?"

"Certainly! I know you are prejudiced against him, but I cannot possibly decline to see the conductor of the opera, when he comes on purpose to discuss something as to its performance with me."

Reinhold shrugged his shoulders. "That could be done at the rehearsals.

Are you a young beginner, who requires protection, and must fear offending any one? I should have thought that you, in your position, could behave with as little consideration as I do. However, I will give you no directions about it. Receive whom you will, even Gianelli! I am far from wishing to place any control upon you."

The tone sounded icy, and Beatrice's voice trembled slightly as she replied, "That is new to me. You used to watch over my visitors most despotically; formerly no one could cross my threshold who was not agreeable to you."

Reinhold had thrown himself into a seat. "You see I have become more tolerant."

"More tolerant!--more indifferent."

"You have often enough complained of my despotism," remarked he, with a slight tinge of sarcasm.

"And yet I bore it because I knew it sprang from love. It is only natural that with the one the other should also cease."

Reinhold made an impatient movement. "Beatrice you demand what is impossible, when you require that a human heart should ever and for ever glow with those volcanic feelings which alone you call love."

She had approached his seat, and placed her hand on its back, while she looked down at him with a strange expression.

"I see certainly that it is impossible to require from the cold heart of a Northerner such love as I give and demand."

"You should have left him in his north," said Reinhold, gloomily; "perhaps the cold there would have been better for him than the everlasting glow of the south."

"Is that intended for a reproach? Was it I who tore you from your home?"

"No! I went voluntarily, but--be just, Beatrice!--you were the moving power. Who urged me constantly to the resolution? Who held my artist's course again and again before my eyes? Who dubbed me a coward as I started back at the responsibility, and at last placed the fatal choice before me of flight or our separation? Excuse me--you knew how the decision must fall."

The Italian's dark eyes flashed threateningly, but she forced herself to be calm.

"Our love depended on it," declared she, proudly; "our love depended on it, and your artist's career. I rescued a genius for the world when I rescued you for myself."

He was silent. The defence appeared to find no echo in his heart. She bent lower to him, and her voice sounded sweet and fascinating again, but the unnatural expression did not leave her features.

"You are dreaming, Rinaldo. This is one of your moods again, which I have so often had to fight against. Is it the first time then, that an unhappy, unsuitable marriage has been dissolved in order to form a happier union?"

Reinhold leaned his head on his hand. "No, certainly not; but that does not affect this case; my marriage has not been dissolved, and we--have never thought of marriage."

Beatrice started, and her hand slid from the back of the chair.

"You were not free?" she murmured.

"It would only have cost me one word to be so. I knew I should not be prevented, and means enough were open to you to obtain dispensation, which would have permitted a Catholic to make this marriage. But we both dreaded the indissoluble bond; we wished to be free and unfettered, without limits in our love as in our life--well, we are so still at this moment."

"What do you mean by this?" Beatrice pressed her hand upon her heart as if breathless. "Do you still consider your marriage to exist?"

"Oh, no, certainly not; and if I did, the daring of such an idea would soon be made plain to me. You do not know what an offended wife and mother is in the pride of her virtue. If the sinner were to devote his whole remaining life to penance and repentance, he would still not be restored to favour."

The words were intended to sound scoffingly; he did not suspect the boundless bitterness they betrayed as he hurled them forth; but Beatrice understood it only too well, and with this recognition, her self-control, so far preserved with such difficulty, broke down irretrievably.

"You have, perhaps, tried it already with the offended wife," cried she furiously. "She is in your neighbourhood; I myself was witness of your meeting. That is why your eyes encountered each other in so mysterious a manner; that is why you could not tear your gaze away from the child; that is why she drew back from me, as if from something unholy. Have you attempted the penitent scene already, Rinaldo?"