The Italians Part 34

"Is that your style of beauty?" lisped Orazio, looking hard at him.

But Ruspoli did not notice him.

"But that's not half," cried Malatesta. "You are an innocent, Ruspoli.

Let me baptize you with scandal."

"Don't, don't, I hate scandal," said Ruspoli, taking one of his hands out of his pocket for a moment, and holding it up in remonstrance.

"There is nothing but scandal in these small Italian towns. Take to hunting, that's the cure. n.o.bili is to marry the little girl, that's certain. He's to pay off all the marchesa's debts, that's certain too.

He's rich, she's poor. He wants blood, she has got it."

"I do not believe in this marriage," said Orazio, measuring Prince Ruspoli as he stood erect, his slits of eyes without a shadow of expression. "You remember the ballroom, prince? And the Boccarini family grouped--and n.o.bili crying in a corner? n.o.bili will marry the Boccarini. She is a stunner."

After Orazio had ventured this observation about Nera Boccarini, Prince Ruspoli brought his small, steely eyes to bear upon him with a fixed stare.

Orazio affected total unconsciousness, but he quailed inwardly. The others silently watched Ruspoli. He took up his hunting-whip and whirled it in the air dangerously near Orazio's head, eying him all the while as a dog eyes a rat he means to crunch between his teeth.

"Whoever says that Count n.o.bili will marry the Boccarini, is a liar!"

Prince Ruspoli spoke with perfect composure, still whirling his whip.

"I shall be happy to explain my reason anywhere, out of the city, on the shortest notice."

Orazio started up. "Prince Ruspoli, do you call me a liar?"

"I beg your pardon," replied Ruspoli, quite unmoved, making Orazio a mock bow. "Did you say whom Count n.o.bili would marry? If you did, will you favor me by repeating it?"

"I only report town-talk," Franchi answered, sullenly. "I am not answerable for town-talk."

Ruspoli was a dead-shot; Orazio only fought with swords.

"Then I am satisfied," replied Ruspoli, quiet defiance in his look and tone. "I accuse you, Signore Orazio Franchi, of nothing. I only warn you."

"I don't see why we should quarrel about n.o.bili's marriage. He will be here himself presently, to explain which of the ladies he prefers,"

observed the peaceable Orsetti.

"I don't know which lady Count n.o.bili prefers," retorted Ruspoli, doggedly. "But I tell you the name of the lady he is to marry. It is Enrica Guinigi."

"Why, there is Count n.o.bili!" cried Balda.s.sare, quite loud--"there, under the plane-trees."

"Bravo, Adonis!" cried Beppo; "your eyes are as sharp as your feet are swift."

n.o.bili crossed the square; he was coming toward the club. Every face was turned toward him. He had come down to Lucca like one maddened by the breath of love. All along the road he had felt drunk with happiness. To him love was everywhere--in the deep gloom of the mountain-forests, in the flowing river, diamonded with light under the pale moonbeams; in the splendor of the starry sky, in midnight dreams of bliss, and in the awakening of glorious morning. The two old palaces were full of love--the Moorish garden; the magnolias that overtopped the wall, and the soft, creamy perfume that wafted from them; the very street through which he should lead her home; every one he saw; all he said, thought, or did--it was all love and Enrica!

Now, having with lover's haste made good progress with all he had to do, n.o.bili has come down to the club to meet his friends, and to receive their congratulations. Every hand is stretched out toward him.

Even Ruspoli, spite of obvious jealousy, liked him. n.o.bili's face is lit up with its sunniest smile. Having shaken hands with him, an ominous silence ensues. Orsetti and Malatesta suddenly find that their cigars want relighting, and turn aside. Orazio seats himself at a distance, and scowls at Prince Ruspoli. n.o.bili gives a quick glance round. An instant tells him that something is wrong.

Prince Ruspoli breaks the awkward silence. He walks up, looks at n.o.bili with immovable gravity, then slaps him on the shoulder.

"I congratulate you, n.o.bili. I hear you are to marry the Marchesa Guinigi's niece."

"Balduccio, I thank you. Within a week I hope to bring her home to Lucca. There will then be but one Guinigi home in the two palaces. The marchesa makes her heiress of all she possesses."

Prince Ruspoli is satisfied. Now he will back Count n.o.bili to any odds. He will name his next foal Mario n.o.bili.

Again n.o.bili glances round; this time there is the shadow of a frown upon his smooth brow. Orsetti feels that he must speak.

"Have you known the lady long?" Orsetti asks, with an embarra.s.sment foreign to him.

"Yes, and no," answers n.o.bili, reddening, and scanning the veiled expression on Orsetti's face with intense curiosity. "But the matter has been brought to a crisis by the accidental burning of the marchesa's house at Corellia. I was present--I saved her niece."

"I thought it was rather sudden," says Orazio, from behind, in a tone full of suggestion. "We were in doubt, before you came, to whom the lady was engaged."

n.o.bili starts.

"What do you mean?" he asks, hastily.

The color has left his cheeks; his blue eyes grow dark.

"There has been some foolish gossip from persons who know nothing,"

Orsetti answers, advancing to the front. "About some engagement with another gentleman, whom she had accepted--"

"Nonsense! Don't listen to him, my good fellow," breaks in Ruspoli.

"These lads have nothing to do but to breed scandal. They would slander the Virgin; not for wickedness, but for idleness. I mean to make them hunt. Hunting is the cure."

n.o.bili stands as if turned to stone.

"But I must listen," replies n.o.bili, fiercely, fire flaming in his eyes. "This lady's honor is my own. Who has dared to couple her name with any other man? Orsetti--Ruspoli"--and he turns to them in great excitement--"you are my friends. What does this mean?"

"Nothing," said Orsetti, trying to smile, but not succeeding. "I hear, n.o.bili, you have behaved with extraordinary generosity," he adds, fencing the question.

"Yes, by Jove!" adds Prince Ruspoli. Ruspoli was leaning up against a pillar, watching Orazio as he would a mischievous cur. "A most suitable marriage. Not that I care a b.u.t.ton for blood, except in horses."

n.o.bili has not moved, but, as each speaks, his eye shifts rapidly from one to the other. His face from pale grows livid, and there is a throb about his temples that sounds in his ears like a thousand hammers.

"Orsetti," n.o.bili says, sternly, "I address myself to you. You are the oldest here. You are the first man I knew after I came to Lucca. You are all concealing something from me. I entreat you, Orsetti, as man to man, tell me whose name has been coupled with that of my affianced wife? That it is a lie I know beforehand--a base and palpable lie! She has been reared at home in perfect solitude."

n.o.bili spoke with pa.s.sionate vehemence. The hot blood rushed over his face and neck, and tingled to his very fingers. Now he glances from man to man in an appeal defiant, yet pleading, pitiful to behold.

Every face grows grave.

Orsetti is the first to reply.

"I feel deeply for you, n.o.bili. We all love you."

"Yes, all," responded Malatesta and Ruspoli, speaking together.

"You must not attach too much importance to idle gossip," says Orsetti.

"No, no," cried Ruspoli, "don't. I will stand by you, n.o.bili. I know the lady by sight--a little English beau"

"Scandal! Who is the man? By G.o.d, I'll have his blood within this very hour!"

n.o.bili is now wrought up beyond all endurance.