The Italians Part 31

"Must be done! Must be done! I would rather die! Mark my words, Cesare. No good will come of this marriage. That young man is weak and dissolute. He is mad with wealth, and the vulgar influence that comes with wealth. As a man, he is unworthy of my niece, who, I must confess, has the temper of an angel."

"I believe that you are wrong, marchesa; Count n.o.bili is much beloved in Lucca. Fra Pacifico has known him from boyhood. He praises him greatly. I also like him."

"Like him!--Yes, Cesare, you are such an easy fool you like every one.

First Marescotti, then n.o.bili. Marescotti was a gentleman, but this fellow--" She left the sentence incomplete. "Remember my words--you are deceived in him."

"At all events," retorted the cavaliere, "it is too late to discuss these matters now. Time presses. Enrica loves him. He insists on marrying her. You have no money, and cannot give her a portion. My respected marchesa, I have often ventured to represent to you what those lawsuits would entail! Per Bacco! There must be an end of all things--may I call them in?"

The poor old chamberlain was completely exhausted. He had spent four hours in reasoning with his friend. The marchesa turned her head away and shuddered; she could not bring herself to speak the word of bidding. The cavaliere accepted this silence for consent. He struggled out of the ponderous arm-chair, and went out into the garden. There (leaning over the bal.u.s.trade of the lowest terrace, under the willful branches of a big nonia-tree, weighted with fronds of scarlet trumpet-flowers, that hung out lazily from the wall, to which the stem was nailed) Cavaliere Trenta found Count n.o.bili and Fra Pacifico awaiting the marchesa's summons. Behind them, at a respectful distance, stood Ser Giacomo, the notary from Corellia. Streamlets pure as crystal ran bubbling down beside them in marble runnels; statues of G.o.ds and G.o.ddesses balanced each other, on pedestals, at the angles where the steps turned. In front, on the gravel, a pair of peac.o.c.ks strutted, spreading their gaudy tails in the sunshine.

As the four men entered the sala, they seemed to bring the evening shadows with them. These suddenly slanted across the floor like pointed arrows, darkening the places where the sun had shone. Was it fancy, or did the sparkling fountain at the door, as it fell backward into the marble basin, murmur with a sound like human sighs?

Count n.o.bili walked first. He was grave and pale. Having made a formal obeisance to the marchesa, his quick eye traveled round in search of Enrica. Not finding her, it settled again upon her aunt. As n.o.bili entered, she raised her smooth, snake-like head, and met his gaze in silence. She had scarcely bowed, in recognition of his salute. Now, with the slightest possible inclination of her head, she signed to him to take his place on one of the chairs before her.

Fra Pacifico, his full, broad face perfectly unmoved, and Cavaliere Trenta, who watched the scene nervously with troubled, twinkling eyes, placed themselves on either side of Count n.o.bili. Ser Giacomo had already slipped round behind the sofa, and seated himself at a table placed against the wall, the marriage-contract spread out before him. There was an awkward pause. Then Count n.o.bili rose, and, in that sweet-toned voice which had fallen like a charm on many a woman's ear, addressed the marchesa.

"Marchesa Guinigi, hereditary Governess of Lucca, and Countess of the Garf.a.gnana, I am come to ask in marriage the hand of your niece, Enrica Guinigi. I desire no portion with her. The lady herself is a portion more than enough for me."

As n.o.bili ceased speaking, the ruddy color shot across his brow and cheeks, and his eyes glistened. His generous nature spoke in those few words.

"Count n.o.bili," replied the marchesa, carefully avoiding his eye, which eagerly sought hers--"am I correct in addressing you as Count n.o.bili?--Pardon me if I am wrong." Here she paused, and affected to hesitate. "Do you bear any other name? I am really quite ignorant of the new t.i.tles."

This question was asked with outward courtesy, but there was such a tw.a.n.g of scorn in the marchesa's tone, such an expression of contempt upon her lip, that the old chamberlain trembled on his chair. Even at this last moment it was possible that her infernal pride might scatter every thing to the winds.

"Call me Mario n.o.bili--that will do," answered the count, reddening to the roots of his chestnut curls.

The marchesa inclined her head, and smiled a sarcastic smile, as if rejoicing to acquaint herself with a fact before unknown. Then she resumed:

"Mario n.o.bili--you saved my niece's life last night. I am advised that I cannot refuse you her hand in marriage, although--"

Such a black frown clouded n.o.bili's countenance under the sting of her covert insults that Trenta hastily interposed.

"Permit me to remind you, Marchesa Guinigi, that, subject to your approval, the conditions of the marriage have been already arranged by me and Fra Pacifico, before you consented to meet Count n.o.bili. The present interview is purely formal. We are met in order to sign the marriage-contract. The notary, I see, is ready. The contract lies before him. May I be permitted to call in the lady?"

"One moment, Cavaliere Trenta," interposed n.o.bili, who was still standing, holding up his hand to stop him--"one moment. I must request permission to repeat myself the terms of the contract to the Marchesa Guinigi before I presume to receive the honor of her a.s.sent."

It was now the marchesa's turn to be discomfited. This was the avowal of an open bargain between Count n.o.bili and herself. A common exchange of value for value; such as low creatures barter for with each other in the exchange. She felt this, and hated n.o.bili more keenly for having had the wit to wound her.

"I bind myself, immediately on the signing of the contract, to discharge every mortgage, debt, and inc.u.mbrance on these feudal lands of Corellia in the Garf.a.gnana; also any debts in and about the Guinigi Palace and lands, within and without the walls of Lucca. I take upon myself every inc.u.mbrance," n.o.bili repeated emphatically, raising his voice. "My purpose is fully noted in that contract, hastily drawn up at my desire. I also bestow on the marchesa's niece the Guinigi Palace I bought at Lucca--to the marchesa's niece, Enrica Guinigi, and her heirs forever; also a dowry of fifty thousand francs a year, should she survive me."

What is it about gold that invests its possessor with such instant power? Is knowledge power?--or does gold weigh more than brains? I think so. Gold-pieces and Genius weighed in scales would send poor Genius kicking!

From the moment Count n.o.bili had made apparent the wealth which he possessed, he was master of the situation. The marchesa's quick perception told her so. While he was accepting all her debts, with the superb indifference of a millionaire, she grew cold all over.

"Tell the notary," she said, endeavoring to maintain her usual haughty manner, "to put down that, at my death, I bequeath to my niece all of which I die possessed--the palace at Lucca, and the heirlooms, plate, jewels, armor, and the picture of my great ancestor Castruccio Castracani, to be kept hanging in the place where it now is, opposite the seigneurial throne in the presence-chamber."

Here she paused. The hasty scratch of Ser Giacomo's pen was heard upon the parchment. Spite of her efforts to control her feelings, an ashy pallor spread over the marchesa's face. She grasped her two hands together so tightly that the finger-tips grew crimson; a nervous quiver shook her from head to foot. Cavaliere Trenta, who read the marchesa like a book, watched her in perfect agony. What was going to happen? Would she faint?

"I also bequeath," continued the marchesa, rising from her seat with solemn action, and speaking in a low, hushed voice, her eyes fixed on the floor--"I also bequeath the great Guinigi name and our ancestral honors to my niece--to bear them after my death, together with her husband, then to pa.s.s to her eldest child. And may that great name be honored!"

The marchesa reseated herself, raised her thin white hands, and threw up her eyes to heaven. The sacrifice was made!

"May I call in the lady?" again asked the cavaliere, addressing no one in particular.

"I will fetch her in," replied Fra Pacifico, rising from his chair.

"She is my spiritual daughter."

No one moved while Fra Pacifico was absent. Ser Giacomo, the notary, dressed in his Sunday suit of black, remained, pen in hand, staring at the wall. Never in his humble life had he formed one of such a distinguished company. All his life Ser Giacomo had heard of the Marchesa Guinigi as a most awful lady. If Fra Pacifico had not caught him within his little office near the _cafe_, rather than have faced her, Ser Giacomo would have run away.

The door opened, and Enrica stood upon the threshold. There was an air of innocent triumph about her. She had bound a blue ribbon in her golden curls, and placed a rose in the band that encircled her slight waist. Enrica was, in truth, but a common mortal, but she looked so fresh, and bright, and young, with such tender, trusting eyes--there was such an aureole of purity about her, she might have pa.s.sed for a virgin saint.

As he caught sight of Enrica, the moody expression on Count n.o.bili's face changed, and broke into a smile. In her presence he forgot the marchesa. Was not such a prize worthy of any battle? What did it signify to him if Enrica were called Guinigi? And as to those tumbledown palaces and heirlooms--what of them? He could buy scores of old palaces any day if he chose. Quickly he stepped forward to meet her as she entered. Fra Pacifico rose, and with great solemnity signed them both with a thrice-repeated cross, then he placed Enrica's hand in n.o.bili's. The count raised it to his lips, and kissed it fervently.

"My Enrica," he whispered, "this is a glorious day!"

"Oh, it is heavenly!" she answered back, softly.

The marchesa's white face darkened as she looked at Enrica. How dared Enrica be so happy? But she repressed the reproaches that rose to her lips, though her heart swelled to bursting, and the veins in her forehead distended with rage.

"Can Enrica be of my flesh and blood?" exclaimed the marchesa in a low voice to the cavaliere who now stood at her side. "Fool! she believes in her lover! It is a horrible sacrifice! Mark my words--a horrible sacrifice!"

n.o.bili and Enrica had taken their places behind the notary. The slanting shadows from the open door struck upon them with deeper gloom, and the low murmur of the fountain seemed now to form itself into a moan.

"Do I sign here?" asked Count n.o.bili.

Ser Giacomo trembled like a leaf.

"Yes, excellency, you sign here," he stammered, pointing to the precise spot; but Ser Giacomo looked so terrified that n.o.bili, forgetting where he was, laughed out loud and turned to Enrica, who laughed also.

"Stop that unseemly mirth," called out the marchesa from the sofa; "it is most indecent. Let the act that buries a great name at least be conducted with decorum."

"That great name shall not die," spoke the deep voice of Fra Pacifico from the background; "I call a blessing upon it, and upon the present act. The name shall live. When we are dead and rotting in our graves, a race shall rise from them"--and he pointed to n.o.bili and Enrica--"that shall recall the great legends of the past among the citizens of Lucca."

Fearful of what the marchesa might be moved to reply (even the marchesa, however, had a certain dread of Fra Pacifico when he a.s.sumed the dignity of his priestly office), Trenta hurried forward and offered his arm to lead her to the table. She rose slowly to her feet, and cast her eyes round at the group of happy faces about her; all happy save the poor notary, on whose forehead the big drops of sweat were standing.

"Come, my daughter," said Fra Pacifico, advancing, "fear not to sign the marriage-contract. Think of the blessings it will bring to hundreds of miserable peasants, who are suffering from your want of means to help them!"

"Fra Pacifico," exclaimed the marchesa, scarcely able to control herself, "I respect your office, but this is still my house, and I order you to be silent. Where am I to sign?"--she addressed herself to Ser Giacomo.

"Here, madame," answered the almost inaudible voice of the notary.

The marchesa took the pen, and in a large, firm hand wrote her full name and t.i.tles. She took a malicious pleasure in spreading them out over the page.

Enrica signed her name, in delicate little letters, after her aunt's.

Count n.o.bili had already affixed his signature. Cavaliere Trenta and the priest were the witnesses.

"There is one request I would make, marchesa," n.o.bili said, addressing her. "I shall await in Lucca the exact day you may please to name; but, madame"--and with a lover's ardor strong within him, he advanced nearer to where the marchesa stood, and raised his hand as if to touch her--"I beg you not to keep me waiting long."